The Dread Wolf is losing claim over his pack.
He feels it as he walks through palace halls lined with nobles. Weeks before they bowed low like quick falling cards and now they are slower to show respect, their awe marred by suspicion and worry. Whispers follow in his wake, lilting with questions left unanswered and rumbling with bold opinions. Word has reached them all of the Blood Wolf's success in the southern cities, of the tidal wave making its way towards the capitol, and he does not dismiss their concerns. He knows all he need do is pull the orb from its place at his side to quell their fears and renew their waning trust. There is nothing, not even the world itself, that does not kneel before the strength of an Evanuris whole.
Instead he keeps his gaze ahead and hands behind his back for if there is one thing he is, it is not whole. Neither is this facade of fancy around them, this safe harbor with horizons growing black. He cannot protect them from himself.
"Do you have it?" Merrill asks as he enters the council chambers.
"It is safe."
"Oh, that's a relief."
"Where is Abelas?"
"In the gardens, meditating," Veranna answers. "His opinions on tomorrow have not changed. I believe he is preparing himself for the worst, as usual."
"And you? Has your mind changed?"
"Kings do not cower. We must show Elvhenan who it should fear, remind them our our strength. Our blood is meant for ruling."
Merrill grimaces. "Maybe not mention that last part. If it must be done, it needs to be done carefully. The people need reassured. All of them."
"The Dalish-"
"Are our responsibility," Merrill interrupts, a spike of steel in her voice. "Whether you want to admit it or not, your blood is in our veins too."
"We will tread with caution," Fen'Harel says. "The event might also present an opportunity to uncover sympathizers if nothing else. Place more of your agents within the crowds, unarmed. I do not wish to incite further conflict."
He spends a few more minutes discussing plans for the upcoming ceremony before finding his way to the gardens. The morning is mild, a crisp edge that speaks of autumn coming, and he sees it in the few impatient leaves turning orange already. He wonders how many Elvhen contemplate the mortality around them, the bright, beautiful things taken for granted and thought lesser for their nature, and yet he cannot blame them for this either. In his sorrow, it was all too easy to slip into the prejudices of the past, to shackle on the familiar instead of forging a new path. He led them all astray.
Abelas kneels beneath boughs of myrtle trees already blazing brilliant red in defiant joy. "The ceremony will go as planned?" he asks as Fen'Harel approaches quietly, feet cushioned by thick grass.
"Yes."
"Sit with me. There is something I believe you should finally see," the sentinel says after a pause.
Fen'Harel agrees, pulling his legs beneath him into a pose that was once effortless. It has been years since he took a moment to meditate and he feels it in his complaining limbs. "What is it?"
"A memory. I invite you into my Dreaming."
"As you wish." Fen'Harel takes a breath and closes his eyes, calling out to touch the banners of magic drifting through the air. Abelas' essence appears before him, pale ends tattered, but the thread is strong as he reaches out and takes hold.
It is a strange thing to open his eyes and view the world through another's perception. Abelas stands upon Skyhold's long bridge. He is the only other occupant - when dawn came on the morning of the Veil's destruction, Fen'Harel whisked Keela a safe distance away to Haven's doorstep. He stayed for a while to simply watch her eyes fluttering behind lids in his spelled sleep, face softened and so very beautiful, an autumn blossom he would see bloom forever. With a last kiss to her brow he returned with heart heavy and mind made. Beneath the main structure, in the bones of Tarasyl'an Te'las true, he took his new orb into the shadows and left Abelas aloft to ward away any who might try to disrupt his plans.
Something in the distance shines against the final throes of a sapphire sunset. A shape emerges through the clouds, long and large, and Abelas straightens with a stricken expression for it is a beast they both know. The scarlet dragon shakes the stone as it lands, stumbling a bit, and almost immediately disappears into a puff of smoke and ash to be replaced by a woman. It is not one either of them expects, however.
"Move, Abelas," Keela demands, the magic of her false hand almost blinding as she approaches. The sight of her startles Fen'Harel, so much so that the dream wavers with his disbelief a moment before settling back into place. It is Abelas' memory but also his secret, for it has never been spoken of before. To his knowledge, Fen'Harel thought she remained locked in slumber, ignorant of her world changing. It was a gift he hoped to give her, this fate that need not be witnessed when it could not be changed.
"You have taken Mythal's form."
"Have you forgotten I am bound to her the same as you? You must have or else you would not be standing there when we both know this is not what she wanted. So move."
"I will not."
"Then I will move you."
The power of her attack pushes Abelas back into the lower courtyard before it dissipates. There are cracks running up her prosthetic in the aftermath, smoke seeping through the fissures, and Fen'Harel knows she will not be able to command such power again. She manages to make it to the second landing before Abelas sends bolts of lightning at the arch below and crumbles the path to ruin. It is a game they continue around the courtyards - Keela attempts to fight towards every entrance only to have Abelas lift the ground up to cover the way, create a frozen barrier too thick to bash through.
She yells in outrage when she is foiled yet again and finally turns her attention back to the Elvhen. With a flick of her wrist, a whip of fire extends from her hand and snaps out towards him. Fen'Harel knows how talented she is in combat, in everything, but he can see exhaustion etched across her face covered in sweat and her knowledge cannot compare to the well within her opponent.
It is not long before Abelas has her on her knees, armor singed and ripped. "Yield."
Keela shakes her head, fingers carving into the dirt as she tries to stand and finds her legs uncooperative. "I can't."
"I have always admired your tenacity. You should be proud that you have come so far."
"Proud." She laughs, sits back on her heels. "If not for Pride I would not need be here. Will you be proud when you look out on your new kingdom made with the blood of mine? So noble the elves of Arlathan will be, making houses upon our graves before we are cold."
"The Dread Wolf has assured-"
"You know his pride is blindest of them all. Please, Abelas. Let me stop him. Let us find another way, the way that she wanted. I know it can exist."
Whatever Abelas may have answered with at first is lost as the ground begins to shake. In the courtyard below the earth splinters and twists, beams of green light rising up as pieces fall away until there is no more. The energy shoots into the sky growing brighter and brighter with every pulse of the focus at its center.
"It is too late."
"No!" Keela rushes to her feet and runs towards the light, but Abelas catches her around the waist in a tight grip.
"You cannot go any nearer! The power will destroy you."
They both fall to their knees as the whole mountain rocks. The great force causes the tavern behind them to groan and parts of the structure to collapse. Stones and mortar rain down from the towers above and all the while the magic of the orb punches a hole into the clouds above. Fen'Harel pays little attention to anything but her.
"No, he…he can't," Keela moans, misery coating her features, falling from her eyes. His name is screamed into the churning air, a curse as much as it is a plea, and it is painful thing to see her slump against Abelas' side. Defeat makes her appear small, weak, worn like a drawing smeared from abusive hands. As the sky shatters he watches her hope finally do the same, and it will be a thing that haunts him forever.
The dream drifts apart like petals on the wind and drops them back into the capitol's gardens. It is a lengthy stretch before either of them speak again. Fen'Harel doubts he could find words to express the thunderous turmoil clawing inside. She was there. She was there fighting with everything she had until the last moment. For her world. For him. His greatest sin upon her and she was made to watch.
"I have never spoken of this at her behest nor myself believed it would be a useful thing for you to know, especially after her death," Abelas reveals.
"Why reveal it to me now?"
"Until now I have not truly questioned my actions. I believed stopping her was the correct course even though there have been times I wondered if I should have let her go. Would the outcome be for the better, or worse? The answer was once so clear and now…"
Abelas rises to his feet, hands coming together to brush away errant grass and debris fallen from fading trees. "When we cannot answer our own questions, perhaps it is time for another to choose."
The thought stays with Fen'Harel as he returns to the palace, as he lays out every item Fen'Lin has given him upon his bed and feels something looking at each. Surprise as he grips her hand for the first rift, joy as he chases after her brief kiss in the Fade, relief as Wisdom leaves and he returns to find Keela waiting for him upon the steps of Skyhold. Their dance through Halamshiral spreads a lightness only love can create and there is a deep wonder to be found when he thinks of her trust as he uncoils the vines beneath her eyes beneath starlight and statues.
It is their story, pieces lost when he buried them beneath grief and could only look upon them as a pain which made him weak, a whim destined for doom. But there was brilliance there, something worth fighting for no matter its inevitability, something worth remembering - like the trees insolent before winter's first touch. He had tried to forget but she never did, never stopped burning until the very bitter end and maybe beyond that. Her hope has long since withered but here, surrounded by evidence of a love that lasts despite the cold, it only grows stronger than ever inside his chest.
His hearts begins to sing again and he wonders how he survived so long in its silence.
The next day he shuffles into the grandstands above the central square with the city's citizens of Arlathan and the Dales below. They have come to celebrate the revealing of a new statue dedicated in his honor, something planned for months and yet the timing seems off now with all that has happened. The crowds are restless, the two separate people pushed as far away from each other as possible with the memorial in the middle. Arbitrators walk through the throng and along the edges, but their presence seems to do little to quell the unrest. It buzzes, a hornet swarm growing louder and louder.
"We should get on with it, don't you think?" Merrill says behind him. He does.
Fen'Harel signals for the cloth to be removed. There are gasps and shouts as the large draping falls away. It depicts him standing tall and sure with the orb outstretched in one hand. The whole piece is made of marble black and white and green light shines inside, flickering like a candle flame throughout it all but concentrated more inside the orb. He knows it will glow stronger at night, a beacon towards a better future. It is remarkable, but it is not the reason for their reaction.
It is because Fen'Lin sits atop the focus.
She stretches out to her full height, the golden eyes of the wolf's mask boring into his even as the crowd surges and soldiers move to surround her below, but they both pay little attention to anything else but each other. The moment seems to freeze, movement passing them by in a blur on far horizons. He does not wonder how the Red Knights managed to sneak by all their security. They have proven to be anything but bumbling children. He only wonders what she sees looking up at him, the great Fen'Harel, Lord of Arlathan - is he a monster that needs slaying, or a sheep in wolf's clothing?
Her penchant for pageantry has only begun, however. A few seconds later a giant banner unfurls down a building's front across the square, a gift from Fen'Lin greater than all the others yet. The Inquisitor in all her glory is painted at the center, hair billowing in the wind as she lifts his orb high into the air above Corypheus' head and seals the Breach once and for all. A battle that seems so long ago, a threat that was merely an accident, a footnote in his own grand schemes, but he remembers the valiant struggles to see it won. He remembers Keela's bouts of self doubt, her resolve regardless, remembers telling her that she is more than strong enough to claim victory. After all, the worst fight was yet to come.
Beneath her feet a phrase is scrawled, an ancient anthem of a people bloodied but not beaten. Fen'Lin lifts her fist into the air and shouts it at the top of her lungs in a hundred voices that will not be silenced. "Never again shall we submit!"
It races through the crowd and echoes back, gaining even more voices with every pass as the Dalish answer her call, as they remember what it is to be defiant. When the chant becomes a roar, Fen'Lin upturns her face to his, the spread of her red smile stretching like a first wound, and he cannot help but return it with one of his own in recognition of her deeds no matter their cost. She has not only followed in his rebellious footsteps- she is overcoming them.
When she drops her arm the light inside the statue explodes outwards, breaking through fractures in the seams. It shatters into dozens of smaller pieces and falls to the courtyard to more ruin. As the statue's arm crashes down he watches Fen'Lin's figure flicker and feels a jolt of panic when she disappears into the dust and rubble billowing up. An hour passes until the rioting crowd has been quieted and pushed from the square. They do not find her body in the wreckage and he is relieved, although not entirely surprised. This is not their end.
While another world begins to burn beneath him, Fen'Harel returns to his tower and waits for it to come.
She hauls herself up the last ledge with a laugh. The memory of Fen'Harel's flabbergasted face refuses to leave her and only grows more amusing with every hour passed. It is more than that which makes her smile, however - there was moment when his face changed, mouth reforming into a small grin barely made before it was gone, but its intention was not missed. In the face of her chaos and destruction he was proud. He was proud of her.
Quick feet cross crumbling stone and all but hop into a small library. Once she found a strange chapter to one of Varric Tethras' novels here covered in layers of dust older than the dwarf had ever been. Now she searches for another storyteller stuck between the shelves. His shape dissolves out of the shadows against the far wall and she wastes little time in throwing herself at him, legs leaping up to wrap around his waist.
"Lethallan!" is all he manages to say before she slants her mouth over his and digs hands into the braids of his hair to push them even closer. As always he stiffens at her touch at first, fighting latent shame and guilt, but then he is turning them around and holding her against the wall, desperate desire overcoming all doubts. When he sweeps away a pile of books and lays her down upon a table she laughs again, lighter than she has felt for a while with only his weight pressing down on her.
"What's happened?" he asks when their wild heartbeats have finally settled and clothes clasp back in place. She tells him of their successful mission into the capitol, of the statue's demolition and Fen'Harel's absent attempts to quell the madness.
"The Elvhen and the Elven of the city are already in an uproar. I would not be surprised if by the time the Red Knights reach the capitol in force the gates will already be thrown wide open for them. And you? Do you have any news for me?"
"It is finished."
"What! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"You made it somewhat difficult to speak," he replies with a wry grin. A hand reaches into his satchel to pull out a glass bulb filled with green liquid. Something silver flashes inside it, like the bright scales of fish caught in the sunlight. "I tested a small batch. The power required for even a few minutes was substantial. Without the orb you will not succeed. Even then, you…"
Fen'Lin wraps her hands around his scarred ones. She doesn't think of the struggle to come, the pain, the possibility of so many things going wrong - she only thinks about making this right. "It won't matter."
"It matters to some," he says with a huff. "If you fail-"
"I won't." She leans up on her toes to give him a quick kiss before pocketing the potion in a protected pouch and coating it with a protection spell as an extra precaution. The small thing is their only hope, the one chance for a world where everyone can be together. "I should go. They've become more watchful of me these days."
"Wait." He pulls her in for another embrace, the last one if all her plans succeed. She feels his touch, soft yet searching, run across her face, down her body, memorizing what is meant to fade. For her part she soaks in the gentle warmth of his love even it has been marred by their fates and the unforgettable things of the past. Without him she never would have made it this far.
"Thank you," she says when they part and pauses to run her fingers over the violet lines of his vallaslin one more time. She does not say goodbye- there have been too many of those for far too long.
There is only final smile shared between them before she slips on her golden mask and turns to enter the main area of the crumbling ruins. She wonders what will happen to the Vir Dirthara when the world is flipped once again, but it is a sacrifice she is willing to make. There is nothing she won't give to see this to the end- a trait she has learned from him.
As she reaches the middle of the room something pops beneath her feet. A breath is all she manages to take before blinding light leaps up around her and a force pushes down from all sides. The prison bars shake and shoot energy into her bones, paralyzing her even as the magic lifts her into the air and squeezes. Somewhere she hears her name being yelled, her true name, but it is all lost in the great pain pulsing through every inch of her, consuming sight and sound and throwing her into a black abyss with sharp teeth.
When she wakes to the world again she is still suspended above the floor. Remnants of power shake her limbs although the aching anguish has passed to leave her exhausted and sore beyond anything she's ever known. It seems like years pass before she's able to lift her head and discover the source of the spell. The leaders of the Red Knights stand in front of her while several more soldiers linger beyond, a few holding hostage her accomplice. Blood leaks down the side of his face, his expression fearful and furious, and she twists against her own bonds.
"Did you think you could hide this from us forever? Hide him?" Reiveth asks as he saunters up to the Dalish elf. "So good to see you again, Taliesin."
Taliesin spits spite and blood at the noble's feet and receives a slap across his face for the effort. Fen'Lin growls low, letting her rage reach up and push against the force around her, but it is a slow thing made all the harder by her fatigue. She just needs to delay them a bit longer.
"We should kill him, finish the job started years ago."
"It…won't matter," she manages to grind out, throat scorched from screams she doesn't remember making. Her eyes met Briala's. "I already know the truth. It was you, not Fen'Harel. It was you who caused the explosion and killed them all. You tried to make me into what you wanted, but I haven't been your pawn in a long time."
There is a stunned pause as all turn to face her, but her attention is only locked on the former spymaster - her friend. Briala watches her with very little surprise and some sadness, the edges of her eyes tinge with regret, and Fen'Lin wonders for how many years she's suspected or perhaps even known.
"Well then, tell us what you've been planning behind our backs," Reiveth demands as he brandishes a dagger that waves it in front of Taliesin's face. Pinpricks of panic race down her spine and make her struggle all the harder. She cries out as Taliesin does when the blade slices down his arm. "Tell us!"
Through his pain he looks up at her, a smile with surrender on his lips. "It won't matter."
She nods, takes a breath. No sacrifice can be too great. "I will tell you nothing."
"A most unfortunate thing," Reiveth says before he drives the dagger into Taliesin's chest and despite her resolve, Fen'Lin screams in savage sorrow to watch his blood run and eyes close. She curses them, fire and lightning crackling over her skin, as they let him fall to the harsh stone.
"What shall be done with her?" Nevaelathsan asks, voice calm and detached as ever, and she wants to ram the mask into their face until they truly cannot remove it.
"She can't be trusted anymore. Whatever her allegiance, it's not to our cause. I think that has been clear for some time."
Briala shakes her head. "We still need her. Fen'Harel-"
"Will be drawn to her corpse all the same, as you well know. We can make a martyr out of her, say it was the Dread Wolf who slew our beloved Fen'Lin in this courageous war for our freedom. I dare say she will be more useful dead than alive."
"No, I won't-"
"Nevaelathsan." With a flick of their wrist, the Elvhen sends Briala flying through the air to smack into the nearest wall, hard. She slides down the worn surface and lands in a puff of cinders. "Now, let us be done with this."
"You coward!" Fen'Lin yells and is relieved to see Briala's chest rising and falling. The chains around her are loosening as the two leaders approach but they still latch on with too much strength for her to break free. She is out of time and options, stripped of her only allies. A thought strikes through her, cutting through the madness and calling out to her desperation. There is one who she can call, an enemy instead.
With whatever fight she has, Fen'Lin reaches into the collar of her shirt and pulls out the pendant tucked away there. Nevaelathsan's eyes narrow to see the jawbone, but they are not quick enough to stop her as she brings the old thing to her lips and whispers a name. "Solas."
Thunder claps as the world turns bright again, air sizzling when it splits apart in flashes of green and blue. A portal opens wide like a yawning mouth and from its inky blackness the Dread Wolf stalks through. He pauses to glance up at her and the necklace in hand, his face a wretched display of relief and shock, before he turns to her assailants with a determined scowl.
"No! It's…" Reiveth backs away, arms rising to ward off this impossibility.
"Nevaelathsan," Fen'Harel greets his kin, low and dangerous. "Ah, the final goal of your organization becomes clear."
"Harellan," they reply with more venom and emotion than Fen'Lin has heard from the stoic Elvhen. Her prison flashes and fades as Nevaelathsan races forward to attack Fen'Harel with rock and fire and she falls to the ground in a heap of limbs still slow to react. She feels the Vir Dirthara shake beneath her, the pressure of powerful magic pulsing above her head.
When she manages to finally look up the battle is already over. Reiveth is forever frozen, caught mid step in his attempt to escape to the stairs. A ring of Knights in the same condition surround nothing, swords and bows and daggers raised to never find their target. Nevaelathsan stands in stone only a few feet in front of her, mouth open shouting silence and hand outstretched to ward or war against the wolf in his way. There is no sign of struggle on Fen'Harel, furs and plates of armor in perfect order, and if his breath is raised she believes it to be her doing as he stares at her now. The library is quiet and even so she can hear his questions loud and clear with the way he looks at her like water after a long thirst.
She does not blame him. There is only one person who should have known to clutch his medallion and call for his aid.
Fen'Lin scrambles to her feet and pays him no more mind. Taliesin's body lays in a pond of blood and she covers her hands and knees in it as she crashes back to the floor at his side. It is futile, she knows, as he grows cold and stiff, but she can't stop herself from calling to him, begging him to open his eyes, cursing this world from taking something else from her.
She does not rouse to defend herself as Fen'Harel approaches. There is little point- she has no more tricks up her sleeve, no more fight left in her veins. She does not expect much from the Dread Wolf's mercy, but there is no room for fear inside her heavy heart. He stops a few feet away, words trembling at the margins like it is with some effort he finds the will to speak. "I…remember him. A spy in my service before the Veil's collapse. Skilled, determined, clever. It was some time before I realized his loyalty was to another."
"He…he was-" Her only true friend all these years. Her mentor, her lover, her family- whatever she needed he was there to provide, for he made a promise to see her through until the end and it was one oath sworn that was actually kept. Fen'Lin drops her head onto his still chest and breathes in the scent of copper and elfroot, tears soaking into the saturation of blood beneath her cheek.
When she opens her eyes again it takes her a moment to realize that she has been left alone to grieve. Fen'Harel is gone. She does not understand. He left her, left the thorn in his paw untouched after so many months of searching for it, of frustrated puzzles and forlorn memories. All he needed to do was reach out, confirm his suspicions and finally know the truth once and for all. The wolf had his teeth around her neck and chose to let go.Why-
She gasps, reaching up to smear red across her mask. She forgot to hide her voice.