A/N: All right, here we are. I have to get my butt moving on that last chapter and possible epilogue. It's all done except for the gasp! sex scene and I usually have to wait for the right mood to strike me for those. I know, weird right? Excuses, excuses. I've also started writing a new project I may or may not decide to post. Another slight-AU that came about as I read "Dragon Age: Asunder": What would have happened to Solas if he'd woken alone (as in my retelling here) but wasn't rescued by Dalish, but was instead found by templars? Thus I began to imagine a weak, virtually Tranquil Solas the Circle Mage. Naturally, he would plot escape. Anyway, toss in some unexpected allies (a pair of clan-less Dalish mages searching the Free Marches for a new clan) and a few other surprises and maybe I have a fun new story...maybe.
And, as usual, thank you to all my readers, followers, and particularly the reviewers! KiraChan and Lady Ravanna, thank you both for sticking by me so loyally! *blows kisses*
Forty-Five
Restoring the Winter Palace
The Anchor crackled as Ellana focused her mind on it, willing it to activate. The pain burned in her bones, cut at her flesh, but after the agony of childbirth Ellana did little more than wince at it. It was just after dawn the day after she'd given birth and her legs still seemed wobbly, her balance off-kilter despite the healing spells and elfroot tinctures Ellana had taken. Yet no matter how she felt this couldn't be postponed any longer with the threat of an Exalted March or an Orlesian army bearing down on them.
"Whenever you are ready, vhenan," Solas murmured from just behind her, a protective shadow as always. Abelas stood off to her right a little further away. Mahanon, Mathrel, Lyris, Shila, Samhel, and Lerand were also nearby and waiting on her, weapons drawn and ready to fight.
They were in the ruined gardens of the winter palace, surrounded by broken planter pots and scorched cobblestones. The fountain behind her still trickled with water, glimmering as though nothing had happened here, but Ellana still remembered the dead man she'd seen in it on the night of the rebellion. She tried to push that thought from her mind as she raised her left palm and felt the incorporeal grab of the magic snag on the Veil, piercing it. The pain intensified as she focused, the tugging sensation worsening until she clenched her hand into a fist and jerked downward.
With a dull boom that resounded through the gardens, the green of the Fade appeared, shimmering like emeralds and dripping ether. Ellana had aimed the rift low so that she and her companions could step through it once they'd dispensed with the unfortunate spirits who'd be pulled through the tear. That was an unpleasant side-effect of their current method that she and Solas had yet to resolve—how to spare the spirits who became demons at the site of each rift they opened. So far their only solution had been to open as few rifts as possible, accessing the Fade only through that one entry point and enlarging the circles they made to cover more area.
Green tendrils shot out from the rift, bubbling with ether as the first few demons materialized. Gripping her bow—the new one Solas had given her—Ellana nocked her first arrow and fired through a wisp across the courtyard. The long shot dispersed the wisp's essence, sending it streaming back toward the rift in a blur of green. Solas grunted from just behind her and she heard his fire roar as she pivoted in time to see he'd incinerated a shade into ashes.
Lyris and Mathrel Fade stepped around the rift, slashing at a terror demon with their spectral blades buzzing. They moved in a synchronized dance, darting in while the other feinted, striking and then whirling away. Despite the gloominess of the dawn—the skies seem to promise rain with their dour clouds—the bonded pair's armor gleamed, reflecting the green light of the rift as they worked together.
Mahanon stayed with Shila, throwing barriers up over the group and then casting ice while Shila worked lightning with a crackle. Abelas Fade stepped through a shade lurching its way toward Ellana, freezing it solid. Solas let out a mindblast, shattering the demon and knocking back a few others that'd taken an interest in Ellana.
Lerand, Lyris, and Samhel killed the last wisp across the courtyard and the rift shuddered, flashing with a small boom as another wave of spirits was torn through. More tendrils appeared, bubbling. Ellana backed away from the nearest one, anticipating by its larger shape that it would sprout into a rage demon or possibly a pride demon. Solas and Abelas both moved with her, guardians whose magic made her skin tingle.
When the demon emerged Ellana groaned as it expanded into a pride demon. The beast let out a low roar, bristling and toothy as it surveyed the courtyard and ruined gardens. Ellana nocked an arrow and fired immediately as both Solas and Abelas sprang into action as well. Abelas cast a barrier over them and then lobbed ice chunks at it while Solas made a huffing sound, scowling at the demon as if he could intimidate it into retreating back into the Fade.
Ellana shot him a perplexed sidelong glance, baffled for a moment by his lack of action, but then felt the tingle on her skin intensify until she was dizzy with it. A heartbeat later Solas unleashed another mindblast in a wave of pale green energy. The force of it whipped Ellana's hair, making her cringe. The pride demon and all the others in the courtyard staggered at the blow. The explosion of it left Ellana's ears ringing.
Blinking, she looked up and saw the pride demon, as the enemy closest to Solas, had disintegrated. Its essence trailed off in a green streak toward the Fade rift. Now she grinned at Solas, relieved that he'd spared them the nasty fight—only to reach out for him in concern as she saw him sag as if the weight of his own body was suddenly too much.
"Are you okay?" she asked, squeezing his bicep.
"Yes," he said, flashing her a quick reassuring smile. "It is only temporary. I expended too much mana too quickly."
Lyris and Mathrel, along with Mahanon and Shila, had moved to cut down the last demon on the field yet alive. In just a few attacks they'd struck it down as well. The rift shuddered and let out another crackling rumble as it shrank, ready to be closed with all the nearby spirits exhausted. The Anchor tugged on Ellana's hand, long experience making her start to lift her palm as if to close it before she remembered herself and instead strode toward it.
"Let's get this over with," she said with a sigh as she gazed across the courtyard at her companions. "Everyone who's coming, follow me."
Stepping through the rift, Ellana immediately yelped and slipped, falling as her foot plopped into a substantial and deep puddle of water—or Fade ether, actually. Solas, close behind her, snatched her arm before she could topple over. Breathing deep to settle her pounding heart, Ellana smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you."
"Of course," he said with a nod and a small smile of his own. As Abelas and the others began to file through, taking in the sandy expanse of the raw Fade around them, dappled as it was with extensive, sloppy puddles and mists of green ether, Solas guided Ellana gently off to one side. His blue eyes searched over her, pinched at the edges with worry. "How are you feeling, vhenan?"
Her shoulders slumped. "Tired." That was an understatement. She rubbed at her face and grimaced at the grit she found on her cheeks. Her joints felt loose and achy, her abdominal muscles seemed sloppy and slow. Her belly had shrunken greatly after delivering, but her equilibrium remained off. And it wasn't merely her body that felt off-center. Her arms seemed empty without the baby in them and she kept feeling as though she'd forgotten something essential—like forgetting to put on pants before admitting someone into her bedchambers at Skyhold.
"After what you've been through, I would expect that to be an understatement," Solas said, smirking with amusement. It was as if he'd read her mind. The glimmer of affection and admiration in his gaze made something inside her chest flush with warmth. He sobered a moment later, the smile falling from his lips. "Ir abelas. I wish we did not have to rush to—"
"It's okay," she said, reaching out to cup his cheek, stroking it with her thumb. "This isn't your fault."
Now he frowned. "It is, actually." He laid his own hand over hers, gripping it and squeezing. "Had I listened to you, we would be in the Emerald Graves now and none of this would be a concern. You would be resting and we would both be getting to know our son." His smile returned, tender with love as he tentatively added the baby's name. "Sylvun."
She squeezed his hand. "We can't change the past; only learn from it for the sake of the future. But Sylvun isn't going anywhere." She smiled, quashing her own anxiousness at not having her baby in her arms. She'd left him with Rinaya and her mother, and she had no doubt both women would be perfect caretakers for her little son. Rinaya could even feed him as she'd still been nursing Deya regularly enough that her milk remained plentiful. It was a good thing too—Sylvun was a ravenous little thing.
"Ma serannas," Solas replied, leaning his forehead to rest against hers.
"For what?" she asked, glancing to where Abelas had taken charge of the others, ordering Shila and Samhel to go in one direction and begin the first runes while he accompanied Mathrel and Lerand the opposite way, leaving Mahanon to guard the rift itself. Lyris had stayed behind in the waking world to guard the rift on that side.
"For your forgiveness," Solas answered, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace that was far tighter than it'd been in months now that her belly no longer acted as a physical barrier. "For your perseverance." He paused a moment, letting out a wavering breath. "For our son."
She smiled, chuckling with love at his earnestness. "Mamae was right," she teased. "You really are smitten."
"Fen'Harel," a voice called out from behind Solas, further away from the rift.
Ellana sensed Solas stiffen and a heartbeat later he sighed, withdrawing and pivoting on one heel to glance at Shila, the one who'd called to him. One of his hands remained at her waist, the fingers twitching idly, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to part from her just yet. Past him in the distance, Ellana saw Shila and Samhel standing in the tawny sand of the raw Fade at the edge of a vast expanse of mist-covered water. It was clear they needed him to reshape the Fade in order to progress any further.
"Duty calls," Ellana murmured, breaking away from Solas and sidestepping through the muck at her feet to stand closer to the pulsating green light of the Fade rift. "Go to them," she said.
Solas glanced at her with a solemn expression before nodding. She watched him walk away, his tread confident and sure despite the uneven, messy footing. A sigh from off to her right drew her gaze to where Mahanon stood, leaning against a lumpy gray rock that rose to about shoulder height out of the muck and sand. Reddish weeds grew out of it at the base and on the end opposite where Mahanon stood she spied a gilded vase with a green-gray decorative bush growing from it.
"I remember when Deya was as tiny as your little one is now," Mahanon told her, his hazel eyes wistful. "I couldn't stop watching her or holding her or worrying about her. I'd lie awake just listening to her breathe."
Struggling not to feel the tug of anxious love twisting inside her at his words, Ellana smirked as she opted for humor instead. "Are you going to convince Rinaya to give you another?"
Mahanon met her stare with an unreadable look and then spoke as if he hadn't heard her question. "It's strange. So much has already changed for our people—for our clan. Deshanna discouraged us from having more children before Solas and you came to us in the fall. We couldn't risk having any more mages." He shook his head, anger crossing his face a moment before he relaxed again. "Now Deshanna has been encouraging us to have more children, as many as we want…"
Ellana sensed the unspoken but in his words and waited, arching her brow with expectation. Mahanon stayed quiet a moment, distracted by watching Solas work with Shila and Samhel. The Fade shuddered around them and Ellana shivered, her skin tingling and the Anchor crackling. The light changed between one blink of her eye and the next. The raw Fade had vanished, leaving a replica of the gardens and winter palace courtyard from the waking world. The sky was blue and bright rather than the cloudy gloom they'd left behind, and Fade ether clung to the potted plants and the water in the fountain, but otherwise it was a near-perfect likeness—and all wrought by Solas' power.
Licking his lips, Mahanon spoke again, "We'll be immortal, Lana. Once this is all done, as long as we're in the Dales—in our homeland—we'll live forever."
"It sounds wonderful," she murmured softly. "And too good to be true."
"Yes," Mahanon agreed with a sage nod. "But the more I think about it, the more I can see the drawbacks. If we no longer die, yet we continue having children…" He frowned. "It is unsustainable. The earth will not feed us all eventually."
"Abelas told me once that all of Thedas wasn't enough for Elvhenan," she murmured, sighing. How long would the People be content with the Dales? How long before they'd grow too numerous for their lands to sustain and would march on Orlais or Ferelden?
"Exactly," Mahanon said with a frown. His hazel eyes were sad as he stared at her. "So, in answer to your question about having more children…" His jaw clenched and he shook his head. "Not for some time."
"It's something we'll have to think about," Ellana agreed. "An issue that will need to be addressed."
A shout from in the distance drew her attention then. Far across the courtyard Ellana saw Abelas, Mathrel, and Lerand had completed their half of the rune circle while Shila and Samhel were about three-quarters done. Solas moved between the finished runes, adding to them one by one using a finger to dip into the blood. He'd told Cole long ago in a conversation Ellana had overheard that he didn't practice blood magic. She could see the truth of that now as he'd never offered to use his own blood for the runes. Instead they spread that task out among everyone who accompanied them.
Flexing her left hand, Ellana flashed Mahanon a quick smile. "Time for me to make myself useful again."
Mahanon snorted. "As if you could ever be anything except useful."
Smiling to herself, Ellana trotted away over the now solidified Fade, transformed as it was into the garden courtyard of the winter palace. At the rune where Mathrel, Abelas, and Lerand waited, Ellana stopped about two meters shy and stared at the crimson stain on the pallid stone of the courtyard wall. Surveying it to be certain Solas had added the notations that'd make it semi-permeable, allowing spirits to pass through, she nodded her approval. "Who drew this one?"
"I did," Lerand answered, beaming with pride at the accomplishment. "Abelas taught me."
"Very good," she told him and then shot Abelas a smile of appreciation. "Thank you for taking the time to teach him."
Abelas stared at her with a blank expression, though there was something akin to amusement in his golden eyes. He shrugged. "Lerand asked. There is no need to thank me."
She smirked. "Just take the compliment, lethallin."
"We would do well to teach more among the Dalish," Mathrel suggested.
"Then that's what we'll do," Ellana said with a nod. "Will you three teach as many as you can going forward?" As they answered in the affirmative with a mixture of verbal and nonverbal responses, Ellana said, "Good. Ma serannas." Focusing on the rune ahead of her, she raised her left palm, wincing at the flare of pain as it sprang to life. "Here goes…"
Green light shot out in a short blast from her palm, crackling and flickering as it contacted the rune. In a few moments the blood seemed to have absorbed the energy and glowed, fully activated. Only seven more to go, she thought and started for the next rune.
This was only the beginning, though. They'd have to do several more circles just to encompass the palace, ever widening them to take in more. Then, after the palace had been restored, they'd do the same for Halamshiral and some of the surrounding lands if they had time before another threat arrived. It'd be hours yet before Ellana could rest or return to Sylvun. The thought made her heart ache, her arms empty and her eyes prickling with emotion.
As she reached the next rune, with Abelas, Lerand, and Mathrel tailing her, Ellana made eye contact with Solas, who was on his way to help with Shila and Samhel's half of the enormous circle. He smiled at her, soft and full of encouragement, as if he'd read her thoughts and hoped to offer strength or reassurance. All too soon the moment ended and Ellana faced the rune in front of her again, returning to work. Yet she felt tougher now, as if Solas had managed to impart her with some fortitude.
She raised her left hand as the Anchor crackled again and thought, Let's do this.
It was near dusk when Ellana activated the last rune in the waking world, completing the final circle that'd restore the Fade to the winter palace. No matter how often he experienced it, the moment when the Fade at last meshed with reality always made Solas stagger with the shock as his mana reserves swelled and the blissful caress of magic in the very air sang through him. A few of the others reacted similarly, flinching and gasping, stumbling in place and reaching for the nearest structure to steady themselves. Considering they were standing outside the palace's gates, that meant there was precious little to grab onto.
After the initial shock passed, Solas blinked and straightened, staring into the sky. The sunset had already colored the sky with yellow, orange, and red as it sank toward the horizon, but now Solas saw green and pink in the light. Black rocks hovered in the sky off to his right, glistening with moisture. The Black City was to the south; a perpetual blemish in what would have otherwise been a spectacularly beautiful view.
The elves with them here had all seen the Fade-restored sky and land, but there were scores inside the palace who'd just felt the change for the first time. Solas could hear distant shouts as they reacted now—and not all of them sounded pleased. He'd coordinated with Dalish and Elvhen who'd come from the Emerald Graves to try and prepare the Halamshiral elves for the coming change, but ultimately nothing that they said could prepare for the actual experience. There'd inevitably be accidents as these elves discovered and accidentally used their magic for the first time.
With that in mind, Solas had suggested to Ellana that she send any elves who were deathly afraid of the Fade—like Sera—away to Val Royeaux. He'd also urged her to send Rainier and Dorian away with Sera, to seek out the Divine and possibly Celene. They could act as ambassadors, hopefully opening up a line of dialogue that could lead to peace without the need for a brutal war the likes of which Thedas hadn't seen since before the fall of Elvhenan.
Sera had left for Halamshiral during the day, while their group worked to complete the first rune circle, but Rainier and Dorian had refused to leave just yet. Solas didn't know why they insisted on staying, but he had far more pressing concerns than worrying about the motives of the two human men.
Finding Ellana standing beside the last activated rune, Solas said, "We must return to the palace to ensure there are no accidents as the People adjust."
She gave him a weary look, shoulders slumping as if he'd just thrust weights onto her. "Can you see to it, emma lath?" she asked, voice quiet and slow.
Solas frowned, stepping closer and reaching for her with concern. "Are you unwell?"
She sighed, leaning into his touch as he laid a hand over her cheek. "Just tired. And…" She smiled sluggishly. "I need to hold Sylvun again."
Now Solas smiled broadly, leaning close to kiss her, quick and tender. "Go on then, vhenan. I will join you as soon as I can."
As Ellana left, Solas caught Mahanon's gaze following after his sister. With a small gesture, Solas indicated he should go with her. Obedient, Mahanon trotted off to catch up with Ellana, leaving Solas to take charge of the remaining elves. He split the group into two, sending Abelas, Mathrel, Lerand, and Shila to Halamshiral to begin warning the city elves that in a few days the Fade would be restored there just as it had been now in the winter palace and the Emerald Graves. The others—himself, Lyris, and Samhel—returned to the palace to reassure the elves there.
As they entered the palace gardens, jogging by shattered pots and scorch marks marring the cobblestones, Solas saw the blue-white streak of someone Fade stepping toward them. The shape blurred down the stairs, coming straight toward them. Solas tensed, sensing that only bad news warranted such a rush. Raising a hand to signal to the others around him to halt, he waited in the courtyard until the person rushing toward them came clear. It was Var, flushed and panting.
"Fen'Harel," he said, puffing. "A raven arrived…just before sundown."
Var extended one hand and Solas took the small proffered scroll. The seal on it was Orlesian and had already been broken, indicating someone else had read it—not that Solas cared. He unrolled it and skimmed quickly over it as Var summarized it, apparently unable to hold back.
"Orlais has declared war on us and demands our immediate surrender."
Solas clenched his jaw, still reading over the scroll. "How very expected." Yet, as he searched over the paper, he noticed with a bubble of relief that lessened his tension that although Orlais' declaration called on the "faithful" for aid in retaking the Dales and Halamshiral, it didn't claim there'd been an alliance between the Chantry or the Inquisition. It also made no mention of an Exalted March, though it did seem to be inviting the Divine to chime in with agreement. Was this a sign that Cassandra and Leliana were reconsidering their Exalted March?
"Any idea when they'll attack?" Samhel asked from behind him.
"They won't announce that," Solas answered blankly. "Yet I suspect we can expect it to arrive within a matter of days."
"Will we be ready by then?" Lyris asked, frowning.
"Yes," Solas replied and tucked the scroll into his belt. We had better be…
Sylvun stared up at her, gray-blue eyes hazy and lidded. He made little grunts as he squirmed occasionally in her arms. Having been fed, burped, and bathed, the baby was content and fast slipping toward sleep in Ellana's arms. It was impossible to look at him and not see Solas in the shape of his nose and eyes; even in his hands he already had his father's longer, slender fingers. Yet Ellana saw traces of her own face and her family's features in the tiny baby the longer she watched him. Currently the set of his eyebrows reminded her of Mahanon and their father.
"He's undoubtedly filling his pants, you know," Dorian told her from her right bedside. "It seems as though that's all he's done today. If you were wondering what you'd missed, love, I can assure you that was pretty much the extent of it."
Rainier, slightly further away at the foot of her bed, agreed with a chuckle. "Dorian's right. Seemed as though your mother and the other elven woman with her would hardly finish changing him once and he'd already wet himself again." He laughed as he added, "Little fella's worse than a drunkard at a wedding."
Ellana stayed quiet as they spoke, absorbed by Sylvun's miniature fists with their surprisingly strong grip. Rinaya and her mother had both left for the moment to find food for the evening meal for the adults now that the baby was satisfied and would likely soon be sleeping. It was dark outside and Ellana was so tired she was ready to pass out as soon as Sylvun drifted off. Dorian and Rainier had told her they planned to set off for Val Royeaux the following morning, which meant this evening was for goodbyes and last minute plans. They were here currently as much to bid her farewell, see Sylvun, and corner Solas with some demands.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, a familiar tread thumped down the hallway. Ellana recognized Mathrel and Lyris' footsteps, and underlying them were Solas' softer, more graceful footfalls. She looked up from Sylvun in her arms to the doorway just as Dorian and Rainier did, seeing Solas stride through it and immediately frown at the two men.
Tucking his hands behind his back, Solas asked with an unmistakable note of irritation, "Have we so few beds in the winter palace that the both of you must sleep here?"
Dorian snorted. "As a matter of fact, yes, that's exactly it." He motioned at Rainier. "Thom and I were just waiting on you to show up and conjure us a big feather bed out of thin air." He wriggled his fingers for dramatic effect. "That is something you can do now, yes?"
Solas shifted his stance slightly, his expression impassive. "What do you need?"
"I could go for a nice ale," Rainier quipped, smirking. "If that's something you can magic up along with the bed."
"Enough," Ellana grumbled, speaking before they could devolve into outright arguing rather than just sarcasm and barbed comments. She shot Dorian a frown briefly before she spoke to Solas, "Dorian had a suggestion for you. He's willing to carry a message to everyone in Val Royeaux on our behalf, but in exchange he—"
"I want the chaos in Tevinter to end," Dorian cut her off, taking over. "My homeland has seen enough of it between the elven rebellion and Qunari incursions." His brown eyes narrowed, glaring. His voice had a bite to it, sharp and angry. "It needs to stop and I know you can make that happen."
Solas returned the Tevinter magister's glare for several long, heavy seconds. Then he looked to Ellana and sighed. "The Imperium is the last holdout of slavery in Thedas," he said with a small frown. "It must be abolished." In the dim candlelight of the room Solas' face had been cast in harsh planes of darkness and orange-yellow flickering. It made him look sinister—though it had that effect on everyone in the room.
"Slavery or the Imperium itself?" Ellana asked him.
"If one cannot be ended without the other's elimination, then both must be destroyed," Solas replied.
"I've been working on that," Dorian snapped. "Just give me time. Chaos isn't helping the situation."
Solas stared at Dorian and the silence dragged out. Ellana saw her lover's face twist, nostrils flaring and shoulders hunched, as if anticipating a fight. But then he seemed to deflate and his eyes flew to her and stayed on her as he said, "I promised I would defer to your judgment, vhenan. Please, tell me your position in this."
Despite the exhaustion weighing her thoughts down, Ellana smiled at him. "Give Dorian a chance to make reforms. Change takes time."
"Except when it does not," Solas retorted with an unhappy scowl. "Your actions proved as much when you chose to support mage freedom by allying with them in Redcliffe." His glare shifted to Dorian. "And you did so despite the chaos of the time."
Dorian scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Mages gaining some measure of freedom in the south and abolishing slavery in my homeland are two very different things. For one thing, there are many thousands of slaves and there were only—"
Solas looked back at Ellana, cutting Dorian off by talking over him. "Tevinter has had a thousand years since the time of Andraste to end slavery, yet it has not done so. Allowing the Imperium additional time seems pointless given their history." His eyes narrowed, wordlessly pleading with her. "Before you make your decision, please consider that."
Ellana clenched her jaw, unable to deny the truth of Solas' argument and yet also unwilling to support his solution. Drawing in a breath, she shifted Sylvun in her arms when she felt him squirm, and spoke in a quiet voice. "Sometimes change only comes with the right leaders." Her eyes cut to Dorian and she smiled with the warm affection she felt for him bubbling in her chest. "Do you think you can end slavery in the Imperium? Can you be the leader it needs for true reform?"
Dorian changed position, fidgeting as he puffed himself up. "I certainly intend to be that man, yes."
"That is not good enough," Solas snapped, taking a threatening step closer. "Unless your intent involves using mass blood magic to change the other magisters' minds."
Dorian cringed, sneering at the mere suggestion. "That's no better than slavery," he snarled.
"On that we are agreed," Solas growled. "But that brings us no closer to a true solution for ending slavery in the Imperium."
Now Dorian scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "And I suppose you think your so-called solution is the right one? Chaos and killing and rebellion? Mass rioting and assassination? Anarchy?"
"Enough," Ellana said, raising her voice slightly and then wincing when Sylvun made a little grunting sound and wiggled again in her arms. Solas and Dorian both looked to her, one with lingering irritation and the other with a sudden, intense paternal interest. Sighing, Ellana gently cuddled Sylvun a moment before making her pronouncement. "We need to compromise. Solas—give Dorian another chance to do things his way, in the interest of peace and alliance."
He frowned at her but she didn't miss the meaningful dip of his eyes taking in the bundle in her arms that was Sylvun. Nodding, he said, "Ma nuvenin, vhenan."
She shot Dorian a look now, somber and dark. "Dorian—the Imperium needs to abolish slavery, once and for all. If you cannot achieve it in a few years through traditional means…" She frowned and shook her head, letting the rest remain unsaid.
Dorian's shoulders slumped. "I see."
Rainier cleared his throat then, speaking for the first time since the argument began. "I can't support rebellion, but I have to agree with Lady Lavellan. The Imperium's had ages to change and they haven't."
Rolling his eyes, Dorian waved dismissively at the warrior. "Yes, yes. You've all made your point clear." Glancing sourly at Ellana he added, "Just…warn me before you unleash the damned Dread Wolf on us again, yes?"
"You have my word," she answered solemnly.
"Well, that's something then." Sighing, Dorian said, "I suppose we should retire for the night, Thom. Morning comes round early." He rose from his seat at her bedside and started for the door. Rainier moved with him, his armor clanking. Ellana didn't miss the way they both made wide arcs around Solas, as if they feared he had Blight and might spread it to them if they came too close.
When she and Solas were alone, Ellana offered him a small, tired smile. "Mamae and Rinaya should be back with something to eat soon, if you're hungry."
He shook his head slightly in the negative and walked slowly toward the bed, his expression tender though his eyes held something dark and somber. "Have you heard of the raven that arrived from Val Royeaux just before sunset?" he asked quietly.
Arching her brows, she said, "No…bad news, I assume?"
One corner of Solas' mouth twitched upward. "There is so rarely any other kind, sadly." At her bedside he reached out and touched her hair and then her cheek, his motions gentle and slow, reverent. "Orlais has declared war upon us," he told her, voice quiet and somber.
"Well, we knew that was coming." Letting out a long breath, Ellana leaned into his hand, letting her eyes drift shut. His fingers left a tingling sensation as they caressed her cheek, stirring something warm and pleasant inside her chest. Her mana core, which had been as sluggish as her body until now, responded with the ardor of a lover. She inhaled sharply at the sensation, having nearly forgotten how…enjoyable…magic was.
Actually, enjoyable wasn't the right word. Pleasurable.
Sylvun wiggled, moving his head and blinking sleepily, drawing both of his parents' attention as he let out a tiny coo. Solas chuckled, his hand dropping to stroke the baby's fuzzy auburn hair. "Ir abelas, ma ishalen," he said. "I did not mean to disturb you."
"You can make it up to him by changing him the next time he needs it," Ellana teased. She watched, smiling as Solas brushed the baby's cheek and Sylvun turned his head, lips questing for a nipple only to latch onto his father's finger. He suckled, eyes drifting shut as his tiny mouth worked.
Leaving his finger in the baby's mouth, Solas eased himself onto the bed beside Ellana. They watched in contented silence as Sylvun seemed to gradually fall asleep despite the ongoing sucking motions of his mouth. Finally Ellana turned her head and gazed at Solas with a dry smile as she asked in a near-whisper, "When do you think the Orlesians will arrive?"
"I suspect the raven was sent at the same time as their army was dispatched," he answered, also barely above a whisper, still watching Sylvun. "It will be a day or two if that is the case. That will provide us with enough time to restore the Fade to Halamshiral and a few miles beyond both the palace and the city, ideally." Now he frowned and looked to her, his eyes crinkling at the edges with regret. "I am sorry this will take you away from him for so long."
She flashed him a half-smile. "There isn't any other choice, emma lath." Sobering a heartbeat later, she swallowed the abrupt lump that formed in her throat as her heart began to pound. Conflicting emotions tore through her when she considered the impending arrival and attack by the Orlesians. There was a knot in her chest, hot and tight with something akin to anger that Celene couldn't have just honored the accord she signed, couldn't have seen the rightness of returning the Dales to the People, of mending the Broken Promise.
She'd been so certain when she fled Halamshiral and when Solas had found her in the Arbor Wilds that unleashing Solas' full power would be unwarranted and wrong. But now, with Sylvun in her arms, Ellana could only feel that hot, protective wrath blooming inside her. The humans had done nothing but subjugate the People, breaking their promise and robbing them of their lands and freedom. Eventually it felt the same as with slavery in Tevinter. How much mercy and patience did they really deserve when the Orlesians and the Chantry and the Inquisition would just imprison or execute her and Solas if they could? And little Sylvun would inevitably wind up in a Circle, locked away for life though he'd committed no crimes short of being born with magic.
Her arms, holding Sylvun, tensed with the hot surge of maternal rage. "Solas," she murmured, her voice strained with emotion. "I…" Sucking in a quavering breath, she met his gray-blue eyes with her own. "You'll be able to stop them? However many there are?" She felt herself shudder and tried to minimize the motion to avoid disturbing Sylvun.
Solas stared at her, his gaze roving over her face for a moment before he said, "I will stop them, vhenan." A small, almost timid smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "With you at my side."
She felt herself relax with relief, returning his smile with one of her own. Eyes darting to his lips, she leaned closer, going in for a kiss. Solas met her part way, his lips warm and soft as they caressed hers.
Then, from the doorway, came the sound of a tongue clucking. Ellana and Solas pulled apart, staring in that direction to see her mother and Rinaya grinning at them. "Now, now," Ellana's mother admonished in a soft voice as Rinaya strode to the small desk beside one of the windows and set a tray laden with food and tea onto it. "You have to give the first little one at least a few months to grow before you make him a brother or sister."
Ellana bit back the desire to groan, though she did roll her eyes. "Mamae…"
Solas chuckled and nodded his head in an exaggerated gesture of respect directed at her mother. "Ma serannas, hahren, for your wisdom."
Ellana's mother beamed at him and then shifted her attention to her daughter, teasing. "You see, Lana? Those are manners."
Shaking her head in amusement and trying not to laugh for fear it'd bother Sylvun, Ellana couldn't help but smirk at Solas with the thought that the Dread Wolf had better manners than her, according to her own mother. "Ir abelas, mamae," she intoned quietly. "My shame knows no bounds."
"Just wait until Sylvun pees on you," Rinaya quipped, grinning. "Then you can say your shame knows no bounds."
Elven Used
Ma Ishalen: My son
Next Chapter:
"What does Solas want to do?" Ellana asked, voice somber.
Mathrel blinked at her and answered in deadpan. "End them, of course."
"The ones scaling the walls around Halamshiral?" she asked, though she already suspected she was wrong in that guess.
Mathrel shook his head. "The entire army."