A/N: Another chapter for everyone! More Plot with a capital P. We've had some Solas-Ellana angst building for a while now and it continues here. Mahanon, Ellana's brother, gets some more screen time here. I've noticed my writing tends to focus a lot on family, particularly siblings. As a result you can expect Mahanon to reappear as a vital character to both Ellana and Solas...

And big THANK YOU to all my followers and reviewers! Especially KiraChan! Lovely chatting with you! :-D

Eighteen

Bad News From Tevinter

Keeper Deshanna looked as though she might vomit or break out into sobs, Ellana wasn't sure which was more likely. Mahanon, at her side, was as pale as a halla.

"This…" Deshanna shook her head as she gazed between Ellana and Solas. "This is a lot to take in, da'len." Stiffening, her pale brown eyes flew to Solas warily, no doubt realizing she'd just referred to Fen'Harel as child.

"I understand," Ellana said. "You do not need to answer us quickly, or at all. Whether you fight for us or not we will still protect you from the trying times ahead."

They sat together on animal pelts in the clearing some distance from the aravel circle, tall golden grass swaying in the gentle evening breeze. Abelas and the rest of Solas' Elvhen compatriots were now in the clan's encampment, currently socializing—which so far meant the warriors and sentinels stood around with longsuffering, sour expressions while everyone gawked at them and picked at their armor in wonder. Usually Abelas and the others functioned as backup in case the clan reacted violently, though only two clans had ever rejected them and neither attacked. After the celebration and friendliness of Ellana's clan the sentinels and warriors hardly seemed necessary, except as a way to prove remnants of Elvhenan lingered on.

"I trust you, Lana," Deshanna said, though her expression was pained. Her gaze moved to Solas. "Forgive me, it is you I doubt."

Solas smiled sadly. "I am not surprised or offended, lethallan. Your legends do not remember me kindly."

"The Creators were but mortal men and women?" Deshanna asked, repeating what Ellana and Solas had already told them. "A being claiming to be Mythal has visited me in my dreams over the last week, but she did not tell me any of this. I cannot believe it is so. Ageless or no, how could our people remember mere mages as gods? Legend says Elgar'nan defeated the sun, who was his father. He and Mythal shaped the very earth."

"They were no mere mages," Solas said, his voice rough and somber. "They were Evanuris, the most talented and powerful of Elvhenan. And they did shape the very earth—such was their power."

"Can you?" Mahanon blurted, eyes wide.

Solas' jaw clenched and he nodded. "I could, before the Veil sundered the waking world from the Fade. I am a Dreamer; we shape the Fade. When this world and the Fade were one I could transform both with enough will and magic."

"And you wish to restore the world as it was in Elvhenan?" Deshanna asked, her expression unreadable.

"Doing so will restore the People," Solas told her emphatically. "We will once more be ageless. Magic is the lifeblood of the People, lethallan."

"Magic is the gift of the People," Mahanon repeated what Ellana had told him the previous day, glancing to her with a somber darkness in his eyes. "But then none would be safe from the Templars or the Circles. The humans would destroy us in fear of our talents."

"We will have to fight," Solas replied, the passion in his voice making Ellana's skin dimple with gooseflesh. "It is inevitable." He paused, nostrils flaring as he breathed. "It is why I have survived—to lead the People. To right the wrongs of the past."

"Even with magic, we are so few," Deshanna said, frowning though her eyes were sad. "Our best hope is to endure and outlast the humans."

"We grow fewer every year," Solas retorted, his vehemence becoming anger. "In the cities humans purge the alienages on a whim. In Tevinter we are slaves. With every generation our blood is sullied by humans. We will not outlast humans, we will simply be absorbed by them." He fell silent a moment, blue eyes blazing with emotion. Then he said, "I refuse to give in when I have the will and the power to fight."

"Perhaps you are unfamiliar with our history," Deshanna said, irritated as well now. Her long, silver-gray hair gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight as she shook her head. "We fought once before, for the Dales. We lost them. We lost everything. We cannot afford to—"

"I am familiar with your history," Solas interrupted her, his voice almost a growl. "I watched it unfold from the Fade as I dreamed in uthenera. But what is coming is not a war the humans can win, even with greater numbers. When the Veil is removed I will once more shape the earth itself to defend the People."

"Forgive me," Mahanon said, fidgeting with his sleeves as Solas turned his blue-eyed glare on him. "With the Veil in place as it is now, what power do you wield? If the Templars were to arrive now for my daughter or Nelora, could you protect us?"

Ellana watched Solas' reaction out of the corner of one eye, seeing the way he paused, blinking with surprise. The clans they'd approached before had all been cowed with awe and fear, seeing the Dread Wolf as the Evanuris he was. That, combined with Mythal's influence through their dreams, made them more likely to accept Solas' proposal and the many hard truths he shared. But clan Lavellan had met him as Solas, Ellana's lover and fellow Inquisition member. Now, like Ellana had, they were having difficulty understanding how the nondescript, bald apostate could be Fen'Harel.

"Of course," Solas answered firmly. "I would not allow them to take anyone to a Circle."

"There were at least twenty bandits who attacked us two years ago on the day Father died," Mahanon said, suddenly animated. "You could have stopped them with ease?"

"He would have, yes," Ellana answered before Solas.

Solas glanced to her, his brow furrowed. "Vhenan—"

"They haven't seen what you can do. I have," she said, gripping his hand and squeezing. Looking back to her Keeper and Mahanon, she licked her lips and explained, "When the Divine ordered Solas' arrest, I went to go see him where they'd imprisoned him. When the guards tried to drag me out against my will Solas petrified them."

"Petrified?" Deshanna asked, confused.

"Turned them to stone," Ellana clarified. Both the Keeper and Mahanon stared at Solas, dumbfounded. "All four guards."

"Vhenan," Solas protested, grimacing as if hearing the story caused him pain. "Please."

"These were Templars?" Deshanna eyed him, something akin to hope in her gaze, awaiting his answer.

Solas sighed. "Yes, lethallan. It is not a moment I am proud of. I lost control and struck out to defend Ellana."

"And was that a challenge for you?" Mahanon asked, edging forward and dropping his voice in a near-whisper. "How many could you defend against? What limits do you have with the Veil in place?"

Solas shook his head, lips twisting with displeasure. "It was not a challenge, but in truth I do not know the extent of my abilities with the Veil in place. I have spent most of my time since waking hiding who I truly am and what I can do. I was still weak when I joined the Inquisition." He closed his eyes, shoulders slouching slightly. "I am still regaining strength."

"Then we should test your limits," Mahanon suggested, smirking. His eyes were bright with eagerness.

"Mahanon," Ellana scolded him even as she grinned. She knew Mahanon was remembering duels with their father where they practiced hurling fireballs and lightning, then putting out the fires they started with blasts of ice magic. Remembering those pleasant days watching her father and brother cast stirred the ache of loss within her but Ellana swallowed it down.

"I would pass any test you devised," Solas replied blankly, his eyes and mouth set hard with annoyance. "But I would prefer not to waste time on such frivolities."

"You truly are Fen'Harel?" Deshanna asked, her voice breathless. "The Dread Wolf who locked away the Creators?"

"They were Evanuris, not divine creators," Solas corrected her gently. "But I am Fen'Harel and I will see the People restored." He turned slightly, eyes locking with Ellana. The tenderness she saw in his face made her body flush with warmth despite the chill in the autumn air, remembering the night before. "I must ensure the world is right for my own child."

Deshanna drew in a deep breath. "I cannot believe I will say this then, but clan Lavellan is with you…" She made a face, somewhere between baffled and amused. "…Dread Wolf. Lana supports you and we owe her our lives." Her gaze was solemn. "We do not forget our debts."

"Nor I," Solas told her with an exaggerated nod of respect. "I owe the People a great deal and I intend to see them through the chaos to come." Something in his tone made Ellana tense, her heart suddenly lurching into her throat. A second later Solas began again, the words heavier this time. "I doubt I will be able to destroy the Veil before my child is born and there will soon be fighting that will be too dangerous for Ellana to accompany me—"

"You do not get to leave me here, Solas," Ellana cut in, her hands clenching into fists. "I can still help you. I can still fight."

Solas swallowed, his throat bobbing as he continued staring at Deshanna and Mahanon, as if Ellana hadn't spoken. "I would request you accept her into your clan along with a few of my warriors over the winter. I will—"

"Fenedhis, Solas," Ellana cursed, biting out the words. "I'm sitting right here and I refuse to let you go off risking your life without me."

Deshanna and Mahanon looked between the couple, tense though they remained silent. Somewhere behind them, closer to the aravels, one of the halla bleated and a child practiced the hunter's birdcall whistle. Ellana realized she had to pee again as the baby wriggled and tapped on her bladder, but she ignored the urge, too focused on Solas.

"Where I must go will not be safe for you, vhenan," Solas said, at last meeting her eye. "There will be Elvhen magic. It could destabilize the Anchor."

"The Anchor is fine," Ellana insisted, lifting her left hand to open and close it, showing the pale palm. "You worry too much, emma lath."

"And you do not worry enough," he said, frowning with a sad gleam in his blue eyes that made Ellana feel weak-limbed with something akin to dread.

"Lana," Mahanon said, clearing his voice and cringing when both she and Solas whipped around to stare at him. "Solas has a point. Battlefields are no place for expectant mothers." He shot a nervous glance at Solas then, licking his lips. "Forgive me…hahren…how am I to address you?"

Solas smiled. "I was Solas first, long before I had any other names or titles." He directed the words to Deshanna as well, tilting his head slightly. "For clan Lavellan I should like to be just Solas." Pausing a moment with a thoughtful expression, he added, "I suppose lethallin is correct, though one day I hope to know you all as falon."

Mahanon smiled back. "I would like that as well."

As her lover and her brother continued bonding in front of her, Ellana crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, letting out a disgusted noise. "Creators, you two are impossible." She looked to Deshanna, ready to beg. "Hahren, could you please talk some sense into Solas? I cannot stay here while he fights alone. Our child won't come until the spring and the first snow hasn't even fallen yet."

Deshanna's regretful expression told Ellana before the older woman had even opened her mouth that she wouldn't like what she had to say. "Lana, the days will fly by and travel in winter is difficult, if not impossible. If you leave the clan now you are unlikely to return to us before spring and by then it will be too late. You could find yourself giving birth along the side of the road with no healer and only warriors at your side who have never held an infant, let alone birthed one."

Solas frowned briefly and Ellana knew he was thinking of Lyris and Mathrel, though he didn't refute her Keeper.

"No," Ellana grumbled. "I don't care what any of you say, I won't sit back just because I'm pregnant." She gnashed her teeth, glaring at Solas. "You need the Anchor."

"Not for my plans this winter," Solas said, keeping his explanation vague though Ellana knew he had a sizable enough force now that he could ford into the eluvian networks to find the mirror leading to the prison construct he'd created long ago for the Forgotten Ones. Solas had been cagey in his explanations to her, but Ellana guessed it was as dangerous as it sounded. Imprisoned or not, the Forgotten Ones had been enough to give multiple Evanuris pause in Elvhenan from what Ellana understood of her people's legends and what she'd been able to learn secondhand through Solas. What she did know was that Solas could not remove the Veil without being certain both the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones would not be released in the process.

"We can send the clan an eluvian," Ellana suggested. "Then I can return here quickly from Hellathen Hamin. I won't be stuck traveling in the spring or the depths of winter."

Now she saw she'd made him hesitate, a crease forming between his brows as he considered. Finally he looked to Mahanon and Deshanna again. "Would you be willing to take on an Elvhen mirror? It is a magical device that allows instant travel between locations. It would allow Ellana to—"

"Could we use it to reach you?" Mahanon interrupted, arching an eyebrow. "Or to flee if we were attacked?"

"Yes," Solas replied with a nod. "I can teach you how to activate it. But securing and transporting one may prove difficult and it will take weeks."

Deshanna gave a shrug. "I don't see why not. It sounds like a wonderful tool to have."

"Great," Ellana said, squirming slightly as her bladder again reminded her it was full. "Now we don't have to argue about whether I'm staying. I'll return when I'm closer to my time." Her eyes widened as she realized an eluvian meant she could make visits any time she wanted. Grinning, she said to Mahanon, "I'll be able to—"

With a little huff, Solas interrupted her. "Vhenan, please, you must see reason and remain with your clan. With an eluvian I can return frequently, but if I cannot secure one and get it here before the snow impairs travel you will have no way to return before spring."

"No," Ellana grumbled, scowling. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Hardheaded as our father," Mahanon said with a snort, anger darkening his hazel eyes. "You put everyone above yourself, just like he did, Lana. But you can't do that anymore, not when you're carrying a child."

"Thank you," Solas told Mahanon.

The sight of them agreeing with each other—and Deshanna frowning at her too—made Ellana groan. "The answer is still no. There's plenty of time yet." Unable to ignore her bladder anymore, Ellana got to her feet with a grunt.

"Vhenan?" Solas asked, rising as well, graceful despite the sudden motion. "Are you—"

"I'm fine," she grumbled, irritated as she noted both Deshanna and her brother wore concerned expressions at her sudden departure. "Just going to find a tree, as usual." She half expected Solas to insist on accompanying her and felt her shoulder slouch with relief when she saw him sit back down on the halla hides.

He's only going to worry more as time goes on, the nagging voice in her head scolded her. It was true, and she knew he did it out of love, but she had to stay with him as long as possible. The dream she'd had with Morrigan returned to her mind, the worm of distrust writhing in her chest with a flutter of dread. What if the moment she was sequestered with her clan, where she couldn't object or fight him on it, Solas destroyed the Veil and began a bloody genocidal war?

She wanted to trust he would never do such a thing without clearing it with her as their only choice. She wanted to believe that he wouldn't lie to her—hadn't lied to her since revealing who and what he truly was—but Morrigan's seed of doubt remained strong within her, ready to sprout. He might love her, their child, and the People with every fiber of his being, but how far would he go to restore the Fade and its magic? How much would he sacrifice? He had, after all, sacrificed the Fade when he created the Veil, and he'd loved it and the spirits inhabiting it too. It hadn't been all that long ago when he'd cagily considered her as an acceptable, if miserable and unforgivable, loss.

Pushing that thought aside, Ellana marched into the trees. After finding a suitably sheltered spot and relieving herself, Ellana stood and refastened all of her clothing, but as she tightened her belt she heard a high-pitched chime. It rang in pulses, distinct and growing louder for a few beats and then quieting again. A moment later it chimed again, restarting the process.

Ellana located the source of the sound and her jaw fell open, realizing it was the crystal Dorian had given her, chiming away inside the leather pouch she wore on her belt. Opening the pouch, she grabbed out the crystal. It was white and opaque when normally it was translucent. It tingled in her hand, alive with magic.

When she squeezed it tightly the chiming ceased and the golden autumn forest around her fell abruptly silent for an instant then Dorian's voice rang out, sounding tinny and distant. "Hello? Ellana?"

"Dorian?" she asked and then grinned, laughing. "I can't believe this."

His snort carried well through whatever magic the crystal used and she could easily imagine the way his nose would wrinkle at her. "Really? You've fought an ancient darkspawn magister, met a murdered elven goddess residing inside a witch, traveled through time, walked in the Fade—twice—and found a Titan in the Deep Roads, but this is what you can't believe? Long-distance communication using magic?" He laughed and Ellana grinned at the sound, finding it contagious even if it was a bit odd to be standing beside the bush she'd just piddled by, talking to a crystal like a crazy woman.

"I always knew you Southerners were backward," Dorian went on. "But really, old girl, I think the cold down there must really be getting to you. Are you all right? Did I catch you at a bad time? I hope the shock of using the crystal doesn't send you into labor."

Shaking her head, even though she knew Dorian would never see it, Ellana chuckled. "I'm fine, Dorian, and this is actually perfect timing."

"I see," he said, letting the words trail off before adding, "…and is your bald apostate lover in earshot?"

Frowning to herself, Ellana surveyed the woods, finding them as empty as she'd expected. "Actually no, Solas is not with me at the moment." She walked further into the forest as she spoke, keeping her voice quiet. Leaves crunched underfoot but her breath didn't fog in front of her yet.

"Are you alone? Can we speak freely?" Dorian asked, his tinny voice still managing to carry a note of urgency.

"I'm alone," she said. "What's the matter? Has something happened?"

"You could certainly say that, yes," Dorian grumbled. "I take it you don't know. Is he keeping you locked up somewhere? I should think you'd have heard by now."

"No," she said, letting irritation make the single word sharp. "I'm with my clan." She winced, wondering if revealing that was a good idea. Solas wouldn't approve, but she trusted Dorian wholeheartedly. Leaning her back against the white trunk of a mature aspen, she said, "I know both the Chantry and the Inquisition want to get their hands on Solas and I, but I've been traveling a lot." And not socializing with humans, she thought. "I haven't had a chance to catch much in the way of news," she admitted.

"Well," Dorian said with a sniff. "If you had you'd know my homeland is virtually in tatters. Since the summer, actually…come to think of it, this all started right around the time you and our esteemed Fade expert—or whatever he really is—decided to run off. It's been nonstop riots and mayhem by elves and slaves, with a healthy dose of assassinations and plundering of rare and dangerous magical artifacts." He paused for emphasis. "Ancient elven artifacts."

Already Ellana's heart had started thumping against her ribs. She knew very little of what Solas was doing in Tevinter, but she knew the foci he'd had his agent named Zevanni locate and bring to him had been based in Tevinter. As far as Ellana knew, she still was. The orb itself Solas had left at Hellathen Hamin, guarded as the prized possession of his Elvhen warriors. Solas had warned her to stay clear of it repeatedly, like a father trying to shepherd a fearless child from falling into the campfire. They'd left shortly after he obtained it from Zevanni and Ellana was grateful to get away from it—she hadn't told Solas but being within about fifty meters of it always made her left hand sting.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ellana said, her voice tight. She coughed to clear it. "Are you all right? You haven't been hurt?"

"I'm fine—for now," he answered, sounding glum through his usual sarcasm. "But just last week some elf ruffian tried to jump me and put a knife through my back. So it seems anyone with a title is fair game to these cretins, even the ones like myself calling for reform and abolishment of slavery."

Ellana sighed, closing her eyes as she again remembered Solas' story of how his own rebellion had killed his parents and destroyed his village. Was history doomed to repeat itself without end?

"I'm just glad you're okay," Ellana said, the words shaky.

"I'm not the one you should be most worried about," Dorian told her ominously. "Because you see, a supply caravan coming into Minrathous a few weeks back was attacked by a bunch of organized elven bandits. Most of the bandits escaped, but two were captured alive and, unfortunately for them, healthy enough for torture. When my illustrious colleagues in the Magisterium finally broke the poor bastards they told us they were Dalish."

Still clutching the crystal, but now with a sweaty palm, Ellana hugged herself, biting her lip. "Dalish?" she parroted, trying to sound surprised.

"Yes, as in your people." He made a little high-pitched noise through his nose. "Did I mention they were barefaced, Ellana? But that's not the best part of it all. They spouted gibberish about serving the Dread Wolf."

"Dorian, please," she said, her voice shaking as she shivered. Her mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse for whatever clan had attacked in Fen'Harel's name. Had it been on Solas' specific orders, too?

"Please, what exactly?" Dorian asked, sounding irritated. "Please don't point out the obvious connections?"

"I cannot control what other Dalish clans do or think, Dorian," she snapped, losing her patience at his sharp tone.

"Yes," Dorian growled. "Just as I could not control the fanatic beliefs of my countrymen in the Venatori—but I did join the Inquisition to fight them and I went to great trouble warning you about it all."

His words hit her like a slap across the face, making her cringe. The baby kicked, fluttering inside her, as if it'd felt the emotional impact through her.

"I know you'll deny it, but I'm certain you're close with these elven fanatics' leader. I'm hoping you have some leverage with that bald son of a bitch as well. Do my homeland and myself a favor, Ellana, and see if you can get him to scale back the chaos a bit, yes?"

"I'll…" She drew in a quavering breath. "…see what I can do." Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt her stomach clench. You just admitted to all of it, a panicked voice in her head shouted.

"The caravan had mostly innocent traders bringing goods and lyrium into Minrathous," Dorian said, anger deepening his voice. "They weren't slavers. Tell Solas that."

Lyrium. Of course Solas would attack the lyrium trade to disrupt Tevinter. She'd never seen him use it and at least within Ellana's own clan it wasn't used by the mages because they avoided anything addictive that could only be obtained by trading with humans—save perhaps alcohol. All Dalish clans knew they had to be ready to disappear into the wilderness, to survive on their wits and knowledge of the forest. Lyrium addictions made that difficult or impossible.

"I will," she murmured, grimacing. Solas wouldn't stop the attacks no matter what she told him. The chaos in Tevinter now was only a shadow of what it would be when the Veil came down and demons poured out from the sky. She felt queasy, imagining herself behind the wards somewhere safe underground as Dorian and all of her friends fought for their lives against endless hordes of demons. How was it different from what she'd seen at Redcliffe, minus Corypheus and the red lyrium?

"Good," Dorian said with a huff. "Because you know I'm not the only one making these connections, Ellana. Her holiness will be hearing of the chaos here and I'm sure the details about barefaced Dalish serving Fen'Harel won't slip her notice. Underneath that horrendous hat they make her wear she's a brilliant woman and with Leliana unofficially leading the Inquisition now they'll—"

"Unofficially?" Ellana interrupted. "Why wouldn't she become Inquisitor since I'm gone?"

"Because they still hope you'll return," Dorian said. "They're under the impression that bald hobo of yours has you enchanted or some rubbish. They were also rather fond of saying that you'll come to your senses once you're finished…" He trailed off and made a grunting noise that Ellana interpreted as embarrassment. "Gestating. I gather Orlesians believe women in a most delicate condition are prone to bouts of madness. Sounds positively delightful, but I told them it was dribble."

Despite the anxiety gnawing at her insides, Ellana laughed. "I miss you, Dorian," she admitted, her voice shaking. Thinking again of Redcliffe brought stinging tears to her eyes and Ellana choked on the lump swelling in her throat.

"What is that? Are you crying?" Dorian asked, flustered. "Stop that right this instant or I'll be forced to—"

Solas' voice cut through the air, "Vhenan?"

Startled, Ellana dropped the crystal with a yelp. It fell into the leaf litter with a clatter against the crisp leaves. Dorian's voice had gone silent, the connection severed as soon as she released it from her sweat-slimed palm. Twisting to look back toward camp, Ellana saw Solas striding through the underbrush, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

"Vhenan? I heard voices."

She hesitated only an instant before stooping and grabbing the crystal. "It was Dorian." Watching his face for a reaction, she went on, "He told me barefaced Dalish elves are attacking lyrium caravans going to Minrathous."

Solas stared at her, stoic and unblinking. The lacquered wolf jawbone against his tunic stood out dark in the growing shadows of evening. Finally he dipped his chin. "I am not surprised."

"But did you order it?" Ellana asked, frowning.

Solas tilted his head slightly, his smile dry and humorless. "Vhenan, you must not trouble yourself with—"

She left the aspen tree, whipping around to face him directly, taking an angry step toward him and slashing with a violent motion of one hand. "Answer the question. Did you order them to attack caravans of lyrium? Are elven assassins attacking magisters on your orders too?"

Despite her rage Solas hadn't flinched or even blinked. A cold tremor rippled through Ellana at the sight of him: cold and regal—and alien. Where was the man who just that morning when they woke had felt over her belly, his eyes lit by wonder as he waited for their child to kick? This was not Solas—it was Fen'Harel.

"It was by your order," Ellana said, reading his silence. "All of it."

Solas' jaw clenched and he broke eye contact, staring off into the trees to his right. "The humans have an expression. One cannot make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."

"A few," Ellana repeated, curling her lip in a snarl. "How many does the Dread Wolf consider a few?" Taking another few steps closer to him, Ellana tried to keep herself calm but knew her face was bright red with rage. She no longer felt the autumn chill, only the blaze of anger. "Dorian told me he was attacked. Are you assassinating our friends now, Fen'Harel?"

His blue eyes slid to her and narrowed, his own anger pinching his lips together in a hard line. "No, I would not do that."

"But if they die in the chaos, that's an acceptable loss, isn't it?" Ellana asked, baring her teeth.

Solas shook his head. "You are naïve if you believed it was possible to accomplish our goals without chaos and death. It is inevitable that some who are dear to us will be lost."

"As long as they're not elven," Ellana retorted and then her hands clenched into fists. "Or is it Elvhen? My people and the city elves are just pawns in a game of chess."

Solas' nostrils flared, his jaw squared. A muscle feathered in his temple. "Ellana," he growled. "Please. You are being unreasonable."

"And you are harellan," she snapped. He flinched at the word, taking a step backward. Immediately Ellana's stomach dropped as horror stole her breath. Her head swam, pounding as she struggled to compose herself. "I'm sorry," she said, her cheeks burning with shame. "That was unfair. I didn't mean it."

"You are upset," Solas agreed, his voice cold and his blue eyes steely. "But this is what must be done. For the world to be remade there must be sacrifice." He turned his head, staring off into the trees and drawing in a deep breath. "Your people and the city elves outnumber the Elvhen many times over, but it is the Elvhen who must lead them. It is the Elvhen who understand how to fight best with magic, and that is how the chaos will be won when the Veil is gone. They must be preserved. I do not take pleasure in this, but it is the hard truth."

Closing his eyes, his shoulders slumped, the anger draining from him visibly. "The blame is mine. Let the blood be on my hands, vhenan. I will gladly pay for it with my own life to see you safe and the People saved."

Icy, invisible hands reached out to strangle her. "Solas," she breathed, almost choking on his name. "Are you saying destroying the Veil will kill you?"

"In truth I do not know," he admitted, his small smile humorless and hard. "But I did not enter uthenera willingly. I was not weary of life—creating the Veil nearly killed me. Destroying it should not prove as taxing, but I may not be strong enough to accomplish it and reshape the restored world."

"There must be another way," Ellana said, her heart pounding, aching with each beat. "Please." She reached out to touch him, to grab his hands and squeeze them as if to reassure herself he wasn't about to vanish, but Solas withdrew a step and shook his head.

"Forgive me," he said. "I should not have told you this." The small smile returned to his lips, distant and wan. "I may have worried you needlessly. As I said, I do not know with certainty what will be required of me in the path ahead. What I do know is that the People must survive it and emerge victorious." Real warmth touched his expression now, softening it. "And you and our child will endure. That is all that matters, vhenan."

"The cost is too high," Ellana protested, her words shrill with desperation. "Please—what if you only removed a small part of the Veil? What if we could create an elven homeland, like the Dales, where the Fade and the waking world are one?" At his surprised look Ellana plunged on. "We could spare Thedas the chaos and save the other races. The humans would never claim our lands because they fear the Fade. Once we stabilized the tear there would be peace, and managing a nation instead of a continent has to be easier for you."

Solas' brow furrowed. "Where have you gotten these ideas?"

Ellana shut her mouth, pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth as if she could hold back the answer or deny it. What had Morrigan said? She feared meeting the Dread Wolf directly and hoped to manipulate him. If Solas knew where this plan came from, would he reject it based on that alone? No, she thought. He could be stubborn, but Solas was never one to deny reason.

"Morrigan visited me in a dream," she admitted. "She is Mythal's new vessel."

"I see," Solas said and grunted with interest. He frowned and evaded her gaze. "I must consider this."

Ellana was about to speak again when she heard Deshanna's voice echoing from the trees, calling for them both. Solas sighed. "Perhaps we can discuss this later?"

Feeling dazed, Ellana nodded. One hand lay over her abdomen, as if to comfort the baby, though the motion was more about reassuring herself. Her thoughts spun as Solas walked with her, his hand at the small of her back to usher her forward. Did he really believe he would die destroying the Veil? The thought of enduring such a loss made her feel as though she couldn't breathe, as if a rift had opened inside her somewhere and was sucking her into its dark, crushing depths. She pushed the possibility aside, refusing to give it credence.

Early the next morning clan Lavellan bid them goodbye, gathering with gifts of food, supplies, weapons, and tools. Warm smiles surrounded Solas and he knew without the Keeper telling him that she'd not shared his identity with most of her clan. If they'd known he was Fen'Harel he doubted they'd be smiling as they gave out their finest knives, staffs, ironbark, and enchanted trinkets as gifts.

Yet, despite Solas' inward doubt, he found the Keeper and her First, Mahanon, smiling and friendly as they and a few others closest to Ellana escorted them to the rope bridge over the river. Ellana's sister-in-law, Rinaya, carried her niece Deya in her arms as the group walked. Solas caught the baby smiling at him often, her gap-toothed grin innocent and contagious. He couldn't resist returning her smile, though grief made him heavy and hollow inside, unable to stop himself from wondering if he would live to see his own child grow to Deya's size.

At the rope bridge Solas sent Abelas and the arcane warriors across while he lingered with Ellana, her family, and the members of her clan who'd walked with them from the clearing. He noted both Mathrel and Lyris had almost painful expressions on their face at the sight of Deya and their postures seemed hunched with emotion. Seeing the clan's children reminded them of course of their own goals and what they'd lost so long ago.

"I really wish you would stay, Lana," Mahanon told Ellana as they embraced. "You would be safe here and we would happily care for you and your little one."

"I know," she said, her lips trembling as she smiled. "But I must see this through." Solas didn't miss the quick side-glance she shot him. Learning about his chaos-causing activities in Tevinter had shaken her faith in him and Solas wanted to curse Dorian for it, though he knew he had only himself to blame. Surely Ellana could see the necessity of what he was doing, it'd only been the surprise of learning of it from someone else that'd bothered her.

Ashani, Ellana's mother, was next to enfold her in a hug. "You must return in time for the little one's birth," she exclaimed, sniffing as she struggled to withhold her own tears.

"I will, mamae. I promise."

Solas struggled with himself, refusing to add to her family's ongoing admonishments that she should be staying here. He watched Lyris and Mathrel across the river, their eyes still on Mahanon's daughter. Then his gaze moved to Abelas and the other sentinels. Most of them milled about, their boredom with this domestic scene obvious in their crossed arms and slack expressions. But Abelas' attention was on Ellana, following her as she moved to embrace Rinaya and Deya next.

"We will have to practice casting techniques together when you return," Mahanon said, drawing Solas' attention back to this side of the river. Mahanon flashed a friendly smile, though his green-brown eyes held a spark of wariness. "Maybe you can teach my daughter someday," he added, chuckling.

"I would be delighted," Solas replied honestly, a broad smile spreading over his lips as he looked to Rinaya and Deya standing nearby. "On both counts."

"We will eagerly await this mirror," Deshanna said then, somber as she addressed him. "But should you require us sooner, lethallin, you have only to send word." Looking to Ellana, she smiled. "And you as well, da'len."

Ellana's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Thank you."

Abruptly Solas registered footsteps and then the croaking, wet cough from behind him. Before turning around he knew it was Negan, the old hunter they'd met upon first arriving and guilt stabbed through him. Disease and aging were ailments he'd brought to the People, not humans or the other races. Yet Negan looked comfortable despite the racking cough and he smiled as he approached their group, wearing scout armor and with his bow slung over his shoulder. His granddaughter, Nesa, skipped along behind him, her braided hair bouncing on her shoulders. Further behind the young girl Solas also saw other hunters, including Lerand and his older brother, Samhel, lingering nearby to catch final glimpses of clan Lavellan's most famous member…and the strange apostate she'd brought with her.

"Brother," Deshanna greeted Negan, her eyes dark with concern. "Are you well this morning?"

"As well as can be expected when I must keep up with this one," he said motioning to his bouncy granddaughter.

Nesa giggled, the quiver of smaller arrows on her back clattering woodenly as she hopped, alternating between one and two feet. "I'm going extra slow for you, granddad."

"As you say," Negan said, chuckling before he nodded toward Ellana. "I wanted to say goodbye, da'len."

The croak in his words had nothing to do now with his cough and Solas could see the whole group—minus Nesa and the baby who hadn't grasped the truth yet—reacting with restrained grief as they faced the inevitable. Ellana's lips twisted, caught between a smile and a frown. When she blinked tears spilled from her cheeks and she moved to embrace the old man.

Solas closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, accepting this as yet another reminder of his crimes. He knew of blood magic spells that could extend Negan's life, curing his illness for a time, but casting them would inhibit his own connection to the Fade. Blood magic was traditional magic's antithesis, strengthening the physical world and repelling the Fade. Solas had studied it but had only cast it once while sealing away the Forgotten Ones. Even in Elvhenan Dreamers had abhorred blood magic because it made altering the Fade and the waking world difficult and so much of what they did required the Fade to be malleable.

He could have saved Negan and had known that from first meeting the old man, yet doing so jeopardized his other goals. Mentioning the spell or offering to teach it to Deshanna and Mahanon would only garner their fear and scorn. Resolving to say nothing, he bowed his head, accepting the old man's inevitable death as just another burden on his conscience.

Harellan, Ellana had said and the word stung him even as just a memory. Trickster. Traitor to the People. He knew the clans he'd recruited had only fallen in line because Ellana stood at his side and because Mythal—Morrigan now, apparently—had mysteriously lent her support. Even Ellana's Keeper and brother wouldn't have been as friendly had they not also had Mythal's word to reassure them. The Dalish might never trust him, and Solas might never quite smother his own bitterness toward them for remembering him and everything else from Elvhenan so wrongly, but he would still fight for them. He owed it to them for sundering them from the Fade, for robbing them of their immortality and condemning their whole race to slavery and servitude for millennia.

But most of all, he owed it to Ellana. If he didn't survive the coming chaos she needed her clan to comfort her and for all the faults of the Dalish, clan Lavellan would be an ideal place for his own child to be born and grow.

With their farewells said, Solas followed Ellana across the rope bridge to rejoin the sentinels and the arcane warriors for the long walk toward the road again. They traveled mostly in silence for the first hour, moving with little stealth due to the constant faint clink of the Elvhen warriors' armor. Ellana walked with Arina, the rogue sentinel, ensuring their party evaded any Dalish snares they encountered. Solas followed close behind them both with Lyris and Mathrel trailing him. Abelas and the other sentinels took rear position. The early morning forest, resplendent in the vermillion and saffron hues of autumn, rang with the cheery cries of birds and Solas could almost forget that he wasn't a youth again, wandering the wilds of Elvhenan when the forests had been alive with the songs of spirits as well as birds. In those days the entire world had been alive with song.

And then, as they neared the road, Ellana suddenly broke the quiet by glancing over her shoulder and asking him, "Tell me about Felassan."

He froze, staring at her. "What?"

She clung to the rough gray bark of a young pine tree that she'd been using as leverage while they scaled the latest hill. Breathing a little fast, she looked again over her shoulder and repeated her question. "Tell me about Felassan."

"The slow arrow of the Dalish legend?" he asked, brow furrowing. "I should think you would know the tale better than I."

"No," she said, facing forward now. "The elven man who served you."

His throat suddenly seemed to close. Lyris and Mathrel had halted just a few paces downhill from him, the leaves still crackling under their feet. The rogue, Arina, had stopped further up, twisting at the waist to watch and listen.

Keeping his voice quiet, Solas said, "Perhaps we might discuss this later?"

She was silent and motionless for a long, tense moment. Then, slowly, she turned to face him, still gripping the pine tree trunk with one hand. Leaves rustled under her feet. Her shoulders appeared bunched with tension as she glared at him. "Did you kill Flemeth?"

He blinked, feeling his own body tense with alarm, his skin prickling. What is going on here? Heat lashed through him before he swallowed, walling it off. Unable to come up with a convincing half-truth or diversion on so short a notice, Solas tried to dodge. "We can discuss this later."

Her green eyes narrowed, her mouth quirking between a deadpan neutral and a steely frown. Then Ellana nodded to him, her jaw clenching. "Fen'Harel enansal," she growled and pivoted away from him, resuming the hike uphill.

Arina scrambled upward as well, her feet skidding on slick leaves, but not before Solas caught the slight twitch of the rogue's lips as she smirked.

Looking behind him quickly, Solas found Abelas watching the scene with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. Mathrel and Lyris wore baffled expressions. Solas shot them each an individual glance, searching their reactions, but both arcane warriors gave a single shake of their heads. They hadn't revealed anything to Ellana. Solas had no reason to doubt either of them, and Abelas wouldn't know about Felassan and to Solas' knowledge hadn't known in what form Mythal endured.

But Morrigan, who'd stayed in Empress Celene's court and had doubtless been exposed to Briala, would certainly have had opportunity to learn of both deaths. Yet it wasn't the witch pulling the strings here.

Mythal. With his hands clenching into fists, Solas started uphill again, scowling to himself. What are you up to?

Next Chapter

"Still burping up your bits?" Sera asked, grinning. "You look it now." She traced a half-circle over her own slender navel with both hands, as if rubbing Ellana's visibly rounded belly. "Like knocked up, not fat, I mean."

As her other Inquisition companions sniggered and the elves shifted uneasily, Ellana shook her head, chuckling dryly as she felt a blush steal over her cheeks. "Thank you for that, Sera. Very touching."

"Course," Sera said, still grinning. "Anytime, yeah? Still betting it's a girl."