A/N: So now the tables have turned, as you can tell by this chapter's title. Solas is the one with the secrets, now. The Angst train is here in a big way for a while, but don't worry, it won't last for long. We still have a long way to go...

Nineteen

Ellana Doesn't Know

This time when Ellana saw the golden grasses of the Exalted Plains, strewn here and there with grayish boulders, she knew at once this wasn't real. She was dreaming and most likely Morrigan would soon join her. Still, she drew in a deep breath as she stared out at the wild halla and tried to keep her mind empty of doubt or worry. The sun above warmed her skin, its glare bathing the world in a brilliant gold.

When she heard and sensed a presence nearby, Ellana didn't turn quickly to look. "Fancy meeting you here, Lady Lavellan," Morrigan's voice spoke from behind her.

"Lady Morrigan," Ellana answered in the same vein, casting a slow look over her right shoulder to see the black-haired witch in the shadowed gap between the boulders. "Still wishing I'd been the one to drink from the Well of Sorrows?"

Morrigan let out a dry, humorless laugh. Her feet rustled against the grass and gravel crunched underfoot as she strode to stand beside the boulder Ellana sat upon. "More than you know," she admitted, a mild frown creasing her features. "But I am content, for now." Her disconcerting golden eyes slid to Ellana with a sly look. "You, however, must be shaken by what you've learned of your lover. Tell me, do you find yourself wondering if you can trust him?"

Clenching her jaw, Ellana watched the grazing halla and ignored Morrigan's needling question. Yet she couldn't stop the cold fear twisting within her, knowing the witch was right. Her bare toes scratched against the boulder she sat on as she shifted her position, wafting at a bit of green ether drifting upward from Morrigan's direction. "Do you shape this place, or does it draw from me?" Ellana asked. "Or is it Mythal?"

Morrigan's nose wrinkled as she smirked with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "`Tis a mixture of all three," she replied with a little huff. "But we have little time for idle questions. I have a proposition for you."

Ellana closed her eyes, willing herself to turn Morrigan away, to refuse to listen to her, but the hot spark of her conscience refused to dim enough for her to do it. Over the past two weeks Ellana had gradually questioned Solas about Felassan, his activities in Tevinter, and whether the idea Morrigan had shared with her about an elven homeland where the Fade and the mortal realm were one could work. But Solas often answered evasively or diverted her by changing the subject or launching into a complex magical explanation that she couldn't quite grasp without being a mage herself.

Frustrated, she'd tried asking Lyris and Mathrel whenever Solas was out of earshot with Abelas and the sentinels, but the arcane warriors were even worse than her lover. All they did was shrug or tell her not to worry about the past or the nuances of magic. Not for the first time since leaving the Inquisition, Ellana realized she was not leading these elves, but worse was the crushing weight of knowing she was also apart from them. As much as she'd grown to enjoy Lyris—the female warrior was easy to talk to and had helpful tips regarding her pregnancy having once been a mother herself—both she and her husband were loyal to Solas to a fault. Any chance Ellana had of learning more about Solas from an outside source evaporated as she realized Lyris and Mathrel would never talk. Worse, she sensed Solas knew she was fishing for information from the others, which meant the warriors told him of it.

Because Ellana often walked with Arina, the sentinel rogue, she'd started striking up conversations with her as well, hoping to learn something eventually. But Solas was rarely out of earshot while they traveled and Arina always seemed wary and tightlipped, though Ellana had started to get the rogue to discuss what life had been like before the Veil, when she served Mythal. Now she wondered if Arina or any of the sentinels had dreams with Morrigan in them too. Was it possible for Morrigan, with Mythal's help, to let multiple dreamers commune with one another in the security of the same dream?

"I'm listening," Ellana said finally to Morrigan.

With a slight upward turn of her lips that wasn't quite a smile, Morrigan strode around the front of Ellana's boulder. She faced the plain below with its sedate halla, grazing in the sea of golden grasses, and raised her left hand skyward in the same gesture Ellana used with the Anchor. "What if I told you, Inquisitor, that Fen'Harel will never find a way to spare you from the power of his own Anchor? Not for lack of trying, of course. Yet the problem remains."

Morrigan's palm glowed blue-green and the magical energy glowed, extending down to her elbow until it enveloped the whole forearm in color. Where she pointed, in the gold-white sky around the sun, the air thrummed and darkened as it turned greenish. Ellana winced and flexed her own left hand as she heard the crackling sound of the Anchor—but it came from Morrigan, not herself. She gnashed her teeth, trying to ignore the sudden cold sweat that broke out over her skin.

With a flourish, Morrigan tore her hand downward and the dull crack of a rift opening echoed over the boulders. The halla in the plains lifted their heads and bleated with alarm, scattering as the sky above them tore open. Ether from the Fade dripped and swirled, bright and dark greens intermixed, casting a shadow over the land below. No demons spewed from it, though Ellana's body still tensed and she found herself fumbling for the bow slung over her shoulder.

"What are you doing, Morrigan?" Ellana asked as she heaved herself to her feet, bow in hand and her eyes on what she knew was a fake rift. They were already in the Fade, dreaming. Nothing could harm them here…well, except powerful Dreamers like Solas. ...And demons.

"I am refreshing your memory," Morrigan answered, smirking at Ellana over her shoulder. "Closing rifts was your specialty, was it not? But what I need—what Mythal needs—is for you to open one." She gestured to the plains. "In the Dales. Some secluded spot where no one will care enough to stop you. The Emerald Graves perhaps."

Ellana frowned. "Solas would never agree to travel that far from the eluvian network now that we've returned to Hellathen Hamin." She didn't add that Solas was about to launch an offensive into the Crossroads, seeking the eluvian that led to the Forgotten Ones' prison. Despite agreeing to listen to Morrigan—and Mythal through her—Ellana wasn't about to feed the witch any information that would betray her lover.

"I did not suggest that he would, Lady Lavellan," Morrigan said with a sly grin that narrowed her golden eyes. "I know that he intends to confront the Forgotten Ones in their prison."

Schooling her reaction, Ellana said nothing. Staring at the rift, she tried to admire the swirling greens of it and not consider that if this were real demons would've spilled from it in droves.

Morrigan's grin broadened even further. "I also know that you and Fen'Harel are not a harmonious couple at the moment."

Now Ellana shot the witch a glare. "Stop calling him Fen'Harel. His name is Solas."

"Truly?" Morrigan asked, her teeth white and sharp in her mouth. "How can you be so sure? After all, you have only known him a few years. Mythal whispers to me that your lover has been Fen'Harel, Dread Wolf, and Fen'Sa, the Lone Wolf for far longer than he was ever merely Solas. I suspect there were times he nearly forgot his given name."

Fen'Sa, she thought. Solas had a name she hadn't even heard before. Of course he does. Angry with her own lack of surprise, Ellana's hands clenched, one empty and the other holding her bow. Ellana growled, "Get to the point, Morrigan."

"Fen'Harel does not wish you to accompany him on his assault on the Forgotten Ones, but you refuse to be set aside," Morrigan said, sobering now. "I am suggesting you agree with him. Set him at ease."

"No," Ellana muttered immediately. "I want to see the prison and these Forgotten Ones for myself."

Morrigan smiled, the crafty gleam entering her eyes again. "But your lover has legitimate concerns, does he not?" She motioned to Ellana. "Every day you grow larger with his child and killing the Forgotten Ones, weakened though they must be after millennia trapped outside of the Fade and the Void, will require an enormous amount of magic—just the kind that will destabilize your Anchor."

Again Ellana averted her gaze from Morrigan, struggling to control her reaction. Pain ached in her throat and chest. Was Mythal even now going to shame her into letting Solas fight alone? No, she thought, Mythal is not here simply for concern over my wellbeing. Oddly, the realization helped ease the pain inside her. It reminded her of the truth: Mythal was trying to use her in some way. She had to be wary.

"Do not throw your life away, Lady Lavellan," Morrigan said, her voice soft now. "Or that of your child. I am not a mother, but Mythal was and she and I are in agreement on this. Fen'Harel is the last Evanuris—whole and untainted. Such heritage is worth saving and must live on if at all possible. Fen'Harel may not survive restoring the world, `tis true, but his child will doubtless be a powerful Dreamer and there are precious few remaining."

Intrigued despite herself, Ellana looked back to Morrigan with a raised brow. "How can you possibly know anything about my unborn child?"

Morrigan snorted. "Perhaps you should ask your lover about the Evanuris' children and how many of them were Dreamers."

"Solas has told me my people's legends were wrong on almost every count," Ellana murmured, shaking her head. "I know Falon'Din and Dirthamen were supposed to be brothers, sons of Mythal. And Andruil and Sylaise were sisters. Is any of this true?"

Morrigan smiled, closed-lipped. "More than you know. There is always truth in myths and legends, buried somewhere. Mythal and Elgar'nan did have many children, all of them Dreamers of great power, but Dirthamen was the only one of their children with power to equal theirs."

"And what of the other Evanuris?" Ellana asked, feeling over the bump of her abdomen absently. She'd known her child would almost certainly be a mage, but hearing Morrigan—or Mythal, rather—react with such confidence made her skin prickle with something akin to awe.

"Andruil and Sylaise were sisters, yes. Andruil had no children of her blood, but Sylaise and June had many children together. All of those children were Dreamers." Morrigan tossed her head slightly, knocking her hair from her eyes. "I suspect more than a few of those children survived the fall of Elvhenan. Their blood endures within the People…" She broke off with a sigh before adding, "…and within elf-blooded human descendants."

"I'm not an Evanuris," Ellana said, stating the obvious. "I'm not even a mage. I don't see any reason why my child would be born any more powerful than my father or my brother."

"I'm sure you know magic inheritance runs in families," Morrigan said. "I've touched your brother's dreams. I've seen his fears for his own daughter who is also gifted. When the Veil is removed, Mythal believes your brother and your niece may both be Dreamers themselves." She smirked. "And you, Inquisitor, navigate dreams so easily. Mythal whispers to me that she suspects it is more than just the Anchor on your hand that allows you to do so."

Ellana scowled. "I can't even cast a spark. Even my mother can do that."

"Then perhaps you have not tried the correct school of magic," she retorted, a note of impatience in her voice. "`Tis not important. I told you this so you could understand that you are important in the struggle to come and Mythal wishes to see you preserved and protected. If you go with Fen'Harel to kill the Forgotten Ones the Anchor is certain to destabilize." Her lips curled with distaste. "Fen'Harel will reclaim the Anchor then as well as your arm. Then he will have no further need of you."

Ellana glared. "You cannot seriously expect me to believe Solas would kill me."

"Do not be hasty, Inquisitor," Morrigan said, flashing a smile laced with irritation. "I said nothing about Fen'Harel harming you—though it is reassuring to see that you know he is certainly ruthless enough to consider it."

Anger burned inside Ellana. Baring her teeth, she growled, "Solas would never—"

"Calm yourself, Lady Lavellan," Morrigan cut her off with a cluck of her tongue. "I apologize if I have offended you, but you cannot deny you have doubts about your lover. And you should. He would gladly order the deaths of any friend if it furthered his cause substantially."

"I don't believe you," Ellana snarled. Looking to the fake Fade rift, twisting and gleaming in the sky, she gnashed her teeth with frustration.

"No?" Morrigan asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Mythal whispers to me that she's certain Fen'Harel knew of the plot to kill her. Yet he took no direct action to stop it as doing so would have significantly weakened his own position and cause."

The words impacted Ellana like a slap to the face. She gazed at Morrigan, wide-eyed and speechless, her body suddenly doused in cold sweat.

Morrigan nodded to her. "I can see this news shocks you. Did you know Mythal was like a mother to him? She trained him, honed his magic, and guided him. She protected him from the other Evanuris' wrath at every turn." A note of passion entered Morrigan's voice and the witch seemed to shake with the force of it. "When he emerged as an unkempt wildling who barely remembered how to speak elven, she defended him. When he returned to the wilds and attacked Andruil's hunters, Elgar'nan's armies, and Gilan'nain's warriors, she calmed their tempers on his behalf. When his agents caused riots across the empire, she discouraged their calls to unite against him. And when Elgar'nan and Falon'Din finally learned Mythal had sheltered Fen'Harel's armies in her lands, she was the one they punished."

"Solas couldn't have known," Ellana insisted, her mouth dry and her heart hammering in her throat.

"Couldn't he?" Morrigan asked and let out one short, bitter laugh. "Perhaps you do not comprehend how powerful he had become. His army was larger than Elgar'nan and Falon'Din's combined. He had more spies than Sylaise and Dirthamen. His artists and craftspeople rivaled June's. What's more, he held sway over the Forgotten Ones, something even Mythal does not understand."

"My Inquisition did not know of the Qunari threat," Ellana retorted. "And yet we rivaled kingdoms." She pinched her lips together, certain she must be right. "Solas would've stopped her death had he known."

Morrigan slashed a hand sideways, dismissively. "Regardless, Inquisitor. Whether you will believe it or not, Fen'Harel will use you. Doubtless, he weighs your worth now and sees it as invaluable. A most prized possession as you can serve him four times over—lover, mother of his child, Dalish recruiter, and wielder of the Anchor. But one day he will need to take the Anchor from you for himself and that is what My—" Morrigan grimaced and then rephrased it. "What I must prevent."

"And what makes you think I will help you?" Ellana asked, still clutching her bow in a death grip.

Morrigan sighed, looking suddenly exhausted. "Because, as you said, he will never agree to allow you to come here, to the Dales." She gestured to the fake Fade rift, silent and beautiful in the sky over the plains. "He will humor your questions and delay until one day—after you've given birth, I suspect—he will take the Anchor from you, whether it has destabilized or not. Then he will destroy the Veil and reshape the world, even though it will cost his life."

"No," Ellana said, shaking her head violently. The dream around her spun, the Fade rift blurring in her gaze. "No, you're wrong."

"Am I?" Morrigan asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Or is that denial I hear in your voice, Lady Lavellan? Fen'Harel has told you he may be called to give his life for the People, has he not? When he met with Mother he spoke of a price to be paid, and that he should be the one to pay it." Her jaw clenched, golden eyes narrowing. "He does not expect to survive. This is din'anshiral for Fen'Harel, Inquisitor. Surely you must see that."

"No," Ellana growled, sucking in a shaky breath. "No. You're wrong."

Morrigan smirked, though her golden eyes held the gloom of sadness in them. "Keep saying that, Inquisitor. Perhaps you may yet make it the truth—though `tis doubtful. The strength needed to reshape the world amidst the chaos Fen'Harel will release would require the power of all remaining Evanuris. He is but one. Such stress will inevitably kill his physical form."

Ellana turned away, her feet shuffling on the scratchy boulder beneath her. Her body shook, though she tried to keep her mind empty, refusing to fully consider the witch's words. "That won't happen," she whispered. "I'll convince him to take the Veil down in pieces. He's said it's possible, that he could do it. Why wouldn't he agree?"

"Many reasons, I suspect," Morrigan replied, apparently having no trouble hearing Ellana's whispering. "He will refuse to limit the People in favor of the humans and other races. Why should they share Thedas and restore only a small portion of it? More than that, he will oppose retaking the Dales because then we must fight on two fronts: against the chaos of demons and the Orlesians. More of the People will die. Also, Mythal whispers he will resent leaving the Veil intact anywhere as it is an unnatural state of being that he is determined to rectify. His love of the Fade demands he set things right."

Whipping around, Ellana shouted, "None of that is worth his life!"

Morrigan shrugged and laid a hand on her chest. "Not to me, or Mythal, or you, perhaps. But to Fen'Harel?" She raised a brow, challenge in her golden eyes. "You know the answer he will come to."

With her eyes burning with emotion, Ellana asked in a snarl, "What do you want?"

Now Morrigan smiled, somber and stern. "While Fen'Harel makes his assault on the Forgotten Ones, you will journey with Abelas and his sentinels into the Crossroads to an eluvian leading to ruins in the Dales. Abelas will guide you and protect you, but once you've chosen a secluded place, like this one…" Morrigan motioned to the fake Fade rift over the plains. "Open a rift as wide as you can and enter the Fade."

Ellana froze, her mouth going dry. "You want me to enter the Fade, physically?"

"You've done this twice now, Inquisitor," Morrigan said, grinning as she shook her head. "I should think the shock would have worn off by now. The Anchor will allow you and several of Mythal's sentinels to enter the Fade physically. Abelas will stabilize the tear and then, once you've killed any demons in the area, you need only hold the region until you're ready to expand with another rift."

"I could destabilize the Anchor," Ellana murmured. She felt a flutter inside her and laid a hand over her abdomen, thinking of the baby. Was she wakening? Or did the baby's movements in her sleep crossover the Veil to her in the Fade?

Morrigan frowned, turning to scan the plains as if she'd heard something. Her posture was tense with alertness. "Damn," she grumbled, facing Ellana again with an expression of anxiousness. "I believe Fen'Harel will soon find us." She licked her lips, urgency in her voice as she went on. "I will meet with you physically in the Dales, Inquisitor. Unlike Fen'Harel, I—Mythal—we know a way to take the Anchor without also taking your arm. Do as I ask and she will save you and your arm."

"How do I know you won't just take it for yourself?" Ellana asked, fear twining cold hands through her.

Morrigan snorted. "And earn the full brunt of Fen'Harel's wrath? I think not."

"He will be furious regardless," Ellana said, narrowing her eyes at the witch. "And how am I supposed escape Hellathen Hamin while—"

"We do not have time for this, Inquisitor," Morrigan said, spinning quickly to gaze around the empty plains. She raised one palm to the sky again in a casual waving motion, her palm glowing. The fake Fade rift spluttered and went out, disappearing like a candle snuffed out by a stiff breeze. "Place your trust in Abelas and he will guide you."

Morrigan began walking toward the nearest boulder, her steps swift and hurried.

"Wait," Ellana called after her and started to leave her boulder, ignoring the uncomfortable leaden weight in her belly as she hopped down. "Morrigan—will this save Solas' life?"

Just before the gap between the boulders, Morrigan paused and pivoted to stare at her. "Mythal believes it will, yes."

Ellana had stopped, one hand clutching her bow still while the other rested as it so often did these days on her expanding belly. "Thank you," she said, already knowing she couldn't pass up this opportunity, even though she knew this could be a trap Mythal had planned all along. "Mythal'enaste."

Morrigan dipped her head in a meaningful nod and then stepped backwards until the boulders obscured Ellana's view of her. As soon as the witch had vanished the sun over the Exalted Plains seemed to wink out. Ellana gasped, feeling the boulder underneath her go suddenly flat, the texture transforming to something soft, as if covered with fur. The warmth she'd felt from the sunlight became the enveloping heat of the blankets covering her.

When she opened her eyes she found herself in a room with walls of pale gray stone, unlit except for the reflected light of a brazier outside the doorway. Sensing movement nearby, Ellana shot upright, her heart racing as she twisted to look to the opposite side of the room only to relax as she recognized Lyris' silver armor, glinting even in the darkness.

"Lyris?" she asked, her voice thick with the remnants of sleep. Noticing the other side of the pallet where she and Solas slept was currently empty, she sighed. "Where's Solas?" She'd expected to find him sleeping next to her, trying to ferret out her dreams. If Morrigan hadn't sensed Solas in the Fade, who else could it have been?

"He rose early to meet with the latest Dalish warriors who've joined," she answered, her deep voice soft and gentle.

In the long weeks of traveling and recruiting around Thedas Ellana had had to constantly remind Lyris and her husband, as well as the sentinels, that her people were Dalish, not shem-elves. It'd finally sunk in now that they had returned to Hellathen Hamin it seemed. A good thing too as the ruins of Hellathen Hamin had been increasingly crowded with Dalish arriving in droves from every corner of Thedas along with a steady influx of city elves. Solas' Elvhen lieutenants greeted them, and occasionally Solas himself, though he didn't use his Evanuris title with them when doing so, leaving a degree of separation and confusion as to the true identity of the Dread Wolf among the modern elves. The last count Ellana had heard put their forces at nearly three hundred—right at the number Solas wanted to lead against the Forgotten Ones.

Sitting up and throwing the covers from herself, Ellana shivered against the chill in the air and quickly moved to don her armor. "Did he send you to wake me?" she asked Lyris over her shoulder. "What time is it?"

"Just after dawn," Lyris said. "And no, Solas did not ask me to wake you, but considering the issue at hand I felt you were the one I should consult." She edged closer, her armor clinking with each step. "Two of Abelas' sentinels returned a few moments ago with intruders they found trespassing in the Crossroads. They claimed to be your Inquisition companions and I…recognized the mage with them."

Stunned, Ellana froze in mid-motion, pulling her surcoat over herself. Whipping around to face Lyris, she repeated what the warrior had said. "My Inquisition companions?"

Lyris nodded. In the darkness, with only the brazier behind her casting a flickering light, the warrior's face was obscured and impossible to read. "The sentinels discovered the Halamshiral eluvian active about two weeks ago. I suspect the mage has learned to turn it on."

The grimness in Lyris' voice made Ellana frown. "You say that as if it's especially bad." She adjusted the surcoat and then began securing her belts and straps, scowling as she found today she had to loosen it around her hips again. Morrigan had been right when she said Ellana was growing everyday. Or rather, the baby was growing everyday.

"It is," Lyris said, shifting her stance with tension. "Because unless Fen'Harel is the one using them, that eluvian and many others require a passphrase to activate." She paused, the silence heavy with Ellana's anticipation. "The passphrase is Fen'Harel enansal."

Ellana bit back a groan, barely. Fen'Harel's blessing. Yet already her heart raced, twisting with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. A wave of dizziness washed over her, but Ellana pushed it aside. If the mage was who she thought it was…someone Lyris recognized and who'd been clever enough to find the passphrase as well as whatever magic was required to activate the eluvians…

"Take me to them," she said, unable to bring herself to call them prisoners though she knew that was what Lyris and the sentinels considered them.

Lyris dipped her head in a bow, waiting patiently as Ellana finished dressing and pulled on her long coat as well. Ellana marched after Lyris as the warrior led her out of the small stone chamber she and Solas slept within and out into the hallway beyond where the brazier burned as much for light as heat. They were belowground in the ruins, where the temperature was always chilly but constant and above freezing.

The first frosts had come to the area, making food scarce as edible plants withered and died, but the forests were still rich with game and all of the incoming elves arrived with dried meats, cheeses, and other rations from their journeys. Even so, the ragtag army would soon fall apart without a food source. Oddly, Solas didn't seem to be concerned by that, which likely meant he had a contingency plan in place, though as usual he'd shared little with her about it. Ellana made up her mind to ask specifically about it the next time she had him alone.

They ascended a crumbling staircase, going slow to avoid loose and disintegrating bricks. Ellana felt wobblier than she thought she should, but she wasn't certain if that was due to the changes in her body or her increased wariness and caution. The last thing she wanted was to stumble and hurt herself or the baby.

They emerged out into the courtyard, lit with the pink-orange of the rising sun, low on the horizon as it peeked over the ruin's collapsing walls to the east. Tents had been pitched in neat lines, made from both fabric and furs. Campfires smoldered with coals still glowing in them. Elves sat around each fire, tending them and maintaining watches throughout the area. More tents filled the next open clearing beyond the ruins, and dozens of aravels stood around the edges of the encampment. Frost rimed the tents and crunched on the grass underfoot as Ellana followed Lyris out of the courtyard and up another crumbling staircase.

"Why did the sentinels bring them here?" Ellana asked as they entered the narrower, open passageways of the ruin. The roof had collapsed long ago, leaving the earth beneath their feet littered with large stone blocks that they had to pick their way through. Now, with the morning frost, each block was slick.

Lyris grunted indelicately. "They claimed they believed it was the best choice to keep the prisoners locked up under our control until Fen'Harel can change the passphrase. Then we can send them back to Halamshiral."

The note of anger in Lyris' voice made Ellana scowl. "You don't believe that?" she guessed.

"No," Lyris growled.

"Then why did they bring them?" Ellana pressed, wishing Lyris would turn and meet her eye. It seemed like an extremely foolish mistake on the sentinels' part—leading a troupe of Inquisition agents here only showed them which eluvian would take them to Hellathen Hamin. Considering their long lives, dedication, and extensive training, it seemed highly unlikely the sentinels had chosen to do this out of foolishness.

Now Lyris stopped and her shoulders worked as she breathed a moment. Then she turned, her face a mask of anger that almost made Ellana flinch backward. "Because they serve Mythal and the human mage with them keeps talking about her." She snarled. "I will never serve a leader who proclaims godhood."

"The mage mentioned Mythal?" Ellana asked, eyes wide with disbelief. Was it a bluff by a smart mage—Dorian she assumed—or was Morrigan really that busy? "Do you think he's telling the truth? All the Dalish Keepers have claimed Mythal visits them in dreams. Could this be—"

Lyris cut her off, terse and irritable. "What does it matter? Mythal abandoned the People. Her vessel was human. If she's spoken to this mage as well…" Lyris' jaw clenched, her blue eyes dark with anger. "I do not trust any one who once proclaimed godhood."

"But she allied with Solas," Ellana said and then sighed, correcting herself. "Fen'Harel, I mean."

"And now they dance in courtly intrigue," Lyris grumbled, lips curling in revulsion. "Even though the court is in ruins."

"The Game," Ellana supplied with a nod.

"Yes," Lyris agreed with a sneer before her shoulders fell. "Come with me, Lana."

They resumed their walk, threading through the ruins until they reached the dead-end corridor where they stored the eluvian. The mirror was bright blue, active and humming with magic, lighting the pale, half-collapsed walls around it. Standing there in front of the mirror were several elves and four familiar faces—Dorian, Thom Rainier, Sera, and Iron Bull glaring at their elven captors. Seeing them brought a wide smile to Ellana's lips before she could stop it and as the sound of her steps and Lyris' armor both drew her friends' gazes they too broke out grinning.

"Ellana, old girl!" Dorian exclaimed, immediately beaming. "There you are!"

"Quiet," Mathrel shouted, snarling. He bristled, fully armored and deadly. "Shem."

"Vishante kaffas," Dorian grumbled, glaring. "I'm not even allowed to greet my dearest friend?"

"Arse," Sera put in with a sneer at Mathrel. "You blind yourself in the sun with that armor, yeah? Bad as her most holy lady lumps, that."

Ignoring them, Mathrel glanced toward Ellana and Lyris. "Emma lath," he said, speaking to his wife and partner. "You should have brought…hahren." His brown eyes slid to Ellana with a look that was both regret and embarrassment. "Ir abelas, Ellana."

"Hahren was occupied," Lyris replied, curt and cold.

Mathrel seethed, launching into a snarled explanation of what'd happened. "These shem have been trespassing into the Crossroads from Halamshiral. They reactivated the eluvian to the library and—"

"I know," she cut him off with a dismissive wave, irritation making her terse. You should have brought hahren, he'd said to Lyris. Ellana knew who exactly Mathrel's hahren was. Observing the four sentinels she recognized Arina the rogue, Darae, and Zaron, while the fourth was a lower-ranked rogue whose name she didn't know as she hadn't traveled with them to recruit among the Dalish. One of them, Arina, shot Ellana a somber glance over her shoulder. The certainty hit Ellana that none of this was an accident, making her skin tingle.

Focusing on Mathrel, Ellana said, "These are my friends. They won't attack us. There's no reason they need be treated as prisoners."

Mathrel scowled and shook his head. "They are prisoners. Until hahren says otherwise."

"Who's this Hahren guy?" Iron Bull asked with a grunt.

"Damned if I know," Rainier muttered.

"Probably another name for our bald friend," Dorian grumbled with a snort. "Since he has so many titles these days. My favorite was always apostate hobo, naturally."

Ellana clenched her jaw, schooling her reaction as Mathrel shouted again, cursing in elven and ordering them to be silent. His hands had curled into fists, his shoulders bunching up with rage. "Mathrel," Ellana called out, her voice ringing with authority. "Perhaps you'd like to go and fetch hahren yourself. I would like to speak with my friends without you spitting and hissing like a cat."

The warrior glared at her and then spat off to one side and charged away, pausing as he brushed past Lyris and growled out, "Stay here, emma lath." Eyeing Lyris out of the corner of her vision, Ellana saw the other woman nod, her lips pinched in a hard line. Then Mathrel stomped away, his armor clinking faintly.

"Downright cranky fellow," Dorian said with a sniff. "Worse than Solas." He cocked an eyebrow then, staring Ellana down with a glint of anger. "Or should I call him Fen'Harel? Perhaps you can tell me, Ellana?"

As the other three merely stared at her, waiting, Ellana felt Lyris' gaze on her and flexed her palms, finding them coated in sticky sweat. She took a few steps closer to their group, stopping beside the sentinels who'd remained silent but alert with their weapons or magic at the ready. Ignoring Dorian's question, Ellana said, "I'm sorry we're meeting like this, but it doesn't change the fact I'm happy to see you all."

"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."

"Now," Ellana said with a sigh, trying to move on. "Care to tell me why you're here?"

"We volunteered," Dorian answered and when the others turned to watch him Ellana pegged Dorian as the informal leader. "Well, I did. Divine Victoria offered resources and access to the eluvian in Halamshiral when she learned of certain…information myself and my colleagues in the Magisterium have gathered in recent weeks." He shot a vicious glare at the sentinel elves and Lyris. "Something about a certain elven trickster god that I have a sneaking suspicion is bald and enjoys flapping his gums about the Fade quite often." He twisted his mustache with one hand idly, feigning a pensive expression. "Now what was his name again?"

"Daddy droopy ears," Sera supplied with a smirk that was somewhere between anger and amusement. Rainier and Iron Bull both suppressed laughter.

Still blushing, Ellana cleared her throat, determined to continue ignoring the fact they seemed entirely confident they knew Solas' identity now. Refusing to admit or deny it was tacitly allowing them to see the truth, she knew, but Ellana didn't want to fall into that quagmire of arguing. "That doesn't tell me why you were in the Crossroads." Feeling a little residual anger at Cassandra, she frowned. "What does most holy want with Solas and I now? Was it not enough that she had him arrested and threatened to lock him in a Circle?"

"Yes," Dorian said, flashing a lopsided smile. "She feels dreadful about that, but you know Cassandra, honor and that whole seeking the truth rubbish. But the truth, Ellana, is that she and Leliana hoped to come to a…diplomatic solution to what's happening in my homeland and the rest of Thedas."

Ellana stared at him, her chest constricting. "What do you mean?" she asked, the words breathy. His words rang in her skull like a gong: the rest of Thedas.

Frowning, Dorian cocked his head, apparently perturbed by her question. "I told you about the chaos in the Imperium, but I take it you've not heard about alienages rising up and elves just…" He made a whooshing sound with his lips and gestured as if knocking an imaginary glass or other small object over. "Gone. Servants and slaves and Dalish alike, all of them up and leaving. And that's not to mention the guerilla attacks that started about three weeks ago raiding farms and villages, taking food and supplies—oh, and killing everyone. Can't forget that. And then, of course, they just vanish." He smiled sarcastically. "Delightful, don't you think? Strange, Cassandra says the reports are always that it's elven apostates primarily."

Ellana stared at him, dumbfounded. The chaos in Tevinter she understood because it held both slaves and ancient artifacts, two things Solas desperately wanted to change. But rebellions elsewhere and guerilla attacks? She'd just wondered how Solas intended to feed this growing force and now she knew. Any spot within reasonable distance from an eluvian would be open to attack.

And this is why he risked so much to gain the Inquisition's help removing the Qunari, she realized. The eluvians allowed him incredible power and freedom, and he'd used her to secure his hold on them. More than that, Ellana remembered Morrigan's words when she'd taken her to the Crossroads through Skyhold's eluvian. Elvhenan had struggled with the mirrors being used in this exact way, forcing them to deactivate most of them. It was no coincidence that Solas had returned to them now.

Fen'Harel will use you, Morrigan had said to her in the Exalted Plains, mere minutes ago. He already has, she thought and felt her stomach clench, waves of hot and cold washing over her.

"Ellana," Lyris said, her voice strained. "You mustn't listen to this fool shem's poison."

The sentinels remained tense, but Ellana caught them shooting her anxious looks, dark with meaning. The baby kicked inside her, his little jabs strong. Oh da'len, she thought at her baby. How could I have been so blind?

"Poison, is it?" Rainier growled. "The rest of Thedas calls it daily news."

"Actually, they're calling it an elven uprising," Dorian said, glaring in Lyris' direction. "And it sounds a mite suspicious to me, Ellana, that your friend over there isn't the least bit surprised by it, but you are." He shifted on his feet, arms crossing over his chest. "We volunteered to enter the Crossroads hoping to make contact with you or that bald apostate bastard to learn the truth and settle this mess before it gets worse."

"We need you back, your holy lady bits," Sera added, straight faced.

"Or you can talk some sense into Solas," Iron Bull growled. "Before I put a horn in his gut instead."

"You'd be dead before you even knew what happened to you, Qunari," Lyris snarled.

"Enough," Ellana grumbled, closing her eyes and shaking her head. Her hands were trembling, her knees weak. "I need to—" She broke off, her skin suddenly prickling and the Anchor crackling as it responded to magic. Gasping at the pain, Ellana cradled her hand and almost missed the twining, flash of purple-black energy shooting past Lyris. And then, between one eye blink and the next, Solas stood beside the sentinels, wearing his silver armor and the black wolf headdress over his face, obscuring it.

Everyone, including Ellana, flinched with surprise at the sudden, unnatural arrival. The sight of Solas, glimmering and malevolent, his lips twisted in a deep frown, stole the breath from Ellana's lungs. He was magnificent and terrifying, his arms behind his back and his shoulders squared with his namesake: pride.

Lyris was the first to speak, greeting him automatically. "Hahren."

"Hahren," Sera repeated in a mocking voice. "You shite bastard, daddy droopy ears."

Next Chapter:

"Do you not understand our position?" Solas asked her, biting each word out. "We cannot achieve our goals if you reveal our plans to our enemies!" His grip tightened, the metal on his fingers biting into her skin. "Why did you betray me, vhenan? Why must you oppose me at every turn? Do you delight in causing me pain?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Ellana snarled, even as she saw the anguish in his gaze. "They are not our enemies. They could be allies if you would but listen."