A/N: I use several elven phrases in this chapter that I wrangled out of the official DA Elven Language wiki, rather than the FenxShiral Project Elvhen because I hadn't explored it at the time of writing this. I did begin using it later, but I'll start giving FenxShiral credit now in advance. In case anyone's wondering, "Ne Nadas Him Revas" as best as I can tell means "You must be(come) free." Oh, and Random Rockets, thank you for the review!
Thirteen
Ne Nadas Him Revas
"The Inquisition had no right to banish the Wardens from Orlais," the Orlesian ambassador said, his nasally voice grating against Ellana's ears. "The order provides an invaluable service during times of Blight. Without the Wardens Orlais and all of Thedas are in danger."
Josephine cast Ellana a sidelong look, no doubt checking to see if she wanted to reply. Subtly, Ellana moved her head and flicked a finger, indicating Josephine should speak. The hot afternoon and her anxious thoughts about Solas had left Ellana fighting a losing battle with her touchy stomach. She kept her other hand over her queasy belly, as if she could comfort herself with the touch. Josephine had been keeping a worried, watchful eye on her and encouraging her to drink the tea they'd supplied. It wasn't working, to the point that even the ginger tea had been refusing to play nicely.
Seeing Cassandra in her ridiculous Divine robes wasn't helping, either. At least the other woman seemed unable to meet her stare for more than an instant.
"We understand the danger," Josephine answered. "But as there is no sign of Blight at this time it was clear the Wardens presented a far greater threat as potential pawns of Corypheus."
"But Corypheus has been dead two years," Arl Teagan snapped, his weasel-like face contorting with derision. "The Wardens must be recalled at once."
And suddenly bile was in Ellana's throat. She shot upright, her chair squawking as it scraped the floor of the pavilion. With her hand clasped over her mouth, Ellana bolted for the short stairs leading to the enclosed gardens around the pavilion. The small crowd of nobility and visitors seated behind the panel where Ellana and Josephine sat for the summit gasped and broke out in whispers.
"What is the meaning of this?" Arl Teagan demanded.
Ellana reached the end of the stairs and bent over, retching at the base of a decorative bush. Heaving several times and spitting stomach acids and bile, she finally groaned with relief as the nausea abated for the moment. Now she needed some mint and water to rinse the putrid taste from her mouth. That thought reminded her immediately that Solas wouldn't be waiting for her in her bedchambers tonight. Her chest tightened, aching with worry and fear.
"I must apologize," Josephine said, sounding flustered. "The Inquisitor has been unwell."
"I am concerned for the Inquisitor's health," Cassandra said. "I suggest we adjourn for the rest of the day to give her time to recover."
Creators take you, Cassandra, Ellana thought and scowled, remembering there were no Creators. She spat again into the bush. Then, wiping at her mouth, she squared her shoulders and marched up the short stairs into the pavilion again. The nobles and others in the small audience gawked. Masked ladies in their finery cringed from her and whispered to husbands or friends behind fluttering fans. Their hissed words were all variations of the same rumor and Ellana's ears were too sharp to miss it.
"…with child, for sure."
At the panel she offered the ambassadors and Cassandra a little bow. "Please excuse me. I'm afraid I'm unable to continue at this time."
"Perhaps we should resume the Exalted Council in about nine months?" Arl Teagan asked, sneering.
Josephine was watching her, brown eyes pleading: Deflect, distraction, and humor!
"I hardly think it will take me that long to wash the taste of vomit from my mouth, ambassador. We can resume tomorrow," she said, turning on her heel and striding for the exit. Though she kept her head up and shoulders back, Ellana knew by the smirking looks the audience sent her way that she wasn't fooling anyone.
Outside the pavilion she found an elven Inquisition scout and ordered him to bring her to the winter palace's cellblock to see Solas. He nodded obediently and as Ellana took in the shape of his face—elongated and with particularly narrow, pronounced ears—she wondered if this was one of Solas' spies. She followed the scout through the palace's narrow corridors and grand halls until they left the gilded sections behind and passed into passageways that were tighter and made of gray stone. Eventually they reached a set of broad double doors made of rough-hewn wood. Two human guards stood watch, their armor and masks declaring them Orlesian.
"Inquisitor Lavellan wishes entrance," the scout announced her.
The men nodded and one of them unlatched the doors, letting Ellana and the scout through. At least the Orlesians still respect my authority, Ellana thought to herself. She rooted through her formalwear to find the pouch of mint and ginger Solas had given her a few days ago. She popped a mint leaf into her mouth and chewed to try and get rid of the vile taste of vomit.
They passed through another dank, poorly lit passageway and descended a stairwell to a lower level, guarded this time by Templars. These guards glared at her but didn't stop them. At the bottom of the stairs another Templar, a woman this time, did step into their path. "Halt," she commanded, her armor clanking. "State your business."
"Inquisitor Lavellan wishes to see her Fade expert," the scout answered for her. Ellana didn't miss the hint of anger in the man's voice.
The Templar woman nodded, her eyes flying from the scout to Ellana. "If you'll follow me, your worship." She motioned at the scout. "You stay here."
"Yes," the scout said, nodding and obedient though Ellana saw his lips quirk downward with displeasure. Definitely one of Solas' spies, she thought.
The Templar escorted her deeper into the cellblock. The air took on a faintly moldy smell and Ellana cringed at it, grimacing as her stomach churned again with nausea. Soon the guard brought her to a cell with an iron-wrought gate over the narrow door. Two Templars stood watch on either side of the entrance. Pretending to have no interest in her as she moved close to the bars.
"Solas?" she called, squinting and unable to see him. The cell had a narrow entrance, with a dogleg just an arm's length beyond the gate, meaning the opposite corner and much of the far wall were obscured. It was likely an isolation tactic as well as a way to make escape more difficult. With the dogleg and the narrow entrance the Templars could quickly block the entrance with their bodies, preventing escape.
She heard a rustling from inside the cell and then the clank of metallic armor. She frowned as she saw another Templar guard inside the cell move into the entrance, blocking it. "You may speak to the prisoner, but he is not allowed to move to the bars."
Ellana's jaw fell open a moment and then her hands clenched into fists. She gripped the bars and cursed at the guard, "Get out of the way! How dare you…"
"Vhenan," Solas' voice came from just around the corner, out of sight. "Please, you must not worry yourself needlessly. I am well."
The sound of his smooth voice, heavy with what sounded like sadness, threatened to break her. She made a little choking sound, involuntarily inhaling as the mixture of anxiety and rage strangled her with burning hands. Her eyes stung with tears but she fought them back. "Are you soon to be released?"
He chuckled, humorless and somber. "No. Leliana has told me I must submit blood to a phylactery, so that these Templars may be able to chase me to the ends of Thedas if they wish. I will never agree to such a blatant restriction on my freedom."
Ellana's hands on the bars tightened until she could feel her tendons stretching to the point of pain. She snarled at the Templar in the entryway, baring her teeth and gritting them. "Shem bastards," she growled.
"Leliana may yet see reason," Solas told her, but she couldn't miss the doubt in his tone. "But they have already threatened to coerce me into a Circle, or suggested the Rite of Tranquility." Now she heard the anger deepening his voice and felt her own fury ignite at it.
Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against the cold iron bars. "Ne nadas him revas." You must be free.
The guard grumbled, "Speak in Common."
Ellana ignored the guard's warning, her body shaking with the force of her conviction, her mind spinning. He'd told her he could escape at any time, that he had no fear of being forced into a Circle…but her chest ached and it was hard to breathe imagining him enduring here for days, weeks, or months. If he would not expose his power then she would have to take action.
"Vhenan," he replied, his voice sounding strangled. There was a soft rustling sound and footsteps over the stone and then he appeared behind the Templar, his eyes dark and glinting in the dimness. "Venavis." Stop.
Another Templar from inside the cell—they had two guards on him in there, Ellana realized—growled, "Are you two deaf? Common only."
"Ar nadas lasa mala revas," Ellana said, raising her voice with defiance. I must give you your freedom.
The Templar to Ellana's left shifted and slapped the iron bars with his armored hand right beside her head, making the gate rattle and clatter. She gasped, startled and jumping before glaring at him. The Templar said, "Last warning. No elven nonsense."
"Patience," Solas said to her, the soothing velvet of his voice making her throat tighten and her chest ache with love. His expression was twisted, lips parted and eyes narrowed with emotion. "Visit me again tonight before you sleep." He paused, lips pinching into a hard line. "They will not allow me to dream."
"Fenedhis," she cursed, glaring at the Templar.
"Dareth'shiral, vhenan," Solas murmured, smiling sadly.
She licked her lips, about to tell him she loved him, when the Templar inside the cell with Solas lashed out, knocking the elven mage backward into the wall. "You were warned, you knife-eared bastard."
"Solas," Ellana shouted, shaking the bars of his cell. She could just see Solas' face, his lips curled in a snarl of rage as the Templar moved to stand in the doorway, his back to his companion as yet another barrier between their prisoner and Ellana. "Damn you—he was just saying goodbye!"
"We warned you," the guard to her left snarled. "No elven rubbish." He reached for her, his armored hands rough and bruising. Ellana fought, letting out a cry and twisting. Defiant with fury, she spat, "Ar u na'lin emma assan, shemlen." I will see your blood on my arrow.
The Templar was stronger than her, easily twisting her arm. Pain streaked through her as he pivoted her away from the cell, intent on dragging her from it. Ellana gnashed her teeth together and let out a strangled cry, still trying to fight even as the world spun with vertigo. "Stop resisting," the Templar behind her ordered.
And then the world seemed to explode as all of her senses came alive so fast she couldn't process it all. From the cell behind her she heard the popping thump of a Veilstrike and the clatter of Templar armor smashing into the stone. Then another noise cut through the air, making the iron gate rattle. Ellana's skin prickled, waves of heat radiating through her. Her left hand burned with the sudden cutting pain of the Anchor flaring to life and she hissed through her teeth at it.
The guards both started to shout, their footsteps pounding on the stone, but Ellana couldn't process the words before another wave of dizziness made her stumble and collapse. Pins and needles raced over her flesh and her stomach clenched. A crackling sound echoed through the corridor—and then heavy silence fell.
Blinking and cradling her glowing left hand, Ellana twisted her neck to look behind her and gasped. The Templar who'd grabbed her had been petrified in mid-motion, his shield raised as he'd turned to face the cell. The other Templar guard, also a statue now, stood in front of the cell, his sword and shield both raised.
Breathing hard and shallow with shock, Ellana rose to her feet and stumbled backward, eyes wide. Distantly she heard voices calling, footsteps thumping on stone. "Solas?" she called, her voice trembling.
A light tread crunched on the floor and a heartbeat later her lover emerged with a look that was both furious and despairing at once. "Vhenan," he said. "Ir abelas. I…lost my temper when he hurt you." His gaze flew to her hand and the anger fled, his brow furrowing with misery. "The Anchor reacted."
"How did you—what did you…" She broke off, shaking her head and groaning. "You were utterly serious when you said there was no Circle that could hold you." She stared at the Templars turned to statues, the iron cell door that'd been blasted from its hinges. She felt her knees go weak.
"We have no time for explanations, vhenan," Solas said, his face warping with tension. "We must be gone. They're coming."
She was lightheaded, her hand fiery with pain from the Anchor. Glancing down the hallway, she saw the shadows of the approaching Templars. "There's only one way—"
Solas lunged for her, wrapping his arms around her. Ellana yelped with surprise and had a moment to see five Templars and the Inquisition scout who'd escorted her here round the corner. Then the world went black and her skin came alive again, pulses of prickling heat tearing through her. It was both pleasure and pain, making her cry out. Her body seemed to suddenly be weightless, floating—and then falling.
Light exploded in her eyes a second later as a mist made of pinpricks of purple light vanished with a hiss. Her knees gave out and she gagged, falling forward—but strong arms held her around the waist and shoulders, propping her upright. She coughed, trying to catch her breath and blinking moisture from her eyes as the world gradually made sense again.
She was in a brightly lit bedchamber—her bedchambers inside the palace. "How…?"
"I'm sorry, vhenan," Solas murmured into her ear. "My actions have condemned us both. We must flee through the eluvian."
Her knees shook again she tried to place her full weight on them. Solas' arms kept her from falling, his breath warm on her neck and hair. Clinging to him, she shook, cold with shock. "I think I might retch."
"Breathe deeply," he instructed her, his voice soft with tenderness. "Empty your mind. Focus on reality and on my voice."
Sucking in a breath, Ellana stared at the bedspread and the nightstand where a pitcher of water and a washbasin waited. Thinking of the water gave her strength with the distraction. "I need a drink."
"I doubt alcohol will help, vhenan."
"Of water," she clarified, her voice hoarse.
"Of course," he said, nuzzling her ear and then half-guiding, half-carrying her to the bed. He eased her onto it and poured water from the pitcher into a small cup and handed it to her. She accepted it without meeting his gaze, but her hand shook so badly the water sloshed out. Solas took the water back from her and brought the cup to her lips like a mother tending a child. She closed her eyes as she sipped, letting the cool, crisp taste ground her.
"Ir abelas," he apologized again, whispering. "This is my fault. I did not think. My reaction was excessive and you're suffering for my foolishness."
When he removed the cup from her lips, Ellana sighed, some of the tension easing as the pins and needles sensation faded. The water had calmed her in mind and body, letting a bit of her strength return. She flexed her left hand, feeling the pain of the Anchor diminishing though it continued glowing. "What happened?"
Solas' eyes were somber, his expression heavy with something akin to shame. "Your body cannot conduct magic with the Veil in place, but like all of the People you remain sensitive to it. I cast more magic in that hallway than what we used to close the Breach at Haven." He smiled, small and sheepish. "I…overreacted, to my shame."
"They were no match at all," she murmured, searching his face and shivering with a mixture of awe and horror. One of the Evanuris. He'd told her that of course, but hearing it and seeing it on display were entirely different things. Her stomach clenched thinking about it and she groaned.
Solas returned the cup to the nightstand and knelt in front of the bed, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "We cannot linger here, vhenan. We must leave—and there may be more fighting." He swallowed audibly, his expression grave and sad. "I will try to shield you, but we cannot delay. Can you walk?"
Clenching her jaw, Ellana nodded even though she wasn't sure she was being truthful. Her limbs felt heavy and shaky. "I'll try."
Solas nodded. "I will gather our things." He sprang into action, hurrying around the room and grabbing his pack and her armor. "Dress, quickly," he told her as he passed the Dalish scout armor to her. "They will have already begun searching and by now I suspect there is no doubt as to my identity."
Rising onto her shaking legs, Ellana began to shed her formalwear. "I can't leave the summit," she murmured, dazed. "I'm Inquisitor. How will—"
"They will no longer care about your rank, vhenan. They will assume you had a part in my escape. I left no witnesses in my foolishness who might defend you."
"The Inquisition scout who led me to you," Ellana said, swaying as she stepped out of her formalwear boots. "He was elven. I think he was one of your spies."
"What did he look like?" Solas asked. He had not paused in his flurry of activity, moving from dressers to the bed to the privy, grabbing food from a tray the servants had brought in for lunch.
"Long face, narrow ears, blue-green eyes and blond hair," she answered as she shimmied into her chainmail. "No vallaslin."
"Var," Solas said, pausing where he'd placed his pack to look at her and nod. "And yes, he is one of mine." He cinched the pack closed and slung it over his shoulders, then crossed the room to collect their weapons.
Ellana secured her chainmail in place and slipped into the armored surcoat. She fastened the belts as fast as she could, stopping only when Solas approached with her bow and her arrow quiver. She eyed his staff as she took her own weapons. "You don't need a staff," she murmured. It wasn't a question.
"Most mages do not require one," he told her, smiling slightly. "In Elvhenan most did not bother with them." His blue eyes swept over her, tender with worry. "Are you ready?"
She slung her bow and the quiver over her shoulder and took a deep, shuddering breath. "As ready as I can be, emma lath."
His gaze dropped to her left hand, still faintly glowing green. He frowned and muttered a curse under his breath. "Fenedhis. I did not think." He covered his face with one hand. "Now I have left us no choice but to risk exposing you to further Elvhen magic through the eluvians."
"It will be fine," Ellana said, her voice firm even as her chest constricted, cold with trepidation. "But we must hurry before they find us."
"Yes," he agreed, a muscle in his jaw feathering as his expression hardened with determination. "Stay close, vhenan."
They left the bedchamber and trotted through the guest wing hallway. Servants gawked, sidestepping and yelping as they struggled not to drop the trays of food or used dishware they carried. The Inquisition and Orlesian guards stared with confusion and mild alarm etched on their faces as Solas led the way through the door. Ellana made an effort to nod at them and feign a smile as she followed. This relaxed both sets of guards.
They made their way without resistance through the gilded corridors and past numerous guards and Inquisition scouts. But Ellana didn't miss the way the human scouts cast suspicious or confused frowns at them while the elves merely nodded in acknowledgement. How many spies had Solas had in the Inquisition's ranks anyway?
When they reached the hall where the storage room with the eluvian waited Solas slowed and raised a hand for her to stop. Heart pounding and muscles still quivering from the recent shock and exertion, Ellana panted. She drew out her bow, anticipating trouble. "What is it?"
"Do you hear them?" he asked, arching a brow.
Ellana strained her ears and immediately heard the voices and tread of men ahead. Her chest tightened, making it harder to breathe. "Oh no."
"Stay behind me and I will get us through."
"Don't kill them," Ellana blurted, gripping his bicep. "Please." The accents she heard sounded Ferelden as well as Orlesian, which likely meant some of them were Inquisition.
Solas nodded to her, his gaze somber. As she released him, Solas' shoulders hunched and he darted around the corner in the white blur of a Fade-step. Ellana rushed after him, grabbing an arrow and nocking it as she rounded the corner. Ahead in the hallway a group of six guards—two Orlesians masked and armored and four Inquisition soldiers—turned to regard them with wide eyes. They raised their weapons, shouting, but Solas gestured and the slick pop-bang of a Veilstrike strike echoed through the hallway.
Ellana flinched at the sound but felt none of the force hit her, though her left hand seized with a spurt of pain. She ignored it, keeping her left hand still tightly clasped to her bow. She ran forward as she saw the soldiers and guards collapse in a unanimous thump. They gasped and cried out, shocked and stunned.
I'm sorry, Ellana thought at them as she darted through them, picking each step carefully to avoid stepping on any of them.
Solas flung open the door to the storage room and ushered her through it. The eluvian thrummed, glowing blue. Ellana ran straight into it without hesitation and felt the chilled, ancient magic wash over her.
Solas saw the mirror ripple as Ellana passed through it. Behind him the guards and soldiers clambered to their feet, scrambling for their weapons and shields. Solas backed toward the eluvian, his lip curled in a snarl as he took in the six humans. Doubtless Leliana had reacted to his jailbreak by sending humans to the storage room, anticipating this was where he'd go. But would they follow him into the Crossroads?
He could switch the eluvian off after passing through it, but Leliana had told him there were Inquisition forces raiding the Qunari base. Deactivating the eluvian would leave those people stranded in the Crossroads with no way to return to Halamshiral. He had another option—casting a barrier of spirit flames. That would deter anyone from the palace following he and Ellana, but someone emerging from the Crossroads would step out into the fire and perish. Both options posed risks but Solas could mitigate them from the Crossroads.
"Do not try to follow us," he shouted at them and then sprang through the mirror after Ellana.
On the other side, as the chill of the eluvian's magic passed over him and dissipated, Solas whipped back to the mirror and thrust his palm up to it. His own magic flowed warm and comforting through his blood and the mirror thrummed in response and fell dark. The song of the Crossroads filled his ears, competing with the pounding of his heart. He surveyed the Halamshiral island, smiling as he saw Ellana standing in the shadow of the rocky overhang, her arms wrapped over herself.
"Are you well?" he asked her, stepping closer.
"A little overwhelmed," she admitted and let out a dry laugh. Her green eyes skipped over him and then landed on the mirror, now dark. "You deactivated it?"
He nodded. "I could not risk us being followed."
"But Leliana told me this morning she'd sent Dorian and a small contingent of mages and soldiers to the Qunari base." Ellana looked around, squinting against the unnatural light, which always looked like a late afternoon sunset, but fractured into pinks and greens. "Where is the eluvian leading to the Qunari base?"
It just had to be Dorian trapped on this other side of the eluvian. Solas let out a little huff of irritation before motioning to the small spit of rock that led to another mirror opposite the Halamshiral mirror. The eluvian there was bright, clearly active.
"I believe the Qunari set this eluvian here deliberately for faster travel. Once the gaatlok barrels exploded at the height of the Exalted Council they could then move their troops in through the mirrors, straight from their base." He paused, allowing himself to smirk. "I will alter the mirror's destination once I know the Qunari base has been eliminated."
She shook her head, her arms still wrapped around her torso, as if cold. "Should we go after Dorian and the others at the base?"
"No," he replied immediately with a frown. "The Anchor has been exposed to enough magic for one day. I will not risk endangering you further."
"But they'll be stranded here," she said, brow furrowing.
"Then it is a simple matter of waiting for them to return from the base," Solas said, smiling to reassure her. This was the best solution to the problem that he could conceive of on multiple levels. Dorian and the Inquisition forces with him would naturally be upset to find the eluvian to Halamshiral inactive and Solas waiting for them like a spider in a web, but they had little choice at this point. He could reactivate the eluvian and send them through, then shut it off again. Better still, Solas could reclaim any interesting magical artifacts they carried with them…except that their close proximity could prove dangerous to Ellana.
"You'll reactivate the eluvian and let them through?" she asked, filling in the blanks for herself as he'd known she would.
"Yes, of course. I have no desire to see them trapped and we are reasonably safe here—assuming no Qunari emerge through the eluvian." He walked closer to her, his feet crunching over the grit on the black stone of the island, and gestured to an alcove tucked away to the left of the mirror. There was a skeleton and some decayed detritus from what might have been a backpack or other supplies. He didn't miss Ellana's brief look of disgust.
"Sadly the Crossroads are not what they once were," he murmured, smiling wanly. He stared out at the rest of the island, at the rough-hewn rock and the waterfall spilling from Andrastian statues with a splatter into the void. "It was once a place of great beauty. I wish you could have seen it as it was."
Ellana leaned against the rock and then gradually slid down it, landing with a plop. She sighed, her head hanging and shoulders slouching. "I never had a chance to eat lunch."
"Then you are in luck, vhenan. I anticipated this." Solas shrugged out of his pack and strode to sit next to her. Opening the pack he pulled out a pale silk handkerchief containing several cubes of cheese and passed it to her.
An almost shy smile curled her lips as she accepted the cheese. "Aren't you hungry?"
He shook his head. "I was fed by my jailors." To avoid meeting her eyes and hearing the unsaid words hanging between them—that he'd killed those aforementioned jailors—Solas rooted through his pack and pulled out another swatch of silk. Unwrapping it revealed a neat loaf of white bread. He set it on the silk square on the rock in front of them for her to grab at her leisure.
"Is the water here safe to drink?" she asked, staring at the waterfall.
Solas followed her gaze and nodded. "Yes. It is summoned by magic, drawn directly from the Fade itself."
At her sidelong look Solas cocked his head. "Vhenan?"
She smiled slightly, her eyes dark with turmoil. "I'm wondering what will happen without me. What Leliana and Cullen and Cassandra and everyone will say." She let out a shuddering breath as tears filled her eyes.
Pain laced through Solas and he winced, reminded that her exile here with him had not been voluntary. She'd not questioned it much or resisted, seeing the logic in his concerns, but if she hadn't Solas would have refused to allow her to remain at the palace. Now that he had revealed his own hand by foolishly losing his temper with the Templars and killing them in such a bizarre way Ellana would not be considered innocent. She would no longer be the Inquisitor, but would be a pawn to be used against him. If Solas had left her behind Ellana would quickly find herself trapped in a cell while Inquisition forces tried to track him down using her as bait.
"Ir abelas," he whispered again, eyes closing with shame. Heat licked at his cheeks. "You deserve better than to be caught up in this mess. The fault is mine."
"It's all right," she murmured, her smile soft and tender now. "I was ready to march on that cell myself and break you out, remember?"
He did remember. The sound of her voice speaking elven had been like a caress, a balm for a burn. But he hadn't wanted to cause this difficulty for her. He'd learned through long experience that subtlety was always the most rewarding way to achieve one's goals. Leading from the shadows, manipulating from the background had always been his specialty.
Chuckling under his breath, he reached over and caressed her cheek. "Ar lath ma, vhenan."
"Ar lath ma," she agreed, clasping his hand with her own. "Bellanaris." She scooted closer and Solas wrapped an arm around her shoulders, letting her lean against him.
They spent several minutes in companionable silence, the song of the waterfall and the endless groan of the Crossroads filling their ears. Ellana popped cheese cubes in her mouth and ate hunks of bread for a time and then sighed, getting to her feet and walking to cup her hands beneath the waterfall for a drink. Solas watched her graceful shape, admiring the curve of her legs and hips in her armor and wondering how much magic she would have when the Veil came down…
And their child, how much of his power would it inherit?
As she made her way back to him, her bare feet gripping the black stone rock with each step, Solas cleared his throat and said, "I could never tell you before, vhenan, but you sometimes remind me of Ghilan'nain."
Ellana halted, staring at him with a bemused expression. "What do you mean?"
He chuckled. "I mean that Ghilan'nain was a graceful hunter who preferred a bow, like you. She was clever and cunning and beautiful."
"Wasn't she a mage?" Ellana asked, frowning with confusion.
"Of course," Solas answered with a nod. "Magic can aid with the use of a bow, or a blade as well. This world has forgotten the wonders and limitless uses of magic." He paused, sighing as he remembered. "Ghilan'nain should have been like Mythal, but she did not have the strength of character to stand against any of the others. She was as gentle as the halla who now represent her to your people. In that respect you are a far stronger, wiser leader."
Ellana flashed a crooked smile at him, her green eyes mischievous. "Solas, if I didn't know better I'd say it sounds like you admired her."
He scowled, old irritation lashing him at the memory of the other Evanuris. "I despised them for claiming godhood, but they were each individuals. Some were worse than others. Ghilan'nain was younger even than I, but Andruil discovered her before Mythal found me. Ghilan'nain was Andruil's closest companion." He chuckled, the sound dry. "And her lover."
Crossing to sit at his side again, Ellana snuggled into him and sighed. Solas wound his arm around her again, stroking her shoulder and arm.
"So," she said, her voice quiet. "Tell me a true story of Elvhenan. Are there any stories my people got right?"
He sighed, resting his head against the cool, black rock behind him. What could he tell her that wasn't upsetting? Even in trying to compliment her by comparing her grace and beauty to Ghilan'nain he'd found himself reminded of the so-called goddess's faults. She'd been vain and insecure, easily cowed by the likes of Andruil and Elgar'nan.
"What would you like to know?" he asked, hoping she'd narrow the subject somewhat.
"Are any of the tales of Fen'Harel accurate at all?" she asked, a playful note in her voice. "I seem to recall one where Andruil caught the Dread Wolf hunting halla and tied him to a tree."
"Ah," he murmured and chuckled. "Yes. That one is true."
"Andruil caught you?" Ellana asked. "Was she more powerful than you?"
Solas frowned to himself. "Merely better trained at the time. I was quite young. I was in the wilds, seeking out the Forgotten Ones."
"The Forgotten Ones," she breathed and shivered. "Were they demons like the Chantry's Forbidden Ones? Like Imshael?"
"More powerful, vhenan," he answered. "Forgive me, I'd prefer not to discuss them now."
She made a motion against his chest, a sort of acknowledging nod, and returned to their previous subject. "So, Andruil caught you believing you were hunting halla?"
"I was hunting them," he answered, smiling. "I hadn't eaten meat in days and I'd been living luxuriously in Arlathan's court for a few years by then. I was very hungry. And yes, before you ask about it, Andruil did indeed devise a rather…unorthodox punishment for my transgressions."
"A year and a day of servitude in her bed?" Ellana asked, and laughed. "That seems quite tame considering other tales of Andruil I've heard."
Solas didn't answer for a few moments, considering the nuances Ellana couldn't possibly know and whether he should reveal them. Andruil had little interest in men, generally preferring female lovers. But at the time he'd been introduced to the court Andruil and Ghilan'nain had been trying for decades to convince one of the other Evanuris men to father a child on one of them in the hope that they could produce a child of equal strength to themselves.
Even the Evanuris could not escape the rigid classism of Elvhenan, based as it was on magical talent. Elgar'nan and Mythal had had many children, but only one ever came close to their power—Dirthamen. The other children were all nobles but could never claim the mantle of godhood and their names fell away into obscurity. It didn't help either that Elgar'nan paid his less-talented children no attention at all and discouraged Mythal from associating with them as well.
Even as a newcomer to court, Solas understood Andruil and Ghilan'nain's designs on him and had no intention of giving either what they wanted. So Andruil's punishment for his supposed crime had all been a poorly laid out ruse.
He decided not to divulge this underlying complication and instead caressed Ellana's neck, feeling her shiver at his touch. "Andruil knew I did not care for her and that I opposed slavery. Her punishment was more appropriately cruel than you realize."
"I had cousins who used to like that story because they wished they were tied to that tree. Except they would not have tricked their way out of the punishment." She was silent a moment but when she spoke again her voice held the darkness of doubt in it. "Solas, if you bring down the Veil, won't you set the Evanuris free again?"
Solas let out a small breath, his fingers stilling on her smooth skin. Always clever, vhenan. "Yes."
She sat up, looking him in the eye, her gaze narrowing with concentration. "I don't understand. You want to set them free?"
Raising his head from the reclined position against the rock, Solas frowned. "No, vhenan. They are…not as they once were. And even if they were unchanged, they would not rest until they had revenged themselves upon me. I do not wish to restore a world that will revert back to Elvhenan and its class system, corrupted by slavery and suffering. I tried to change Elvhenan from within as one of them for centuries, but the others undermined me. The slaves I freed they'd reclaim as their own. Nobles serving the other Evanuris would encroach onto my lands, their warriors would burn my people's crops and—"
"You had lands? You had people?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "Officially?"
He stared at her, blinking as he realized she still knew so little of his past life in Elvhenan. Slowly, he nodded. "I was given Falon'din's lands and people after he was bound for causing a civil war." He scowled. "The arrogant, bloodthirsty fool."
She licked her lips and started to say, "You mentioned something about that when we were in the Temple of Mythal. What—"
They both froze, eyes widening as they heard an eluvian thrumming. Ellana scrambled to her feet and jogged toward the spit of rock leading to the Qunari base mirror. Solas lingered behind a moment, collecting and wrapping the food, replacing it in his pack. Then, grabbing his staff, he moved after Ellana. Already he heard voices and the tramp of feet over the black stone.
And then Dorian's voice rang out, "Vishante kaffas, Ellana! What are you doing here, darling?"
Solas bristled at the nickname and emerged from the shadow of the island's rocky overhang. Dorian's gaze immediately flew to him and his lips drew back in a vicious snarl. "Shouldn't you be in a cell?" His brown eyes seemed to take in the dark Halamshiral mirror then and his mouth fell open a second before his glare swung back to Solas, accusatory and enraged. "What is the meaning of this, you filth?!"
Next Chapter
Dorian's expression turned somber, his lips pinching and his brow furrowing. "Ellana, if you're feeling trapped because you don't want your child to be fatherless…" His hands tightened slightly on her shoulders. "I could take you in. I've weathered worse scandals and I doubt anyone would believe it could be my child anyway, even if it is a mage those ears will just—"
Ellana burst out laughing, shaking her head. "That's very sweet of you, Dorian, but Solas would probably leap into the void before he'd let you take me to Tevinter."