A/N: Longer than typical chapter this time! Just as a little warning for those who may be squeamish...I chose to include somewhat "graphic" levels of details regarding breastfeeding at the insistence of my beta, who wanted realism. I grew up around nurses and my mother and family are all dogged breastfeeding supporters, so such details just wind up in my story. I apologize if that makes anyone uncomfortable but...eh, #sorry-not-sorry as the saying goes. You can just skip over those details while reading if they bother you.

Thank you again to all followers, lurkers, and reviewers! *kisses*

Forty-Six

The Orlesian Army

Both Ellana and Ashani helped Solas adjust the sling holding Sylvun until it was over his chest and strapped on his shoulders comfortably. The soft halla leather cradled the baby in place, within easy reach and yet freeing up his hands. Mothers in Solas' village long ago had often placed their infants in similar slings and carriers to better remain active and useful to the community. Solas suspected his own parents had carried him in something like this sling, long ago when he'd been a newborn.

"There you go," Ashani said, pulling a step back and surveying him up and down. "Comfortable?"

"Indeed," Solas answered with a nod, one arm cradling the lump that was his son—drowsy and placid after his most recent feeding. "More so than my pack, in fact."

"He'll get heavier," Ashani said with a smirk. "If he hasn't already."

"Are you sure he's getting enough to eat?" Ellana asked her mother, brows furrowed with anxiety. Sylvun was four days old now and constantly ravenous, crying every few hours for a feeding. Solas had no idea what was normal for an infant as he'd spent virtually no time around one before this. Like any new topic he wasn't well-versed in, Solas followed the wisdom of someone better educated in the subject, which meant he took Ashani and Rinaya's word as law. Ashani seemed unbothered by the frequent crying and had been shrugging off Ellana's nervous questions repeatedly. Therefore, Solas quashed any lingering doubt or uncertainty he had regarding his son's appetite.

Ashani flashed her daughter a reassuring smile. "If he cries right after you nurse him, then you might start to worry. But he'll let us know. All you have to worry about is taking care of yourself to make sure you have enough milk for him."

While mother and daughter continued chatting, Solas strolled to the window to stare out at the afternoon sunlight. Greenish Fade ether curled over the pale cobblestones in the courtyard below and a playful wisp had begun circling a hedge like a dog chasing its tail. Seeing it brought a smile to Solas' lips. The Veil remained in place and there were thousands of spirits—of all types whether neutral, friendly, or hostile—still cut off from the realm of the living. Yet, in this little spot of perfection, Thedas could be whole and Solas saw the wisp's exuberance in its circling of the hedge as an unmistakable sign of its innocent joy. It was truly something worthy of celebration.

Glancing down at the desk beside the window, Solas saw an empty glass with a few brownish flecks of tea all that remained from the tincture Ashani had prepared for Ellana at lunch—an herbal supplement to help with lactation. Laying a finger on the cool glass, he reached outward with his magic and willed the bits of herbs and tea away. With little puffs of smoke the herbs disappeared, becoming gray smoke that then dissolving into green Fade ether.

With the glass now clean, Solas made a small grabbing motion in the air above the glass and felt the Fade ripple in response. Water tinkled, quickly filling the glass out of thin air, summoned from the ether. Warm pleasure swelled in his chest as he smiled down at his work. Tapping a finger against the glass, he chilled it with a smidgen of ice magic and gripped it, raising it to his lips to sip—only to stop as he registered Ellana's ongoing worrying behind him and had a new idea.

Considering the wisp again and holding onto that joy and triumph, Solas dipped a finger into the chilled water, imbibing it with that emotion. It was a simple practice, but long since forgotten by Thedas post-Veil. The water had a few bright specks in it, almost like ice, but tinted faintly blue. It was a mark of the magic he'd left within it, which had taken on his affinity for the school of ice.

Returning to Ellana, Solas laid a hand on her shoulder and proffered the glass. "Sip this, vhenan."

She took it from him without question but raised an eyebrow as she registered the slight coloration and glinting within the clear liquid. "Is this water? What did you…" She frowned, switching the glass from one hand to the other and Solas realized he could see the green seam of the Anchor, reacting. It was peculiar in what set it off and what didn't. "You enchanted it?" she asked.

Smiling at her, he nodded. "I did." He motioned at her encouragingly. "Drink and I will draw you a bath if you like."

"Don't you mean conjure one?" Ashani asked, chuckling. "I have to say, I wish Fehorn could have conjured me a bath after I had Mahanon. But no, we had to do it the old fashioned way by finding a hot spring or just dipping in the chilly river."

Solas smirked at her. "I would be happy to conjure you a bath as well," he said.

Ellana snorted, grinning at him. "Show off and brown noser? You're just an overachiever today."

Solas returned her grin with one of his own. "I prefer to describe myself as a man of many talents."

Still gazing at him over the rim of the glass, Ellana sipped a quick mouthful from it and, after swallowing, swayed as if dizzy. Then, abruptly, she laughed in great, long peals before clapping a hand over her mouth to try and stifle the sound for fear of waking Sylvun, dozing inside the sling Solas wore. Ashani looked between Solas and Ellana with curiosity. "What was in that?"

"A simple emotional enchantment," Solas replied, watching Ellana with a smile. "A common practice in Elvhenan, but forgotten in this world because it is difficult to do without the Fade."

Ellana sipped again as he spoke, beaming with joy just as Solas had intended. "How long does it last?" she asked, smirking. "Am I going to be giggling all day or just the next few minutes?"

"Only a few minutes," Solas answered. "The magic I used was mild. I was never particularly invested in mastering it."

"May I?" Ashani asked, reaching for the glass. Ellana passed it to her and the older woman took a small sip, immediately flushing and laughing as well. Just as Ellana had she cut off the sounds with a hand over her mouth, eyes springing open wide as raw joy suffused her features. She snorted again, losing control of the laughter as Ellana took the glass back from her.

"How could anyone forget such a thing?" Ashani exclaimed. "I could think of dozens of uses for liquid happiness that isn't addictive or intoxicating." Pausing, she suddenly shot Solas a wary look. "It isn't any of those things actually, is it?"

Solas chuckled as he shook his head in the negative. "Not in the physical sense, no. However, there were plenty who grew obsessed and imbibed too often—or such was my opinion." At her contemplative frown he sighed. "Another reason I did not learn it with any finesse."

"Well," Ellana said, swishing the water round the glass in a circular motion. "If you can teach mamae how to do it I'm sure she'd want to use it as medicine."

Ashani nodded. "For the grief-stricken and heartbroken a little draught of happiness would be ideal—in moderation of course."

Solas agreed and smiled at her encouragingly, though he suspected the knowledge would quickly expand into abuse just as it had in Elvhenan. Of course it'd also been an art in its greatest heyday. Solas had attended plays in Arlathan where the beverages served had all been masterfully enchanted with emotion that matched the theatrical and dramatic mood of the production. A viewer could choose to experience the emotions of a wide range of characters on stage simply by drinking a bit of wine or eating a little bread. The enchantments changed throughout the play, triggered by actors' lines from onstage.

Such entertainment had been a staple of life in Elvhenan, and one of Mythal's favorite ways to spend her time. And time it was—plays could go on for weeks with scarcely a break for sleeping or relieving one's self. For most of the Evanuris such spectacles were common and expected, but for Solas, however, it'd been a display of excess. While the People had infinite time for such activities, they still needed to eat and drink. Crops needed harvesting, food required preparation, and all the tedious work of maintaining the trappings of civilization—the buildings, streets, magical constructs, and so much more—could not be ignored. And yet, most of the time, the other Evanuris did exactly that by enjoying the ostentatious excesses of the highest upper class while ignoring the backbreaking work needed to sustain it.

"I think I will take that bath now," Ellana said after sipping the last bit of water from the glass. She smiled at him, unguarded and lazy with the effects of the enchantment. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble for you," she teased.

"I believe I can manage it," he replied, glad to be drawn from his reverie on the distant past.

Ashani spoke up then: "While she's in the tub I'd like to—"

Footsteps pounded in the hall outside the doorway, interrupting Ashani and making Solas tense. He recognized the tread of the approaching person and anticipated trouble would invariably arrive with him. Facing the doorway, he watched as Var trotted through it, slightly winded and with his eyes as round and wide as they could go. "Hahren," he called, gaze darting quickly over the two women with Solas. "Scouts report an army marching from northwest, just a few hours out. Their banners are Orlesian."

Feeling both Ellana and Ashani's eyes on him, Solas clenched his jaw but otherwise remained unfazed. "I understand, falon." Hesitating a moment, he idly brushed a hand over the lump of his son sleeping in the safety of the halla leather sling. "Did they have an estimation of how many we will face? And was there no sign of Chantry or Inquisition forces?"

In the few days since Orlais had declared war on them, Ellana and Solas had worked feverishly to restore the Fade to Halamshiral and a swath of land between the palace and the city and around it for about a mile. The work was exhausting, requiring them to cross back and forth routinely between the Fade-restored areas and the broader Veil-strangled remainder of Thedas, but they'd managed it. It'd helped that they could return to the palace at night and enjoy the physical benefits of the Fade, which diminished their need for food, drink, and even sleep—a side effect of the gift of agelessness. Sylvun, as a growing infant, didn't experience such benefits though, as evidenced by his constant ravenousness. Solas stroked the halla leather sling again at the thought of his son as he watched Var's expression, trying to read it as either positive or negative.

"The scouts report sightings of small groups of other forces, but they fly no banner so we cannot be certain who they are," Var said as he shuffled from foot to foot. "And as for the Orlesians' numbers…" Scowling, he let out a long breath. "Perhaps five thousand infantry and an additional five hundred chevaliers."

Solas nodded, ignoring Ashani and Ellana's sharp inhalations. He'd hoped they would send fewer, but it was still less than he'd feared—but no matter. Even doubled Solas was confident he could thwart them. The true danger was if the Divine and the Inquisition threw in their numbers. The Inquisition alone could wield a force more than twice Orlais' and the Chantry would command hundreds of Templars and every pitchfork-wielding devout peasant. A force as large as that could possibly get around his defenses and endanger the city unless Solas took drastic action—mainly of the incredibly violent kind.

"I see," he said and, slow with reluctance, pivoted to face Ashani and Ellana. "I'll need you to watch Sylvun."

"I'm coming with you," Ellana said at once, firm and unyielding as her eyes locked on his.

Smiling at her humorlessly, Solas said, "I expected as much, vhenan. But you should not unduly endanger yourself." He laid both hands on her shoulders, squeezing to try and impart the seriousness of what he said. "I cannot afford to be distracted with worry for you should something go awry."

She sighed, slouching as her gaze fell to the sling where their son slept. Slowly, she nodded. "If you order me to retreat, I'll go."

"Thank you," he told her, cupping her cheek with one hand briefly before he faced Ashani. "I may need some assistance with this," he said, indicating the sling.

Ashani stepped forward and reached for the straps securing the sling over Solas' shoulders and began loosening them with care. Ellana moved in as well, her brow furrowed and her eyes too moist. The sight made something in Solas' chest tighten with sorrow. Parting from Sylvun seemed to be physically painful for her.

After Ashani had transferred the sling to her own shoulders, Solas turned to Var. "Alert the other Elvhen and look for volunteers among the Dalish Firsts." As Var nodded and started to go, Solas grabbed his forearm, stopping him as a new thought sprang into his mind. "And tell Zevanni to bring the foci."

Var nodded again and strode from the room.

"The foci?" Ellana asked from his side, rubbing her left palm with the fingers of her right hand as if she could already feel the pain of the Anchor.

"Yes," Solas confirmed, shooting her a somber look. "A precaution, only. Ir abelas—I know it will prove uncomfortable for you, vhenan."

She shrugged, a dry smile spreading over her lips. "I can handle a little pain knowing that it won't kill me anymore. Thank you, Mythal." She raised her left hand palm up and flexed it.

Solas felt heat spread over his cheeks though he tried to fight it off; shamed at the reminder that Mythal had been able to save Ellana from his magic. He would have taken her whole arm to spare her, unable to stabilize the Anchor. "Yes, I suppose I do owe the witch my thanks," he admitted.

"Well, she did try to put me under a compulsion," Ellana chuckled. "So don't thank her too heartily, emma lath."

The reminder of Morrigan and Mythal's duplicity made him scowl with anger, but he dismissed the emotion, letting it go to refocus on the present. "We must hurry and dress for battle."

"So much for that bath," Ashani quipped, grinning tightly as she cuddled Sylvun in the sling close to herself.

"When we return," Solas promised her.

The afternoon sun was heavy on Solas, seeming to press on him from all sides. Wearing the black wolf pelt headdress and his Elvhen armor, Solas walked over the newly grown spring grasses, still small and fragile but fresh and thick with moisture. Later in the season they'd dry out and grow much taller, but for now they were soft and lush, muffling the group's footsteps as they walked over the rolling hills between the palace and Halamshiral.

To the north Solas could already see signs of the approaching army—a glimmer of metal reflecting in the sun that'd been warped by the extreme distance until it looked like a water mirage. There was also a haze lingering in that direction, most likely caused by dust stirred up by the passage of thousands of human feet.

He saw Mahanon and Shila and the other handful of Dalish Firsts who'd agreed to join him all gawking as they saw the first hints of the army and tensed with fear. Doubtless they couldn't help but wonder if Solas had lost his mind bringing only a handful of elves to counter so many. Ellana also appeared anxious, wringing her hands together as she assessed the northern horizon and the approaching army. Unlike the Firsts Ellana had seen war on scales such as this before and she'd heard what Solas was capable of.

Most of the Firsts with him, in fact, had seen him shape the earth in the Emerald Graves—but it was for small skirmishes when they took human villages, or it was to erect stone walls to create shelter. Never before had Solas had occasion to display more than that. The thought of doing it now made him tight with apprehension for a variety of reasons. Primarily because displaying his talents in a scenario such as this would only reinforce the People's stubborn deification of him.

At the crest of a hill about halfway between the palace and Halamshiral, Solas stopped the group. "This will do," he told them. Surveying the others, he took in the nervous Firsts, Ellana, and then the Elvhen scattered amongst them. Unlike the modern elves, Lyris, Mathrel, Zevanni, and Var wore bland expressions, content to wait and unbothered by the approaching army of thousands of humans bent on their deaths. He checked on Zevanni, who purposefully lingered further from him to avoid paining Ellana with the foci she carried. Even so, despite that consideration, Solas could see the Anchor glowing green in Ellana's palm. But if she was in pain she gave no sign of it.

Motioning behind them toward the palace, Solas said, "Stand back. I must create a watchtower."

"What?" Mahanon asked, blinking.

Ignoring the question, Solas ushered them backward again with a gesture and this time they obeyed, shuffling through the soft grasses. Facing north, Solas squinted at the horizon a second, judging the distance and the height he'd need to cast over the area surrounding both the palace and the city. Then, making his decision, he focused on the hilltop ahead of him and reached out with one hand in a slow grabbing motion. Fade ether rose in wisps, twining round the grasses as they swayed in the slight breeze. Solas felt them connect with his mana core, like incorporeal hands squeezing somewhere inside.

Clenching his fist, Solas gradually raised his arm as his mind willed the ether to solidify and take shape. He imagined a spire of green rock, rising into the sky, and felt the ground at his feet quake as the green rock pushed its way from the earth. The Firsts behind him made sounds of alarm, pelting the air with their questions. Solas maintained his focus, funneling more ether into the structure, willing it higher. The rock spiraled as it climbed, a stairway curling up its sheer sides. Rocks crunched and clattered, the earth groaning as it bent to his will.

In only a few heartbeats it was complete and Solas released his grip on the Fade ether. Unclenching his hand, he let it fall to his side, breathing out a long breath with the effort of conjuring the raw Fade stone from ether. The tower was made of the same crystalline green rock as the stone he hurled as a rift mage. Nearer the top the Fade stone was brighter, catching the afternoon sunshine and reflecting it like a beacon, while the base was darker until it was almost black rock like that of the Crossroads. Solas had deliberately envisioned it that way, making the top's brightness obscure the shape or presence of anyone atop it so an archer or enemy mage would have difficulty aiming.

Crafted from raw Fade ether, it wasn't the pale stone or gleaming crystal works of Arlathan—and would've made the uppermost class of architects in Elvhenan weep with shame at its unfinished blandness—but it would do for Solas' purposes. He could always make it look better later, but for now he didn't have time for such frivolities.

"Mythal have mercy," Shila gasped behind him and he heard similar oaths whispered among the other Dalish—including Ellana.

Pivoting on one foot, he glanced back at her, posture stiff with worry at what he'd find on her face. Would this act, relatively small in the scale of what he could do, astound her so much that she'd never be able to see him as merely Solas again? Her eyes were round and her mouth ajar as her gaze panned up and down the tower. But after a moment she seemed to shake off her awe and shock, locking her attention on him with something akin to curiosity, as if she couldn't imagine what he'd do next.

Motioning to the winding stairs around the tower he'd just created, Solas said, "If you would follow me, please."

Without waiting to see if they'd obey, Solas walked to the stairwell and began ascending it. Behind him he heard the rustle and whisper of the others following after him. Fade ether clung to the steps and the tower, like sap oozing from a freshly cut tree limb. Yet, unlike tree sap, Fade ether was slippery.

"Watch your step," he cautioned, twisting to gaze over his shoulder at the others. Ellana was directly behind him, one hand on the stone of the tower while her eyes were downcast, watching her feet. Mahanon and Shila were behind her with similar postures. Satisfied with their care, Solas resumed the climb.

At the top of the tower the structure had only a small roof, supported by four narrow rock columns. The view was unobstructed as he'd intended, allowing a clear view of the city and the palace from this elevated vantage point. The lookout spot was large enough that their group could cluster together, but only if they stood almost close enough to touch. A small half-wall made of Fade stone encircled the edges of the tower top to prevent anyone stumbling over the edge.

Striding to the half-wall edge, Solas leaned against it, ignoring the sliminess of the Fade ether that coated his palms when he rested his hands on it. Ellana joined him, though she didn't touch the barrier. "What do we do now?" she asked.

Still staring at the northern horizon where the smudge of the army was gradually increasing in size, Solas frowned. "Now we wait and observe the playing field."

"Why not conjure the ice walls now?" she asked.

"Doing so will obscure our view," Solas replied, jerking his chin to indicate the north. "I wish to assess their numbers and tactics as best I can before taking action." Pivoting to face the others clumped around the edges of the tower, Solas said, "Lyris will take the western lookout. Mathrel will watch south. Zevanni…" He found her standing at the entrance to the stairwell, as far as she could get away from Ellana in their relatively confined spot. Glancing quickly to Ellana, he saw the green glow in her hand had increased and she held it clenched into a fist at her side, but otherwise showed no sign of pain.

"Zevanni," he said again and noticed the way her brow arched with amusement. "Take Shila and Abelas and the other Firsts back down the stairs and begin the wards and runes for an aegis barrier."

She grinned at him, her dark eyes flicking to Ellana knowingly. "Fen'Harel enansal," she said and then motioned at Abelas and Shila and the handful of other Dalish firsts who'd accompanied them as volunteers. "You lot come with me. This will take a while."

Mahanon had started to leave with the other Firsts but Solas quickly stopped him. "Stay here, falon. You and Var will watch the eastern horizon."

Ellana's brother halted mid-step with a look of surprise that leapt between Ellana and Solas. Settling on Solas, he ducked his head in a respectful nod. "Fen'Harel enansal." He moved to join Var off to Solas' right, facing east.

"And what am I to do?" Ellana asked, fidgeting with her sleeves.

"The more pairs of eyes we have searching, the more likely we are to see a danger sooner," Solas answered solemnly before smiling slightly with dry humor as he decided to tease her. "And, of course, rogues are the finest messengers and couriers."

She scowled. "If you make me run somewhere I'm going to have to stick you with my arrows…after I fry you with lightning."

Solas laughed, aware from the red blush on her face that it wasn't just the thought of being sent away from the battle that'd so irritated her. While she was no longer pregnant and had slimmed down almost to her pre-baby shape, motherhood had complicated things for Ellana in ways Solas had never expected—and couldn't help but find humorous. One such thing was the surprising messiness of lactation. Running somewhere would be both uncomfortable and embarrassing for her as, with the supply of milk increasing, she had a tendency to…leak. They'd discovered that over the last few nights when she'd woken in alarm believing herself covered with sweat only to realize it was milk.

"I shall bear that in mind," he said after catching his breath.

Ellana brushed a few fingers along the rock that formed a railing along the edge of the tower and grimaced as she found them slimy to the touch. Rubbing her fingers together, she asked him, "Did conjuring all this even put a dent in your reserves?"

Solas tensed before he could stop himself, turning his head away to watch the northern horizon again with narrowed eyes. He hated divulging details that could reveal the extent of his abilities, reminding Ellana and anyone else within earshot that he was different and other, to the point that he'd been deified and vilified once already. Would it happen again after his actions today?

Choosing to answer evasively, he said, "I do have limitations, vhenan."

She smirked at him. "And what would those be?"

In Elvhenan Solas had undergone similar scrutiny from Mythal when she'd suspected he wasn't just a very powerful Dreamer who'd escaped the upper class but was in fact an Evanuris. Hiding the true power he possessed had already been second nature to him then—and easier, because in truth he hadn't known what he could do—but he'd still revealed enough that she saw the truth. Now he had other reasons for trying to cover up what he could do and yet couldn't exactly deny his own strength or avoid using it if the People were at stake.

Sighing, Solas shot her a small, tight smile. "Let us hope you never find out."

She snorted, shaking her head. "I suppose you're right."

They fell into silence for a time and Solas admired the springtime sky, bright with the crystalline light of the Fade coloring it with hues of vibrant yellow, green, and pink. In the brilliance of the daylight sunshine the stalagmite-like rocks hovering in the sky here and there were green-gray rather than blackish. The Black City was to the northwest now, whereas a few days ago it'd been due south.

"It's so clear out here," Ellana murmured, motioning at the Black City. "Away from the canopy, I mean." In the Emerald Graves they'd rarely gotten an unobstructed view of the sky. "Why does it move?" she asked.

Solas shot her a sideways look as he considered his answer. As per his usual, he'd revealed little of his full knowledge, even to Ellana. It was likely time to change that. Weighing his words for a moment, he squared his shoulders and tucked his hands behind his back as he spoke. "An illusory enchantment," he explained. "It takes advantage of the Fade's malleability and alters our perception of it."

The keen intelligence in her green eyes made him want to smile as he saw understanding dawn—though he didn't due to the forbidding nature of their current topic. "So…could someone dispel the effect and see where it truly is?" the note of fear in her voice made it sharp.

Nodding, Solas said, "Yes." Staring at the ugly black spires of the city, Solas frowned. He'd worried about the inevitability of curious mages trying to reach the Black City before and knew eventually someone would try and likely succeed. Such an event would prove disastrous and Solas didn't have any idea how to combat that danger. He'd originally hoped to kill the Evanuris sleeping there in his initial plan to destroy the Veil, because the two were intrinsically tied. Destroying the Veil would waken the Evanuris and killing the Evanuris would inevitably cause the Veil to fail.

"Someone could reach it," Ellana said, carrying her thought to its logical conclusion. "And it wouldn't even be all that hard. Enough Dreamers working together could make a tower like this one and—"

"Yes," Solas said, locking his gaze with hers.

"But we cannot allow that to happen," she said, eyes wide and fraught with alarm. Solas noticed Mahanon had also turned to gawk at them, his mouth open and his hazel eyes wide.

"You have a plan, right?" Mahanon asked and chuckled anxiously. "Tell me you have a plan to deal with that…"

"The last thing we need is a Blight," Ellana agreed, nodding at her brother with a grim expression.

Blight was actually not Solas' primary fear. With the Forgotten Ones now dead the Blight and the Darkspawn under its tainted power would be little more dangerous than any other natural illness—at least until someone else with enough power and knowledge learned to control it. The Blight's terrible power had always been that it was magic as much as disease, and magic meant it was under someone or something's control.

He saw Lyris watching him, her head cocked slightly and her eyes questioning. The others as well—Var and Mathrel—would be following his lead and listening to him carefully. Like him they knew far more than Ellana and Mahanon, but they didn't know what they should or should not reveal.

Solas realized with a sigh that he wasn't certain either. Was it wise to reveal to the modern elves—and eventually the humans and other races—that the magic and power sustaining the Veil stemmed from seven trapped elves so powerful that they'd been believed gods? Creators? How long before some intrepid fool decided to find out the truth firsthand, Blight or not? How long before a demon possessed some wayward elven mage beyond the sanctuary of the Dales and drove its victim to breach the Black City to destroy the Veil?

Feeling both Mahanon and Ellana's stares, Solas forced himself to answer. "I had a plan, yes. But that plan would no longer work."

Mahanon groaned. "Fenedhis. Really?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Solas admitted with a touch of irritation making him terse. Shooting Ellana a meaningful look, he added, "I have been unavoidably detained and distracted for some time."

"You disappoint me, Fen'Harel," Lyris teased with a smirk. "I'd have thought you'd have a plan for dealing with this by now."

Solas huffed his irritation at her, frowning, but he couldn't think of anything to say in reprimand as Ellana chuckled at his expense. He felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment and shot her a quick glare. Then, catching a glint from the corner of his eye, Solas turned fully toward the horizon and saw the shape of the approaching Orlesian army had changed. Grunting, he said, "They have divided their forces, as I suspected. The bulk will likely head to Halamshiral to secure the city, but two additional smaller groups will move to surround the palace: one from the north and the other from the south, I expect."

Ellana nodded, squinting out at the horizon. "I think you're right."

"What do we do?" Mahanon asked, his voice and expression tight with worry.

"You will continue to keep watch," Solas instructed calmly as he rolled his shoulders and drew in a deep breath, reaching inward to caress his mana core, feeling over it as he considered his next action. "I will do what must be done."

"And that is…what, exactly?" Mahanon asked, still anxious.

Solas ignored him and walked quickly to his left to the western vantage point, watched currently by Lyris who stepped aside for him at once. Overlooking Halamshiral a few miles out, Solas breathed in and out in a slow, even pattern as he extended one hand open palmed—as if reaching to grab something. They'd restored the Fade around the city in a perimeter of about a mile deliberately, under Solas' guidance. Now he enacted that plan, feeling the ether all around him and distantly rising up and responding to his will. It clicked inside him, connecting to his mana just as it had when he'd conjured up the tower.

Envisioning a solid, thick wall of ice, Solas closed his eyes and clenched his hand into a fist as he let out a long, slow exhale. The Fade ether rose from the earth and appeared from thin air, thickening into a sudden green fog as it began to take shape. As it solidified the magic drew on his magic, sucking at it hungrily, as ravenous as tiny Sylvun when he nursed. The draw was more than anything Solas had expended since waking and he felt his body flush suddenly cold, though paradoxically he also began to sweat. His heartbeat sped up into a staccato beat, skipping and stuttering, and then it began to slow. It was like diving into chilled water, sinking deeper into the depths as the magic drew more and more in a steady but sustainable stream. If he were to reach his limits the reaction would change to one of panic, heat, and weakness.

There'd only been twice in Solas' long life—pre-Veil, anyway—that he'd felt the panicky, weak flush of overextending himself. The first had been when he'd been tied to a magic-absorbing metal "tree" by Andruil. The "tree" normally wouldn't have been enough to empty his mana reserves, but Andruil had also used warded ropes that strangled his mana regeneration. The second time, however, had been far worse: when the Veil went up and his own machinations and plans had nearly trapped him alongside the other Evanuris. The Anchor had been what saved him then, but he'd fallen from the Fade too weak to waken for millennia.

Now he'd see how much he had truly recovered after all.

The spell released its grip on him and Solas drew in a deep breath, opening his eyes and letting his hand fall to his side again. Surveying his work, Solas smiled with satisfaction as he saw the blue-white glacial ice wall curling in a half circle around Halamshiral. It rose taller and thicker than the city's protective walls, steaming in the afternoon sunshine and gleaming with moisture. He sensed Mahanon and Ellana's shock and awe but didn't turn to see their faces, unwilling to see their reactions.

"Fenedhis," Mahanon cursed in a breathy whisper.

Feeling his core settle, rapidly recharging, Solas focused away from the city for now, pivoting to face a more northwesterly position. Ellana was at his side before he could begin, laying a hand on his bicep and staring up at him with a concerned look. "Are you all right, emma lath?" She reached up with her other hand and brushed her knuckles tenderly at his temple. Solas felt her fingers smear the moisture of his sweat over his skin. "Do you need a rest?" she asked.

He smiled at her but shook his head. "No, only a few heartbeats to ready the next cast."

She nodded, though consternation clouded her features and made her jaw partly fall slack. She stepped back from him, letting Solas focus on the northern horizon and the land stretching between Halamshiral and the winter palace. Again he stretched out a hand, open palm to the horizon, and reached for the Fade ether. It'd take several walls to barricade them from the approaching army and only Solas had the reserves to perform such a massive feat without utterly draining himself.

Bracing for the next draw, Solas took a deep breath and felt the Fade latch onto him as before. Closing his eyes, he let the magic flow.

Ellana watched in quiet awe over the next half-hour as Solas erected a wall of ice that stretched for miles around the palace and Halamshiral, encircling the land in between as well. After each casting Ellana held her breath, seeing the sweat on Solas' brow and expecting him to collapse from exertion. How could one man conjure so much—literally tons and tons of ice—from thin air without growing exhausted?

She could feel the magic he spun whipping over their group like winds from a violent storm, whipping her skin with prickling sensations of hot and cold. Her own mana reserves seemed to churn with excess energy, as if stirred by Solas' magic. Could he draw on her or the others if he needed? Of course she knew her mana would be like a thimble of water beside the Waking Sea and would do little to help Solas if he did run low. She still had precious little experience and training with her own magic.

Finally Solas completed the circle and relaxed again, letting the invisible currents and eddies of magic in the air settle so that they were little more than a caress now against Ellana's skin. It was the usual blissful song of the restored Fade, thrumming in her blood.

"Fenedhis lasa," Mahanon swore breathily. "I cannot believe what I've just witnessed." He turned in a slow circle, eyes wide as he stared out at the blue-white ice that now encircled the plains, the city, and the palace in an enormous oval. The walls glistened in the sunshine, slick and moist and absolutely incongruous in this springtime landscape filled with green grass and new life.

The Elvhen in the tower seemed nonchalant, jaded to the unbelievable amount of power Solas had displayed. Ellana wondered what other breathtaking things would be mundane to them. What had they seen in Elvhenan?

Solas wiped at his forehead with his sleeve, making a humming sound in the back of his throat that was neither satisfaction nor frustration. "I cannot say how long the ice will last in the sun—or against Orlesian mages."

"Will you be able to repair it if it melts quickly?" Ellana asked, her voice tight. She resisted the desire to wring her hands with the nervousness coiling inside her stomach. As much as she wanted to maintain her ideal of passive resistance with the Orlesian army, she wasn't about to let them break through and harm anyone in the palace or the city. Her mind kept jumping to Rinaya, her mother, and Sylvun with a twitchy insistence.

Solas shot her a compassionate look and she suspected he understood her dilemma. "I very much doubt the army will be able to melt the ice faster than I can reform it." He frowned. "However, they may prove more resourceful than any of us anticipated and could scale the walls."

Ellana nodded, chewing her lip. "They arrived expecting to lay siege to Halamshiral." The city had walls of its own, as many larger settlements did. That meant the Orlesians would've come prepared to breach those walls.

"The city elves can fight off a few stray soldiers breaching the walls with ladders," Mahanon said, though he scowled as if he didn't like the idea. His hazel eyes drifted to Solas and then Ellana, darting between them. "But it would be better if we could stop them before the People have to fight one on one."

"I think what you're trying to say is it would be better if Fen'Harel stopped them before that," Var said, smirking as he clapped Mahanon playfully on the shoulder.

Mahanon's lips twitched in an almost sheepish expression, as if Var had caught him doing something embarrassing rather than covertly suggesting a tactic change. "Well," he mumbled, shrugging as he looked at Solas and then Ellana again. "That's another way of putting it."

Mathrel flashed a hard grin from his side of the watchtower. "It's time you showed the shemlen what it means to be an enemy of the People, Fen'Harel."

A muscle fluttered in Solas' temple and he turned his head to meet Ellana's stare with a furrowed brow. "What do you wish, vhenan?"

Drawing in a deep breath, Ellana tried not to feel the tense, excited moods of the others—even her own brother—silently calling for human blood. "We send ravens to Orlais and to the army asking for peace and warning them that they'll pay a heavy price if they refuse and attack us."

"They won't listen," Mathrel growled. "The Empress spent the last peace talks trying to have you killed."

"I know," Ellana rejoined, scowling at him. "I still want to try. This is the first time they've seen Solas' power." She smiled at him, aware of his tensing. "I'd like to give them a chance to renege on their warpath. It could save thousands of lives."

"Shemlen lives," Mathrel grumbled sourly.

"Enough," Solas snapped, slashing a hand in the warrior's direction impatiently. "I will default to Ellana's wisdom in this matter." Pivoting to face Var, he said, "Go to the city and send two ravens: one to the army outside the walls and the other to Val Royeaux for the Empress. Warn them both that breaching our walls would be a grave mistake and I will kill every last one of them should they be foolish enough to try my patience."

Var nodded and bolted for the stairs, Fade-stepping in a blur.

Solas looked at Ellana and heaved a sigh. She reached out to him, squeezing his forearm and smiling, though she knew it'd appear wan. "I fear they will not settle until they have forced my hand," he said.

"I fear the same," Lyris said. "And then they will only settle for peace because they know they cannot defeat you conventionally."

Solas nodded in her direction, his expression grim. "No enemy is without weakness," he agreed, frowning. "And once they know mine is not on the battlefield, they will search elsewhere." His blue eyes slid to Ellana, heavy and dark with gloom.

Licking her lips, Ellana said, "I should send a raven to Cassandra. We've heard nothing from her. She may be amenable to peace through diplomacy—especially if I'm the one who suggests it. She could pressure the Empress into letting the Dales go as well. I'm sure Briala will agree."

The gloom lifted from Solas' expression as he smiled at her. "An excellent idea, vhenan," he said. "One we shall implement as soon as we can return to the palace."

The afternoon passed with their group watching from the tower as the Orlesian army approached the ice walls. The sounds of their horses whinnying and the haze from the dust kicked up by thousands of feet filled the air. Ellana found herself wishing she could see their consternation as they faced the ice walls. They couldn't feel the Fade the same way the People could, but the green mist rising from the earth and the frequent wisps that darted about the ice walls had to draw their attention—and hopefully their fear.

Ellana left the watchtower closer to dusk, determined to spend some time with Sylvun despite the war that'd arrived almost literally on their doorstep. Solas remained in the field with most of his Elvhen generals and Dalish Firsts, but he sent Lyris as an escort back to the palace. After relieving her mother and Rinaya from babysitting, Ellana nursed and cuddled Sylvun herself as she drafted a letter for Cassandra to be sent at dawn via raven.

Rinaya had retreated through an eluvian to return to the Emerald Graves where Deya waited in the care of her maternal grandparents and other clan members, but both Ellana's mother and Lyris remained with her. When her mother brought a tray of tea spiced with calming herbs to help her rest Ellana sipped without giving it a second thought—only to grimace and quickly set the cup back down.

"What did you put in that, mamae?" she asked quietly, cuddling Sylvun close in his sling. The tiny baby was asleep, oblivious to the world as long as they didn't startle him awake with movement or sound.

Her mother smiled as she fingered the tray she'd placed on the nightstand at Ellana's bedside. "Fenugreek."

Ellana huffed with irritation. "Really, mamae? I have enough milk." Her breasts had ached, heavy and swollen, whenever she missed a feeding over the last few days. Inevitably she missed feedings regularly because she was needed elsewhere constantly. Rinaya had been feeding Sylvun to keep him satisfied while Ellana was away. However, with each passing day since the birth, skipping feedings had become more painful. She'd found herself fidgety with anxiousness and mounting discomfort earlier that day, counting down to the moment when she could find relief in feeding Sylvun. The last thing she needed was to increase that supply.

"This herb you mentioned increases milk production?" Lyris asked, both eyebrows raised.

Ellana's mother nodded. "It often does, yes. I always have some on hand for new mothers." She faced her daughter, hands on her hips. "If Rinaya continues feeding Deya and Sylvun your milk will start to dry up. You'll never have enough for him if you're not feeding him more often." With a gesture at Ellana where she lied in bed, propped up by pillows, her mother added, "Besides, I know the women in my family are never the producers that some other women are."

"Meaning Rinaya," Ellana supplied with a chuckle.

"There were spells used in my time," Lyris put in. "I take it these have been forgotten by your clan?"

"Do you know the spells?" Ellana's mother asked, immediately locking onto Lyris with the intensity of a hawk focusing on her prey.

Lyris shook her head with a look of regret. "No, ir abelas. I—" She broke off as all three women heard and sensed the crackle of magic just outside the room. Lyris bolted upright, drawing the hilt of her spectral blade and lighting it up with a buzzing noise. The whitish light of the magic, which drew directly on the Fade, was brighter than Ellana had ever seen it.

"Fade leaping," the arcane warrior said, apparently recognizing the spell the person in the corridor outside their room had used. Her blue eyes flicked toward Ellana. "Elvhen magic, a spell lost to shem elves. It could be one of Mythal's sentinels."

Could it be Solas or an ally? Or was it indeed possible Mythal had chosen this moment to return? Heart pounding and muscles tensing, Ellana shifted on the bed, ready to get up and defend herself even as her mother edged into a position to shield her. Lyris called out, "Who's there?"

"Atisha, emma lath," Mathrel's familiar voice answered. Peace, my love.

The three women all breathed a collective sigh of relief as Mathrel's armored form thumped into the room. His armor glimmering in the dim orange light cast not by candles but by a magical illumination that Lyris had provided and his expression appeared pinched and unhappy—more than usual.

"What news?" Ellana asked, instinctually holding Sylvun closer.

"Fen'Harel sent me to keep you abreast of the situation," Mathrel told her, voice gruff. "The Orlesians have begun employing their siege weapons against the ice wall. It is holding up well against the onslaught, but Fen'Harel froze the apparatuses to cease their firing."

Ellana nodded, trying—and failing, she suspected—to hide how impressive the feat was even hearing it secondhand. Solas would've had to freeze the trebuchets from miles away in the watchtower. "Will that stop the siege weapons entirely or will they be able to fire again when the mechanisms thaw?"

"Some will be broken for good," Mathrel told her with a tight smile. "But others will return to working order." He shifted his weight from one foot to another, making his armor clink where it was heaviest around his thighs. "Such weapons did not exist in Elvhenan, so it is difficult to predict with certainty." With a dip of his head he added, "But there is a more pressing matter and Fen'Harel seeks your guidance and consent."

Ellana ignored her mother's sidelong look of surprise and said, "I'm listening." Whatever it was it must be important and volatile enough in nature that Solas couldn't risk leaving the battleground. She felt her heart lurch into her throat, anticipating bad news.

Brown eyes narrowing somberly, Mathrel said, "The shemlen have begun scaling the ice walls around Halamshiral in significant numbers. The Dalish and the city elves have both held them at bay. Zevanni leads them. But the assault on the city troubles Fen'Harel because it is too visible. The shemlen soldiers carry torches that make them easy targets as they climb the siege ladders."

"Perhaps they are more concerned with lighting their way?" Ellana's mother asked, arching an eyebrow. "Shemlen have never been altogether stealthy people."

"That's not it, mamae," Ellana said with a sharp shake of he rhead. "Why attack at night in the first place? And why Halamshiral? They know the city has stone walls beyond the ice Solas has cast. They are like fish dashing themselves against the rocks when they could simply swim around."

"A diversion," Lyris concluded with a knowing nod. "They hope to focus attention to Halamshiral while they infiltrate the palace."

"It's not fortified the way Halamshiral is," Ellana agreed. "And they know the eluvians are here in the palace, not in the city." She stroked over the soft halla leather, feeling Sylvun's warmth through it and distantly hearing the tiny little whistle of his breathing.

Mathrel nodded. "This is Fen'Harel's suspicion as well and it is why I Fade leapt to reach you as fast as I could." Ellana had gathered that outright teleportation was something only extremely powerful mages—possibly only Evanuris—could manage. Fade leaping must be an intermediate version of that trick, allowing middle-class mages of average talent, like Mathrel, to go further than mere Fade stepping allowed.

"What does Solas want to do?" she 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."

She winced. "I had hoped to avoid that."

"The shemlen are beyond saving," Mathrel growled. "Do not hobble Fen'Harel with your sympathies to them or you will doom the People when we are so close to—"

"Fenedhis," Ellana interrupted him with a snarl. "I will not doom the People by trying to save human lives. There's enough room in Thedas for all of us." She pinched the bridge of her nose, heaving a long sigh of irritation before she said, "Tell Solas there must be a middle ground between razing the whole army and stopping the attack. We must think up some strategy to—"

"There is no time," Mathrel shouted. "They are likely scaling the walls around the palace as we speak. Fen'Harel can end them. Now. Tonight."

Sylvun had begun to squirm, whimpering as Mathrel's shouting had awakened him. Ellana patted and rocked him as she glared at Mathrel. "Freeze the army with a blizzard. Freeze the entire battlefield, inside the ice walls and beyond if he can manage it. Our people can use runes to stay warm while the Orlesians will freeze. If they do not retreat they will die and the cold and wind will thwart their attempts to scale the walls, both here and in Halamshiral."

Mathrel stared at her a moment, his expression tight and unreadable. Then, gradually, a smile curled over his lips. "Ma nuvenin. I will relay your strategy to hahren." With a quick glance at Lyris he spun on his heel and strode from the room. A heartbeat later Ellana felt the tingle of magic and heard the popping noise of the spell he'd cast—Fade leaping again, doubtless.

"I will lay out wards," Lyris said. "We must expect attack as well as cold tonight."

Ellana glanced toward the window, seeing only the darkness of the nighttime beyond. She cuddled Sylvun, who'd already begun to drift back to sleep with the disturbance now gone. "I wish I could see it," she murmured with a small sigh. As much as she knew she'd never regret or wish away her unexpected but beautiful little son, Ellana hated the twisting inside her—the conflicting needs and roles. Motherhood was still so new and daunting and demanding. She wanted nothing more than to focus on raising and bonding with Sylvun, but Thedas and the People were also riding on her shoulders.

Lyris chuckled, a dark note tainting the sound and drawing Ellana's curious stare. "You'll see it, Lana," she said. "Fen'Harel is an Evanuris. Such power is anything but subtle."

As if on cue a rumbling sound rose up, rattling the windows of the palace. Wind whistled, groaning as it raced by, tearing open the shutters. Ellana's mother scrambled to secure them with a yelp. Outside Ellana saw white snowflakes tearing by suddenly and as she gasped she realized her breath had grown foggy with the abrupt, fierce chill that'd descended. Shivering, she huddled Sylvun closer to her. What did I unleash?

Next Chapter:

"Vhenan," Solas greeted her at once, his blue eyes skipping over her form, doubtless in search of the sling she often wore if she was carrying Sylvun out with her. "What of Sylvun?" he asked her a heartbeat later, brow furrowing.

"I left him with mamae," she said, then, seeing his expression warp with worry, she added, "And Rinaya. And Shila. And Deshanna. And Var. And Taehon. And Negan. And—"

Zevanni snorted, interrupting her with a laugh. "You can relax, hahren. Lavellan is just as paranoid about the elfling's safety as you are." She looked to Ellana with a smirk. "What is that? Half of your clan to guard him?"