A/N: As I said last chapter, we've moved into a new plot arc that will begin in earnest now. Elven Revolution! Also important for this chapter...remember the Prologue and Solas' gift of the enchanted Stormheart arrowhead that Ellana wore as a necklace? Yeah. Keep that in mind because you're going to get a laugh that will involve Solas humiliation...sort of.

Fifteen

Romancing the Dalish

The Dalish clan had set up their aravels in a clearing about an hour's walk away from Solas' encampment—Hellathen Hamin, as he'd called it. The sight of the aravels and the halla made Ellana's heart beat faster, joy and nostalgia warming her from the inside out. The faint scent of their campfire carried a rich, sharp scent as the hearth keeper burned ceremonial herbs. The smell sent Ellana's mind tumbling back to her childhood as she recognized it: a good luck charm to bless the area the clan had settled in.

The high summer grasses in the meadow were golden, dipping with the weight of maturing seeds in their heads. From her spot at the edge of the meadow Ellana could see three girls stooped among the grasses, examining the grass stalks and then plucking the ripest seeds. Their high, fluting voices were cheery and carefree with youth. Ellana knew if she were closer she'd see their faces were bare. These girls had not yet become fully-fledged members of the clan.

"You miss this life, vhenan," Solas murmured beside her, his voice soft. They stood in the shadow of thick pine trees and other brush, crouched low to avoid startling or alerting the clan in the meadow far beyond. Abelas and two of his other sentinels waited just a few meters away.

"It's a beautiful life, when the land is generous," she answered, smiling. She closed her eyes. "I do not regret leaving my clan, though." Glancing at him, she reached over the small gap between them and gripped his bicep. "Are you sure about this?"

One corner of his lips turned upward. "I would not attempt it without you acting as my ambassador."

"How many clans have you visited since you've been awake?" Ellana asked.

"A handful," he answered. "But I spent a great deal of my time in uthenera watching the People." His lips pursed as his expression soured. "I tried to guide them, but most had little interest in my advice if they discerned my identity."

"But we have Abelas now," Ellana said, trying to reassure herself as much as him.

Hearing his name, the sentinel cleared his throat. "We await your command, Fen'Harel."

Solas' blue eyes slid to Abelas and he dipped his head in a nod. "Very well." His attention returned to Ellana. "I will not appear until summoned. For your safety do not wander deeply into their encampment." He let out a breath, brow furrowing. "I will be unable to speak while maintaining the shape-shifting spell." He held a rolled wolf skin headdress from his pack clutched in his left hand and Ellana knew it was a backup option to allow him to mask his face while still personifying the guise of Fen'Harel.

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Good," Solas said and shifted, unrolling the headdress. Blue tinted light flowed over the fur as he touched it and the flat, lifeless skin seemed to grow in size. The triangular ears perked up and the fur fluffed. Solas pulled the headdress over himself, the upper jaw with its toothy maw shadowing his entire face except for his chin and lips. He motioned to her and Abelas. "Ghilas," he said. Go.

Ellana led the way, stepping nimbly through the brush and into the clearing. In her scout armor and equipped with her bow and arrow quiver she would easily pass as one of them, minus her bare face. Yet, as with her own clan, Ellana knew they'd recognize her as an outsider with astonishing quickness because they knew everyone in their small community instantly on sight.

One of the girls raised her head and saw her first, her mouth opening to call out and then freezing like a halla at the scent of a wolf. She drew the other girls' attention to Ellana and all three of them sprang to their feet and trotted toward the aravels, calling for the clan's Keeper and war leader. Across the clearing voices shouted as those in camp came to attention.

Abelas and the sentinel elves followed Ellana as she walked casually through the grass and stopped halfway between the nearest aravel and the tree line to wait for the Keeper to come out and meet with them. As a middle-aged woman appeared in the garb of a Dalish mage and started toward them with two warriors and three young hunters behind her, Ellana called out in greeting. "Andaran atish'an."

"Andaran atish'an, da'len," the Keeper answered when they were closer. Her brown eyes swept over Ellana and the sentinels, her expression vaguely wary until she spotted Abelas and the hares slung over his shoulder. "Abelas of the Arbor Wilds. I know you."

"Lethallan," Abelas replied, though he should have called her hahren. Stepping forward, he motioned with one hand to Ellana. "This is Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan."

"Inquisitor?" one of the warriors behind the Keeper asked, his mouth falling open. "The one who closed the Breach in the sky?"

Ellana grinned. "Guilty as charged."

The Keeper eyed her speculatively. "We came across some human merchants some months back who told us of the Breach in the sky and that a daughter of the People led the human Inquisition that returned the world to order." She hesitated, her voice mildly incredulous. "You are this woman, da'len?"

"I am, yes," Ellana replied, chuckling. "I am surprised word has spread this far. These lands are rich and remote. I did not expect my name to carry any weight."

"Where are your vallaslin?" one of the hunters asked, frowning.

Ellana stared at the hunter a moment, drawing in a deep breath. "I had them removed when I learned their original purpose was to mark the wearers as slaves."

They stared at her, eyes wide and shocked. Then the Keeper scowled and shook her head. "You are mistaken, da'len. The vallaslin honor the Creators and protect us from evil. They have always been with us." She gestured to Abelas and the sentinel elves. "Look upon your companions. If what you say is true surely—"

"Abelas and his sentinels are servants of Mythal. They bear their vallaslin as a mark of that devotion. I…" She felt her throat threaten to close as she saw the irritated look the Keeper flashed her for the interruption. Her heart pounded and she felt sweat gathering in the small of her back. How could she expect this clan to accept what she had to say?

"We have come with an offer," Abelas continued for her when she fell silent, cowed by her own doubts. He shifted, extending the two hares he'd caught in snares set the previous night. "A gift for your clan, lethallan. We ask only that you listen in peace to our proposal and if you choose to turn us away we will leave in that same peace. We will shed no blood."

The Keeper, her warriors, and the hunters had all tensed. Ellana saw their hands gripping weapons but they made no move to draw them. The Keeper nodded slowly and reached out to accept the hares from Abelas. "Mythal bless you," she thanked him and then chuckled as she felt over the soft fur. "Although I must admit your request sets me ill at ease."

Ellana picked up where Abelas left off. "What we are about to tell you—to show you, hahren—will shock you, I fear." Dropping her gaze to the gently swaying grass between their two groups, she chuckled sheepishly. "I know it stunned me to learn the truth about vallaslin, but what I must tell you next will be worse." Squaring her shoulders, Ellana raised her eyes back to the Keeper. "Abelas has told me your clan was visited by Mythal in dreams and that she wanted you to join our cause. We have come to tell you of that cause—but you should know Mythal is not the Creator who walks among us."

"But I have seen her in the beyond," the Keeper insisted, shaking her head. "My First has also heard her whispers. A few of the others and the children wake with the same tale though they cannot remember their dreams as I and my First do."

"And what did Mythal say to you in these dreams?" Abelas asked, his voice deep and somber, yet also urgent. Ellana checked his reaction and saw the passion in his face, the devotion making him fierce.

"She whispered that the People's time to fight is at hand. She told me that I must ensure my clan is strong and prepared for what is to come and that when her champion emerged I must follow him." She stared at Abelas, something like awe glinting in her eyes. "Are you not Mythal's champion?"

"I am merely a representative of her champion," Abelas said and Ellana restrained the frown that tried to twist her lips. Had she heard a twinge of bitterness in his voice?

"Then who…?" the Keeper asked, her expression warping with confusion and loss. She turned her probing gaze to Ellana. "Inquisitor? But you are a woman and Mythal named her champion a man."

Before Ellana could answer Abelas said, "Your people have forgotten much of the past, lethallan. Mythal was not sealed away with the Creators. She was murdered in body, leaving her spirit as the one who spoke with you in the beyond."

The Keeper stared at them, stunned and speechless. The young warrior who'd spoken up earlier said, "But that's impossible. Mythal is a goddess."

"Mythal was an ageless mortal," Ellana explained. "The other Evanuris turned on her, killing her."

"How can you know this, da'len?" the Keeper asked, breathless.

"I have met her vessel," Ellana explained. "Two years ago, when I visited Mythal's temple in the Arbor Wilds. I also met Abelas there. It was Mythal's wisdom that allowed us to defeat the darkspawn magister who tore open the Breach in the sky."

Now anger twisted the Keeper's face and confusion clouded the warriors and hunters behind her. "If Mythal walks among the People, why do our prayers go unanswered? Where was she when the humans broke their promise and took the Dales from us?"

Shifting with discomfort at the topic, Ellana watched the grasses wafting in the gentle breeze again. "I asked her that myself, hahren. But the truth is she is no goddess and it is only her soul that walks among the People inside a human body." She heard the elves in front of her gasp with dismay and licked her lips, hurrying to reassure them, her gaze leaping between each of them. "I know this is difficult to accept. I know it is a shock and goes against everything you have been taught and cherished about our gods. But I am of clan Lavellan. I am one of the People and I have seen these things with my own eyes. As difficult as they are, I know them to be true."

The Keeper let out a wavering breath, her arms crossing over her chest. "I believe that you believe, da'len. But I hope you understand that I have not seen these things myself so I cannot help but be skeptical."

Ellana smiled, nodding. "Of course, hahren. I was skeptical too. But Abelas and his people are of Elvhenan and they are direct witnesses." Her stomach and chest tightened as if gripped by invisible fists, knowing what she must say next would be the hardest. "Mythal's champion is also a survivor of Elvhenan. He is—"

"Where is Mythal's champion?" the Keeper interrupted, her brow furrowing. She and the elves behind her scanned the clearing, apparently anticipating or sensing that Ellana, Abelas, and the other sentinels with them had not come alone.

"Mythal has allied with Fen'Harel. He is the champion she spoke of," Abelas said, blank and to the point, apparently tiring of Ellana's more delicate approach. Ellana shot him an irritated look as the Dalish elves gawked in shock at his words—and then bristled and tensed.

"You lie," the Keeper spat at Abelas, her face blanching. "Creators' mercy. This is a trick of Fen'Harel's devising."

"No," Abelas and Ellana said simultaneously, but she fell silent, letting him explain. "Your people's legends are wrong about Fen'Harel. He was Mythal's ally in Elvhenan."

"Our ancestors warred among themselves," Ellana said, her voice tight with desperation. "The Evanuris enslaved thousands, marking them with vallaslin." Heart pounding, she edged closer, willing the Keeper to understand. "The vallaslin were blood magic, hahren. The slaves had no control over their lives. The Evanuris ruled with more cruelty than the Imperium. Fen'Harel fought to free them, and he locked away the Evanuris as punishment when they killed Mythal. Now he has returned to fight for the People again, hahren. You must believe me."

The warrior who'd first recognized Ellana stepped forward to stand beside his Keeper, his face set with grim determination. "I believe you, Inquisitor."

"Hevis," the Keeper rebuked, hissing between her teeth.

The young man, Hevis, frowned at her chastisement but didn't break eye contact. "I have not dreamed of Mythal—or if I have, I cannot recall it. But I do believe in you, Inquisitor. If you vouch for whoever claims the mantle of Dread Wolf, then I will follow."

"I will not allow it," the Keeper said, her voice breathy and her face flushing red.

"Please," Ellana begged. "Will you not even meet him?"

The Keeper eyed her obliquely, a muscle in her jaw fluttering. Ellana felt sweat on her back, making her underthings sticky and damp. Long seconds passed with no sound but the gentle sigh of the trees around the clearing. Far beyond the Keeper Ellana saw other hunters and hearthkeepers, mothers and children and elderly standing beside their campfire or near grazing halla, watchful and alert for danger.

Finally the Keeper sighed. "I have never dreamt before as I did when Mythal visited me in the beyond." She shook her head. "I felt the power of her command in my heart and now I understand her warning that I would not find what I learned easy to accept." A hard smile tugged at her lips. "If you swear to me Fen'Harel has not come here to shed blood, I will meet with him."

"I will swear by my clan, hahren," Ellana said, the words heavy and somber. "By my mother and my brother who yet live. I will speak no different words to my own Keeper someday when we go to them."

"I have already sworn my life to Mythal," Abelas said, stiff and formal. "But I can assure you the Dread Wolf is not as you remember him and will shed no blood this day unless you and your clan attack first. We bring gifts and ask only for words and take nothing you will not willingly give."

The Keeper nodded, her smile softening slightly. "Then I will speak with him."

Ellana pivoted to face the tree line behind them and raised her left hand to signal Solas. She felt the weight of the Dalish elves' eyes on her, both those close to her and the ones watching from camp. A chill passed through her as a shadow in the trees moved, peeling away from the greater darkness of the forest. Slowly a gray-black wolf as large as a horse emerged, one step at a time into the sunlight of the clearing. The Keeper cursed under her breath behind Ellana and cries of alarm issued from the camp.

"It is Fen'Harel," the Keeper whispered, her voice strained with horror. "The Dread Wolf himself."

"You thought he would be a pretender," Abelas said with a note of amusement. "The Dread Wolf was determined to ensure you knew he and his power are real."

"But the legends of our people are wrong," Ellana reiterated emphatically. "He is no monster and wishes you no harm." She shivered again at the sight of the wolf at the edge of the clearing, though it stood motionless now, ears erect and mouth closed—a posture of neutrality.

"You serve the Dread Wolf?" the Keeper asked. Her eyes were wide, nostrils flaring with each breath like a frightened hare about to spring away.

"No," Ellana said, somber. "I follow the man."

"This beast is a man?" the Keeper asked, pointing a shaking finger at the distant wolf.

Rather than answer Ellana raised her left hand again to the wolf, signaling him to change shape. In a heartbeat the apparition of the enormous wolf evaporated into gray mist and then vanished entirely. Where the wolf's front legs and shoulders had been before a man now stood, lean despite the bulk of his robes and wolf headdress. At this less imposing figure the elves in the camp stopped their occasional calls of concern or entreaties to the gods for protection. The Keeper and her retinue visibly relaxed as well.

"Will you go to him?" Ellana asked the Keeper. "Will you hear his plans to save the People?"

Swallowing and with her face twisting with anxiety, the Keeper nodded. "I will listen."

Ellana smiled and looked to Abelas and his sentinels. "Then we will all go with you and speak a while, hahren."

The sun was setting by the time Solas led Ellana and the sentinels back to Hellathen Hamin. They walked with quick, light treads, and even the sentinels were quick to smile and laugh as they chattered amongst themselves. The clean, fresh air of the unspoiled wilderness tickled Solas' nose with pollen, reminding him of near-careless days in the distant past when he'd been a youth, wandering the wilderness and Fade. Now, although he had a great deal more to worry about, he found the trials to come didn't press on him as much as they had mere hours ago.

The Dalish clan had pledged to fight for him in the name of the People and restoring the world, despite their trepidation and their traditional view of Fen'Harel as a monster. Of course he had told them little of how he planned to achieve his goals, but with Ellana's help and Abelas there to represent Mythal they'd been able to see and hear the passion in him and judged him a worthy leader. He had not thought wild Dalish clans far from the pressure of the Imperium's slave trade would pledge to follow him. In fact, he was certain this clan would not have done so if not for Ellana's persuasive presence and Mythal's mysterious dream intervention.

Of all the questions hovering in Solas' mind, Mythal's connection was the least clear. What were her motives in this? Did they match his own? Would she reappear soon in a new vessel? If so, Solas anticipated trouble from Abelas and his sentinels. Already Lyris had complained that Abelas kept his own counsel and his elves were ever tightlipped and guarded around the arcane warriors. They fought together well enough and didn't bicker, but Lyris sensed the division and told him she worried it was growing. Adding Mythal to the situation would worsen things exponentially.

Yet that concern seemed distant too as he watched Ellana walk ahead of him, a new bag made of white halla skin flopping against her hip with each step. The clan's Keeper had given it to her as a gift and she beamed with joy and pride as she accepted it. The bag was for gathering and Ellana often darted from their path to pick edible fiddleheads, mushrooms, and berries. By the time they reached camp the halla skin bag was bulky with foraged goods.

He had never thought to employ Ellana as an ally in her own right for recruiting the Dalish, but now that it had worked once he felt confident it would work again. He could double the size of his forces with Dalish recruits and simultaneously change their minds about Fen'Harel. In time they'd sing new songs and tell their children that the day the Dread Wolf returned to the People was the start of a new and glorious age. The prospect brought victory closer, filling his blood with the heat of pride and satisfaction. And he owed it to Ellana. Longing for her awoke in him like a flash fire consuming dry leaves, but Solas buried it, knowing it'd have to wait until they were alone.

As night settled over the encampment both groups of elves sat in a circle around the campfire, eating from a pot of thick stew that one of the sentinels had prepared. Solas let the sentinels and Ellana detail their interaction with the Dalish for Lyris and Mathrel, taking the opportunity to observe everyone. He noted Abelas stayed quiet as well in his spot across the fire from Solas, though he often cast unreadable glances at Ellana.

But when the conversation changed to their next plan of action, a topic driven by Ellana, Solas stiffened with tension. Her green eyes probed at him, glinting in the orange-yellow light of the campfire as she asked, "How and when exactly will you remove the Veil?"

With all of them watching—Ellana, both arcane warriors, Abelas and the four other sentinel elves—Solas kept his face impassive. "There is a great deal of work yet to be done," he answered Ellana, vague and yet sensible enough that he hoped she wouldn't pry further. "I cannot be certain of how long it will take, but the world and the Fade must be made ready before I can remove the Veil."

"And that means what exactly?" Ellana asked, her smile crooked. "Tearing down the Veil will cause chaos worse than the Breach. I've seen a future like that at Redcliffe."

"Redcliffe?" Lyris asked, frowning.

"It's a human village in the Hinterlands," Ellana explained quickly. "A Tevinter magister named Alexius used time magic there while trying to kill me and accidentally sent me to a future where Corypheus had torn the Veil down almost completely." She shook her head, anger glinting in her eyes as she turned her gaze back on Solas. "There were rifts everywhere and demons attacked around every corner. The Breach took up the whole sky and red lyrium was growing everywhere. Is that the chaos you'll cause taking the Veil down?"

Familiar with her description and the events of Redcliffe, Solas clenched his jaw and hesitated. The other elves were unbothered by Ellana's story and as the silence stretched Solas saw her search their faces to find the answer he couldn't bring himself to utter aloud. Finally Solas said, "It would prove brief, vhe—Ellana."

Ellana cringed, repulsed. Her lips curled in a snarl as she said, "I fought Corypheus to prevent that future from happening. You fought to prevent that—or so I thought."

"I did fight Corypheus to prevent that," Solas replied, heat in his voice. "There was more at stake with Corypehus than you knew. Had the Veil failed entirely in that future you saw the Evanuris would have been freed."

Now she blinked, flinching as she made the connection.

Solas should have felt satisfaction or vindication at her reaction, but instead he just felt weary, as if heavy weights had been placed on his shoulders. "We will do all that is possible to save lives during the chaos until the world stabilizes. But initially there will be no way to avoid casualties."

She shook her head, her expression hardening with determination. "There must be another way." The firelight cast flickering, wild shadows over her features. "You promised me we would seek another way."

"I have not broken that promise," Solas answered, quiet and grim. "But I cannot sit idle and let the People die."

"But at what cost?" Ellana asked, choking on the words. "This world is not so ruined that it cannot be saved. Can you really be sure that tearing down the Veil won't make things worse again, permanently?" She sucked in a quavering breath. "And what of our friends? Dorian, Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen, Iron Bull, Varric—even Vivienne." Chuckling miserably, Ellana covered her face with both hands. "They don't deserve to die just because they aren't elven."

Mathrel grunted then from his spot beside Lyris to Ellana's right. "Humans, Qunari, dwarves. All of them are trespassers. Usurpers of Elvhenan's greatness. Leeches."

"Fenedhis," Ellana growled out, glowering at the warrior. "You're as bad as the humans."

Lyris clucked her tongue, scolding Mathrel. "Emma lath, dar'atisha."

The warrior scowled and apologized, his voice deep and gruff. "Ir abelas. But I am not some sniveling shemlen."

"Venavis," Solas admonished and then looked to Ellana at his side. "We can provide warning to Orlais, Ferelden, even Tevinter," he suggested. "We can provide aid and guidance as well."

"Assuming we even survive," Ellana shot back at him, baring her teeth in a savage grin. "You cannot promise that the People will even survive the coming chaos. You did not see the dark future in Redcliffe. I did."

"We will remain underground in warded safe holds," Abelas added, motioning with his hands. "In uthenera and stasis. We will survive."

Solas watched Ellana as she glared at Abelas, her face red with frustration even with the orange firelight painting it. Then Ellana scowled, staring into the fire as one hand rubbed at her navel absently. Solas knew what she'd be thinking with that gesture: What world will this leave for our child? Regret tightened its grip around Solas, but he swallowed the lump in his throat down, unwilling reveal his own doubt in front of the others.

Finally Ellana turned her head so that she met his stare. Her face was half lit by fire, half in the shadow. "I told the Keeper today that I follow you, Solas. I meant that." She let out a breath, her shoulders shaking with it. "There will be another way. I know it."

"Whatever comes the Veil must be destroyed," Solas said, firm and stoic despite the ache that seemed to be tightening in his chest. "Beyond that I promise I will do all within my power to save as many as possible."

She blinked and sniffed, her eyes too moist as she nodded. "Telanadas," she muttered under her breath and then rose abruptly to her feet. "I'm tired. I will see you all in the morning."

"Inquisitor," Abelas said, bidding her goodbye with a nod. Lyris and Mathrel and a few of the sentinels murmured similar goodbyes, polite and icy. Solas watched the fire, the tongues of orange licking at the charred logs on their hearth. He listened to Ellana's steps retreating away to the tent they'd shared together the night before. The victory during the day with the Dalish clan seemed faraway now, as distant as the cold starlight overhead.

Tomorrow he expected Zevanni would arrive with the foci and once Abelas, the warriors, and all the sentinels had seen it their excitement and eagerness would only intensify. Meanwhile Ellana's trepidation and doubt would grow. Unless Solas could find another way to restore the People that somehow did not destroy the rest of Thedas he risked driving her away. The idea left him cold and numb with dread—like his own namesake.

Abelas and the sentinels peeled away from the campfire, returning to watch duties or going to their tents to slumber for the night. Solas remained at the fire, his staff resting against his shoulder and his face twisted in a mild frown. To his right he heard Mathrel and Lyris speaking in hushed tones but paid them no mind until he heard Lyris call his name.

"Fen'Harel?"

He raised his head, meeting her eye. "Lyris?" he asked, finding the energy to smile somehow.

"Will you walk with me that we might speak?" she asked. Her eyes twinkled in the firelight. Beside her Mathrel stared into the flames, his arms crossed over his chest and his features creased with an expression that made him look like he might have a stomachache. Solas had known Mathrel long enough to know he was sulking, disapproving of whatever his partner was up to.

"Of course," Solas answered and got to his feet. He walked from the light of the campfire and wove his way through the tents to the edge of the ruined courtyard. Beneath the statue of the left Dread Wolf statue near the crumbling stairs, Solas stopped and regarded Lyris. "What is it?"

Her hands went to her hips, her armor clinking with the movement. "How far along is she?"

Solas cocked his head, like a dog trying to puzzle out an unfamiliar word. "Pardon?"

Lyris rapped her fingers against her belt, making a tapping noise. "Ellana is with child. Do not try and deny it. I've seen the way she lays her hand over herself. And this morning she was as green as a toad before you insisted she eat something." She let out a short laugh. "Not to mention how thirsty she is, constantly."

Frowning as he felt heat creep into his cheeks, Solas said, "This is not a topic for discussion."

Lyris scoffed at him. "Did you really think you could hide it? From me?" Anger formed a little crease above her nose.

If anyone was to see Ellana's condition so soon Solas had always known it would be Lyris, though he still wouldn't have expected it to be this quickly. He didn't know the personal histories of any of Abelas' sentinels, but Lyris and Mathrel had been parents before uthenera. They'd served Ghilan'nain in Elvhenan, but when Lyris fell pregnant they became bond partners, husband and wife. They raised a daughter together and had hoped to have her join their ranks as another arcane warrior. But their daughter grew into a Dreamer, just strong enough to be taken for the upper class.

Ghilan'nain had discretion over the decision and had been unmoved by Lyris and Mathrel's pleading that their daughter not be taken from them. Solas, who happened to be at court at the time, had overheard Lyris petitioning Ghilan'nain and viciously disagreed with the other Evanuris' decision. And that had been when Mathrel and Lyris left Ghilan'nain to serve Solas instead. They could not keep their daughter as Ghilan'nain's nobility claimed the girl, but they wholeheartedly embraced Solas' rebellion and the change it represented.

Solas had always known Lyris' goal for the world post-Veil had been to restart her family, to be a mother again. She would not have more children until she knew they could be raised in a world that would not rip them from her arms. Unfortunately she'd woken with Solas and Mathrel to find the modern world repressive and unacceptable.

"I have not tried to hide anything," Solas murmured, adopting a gentler tone than before. "I merely did not see any need to discuss her condition."

Now Lyris grinned. "So she is with child." Laughing, she shook her head, shooting him a sidelong look that made Solas frown all over again. "I didn't realize you intended on repopulating the restored world yourself."

Solas sighed. "Must we discuss this?"

Lyris crossed her arms over her chest, glowering at him. "I truly hope you're not this grouchy with her on the matter. She's a powerful ally for recruiting these shem-elf clans."

"You think I have not realized that?" Solas retorted, irritation clipping the words. He fidgeted with his coat sleeve to avoid looking at the warrior for a few moments as he wrestled with tumultuous emotions within him. The heat of humiliation at the personal topic and how swiftly Lyris had ferreted it out, along with the growing desire to confide in her how much Ellana's condition both thrilled and terrified him.

Lyris' expression was stony now. "You do not want a child."

Now Solas was the one to glare at her. "Of course I want my child," he spluttered, biting out the words. He drew in a breath, calming himself. "It is simply unexpected and the timing is unfortunate. I fear for their safety."

A slight smile tugged at one corner of her lips. "An accident then. And here I thought Fen'Harel planned everything."

Solas scoffed, feeling a blush heat his cheeks and spread all the way to his ear tips. He stared in the direction of camp, finding the tent he and Ellana shared and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Instinct and embarrassment made him want to deny Lyris' comment or scold her, but he quashed the reaction as unworthy of him. Instead he said, "The matter is private."

In truth he was still perplexed as to how it had happened. He had no doubt the child was his despite the rumormongering in the winter palace about Cullen, but he'd sensed the magic still inside Ellana's anklet charm. It should have been more than strong enough to prevent conception, yet clearly it had failed shortly after he returned to Skyhold. In the flurry of confessing his identity, fighting Qunari in the Crossroads, being arrested under Divine Victoria's orders, and now finding himself and Ellana effectively exiled, he'd naturally had little chance to consider how Ellana's charm had failed when it still held magic…

Unless some other magic had countered it.

And that was when he remembered the stormheart arrowhead he'd given to her, enchanted with his own magic. He'd meant for it to strengthen barriers around her cast by himself or other mages and to nullify hostile magic. Had he nullified the anti-conception anklet charm? The realization swept over him like a wave of hot water, making his head spin and then his skin burn with shame. How could he have been so foolish as to forget to check for conflicting enchantments and wards?

"It won't remain private," Lyris warned him, failing to see the shock of his internal realization as Solas stamped it out. "Everyone will know in only a few weeks." She reached for him, laying a hand on his forearm. "You cannot expect her to accompany you into the coming battles."

Chuckling dryly, Solas shook his head. "I have no desire to place her in danger. It is Ellana who refuses to see reason. I hope you are right in assuming I will be able to stop her short of tying her down."

Lyris smirked. "Well, you're in luck then. A baby will certainly tie her down." She sobered, her gaze heavy with sympathy. "I do not envy your position, Fen'Harel. She opposes our plans, yet is vital to them in more ways than I suspect she knows. Yet now her condition will make it impossible for her to enter uthenera or stasis, and a child cannot enter such a state either. You cannot delay and yet taking action will—"

"I do not need to be reminded of the challenge ahead," Solas cut her off with an impatient wave of his hand. Everything Lyris had said was true. Solas needed the Anchor to enter the Fade physically, so Ellana was a vital part of his plan's success and had been one aspect that'd held him back until now. With her on his side as a willing participant he could enter the Fade at will, but at the risk of destabilizing the Anchor and harming Ellana by bringing her to danger.

Lyris was also right about Ellana's condition preventing her from entering stasis or uthenera. The same was true for children. Anyone with a body rapidly growing or requiring more energy than minimal would perish in either state of being, no matter how much magic was used. She would have to remain awake as an attendant, protected behind the wards but vulnerable to starvation and thirst as food and water stores gradually ran out. If the Anchor destabilized while Solas was unconscious, or if their safe hold was breached in an attack, he'd have no way to protect her.

Putting these issues together meant Solas was trapped and no matter when he took action either Ellana or his child would be in danger…with the current plan, anyway.

The grim sympathy in her eyes hadn't faded despite his irritation with her. "Regardless, Fen'Harel…" Lyris paused, her brow furrowing. "Solas. You must support her, be kind to her. She told me she had to leave the Inquisition suddenly under less than ideal terms for your sake. She will need your reassurance doubly for her condition and recent events. She has gone very quickly from being a leader with a powerful force behind her to a subservient in a very different cause."

Solas nodded. "I understand, Lyris, and thank you."

"Don't thank me, Fen'Harel—just make sure you take it to heart," she said, her teeth bright against the dark as she grinned. "And congratulations. Fen'Harel enasal."

Solas shook his head. "There has been no triumph yet," he cautioned Lyris.

Immediately she frowned at his reply. Her voice was stern and sharp with reprimand as she said, "Every elven child is a triumph." As Solas stared at her, lips parted slightly with surprise, Lyris dipped her head in a little bow and excused herself, returning to Mathrel and the campfire.

Alone in the dark, Solas let his eyes rove up to the velvet black of the starry sky. Enasal, Lyris had said, referencing the triumph and joy one feels when overcoming adversity. Yet until the Veil came down, restoring both the People and the world, Solas knew he could not afford celebration and he could not allow his concern over Ellana and his unborn child to slow his progress. Every pureblooded elven child held value, ensuring the People continued on in this mortal world, but they had no future while the Veil remained.

Solas felt determination harden in his chest. He would provide that future for the People, for Ellana and his child and all pureblooded elven children born and unborn—even if it killed him. Even if the only way to do it meant killing the other races and in doing so drove Ellana away from him. How could he give anything less to her, his child, and the People?

The little voice of hope whispered in the back of his mind. Do not give up hope, there may yet be another way. He wished then that he believed in the Maker, that he might have someone or something greater than himself to beseech for an answer. But the stars and the enormity of creation spread out above and around him remained stoic and silent. He had no one but himself to solve this problem, just as he had been the one to cause it in the first place.

Leaving the Dread Wolf statue behind, Solas headed for the tent he and Ellana shared. Reaching it, he stooped and shuffled inside as quietly as he could, hoping not to disturb her if she was asleep. But as his eyes adjusted to the greater darkness inside the tent he saw the glint of Ellana's eyes as she blinked, watching him.

"Vhenan," he murmured softly. "You're awake."

She shifted, sitting up and taking the great bear pelt with her. The stormheart arrowhead she wore at her neck stood out dark against her pale skin even in the low light. Seeing it made Solas' cheeks heat with embarrassment at his own mistake. It was as bad as the time Vivienne had ridiculed him for catching his own coattails on fire.

"I dozed off a few times waiting for you," she admitted, the words thick with fatigue.

"You're looking to discuss our next step," Solas guessed as he shed his overcoat and tugged the tunic underneath it off. Folding them neatly and placing them near the closed tent flap, he said, "Unfortunately I have no new ideas as to how we can lessen the devastation of removing the Veil."

"Have you given it any thought? Where might we look for—"

"This is not a mystery we can unravel the way you did with Corypheus," Solas interrupted her with a long exhaled breath. "You must remember I created the Veil. I understand how it functions. Removing it unavoidably will create demons, just as destroying a dam will cause a flood downstream. There is no escape from that reality."

"Then maybe you need to consider it a different way," Ellana retorted in an angry tone.

Staring at her through the dark, Solas' shoulders fell. If he had weeks of time and energy to explain the nuances of the Veil and how it functioned she'd realize what she asked was impossible. There was no way to ease the sudden transition and its impact on both the Fade and the waking world. That left alternatives like uthenera and stasis to survive the devastation, but it would be impossible to protect everyone with wards. And the other races wouldn't benefit at all from uthenera or stasis. Instead they'd just starve behind the protection of their wards as the demons persisted for months or even years.

"Vhenan," he said, shaking his head. "You do not understand the—"

"Then teach me, Solas." She pushed the pelt aside, moving to take his hands in hers. "Help me help you solve this problem. Please." Her underclothes were thin and silken, loose against her frame.

It was as if she'd read his mind, but it did little to comfort Solas. Squeezing her hand, he smiled anyway, though he knew it'd be full of melancholy. "As you wish. Perhaps you will uncover a solution I have not considered." He wanted to believe it was possible, that he'd been staring at this problem so long that he could no longer see another way. But more likely teaching Ellana would just allow her to see the hopelessness of her desire—and that the cost of what Solas planned might kill him.

"Thank you," she said and pressed forward to kiss him.

Solas met her halfway, caressing his hands up her shoulders as he deepened the kiss, tasting her as the hunger he'd felt earlier that day reawakened inside him. When his fingers grazed the bare skin of her neck, sliding beneath her silken nightshirt, he felt the leather strap of the stormheart arrowhead. The magic of it—his own magic—leaped from it and passed through his fingertips.

With a little gasp he broke the kiss and cursed, "Fenedhis." Sheepish shame cut him, making it impossible to meet her abruptly concerned gaze.

"Solas?" Her hands found his still at her neck and gripped them. "What's wrong?"

He closed his eyes, grimacing. "Vhenan, I must ask your forgiveness."

"For what?" she asked, sounding confused.

Sighing, Solas turned his head back to her, though he looked at her throat, not her face. Slowly he dragged his fingers to touch the arrowhead again, feeling the magic tickle at his touch. "Your anti-conception charm never failed, vhenan. My gift to you nullified it as hostile magic. I was foolish and did not think to check for a conflict with any enchantments or charms you already wore." He risked looking at her quickly and saw her eyes were wide as understanding dawned. "The blame is mine. It was an inexcusable mistake that—"

She pressed a finger over his lips. "Solas," she said, smiling softly. "This is not something we assign blame for. It could have been my charm that failed just as easily since I hadn't considered it in a year at least." She chuckled. "And anyway, I think we're both responsible."

Remembering the night he'd given her the arrowhead made Solas' heart pound with excitement. He watched her face, eyes darting often to her lips as he wrestled with his own mixture of arousal and shame. She should be angry with him for his foolishness. He was angry with himself for it—yet somehow he didn't regret the child, even knowing how much it complicated everything.

Ellana's hand went to the arrowhead at her throat, her eyes losing their focus. "Would you take it back if you could?"

He knew without having to ask that she meant the child, not the arrowhead. He scowled and shook his head. "No, vhenan. Never." He smiled slightly. "Though I do wish it had happened after I removed the Veil."

"Then there's nothing to forgive and no blame. It doesn't matter how we made our child, just that he's here." Her smile was bright despite the darkness and it made Solas' stomach flip-flop with want. He didn't miss the way she'd called their child he again either.

Leaning his forehead to hers, Solas purred, "I believe we both know how we made our child, vhenan." His hands moved to her waist, one caressing upward while the other went low around her hip.

"Is that so?" she asked, her breath catching a little on the words. "You might have to refresh my memory."

"Gladly," he said and kissed her hungrily.

Next Chapter

"Aneth ara," Ellana shouted the friendly Dalish greeting used between clans, still searching the woods around them for whoever she'd sensed watching them. "We are peaceful."

A figure stepped into view from a thick bush atop the next hill, moving with the slow grace of all Dalish hunters. But as he moved into the dappled beams of afternoon sunlight streaming in through the canopy above Ellana's jaw dropped with recognition. "Negan?"

"Ellana?" he asked, quiet with shock. "Is that really you?"