A/N: Continuing with our elven rebellion, a little time has passed. Plot thickens! Next chapter is fairly lighthearted. This one has Plot with a capital P. There's also fluff because I live for fluff. Anyway, thank you to my reviewers, mostly guests. I always appreciate words of encouragement! Had great news today...my agent didn't screw me out of getting published as my publisher is still interested in working with me. So, that's something! Something good! Bye bye agent, hello publisher!

Sixteen

Mythal's New Vessel

Ellana watched the halla grazing from her perch atop a rounded gray boulder. The sky was bright blue and cloudless, the air warm and heavy with summertime humidity. Flies buzzed her face and she waved them away. The river babbled nearby, reminding her she had to relieve her bladder soon, but she pushed that thought aside and continued her silent vigil watching the halla. Her bow and quiver were on her back, her scout armor comfortable though a tad warm with the mid-morning sunshine beating down on her.

This was the Exalted Plains, near Keeper Hawen's clan. How had she come to be here? The last she remembered she'd been on her way to Wycome, traveling a rough road through the wilderness with Solas, Abelas, and several other warriors and sentinels from the Crossroads network. Unable to recall, Ellana frowned to herself, then shifted again to try and forget the need to empty her bladder.

"They call it Dirthavaren," a familiar female voice spoke behind her.

Ellana leapt to her feet, tensing and twisting round. Morrigan stood in the shadow of the rocky cliff side behind her, her head cocked to one side and her golden eyes dark. The rocks around Morrigan had an odd green coloration and a wispy mist flowed around her legs, seeming to rise from the earth. That meant something. What did it mean?

Ellana's toes gripped the boulder, one hand on her bow and the other on the feathered fletching of an arrow. "Morrigan…?" she asked.

"Is the weapon truly necessary, Inquisitor?" Morrigan asked, arching an eyebrow. "'Tis an awfully rude way to greet an ally."

Ellana frowned and slowly lowered both her hands to her side, though she kept her grip on the bow. "What do you want, Morrigan?"

"Just to talk. I daresay we have much to catch up on after two years." She strode out from the shadow and into the sunlight. Green mist swirled around her feet and Ellana saw the dirt beneath Morrigan's boots had an emerald tint now. That's not right, Ellana thought but kept herself from frowning.

Morrigan interrupted her thoughts, clucking her tongue and inhaling in a mock gasp. "I see the rumors out of the Exalted Council were true. Inquisitor Lavellan with child! Oh the scandal!"

The scantily clad witch made a broad circle around Ellana, her eyes locked on her as she walked. Something about her seemed darker, larger and broodier than Ellana recalled. She fought the nervous twist inside her that made her hands sweat, longing to ready an arrow.

Morrigan went on, smirking, "I'm not convinced the rumors about the child's father are accurate, however. The good Dalish girl who bowed to Mother as Mythal wouldn't sully her elven blood."

Ellana rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Morrigan?" she repeated, letting irritation creep into her voice. She didn't try to refute Morrigan about her pregnancy—the slight swell of her belly was visible now even with her armor adjusted to be loose. Anyone who'd known her before the pregnancy would see she'd put on weight, and all of it was suspiciously in her middle.

"Nothing, yet," the witch answered, stopping now so that she blocked the view Ellana had of the grazing halla in the field downhill. "I had hoped to put you at ease bringing you here, reminding you of what you fight for at the Dread Wolf's side."

Bringing me here…The answer slammed into Ellana like one of Solas' Fade rocks. She twisted around, staring up at the sky and seeing the tinge of green in it now. "We're dreaming," she muttered, more to herself than to Morrigan. "We're in the Fade."

Then another thought made her turn back to Morrigan, eyes widening. "You shaped the Fade into this? How?"

Morrigan smiled, nodding once. "Not I, exactly. Not alone, anyway. I had a little help from Mythal."

Ellana gawked, speechless a moment. "You're Mythal's vessel now? What happened to Flemeth?"

"Yes," Morrigan said, the smile falling from her lips. "I am Mythal's vessel." She shook her head, baring her teeth for a moment in a silent snarl before her expression went blank again. "Though ours is not the most harmonious of unions, yet."

"She compels you," Ellana guessed, her mind spinning. "Because you drank from the Well."

"Yes, yes," Morrigan muttered, her mouth forming the snarl again as her eyes squinted shut as if with pain. "She and I are not always in agreement, but we are of one mind in this: Fen'Harel's plan to restore the People will lead to disaster for Thedas."

Ellana's throat seemed to swell with a hot lump she couldn't swallow. In the weeks since she'd first asked Solas to teach her about the Veil and his plans she'd learned a lot, but she'd come no closer to seeing a way around slaughtering thousands in the chaos. She had no reason to believe Solas would hold back vital information as she could see the pain in his face, hear it in his voice, when he considered the misery he'd cause when he tore down the Veil. They'd bickered about it countless times, but they always reached the same impasse: Solas carried the weight of the People on his shoulders and would not hesitate to sacrifice Thedas to return them to glory while Ellana refused to accept such an atrocity.

"Do you see a better way?" Ellana asked, her voice tight.

"I do," Morrigan said, staring at her obliquely from the corner of one eye. Her golden irises glinted in the sunlight. "But I fear approaching Fen'Harel directly as he will sense Mythal within me and…" She fell silent, grimacing again in a way Ellana was beginning to suspect reflected her inner struggle with Mythal.

"And what?" Ellana asked, still trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Her chest constricted, certain whatever Morrigan—or was it Mythal now?—had to say wouldn't be something good.

"Well," Morrigan said, a grim smile on her lips. "The last time Mythal met with Fen'Harel he killed Mother."

Ellana flinched as if Morrigan had struck her across the face. "You're lying."

Morrigan laughed and spread her arms out wide to indicate the glory of the Exalted Plains as reflected by the Fade. "Tell me, Inquisitor, do you really think I could create this without Mythal's help? I sought you out in dreaming. This is not a talent the Well gave me, but Mythal. And why would Mythal leave Mother, unless she were dead? Who do you think would have the power to truly kill Mother?"

Heart pounding and mouth dry, Ellana shook her head. She refused to believe it. "Solas would never kill Flemeth unless she attacked him first. He and Mythal were close in Elvhenan. He would never—"

"Your blind devotion is admirable, Inquisitor," Morrigan said, her sarcasm unmistakable. "But 'tis still foolish. Mythal knows your lover as you never can and she whispers to me now that his ruthlessness and cunning were renowned in Elvhenan." She cocked her head, eyes narrowing as if listening to a voice only she could hear. "Tell me, has Fen'Harel ever told you how he came to have control over the Crossroads?"

"No," Ellana admitted. Her hand opened and closed at her side, curling into a fist as she tried to keep calm and not fidget or wiggle in place—she really had to pee.

"Before he joined your Inquisition, Fen'Harel had an agent named Felassan who worked with Briala on his behalf. Strange, don't you think, that you have not met this agent? I suggest you ask your lover about Felassan and see what he tells you." Morrigan crossed her arms over her chest. "I think you'll find, Inquisitor, that Fen'Harel will resist answering your questions. He has sheltered you from the harsh truth of what it takes to be the Dread Wolf."

A cold tremor prickled Ellana's skin, making her shiver. Through gritted teeth she said, "I don't believe you. Why are you trying to turn me away from him?"

Morrigan's lopsided smile widened. "Isn't it obvious? I hope to steer Fen'Harel away from disaster."

"You said you know another way to restore the People," Ellana said, shifting her weight anxiously from foot to foot. "Dirthera," she commanded. Tell.

Again Morrigan spread her arms, as if to envelope the Exalted Plains in a hug. "Dirthavaren, Inquisitor. The Broken Promise of the Dales. This is the land you must reclaim."

Ellana stared at her, feeling sweat under her breasts and along her back, her bladder still screaming to be emptied. "You're mad. The Dales are lost. We could not retake them even with every Dalish clan and every city elf united as one army. The humans would still outnumber us and they would slaughter us."

Morrigan raised one hand, as if to interject. "I did not suggest you and Fen'Harel retake the Dales in war—not exactly. 'Tis a far better plan to make the humans leave the Dales of their own volition."

"And how would we do such a thing?" Ellana asked, baffled.

Now Morrigan grinned. "We make them want to keep their Broken Promise." She strode closer to Ellana's boulder, making her tense. "When you waken, suggest to Fen'Harel that perhaps he might consider removing the Veil in…pieces."

"In pieces?" Ellana repeated, blinking with shock. "Is that possible?" Her mind whirled, considering everything Solas had told her about the Veil over the last few weeks. It was magic itself, a sort of vibration that repelled the Fade. Creating it had taken enormous amounts of energy, far more than Solas could have channeled himself even as one of the Evanuris. His rebellion had raided the other Evanuris' holdings, claiming dozens of fully charged foci to provide fuel for it. Then they'd had to scatter them all over Thedas, a process that took years even with the help of the eluvian network. Beyond that Ellana knew little of the actual spell because she wasn't a mage herself.

"If Fen'Harel tells you it is not possible, will you believe him?" Morrigan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Pinching her lips together, Ellana refused to answer that question. Instead she asked, "How will removing the Veil in pieces help? And how would it allow us to reclaim the Dales?"

Morrigan snorted. "Surely you can see the value in being able to test something dangerous before expanding it. Do you dip a toe into steaming water to test it first or leap headlong into it without a thought to caution?" She sighed. "As to how this will aid you in reclaiming the Dales…I imagine you recall how terrified the good Andrastians were of the Fade rifts. When the Fade becomes part of the waking world once again they will flee at the sight of even peaceful spirits." She shook her head. "Humans are not prepared culturally or physically to comprehend a world where the Fade and reality are one. They will leave the Dales to Fen'Harel."

"And curse his name," Ellana said, scowling. "We have enough enemies, Morrigan."

An impatient look flared in Morrigan's eyes. "This is your only other option, Inquisitor. You will make enemies no matter what you do, but this way only hundreds will die rather than the thousands Fen'Harel will slaughter in the chaos of completely obliterating the Veil. An Elvhen homeland where the Fade and the waking world are one will create a place the humans will never invade, never destroy, while still leaving the humans room to flourish. And with one such as you to intervene politically on the People's behalf I am certain we can convince Thedas to give the elves their due. Initially some force may be required to scatter the more stubborn humans..."

"This is why you've helped Solas build an army," Ellana murmured, more to herself than to Morrigan—or Mythal, rather. Every Dalish clan they'd come across to recruit had Keepers ad Firsts who revealed they'd met Mythal in dreams and learned her champion was coming. Ellana had asked Solas about it after recruiting the Dalish clan around Hellathen Hamin, but he'd claimed he had not been in communication with Mythal. Ellana wondered now if "not being in communication" with Mythal included not killing Flemeth.

"Indeed," Morrigan replied, her smile sly. "But 'tis time you woke, Inquisitor. Remember our talk and Dirthavaren." With another broad gesture, Morrigan indicated the Exalted Plains, now swirling with the green mists of the Fade in the hollows and shadows. "I will speak with you again soon."

Ellana opened her mouth to bid Morrigan goodbye but found her throat closed and numb, unresponsive. Then the world tilted and went black, the plains vanishing. The babble of the river and the heat of the sunlight ceased and when Ellana inhaled next she smelled the musty odor of the great bear pelt Solas used as a blanket over their bedrolls.

Blinking, she saw the dim light of dawn had lit their tent. Her cheeks were chilly with the bite of the late autumn air, but warmth enveloped her inside the bedroll and beneath the pelt. Solas' breath puffed against the back of her neck and his hand lay on her waist.

Dread coiled inside her, a tight band that seemed to choke more air out of her with each breath when she considered her dream. It'd been too real, too vivid to be merely a dream. She didn't want to question Solas, didn't want to doubt him—but if it saved thousands of lives as Morrigan claimed Ellana knew she had to do it. And if he had killed Flemeth, or was as ruthless as Morrigan wanted her to believe…

Something fluttered against her bladder, reminding her how badly she needed to empty it. Grateful for the distraction, Ellana pushed the thoughts aside.

Shivering in anticipation of the chilly autumn air, Ellana started crawling from under the pelt as quietly as she could, hoping to let Solas sleep. But she'd only gotten halfway out before he sucked in a breath and stretched, fingers catching her by the thigh.

"Vhenan?" he asked blearily. "Are you well?"

Her heart ached seeing his sleep-drugged face, innocent and redolent of the many nights they'd spent lost in the fever dream of lovemaking. Deciding her bladder could wait just a few more minutes, Ellana slipped back under the pelt. She snuggled close to him, absorbing his warmth like a dry sponge takes in water. "I'm fine, emma lath."

Solas made a little noise of satisfaction in his throat and caressed her back with one hand, his eyes drifting shut. "We will be with your clan soon." He smiled, the tenderness in it unmistakable. "I must admit, I worry they will not approve." His hand had moved to the slight mound of her belly.

The fluttering sensation came again against Ellana's bladder and she winced. "I never had a chance to send word before—" She stopped, concentrating inward as the fluttering changed position, seeming to roll. Realization hit her and she gasped, then laughed. "I can feel him!"

Solas had opened his eyes when she broke off, his brow furrowing with concern. But then he blinked, blue eyes focusing on her with alertness. "Our child is kicking?"

"I think so," she said, grinning. Gripping his hand, she guided him lower on her navel, hoping to let him feel it. The fluttering had eased off for the moment but she held her breath, hoping it would start up again. "He's been dancing on my bladder all morning and I just now realized what it was."

They waited in silence, Solas closing his eyes with a look of concentration on his face. Ellana felt the rolling sensation again, higher now, and moved his hand over it. "There. Do you feel it?"

He frowned and started to say, "No, I—" And then the flutter came again and Solas' eyes shot open, an expression of wonder transforming his features.

"You felt that," Ellana said, chuckling.

"I most certainly did," he confirmed, also letting out a lighthearted laugh before pressing forward to kiss her. His hand stayed on her belly, waiting for more kicks even as the kiss deepened and intensified.

As the baby pressed on her bladder again, Ellana reluctantly broke the kiss. "I really need to use the woods," she murmured, flashing an embarrassed smile.

"Ah," Solas said, grinning at her. "Of course." He flung the pelt off them both and sat up, helping her do the same. "I will accompany you."

She snorted at him, wrinkling her nose. "Solas, please. I think I can manage this alone." Solas had been increasingly protective of her, rarely letting her out of sight as the weeks passed, reminding Ellana more and more of overprotective husbands and fathers she'd seen in her clan. Considering his troubled past Ellana tried not to be irritable about it.

"Of that there is no doubt, vhenan," he said as he grabbed his clothing from where he'd left it near the closed tent flap. "However, I also need to use the woods, as you put it."

"Oh," Ellana said, blushing as she pulled on her warm traveling clothes. She wore a loose tunic, foregoing a belt to avoid drawing attention to her midriff, and a coat with a fur-lined hood. She shivered as she pulled the tunic and coat on. The morning air left the fabric chilled. Autumn had definitely settled on the Free Marches. Soon frost would rime their tents.

As she saw Solas put on the black lacquered wolf jawbone, Ellana stiffened, recalling Morrigan's questions. "Is it possible to remove the Veil in pieces?" she blurted.

Solas twisted to stare at her, both eyebrows raised with obvious surprise. Then he paused, lips pinching together as he considered. "Yes," he said. "But it would be unstable. The entire Veil would fail, much like the Breach. It would spawn demons, too. I see little point—"

"Would there be no way to stabilize it? Confine it to one spot?" Ellana pressed. "Perhaps the artifacts we encountered while defeating Corypheus could be utilized to secure the edges—a little like hemming a frayed edge in fabric."

Surprise brightened his blue eyes. "Yes, that would be possible. But what do you hope to accomplish?"

"A test," Ellana said. "Like dipping a finger into a hot bath to make sure it isn't scalding. We should make sure removing the Veil won't cause any surprises."

"The Fade would need to be isolated as well," Solas murmured, his gaze unfocused as he considered it aloud. "Or the tear would never cease attracting demons and ripping spirits through." He gave a little huff and frowned. "I would need to walk physically in the Fade again."

"That's what the Anchor is for," Ellana reminded him, lifting her left hand and flexing it.

He frowned but said, "I will give this greater thought. For now we have more pressing matters." His smile was lopsided. "Such as visiting the woods."

"But you will think about it, right?" Ellana asked.

Solas shot her an unreadable look, somewhere between curiosity and suspicion. "Of course, vhenan."

Wycome's walls reared on the hill far ahead. The city was on the high point of the local landscape, allowing for tactical advantage in a battle or siege. A few buildings lay scattered outside the city's walls—mostly inns, taverns, and shops. Knowing their party would likely attract attention, Solas had stayed in the protection of the forest some distance out, close enough to see the city and the road but far enough away that travelers and patrols wouldn't stumble upon their wilderness camp.

It was midmorning before Lyris and Mathrel returned from scouting a nearby tavern and reported exactly what Ellana and Solas had both feared—wanted posters with their likenesses offering an award from Chantry and Inquisition forces. Unfortunately Ellana's actions had drawn the ire of the humans as well, who already chafed at the elf-run council that'd been erected after the Duke of Wycome had nearly destroyed the city with red lyrium over two years ago. Ellana's Keeper had made no comments as to the charges against her, though the council had apparently condemned the apostate fugitive and spy, Solas, who'd supposedly abducted or enchanted her into leaving her own Inquisition.

Had Mythal visited Keeper Deshanna? And if she had, would clan Lavellan be able to follow without incurring the local humans' wrath?

"The city elves may be more open to us," Mathrel said as their group planned its next step. As always he spoke to Solas primarily, though his gaze often jumped to Ellana. After weeks traveling like this with Ellana at his side, Solas had struggled to come to a middle ground between his identity as Fen'Harel and the subservient companion Solas as he and Ellana adjusted to the changed power dynamic between them. When it came to recruiting the Dalish, Solas always deferred to Ellana's opinion.

Abelas shook his head, frowning. "The city elves will always be open to us. It is the clan we must focus on. Mythal will have visited them as she has with the others. We must find them before the memory of the dream diminishes."

Solas studied the sentinel leader out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching downward on one side. Mysteriously, Mythal seemed to reach out to every clan they encountered, making them receptive to the Dread Wolf and calling for action. Abelas was a powerful mage, but Solas doubted he had the capacity to pose as Mythal. Could Mythal truly be reaching out from the Fade to support him? Solas clenched his jaw, unhappy with the loose ends here and certain there'd be a price or a trick somewhere soon if this was truly Mythal's work. He needed to uncover and anticipate it.

"I agree with Abelas," Ellana said, the words carrying a tight edge.

Seeing her anxious expression made Solas smile at her, hoping to offer reassurance. "We will seek out clan Lavellan first," he announced. "Any idea where they may have made camp?"

He had to bite back the instinct to call her vhenan. Nervousness wormed in his own gut seeing the cream-white of her large coat, knowing it obscured the gentle swell of her belly. This was not their typical recruitment—it was personal. If they rejected Fen'Harel they'd likely outcast Ellana and their child with him. The idea of causing her that kind of pain made him burn with a frustrated rage and then alternatively feel heavy with shame. As usual, he was the cause of most of the misery that befell those closest to him.

"No," she answered, surveying the forest and then the road and the city far ahead. "But it will be near water. Close enough to the city that my Keeper will be able to make the journey easily for council meetings, yet far enough away that their sewage won't sicken the clan." She wrinkled her nose with disgust.

"A day's walk away at least, then," Lyris said, grinning at Ellana.

"Further," Ellana corrected her. "Deshanna will ride by halla, I expect."

"Deshanna?" Mathrel asked, scowling.

"My Keeper," Ellana explained. "But you should call her Keeper Istimaethoriel."

"It's a lot of ground to cover," said Darae, one of the sentinel elves with them. "Is there a chance we could learn from the shem-elves in the city where the clan is camped?"

Ellana let out a quick laugh and then sobered when everyone but Solas shot her quizzical looks. Solas cleared his throat and spoke for her, "Clan Lavellan will not have advertised its position. It would be foolish to do so, particularly after the events of two years ago when human bandits and corruption within Wycome nearly killed the clan."

Ellana smiled at him, nodding her approval. "I suggest we find the nearest freshwater source and search around it. Also, we should hunt and forage. We'll likely run across my clan's hunters."

"I do not like this idea," Mathrel said with a little irritable huff. His brown eyes narrowed at Solas. "We cannot risk them betraying us when they see you, Fen'Harel. They will recognize you as Solas, the fugitive apostate and spy on the city's wanted posters."

Ellana's face twisted with outrage. "My clan would never—"

"You do not know that," Mathrel interrupted her, shaking his head. His gaze was soft with sympathy as he said it, but the words were hard as steel. "You have been away for years."

Ellana turned her head, looking to Solas with her brow furrowed, troubled with doubt. As much as Solas wanted to assume clan Lavellan would welcome them readily simply because of Ellana's connection to them, he couldn't be certain. And, if the clan did prove hostile or decided to turn him and Ellana over to the humans, Solas would likely be forced to show the full extent of his power to escape again. Subterfuge was always preferable to open combat. One must never reveal his hand until absolutely necessary. And, although he had little fear of imprisonment or death at the hands of either Inquisition or Chantry forces, Ellana and his companions were vulnerable.

Averting his gaze from Ellana, Solas nodded to Mathrel to acknowledge his concerns. "I understand your doubts and share them, but I cannot approach this clan as I have the others." He didn't need to explain why. Everyone knew or suspected by now Ellana was with child and they had little chance of hiding it. This clan wasn't just another Dalish group to be recruited for the eventual slaughtering of demons to stabilize a restored world. It was…family?

The idea still left Solas heavy with trepidation. He'd inadvertently killed his real family long ago. Perhaps it'd be better for Ellana and her clan if he never contacted them.

Mathrel grunted with displeasure but didn't belabor the point. "Fen'Harel enansal."

"You will meet this clan as Solas?" Lyris asked, arching an eyebrow. "Will you not tell them what you truly are?"

Remembering Ellana's comment that morning, he shot her a little smile. "I believe it would be gentler on the clan and ourselves to test the waters first."

Her smile back at him was nervous but bright. "I agree."

"Then let us begin," Solas said and motioned to the others, dividing them into two groups. "Ellana, Darae, and Abelas will accompany me heading east. Lyris, Mathrel, Zaron, and Arina, you will head west around Wycome. We will return here at sunset."

It was only two hours of walking before Ellana spotted the first evidence of the clan—a snare along a game trail that Darae nearly stepped in. The sentinel elf seemed flustered when Ellana called out to her to freeze and scrambled to point out the delicate but strong rope vine curling away into the trees overhead.

"If you'd triggered it the snare would've strung you up by the leg," Ellana explained. "Walk around it, carefully."

"Is this to fight intruders?" Darae asked, her voice laced with irritation.

"No, it's meant to catch hares and deer—or wolves and foxes. Any sizable animal the clan might eat or use for its skin."

Darae sighed, her nose wrinkling with revulsion. "Barbaric."

Ellana bristled with outrage. "Excuse me?" She glared at the arcane warrior who, like the other highborn mages who'd served Mythal as sentinels, wore a shiny silver armor and a dark cloak. Like Lyris and Mathrel, Darae didn't seem to use a staff either, despite being a mage. In fact, Ellana hadn't seen Solas use a staff often since leaving the Inquisition. None of the arcane warriors seemed to need one—though they did use a spectral blade like Vivienne had as a knight enchanter.

"Darae," Solas reprimanded, his voice deep with warning. "Athim." Humility. It was a command.

The sentinel shot Solas a glare and then looked to Abelas, who stood last in their file. Ellana saw him shake his head, brow furrowed. The message was clear and Darae capitulated.

"Ir abelas," Darae apologized, but the words were wooden and unfeeling. Her face still had the slight snarl of disgust plastered all over it.

Ellana's hands clenched into fists as she glowered at all three of the ancient elves, shoulders heaving as rage burned through her. This was what all of them likely thought of her people beneath their civility to her. Even Solas had been hostile toward the Dalish despite his own clear comfort with the deep wilderness and humble origin.

Assuming he told you the truth of where he came from, a niggling voice whispered in her head.

"The next time you're about to step into one of my clan's barbaric traps I'll let you," Ellana snarled at Darae. "That will teach you some athim, lethallan."

Taking the lead, Ellana picked her way through the thick foliage, maneuvering with the ease of experience through the terrain despite the awkwardness of her large coat and expanded frame. The two sentinels lacked her grace and were noisier as they followed, but Ellana knew Solas was even quieter than her, moving with the surefooted confidence of his namesake, the wolf. Thinking of him seemed to make the baby start moving again, which cooled the anger inside her. Recalling the awe and affection she'd seen in Solas' face that morning as he felt their child kick blasted away her worries. Morrigan—or Mythal—was wrong about him and she'd been wrong to let them convince her to doubt him.

The forest around them was bright with a mixture of golden, yellow, and green leaves as the onset of autumn painted the trees. Rolling hills obscured much of the terrain ahead, but Ellana had spent more than enough time hiking to judge that they were traveling downhill gradually, which meant they'd likely run across a river soon. The clan preferred rivers to lakes because the water was fresher and better tasting.

As Ellana reached the base of one rolling hill, using the trunk or a nearby birch tree to steady herself on the slick grass and moss underfoot, her skin prickled with the sensation of someone else watching her. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood erect and she stopped, straining her ears and searching the next hill and the depression. Behind her she heard Abelas and Darae moving, their armor clinking metallically and their booted feet crunching on the underbrush as they gradually made their way after her. As usual she didn't hear Solas until he was directly behind her.

"We are not alone, vhenan," he whispered behind her. She felt her skin tingle anew from the nearness of his magic and clenched her left hand as a mild spurt of pain lanced through it.

The sentinels had halted behind them as well, sensing trouble by the way Ellana and Solas had paused. Ellana could imagine how their group appeared to a lone hunter of her clan—the sentinels armed and in bright armor, she and Solas dressed in traveling clothes that disguised light armor of their own. They'd be a curiosity, but also a concern, and clearly not members of another Dalish clan and unlikely to be city elves as the sentinels bore Mythal's vallaslin.

"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?"

"It's really me," she answered, grinning at the sight of her hunting master, still strong and unbowed despite his ever-increasing age. He had particularly long, pronounced ears, which had inspired his nickname among the hunters: Fennec. He was older than their Keeper and the clan Hahren or lore master, probably the oldest member of clan Lavellan now.

"Who are these strangers you travel with, da'len?" he asked her, frowning now. Ellana noticed he had his bow in one hand and his posture was stiff and alert. Despite revealing himself and recognizing her as a clan member Negan wasn't ready to trust her yet. Ellana didn't look around again but she guessed he wasn't alone.

Ellana turned slightly to indicate Solas. "This is Solas," she said and then motioned behind her to the sentinels. "My other companions are Abelas and Darae, servants of Mythal."

"Mythal'enaste," Negan said in greeting to the sentinels. He bore Andruil's vallaslin, which suited him well because Ellana had never seen anyone more proficient with a bow—even herself—until she met Sera. Even then, Ellana wished she could see Negan and Sera compete to be sure the old man wouldn't still prove the master.

"Will you take us to meet with Deshanna?" Ellana asked.

Negan's frown lines quirked as he made a face. "Forgive me, da'len. Deshanna left this morning for Wycome's council meeting. She will not return until tomorrow."

"Did Mahanon go with her?" Ellana asked, taking a few steps closer to Negan, deliberately ignoring the tension she felt from Solas. "I heard I'm an aunt. I'd love to meet my niece…"

Negan sighed, shoulder slouching. "These are troubling times, Ellana. The humans suspect us and their Templars have threatened to take away Nelora, our Second. There are…" He winced, looking away from her. "The humans say dark things of you and your apostate companion."

He'd recognized Solas then. Ellana steeled her spine and opened her arms in a sweeping motion to indicate the forest. "Are we bowing to the humans of Wycome now that my own kin will deny me?"

Negan shook his head. "Ellana, please. I know you understand the danger. It was only your Inquisition that saved us two years ago. Without you to lead them now they are likely to turn on us."

"That is why we have come, lethallin," Solas said, raising his voice with authority. Ellana shivered at it and sidestepped as he moved to stand next to her. "We will not sit idly by while the humans destroy your clan or the People. We bring news of Hellathen." Noble struggle.

Negan shifted from one foot to the other, antsy. "Dangerous words, lethallin."

"They are but words," Solas responded. "There is rarely any danger in hearing them, and that is all we ask of your clan." He cast a sidelong glance at Ellana then and added, "And, of course, ma vhenan wishes to see her family again."

The term of endearment used in public made Ellana's blood surge with warmth. She smiled at him and felt the baby squirm as if he sensed her happiness.

Negan nodded, looking somewhat abashed. "Of course you are welcome with the clan, da'len. My concern was only that we cannot risk sheltering your companions for very long without risking Templar ire." He turned and called over his shoulder, "Nesa, you can come out now."

A young girl, barefaced and no older than ten, sprang out from the bush Negan had been hiding in, grinning and beaming with excitement. "Ellana," she yelled. "You've returned!"

"Look at you," Ellana said, gasping. "You're going to be as tall as your grandfather!"

Nesa charged down the hillside, slipping and sliding in her rush. She wore her black hair in a braid and had large, pronounced ears—an exact copy of Negan's. Ellana stooped slightly to be on the girl's level and grunted as Nesa collided with her.

Laughing erupted from Negan on the hill. "Come along now, Nesa. You'll have plenty of time to hug Ellana tonight."

Nesa released her hold around Ellana's shoulders but as she stood upright again the girl's hands snaked around her waist and held tight. In the unashamed, uninhibited way of the clan's children, Nesa felt over Ellana's abdomen, her mouth agape. "Are you growing a baby in there?" she asked.

Ellana's cheeks warmed and she ruffled Nesa's hair. Chuckling, she asked, "Hasn't the Keeper taught you any manners, da'len?"

"Ir abelas, hahren," Nesa intoned seriously and then grinned again—not sheepish at all despite Ellana's admonishment.

On the hill Negan watched her with a small smile, the way Ellana remembered her own father watching her before she'd left for the conclave. Negan had been as much a father to her as her own real father. The old hunter's gaze slipped to Solas for a moment, assessing him, but what he said aloud was, "Follow me. I will take you to the clan."

Nesa tugged on Ellana's hand as they set off through the forest, trailing Negan who set a swift pace in spite of his age. Crisp autumn leaves crunched beneath Ellana's feet and the refreshing scent of the woods pushed aside the anxiety knot and tension in her spine. Early after joining the Inquisition Ellana had suffered intense bouts of homesickness, finding herself overwhelmed by so many humans and all their unfamiliar faces and practices. Even the food and clothes were foreign. The sight of another elf, even one she assumed was just a flat-eared apostate—Solas—had been such a relief, even if he had unusual beliefs.

Over time the ache of that homesickness had faded with the rush of fighting for her life against Corypheus and she'd forgotten the charms of clan life. Falling in love, leading the Inquisition, engaging with the humans, and learning constantly of the world beyond her clan had made her past seem distant and small. Now the scent of the forest brought it back in a rush, making her lightheaded, her eyes heavy and burning with the threat of tears. How had she managed to survive over three years away from her clan?

After a few minutes of walking—in silence because even a child like Nesa understood the danger of attracting predators or enemies with chatter—Negan stopped atop a rocky outcrop and whistled. The birdcall was familiar to Ellana and she had to stop herself from repeating it back to Negan. The birdcall was the hunter's discreet announcement that he was entering another hunter's turf. The clan avoided friendly fire between hunters by establishing territories, the same way real predators would.

After a few moments another, slightly different call replied. Ellana recognized this one too and her heart clenched in her chest. She knew that particular whistle belonged to one hunter she knew very well—a snare-setter and warrior named Lerand.

Ellana's first lover, the man who'd nearly become her husband and bond partner.

Negan led them around the rocky outcropping that obstructed their path and into the depression below. The sentinels were noisy, drawing confused looks from Nesa as they dislodged dirt and clanked their armor with each step. Ellana could see the girl longed to question them, but she knew better than to speak without Negan telling her it was allowed. Silence was the first rule of the hunter. Solas shadowed Ellana but seemed at ease despite the storm she knew must be churning inside him. Her clan was unlike any of the others they'd visited for obvious reasons.

In the depression Negan led them in to the ground was loamy and moist, covered in moss. Ellana's feet sank into it with every step, muffling sounds. Even Abelas and Darae's footsteps were quieter now as Negan whistled the birdcall again. This time an answer came almost immediately and much closer.

"We will wait here for Lerand," Negan said, directing the words to Ellana's companions rather than her. "Speak freely," he said with a smile as he looked at her. "We are safe here."

"Why are you so loud?" Nesa asked the sentinels immediately, making a face. "Didn't your Keeper teach you to muffle your steps?"

Abelas and Darae stared at her, speechless, but Solas broke into a laugh. "An excellent question," he said after a moment.

Stifling her own laughter, Ellana tried to answer Nesa. "Abelas and Darae are warriors. It's hard to be quiet when you're wearing armor like theirs."

Nesa wrinkled her nose. "It's so shiny even a blind halla would see them coming."

"But it will stop an arrow," Abelas said, his expression sour. "And deflect most spells."

"Nesa," Negan scolded her. "You are being rude to Ellana's guests."

With a horrified look, Nesa bowed to Abelas and Darae. "Forgive me, hahren."

"There is nothing to forgive, child," Darae said gently. Despite her earlier grouchiness her eyes were soft as she watched Nesa. Solas had told Ellana that children were rare in Elvhenan, discouraged for multiple reasons. He'd told her Lyris and Mathrel had joined him after losing their daughter to Ghilan'nain's nobility and that such experiences were common. Now Ellana wondered if Darae had lost a child too with the way she looked at Nesa.

"What clan are you from?" Nesa asked them and tapped her forehead. "I like your vallaslin. I think I will choose Mythal too someday."

"We are not Dalish," Abelas replied, stiffly.

"Oh," Nesa said and then added, "I guess that's okay." Turning to Ellana the little girl's eyes widened. "Wait, Ellana—where are your vallaslin?"

"I…" Ellana cleared her throat, aware of Negan watching her. "I had it removed."

"Removed?" Negan asked, scowling. "Da'len, why would you do such a thing?"

"And how?" Nesa chimed in.

Ellana could almost feel Solas stiffening behind her, all amusement at Nesa's antics forgotten. The knot of anxiety in her own chest coiled tighter. "It's a long story," she said, opting to be evasive. "I'd rather not discuss it right now."

"Why not?" Nesa asked, perplexed.

"We will respect Ellana's wishes," Negan chided the girl in a somber voice.

Sighing theatrically, Nesa said, "Yes, hahren."

Then movement drew Ellana's eye as two more figures approached through the underbrush, nearly silent. They waved to Negan as they drew nearer and exchanged whistles again. Already Ellana's stomach was flip-flopping with nervousness, recognizing Lerand and his companion. When Lerand lifted his head and made eye contact he froze, his mouth agape with shock before he shouted her name. "Ellana!"

The blond-haired, brown-eyed warrior picked up his speed, outpacing his companion—his older brother—in his hurry. Lerand didn't stop until he was within arm's reach. "Ellana, is that really you? After all this time?"

She grinned, though she knew the expression would be tight with her anxiety. "Yes, Lerand, it really is me."

"Creators," Lerand said and laughed, reaching out and gripping her forearms. "I never thought you'd return." He grinned, handsome and mischievous. "You're more beautiful than ever—but what happened to your vallaslin?"

Solas shifted behind her but said nothing as Ellana felt herself blushing. "I—it's a long story."

"Restrain yourself, little brother," Samhel said, chuckling from slightly further away where he stood beside a smirking Negan and Nesa.

"Come now," Negan said and started walking again.

Next Chapter

Lerand greeted them both and then glanced to Solas again. "Pride and Sorrow?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "Do you two hate each other or what?"

Darae snorted with derision, glaring. Abelas ignored him as if he hadn't heard the question.

Solas, however, chuckled dryly. "How astute of you, da'len. Isn't it comforting to know that one's character may be accurately surmised from the meaning of his name alone?"