Chapter 41!

It's the beginning of the end, folks! There's just one more chapter after this one. There is no epilogue, because I haven't decided whether to write a sequel or not yet! And an epilogue leaves me less room for creativity with a possible sequel xD We'll see, won't we?

Thank you for staying with me through everything, even when I disappeared for weeks (months?) and thank you for your lovely reviews, for putting me on follow, and not to forget the favourites :D I do not regret posting this story, that's for sure! So thank you, all of you!

Disclaimer: Surprisingly, still not mine.

-o-

Chapter 41 – It's All Nugshit, Innit?

She woke up the next morning – Solas was there, sleeping next to her – and she actually felt rather refreshed.

She barely moved, but he woke up in an instant, looking at her with worried eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Surprisingly fine, in fact. Sorry for being an emotional mess."

He shook his head. "With everything that has happened, I would think that to be the most rational reaction, Lethallan."

"Perhaps," she said, giving him a somewhat sheepish smile. "Anyway, what happened? Corypheus is dead, right? And Dorian is alive?"

"Yes, and yes."

"How many casualties?"

"Due to the quick reaction; less than expected. Still, any casualty is a tragedy. But it could have been much worse."

"How are…well, people?"

Solas raised an eyebrow. "The average description would be drunk, I believe."

"What; now?"

"Indeed. The celebrations are…enthusiastic."

Hermione thought about this for a moment, and realised she was, in fact, rather enthusiastic herself. Happy. Yes, there was still a whole lot to do; rifts, red Lyrium, Red Templars, and generally cleaning up the aftermath, but for now…for now, they could celebrate.

"Actually, I would rather like to join in on the enthusiastic celebration."

Solas smiled. "In that case; you woke up just in time. The big celebration party is tonight."

-o-

Hermione eventually emerged from their chambers – after some nakedness with her lovely elf, a long shower, and generally doing all the things that made her feel human – and within ten seconds, she found herself attacked – hugged, she realised a moment later – by Dorian.

"Solas told me you had woken up," he said as he stepped back, still holding her by the upper arms while studying her face, "but I found it difficult to believe him. I have never seen you as pale, my dear. You foolish woman, why would you risk yourself like that?"

Hermione just gave him a look that told him exactly how much of a moron he was right now. "Don't be an imbecile, Dorian." Dorian looked genuinely puzzled, and Hermione realised he actually didn't know why she would do such a thing. "Are you serious, Dorian? Was that an actual, serious question?"

He hesitated. "Yes?"

She just stared blankly at him for a moment. "Well, I'm really sorry, but it's a ridiculous question. Why would I do that? Because I would be miserable without you, foolish man. Because you are one of my dearest friends, because I love you, and because you are worth saving. Merlin's knickers, Dorian, I have told you these things on several occasions."

Dorian was staring at her, apparently utterly taken aback by this revelation. "I know you have," he said quietly, "but people say such things, yes? It does not necessarily mean they are true."

"Well, I don't say such things without meaning it," she said softly. "You are one of my favourite people in the world. I would gladly die for you, if I am to be melodramatic – hopefully it won't come to that – but I wouldn't die from healing you."

Dorian's expression flickered with a whole range of emotions before landing on shock. He actually paled. "You wouldn't die…but you would lose your magic."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. But if that meant I could save you; so be it. The thing I was worried about at the time was whether I was able to heal you fully before I ran out of magic for good." Dorian just stared at her, so she gave him a look of angry grief. "You died, Dorian. Your heart stopped beating, your body was broken, your blood was mostly on the ground instead of in you, and you were dead. And I don't mean almost. You were literally dead for almost four minutes." She pointed at him, giving him an angry look. "Never do that to me again, you hear?"

The ever-so-sassy Tevinter had apparently gone mute. "I'm..." he eventually said, "I don't know what to say."

Hermione gave him a look of slight disbelief. "Dorian, you fool," she said softly. "You have been there for me ever since I came here. You have been my rock more than once. And if you could start by promising me that you'll do your best not to die, that would be great."

"I promise," he almost whispered. "And I... You are..."

She gave him a soft smile. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I know you love me. Let me ask you this – melodramatic, I know – what would you be willing to sacrifice to save your friends? To save me?"

The answer came without hesitation. "Anything."

"There you go, then. It's not that difficult, now is it?"

"Hermione…I owe you-"

"Let me interrupt you right there," she said, shaking her head. "You don't owe me anything. Let that go right away. You're alive, I am alive, the crazy darkspawn is dead; we won. Yay us!"

"You almost gave up your magic."

"Almost being the key word here. My magic is intact, your bones are no longer a shattered mess on a rock. We are good. Now, you don't have to say anything, but you could try to remember that when I say something, I do, in fact, mean it."

Dorian stared at her for another long moment, and then he pulled her close, and wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you, my dearest," he murmured. "Just…thank you." He paused for a moment, and Hermione was relieved to hear some of the sass was back in his voice when he spoke again. "And I do love you, I will admit as much, yes?"

Hermione chuckled as she squeezed him tight for a moment before letting him go.

Dorian stepped back, smiling, but his smile faltered as his eyes fell on something behind her.

She was so used to Solas' magical signature by now that she had not realised he was there.

Yes, Dorian was gay. Yes, they were just friends, Solas knew this. Still…she had just been practically cuddling another man, and told him she loved him.

"Is he doing the sexy-eyebrow thing?" Hermione whispered to Dorian. "It's all in the eyebrows."

"No, he isn't," Dorian whispered back. "He is, however, looking at us."

"And you are just awkwardly looking back? That's…kind of hilarious."

"So I am not about to be ripped to shreds by The Dread Wolf?"

"Definitely not," Hermione replied in an amused voice as she stepped to the side, meeting Solas' eyes.

"Maker's breath," Dorian said rather breathlessly when Solas met her eyes as he closed the short distance between them, "the two of you…you could make anyone believe that true love is, in fact, a reality."

"It was not my intention to spy," Solas said as he stopped next to them, looking at both Dorian and Hermione, "but the Inquisitor is eager to get the public speech part of this celebration over with, and the inner circle is supposed to be there during said speech."

"And you don't want to kill me for just clinging to your girlfriend and telling her I love her?" Dorian asked, and immediately looked like he wanted to slap himself. "Well, I regret pointing that out."

Hermione noticed the glittery look on Solas face, and decided to just end this before it escalated. "It wasn't your name I was practically screaming less than two hours ago, Dorian. Now, let's find our fearless Inquisitor, shall we?"

Both men looked quite perplexed for a moment, but then the glittery look returned to Solas face as he nodded. "We shall."

-o-

Hermione still did not like public attention. Of course, after almost a year in Thedas she was getting somewhat used to it, but the whole cheering-crowd thing was quite frankly something she could do without.

I'm officially a war heroine again, Hermione thought without enthusiasm. Hooray.

She looked around at the inner circle of the Inquisition. They were truly an odd group.

One huge Qunari, two elves, one fake Grey Warden, one dwarf, one Tevinter mage, one posh noble mage, one spirit – although no one noticed him, Hermione suspected – and one seeker with royal blood. The advisors looked positively dull in comparison.

-o-

Two hours later, Hermione found herself – with a glass of wine in her hand – sitting on Iron Bull's horn. As it turned out, Hermione's narrow behind fitted rather perfectly on one of his horns, and with the tip of the horn pointing upwards, she had something to hold onto as well. It would probably have been a bigger ordeal if Bull didn't take a hold of her foot whenever he was going to move, however.

"This is hilarious," she said as she patted Bull's head, "and rather impressive, quite frankly. Aren't I heavy?"

He chuckled. "I have worn helmets heavier than you, Hermione."

Hermione giggled. "Alright then," she said before leaning down to whisper so only he could hear her. "I think Josephine would consider it a dream come true if she was allowed to sit here for a while."

"Really?"

Hermione chuckled. "Definitely."

-o-

Yet another while later, Hermione had moved to a chair, and was thrilled when she saw Josephine pass by, and Bull grabbed her and placed her – effortlessly – on top of one of his horns. Josephine protested in shock at first, but when she suddenly found herself settled safely on the horn, her expression changed, and when Iron Bull handed her a glass of wine, Josephine was beaming.

"I was so right," Hermione murmured to her favourite Dalish god next to her. "Look at our Ambassador."

"I think our Ambassador had done well, should she choose to replace her diplomacy with an adventure every once in a while," the Dalish god murmured back.

"Exactly."

"How are you feeling, Lethallan?"

Hermione gave him a warm smile. "Fine. And by fine, I mean fine. Honestly. I will probably sleep a bit more the next couple of days, but other than that, I'm fine."

"Usually you require more rest before recovering."

Hermione nodded. "Healing magic is different. It's extremely draining in the moment, but considering how it is a very light form of magic, it heals quicker. The darker the magic is, the more time it takes to heal."

"I see. Well, I'm glad."

They were interrupted when someone slumped down to sit on the table in front of Solas.

"I'm sorry! I was wrong, alright?"

It was Sera. And she was drunk. A drunken Sera wasn't necessarily bad though, because she had a tendency to tell the blunt truth when alcohol was involved. She told them exactly what she meant, and she didn't lie.

Thus, this conversation could be a complete disaster, or rather helpful.

"Hello, Sera," Solas said, and Hermione wanted to clap her hands when she noticed the small smile he gave the drunk elf on the table. "And what do you mean?"

"It's all wrong, innit? I was wrong. I'm totally racist. It's true; I don't like you because you are an elf – well, you're a bit boring, but that's not really a reason to not like you – but other than that, it's because you're an elf, right? It's all the other way around, and I'm so confused. I was wrong, so what if I'm wrong about everything?"

Hermione held her breath as she waited for Solas to answer. This was the disaster-or-progress-moment.

"You are not wrong about everything, Sera," Solas said calmly. "What you do, what you work for, it is a good cause. The goal of the Red Jennies is a good one. Help the little people, as you say; it is a good intent. As for the elves...not everyone is the same."

Solas paused for a moment, and Hermione had to supress a bubble of laughter from the confused expression on Sera's face.

"Did you know," Solas continued, "that I rather detest the Dalish?"

"What? You hate the Dalish? You hate the Dalish? Why?"

"I do not detest every Dalish elf. Nor do I not detest the Dalish on a principle, only because they are Dalish. That would be unfair of me. But the obsession with the history of the Dalish elves, the Dalish gods, and the way they see themselves as better than a non-Dalish elf, that is what I dislike."

Sera was apparently still utterly perplexed. "Why?"

"If I am to describe a stereotypical Dalish elf," Solas said after thinking for a moment, "it would be an elf with the conviction that he knows everything. He knows the history of their gods, he knows the elves' bloody history, and he looks down his nose on the elves living in the alienages, or the elves working as servants. Just as the dwarves see the surface-dwarves as practically worthless. The stereotypical Dalish elf is hostile towards humans – filthy shems, as I have heard more than once – worship their gods – the gods they think they know – and obsess with the Dalish history. The problem with this is…most of what they think they know is, in truth, wrong. They do not know their gods, they do not know what really happened to Arlathan, they do not know what event started it all, what event led to the next, they have most of it wrong. And yet, they carry their Dalish pride as a shield, believing it gives them the right to look down on others."

Sera gazed at him for a long moment, but then her eyes widened in shock. "Wait" You! You know! You're a Dalish god!"

Thank god she's drunk, Hermione thought. No one will bat an eye from that declaration.

Solas pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Well, yes. Although I would prefer not to make it public knowledge."

Sera smacked a hand over her mouth before giggling. "Shit! I'm sorry! But I get it! You know! You know the truth! And watching the way they throw the whole 'Dalish-pride' thing around and bask in the glory of it makes you angry." She paused for a moment. "Maker's balls, that has to be just horrible!"

Solas gave Sera an amused smile. "Well…at times, yes. I'll admit."

Sera seemed to think – deeply – for another moment. "Wait," she said, and managed to keep her voice down this time, "Mythal. They are all like 'ooh, poor Mythal, she's gone, and praaaise Mythal', but Mythal is walking around messing with the world right now, isn't she? She's just a bitch."

Solas actually chuckled. "Blunt, but dangerously apt."

Sera had yet another moment of deep thoughts. "They trusted Fen'Harel," Sera began, and both Solas and Hermione froze, "and they were all of them betrayed. And Fen'Harel sealed them away so they could never again walk among the People." There was a long moment of silence before Sera spoke again. "And after the destruction of Arlathan, when the gods could no longer hear our prayers, it is said that Fen'Harel spent centuries in a far corner of the earth, giggling madly and hugging himself in glee."

Hermione held her breath, waiting for what would come next. Please, Merlin, Hermione thought, and froze when Sera looked at Solas.

"It's all nugshit, innit? That's not how it went down at all."

Hermione dared to take a small breath when Solas relaxed ever so slightly. "That would be one of the stories the Dalish got wrong, indeed."

"Thank Andraste," Sera said, sighing in relief, "because the thought of you giggling madly and hugging yourself in glee is just disturbing. I hope I'll never see that happen."

Solas actually smirked. "I will try to avoid doing that around you, then."

Sera gave him a shocked look, but when she saw his amused expression, she let out a surprised laugh. "That was a joke! A funny joke! You're not what I think you are, are you?"

"Hopefully I am not," Solas said, still looking rather amused. "I'd hate to have my head crammed up a thousand years ago."

Sera – after another shocked look – burst out laughing. "I get it, I think," she said after the laughter faded, "I get why you don't like them. It's like me when I don't like elves, or nobles. But I was wrong with the whole 'hate everyone' thing. I should hate someone because they're an asshole, not because they're an elf, or whatever."

Solas nodded. "Something like that, yes."

Sera thought for another moment, and then she bounced up from the table. "Good, yeah? You're not so bad, right? Later!"

She bounced away, and both Hermione and Solas just looked at her until she vanished behind a chair.

"Well," Solas said, "that was…interesting."

Hermione chuckled. "Indeed. And surprisingly productive."

"Indeed."

-o-

A while later, Josephine sat down with them, flushed cheeks and a beaming smile. "Can you believe it? I can scarcely believe it. We won," she said before waving a hand dismissively. "Not that we are quite finished yet, with the Templars, the rifts, and all the chaos we are left with, but we won. Now we can begin repairing."

Hermione nodded. "It's lovely. And the repair-process will be much easier without that rambling darkspawn running around."

Josephine let out an enthusiastic laugh. "Exactly."

"You should come with us sometimes, Ambassador."

Josephine gave Solas a confused look. "Pardon?"

Solas cocked his head, gazing at the Ambassador, causing Josephine's cheeks to redden even more. "You should come with us sometimes. I do believe the inner thrill-seeker in you would enjoy it."

Josephine reddened even more. "Thrill-seeker? Me? No, no. I'm not like that. I could never…no."

"I highly doubt that, Ambassador," Solas said calmly, "but for now, we can agree to disagree. The offer still stands for when you change your mind."

Josephine rolled her eyes, looking all kinds of flustered, and Hermione laughed.

"Also, she really needs to get laid," Hermione whispered when the Ambassador walked away, resulting in a surprised laugh from The Dread Wolf.

"You might be right, Lethallan."

Hermione watched as Josephine smiled politely at a noble, and that was when an idea hit her. "Do you think she likes flying?"

"Pardon?"

"I can fly, remember? Maybe I should take her for a trip to the clouds."

"What, now?"

Hermione shrugged. "Why not now? It would be perfect, considering the enthusiastic mood she is in."

"But your magic…and alcohol – would it be a good idea?"

Hermione smiled. "Please; I could fly loops in the middle of a heart-attack. As for my magic? Flying isn't draining. It's absolutely nothing to worry about."

Solas looked slightly sceptical, but Hermione noticed the amused glint in his eyes. "If you say so, vhenan."

Hermione grinned as she got up and headed for Josephine.

-o-

"What?" Josephine asked as they were standing outside the gates a few minutes later. "No, I am not afraid of heights."

"Do you trust me?"

Josephine looked increasingly confused by the second. "What? Well, yes, of course I do."

Hermione was tempted to just grab the woman and take off, but shook it off. "Well, would you like to fly?"

"What?"

Looking around, Hermione grinned at Josephine before taking off in a flare of black smoke.

After some loops – generally showing off – Hermione landed again, and studied the Ambassador's shocked expression.

The shocked expression that flickered with excitement.

Josephine hesitated. "That was…amazing."

Hermione grinned. "It is amazing. And it feels even better."

"But…what if I…fall?"

Hermione shook her head. "I would never let you fall, Josephine."

"But…what if something happened, and I fell anyway?"

"Then I would flick my hand and levitate you to the ground. I know what I am doing, Josie."

-o-

After some magical security measures – an unbreakable invisible rope tied around Josephine's waist, and the other end tied around Hermione's waist, Josephine hitched up her skirts, and jumped onto Hermione's back.

"Ready?"

Josephine's arms tightened around Hermione, and she spoke in a shaky voice. "Not so fast, please."

"No worries, we'll take it slow. And you can just tell me if it's too fast or too slow."

-o-

Ten minutes later – mid-air – Hermione was more or less laughing hysterically.

The ever-so-proper Ambassador was acting as if she was on a roller coaster. After clinging onto Hermione as if her life depended on it for the first three minutes, she had grown bolder – and bolder – and now, she was only holding on with her legs, her arms in the air, laughing euphorically.

Your inner thrill-seeker is showing, Josie, Hermione thought as she took a firmer hold of the Ambassador's legs…and dived.

Josie screamed first, but when Hermione stopped after a few meters, the scream turned to laughter. "Again!"

Hermione dived again, and this time the Ambassador just laughed.

-o-

They were still laughing rather hysterically when they landed, and Hermione laughed even more when she saw the Ambassador's appearance. Josephine was ever-so-proper, and the wild-haired, beaming woman with the glittery eyes and flushed skin in front of her was not the diplomat who met the posh visitors.

"That was amazing!"

Hermione grinned. "I know. Let me know if you want to do it again sometime."

Josie clapped her hands, hugged, Hermione, hugged Solas – and promptly blushed – hugged Hermione again, and then the three of them headed back to the party.