A/N: This chapter is brought to you by the Eurotrip soundtrack song, "Scotty Doesn't Know," except replace Scotty with Solas. Because…Solas doesn't know. Oh. Solas doesn't know. So don't tell Solas. Solas doesn't know! This chapter is pretty much wall-to-wall jokes, most of them at poor Solas' expense. Also, this chapter is for Antgirl...who will find me to be a horrible tease indeed!
Five
Solas Doesn't Know
"One thing I've always wondered," Iron Bull said as he clipped on his armored shoulder guard and tugged it into place. "Are you elves born with those pointy ears or do they grow in?"
"Is that a serious question?" Ellana asked, unsure whether to laugh at him or frown. She wriggled her bare toes, adjusting her chainmail leggings. Was it her imagination or did it already feel a tad snug around her midsection? The extra weight of the armor already made her breasts ache. She rose to her feet, stretching with a groan.
"Of course," Iron Bull said and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Why wouldn't it be?" He grabbed his two-handed great-axe and hefted it over his shoulder, surveying the storage room with his single blue eye.
"Why are you wondering about this now?" she asked, hands on her hips. The eluvian gleamed a cerulean blue behind her, glinting from Iron Bull's armor.
He grinned. "I think you know why, Boss."
"No," Ellana retorted, keeping her expression as neutral and unreadable as she could. "I really don't."
"I'm just curious," he said and laughed. "I've never seen an elven imekari before."
Ellana didn't bother asking for a translation of his Qunlat—she usually regretted it when she did. Busying herself with examining her bow, she tried to be nonchalant and shrugged in answer to his question. "We're born with them." Distraction, deflection, humor. "What about you Qunari? I assume your horns must grow in, but are your ears pointed from birth?"
Iron Bull snorted. "Yeah, but our ears are soft. I've bumped into Dalish by accident in a fight and her ears are like knifepoints." He hesitated a moment and then raised one meaty hand up to gesture apologetically. "Uh, I didn't mean to—"
"It's okay," she said, pushing aside the desire to ask who had told him about her pregnancy, but that would break Josephine's cardinal rule not to confirm it. So instead she slung her bow over her shoulder and looked to the closed door of the storage room. "What do you think is keeping Cassandra and Blac—" She cut herself off, correcting the mistake. "Rainier."
"Cassandra is probably still changing her clothes," Iron Bull said. "And Rainier has that beard to take care of." He followed her gaze to the door. "Shouldn't we bring Solas?"
Ellana pretended to be absorbed with her finger guards on her drawing hand to avoid looking at Iron Bull. "He's busy elsewhere."
Iron Bull snorted. "Boss, you gotta learn to lie better. He's going to be mad as a high dragon whose hatchlings have been slaughtered when he hears you did something like this without him."
Yes, she thought and withheld a sigh. He will be furious. Her heart ached as if burning hands had hold of it and were squeezing. Sniffing, she checked the leather straps on her armor for the third time to stay busy and prevent herself from thinking about what she was about to do.
The door opened then, finally, and Cassandra strode in with Rainier and Dorian at her heels. The brilliant gold of the Divine's armor stole Ellana's breath. "Cassandra," she said, eyes widening even further as she took in the oblong crescent of her helmet that made her look as though her head was the yolk of a gold metallic egg. "Wow—I see they couldn't let you wear a practical hat even in armor."
"You know you'll have to get that armor dirty, right?" Iron Bull asked.
"Enough," Cassandra grumbled. "I understand it is ridiculous but my attendants refused to listen."
"Since when have you cared what other people think?" Rainier asked, chuckling and then cleared his throat as Cassandra glared at him, adding, "Pardon me, your holiness." His own armor, the shining blue-gray of a true Warden, glimmered even in the low light of the storage room. The griffon emblazoned on the front gleamed like water in the sun.
"I have always cared about tradition," Cassandra reminded him. "And the armor is strong, even if it will draw enemy fire like a beacon."
"Not to mention blind them," Dorian quipped, earning another of Cassandra's potent glares. "No, seriously. I applaud the strategy. It's genius."
"Inquisitor," Cassandra said, her brown eyes landing on Ellana and her lips quirking in an uncomfortable half-frown. "I must ask you—are you certain you wish to do this?" Her gaze kept dropping lower on Ellana's body. "Leliana briefed me…on all of it."
Ellana felt her cheeks catch fire at Cassandra's pathetic attempt to be tactful. She shot quick, covert glances at the others and felt her shoulders slouch as she saw Dorian's knowing smirk and Rainier's sudden intense interest in his own boots. Fen'Haral's balls, everyone really does know. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Yes, I'm sure I want to do this, Cassandra."
Cassandra shuffled from foot to foot, chewing a corner of her lip for a moment. "Shouldn't we bring Solas as well?"
"You said Leliana briefed you," Ellana reminded her, making a face. "That should have included that Solas isn't being truthful with us. I want to see the Crossroads and the situation with the Qunari personally."
Cassandra nodded, but she didn't look any happier. "I understand, Inquisitor, but surely we should at least let him know…" She blinked then, her cheeks reddening as she stammered to clarify her words. "About this expedition, I mean. Not—anything else."
Dorian burst out laughing from behind her, doubling over. Iron Bull had begun chuckling in his deep-throated voice as well, grinning in the Tevinter's direction.
"I don't see what is so funny," Ellana grumbled, glaring. Her heart pounded in her ears as she struggled to keep her own reaction cold and unaffected—as if she truly didn't understand. Her lips kept twitching, her chin wrinkling as her inner emotions swung between humiliation, awkwardness, horror, along with the desire to just give in and laugh with them at the painful obviousness of Cassandra's explanation.
"I'll tell you what's so funny," Dorian said, gasping as he began to recover. "You see—I just spoke with Solas a few minutes ago and he doesn't know. Isn't that delightfully ironic, considering he knows everything?"
Cassandra growled. "Show some respect, Tevinter."
"Enough," Ellana snapped, raising both hands up, palms outward in a motion commanding them to be silent. "Can we just get to the Crossroads and get back before Arl Teagan declares war on us for ordering the extended recess?"
"I wanted to strangle that man with my bare hands," Cassandra said, snarling.
"You could throw pies at him like the Inquisitor did," Rainier suggested with a laugh.
"How do you—" Ellana shook her head, cutting herself off. "Never mind." Sera, of course. She pointed to the eluvian. "I'm going through that damned mirror even if I have to do it alone. Are you all going to join me or stand around here giggling like children?"
"I rather thought my laughter to be decidedly charming and rather manly," Dorian quipped, stroking his mustache with one finger as he grinned in response to her glare.
"I like it," Iron Bull said, waggling an eyebrow.
"See? My point exactly," Dorian said, smirking.
"Oh for—would you two get a room already?" Ellana scolded them. As Dorian laughed again she turned to the mirror and walked toward it, one hand outstretched. The sound of armor clanking and thumping footsteps followed her, letting her sigh with relief that the embarrassing conversation was over. Elgar'nan's breath, I can't put off telling Solas any longer.
She pushed her right hand through the mirror, feeling its cold magic send a chill over her. As soon as I've seen the Crossroads for myself, she promised. Then I'll tell him.
"Have you seen Commander Cullen?" the noblewoman with the muffled voice asked, and Solas could picture her lips hidden behind a ridiculous collar. "Who wouldn't want to bed him? Can you really blame the Inquisitor?"
Solas kept his expression neutral as he lingered in the shade of the garden wall, eavesdropping on a group of chatty Orlesian women standing just around the corner. He wiped sweat off his brow and then his head with one sleeve, frowning to himself and longing for a bath. So far he'd heard the women bounce between broad and often unrelated topics, usually inane and useless to him, but he knew they'd recognized him earlier when he strolled by and had hoped to overhear something valuable by lingering just around the corner from them.
"Did you hear Madame de Fer say our dear lady Inquisitor was faint during a trip to the spas?" asked the noblewoman with a higher-pitched, more youthful voice. She giggled, the sound grating on Solas' ears.
"Of course I've heard," the woman with the oldest voice replied, sounding irritable. "And it explains why the Inquisition's commander has refused every marriage proposal for the last three years!"
Solas scoffed under his breath, fast losing interest. Why had he decided this was a good idea? But he already knew the answer: because his Inquisition spy had claimed he knew nothing about any rumors floating around the palace. The spy, an Elvhen man named Var, had once served in Solas' forces as a mage but had awoken from uthenera unable to access the Fade, much to his horror and shame. Solas had reassured him, encouraging him to join the Inquisition as a "city elf" recruit so they could train him as a rogue and overcome his newfound inability to cast magic. Var had recovered in the two years since joining the Inquisition and Solas hadn't doubted his loyalty previously—destroying the Veil was the only way for him to feel the bliss of touching the Fade and casting again—but he'd been twitchy and vague when Solas questioned him about palace rumor. The reaction suggested Var did know something, but he wouldn't repeat it despite Solas' urging.
That left Solas standing about sweating, trying to overhear whatever it was Var wouldn't tell him and wondering if he'd have to confront the spy about his loyalties. Both tasks were distasteful and left Solas with what felt like a permanent scowl.
Admitting defeat for the moment, Solas left the garden wall, searching for a better group to eavesdrop on. He crossed into the open space of the courtyard and saw Varric beside the fountain with his advisor. Instead of skirting around them Solas made straight toward them.
"Chuckles!" the dwarf greeted him, throwing his arms out wide in a gesture of welcome. "So good to finally run across you! The Inquisitor was looking for you yesterday and I had heard you were…away?" He shrugged, chuckling. "No matter. Good to see you're back."
"Hello," the advisor greeted Solas with a nod. "I'm Bran Cavin. You're Solas? The Inquisition's Fade expert?"
"Don't get him started on the Fade," Varric warned with a laugh. "He'll talk your ear off."
Solas struggled to quash the impatience pressing on him from within as he smiled at Bran. "I am indeed Inquisitor Lavellan's Fade expert." He barely paused before switching his attention back to Varric. "I was indisposed yesterday, but I am much recovered now." His mind churned, searching for a subtle way to draw out gossip from the human and the dwarf without getting bogged down in pleasantries and coming up blank. "I haven't been able to catch up much with the Inquisitor today. What did I miss?"
Bran raised a finger, as if to interject something, but what he said was, "I'll let you two catch up." He whipped around and strode off to stand awkwardly by himself, still within sight and hearing distance.
Solas restrained a frown of irritation before Varric let out a dry laugh that turned into a groan. "So…uh, sorry to hear you were, ah, out of the loop yesterday." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them and looking away for a moment before his expression brightened. "Have you tried talking with Sera?"
"One does not talk with Sera as much as listen with only a vague hope of understanding every other word," Solas replied with a quick shake of his head.
"You're saying you did talk to her?" Varric asked, cocking his head to one side quizzically.
"She insulted me a few times and left," Solas explained, wiping at his forehead again. "I had hoped you would be more coherent."
"Coherent, yes," Varric said with an uncomfortable smirk. "But…" He sighed, giving an exaggerated shrug. "Look. Not a lot happened yesterday, but people are talking. All I know is Ellana was looking for you and couldn't find you." He smirked, his smile lopsided. "I'm not a relationship expert by any means, Chuckles, but if you have a question about the Inquisitor and…whatever happened yesterday…I'd suggest you try asking her about it. Not me."
Solas let out a little breath, only half a sigh. "I suppose you are right. Unfortunately the Inquisitor is preoccupied with the Exalted Council at the moment."
Varric's expression brightened with humor. "Actually you're in luck, Chuckles. A servant came by and told Bran and I about an hour ago that the summit has been placed in recess for the rest of the day."
The news hit Solas like a saarebas' fireball. He flinched and immediately looked toward the stairs and the palace. "The summit has been adjourned…?"
She didn't tell me, didn't send for me.
"Yeah," Varric said, a note of concern entering his voice. "Rumor is the Inquisitor hasn't been feeling the greatest. What that means is anyone's guess." He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat, awkward and shuffling as he avoided Solas' gaze.
"Please excuse me," Solas said and strode quickly away. He didn't miss Varric's weak muttered curse behind him: "Ah, shit."
As he made his way up the stairs a few of the comments he'd heard replayed in his mind until he found himself with the permanent frown on his face again. Our dear lady Inquisitor was faint during a trip to the spas, the noblewoman had said. Varric's voice followed: The Inquisitor hasn't been feeling the greatest. The memory of Ellana standing in the study, fanning herself and looking as though she might gag at any moment kept flashing against his eyelids whenever he blinked.
The guards at the gate admitted him with no trouble, nodding at the sight of his armband. Solas made his way at a swift, determined pace with his head up and his eyes narrowed, navigating confidently through the palace halls. Servants stepped out of his way and cast him nervous stares that he ignored. He saw three of his own spies—two from the palace and one with the Inquisition—gawp for a second before turning away as though they didn't recognize him either as Solas or Fen'Haral.
The door to the storage room holding the eluvian now had three Orlesian guards stationed there. They stiffened at the sight of him, their mouths tightening below their gilded masks. "I'm sorry, sir," said one of them, most likely the highest ranked. "You're not allowed here. Please move along."
"I must speak with the Inquisitor," Solas said, his voice firm and gruff.
"Inquisitor Lavellan isn't here," the guard replied. "I'd suggest you check the guest wing of the palace."
Solas hesitated, scrutinizing the men and weighing his options before his shoulders hunched slightly, resigning himself to searching elsewhere first. He wanted to be wrong. But as he pivoted and strode back down the hall, rounding the corner to be out of sight, the knot of anxiety in his stomach seemed to grow tighter with every heartbeat. Away from the guards but still within earshot, Solas leaned against the wall and covered his face with both hands, struggling to think through the anguish churning inside his head.
She would not go through the mirror without me…
"Who was that bald rabbit?" one of the guards asked in a gravelly voice.
"Didn't you know? That's the Inquisitor's Fade expert and jilted lover," another man with a pompous, nasally voice replied, laughing.
"Really?" asked the leader, who'd spoken to Solas. "That Inquisitor is a beautiful woman, for a rabbit anyway. Why would she bed someone obsessed with the Fade?" He let out a grunting laugh. "No wonder she turned him away."
Gravel-voice put in, "They say she walked in the Fade, physically. Twice!"
"So maybe she was obsessed with the Fade too?" Nasal-voice suggested.
"She must've woken up one day and realized he was too busy jerking it in the Fade to satisfy her," the leader said, guffawing.
Solas snarled to himself, hands clenching into fists. Clueless, barbaric shem fools. On silent feet, despite the rage roaring inside him, Solas stalked away for the guest wing, blind to the gold trim walls and ivory paneling and deaf to the whispering he heard from the occasional group of guards or nobles lingering in wider passageways.
The light in the Crossroads stung Ellana's eyes and left her stomach loopy. She kept trying to see the light source, instinct making her check the time of day, but this wasn't reality as she knew it. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she regretted not bringing Solas. At least then they'd know they weren't going to get cut off or lost in this place.
An hour had passed since she and the others had entered through the Halamshiral eluvian and found a vertigo-inducing sight of islands made of black rock that hovered on air. They had crossed over a rock bridge to the next closest island and discovered an active eluvian waiting on it beneath a rocky overhang. After some bickering they chose not to enter it and instead explored around the new island and found a second eluvian hidden around a corner and up a small trail through the black rock.
They'd returned to the front of the new island, instinctually staying close to the bridge that led back to the Halamshiral eluvian. Ellana kept squinting against the light, searching the distance for anything remarkable at all and finding nothing except more of the fractured, nauseating light.
"There's nowhere else to go," Rainier said for the hundredth time. "One of the mirrors on this rock must connect to one across the gap." He pointed toward the island in the distance where they could see the blue glow of another active eluvian.
"Or not," Dorian countered, the fingers of one hand on his chin as he considered their position. "You could step out and find yourself falling into the bottomless pit. I don't think this place is big on following the laws of nature but I don't want to find out if falling to my death is still a thing here."
"We must be missing something," Cassandra said with a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. Her gaze landed on Ellana. "Do you have any ideas at all? "
"I've never been to this part of the Crossroads," Ellana admitted with a helpless shrug. "The part Morrigan took me to was like a courtyard full of mirrors, nothing like this mess."
"Solas would've known," Iron Bull put in, daring to speak aloud what Ellana knew they were all thinking.
"Yes," Ellana admitted aloud, frowning with disapproval. "But I wanted to see for myself if it was as bad as he claimed."
"If the Qunari are here somewhere, it's inside the mirrors," Rainier said. "And the truth is we don't know which are safe to enter—but I'd be happy to volunteer to be the first to try it out."
"Thank you, Thom," Ellana said with a warm smile. "I appreciate the offer but I'd rather not risk anyone's life on hunches right now. I had hoped we'd encounter the sentinel elves Solas said he met, particularly their leader, Abelas."
"Let's hope they don't see me first and attack us," Iron Bull said with a dry chuckle.
"We're doomed then," Dorian said, smirking. "Because you're a giant. With horns. Of course they'll see you first."
"You like the horns," Iron Bull said, his grin mischievous. "Everyone does. Gives you something to hold onto when—"
"I've heard quite enough of that," Cassandra interjected in a loud voice, her lip curling in disgust. "We must deal with the problem at hand."
Dorian sniggered, mumbling under his breath. "…at hand."
Cassandra glared at him, making a disgusted noise. "Ugh." Something glinted in her ridiculously gold, shiny armor, drawing Ellana's gaze away from the group and toward the island across from them.
Two bipedal shapes emerged from the mirror in rapid succession and sprinted toward the edge of the distant island. Gasping, Ellana pointed. "Look!"
They watched, wide-eyed, as the first two figures blurred in a snowy white streak, flowing across the gap to reach another island parallel to the one Ellana and her companions were on. More warriors, this time they were distinctly Qunari, spilled out of the mirror, rushing after the first two but halting at the edge of the island. Ellana saw them hesitate and then a green glow issued from the edge of the rock. The Qunari charged forward and the green glow spread with them, illuminating the rock bridge.
"I'll be damned," Dorian said with a whistle. "That's a mite impressive."
Iron Bull muttered something in Qunlat that might've been praise or a curse, it was impossible to tell. Rainier and Cassandra stayed silent, their eyes following the distant chase across the void. The Qunari moved quickly but had to stop at every ledge, doing something to unlock the rock bridges. The first two figures had long since vanished by streaking across the gaps almost unceasingly.
"Were those elves?" Cassandra asked Ellana, arching her brow.
"I think so," she answered with a nod. "Elven mages."
"They were Fade stepping," Dorian explained, his brown eyes still wide with astonishment. "At least, I think they were. It's a simple enough trick and useful for dodging in a fight, but I've never seen it used to leap bottomless pits before."
"Could you do it?" Rainier asked, unable to hide the doubtful tone of the question.
Dorian scoffed. "In the real world? I've been doing it since I was a child. We used to play games with it. First one to drop out gets his ass kicked and his nose bloodied, that sort of thing. But the stakes are a little higher here, as it were."
"Let's not try anything until we're sure it works for…" Ellana hesitated, catching herself before she used a slur for non-elves, humans in particular. "…everyone." They'd already established in their first few minutes in the Crossroads that for some unknown reason the light appeared different to Ellana here than it did to Iron Bull or the humans. The Crossroads had been created by elves for elven use and apparently that granted perks. Perhaps enhanced Fade stepping was one of them.
Dorian nodded. "Naturally."
The sound of shouting and war cries echoed from somewhere out of sight of their current vantage point and Ellana shuddered. Had the Qunari pursuers caught up to their prey, or had the elves setup an ambush? Was there a way for the fighting to reach them? And how were the Qunari manipulating the stone bridges between the islands?
She sighed, knowing she couldn't put it off any longer. They needed Solas. He would have all the answers to these questions and probably hours of additional extraneous knowledge. Her chest tightened with anxiety, anticipating that not only would Solas be furious with her for going alone, but she'd also floor him with the news of her pregnancy. The realization hit her like a slap across the cheeks that she had no idea how he would react to her news. They'd never discussed becoming lifelong partners or having children and although she routinely shared stories of her childhood with her clan, Solas never had anything to add. He'd always listened and laughed or consoled her, but it was as if he'd fallen out of the Fade fully grown with no parents, no family life to speak of.
Leliana's comment rang through her mind again: It's always the quiet ones who surprise you, and not always in pleasant ways.
"I think we should return to the palace," she announced with a resigned sigh. "We need Solas to—"
The eluvian ahead of them on the island made a humming sound and flared bright as a lean figure wearing silver armor spilled out of it, scrambling forward and then flailing as it reacted to the Inquisitor's group. Ellana recognized the bright armor and caught the dark lines of gray-black vallaslin on the elf's forehead. Hoping to prevent him from attacking in confusion, she shouted, "Mythal'enaste!"
Another figure burst through the eluvian, landing with equal grace but stopping more quickly than the first elf. This one wore lighter armor and carried daggers on her back, but she too had Mythal's vallaslin on her forehead. Seeing Ellana's group she did a double take, her eyes wide.
"Where's Fen'Haral?" the male elf asked, shouting.
"Who?" Iron Bull called back.
Ellana shook her head, frowning at the bizarre question. Had this sentinel elf been smacked on the head? Was it maybe some kind of code to see if they were friend or foe?
The rogue yelled, "Qunari are behind us! Will you fight them?"
That was a question they could answer.
Ellana drew her bow, briefly checking on her companions to see they'd drawn their weapons as well. "We will fight," she answered. "How many—"
Before she could finish the eluvian hummed again, glowing brighter as two Qunari warriors in full armor charged out of the mirror, their weapons already drawn. They shouted war cries and ran headlong toward the two sentinels, not even noticing Ellana's party until Iron Bull charged at them with a roar, swinging his great-axe. Ellana drew her bow and put an arrow through the nearest Qunari's throat.
Two more Qunari rushed out of the eluvian and these stumbled as they registered the Inquisition forces. Their surprise gave Cassandra and Rainier the advantage as they pressed forward with shield bashes and hacked at the horned warriors with their blades. Ellana edged closer to Dorian and fired again, dropping another Qunari as he emerged through the mirror.
"Just like old times, isn't it?" she shouted to him over the fray. She felt her skin tingle as he cast a fireball and launched it at the Qunari about to throw his spear at Iron Bull's blind side.
"Yes, but with a lot more Qunari," Dorian replied, gritting his teeth as he cast a barrier over them both.
A Qunari with different armor came through the eluvian then and Iron Bull shouted at the sight of him, pointing. "Saarebas! Mage!"
"A lot more Qunari indeed," Ellana grumbled.
At the broad doors that marked the entrance to the guest wing, Inquisition and Orlesian guards allowed Solas through with a casual nod, acknowledging his armband. Solas passed endless doorways, most of them closed. The occasional arched floor to ceiling window showed him the courtyard outside, bathed in late afternoon sunshine and full of the nobility sipping wine and champagne as spies masquerading as servants flitted between them. After walking the full length of the guest wing he found it was mostly empty, though somewhere in the distance Solas could make out the groans of a couple having sex. With most of the doors closed he had no way of knowing where Ellana's room was.
With the anxious knot inside him feeling like a fist against his lungs, Solas returned to the guards at the entrance. He paused just out of sight of them, straining his ears to listen as they chatted together to pass the time, hoping to solidify or destroy his own growing fears.
"Divine Victoria went with them?" one of the Orlesian guards asked.
"Yes," said the Inquisition woman. "Decked out in her full armor!"
"Fenedhis," Solas cursed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as the knot inside him seemed to pound against his stomach. Dread and rage made it hard to breathe, like invisible hands choking him from within. After a few ragged breaths he opened his eyes and was about to round the corner when his skin prickled and he twisted at the waist to see Cole standing behind him.
"You're hurting," Cole said, his eyes unfocused. "Aching, torn, lost. How could she go? I begged her not to."
Solas kept his voice low as he replied, "I do not have time to talk right now, Cole."
"She thought the same," Cole said, his voice and gaze drifting off as he went on, slipping deeper into his spirit self, clearly quoting another person. "'Have you told him yet?' 'No, I haven't had the chance. The sentries just brought him…Fenedhis, why do I always feel like I'm about to vomit?'"
The elven curse made Solas hesitate, watching Cole. "Can you tell me about Ellana?" he asked, barely whispering the question.
Cole closed his eyes a moment and then said in a rush, "Ginger with tea, sharp, spicy, delicious. Where is Solas? I have to tell him. Where could he have gone? Whispers all around me, eyes following me. Does everyone know? The Dread Wolf take me and my big mouth."
He flinched at the Dalish curse, shaking his head, but he had little doubt now that Cole was in fact channeling Ellana. How many other Dalish elves were in the winter palace wondering where Solas had gone?
"Has she gone through the eluvian?' he asked, edging closer to Cole. "Cole, please…"
"Cerulean glow," Cole said, his voice soft as his eyes opened again. "Feels cold like water, prickling like magic as I put my hand through the glass…" He let out a little gasp and asked, "Am I…helping?"
"Yes," Solas said, his heart pounding against his throat. "But I must ask you for another favor that will help me a great deal more. Will you follow me?"
"Yes?" Cole said, though he phrased it as a question as though he wasn't sure.
Solas swung round the corner and headed for the guards at the entrance to the guest wing. Cole followed him—though he was soundless, Solas could sense the spirit boy close behind him. The guards admitted him with nods, unconcerned by him. Their gazes slid off Cole, failing to take note of the spirit.
"Lower back aching," Cole said in a hushed voice as he took up a position at Solas' side. "Feet hurting. Maker, what I would give for a chair."
Any other time Solas might've commented on Cole's reading of the guards, encouraging or sharing insight with the spirit, but now he said nothing, remaining intent on crossing the palace as swiftly as possible. The fragments of rumor he'd heard kept churning his mind into chaos as he tried to make sense of them. Most of it would be rubbish, the usual rumormongering of the nobility. Yet Solas had known how to play the Game in Arlathan's court and understood it was more complex than a battlefield and could be just as dangerous.
Most rumors held truth in them somewhere—many of them only in the cultural reading, such as the guards' offensive banter about Solas being a jilted lover and his obsession with the Fade. That was a reflection of the Chantry's preaching against the Fade and the human assumption of superiority that dominated this world. The Orlesians expected the Inquisitor, beloved of the court, to have a lover they deemed worthwhile. Solas, as an elf, a mage, and a "Fade expert," was decidedly not beloved at court. Ironically all of those things had made him a sensation in Arlathan with Elvhen men and women clamoring to hear his tales. Even his humble background had been celebrated in those days as evidence by the nobility that their social caste system wasn't in fact broken beyond all repair. There were never any talented or interesting elves who became slaves! They rose above it and wound up at court, like Solas had of course.
"Old hurts, older anger, memories of beauty masking ugliness, turning blind eyes to suffering," Cole chattered next to him. Blinking, Solas cleared his mind, walling off his thoughts. Arlathan's class system was gone now and he had other things to worry about.
At the corner where he'd overheard the gossiping guards outside of the eluvian's storage room, Solas stopped and spoke in a whisper to Cole. "I must get through them, but they will not let me pass. I don't want to hurt them, but I cannot delay. If you can make them forget for just a moment as I slip through…"
"I can do that," Cole confirmed. "I can make them forget, if it helps."
"It will," Solas reassured him with a small but genuine smile. "You have my thanks."
Taking a breath inward and clenching his jaw, Solas rounded the corner at a brisk pace, heading straight for the Orlesians. The trio glanced at him and tensed, perhaps sensing menace in Solas' quickened pace or the hard set of his shoulders—or maybe it was just the way he held his hands slightly elevated, as if about to cast…because he was just about to cast.
Solas pounded the three guards with a half-strength veilstrike. The noise of it was louder in the confined space of the corridor than he'd anticipated, but the guards all fell with a cry, stunned. Solas sprinted for the door and opened it. The room inside was the same as when he'd last past through it, the eluvian gleaming invitingly.
In the hallway the Orlesians stirred quickly, whipping to face the room and deal with the threat. "How dare you…" the guard's voice faltered and stopped.
Solas checked over his shoulder and spotted Cole standing near the three guards. He raised a hand, taking the memory of Solas' attack. "Forget," he ordered them. His eyes slid to Solas. "Go," he said.
With a nod, Solas shut the door to make Cole's task of calming the guards easier, and grabbed up his staff from where he'd hidden it earlier, then rushed through the eluvian. As he stepped out with a little body-wide shiver at the mirror's magical caress, the song of the Crossroads enveloped him again. There'd been a time, long ago, when this place and its song made his heart beat faster with excitement at the journey of it, the exploration and thrill of reactivating dark mirrors when he was little more than a boy on a quest to learn. Now he just felt his stomach drop as if he'd fallen into the void head first, knowing Ellana had stumbled into this dangerous maze of eluvians, Qunari, and Elvhen magic without him to guide her.
The rock bridge he'd left between the Halamshiral island and the one beside it, which held the Revasan eluvian, was still intact. And on the island he saw blasts of fire, illuminating the group of fighters. His gaze found Ellana immediately, her lean figure bright against the dark rock, an arrow nocked and the bow fully drawn.
Solas charged toward the edge of the island, Fade stepping over the distance and popping out of the charge at will beside her, casting a barrier over her at once. She turned her head, startled and gawking as she reacted to his abrupt appearance. He didn't bother masking his anger, letting her see the snarl on his face but using it to fuel his offensive magic attacks.
He turned a warrior jabbing at Cassandra with his spear into a living wall of flame, igniting the Qunari in a form of spontaneous combustion. The warrior screamed with pain and horror, flailing wildly before he collapsed, his body already turning to ash. He sensed rather than saw the astonishment from Ellana and Dorian, but Cassandra he noticed gawking at the pile of charred remains, her eyes wide as dinner plates.
That was when he realized it was a spell they'd never seen before. Fenedhis.
The saarebas was all that remained, and he was panicking. He cast a sloppy fireball at Iron Bull as the horned giant barreled down on him alongside Rainier and one of the sentinel elves—an older elf named Zaron. He cursed Iron Bull in Qunlat, deflecting Zaron's spells even as he struggled to dodge the warriors' combined attacks. It was over quickly as Iron Bull's axe slammed down into the other Qunari's head and he crumpled in a spray of gore.
Breathing hard and with his heart still roaring in his ears, Solas gazed at the group, taking them in. Ellana's companions appeared unwounded though winded, each of them taking stock of their surroundings and registering his arrival. The pair of sentinels saw him and made eye contact, standing tense like good soldiers awaiting orders from their commander—which was exactly what they were. He tried to will them with his glowering stare not to address him as Fen'Haral.
"Solas," Ellana said, her voice pained and tight. He shot her a sidelong look, finding himself still breathing too quickly, though it had nothing to do with physical or magical exertion. She appeared unharmed and he could see her left hand wasn't glowing green the way it did around rifts or when exposed to Elvhen magic, but she did appear sweaty and pallid as if sickly.
Before he could speak Iron Bull called out, "Look who it is! The father to be!"
Solas stared at him, his angry frown changing immediately to confusion, as if the Iron Bull had started jabbering fluently in elven. The words were strangely slow to process, as if frozen by a spell like winter's grasp, but finally he cocked his head and grimaced, deciding he must have heard wrong. "…excuse me?"
"Oh," Iron Bull said, an apologetic lopsided smile spreading over his lips. He directed his next words to Ellana. "Sorry, Boss."
Solas' head whipped to Ellana, his mouth open and eyes narrowed, but before he could question her she twisted away toward the edge of the island. "Ellana?" he asked, his voice sounding strangled.
She held one hand up to him, palm out, signaling him to stand back. Then, unceremoniously, she leaned her head over the gap and proceeded to vomit.
Next Chapter:
Her lip trembled as she stared at him, the pain in her eyes as excruciating to him as glass shards driven beneath his fingernails. Cupping her cheek with one hand, he stroked his thumb over her lips, hoping to stop their quivering. "Who are you?" she breathed.
"I am Fen'Haral." He swallowed, hardly able to form the words. "I am the Dread Wolf."