A/N: Hello lovies! So...writers block is a thing...an awful, infuriating, time wasting thing. This chapter was like pulling teeth to get out, hence the delay. Hopefully you can all forgive me for my tardiness in getting this out. Seeing as I had to literally pull each and every word of this out of my frustrated brain its not my favorite of installments, but its complete and at this point that's all I want.
Thank you once again to everyone who has faved/followed/reviewed. The interest this story has garnered (and by proxy the interest in the cannon stories) is overwhelmingly awesome and I am so grateful for each and everyone of your readerships. I love you all, so so so much.
R&R lovies, reviews (usually) knock writers block out cold!
The gates of Orzammar were broken, the great iron doors dented and hanging akimbo from their hinges. Outside the dawrven kingdom's threshold splintered merchant stands and wagons littered the ground, their husks streaked black with aged blood.
"It appears Corypheus did not let the dwarves be after all," Leliana muttered.
"At least the bastards put up a fight," Varric muttered, kicking the frozen corpse of a fallen venetori. "Or the surface ones did. Could be a different story once we get inside."
"Are you alright?" Evanthe asked gently, placing a hand upon the dwarf's shoulder. He shrugged it off and began walking purposefully towards the broken gates.
"Course I am, Goldie. Orzammar means less than nug piss to me. They didn't want me and I don't want them. Just another town far as I'm concerned," he replied with much too thick nonchalance. Evanthe knew the man was not from the underground kingdom, that he had been born in Kirkwall and felt no ties or kinship to the dwarves who called the subterranean enclave home. But for all that he might play at unaffected boredom, she knew that the frozen tableau of war stretched before them was affecting Varric deeply. It was much the same as the slaughter of the Dalish. They may not have been her clan but they were her people, and seeing those that share your features butchered into so much meat and blood was more than a little traumatic. Still, Evanthe let the man have his facade, it would do no good to push him into feeling if he wasn't ready.
The group followed Varric up the steep carved steps and into the vast antechamber that led to the city proper. They were greeted with blood smeared statues of dwarven paragons, their polished stone bodies nicked and pitted with blade marks and cudgel blows. Through the gore Evanthe could see the magnificence of the place, the grandeur and the history that had swelled in the great space. It seemed empty now, even though the paragons of old still looked down upon their blood-splattered kin. Something about the eerie quiet and lack of spectators made the place hollow. Wondering just how many places across Thedas bore the same disquieting emptiness now that Corypheus was in power made Evanthe shiver and she briskly continued onward, wanting to put space between her and the dim antechamber that was beginning to feel more and more like a tomb.
When they ventured onward into the commons they were greeted with more of the stretching, never ending quiet. It was almost oppressive, and Evanthe became painfully aware of the sound of her own breath. Every cough, shuffle, and miniscule movement of her party seemed to be magnified into an almost deafening cacophony, and Evanthe began to get the distinct impression that she was intruding on something better left undisturbed. Swallowing hard she sent out scouting parties with whispered commands, hoping that the unsettling stillness of the dwarven kingdom would be broken the further into the mountain their party traveled. Despite her foolish wishing the emptiness remained. Each scout reported back with news of plenty dead and little more. There was not a single living soul to be found in the commons, or in the city's slums for that matter. Orzammar had well and truly become a ghost town.
"Too quiet," Cole murmured softly as the group slowly made its way along the eastern path of the commons. "There is nothing. Dead and their secrets, taken to the grave. No more whispers trying to find faces. It's deafening."
"Something isn't right," Evanthe murmured. "There should be...more than this. Some kind of presence. There should at least be scavengers, rebels...even red templars and venetori using the kingdom as a base. Why have we not come across a single soul?"
"Perhaps there was nothing to be gained," Leliana supplied. "Orzammar's only benefit lies in its access to the deep roads, and yet those are crawling with darkspawn. Even Corypheus would hesitate before taking on an army such as that. I posit that the templars and venetori merely sacked the kingdom in an effort to remove the dwarven force and moved on."
"I suppose. It still seems odd. Where-"
"Those classist bastards. They didn't..." Varric interrupted in a seemingly random fashion, bringing Evanthe and the group up short. The dwarf did nothing but snort in disgust before pushing his way to the front of the party, eyes fixed tight to a set of massive marble doors inlaid with gold and iron that lay a good twenty paces off.
"Varric?" Evanthe asked in confusion. The man ignored her, his eyes narrowing as he hurried over to inspect the towering doorway with closer scrutiny He ran one hand gently over the metal bars that had been shot through the stone and let out a vile, bitter curse.
"They did! Nug humping, ale swilling, money sniffing, crotch preening sons of bitches!"
"Varric!"
"You want to know why there's no one here, Goldie?" Varric supplied as he began to beat upon the doors with his fists."Because they're all in there. Locked safe behind dwarven engineering and a healthy dose of cowardice Open up you rich little shits!"
"Master Tethras!" Elissa interjected, using every bit of queenly elegance she was in possession of to make her words an unerring command. "Cease this display and explain."
"Oh, I'll explain," Varric huffed out, whirling about to pin the queen with murder in his eyes. "It's simple, Honey-Queen, all that's left of the dwarven kingdom is behind those blasted doors, kept safe and sound from monsters, war, and public opinion."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Evanthe asked. "It means Corypheus failed and some dwarves still remain. Orzammar stands because of this."
"Not Orzammar," Varric muttered, "The nobility Though if you asked the shifty bastards they'd say the two are one and the same."
"Varric-"
"They locked themselves away, Goldie!" Varric cried out, the first hint of tears shimmering in his eyes. "Every last one of them. Probably didn't even wait for an attack, just heard about the bad shit top side and quietly shut the doors. Didn't even stop to think what would happened to the dusters and merchants on the other side. But why would they? Far as the nobility is concerned everyone else is expendable."
"That's..." Leliana breathed out, her tongue stuttering over the magnitude of what the dwarf was telling them.
"Horrific? Monstrous Pick an adjective, Nightingale," Varric sneered, turning his attention back to the towering doors. "Trust me, they all fit. Welcome to life in Orzammar."
"Why did no one try to pry them open?" Evanthe wondered, walking over to place a hand against the polished stone. Upon closer inspection she could see that the doors were more metal than rock and finely melded bits of iron, gold, and steel ran a complicated pattern from hinge to lock. It was an engineering marvel, a masterwork of smith craft and mathematics. Evanthe couldn't help but be awed by it, despite its purpose, and she wondered if something similar could be constructed for Skyhold.
"You're talking dwarven engineering here, Goldie," Varric answered. "The assembly builds something like this they don't intend it to fail. Once the locks engaged they can only be released from the inside. No amount of strength or persistence is gonna move those doors. They won't open until the diamond quarter is good and ready."
"How do you know all this?" Leliana demanded. "You were raised in Kirkwall. The secrets of Orzammar's defenses are not something a surface dwarf would normally be privy to."
"Because I know the smith who crafted them," Varric answered on a sigh as he leaned his brow against the doors. "Trust me. If she made 'em, they're staying closed, no matter how many wishes or curses you fling at them."
"Sheets tangled and fingers laced. Laughing in secret and loving across years. It's been fifteen months since he's seen her and she only wants to talk about work. Locks and keys, bits of metal that she makes into art. He is awed by her intellect and it only makes him love her more. 'This will bite them in the ass, B,' and she just smiles in reply." Varric grew still as stone while Cole extracted the thoughts from his mind, an ancient and deep pain reflected in his eyes.
"Don't bring her up again, Kid," he warned softly, his shoulders shaking with the effort to remain calm.
"But she-"
"No. Not her. She's off limits."
"Varric, if this 'B'...the smith, crafted the doors than perhaps she-" Evanthe offered delicately but Varric threw his hands up in panicked defense and began to vehemently shake his head.
"Leave it alone, Goldie. Just...leave it alone." Varric muttered as he began to walk away. "Those doors aren't opening. Might as well get used to that."
Evanthe made one last half-hearted attempt at protest, but the words barely registered. Varric was too engrossed in his personal turmoil to react to anything at that point, and his steps never faltered. He simply continued along the path that would take them into the deep roads. Evanthe stared after him for quite sometime, and she couldn't help but notice that his lips were moving slightly. She wondered whether he was singing along with the red lyrium in his veins...or if he was talking to the ghosts of lovers long gone. Both were heartbreaking in their own way, and Evanthe pondered whether the man would ever again be able to smile without brittle pain edging the grin.
~oOo~
Time is a funny thing. One may never give the concept much thought beyond wishing for it to change pace in the midst of boredom or happiness. For the most part it exists on the peripheral of daily life, something taken for granted and barely acknowledged. At least until one has no way of measuring its passage. Without the sun to rise and set, without shadows cast low upon the ground, how does one carve out their life into minutes and hours? How can one feel anything but suspended when the measurement of time ceases to exist?
If Evanthe had to hazard a guess she would have assumed that her and her party had been below ground in the winding maze of the deep roads for nearly a week. She had only the circular pattern of sleep and awake from which to judge, but even that was beginning to become skewed. Being surrounded by darkness with torchlight her only refuge, Evanthe had begun to feel trapped in a never ending night. It made her constantly sleepy, her body insisting that is was time to lay her head down and rest, even as her brain insisted that topside the sun must be shining. She never thought she would long to see the emerald hue of the breach cloaked sky, but after three (or was it four?) days below ground she would cut off her right arm to see a bit of natural, fade-touched light.
"We've found another smithy!"
"Of course you have," Evanthe sighed in annoyance, as she glanced around at the cavernous square they were currently exploring. "Every building in this blasted place is a smithy."
The group had arrived in Ortan Thaig a day or two previous and had begun searching for lost elven mirrors and monarchs alike. Morrigan's less than succinct directions to the eluvian were not in the least helpful seeing as every third or fourth structure could have once housed a smithy. Nonetheless Evanthe ordered each one and the surrounding area searched, and while they found a great many treasures of dwarven history, they had yet to find the elven artifact the wild woman sought. Nor had they found any sign of Alistair and Harlow, a failure that was far more worrisome.
With every moment they failed to find even the smallest hint as to the two warden's whereabouts Elissa and Zevran began to turn more and more mournful. Leliana had tried to hold their sorrow at bay, insisting that Ortan Thaig was quite expansive and there was quite a bit more ground to cover, but Evanthe could tell the optimism fell on deaf ears. Both Elissa and Zevran were intelligent enough to know that they could not search the deep roads for their paramours indefinitely The underground maze of ancient dwarven thaigs spanned nearly all of Thedas; even if they had the desire to try they would never be able to traverse all the paths. This journey in Ortan thaig was their one shot at finding the two people who had abandoned them both. If Harlow and Alistair were not rescued on this journey, chances are they never would be. The only solace to be had in the midst of all the heartbreak was that the party had not stumbled upon the King and Hero's corpses. It gave everyone hope that perhaps the two had not been felled by darkspawn, and perhaps, somewhere deep underground, they still lived. It was more than had been afforded a great many others.
True to Varric's word the darkspawn taint had found its way into their ranks, and already they had lost three men to the creeping, debilitating disease. It had begun mere hours into the party's descent. Without a dwarven guard to keep the creatures at bay, the darkspawn had become bold in their exploration. Only a mile or so into their journey the monsters had attacked, and while Evanthe's party was victorious in cutting the gemlocks and shrieks down, the taint of the creatures had begun a battle of its own. Within hours the first soldier began to show signs of the illness. Two days later he was dead and with every new encounter with the darkspawn more and more of Evanthe's soldiers fell victim to the poison. Even now four of her men were suffering through its affects, their skin sallow and sweat-slicked. Black veins of caustic magic traced pathways along their limbs, and they looked at her with the silver moon eyes of men who could hear the footfalls of their own death. It was a slow, cruel way to die, and it made Evanthe all the more desperate to find Harlow and Alistair. If the joining was the only way in which to save these men, then she would do everything in her power to see the ritual enacted.
"It is strange," Solas mused from over her shoulder, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. She hadn't heard the man approach her and she whirled around with a gasp. He gave her a bemused smirk before bowing his head in an apology.
"What is strange?" Evanthe panted, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart.
"This place," he replied, tilting his head back to gaze at the cavernous ceiling about them. "It is centuries removed from time, and yet it's dreams are filled with those of modern day. I have to wade through decades of treasure hunting to merely get a glimpse of what these hallowed stones used to be."
"And in that wading have you seen our erstwhile king and hero?" Evanthe asked quietly, a dim spark of hope igniting in her chest.
"I have seen much of both," Solas replied. "Their adventures below ground are filled with battle and blood. It makes for a deep imprint upon the fade. But they are not the glimpses you want."
"How so?"
"What I see of Alistair and Harlow is ten years earlier than the time you desire. The dreams I walk belong to the time of the blight. I see the Hero and the King, flanked by the assassin and the bard as they seek out a lost paragon. Leliana has changed much since that time. She was lighter then, more grounded in morality."
"Yes, well, I was young and foolish," Leliana murmured low in reply as she strode to join the pair. "I had not yet seen the horror this world can truly offer."
"I did not say your transformation was a bad thing," Solas countered with a raised eyebrow.
"No? I'm not sure I would agree with your assessment"
"Any luck?" Evanthe interjected, feeling far too emotionally wrung out to engage in philosophical thinking.
"There is no sign of Alistair or Harlow, at least none that my agents can find," Leliana answered with a weary sigh. "I am beginning to lose hope. And yet it makes sense that they would have at least passed through Ortan Thaig. Not only is it familiar territory it is also a crossroads that leads to far more deadly battlegrounds. To find no sign whatsoever...it unsettles me."
"I think it unsettles their lovers even more," Evanthe muttered, shooting a glance at Elissa and Zevran. The two were putting up a good front, appearing for all the world that they were simply engrossed in the delicate search for the eluvian. But Evanthe could see the cracks in their emotional armor. The constant glances into the darkness of the thaig every time a sound echoed against the stone walls, the tense line of their shoulders and the worry hidden deep in their eyes. Together the two were playing a tense game of hurry up and wait, and with every second that passed without a single sign of their respective paramours they knew they were inching closer to loosing.
A triumphant cry rose up from those searching the abandoned smithies followed by a cacophony of excited speculation and harried orders. Trading cautiously hopeful glances with Solas and Leliana, Evanthe hurried over to inspect the commotion, hoping that at least one task on this doomed endeavor would end in success. When she arrived at the tightly packed group of soldiers she hurriedly shoved the gawkers out of the way, clearing a path for herself towards the front.
"Herald, I think we've found it," one of her men reported, an eager and overly pleased grin stretching across his face. Evanthe tried to return the sentiment, but found that she couldn't quite muster the enthusiasm. For all that she was relieved to have found the eluvian, she still felt uneasy about its purpose. Not only had an entire clan become lost due one of the mirror's existence, Corypheus had used one as a gateway to the birthplace of blights. Neither scenario sounded remotely safe or sane in her opinion, and a part of her wished that the mirror had simply stayed lost, but it appeared as if the blasted thing wanted to found.
Evanthe swallowed hard as the search party began dismantling an ancient stone wall that connected a smithy to what appeared to be a residence. The bricks were pitted, worn, half of them crumbling into dust the minute hurried hands lifted them from their resting place. Eventually a hole large enough to crawl through was created and Evanthe peered into the dim space. She could see nothing beyond shadowy outlines, the forms too strange and foreign for her to get a read on, and yet, deep into the blackened space she saw the barest glimmer of light, a reflection that sparked briefly before winking out. Breathing deep she hunched over and wiggled her way inside. Calling up a bit of flame to rest in her palm she took a moment to gaze about the small alcove, eyes lingering over lost dwarven history and treasure. Piles of jewelry and goblets lay stacked against the walls, crammed tight next to chairs and artwork long faded and ruined by neglect. And stuck in the back, half hidden by a pile of moldy clothes stood a magnificent mirror.
Evanthe ventured closer, allowing others to enter the cramped space behind her, and hesitantly made her way over to the eluvian. It was a beautiful artifact, the frame intricately carved from ironbark and intertwined with steel scroll work. Evanthe could see ancient elven markings inscribed through out, the glyphs offering a warning to all who gazed upon it. Or perhaps they were instructions, she had no earthly idea to be honest. Evanthe had never been well versed in the history of her people, she much preferred to live in the present of life, working towards a future that could be better. Hesitantly she reached a hand out to trace the swirling pattern of the frame and the moment she made contact the mark upon her palm began to pulse bright green. Snatching her hand back she hastily stepped away and found herself staring wide eyed at her own reflection.
It appeared as if the last few weeks had been quite hard on her. Her skin seemed gray and sallow, coated in a fine film of dust, the results of having been forced to live and sleep underground. Scratches marred the space along her right cheek bone, and try as she might she could not remember the injury that had caused it. But what held her gaze the longest were her eyes, gold flecked and more than a little haunted. It seemed that being thrust into this deadly future had done more damage to her psyche than she had previously thought. Evanthe's eyes held the look of someone who had seen too much, but knew that the true worst was to come. It was unsettling to say the least, she she quickly spun away from the mirror and its much too sobering reflection.
As she turned her back upon the eluvian she spied Solas shimmying through the hole in the stone wall, and she cleared her throat to nab his attention. He quickly hurried over to her side, a look of dazed wonder painted upon his face.
"So its true," he murmured as he raised a hand to hover over the smooth glass of the mirror. "An eluvian left to rot in the deep roads. I never thought to see one again."
"See one again?" Evanthe asked in confusion, and Solas stiffened, almost imperceptibly.
"Forgive me, I misspoke," he said after the barest of pauses. "I meant to say I never thought to see one outside of dreams. This looking glass is piece of history lost to time and the people. Its discovery is a gift beyond price."
"Yes, well, I'm not quite so sure this 'gift' is the boon you and Lady Morrigan seem to think it is. Let us not forget that Corypheus used one of these mirrors to gain control of godhood," she murmured cautiously, already making her way back towards the hole. The mark upon her hand continued to tingle and pulse, and she cradled it close to her chest, irrationally wanting to hide its reaction to the eluvian from the rest of the group. When she squeezed her way back out into Ortan Thaig she ventured a wary glance down at her palm and was relived to find it had quieted now that some distance had been put between it and the mirror.
"Herald?" Leliana inquired, causing Evanthe to snap her head around and hastily drop her hand.
"Yes?"
"Is it there? Have we found the eluvian?"
"Yes," Evanthe answered hurriedly. "Yes. We'll have to dismantle the rest of the wall to remove it, but its in there. Still intact too."
"That is good news," Leliana said with a smile.
"Is it? I'm not so sure. Tell me, Leliana, you knew Lady Morrigan once upon a time. Is she the sort of woman we should just be handing something like this over to? Corypheus used an eluvian to open the gates of the black city, what then could Lady Morrigan do with her own?"
Leliana did not answer right away; indeed she was quiet for quite some time as she carefully mulled over the question posed her. Evanthe watched in fascination as the bard's thoughts flickered openly across her face. Leliana was usually so reserved, choosing to show emotion only when she desired, a trait that was the mark of a true spy. And yet it appeared as if memories of the past held too much sway to be kept locked away behind years of training. Sorrow, fondness, and warm nostalgia danced a ballet across the woman's delicate features, and for a moment she seemed a good twelve year younger. The shadows of torture and age melted away, revealing the beautiful lines of a young woman who hadn't yet seen just how vast and heartbreaking the world can be. Evanthe's chest grew tight at the sight, and she mourned fiercely for the girl Leliana had once been, and never would be again.
"What you ask is complicated, Herald," the woman supplied at last, each word carefully chosen and precise. "Morrigan is...well, she is Morrigan. She has always existed as separate from the world, even when she deigns to live in it. Her upbringing saw to a wildness within her, but her nature? That is hers alone. You ask me if she is trustworthy, Herald. There was a time I would have said no, now I am not so sure."
"That doesn't exactly inspire confidence in the woman's intentions, Lei," Evanthe sighed, turning her head to watch as her soldiers continued to dismantle the ancient stone wall.
"When I traveled with Morrigan during the blight, she was caustic and brittle. Never one to offer a kind word unless you shared the same pragmatic world view as her. And above all she was self serving. Her presence at Harlow's side was merely a ploy to gain what she and her mother sought. Once she had obtained her purpose, she vanished...and I did not see her for over ten years. And yet, it seems that those ten years have changed her. True, she is still brittle and caustic, but she lives for another purpose now, something beyond herself."
"Kieran," Evanthe supplied and Leliana nodded in confirmation.
"That child has instilled a measure of compassion and morality I never thought to see in the woman. Without the boy to temper her edges I would stay she is a very dangerous mage and not to be trusted."
"And with the boy?"
"She would move heaven and earth to see to his safety. Corypheus has already moved the heavens...perhpas Morrigan wishes to move the earth," Leliana offered with a shrug and with that last bit of philosophical eloquence the stone wall came tumbling down, drawing the women's attention with a resounding crash. A cloud of dust exploded outward, creeping through the air like a ghost, and Evanthe waved a hand in front of her face trying to dispel it.
"What now?" she asked, coughing slightly.
"That is up to you," Leliana answered. "It is rather...bulky. I do not imagine that it travels well."
"We can't leave it behind," Evanthe argued. "Not now that we've exposed it."
"Then perhaps we leave a contingent of men behind to guard it?"
"They would be too vulnerable," Evanthe remarked with a frown, an anxious fluttering beginning to grow in her chest. "Should the darkspawn attack in any sort of number they would be slaughtered."
"Are you suggesting we cart it with us?" Leliana asked with a bit of incredulity. Evanthe didn't bother answering, she knew the notion was daft and impractical. It would be work enough to see the eluvian to Skyhold, adding a month long journey into the deep roads was simply begging for the damn thing to break. The fact remained that it was too valuable to leave behind and dividing their forces in such dangerous territory was practically suicidal. There was only one solution left, and it broke something deep inside her.
"We have to leave. We have to get it back to Skyhold," Evanthe answered softly, her eyes unconsciously seeking out Elissa and Zevran who hovered on the edge of the crowd conversing in low, hushed tones. Leliana followed her gaze and let out a small, barely audible sound of grief. Evanthe closed her eyes tight, as if by erasing the queen and the assassin from her sight she could pretend that this awful choice did not have to be made.
"I can tell them...if you like. Perhaps, coming from me, Zev will-"
"No," Evanthe said firmly, opening her eyes and sighing deep. "It should be me. I'm the one who came up with this madness, it falls to me to call it off. Just...make sure Zevran doesn't make a play for my heart."
The short walk from smithy to hopeful lovers seemed at once endless and much too quick. Evanthe tried to spin out explanations and excuses in her brain, desperately seeking for the perfect combination of words that would somehow make this easier upon Zevran and Elissa. No magical speech came to mind, only cold, tactical honesty, and Evanthe only hoped that she could temper the devastation of it with sympathy.
"Your Majesty," she offered quietly once she had reached the pair. "A word?" When Elissa met her gaze, when she saw the hesitancy and regret hidden in the elven woman's eyes, the Queen faltered, ever so briefly, and for a moment Evanthe thought the woman would collapse. Yet somehow, in some unfathomable way, Elissa managed to control her grief and bury it deep within her. She brought her self up straight and tall as if her spine were fused with steel, and stared out at Evanthe with the cool detached gaze of an monarch addressing one of her subjects.
"So that is to be all, then?" Elissa asked quietly, with only the faintest tremor of sadness in her voice. Evanthe opened her mouth to respond but a movement visible just over the Queen's shoulder in the distance had her biting her tongue.
Two figures, both filthy and covered in scraps of armor, wearily shuffled their way into the massive thaig. The two leaned heavily upon one another, though their gaits seemed sure footed and whole, leading Evanthe to believe that the need for support was based more upon exhaustion than injury. As the pair grew closer she could see that it was a man and woman, human and elven, and each were covered in a layer of thick, black blood. The woman had pale, pearlescent skin and a mop of thick, tangled black hair that hung in a heavy curtain to her waist. She was a startling contrast to the man who seemed to bear a bit more pallor to his skin and a crown of badly grown out dark blonde hair. Both were unfamiliar to her, strangers in a strange land as it were, but it was clear that they were in desperate need of aid and Evanthe fully intended to give it to them.
Before she could call out and offer assistance, Elissa, curious as to what had drawn the Herald's attention, turned and let out a strangled gasp. The sound, though seemingly quiet, seemed to echo in the great space and somehow managed to reach the bedraggled pair. It brought them up short, and the man jolted as if he had been struck.
"Alistair?" Elissa breathed, raising a shaky hand to her lips. When the man gently stepped away from his companion Elissa let out a laugh of disbelief before launching herself into a full on sprint, her hands fisted tight into her dusty gown as she held it high above her feet. The man, whom Evanthe quickly surmised was none other than King Alistair himself, held his arms open and caught his Queen as she leapt into his arms, burying his face into the crook of her neck. Husband and wife greeted one another with lips and grasping hands, great sobs of relief spilling from both their throats. They were pressed so close to one another that it seemed as if at any moment they would meld into one being made up entirely of love and longing. When Elissa at last broke apart from Alistair it was only to shove him, hard, and cry out, "You infuriating man!" before pulling him close once more and kissing the very breath from his lungs.
While the King and Queen of Ferelden reunited beneath the darkened cavern of Ortan Thaig, the woman, Harlow Tabris, stood shock still and quiet, her eyes fixed on something across the dim space. It was only then that Evanthe remembered there were two sets of lovers caught up in this grand story of romance and adventure, and she whirled about to find Zevran a perfect mirror of his paramour. Evanthe could not fathom why they did not go to each other, why they too were not crying their relief and love to the heavens. The two merely stared one another down, their expressions unreadable and guarded. And then, as if on some unheard cue, the two began to bound towards one another, their lithe legs crossing the space between them in a matter of seconds. Zevran and Harlow crashed into one another with a force so great it was a wonder that the thaig did not tremble around them. Smoothly, and without misstep, Harlow leapt and wrapped her legs around Zevran's waist, fusing her lips to his. The assassin caught her with ease and pulled her close, tangling his long, graceful fingers into her matted hair. Where Elissa and Alistair's reunion had been romantic this was passionate, seductive, and more than a little too personal to be engaging in whilst an audience was in attendance. When Zevran set his teeth into Harlow's shoulder, earning him a shuddering gasp from the woman, Evanthe blushed and spun away, wanting to give the pair a bit of privacy. She was in turn greeted with a silently crying Leliana, her mouth stretch wide into a disbelieving smile.
"Do you want to tell them or should I?" Evanthe joked, unable to keep her own grin from her face.
"Tell them what, Herald?" Leliana asked, laughing around a joyous sob that spilled from her throat.
"That we have what we came for and it's time to leave this godforsaken place and go home." When Leliana said nothing, simply pushed past Evanthe and ran to great her friends, Evanthe sighed deeply in contentment and sneaked one last peek at happy couples before ordering her soldiers to bundle up the eluvian and make preparations for their departure. It was time to return to Skyhold and the possibility of her own, somewhat romantic reunion.