A/N: Slower chapter this time, more relaxed as no one punches Solas this chapter. Haha! Please, if you have a comment or suggestion, drop me a line or review. I LOVE reviews, but of course, every reader does. Many thanks to those who have taken the time to review! It always makes me day!
Eleven
Playing the Game
Two days later, during a lunch recess of the summit, Ellana found herself popping grapes into her mouth as Inan, the elven healer Josephine had found for her, needled her with personal questions.
"When did you last bleed?" the healer asked. She held a parchment and clipboard much like Josephine's. Her quill pen scratched at the paper as she took notes on Ellana's last answers regarding symptoms.
Ellana shrugged in her padded chair. "Honestly, I can't recall. Eight weeks ago?"
Golden afternoon sunlight poured in through her window and a breeze carried the sweet scent of flowers. Ellana let the sunshine beat on her cheeks, soaking it up like a cat as she tried to keep herself from worrying about the summit and Solas and the rapidly approaching moment when she would resign power and return to being nobody again—just a barefaced Dalish elf.
"And do you know who the father is?" Inan asked. She stared at Ellana over her clipboard, one brow raised though her voice had been neutral and businesslike.
Now Ellana felt her cheeks warm with a blush of embarrassment. "Of course I know who the father is!"
"A thousand pardons, Inquisitor," Inan said, dropping into a bow from both he waist and the knees. "I meant no offense. Palace gossip suggested there might be some…uncertainty in the matter."
Ellana rolled her eyes and plucked another grape from the tray of fruits and cheeses in front of her on the writing desk in her bedchamber. "Palace gossip will repeat anything, no matter how ludicrous." She tossed the grape into her mouth and crushed it between her tongue and her front teeth.
"Then the father is an elf?" Inan pressed. "Not one of the humans? Not the commander?"
The spurt of sweet juice from the grape almost choked her as Ellana scowled at the physician. She swallowed before answering. "The father is most definitely an elf. And contrary to popular court belief, I am not involved with Commander Cullen in any way other than a strictly professional relationship." After coughing to clear the grape juice from her throat, Ellana grabbed a square of cheese, fingering it as she glared at Inan. "Are you here to ascertain my health or collect gossip? If so, could you please make sure you repeat that Solas is the baby's father. I'm getting tired of hearing about how I've slept with every man between here and Tevinter."
Inan suddenly grinned. "The Tevinter was my next guess if you told me the child's father was human."
The humor lighting the middle-aged elven woman's eyes was contagious, making Ellana chuckle and then break out laughing. "Dorian?" she asked, shaking her head and then correcting herself. "Ambassador Pavus you mean?" She snorted. "If only you knew."
"Knew what, your worship?" Inan asked, smirking. "That he prefers men?" She laughed at Ellana's startled look. "Oh, yes, his liaisons with that Qunari fellow haven't been exactly discreet. But you needed the laugh."
"Oh," Ellana said, blushing. "I see."
Inan cleared her throat. "Back to business, my lady. The child is a pureblooded elf?"
"Yes," Ellana replied, eating the cheese she'd been toying with between her fingers. "Why does that matter, exactly?"
"Half-bloods are difficult for elven women to carry," Inan explained, a light frown quirking her lips downward. "The babes are too big for elven mothers, humans being bigger-boned as it were. It creates troubled pregnancies and difficult deliveries." She made notes on her parchment again. "Fortunately for you, my lady, that won't be an issue. Now, if you'll allow it, I'd like to examine you physically."
Ellana sighed and took a long sip of her ginger-laced tea to wash down the taste of the cheese. Solas had told her to remain cautious around the healer but that he had no evidence she was a Qunari spy, which suggested she was probably trustworthy. Setting her teacup down, Ellana stood up to face the physician. "Examine away."
Inan set her clipboard and pen down on the writing desk and, after apologizing profusely, began pressing on Ellana's abdomen. Her face contorted with concentration as her hands worked, making Ellana grimace when the physician pressed on her bladder. After a few minutes Inan withdrew, nodding and smiling. "It's early yet, but I'm confident you've got a wee little one there. He'll be born around springtime in the new year."
Ellana shot her a speculative look. "He?"
The healer chuckled. "Apologies, my lady. I always call the babes boys. I've no evidence of it, just seems the mothers appreciate calling it one or the other. Makes the babe realer, especially this early when you don't have the belly to make it obvious." She fell silent a moment, brow furrowing. "That father is a mage, my lady?"
"Yes," Ellana confirmed with a nod. Does being one of the Evanuris count as being just a mage? Licking her lips, she added, "He's a Dreamer mage."
Inan made a face that Ellana couldn't quite read. She reached for her parchment and began taking notes. "Magic is frightfully difficult to predict. Do you have any mages in your immediate family, Lady Lavellan?"
"My brother is First to our Keeper," Ellana answered, unable to keep herself from beaming at the chance to talk about her family, even to a stranger. "My mother was sensitive to magic but not strong enough to cast. She could start a fire with her fingers, though. Father was First to our Keeper but he was killed when bandits attacked our clan two years ago." The organized bandits sent by the Duke of Wycome who would have killed the entirety of clan Lavellan had it not been for soldiers Ellana sent to defend them. The thought of coming so close to losing them in the violence of that time still made Ellana's chest constrict. It was bad enough she'd lost her father to the attacks.
Inan nodded, still writing frantically. "And the babe's father? How strong does magic run in his family?"
Ellana pinched her lips together, considering how best to answer a moment. "Both of his parents were mages. He's an only child."
"Magic runs strong within the People. I'd bet fifty royals this child manifests talent of some kind, considering his father, his uncle, and three of four grandparents were all mages." She smiled as she finished her note with a little flourish of her pen. "But that's a distant concern. You have to grow the little one first, after all. For now, my lady, I recommend nutritious food and plenty of fluids. Avoid stress and excessive exertion. If you have any concerns or experience pain or bleeding at any time of the day or night, please summon me at once."
Ellana nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Inan."
Bowing, the physician excused herself from the room, leaving Ellana alone with the tray of food and tea—and her thoughts. For the past two days Solas had led Inquisition mages and soldiers with a few of Ellana's inner circle companions into the Crossroads to continue rooting out the Qunari menace. They'd found the Qunari leader, a woman called the Viddasala—which was her title rather than her name, as Ellana understood it—inside a library construct, similar to the one Solas had said his own father worked inside. Ellana wished she could have seen it, but Solas insisted it was too dangerous. The library brimmed with old magic and the Anchor was certain to react. As much as Ellana longed to draw her bow again and don her armor, or do anything other than listen to Arl Teagan rant and rave and foam at the mouth at each summit meeting, it wasn't worth the risk.
She rubbed over her abdomen with one hand, still a bit shocked to realize that a year from now she'd be a mother. The idea was overwhelming and daunting, sneaking up on her at times to steal her breath away and leave her numb with shock. But then she'd remember the pride she saw in Solas' eyes whenever the topic came up and her love for him would blast away any fear she had, leaving only wonder. Who would have thought the Dread Wolf would be a doting father and partner?
Smiling to herself, Ellana popped another grape into her mouth. Hunt well emma lath, Fen'Harel.
Then, thinking of her family and her clan, Ellana pushed the tray away and dug into the drawer at the writing desk for ink and paper. She didn't write nearly as often as she should, always finding herself busy to the point of constant distraction as Inquisitor, but she knew she had to amend that now. Soon she'd likely be with them again, a hunter and mother of the People…
Where does that leave Solas?
She froze, her left hand on the ink pen and the right on the paper. With the death of Ellana's father clan Lavellan had just the acceptable amount of mages: three, two trained and one waiting in the wings. Before their father's death, Ellana's older brother, Mahanon, had been prepared to leave the clan to make room for a child who'd just begun manifesting magic to take the position as Second to the Keeper. The humans' fear of magic placed this restriction on Ellana's people, and as irritating as it was, it worked.
But returning to the clan with Solas would displace Mahanon again and in the two years since their father's death Ellana's brother had taken a wife and welcomed a daughter. Their Keeper would probably not get along with Solas either, considering he had some strong opinions about their lore and traditions. And Ellana had little doubt her child would someday develop magical gifts, considering its father was one of the Evanuris and magic was so prevalent in both families. Eventually then her own child might be traded away or rejected by her clan simply for possessing magic.
The thought made her set the pen down and scrub at her face with frustration. If and when Solas brought the Veil down this would all cease to be a concern. Of course there'd be new, different problems in that case…like finding a way not to kill everyone in the chaos.
A knock came at her door and a servant called, "Your worship, Divine Victoria has reconvened the summit."
"I'm coming." Ellana grabbed a handful of grapes and cheese cubes from the tray and headed for the door.
"C'mon, Tiny," Varric said, chuckling. "You've got to have a gut instinct one way or another on this. Boy or girl? It's even odds right now."
"It's always even odds," Dorian muttered, grumbling.
"Yeah," Bull said. "That's why I'm flipping a coin. You can't predict this sort of thing."
Dorian, Iron Bull, and Varric sat behind Solas, just within earshot as they continued placing wagers on the sex of his unborn child. Solas' hands clenched into fists inside his sleeves. He refused to acknowledge their betting or partake in it, but the tips of his ears burned with humiliation and he knew he wore an unhappy scowl that'd probably make Dorian and Varric laugh with delight at his expense if they could see it.
The other scouts and the smattering of mages—all humans this time, he'd noted—that Leliana and Cullen had sent with him on Ellana's orders lingered around the shattered library, foraging its priceless knowledge. They were resting after confronting Viddasala and the dozens of Qunari warriors and saarebas she'd thrown at them. They'd had several injuries and now the mages set about healing them as best they could.
The shattered Elvhen library made Solas' edgy on countless levels. Foremost was his current fear of being unmasked as the Dread Wolf by something within the library itself. The unwounded Inquisition mages and scouts Leliana and Cullen had sent with him on Ellana's orders spent every moment browsing around the books still on the shelves or riffling through the debris on the floor. They were focused and fascinated, as they should be by the ancient Elvhen library and its wealth of forgotten knowledge and history, but Solas suspected it was more than curiosity. Leliana had likely given them orders to actively search for clues about himself and the Dread Wolf. Given long enough to snoop they'd probably find something damning, so he tried to keep them moving.
His second problem was the heavy weight of his crimes against Elvhenan. The library was a perfect reminder of what the Veil had cost his people. The library had once been a beautiful place of eternal learning, where young elves, including Solas himself, had stayed for countless years to learn the accumulated wisdom of the Elvhen Empire. Solas had told Ellana it was similar to the construct his father worked in—but that'd been a half-truth. In fact, this shattered library was where his father had worked, devoting his life to maintaining the construct and its knowledge, and managing its spirit archivists.
Every so often their group had encountered an archivist spirit, still bound but long since fragmented by the sundering of the Fade from the waking world. Solas doubted any of them had the conscious intelligence to recognize him, but he encouraged the Inquisition people to steer clear of them, warning they could be dangerous. He didn't miss the suspicious looks Dorian and many of the others sent his way. They didn't believe him but didn't press the issue because they'd just return to the library and investigate independently once Solas retired for the day to the winter palace, where he'd be under constant surveillance by Leliana. His own spies within the Inquisition and the elves in the Crossroads had already confirmed that the humans returned each night without him.
He was fast running out of time. The humans would spring their trap on him eventually, or possibly find a way to force Ellana to reveal what she knew. What he didn't know was how they'd react after confirming their suspicions. Would they try to imprison him? Kill him? And what of Ellana? The better option was to construct a graceful exit from this mess with her at his side. But how?
"I beg to differ, Tiny," Varric said, still trying to get the Tal-Vashoth to cast an opinion that didn't involve a flip of a coin. "A cousin of mine had a girl a few years back and I had a wager with her husband about it. He wanted a boy but I just felt it in my gut it'd be a girl, and it was. You got to trust your instincts on things like this."
Iron Bull made a noise of displeasure in his throat. "I've heard Orlesians yap about being able to tell by the way a woman carries, but I just don't get it. Maybe that's because we don't have mothers under the Qun, I don't know. A coin toss makes as much sense as seeing the way her belly looks to me."
"Yeah, but it's not as much fun," Varric insisted. "And the Orlesians are full of crap."
"Just let him toss the coin already," Dorian complained, scoffing. "Besides, even if Orlesians weren't spouting dribble on a near constant basis it still wouldn't help because Ellana isn't going to show for months. Maybe never."
"Does Boss have a wager?" Iron Bull asked.
"No," Varric said, laughing. "And neither does Solas."
Hearing his name, Solas' head lifted slightly before he stopped himself from looking back at them. He refused to validate their behavior, especially with the current topic. He didn't allow his own mind to wander in that direction even privately.
"It's their instinct I'd bet on," Iron Bull said, amusement deepening his voice. "No offence, Varric."
"None taken, but you know I'm going to be right. Just ask Sparkler." Varric laughed heartily. "I think you still owe me money from a bet before we defeated Corypheus."
Dorian scoffed. "Nonsense. You little liar." He clucked his tongue then and said, "What we really should be betting on is whether it'll be a mage. Fifty royals says it will be. Care to take that wager, Varric?"
Varric laughed. "Are you kidding me? Not a chance."
"Why not?" Dorian asked.
"Because that's like betting I'll have a dream tonight. Everyone knows the answer already. Sparkler, you're not even trying. You just want fifty royals."
Dorian guffawed. "Of course I do! But it's not a foregone conclusion. Have you forgotten I'm Tevinter? The Imperium has been trying to understand magical inheritance for millennia without success. Even with careful breeding, such as in my family, magical talent can be fickle."
Unfortunately this was true, even in Elvhenan. Within Solas' small middle class community he'd grown up alongside children who'd been born with less magical talent than their parents. They and their families lived with the perpetual fear that soon a noble would sweep through and discover they'd been born to the wrong class. Whenever that happened the noble claimed the child like chattel, as if Elvhen children were just another tithe due to the upper class. Solas himself had lived with that same fear, though for the opposite reason. Talented children were conscripted to join the upper class and Solas wanted no part of it even from a young age.
Dorian spoke again a second later and Solas could hear the smug smile and bristled with dislike. "My family lucked out with me, of course. In the magic department, anyway."
Finally at the limit of his patience, and unwilling to let the memories and despair of the library settle onto him any further, Solas straightened from his position leaning his against a bookcase and strode toward the others. "Let us go back to Halamshiral," he said, his voice firm and authoritative. "We can return to the Crossroads tomorrow for the final push to stop the Qunari. We have everything needed to activate the eluvian leading to the Qunari base."
The mages and scouts shuffled to their feet, though several of them groaned, drained from the battle with the Qunari and irritable at Solas' leadership, no doubt. Iron Bull and Varric had no complaints, but Dorian as usual glared venomously. Annoyingly, Dorian insisted on walking with Solas or just behind him, a less than subtle reminder that he still felt he shared power and leadership.
As they exited the eluvian and reentered the Crossroads, Solas lingered by the mirror. He took a headcount as each person passed through the mirror and when the last one came through he stepped in front of the eluvian and raised one hand to it. The warm rush of magic flowed through him, heating his blood with its familiar, sensual caress. He shaped it with willpower alone and channeled it through his hand and into the mirror. The eluvian thrummed, glowing brighter for a second before it faded and went dark.
He sensed rather than saw Dorian lunge for him and, without even looking first, sent a precise veilstrike at the other mage, knocking him flat to the stone of the island in the blink of an eye. Dorian let out a cry of surprise and Solas heard the satisfying thump of his body smashing into the rock as he pivoted to survey the scene.
"Whoa!" Varric shouted, lifting his hands in a placating gesture and stepping forward as if to break up a fight. "Chuckles, Sparkler—let's not get into another shit show. This island isn't big enough for it."
"You bastard," Dorian growled, hauling himself up to his feet and dusting himself off. "What do you think you're doing, turning it off? Vishante kaffas," he cursed, snarling at Solas and jabbing a finger in accusation. "And where did you learn that particular trick? Another wandering hobo in the Free Marches happen to teach you how to shut off eluvians?" He scoffed derisively. "Or I suppose you saw it in the Fade."
Solas glared at him, cold and somber. "I learned it from Abelas and Mythal's sentinels." He thrust out his chin. "A better question is why are you trying to attack me?"
"You know why," Dorian snapped, his nose wrinkling with rage. "Don't insult my intelligence pretending otherwise…" He curled his lips with disgust.
"Dorian," Iron Bull said, his voice deep, carrying a note of concern. "Just leave it."
Solas covertly checked the reactions from the Inquisition mages and scouts, finding them schooling their expressions but still unable to hide their open hostility toward him. They all understood why Dorian had reacted with such fury—they didn't know how to reactivate the eluvian and with it dark they'd never be able to access the library and its secrets. Solas had outmaneuvered them and they all knew it. Their only hope was to disguise their disappointment, hoping to hide how little they trusted Solas. Unfortunately for them Solas already knew.
"Fine," Dorian growled. His brown eyes promised retribution and Solas wanted to sigh with annoyance at the Tevinter's temper tantrum.
"If you're finished I'd like to get back to Halamshiral," Solas said, stolid and unruffled.
"Sounds good to me," Varric said, his smile tight. "But if you two are going to start fighting again can you give me a little advance notice? I'd like to charge admission."
"Don't be ridiculous," Dorian said, glaring at both Varric and Solas a final moment before turning his back and striding to the edge of the island to stare out into the Crossroads.
Taking that as his cue, Solas marched toward the scouts and mages from the Inquisition and gestured toward the rock bridge. "Let's be on our way."
They followed the rock bridges, discharging the stored magic in the orbs as the Qunari had to traverse the gaps, and returned to the Halamshiral eluvian without trouble. Solas' thoughts churned, planning and considering various strategies for the inevitable confrontation that was certain to come soon between himself and Ellana's advisors and companions. Varric and Iron Bull and Rainier, who'd joined their expedition yesterday, seemed not to care much about who and what Solas really was, but that could change as they learned more. It was Cassandra and Dorian who posed the greatest threat as they were already convinced he was Fen'Harel and had betrayed them.
He turned his thoughts to Ellana. He had to protect her and their child from the maelstrom to come, and the best way to do that was to outplay them in the Game. The answer that had repeatedly leapt into his mind was that he needed another emotional sleight of hand to make the humans doubt and hesitate—much the way he'd let himself bleed after Dorian punched him. He had the ideal distraction in mind: a marriage proposal. But doing it as part of the Game made him feel queasy with shame. It'd also be an insult to Ellana if she saw it as disingenuous.
Inside the winter palace again he separated from the others, leaving Dorian to report to Leliana and Cullen on their success routing Qunari from the shattered library. He knew they'd want to exclude him anyway as Dorian would report Solas shutting down the eluvian without consulting anyone, placing them in a tough position. They'd have to seek Solas' knowledge directly about how to turn the mirror on again or experiment on their own. Either way, Solas was content to let them flounder about while he returned to Ellana for the evening to make plans of their own.
As Divine Victoria ended the summit for the day Ellana got to her feet and bid the politicians, Cassandra, and Josephine goodbye. The day had been hot and humid again, not as bad as the previous few afternoons, but Ellana still longed for a bath to cleanse the sticky sweat from her body and ease the tension from her muscles. Striding out of the pavilion she saw the usual variety of Orlesian palace guards and Inquisition scouts—and Dorian, leaning against the opposite wall of the corridor.
When his eyes met hers he immediately started toward her and the stiffness of his tread and the hunched set of his shoulders made her stomach clench. Whatever had brought Dorian to her now, it couldn't be good. Before she could stop herself, Ellana frowned at him and when he was within earshot she asked, "You didn't hit Solas again, did you?"
"No," he replied, his brow furrowing and his gaze angry. "But I damn well wanted to." He glanced around, seeing the masked guards and Inquisition personnel all pretending not to have any interest in their conversation and sighed. "Perhaps we might speak somewhere privately?"
Despite the growing knot in her stomach, Ellana nodded and forced herself to smile. "Of course."
She led him away from the pavilion and down the hall to the study that'd been reserved for her and her advisors to use as needed. Inside she let Dorian through first and closed the door behind them. When she turned round she saw Dorian strolling through the room, searching for eavesdroppers with his hands elevated slightly, as if about to cast. "Dorian?" she asked. "What's wrong?"
"Just being thorough," he said with a cluck of his tongue. "I learned back home that you can never be too careful. There's always some filth ready to spy for coin."
Ellana moved to stand in front of the table, waiting as patiently as she could with the knot inside her twisting on itself, nauseating her now. Finally Dorian seemed satisfied with his pass around the room and joined her at the table, standing to her right in what was usually Cullen's position. He fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing his arms and shifting from side to side.
"What's going on?" she asked.
Dorian scowled, averting his gaze from hers. "I wanted to warn you."
She blinked. "Warn me? About what? Solas?"
"Yes," he said, his unhappy look deepening. "But not in the way you think."
Wary and cautious, Ellana took a step backward. She shook her head. "If this is about that ridiculous theory of yours that Solas is some kind of god—"
"No, no," Dorian interrupted her, waving a hand dismissively. "Well, yes, actually. But I already know you won't listen to me." He sniffed and the anger leeched out of his face as he paled, meeting her eye again. "The truth is I can't stand Solas. I don't know what or who he really is, but I know it can't be good. Anyone who hid this much for this long is cunning enough to use all of us. And I think that's exactly what he's been doing—but to you most of all." He shook his head. "I'd like to be wrong about him, but I'm never wrong about this sort of thing. Still…"
"Solas isn't using me," Ellana said, unable to keep herself from springing to his defense.
Dorian's brown eyes narrowed. "I take it you know something more than the rest of us about him? A sort of lovers' special insight? I hope you do, though I am disappointed you wouldn't at least tell me."
Ellana tapped one finger on the table to her left, eyes closed as she struggled to school her reaction and find an appropriate response. "I appreciate your concern, Dorian," she started, still unable to meet his stare. "But I trust Solas and you all should too. We all have things in our past we aren't proud of. Solas is no different and I respect his desire to maintain privacy."
"There's maintaining privacy, Ellana, and then there's aiding ancient beings aspiring to godhood." His lips twisted in a snarl at the last word. "Just because this particular being isn't from Tevinter I—"
Ellana cut him off with a groan. "Please, Dorian. Not this again."
"Fine," he snapped, sullen at her terseness. "I just wanted to warn you that the others have started considering more…extreme methods of handling him. Cassandra in particular is most irritable."
"Extreme how?" Ellana asked, edging closer again, arms crossed over her chest. "Is he in danger?" She suddenly felt her eyes burning hot with emotion and closed them, sucking in a shaky breath. "I cannot believe I have to ask that. Have you all really forgotten that Solas is on our side?"
Dorian snorted. "Is he? From here I'm not so sure, and I worry for you." His expression softened. "That's why I wanted to warn you. Not for him, but for you…and, ah…" He smirked and motioned at her lower body. "The little one. My father wasn't exactly ideal, what with blood magic and all that rubbish, but I'm glad I knew him. Your child should have the same, even if its father is an unspeakable ass."
"Dorian," Ellana scolded, shifting from side to side a moment and then letting out a breath to calm herself before asking, "What danger is Solas in?"
Dorian's jaw clenched, a muscle feathering in his temple a second before he answered, "Divine Victoria is considering calling for his arrest as an apostate."
"She wants to force him into a Circle?" Ellana asked, her body flushing cold at the news. This was what Solas had predicted. Ellana had just hoped he was wrong.
"Mostly she just wants to get the truth from him and get him away from you," Dorian admitted. "I protested when it became clear they would consider charging you with crimes as well to prevent you interfering. So they threw me out of the meeting as a sympathizer."
Ellana flinched, a painful lump growing in her throat. "How could they betray me like this?" she whispered.
"They believe you will not see reason because of your feelings for him. And, of course, your condition." He shook his head, his eyes soft with sympathy but his lips pinched in a hard line. "If it makes you feel any better, old girl, they were torn up about it and they repeatedly told me any charges against you would be dismissed. They only want to keep you away long enough to get the truth from him. To be honest I don't really believe they'd do more than threaten to put him in a Circle."
Hands clenching at her sides, Ellana growled out, "I can't believe this."
"You want my advice?" Dorian asked, arching one sculpted eyebrow. "Order Solas to leave the summit. Have him retire. Didn't Varric give you an estate in Kirkwall? Or have him join your clan. Whatever you like. You're expecting and I assume he's at least pretending to have accepted that, yes? He'd better be. Anyway—take advantage of that to get him away from Divine Victoria and the eluvians. If he'll let go of all that…" Dorian sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Then I'd admit I've been wrong about him and I suspect the others will as well."
"Or they'll just arrest him on the road," Ellana said, snarling the words. Her limbs felt shaky, her skin flushed with hot fury.
"Possibly," Dorian admitted, shrugging. "But my money's on the others choosing caution. They don't want to arrest him. They don't want to move against him because it insults you. They want to trust you. I want to trust you."
"Then trust me," Ellana retorted, glaring.
"I do," Dorian shot back, his cheeks burning red. "That's why I'm here warning you. Come clean if you know something, or send him away and see if he'll obey." His expression and voice took on a pleading tone. "Give it some thought, yes?"
She nodded somberly, then, glad of the excuse her pregnancy provided, she laid a hand over her abdomen and said, "If you'll excuse me, I'm feeling a bit tired."
"Yes," Dorian murmured, smiling slightly now. "I imagine it's terribly hard work constructing another person, especially one that's half-Solas." He chuckled at her sour look. "No wonder you've been so sickly lately."
She sighed, rolling her eyes as she started walking for the door. "Very funny." Her mind buzzed with alarm as she entered the hallway, though she tried to keep her face from showing it. Walking at a brisk pace, Ellana headed straight for the guest wing and her bedchambers, hoping to find Solas there as she had for the last two days.
"We expected this, vhenan," Solas said when he'd heard Ellana's story of Dorian warning her of the danger to himself. The mixture of anger and pain he saw contorting her beautiful features set his own chest aching hollowly, though he'd already predicted this. "I wish it were otherwise, but the moment I entered the eluvian on that first day after we arrived I knew this moment would come."
He didn't add that Dorian's warning was an unexpected and thoughtful detail, one he hadn't anticipated. It was to Ellana's credit that Dorian cared enough to make the effort, despite despising Solas. As for Cassandra, Solas knew the former Seeker turned Divine would always seek justice and duty first and foremost. Ellana saw Cassandra's part in it as personal betrayal, but Solas knew it was a last resort for her. Had Solas not been Ellana's lover Cassandra would've long since arrested him for interrogation. As her past conflict with Varric demonstrated, she hated being misled. Solas had offended her sense of justice, of right and wrong. Of course she would try to find the truth, and Solas respected her for it. What else could she do as Divine and as a former Seeker but follow her conscience?
As for Leliana and Cullen—Solas suspected Josephine was too thoroughly distracted with the Exalted Council to be actively involved—their concerns were about security within the Inquisition. Already Solas' Inquisition spies had started telling him they'd been assigned menial work or guard duties exclusively, and their human compatriots had grown increasingly tightlipped. Solas' spies also reported that all elves seemed to be experiencing the same treatment. Patrols, guard rotations, and even sleeping and break room areas had become racially-divided. The Inquisition was fast transforming into a racially charged barrel full of gaatlok, just waiting for a spark to set it off.
"Then what do we do?" Ellana asked, her voice miserable with grief. She reclined on their enormous bed while Solas sat at her writing desk several meters away. Dinner had arrived on a tray along with tea. The tray was on the foot of the bed, hardly touched despite Solas' frequent suggestions that she eat more.
"Dorian's suggestion that I retire is not a bad one," he said with a slight nod of his head. "Unfortunately I cannot stop working within the Crossroads yet."
"But the Qunari will be beaten soon," Ellana protested, a note of pleading in her voice.
"And when they are gone my people will remain in the Crossroads," Solas told her, blank and to the point. "Even fragmented and shattered as they are, they're invaluable. I must maintain a presence there and restore the network."
"But do you have to be there personally?" she asked, a speculative look on her face.
He smiled at her, quashing the anxious squirming from Fen'Harel in the back of his mind. The wolf knew the danger and turmoil he'd cause for himself and his goals by doting on Ellana the way he longed to as lover and expectant father. He wanted to reassure her that he would be at her side throughout, but every day he was away or distracted they could lose ground in their fight to restore the world and the People. His network of sentinels and Elvhen warriors knew that only he could reshape the world, so if he wavered their hopes crashed into the abyss. He needed to compromise: Ellana would stay somewhere safe and he would split his time between her and his goals as Fen'Harel.
His tone cautious, he said, "I cannot afford to be away physically from my people or the Crossroads for long—but I will not leave you until I know you are safe. And I will visit as often as I—"
She interrupted him, "No."
Blinking, he shook his head as if he'd heard her wrong. "Excuse me?"
Ellana shot him a glare. "You are not leaving me in Kirkwall or with my clan while you vanish to risk your life for months on end." Chin trembling and eyes suddenly moist, she still somehow managed to look more angry than upset. "I'm going with you."
Grimacing, Solas huffed with frustration. "Vhenan, what you ask is impossible. More than that, it is foolish. You cannot—"
"Then it's a good thing I'm not asking," Ellana cut in. She sniffed, wiping at her eyes as she regained her composure without actually shedding a tear.
Solas glowered. "I will not allow you to harm yourself, vhenan. There will be ruins brimming with Elvhen magic that could destabilize the Anchor."
"You need me," she said, pinning him with her hard green-eyed stare.
Something in her tone made Solas hesitate with wariness. What did she know? Finally he said, "I need you healthy and safe, emma lath. There will come a time when your condition will slow you and hamper your movement."
"Not for months yet," she said with a dismissive gesture. "But until then I can help. You'll need the Anchor eventually, won't you? It was part of your orb. Can it do something I'm not aware of?"
Solas tilted his head to one side, like a dog hearing an intriguing word. He would require the Anchor to fulfill his plans eventually, and it had been one of his ongoing trouble spots. He'd expected to reclaim the Anchor as part of the orb originally, but then found Ellana had claimed it through chance. That had been one primary reason he joined the group at Haven, to keep an eye on the Anchor. At the time he'd hoped to claim it if Ellana died, knowing from the first time he examined her hand that the Anchor had adhered to her completely so that even if he had possessed his orb he wouldn't be able to remove it. He hadn't lied to Ellana when he told her he'd spent much of the last two years seeking a way to remove it from her. Primarily now he wanted to save her life, but he couldn't deny he also needed the Anchor for his own purposes.
"Well?" Ellana pressed, sitting up and scooting closer to the foot of the bed.
Explaining this aspect of his plan wasn't something he relished, but he'd promised not to lie to her and enough time had passed with him silent that she'd guessed his reluctance. So he went for honesty and evasion, hoping to explain in more detail later.
"I will eventually require it, yes. But—"
"Then you need me," Ellana said, firm and confident. "Let me help you." He didn't miss the way her left hand in her lap flexed, as if eager to be put to the test. "You need to walk physically in the Fade again, don't you?"
"Yes," he admitted, but didn't elaborate even under the weight of her keen-eyed stare. Instead he focused on dissuading her. "Using the Anchor will only destabilize it."
"I've used it for years, emma lath," she reminded him. "I think you're being overly cautious."
"Of course I am," Solas said, frowning as irritation lashed him with heat. "I have no desire to see the Anchor destabilize. If it does, it will cause you great pain and would ultimately kill you unless I took your arm. We have discussed this. The magic of the Crossroads and Elvhen ruins will destabilize the Anchor. It is only a matter of time. The more you use it, the sooner you'll lose control."
She turned her head, sighing. Her shoulders sagged as if an invisible weight settled on her shoulders. "We're off track," she murmured. "There are more pressing concerns at the moment." Her left hand opened and closed again in her lap and the seemingly idle motion told Solas she hadn't forgotten it and hadn't let it go.
"Indeed," he agreed with a nod. "I propose we continue as before. The Inquisition's forces will make short work of the Qunari Dragon's Breath. As soon as it has been dealt with you must disband the Inquisition and retire as Inquisitor."
Ellana's brow furrowed. "But then Cassandra will have you arrested as an apostate."
"She may try, yes," Solas admitted with a little frown as he considered proposing to her again. Dorian was right that it was the proper action for him to take considering her pregnancy and it could cast legitimate doubt on their suspicions about his identity. Fen'Harel was unlikely to retire from covert life as an elven spymaster in favor of domestication. Even humans with minimal knowledge of Dalish legends would see that as uncharacteristic of a trickster god.
He licked his lips, about to suggest it to her and then pushed it aside as an insult. She deserved better. How could she ever know he hadn't been pressured into it in the hopes of misleading their companions? So instead he said, "I am not afraid of Divine Victoria's wrath. She cares too much for you to be a true threat to me. But if I am apprehended you must not endanger yourself by fighting them overmuch. Let me be questioned while you feign innocence and outrage. Do not reveal my identity no matter how they bluster."
"You won't tell them who you are?" Ellana asked, shooting him a nervous look.
He shook his head. "No, as I have said, it would imperil my plans if they knew the truth and they would never support bringing down the Veil, even if doing so did not bring chaos to the world they know." Rising to his feet, he crossed to the bed and held onto the bedpost. An anxious pang shot through his chest at her doubtful expression, but he pressed on anyway. "Before you disband the Inquisition you must publically order me to retire from the eluvian network, vhenan. You must be suspicious of me and angry when I seem to resist. I will then publically capitulate to your authority as Inquisitor."
Ellana smirked. "In public only, of course." She shook her head, the humor leaving her face. "They won't believe any of it. They'll know you're playing the Game."
"They may," Solas said with a somber nod. Heat crept over his cheeks, burning him as he considered again suggesting marriage and once more dismissed it. Clearing his throat, he murmured, "I intend to travel with you and Varric to Kirkwall—or to your clan, if you wish. If we are followed by spies it will prove a boring journey for them as I will not leave you."
"I'll need to write to my clan to let them know first and I doubt they'd get my letter and be able to answer before we have to leave. So that means Kirkwall. The journey will take weeks," Ellana said, making a face that was both hopeful and unhappy at once. "Can Abelas and the others spare you that long?"
With an effort he kept himself from wincing with his own hesitations at the absence and nodded. "I have been away that long before. Of course I will have to leave again before winter."
Now Ellana's lips twisted with sorrow while her eyes narrowed, darkening with anger as she laid a hand over her abdomen, immediately drawing Solas' gaze to the little motion. "If you miss the birth I'm going to name him after Dorian."
Flabbergasted, Solas stared at her with his mouth partly agape a moment before his brow furrowed. "You cannot be serious, vhenan."
"I am completely serious," she said, her expression hard and unyielding except for the small quiver of her lips. "Dorian's a good name and it will be fitting punishment for you."
Solas shook his head, blinking a few times as her earlier words registered with him anew, but from a different angle. "Him?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. The memory of Varric, Dorian, and Iron Bull bickering about the sex of his child returned again but now he didn't feel the same tension and irritation, only the pulse of excitement and the warm press of love swelling in his chest. "You believe our child is a boy?"
The twitch in her lips gave way to a grin that lit her eyes and made his heart pound suddenly with desire. "My brother had a daughter. It feels right that I should give the clan a son."
Before Solas could stop himself he blurted, "Not the clan."
She tilted her head, shooting him a wary glance, uncertain of his meaning. "What?"
"I'm sorry," Solas murmured, dropping his gaze to the bed and the barely touched food tray. "That was rude of me." The possessive heat still roiled inside him, hitching up his breathing rate. He tried to tamp it down as he struggled to explain himself. "I understand you see our child as belonging to clan Lavellan, but—forgive me—my first instinct was to…" He shook his head, frustration making him sigh and opt for bluntness. Lifting his eyes to search her green ones, he said, "Our child is ours, vhenan. It is Elvhen first. It is…mine."
Ellana stared at him a few heartbeats and then her lips curled in a smile. "Then I expect you to be there when he's born." Then, with a bit of annoyance, she added, "And there's no way you're going to keep him from meeting my clan."
"No, of course he will meet your clan, but…." Solas broke off, suddenly chuckling. "Now you've made me start calling our child him."
"You disapprove?" she asked, her voice tight.
"No," he murmured, contemplating it. "My concern is that we not forget that we do not truly know. Our child, and every child, deserves to be received by parents who will adore it without preconceptions and restrictions. In Elvhenan I saw far too many children with shattered confidence because they failed their families' expectations."
She scooted over the bed and shuffled toward him on her knees. Solas reached out to support her, embracing her and inhaling deeply. She smelled of ginger and lavender, one from her stomach calming tea and the other from the bath. "Boy or girl, mage or not, I'll love our child because it is ours. Ours first, as you said. My love is unconditional, emma lath, for both of you."
Smiling, Solas kissed her, and in the back of his mind made the decision to propose to her—but only once they'd escaped Halamshiral and the intrigue of the Game. She deserved to know he'd chosen to commit to her and the promise of their fledgling family because he wanted it, not because it might protect his alter ego as Fen'Harel.
Next Chapter:
Clamping her mouth shut, Cassandra's eyes dropped to the floor as she sighed. "Then we have nothing further to say to each other—but I did this for you as much as for our security. I will always be your friend, and part of that is knowing when another has lost her way. Your feelings for Solas have allowed you to be blind to his—"
"Yes," Ellana growled, jabbing a finger in Cassandra's direction. "My feelings have allowed me to accept Solas for who and what he really is, not who I wish him to be, while you and the others only see him as a nefarious knife-eared apostate. If he were human you would not care."
Cassandra frowned. "And what is he exactly, Inquisitor?"