A/N: I'm a pushover for begging, but the next one's not until Tuesday! You'll all still want more after this one, but not as badly as last chapter, I suspect. I was just a tease there. I think my beta threatened to kill me when I left off there before. Current writing is still on chapter 51 but going well and it will be the last chapter minus an epilogue.

Forty-Two

Leashing the Dread Wolf

Ellana led him to the edge of the clearing, through thick grass that rose to mid-thigh height and away from the pavilion and the others. Solas tried not to admire the shape of her legs or the way her messily braided hair fluttered over her shoulders and upper back as she walked. If she truly no longer wished to be his lover then he had no right to long to touch her or be touched by her. Letting himself pine for her would only prolong the suffering, so he kept his eyes downcast.

"How did you find us?" Ellana asked, pausing at the tree line beneath a large, vine-covered fern palm.

That question made him lift his eyes to meet hers and smile, feeling the pleasurable shiver of wonder pass through him. "I had a most…unexpected encounter in the Fade."

Making a face, Ellana's lips quirked in a lopsided, hesitant smile. "One of your spirit friends?" She raised her left hand, flashing the faintly green seam of the Anchor. "I have it on good authority that I look like some kind of beacon to spirits in the Fade. Or that's what the Avvar tell me anyway."

He chuckled, unable to help himself even as his stomach flip-flopped with anxiety and his guts seemed to twist into a huge knot. She was like a beacon, but it wasn't the Anchor that made her shine in his eyes. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he shook his head in answer to her question. "No, not a spirit of the Fade. Not one of my friends." He let his eyes drift to her belly meaningfully. "I slipped into our child's dream the night before last and overheard the sound of conversation. Eventually I heard mention of the Arbor Wilds and the nearness of an eluvian. It was enough that I could find you."

"Our child's dream." She inhaled sharply, eyebrows arching with surprise. "Warm darkness? The heartbeats?"

Now it was his turn to stare at her with astonishment. "You've experienced it as well?"

Smiling and laying a hand over the swell of her abdomen, she nodded. "Yes. I didn't realize what it was until Morrigan told me."

Solas clenched his jaw and averted his gaze then as wonder darkened into something less pleasant. "On the night you left I sensed the Anchor blast in Halamshiral. I was certain you were dying or already dead…"

"I'm sorry I put you through that," she murmured, frowning. "I didn't realize you would feel the blast from the Anchor and think the worst."

Breathing out, long and shakily, he let his shoulders slump, releasing the tension and the lingering memory of the icy terror that'd gripped him by the throat that night. "I met with the Iron Bull," he forced himself to go on, a bit rougher than before as he mastered his emotions. "It was he who told me Morrigan—or Mythal—had somehow stabilized the Anchor." Raising his eyes to meet hers, Solas extended one hand, palm up. "May I see it?"

Ellana hesitated, searching over his face. Then, squaring her shoulders, she extended her hand out to his, letting him grip it. Reluctantly peeling his gaze from her face, Solas focused on her palm. Feeling over the seam with his thumb, he probed it with a gentle sliver of magic and watched as it brightened, noticing that now the glow illuminated the fine bones in her palm and wrist. It was as if the Anchor now resided deeper than before, inside her very bones. Checking her expression for pain, he saw only a slight grimace.

With a frown of confusion, Solas drew on the Anchor, the way he would when trying to taste lingering magic left in an object as with the eluvians or the foci. He'd done something similar when he discharged the Anchor for her. The magic flowed to him, familiar and pleasant, warm and tingling on his skin. He sensed Ellana tense and released his hold on the magic, but kept grip on her hand.

"It is still my magic," he said, speaking without raising his head, still examining it. "Are you in much pain?"

"Not really," she said, shrugging. "Closing rifts was more painful than whatever you just did."

Shooting her an apprehensive look, he asked, "I'd like to try one last thing, if I may?" At her nod of consent Solas again traced the seam with his thumb, but this time instead of probing with magic, he reached for it with his inner senses. The process drew on his mana core as he willed the Anchor to respond to him, to flare up and come alive. He had done the same trick at Haven to first save her life, though with far greater effort because he'd been substantially weaker at the time. He'd willed the Anchor to settle then and it had heeded his command like a good dog recognizing its owner's voice.

But this time the Anchor resisted, refusing him. He registered Ellana's surprise as his eyes flared with light, and then heard her gasp, her hand clenching and shaking with pain around his thumb. Releasing his incorporeal grip on the Anchor, Solas let go of her hand and withdrew a step. "Ir abelas," he apologized, dipping his head in an exaggerated nod. "I wanted to feel what has changed, but I'd hoped it'd cause you less pain."

She shook out her left hand, still grimacing. "Don't worry, the false labor pangs are a lot worse than the Anchor is now." Opening her palm and feeling it over for herself, she traced the seam with her right thumb. "What did you find? Your eyes glowed."

"It has been bound to you so completely now that I can no longer exert any control over it," he admitted, the vexation he felt coloring his voice. "What did Mythal do?"

"We were in the Fade," she explained. "She put me to sleep and did something to the Anchor and my…spirit?" She frowned, sighing. "It's a little hazy to me, but Abelas and Dorian probably understood it a lot better than—"

"She could have placed a compulsion on you," Solas said, moving suddenly for her and then stopping himself short, as if afraid to touch her. His hands opened and closed, fisting and then relaxing again. His shoulders heaved and his heart raced as he tried to sense if anything had been done to Ellana, anything altered.

Ellana had tensed, watching him with a wary look. "Abelas warned me that Morrigan…that Mythal intended to put some sort of compulsion spell on me, yes. That was why he had his vallaslin removed. He disagreed with her plans. She was…" she broke off, frowning with sudden vehement anger clouding her face. "Mythal hoped to use our child or me, possibly, as a vessel for herself."

Solas snarled, hot blood rushing to his cheeks and burning him all the way to his ears. "Fenedhis lasa," he snarled. His mana coiled, ready and eager to be shaped into hostile magic, but Solas tabled it. There was no one to attack here, no one to fight. Breathing out, he asked, "You are certain you remain yourself?"

"Dorian and Abelas watched the whole ritual," she said. "I trust them." Fidgeting with her hands, she stared at him evenly and then laid her hands protectively over her belly. "But if I ever seem inclined to give myself or our child over to become Mythal's vessel, you're welcome to stop me with any force necessary." She sucked in a quavering breath then and bit her lip before saying, "When the Anchor destabilized in that street, when I thought I was going to die, I made Dorian promise to save the baby and bring him to you."

Watching her, Solas had gone stiff at her words, freezing like a deer in the wolf's gaze. The thought of what could have happened—the Anchor consuming her in agony, of the desperation and selflessness that would drive her to command such a promise from her closest friend—he felt heat and pressure behind his eyes and closed them, turning his head away. He wanted to rail against her recklessness in leaving him during such a volatile time, for putting herself and their child in danger, but she'd done it because his actions had driven her away. Taking Halamshiral in rebellion had been as repulsive to her as slavery was to him.

"Vhen—" He cut himself off, wincing at the error and unable to meet her eye. Starting again, he said, "Ellana. I could not bear to lose you. Please, do not throw yourself into danger like that again. I understand I drove you away, that my actions were…repugnant." He frowned, shaking his head as he snuck a quick glance at her face before his eyes danced away again.

"I will never keep you against your will. I would have gladly provided you with an escort out of the palace and Halamshiral as soon as the fighting stopped. My only desire is to ensure that you are safe. My greatest pleasure is knowing you are happy—whether I am with you or not." The lump in his throat ached, so cold it burned, but he forced himself to speak around it. "If you'd never wanted to see me again, I would have honored your wishes." Feeling the knot of anxiety in his guts tighten at the admission, he hurriedly added, "Though I will insist on seeing our child."

"Solas," she said, rasping. "You did keep me against my will. You had Lyris and Mathrel guarding me, like I was your prisoner."

"For your safety," he persisted, though he knew it was partly untrue. He'd suspected she'd try to leave rather than be tacitly complicit in his rebellion.

She sighed, the sound holding a measure of anger in it that made him flinch, eyes and face still averted. "We both know that if I'd stayed, you would have convinced me—guilted me, really—into using the Anchor to help you. That's why you're here now, isn't it?"

Scowling as heat licked his cheeks, Solas narrowed his eyes as he met her challenging stare with his own. Speaking with a controlled, tight tone, he said, "While I have a vested interest in finding you for the Anchor, I am here first and foremost because I refuse to miss our child's birth." It did not escape his notice that she seemed to flinch at his words. He filed the reaction away as interesting and pressed on. "Secondly…I require your guidance. When I act without it, I tend to take regrettable actions."

"Like giving Corpypheus your orb," she commented, the barb digging into him like a fishhook.

Closing his eyes and sighing with frustration at himself, he averted his face again from her. "Yes. And taking Halamshiral and the winter palace in a violent rebellion when I should have appealed to the Inquisition and the Divine for a peaceful escort from the city when it became clear Celene would not stop trying to kill us."

He stared down at his fidgeting hands as he wrung them together in front of himself. "You were right to be angry. My actions were brash, callous, and have painted the People in a poor light when before we could have garnered sympathy. I estranged us from our human allies with violence because I was angry at the threat of assassination. I saw what the People could accomplish and acted on it without considering whether it was the right path. The means justified the end, but I was wrong. If I had but consulted you, I would have seen it was folly and I a fool for considering it."

She made a small noise of pain and Solas lifted his eyes to search over her, immediately worried she was having a false labor pang, but finding instead that her eyes brimmed with tears. Her lips trembled, the edges curling downward as she turned her head away and blinked, sending the tears cascading down her cheeks. Gritting her teeth, she flicked them away. "I want to believe you, Solas. I've begged you to treat me as a partner. I thought we'd made progress in the Emerald Graves, but Halamshiral…"

"I know," he said, head drooping and brow furrowed with the misery tearing at him like a blade. Glancing back over his shoulder toward the distant pavilion, Solas saw Dorian, Rainier, and Sera all sitting together, talking quietly as they covertly watched the elven couple. Abelas, however, sat on the jumbled, broken pavilion stairs beside two woven baskets, openly staring at them with narrowed eyes—like a hawk waiting for unwary prey. Solas bristled at the sight, though he quashed the reaction, refocusing on Ellana.

Licking his lips and ignoring the anxious squeeze of the knot in his belly, Solas said, "In Elvhenan, when I first came to Arlathan's court and before I was unmasked as an Evanuris, I served as a general and advisor under Mythal. I did not act without her consent. I was her teeth and her claws. Sometimes she agreed with my plans and we enacted them, and sometimes she dismissed them despite my protests."

He smiled, though it was wan and humorless. "Invariably, she was correct." Tugging on his sleeves, he lifted his gaze to hers and felt his stomach clench at the small furrow between her brows. "Though I disagree with her methods now, ours was a successful partnership at the time, but I was not the leader. When I joined the Inquisition, I was stunned to find myself serving a leader no less worthy than Mythal—more so, in fact."

Ellana's lips curled in a lopsided, hesitant smile. "Are you saying you want to be my general? Or just my Fade expert?"

Staring at her, feeling his limbs go somehow both heavy and light with nervousness, Solas thought, I'll be anything you want me to be, anything you let me be. Swallowing to try and wet his parched throat, he said, "I am suggesting I am not the leader you are. I am at my strongest, ironically, when leashed."

Her green eyes darted over his body in a swift appraisal and her cheeks pinked, leaving him little doubt that she'd been unable to stop herself from seeing innuendo in the comment. Heat spread over his cheeks like a wine stain over a tablecloth and he chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced away sheepishly. "Apologies. I did not mean—"

"You don't have to apologize," she interrupted, smiling with real humor. "I'm the one who can't keep a straight face to save her life."

Heart pounding as he saw the warmth in her eyes, Solas edged closer, gaze darting to her lips. He pressed his advantage, "I am asking you to guide me, to join me. I will pledge to follow you and fight for you, if you'll have me. I will be your teeth and your claws, because I know you will use them wisely and with more compassion than Mythal."

"And what about when we disagree?" she asked, voice and body trembling, eyes skipping over his face. "What about when I tell you the chaos in Tevinter must stop, or the raids against the humans must end? Would you say one thing to appease me and then do another in secret?"

"No," Solas said, emphatic as he shook his head in the negative. "If and when I disagree with you, I would counsel you to find another solution before you command it be stopped. Everything I did was with purpose. I arranged the raids for food and the chaos in Tevinter is to free slaves and allow my agents to uncover Elvhen artifacts."

She nodded, her expression contemplative though he saw doubt still darkening her eyes. After a lengthy pause she cast a look past him toward the clearing and sighed, her shoulders slumping and her hands moving to her belly, resting there. "I want to believe you, Solas."

"Then believe me, please," he begged, the words rasping. "I know it is much of me to ask, but…" Heart lurching into his throat, Solas shifted and shrugged the bow he'd been carrying from his shoulders. Holding it in both hands, he extended it to her. "I commissioned this for you. I intended it as a betrothal gift, to pledge my commitment to you…"

Her eyes grazed the bow, widening as she took it in. Then she looked at him, lips parting and then closing again, apparently speechless. The knot inside him twisted, sharp and tight as he waited for a response, hardly daring even to breathe. His hands were sweaty where he clasped the bow.

Slow with reverence, Ellana raised her hands to the bow, taking it. Solas let it go and withdrew a small step. "There is no need for an immediate answer," he hedged. "I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. The bow is yours regardless."

"It's beautiful," she said, soft as a whisper. She palmed the grip, shifting to an archer's sideways stance, and drew the bowstring in the practiced motion he'd seen so many times. The bow's limbs bent in an elegant curve, the thin, flexible metal crafted into the supple wood glinting as it caught the light.

"I had hoped to give this to you weeks ago," he admitted quietly, feeling the weight of a foreboding sadness pressing down on him. He'd told her she didn't need to answer right away, but the longer she didn't speak made him certain he wouldn't like what she had to say. "But in the Emerald Graves, when I saw that your affinity is for storm magic, I asked your Keeper and clan crafter to alter it. I wanted to teach you the archer's magic of Elvhenan, if you were willing."

She lowered the bow and met his gaze with a warm, cautious smile. "I'd like that." Then, gingerly, she tucked the bow onto her shoulder, a slow and deliberate action of possession. Of acceptance. Something light and soft like hope stirred in his chest though he tried to quash it.

She reached for his forearm, squeezing. The smile had not yet left her lips. Solas simply stared at her, stomach rolling and heart racing. She took a breath then and said, "I'm willing to try again, but it may take me some time to trust."

Solas searched her face, trying to puzzle out whether she meant his suggestion of a partnership, with her as the leader rather than himself, or if it was more than that. His mouth was dry, his tongue feeling too big and clumsy for it as he fought to find the right words. Aiming for lighthearted, he tried to smile, though he knew it'd look more like a grimace. "Are you accepting my service to you for the People or are you consenting to betrothal?"

A slow smile curled over her lips, though her chin trembled. "I can't have both?"

Excitement made his stomach leap, his breath catch in his throat. He wanted to say something clever and funny, but his throat seemed to be too full to speak, his mind too chaotic with the surge of relief and joy pounding through his blood. The best he could manage was to say, "Vhenan…" He had to close his eyes against the sudden prick of tears in his eyes. "Ma serannas."

Drawing closer and tugging his hand to her belly, Ellana added, "And whatever happens, I want our baby to know his father. I don't think I could've gone through with keeping you away, but I'm sorry I ever considered trying. You love him as much as I do and it was wrong of me to—"

Solas kissed her, having leaned close as she spoke, unable to hold himself back. The contact was tentative initially, but Ellana responded with passion, her breath puffing hot against his cheek as she parted her lips and tugged him nearer. The protrusion of her belly kept him from molding his body to hers, forcing him to shift to one side as his hand not against her abdomen moved to cradle her neck. He tilted her head backward slightly and she opened more to the kiss, letting him taste her with his tongue.

"Ugh!" Sera shouted, groaning loudly from across the clearing. "Frigging gross. Just nasty."

Ellana broke the kiss, pulling away a step and releasing his hand on her navel. Her cheeks flushed red, lips puffy from the kiss as her gaze shot past him toward Sera and the others. Solas sighed, only faintly feeling the tension of embarrassment bunching his shoulders over the far more powerful rush of relief and affection. Yet he held himself in check, watching and waiting on her rather than her companions across the clearing.

After several long seconds of silence, Ellana looked back to him and her brow furrowed with an expression of concentration. "Tell me about what's happened at Halamshiral."

The Dales are ours, Ellana thought and the idea of it still left her dizzy with shock. Solas had told her that although the empress had signed a proclamation stating just that, he didn't expect anyone to honor it. He'd released the empress and Briala to uphold his end of their agreement, despite the fact that holding both women prisoner held enormous value.

"Why did you release them?" Ellana asked when he explained it. They were sitting on the cool ground at the edge of the clearing together, surrounded by the grasses that rose to shoulder height, nearly obscuring them. The others remained on the opposite side of the clearing, though Abelas and Rainier had left to hunt. Apparently they'd decided that Solas had no intention of attacking the group and dragging Ellana through the eluvian and truly intended to simply talk.

Solas frowned, lips twisting and eyes narrowing with offense. "Because it was what we three had agreed upon. I am already remembered as a trickster by the People. I have no wish to be further derided as an oath breaker and liar amongst the humans."

She nodded, keeping her expression as impassive as she could while struggling not to point out that he'd spent years lying to her and the Inquisition. Not to mention that taking Halamshiral and the winter palace during peace talks with a surprise attack had hardly been an honest move. It was…exactly the sort of thing a trickster would do. In the interest of not squabbling like dogs over a scrap of meat, Ellana kept her lips pinched firmly shut on that topic and instead clarified, "I meant why did you offer to let them go free in the first place? You could have kept them there."

Now Solas offered her a humorless smile. "Many reasons. Firstly because Celene was disinclined to work with me without such an offer. In addition to that, keeping them imprisoned, or killing them, was what was expected of me as a 'savage.'" He tugged absently at his tunic sleeves. "I was also aware that the rest of Thedas would be watching. The Divine and the Inquisition will likely mount an attack on us soon, regardless of my actions with the empress, but I hoped to salvage a chance at diplomacy."

"You're sure they will attack?" Ellana asked, feeling her heart sink.

Cocking his head slightly, Solas' eyes clouded with darkness. "I believe you know the answer to that already well enough. Even should the Divine hesitate and the Inquisition with her, Celene will certainly launch an assault. She will never honor the accord she signed." His blue eyes drifted down to her left hand resting against her abdomen. "We will need to fight. We have always known that."

The thought of unleashing Solas' power in war made Ellana's blood flash over into ice. She shivered and clenched her left hand, crossing her arms under her breasts and tucking the Anchor away as if she could make Solas forget that was an option. Clenching her jaw, she stared at the lush grass around them, the tiny buds about to bloom with full on springtime. "Tell me how you would fight an army coming to claim Halamshiral," she said, her voice gravelly and somber. "I need to know the consequences. I don't want to be surprised."

Solas turned his head, averting his gaze as he frowned—not with frustration or anger, but with sadness. The wrinkle that formed in his brow and the heavy cast of his eyes gave it away clearly. "I am afraid surprising you will prove unavoidable. I can tell you of my every ability, of each battle I fought in Elvhenan, but I doubt it will ever prepare you for seeing it."

She shifted, drawing slightly closer. "I remember you said Mythal and Elgar'nan could crack open the earth itself to swallow whole armies. Can you?"

He winced, as if her question caused him pain. "My will and mana reserves can do…considerable damage to a great many."

"You need to give me something more concrete than that," Ellana told him with a note of irritation. She uncrossed her arms and flashed her left palm at him, wriggling the fingers. "I need to know what I'm doing before I can agree to give you what you want. If you want me to guide you, or be my general as you said, I need to know."

His blue eyes slid to hers, locking on in a sidelong stare. Silence stretched for several beats, letting Ellana hear only the gentle sigh of the trees and the shrieking call of the blue and pink tropical birds Dorian hated so much. Then, in a hushed voice, Solas said, "I can petrify several hundred arcane warriors with ease, one right after another or all at once. I have not yet encountered my limit. The largest mindblast I cast killed over five hundred in one of Falon'Din's armies instantly. I once incinerated three hundred in a skirmish alongside Lyris and Mathrel."

Ellana stared at him, lips slightly parted, and said nothing. Eyes glazing as he went on, Solas' voice seemed to grow smaller, as if confessing terrible crimes. In a way, Ellana thought, that was exactly what he was doing.

"A blizzard I cast while in service to Mythal raged for a week over a valley miles across until it froze the rebel arcane warriors we'd been hunting. I have held at least a thousand in a static cage and then killed them with winter's grasp." Heaving a sigh and closing his eyes as his head drooped, he added, "Alongside Mythal and Elgar'nan, I split the earth beneath Falon'Din's army as they tried to retreat from us. Many of the Deep Roads fissures across Thedas are marks from where the earth has not healed from such foolish shows of force by the Evanuris."

"You did that?" Ellana asked, gawking.

He frowned, nose wrinkling as if with disgust. "I did. Once. Please understand, I could not do such damage without the help of Mythal and Elgar'nan. Only the combined power of several Evanuris could achieve it, and even if I could perform it again I would not."

"Fenedhis," Ellana cursed, barely breathing. She stared at her left hand, flexing it again as she tried to imagine actually witnessing what he described. After a few seconds she said, "I'm glad to hear splitting open the earth isn't one of our available options—but I can't help but notice you haven't answered my question. How would you fight an army of Orlesians, Tevinters, or…" She winced. "Inquisition soldiers?"

His shoulders sank. "That would depend on how many I faced and what tactics they used. Trebuchets I would counter with ice to lock up the mechanisms and prevent them firing. Assuming the city was not yet surrounded, I would cast a blizzard and sustain it until the soldiers froze or fled."

Ice, Ellana thought, skin prickling with gooseflesh as an idea leapt into her mind. "Would it be possible, do you think, to limit yourself to nonlethal tactics?" At his arched eyebrow and slight downward tug at the corners of his lips, Ellana quickly amended, "Within reason, I mean. I'm guessing you'd be able to cast a wall of ice to physically block an army from attacking."

"We would then be trapped within," he reminded her.

"We have eluvians," Ellana insisted, thumping her right fist into her left palm. "Supplies could be brought in or people sent out so the city would be mostly empty but we could still hold it against an army."

With a dip of his head, he smiled slightly. "Perhaps."

Ellana screwed up her face, glaring. "That's what you say when you're dismissing something to avoid explaining why you don't want to do it or think it won't work." She challenged him with her eyes, commanding more from him. "Tell me what's really on your mind."

Solas flashed an almost sheepish grin. "Forgive me, I am not dismissing the idea, merely uncertain of it. A wall of ice cast in the high summer would melt with surprising swiftness on its own in the heat, but the Orlesians and Inquisition will use mages and may bring it down in a matter of hours."

"Would you be unable to simply cast another?" she probed.

"I could manage it," he said, expression unreadable. "It is just…an odd tactic. I had not considered it."

"Do you think it would work?" she pressed.

"Yes." A tight smile spread over Solas' lips. "Assuming the Fade was restored and I possess my full abilities and reserves. We would need to evacuate much of the city as we will not be able to feed them all and the standoff could last some time."

"It sounds like a plan to me," Ellana said, feeling excitement bubble inside her chest. The Anchor warmed, the heat flaring through her bones in a slow burn. Glancing down at it, she smirked as she saw the greenish light. "Apparently I'm eager to get started."

Twisting around at the neck, Solas looked in the direction of the pavilion where the eluvian still glowed cerulean blue, humming with magic. She watched as his eyes then slid to where Dorian and Sera sat, munching on food from the forage basket. "What do you wish to tell the others?" he asked. "Do you wish them to stay with you?"

"I'll tell them the truth and they can do whatever they'd like with that." She shrugged, smiling tenderly as she watched Sera slug Dorian in the shoulder, reacting to something he'd said. "If they want to come with me, I'll welcome them." She paused, pinning him with a hard stare. "Will you?"

He winced. "I'd prefer Dorian and Rainier not join us. They would face hostility from our people. Sera will not be comfortable going with us once the Fade is restored to Halamshiral." Shaking his head, he said, "As for Abelas…"

"You don't trust him," Ellana said, seeing the truth of it in the mild snarl tightening his features. "But I do. He left Mythal's service to be sure he could stop her from placing me under a compulsion. I watched Arina and Zaron fall under her will and attack him. Abelas fought them off but never hurt them. He's a good man and worthy of your trust."

Narrowing his blue eyes at her, Solas said, "Your trust, vhenan. He is loyal to you, not to me."

Licking her lips, Ellana said, "He knows Mythal. He may be valuable because of that. He can anticipate whatever she will do next."

"Doubtful," Solas muttered, a little crease forming over the bridge of his nose. Sighing, he jerked his chin toward the far end of the clearing and Ellana saw Rainier and Abelas emerging from the forest. Abelas carried a dead nug in one hand; its little throat slit and drained of blood. "Are you ready to speak with them?" Solas asked.

"Yes," she nodded and shifted, trying to get her legs beneath her so she could rise, but finding it challenging. Her belly made her cumbersome and her swollen ankles and stuff, achy back didn't help the matter. Solas was on his feet and helping her immediately, his long-fingered hands gripping her biceps firmly but gently, hauling her up. She rested her hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin rising from beneath the fabric of his tunic as she struggled to dismiss the faint dizziness that set the world spinning around her.

"Are you all right?" Solas asked her, leaning his forehead close to hers. The back of his left hand caressed her cheek softly. "You look a little pale."

Chuckling, she pushed him away. "I'd almost forgotten how much of a worrier you were about me." She smiled to reassure him when she saw his anxious look. "I'm fine, Solas." Gripping her hips, she dug her thumbs into her back, rubbing at the low ache there. "Just sat there too long."

"You should see a healer," he said quietly. "I'm con—"

A crackling sound echoed through the clearing, making both of their heads whip toward where Dorian and the others sat beside the forage basket. Lightning flickered, lighting the trees behind their group with the white-purple hued energy, and Ellana saw a violent explosion of colorful pink and blue feathers fluttered from the pavilion roof's edge. Two other colorful birds flew away in a panicked flapping of wings and shrieking.

"Nice," Sera exclaimed with a laugh. "But you let two of 'em get away."

Rainier laughed as well, one hand grabbing at his belly with the loud peals of it. "Oh, the feathers…all that's left of it…"

"You've left no usable meat," Abelas complained.

Ellana looked to the feathers still falling to the ground and saw nothing but a scorch mark and some bloodstains on the white stone of the pavilion roof. Dorian had fried the bird with a burst of lightning.

"That was my plan," Dorian said with a huff. "The last thing I want is for you to try cooking one of those foul things up. Can you imagine how awful that'd be? Worse than the nug."

"Nothing's worse than nug," Rainier said, jabbing a finger at Dorian as if in reprimand.

"That's debatable," Dorian said with a sniff as his eyes landed on Ellana. "Are you ready to kick that Fade-loving filth back through the mirror, my dear?" he called out to her. "Please say yes. You wouldn't want to let me down now, would you?"

Ellana shot Solas an apologetic look. "Will you wait by the eluvian?" she asked. "I don't want Dorian to punch you again."

Dipping his head, Solas said, "Of course, vhenan. You are ever wise." Glancing in Dorian's direction with a slight turn of his head and dry amusement brightening his eyes, Solas added, "He does have a well-established record of striking me—and not, necessarily, without reason."

She chuckled dryly. "Should I start calling you Athim instead of Solas?" Humility instead of Pride.

He smiled, warm and affectionate, reaching out and brushing her hair with one hand before he cupped her cheek. "If that is your wish," he said and then withdrew a step. "Take all the time you need. I will be waiting."

Solas leaned against one of the pillars closest to the eluvian, head bent forward and arms crossed over his chest as he listened to Ellana talk with her companions. After the protests from Dorian and Sera—and more than a few from Rainier as well—Ellana had gradually begun convincing them that this was the best course of action. Of course Dorian was the last holdout and argued long after the others had accepted her decision.

"And what, pray tell, happens when that bald spellbind stops pretending to have turned over a new leaf?" he demanded, his face set in a snarl and his hands curled into fists at his side. He spoke loud enough that Solas could hear him with ease, though he studiously ignored the Tevinter, barely doing more than sneaking quick peeks at the other man.

"Solas has promised he won't keep me against my will. I'll be free to go," she said, calm and reassuring. Then, with a note of earnestness, she added, "I can convince him to stop the chaos in the Imperium this way." Looking to Rainier and Sera then, she said, "And across Thedas. This is our best option."

"He won't honor it, you know," Dorian snarled.

"Fen'Harel served Mythal loyally for centuries," Abelas put in, unexpectedly rising to Solas' defense. "He was renowned as a general."

"Well la-dee-dah," Dorian grumbled, huffing. "Good for him, but that doesn't prove anything."

Solas quashed the heat of humiliation and irritation burning over his skin, reminding himself that he deserved their ire and doubt. Watching Ellana argue for him warmed him from within, making his heart swell with love and gratitude. He didn't deserve her bountiful forgiveness, her boundless capacity to love despite being hurt. The strength of it humbled him, prickling his skin with gooseflesh as ripples of awe passed through him.

Eventually the group agreed that Dorian, Sera, and Rainier would part ways from Ellana and Abelas. The two humans and Sera would travel to the winter palace through the eluvian and then leave for Val Royeaux or wherever else they desired. While they chattered, Solas continued observing Ellana, steeling himself for the challenges to come when he'd have to defend Halamshiral from attack using nonlethal techniques. The idea of it sent the anxiety knot in his gut coiling tight because he'd never done it before. What if he failed and had to slaughter everyone to save the city? Would Ellana see that or would she suspect he'd betrayed her?

Wrapped up in his own thoughts, he almost missed it when Ellana's posture altered, hunching. She had one hand bracing her back still and her expression was drawn and somewhat haggard. Her skin was pale and with a light sheen of sweat lining her brow and upper lip. Both Dorian and Abelas reacted faster than him, to his shame, falling silent a beat and then asking nearly identical questions with concern.

"Are you all right, love?"

"Are you in pain, lethallan?"

She answered in a strained voice, the words strangled and guttural. "This one's different from the others." Letting out a breathy pant, she rubbed at her belly, gnashing her teeth together.

Solas sprang from his slouching position, hurrying across the pavilion and hopping sprightly down the pavilion steps. Dorian and Abelas, who'd both been reaching for her, stepped back as he approached. Abelas' expression was neutral as he gave way, but Dorian glowered as if the fact that Solas shared the same atmosphere as he did was an insult. Sera and Rainier just stared with concern for Ellana, content to ignore him as long as he was there to help.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked, ready to relieve her pain. He laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing to offer moral support. Her body felt hot to the touch, almost as if with fever. When he laid his hand over her belly, trying to direct his magic to where the cramps had usually seized her, Solas felt it was rock hard. He'd felt that before with her false labor pangs, but it was still unnerving now—especially as Ellana squirmed while standing in place and hunched up with the pain.

She dragged his hand across her navel and then frowned, shaking her head. Immediately Solas sent the cooling magic into her, trying to ease the muscle and dull the pain as much as possible. "This one started in my back." Huffing with relief, she shook under his touch. "That is…a little better."

"Time to push it out?" Sera asked, giggling nervously. "For real, this time?"

"Time to go through that eluvian," Ellana said, voice still strangled with pain despite the fact that Solas hadn't stopped the stream of magic flowing into her. "That way I can relax." She groaned, eyes fluttering. "My back is killing me."

Solas stooped slightly, draping her arm over his shoulders. "Let me help you, vhenan."

Breathing fast as if winded from a jog, Ellana let him guide her to the eluvian. Solas heard the others' following, their feet shuffling over the stone as they left a few meters between themselves and the couple, as if tentative or afraid of infringing on their privacy. Solas forgot about them as he took Ellana through the mirror, feeling the cool caress of its magic wash over them both as they emerged out the other side into the dusty storage room.

Helping her sit on a large crate, Solas quickly examined her left palm to check on the Anchor. It had flared up slightly with the magic of the eluvian stimulating it and now glowed. Solas traced it reverently with his thumb, feeling how moist her palms were. "Does the Anchor hurt much?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not over everything else," she said, flashing a wry smile. Her right hand was still rubbing at her belly and then alternating to her back. "Fenedhis," she cursed. "The ache just never quits."

The others came through the mirror one by one, making it thrum. They lingered nearby, as if lost. Again Solas decided the best course of action was to ignore them for now.

Releasing Ellana's left hand and cupping her cheeks, feeling the sticky sweat on her skin, Solas said, "We need to get you to a bed so you can rest."

She let out a long breath, shoulders slouching. Then, with a grimace of determination, she heaved herself off the crate and back onto her feet. But just as Solas started to reach for her arm to offer help again, Ellana let out a gasping yelp and squirmed in place, crossing one leg over the other like a child trying not to wet herself. "Shit," she bit out the curse. "What in the void…?"

Solas raised both eyebrows in question, shaking his head. "Vhenan?" he asked with a note of alarm. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she ground out, still standing awkwardly with one leg crossed over the other. Her cheeks were bright red. "I…" She changed position, struggling to bend forward and see between her legs but failing due to the enormous belly blocking her view. "I can't see it but…" She flashed a hard smile, teeth gritted together. "It feels like I need a change of breeches," she admitted, clearing her throat with a look of abject horror.

Glancing down that way, Solas saw a small but noticeable dark stain of moisture. Urine? He felt his own cheeks flush with sympathetic embarrassment, aware of the other four people who could overhear this and see the evidence with their own eyes. His mind cast around, trying to find some way to cover her up or send the others away—or both—but then Sera spoke.

"Oh, love this part, yeah? Your water broke. Looks like you pissed yourself—`cept not."

Both Solas and Ellana stared at Sera, uncomprehending. Ellana was the one who asked, "Water?"

Sera put her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes. "Didn't anyone ever tell you 'bout this shite? I've seen this before, yeah? Friends of mine on the street when they pushed their kids out." She made a sweeping motion with both hands, downward from her crotch. "Whoosh! Water comes out. Then the baby. Well, first screaming and pain and then baby…"

"Ah," Dorian said, "I see. This is real labor, finally."

Solas' heart had started galloping in his chest. Real labor. Turning back to Ellana, he said, "I will carry you, vhenan." He stepped close and knelt to scoop her into his arms, grunting as he took on her weight. "Hold on," he said to her and strode for the door.

She clung to his neck, breath still puffing fast as he strode for the door and into the hall. "This was not how I pictured this evening going," she grumbled, her sweaty hands gripping him tightly. Solas could see the flutter of her pulse at her neck, beating away at a frantic pace.

"Suledin," Solas murmured, adopting a calm and reassuring tone as he masked his own pounding heart. "Suledin. We will endure together."

Next Chapter:

"You know something about childbirth?" Lyris asked Sera.

The archer shrugged. "Maybe." She eyed Lyris through eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. "Why…?"

"I'm asking because you're not pale as a sheet the way the bearded human was…" Lyris turned her head slightly then, jerking it in Solas' direction. "And hahren."

Solas glowered at her but said nothing as Ellana chuckled at his expense, thinking he really did look alarmed by everything. His skin, always pale, had an ashen quality now and a thin sheen of sweat. The hunched set of his shoulders belied unease where he sat in the chair at her bedside with his elbows on his knees.

Sera cackled. "Right yeah? Seen guys toss up their cookies they can't take just watching it. Bunch of scaredy-nugs runnin' round pissing their breeches." She motioned at Solas. "Even daddy droopy ears here who put it in there."