AN: You know the drill, for the NSFW parts, find me as Unstoppablei at AO3! It's a much longer chapter over there!
Chapter 29: Truths Said and Unsaid
It was a relief to leave Solas' empty chambers and return to the crush of humanity. The party was in full swing. Sera was now riding on Bull's shoulders, raising her beer stein to the heavens and occasionally hitting her head on the chandeliers. Josephine had given up all hope of reining them in. Luckily, Celene and Briala were ensconced in a corner sipping wine together, and Queen Anora was engaged in solemn conversation with Cassandra about rebuilding the Seekers of Truth. Vivienne was entertaining a group of important nobles. Cole was nowhere to be seen, but that was expected.
Errol flitted from group to group for a while, accepting thanks and congratulations and a few more drinks, but not so many that she felt anything more than a pleasant buzz. It felt good to be among her friends. She still couldn't believe that all of them had survived, that the only death that truly weighed in the pit of her stomach was Hawke. Part of her wanted to let Varric write whatever he wanted as penance for letting her die, but she knew she couldn't do that. She'd figure out how to sway him eventually, just not tonight.
Finally, she had kissed enough cheeks and curtsied enough that she felt she could slip away without it being inappropriate. Errol skirted the throne and headed toward her door, sighing in relief, but as she was about to touch the cool wood a hand clasped around her wrist.
"If you'll excuse me, I was just going to— oh!" she said, turning around to see Cullen standing there.
He stepped closer to her and slid his hand along her back. "I thought I might claim some of your attention," he said, his smile pulling at the scar along his lip. "I believe I made a promise to you earlier, after all."
Her heart sped up instantly. "I— yes, of course," she breathed, stepping back to the door and pulling him along with her.
"The sun is coming up."
Errol shifted and sat up, watching as the sun started to rise over the mountains and flood the room with yellow and pink light. "It's really over," she breathed.
Cullen leaned against the headboard and Errol settled against his chest. Together they watched the sun rise. She felt as if it meant something, like it was chasing away the last of the darkened shadows that Corypheus cast.
"I don't know what happens after this," he confessed, arms settling protectively around her.
Light filled the room, clear as crystal. Below them, the party had gone quiet; perhaps they were all watching the long night fade as well. "Neither do I," she said. "But I think we're off to a good start."
The next day, Errol found Morrigan in the room where the witch rarely slept, packing her few things into a well-worn bag.
"Leaving us so soon?"
"I was not going to slip away without saying goodbye," Morrigan said, carefully placing a wrapped bundle into the bag. "While I do intend the entrust the Eluvian in the Inquisition's care, I need to make sure it will properly looked after. And you and I still need to speak."
Errol curled her hands into fists, her nails just brushing the crescent-moon scars from years of clenching them too tight. "You're right. We do."
Morrigan turned and arched an eyebrow at her. "Ah. We've changed our mind, I see." She let her gaze linger on the curve where Errol's neck met her shoulder. "I have something to show you myself. Let us adjourn to somewhere more… private." At Errol's look, Morrigan raised her shoulders in an elegant shrug. "Leliana has never warmed to me, as it seems she has never warmed to you. She always sensed there was something wrong, something just out of reach that she couldn't grasp. The Nightingale unable to uncover a secret in her own castle? The horror. There are still spies about, even now that the immediate danger is over. Come."
She swept past Errol, her feet making no sound. Up the stairs, through long hallways and closed doors, until they reached the Eluvian. With one wave, the glass vanished, and warm mist curled from its empty expanse.
"The most private place there is," Morrigan said. "Also, where rests an answer that you seek."
Errol followed her through the mirror and found herself once again at the Crossroads, surrounded by mirrors that seemed to go on forever. Morrigan sealed the Eluvian behind her and turned. "Now," she said, her voice huskier, almost hungry in her thirst for knowledge. "The mark on your neck. That is what you wanted to show me, yes? I knew you could not just let me leave without knowing what it was, for both of our sakes."
Errol still hesitated. "I'm… scared," she admitted.
"The truth is frightening," Morrigan said. "But that does not mean you should not know it."
Errol forced herself to hold that golden-eyed gaze, like staring into the eyes of a wild hawk. Then she nodded and dropped her hands to the ties of her vest. "Yes," she said softly. "I have to know."
The vest dropped from her shoulders, exposing the silvery lines of scar tissue. Morrigan sucked in a great breath and approached her, her fingers gently hovering over it.
"Where did you get this?" she hissed, sounding genuinely alarmed. "Who gave this to you?"
"It… doesn't matter. What is it? Really?"
"It does matter." Morrigan grabbed her chin, scanning her face as if to pull the truth out of her. "The Well tells me that what you bear is the mark of Fen'Harel. A mark of protection, true, but one that names you as a lover of the Dread Wolf." She dropped Errol's chin and stumbled back. "Who gave it to you?"
"It's not… it's not like that!" Errol hurried to explain. "It's just the spell, the magic of it to protect me, I'm no one's lover, it's not from the god himself…" She trailed off; Morrigan was shaking her head.
"This is no simple magic that can be studied and duplicated, foolish girl. This is a magic that belongs to the god and only the god. It cannot be replicated by any other."
Color drained from Errol's face. Oh, shit. "Wait. So you're saying…"
Morrigan looked her dead in the eyes. "The only one who can bestow that mark… is Fen'Harel himself."
"No…" Errol said, backing up and waving her hands, and to her horror she began to laugh a little hysterically. "No, that's not… that's not poss— no nonononoonoonnoooo…. oh shit oh shit oh SHIT—"
Morrigan looked like she was trying to comprehend. "So you didn't make love to—"
"NO!" Errol exclaimed. "I mean, we fooled around a little, but we didn't— oh SHIT," she groaned, sinking her head into her hands. "It makes so much SENSE now, all of that TALK, that FUCKING TALK, about IMMORTALITY, about being KIN TO GODS, FUCK, SHIT, ASS, FUCK I'M SO STUPID—"
"This is… a most unusual reaction," Morrigan said delicately. "Yet you still have not said a name."
"It's —" Errol said. Morrigan tilted her head.
"Come again?"
"It's —"
"Forgive me, I—"
"It's fucking —!"
Every time Errol tried to say his name the word seemed to warp and change until it was meaningless. She screamed silently, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Why can't I say it?!"
"Magic is binding your tongue, as it is fogging my mind, keeping me from seeing the obvious," Morrigan said softly. "Clearly he walked among us. If only I had known sooner I could have… but now it seems his powers have grown, and we cannot reveal or uncover what he does not wish. It is… most unpleasant." She frowned. "Did you say that you 'fooled around' with the—"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Morrigan nodded and pursed her lips. "Then I fear there is nothing left to say on the matter. Come, I have something you must see."
They walked deeper into the Crossroads, past winding paths of dark and shattered Eluvians, the occasional clear mirror like a breath of fresh air. The further they walked the thinner the magic stretched, the Fade tighter around them, and Errol knew that when this bubble of Space collapsed on itself this area would be the first to go.
"The Well showed me a great many things," Morrigan said, coming to a stop in front of an ancient Eluvian. It was unbroken, the frame around it tarnished, the statues at its base so weathered Errol couldn't tell what they were originally supposed to be. "One of them was this."
She moved her arms, and the mirror rippled but didn't fully open; like a watery window, it flooded the pitch-black other side with blue light.
Errol stepped forward. "This is…" she breathed. "Where is this?"
"Somewhere in the very south of your world," Morrigan said. "Ancient, likely deep underground."
The blue light flickered off of slick white walls. "Or deep under the ice," Errol said.
"Yes. Protected through the ages by the barest of magics, from a time when this area was not frozen but a warm grassland with its own civilization and people unlike any you've known." She put a hand on Errol's arm. "Be warned, you cannot cross through this way as you are - as a spirit, you would dissipate and die. Only someone with a body could step through this gate if they had the key. Which is unlikely to ever occur. I am showing you only a vision, not opening the door. I cannot."
Errol nodded, her gaze fixed on the image before her. It was a rounded chamber of ice, with some kind of stone statues bordering the edge of the mirror, but Errol couldn't see what they were from this vantage point. Red flowers bloomed impossibly at its base. At the top of the chamber was a small circular hole with a black cord running out of it; her eyes followed the cord to the ground, and there in front of her was a—
"What is that?" Morrigan asked, appalled and fascinated.
Errol's breath caught. It was some kind of remote controlled device, with blinking lights and a rotating camera on top, the lens of which was currently fixed on them.
"Turn the Eluvian off," she said quickly. "It can see us."
"It can?" Morrigan asked curiously. "You do have things akin to magic."
"Off, now!" she snapped, and Morrigan reluctantly waved her arm and the Eluvian went dark.
"Have no fear, no one on your side has a key or any memory of how to use one. They might consider any interaction with magic a thrill, something to be fascinated with, but then it will pass. Your world will never see the kind of magic we do. Perhaps it did once, in an age lost to memory, but never again. Worlds change, and magic unnurtured easily dies."
Errol placed her palm on the closed Eluvian. The glass was cool. So close to the home she would never, could never return to.
"Thank you Morrigan," she said thickly. "It's good to know that it's here, even if I can't use it."
"It felt… necessary to show you," Morrigan said. "Though why I cannot say." She was quiet for a moment, letting Errol mourn. It wasn't until Errol straightened, her eyes dry, that Morrigan turned and began to walk back the way they came. "Come, it is time I departed Skyhold, and you have much to do, Inquisitor. Corypheus may be defeated but the Inquisition lives on. What happens next… is up to you."