Avalanche

"Beg that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of the Gods, and it was empty," the creature declared.

Ennaly couldn't believe what was happening. The pain in her left shoulder was immense as she was being held off the ground by this taller-than-life figure, this Elder One, Corypheus, a Darkspawn. From his words, he was one of the First, one of the Tevinter Magisters that corrupted the Golden City with their hubris, trying to ascend to godhood. That meant that this creature was also responsible for the fall of the Elvhenan, and the dwindling of her People.

At the start of this fight, she had seen Dorian's snowy halla statue broken at the feet. The body lay on its side, the tall horns broken, rolled aside, and hidden in the snow. Blood scattered its flank, melting the ice away. The contrast of red on white was hauntingly beautiful, but it had given Ennaly shivers down her spine.

It seemed oddly symbolic to her, but at the time she hadn't wanted to think about what it could represent. But now, when faced with this monster, the image of the broken halla resurfaced and she could only think that in a little time, before the night was over, she would join it, another lone effigy of the Dalish, shattered and bloodied.

The templars come to kill you, the strange young man in the big hat had said to her.

Did they know to attack now, right after the Breach was sealed? The endeavours had left them drained, their power weakened, and otherwise intoxicated and exhausted. The mark on Ennaly's hand had ached with blinding pain and it was the very thing this monster wanted. He called it the Anchor, and it was supposedly meant to assail the very heavens to attempt again where he once failed.

He'd gotten a strange green orb and tried to draw the power from her hand. The orb crackled with red energy, corrupting and pulling at her energy. The power was so unfamiliar to anything she'd known before, it seemed to strike at her very core. Was that what the blight was?

Irate, the create swung her forth and released her. Ennaly's vision turned bright white as her body collided with the trebuchet, knocking the breath from her lungs.

"The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling," she heard the creature speak. She opened her eyes to see his grotesque face, his eyes burning with nothing but contempt and hatred for her. Behind him, the black wings of his dragon spread.

Was that her end? The row of jagged teeth and corrupted breath?

The ground shuddered with each step it took, closer to her. Snow fell off the trebuchet next to her, loosened by the vibrations in the ground.

Trebuchet.

Wasn't that their goal when they exited the Chantry one last time? A distraction, to be seen, so the others could escape through the secret tunnels. And during the distraction, they would reach the trebuchet, cause one last avalanche, and bury Haven and the enemies in a layer of snow.

The glimmer of a nearby sword caught her eye, and she reached out to grab it. Her magic had left her, and there were no potions left to replenish it, but this crude piece of steel was something she could place between herself and her enemy.

"So be it," Corypheus continued. "I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation – and God – it requires."

In the distance, a red flare soared between the mountain passes, illuminating the white flanks.

Hope.

A sense of peace embraced Ennaly. The signal indicated that the others had reached the area above the tree line, safe from any avalanche. But what about her companions? They had been with her before the dragon attacked. Were they safe?

But she had no time to ponder any losses. If they weren't safe, and she failed to act, they would all meet the same fate as bodies they had passed on her way to this place.

We're dying, but we can decide how. Many don't get that choice, Cullen had said. On her terms, it'd be.

With newfound determination, she took a step forward. "You expect us to surrender and kneel," she said, fire in her words. In her heart burned an unquenchable flame of revenge for the people who had died here in the attack. "But we shall not. You will face opposition wherever you go. Even if I die, there will be many others to fight you. You will never succeed!"

Blinded by anger, the creature failed to see the plan behind her words. With all the strength left in her body, she jumped to the side and threw all her weight against the launching mechanism of the trebuchet.

Chaos ensued as the rock was ejected into the trees with a shaking force. A distant tremor hung in the air and Ennaly held her breath, hoping it would be enough. The longest second passed before snow started to roar downwards, destruction veiled in white.

The three of them, the monster, the dragon, and Ennaly, stood to witness the end of Haven, and if they didn't move, they would be buried with it. In the few seconds she had left to act, she witnessed the dragon's wings engulfing Corypheus' body, before it flew away.

But she couldn't fly, and it was the last thing she saw as the snow heralded her end, collapsing the trebuchet under its white surface. Snow. Once, she had only thought of it as beautiful, serene, and silent, not cold, destructive, and roaring. A single chance was all she had before she would be overtaken, and jumped aside. Wooden planks broke under the impact, and she plummeted down into darkness.

Barely clinging to life, she was aware of a hard, wet surface below her back. A mineshaft? But her body felt broken and she had no strength left in her body to stand up. She closed her eyes, but it made no difference, because there was nothing to see but darkness.

She got to choose how she would die. Many others did not get that choice. With luck, she would die so the others could escape. In death, she would be nothing more than a Dalish effigy after all, a broken symbol of hope. Here, on the cold wet stone, she could only envy the icy halla for being surrounded by likewise creations of frozen water.

She had to die all alone.

The void where Ennaly's conscience rested, slowly took form. She was on her back, grass wet with dew against her cheek. Surrounding her, trees gained shape, tall trees, stretching out towards a star-encrusted sky.

It was peaceful here. She could close her eyes again, and then the pain would be gone.

Because there was pain, wasn't there? Far away, there was a different Ennaly, that wasn't surrounded by trees. It wasn't she, but that other Ennaly that was in pain. But it didn't matter, not here. She was under the trees and she could remain there, if she wanted.

No expectations. No pressure. No suffering.

She started to close her eyes, when the sound of breaking branches made them flare open again. In the direction of the sound, a wolf emerged between the trees, massive and stark white.

It should have frightened her, she thought, but Ennaly didn't give it any heed. She only wanted to rest and started to close her eyes once more, when the wolf approached her, its head lowered. It didn't seem to ready an attack, for its ears were turned towards her, curious but careful.

It was the intelligence in its eyes that entranced her.

But she was so tired, and she didn't have the strength to move when it nudged her shoulder. The touch sent sparks of pain through her body, but the pain wasn't hers. It was from the other Ennaly.

She didn't want to answer the wolf's call. She was exhausted, she just wanted to rest her eyes, enjoy this serene forest clearing. As she started to close her eyes again, the wolf nudged her more intensely. A grunt of pain escaped her, and the grunt seemed to transcend space, seemed to echo into other Ennaly.

The wolf howled. At its call. the surroundings started to liquefy and morph. Trees turned into cave walls, branches became stalactites, and it wasn't dewy grass that touched her cheek, but cold wet stone. The stars above fell down, slowly, dripping.

And with the next nudge, the conscience of Ennaly shifted around and she was other Ennaly.

With a shuddering breath that jolted the life back into her, she opened her eyes. Pain enveloped her body as she found herself on the hard ground of a cave. Water dripped from a stalactite to her left.

But she lived. After all that happened, she was alive, by the miracle of the Gods.

She sat upright, ignoring the bruised agony that burned through her. It was clear that she had broken some ribs. One thing was sure: if she remained here, she would surely die sooner or later. And in this cold, she'd imagined it'd be sooner.

Her staff lay a few feet away, the top broken. She stretched her hand to reach it and used it to get to her feet. Mercifully, her legs seemed alright. Or was it simply adrenaline, keeping her standing?

She took a step. That was all she needed to do. If she simply concentrated, one foot in front of the other, she could forget about the pain in her ribs, about the cold creeping up in her body. One step, another.

She stumbled upon demons. As in a dream, her hand reached upwards, channelling energy towards the small rift, and it imploded, pulling the demons inside. One step, another.

She exited the cave. Outside, the winds were howling. The blizzard was now in full roar. If she remained, she would die. One step, another.

More howling. Wind? Wolves? If she remained, she would die. One step, another.

Lights. Fire, in the distance, in the valley on the other side of the hill. One step, another.

Sounds. More wolves? One step, another.

But they weren't wolves. She could recognise voices, yet the speech was incomprehensible to her.

And finally, there were no more steps to take.

Instead, her head was nuzzled in fur.

Another wolf? No, that wasn't it.

Strong arms, carrying her. Warm breath touched her cheek. The scent of elderflower?

"Don't worry, I've got you." Consoling words, softly spoken, but she couldn't remember whom they belonged to.

Someone was carrying her and had wrapped her in fur. She opened her eyes for a moment, her vision blurred. A familiar head with blonde hair. Cullen?

A makeshift bed, a fire nearby.

"We saw her die, buried in the avalanche."

The worried tones of conversation.

"She must be sent by Andraste, how else can she still live?"

Wonder, admiration too.

Her clothing got stripped away, her wounds tended. The feeling of familiar, soothing magic setting her ribs. Warm furs to heat her body.

Then, the sweet and comforting oblivion of dreamless sleep.

"A word?"

Ennaly was still staring at the people in the camp who just proclaimed their faith in her, leaving her with a mixed feeling of dread and wonder. Herald of Andraste, she was to them. She wondered how that namesake ever dealt with people kneeling in front of her. Had Andraste ever been touched by divinity, or did people simply claim that for her?

Solas stood to the side of the crowd, having silently observed them. "Can you walk?" he asked now that he had her attention, his tone serious.

"I can manage," Ennaly responded. She felt bruised still, but restorative magic had strengthened her muscles. She followed Solas, him walking with the confidence and sway of a just-crowned king, her with all the awkwardness and angles of a newborn doe.

She followed him to somewhat outside of the camp, out of earshot of everybody. A little distance away rose a large iron torch bracket from the snow, and that seemed to be Solas' destination. Peeking out through the snow were large slabs of cracked stone, old and eroded. Looking around, they were truly surrounded by nothing but snowy mountains, pine trees their only companions for miles around. After the roaring blizzard, the snow had once again turned to a blanket of serene silence.

"Where are we?" Ennaly asked in wonder as she watched Solas lit the torch of Veilfire with a practised twist of his wrist. The surrounding snow shimmered green in the illumination, and it was as if they were standing on a field of diamonds. With Solas' confident posture, Ennaly could just imagine him crowned and robed in bejewelled fabrics, regal and proud. She shook the image away and in front of her was once again the unassuming apostate.

"An old and ancient highway, long forgotten," he replied. "Not much of it remains." He gave her one of his appraising looks. "The Humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting. Their faith is based on more than the mark on your hand, the Anchor. I read your report to Leliana about what happened in Haven's last moments, and we witnessed it from a distance. We were separated by the dragon and chased by Templars. For moments, we thought you were right in our midst, but then…"

He shook his head and stared ahead, lost in thought, before he turned back to Ennaly. "You faced the Elder One. It should not have been possible, but you did. And you survived. Surprise after surprise."

"I thought I'd die," she confessed, her voice low. "I was ready to."

"Yet you did not. You escaped, and with it, you gained the information that the Elder One bestowed upon you. You were not meant to survive. Yet now you know, and we can weaponize it against him."

"Do you know how?"

A small smirk on his lips. "I know what. The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carried? It is ours. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. We must find out how he survived… and we must prepare for their reaction, when they learn the orb is of our people."

"Of our people… Elven?" she asked, suddenly aghast as her mind raced to conclusions. "They're going to think I was behind this after all, tricking them into believing me. What… what is it, how do you know this?"

"Such things were foci, said to channel power from our Gods," Solas continued. "Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire."

Ennaly stared at him, feeling her world spinning. "So, you're saying I do bear the mark of a God?" She needed something to lean against, to steady herself, but there was nothing around. Solas stepped in and steadied her arm.

The mark on her hand – the Anchor – shimmered faintly. So, she did carry divine power? It wasn't Andraste at all, but one of her own. But how had it happened? An accident, or had it been some divine intervention? She didn't remember how the mark got branded in her palm. But weren't the Gods locked away?

"Who's?" Ennaly asked with resolution, gazing up at Solas' face. He looked concerned but apprehensive, and she remembered. "You… I thought you didn't believe in our Gods."

His brow furrowed as she steadied herself and Solas dropped his hand again. She wished it would stay. It gave her comfort. "I do not believe they were Gods, no, but I believe they existed," he said, his voice calm.

"Then, do you know which one?" she almost begged, looking into his face with large eyes.

"It... is hard to say," Solas replied, averting his gaze. His voice lost its soft touch.

"Please don't let it be Elgar'nan's," she breathed, feeling a sense of foreboding.

His gaze found hers again, curious now but puzzled. "You least hope this is Elgar'nan's?"

Now it was her time to avert her eyes. "You know, as a Dalish, you kind of start to associate the Gods to the people who carry their Vallaslin. It might be clear that I favour Mythal –" she touched her cheekbones "– but I also favour June and Sylaise, because of my dear mother and friends. The most unpleasant Elf I ever knew carried Elgar'nan's Vallaslin. So, by association…" A new thought entered her mind, and panicked, she looked up to Solas again. "What if it is his, and I'm just being blasphemous here?"

But Solas' expression was encouragingly calm. "This orb is not Elgar'nan's."

"How can you be certain?"

A small frown appeared on his face. "Well… It is just unlikely, is it not? One in nine. I think… I think you do not have to worry about it."

She smiled at him. His words might be uncertain, but there was something in his posture, some confidence that told her he wouldn't give her false comfort. It wasn't Elgar'nan's. Relieved, she shook away the thought of the Elf who wore his Vallaslin. Those weren't happy memories.

Then, with a frown of her own, she remembered something else. A large wolf in her dreams, and dread entered her mind. There was only one God currently not sealed away, said to still wander the earth in far-flung corners. And his animal, the wolf, that she had just seen? What if?

Solas hadn't seen her frown and continued. "However Corypheus came to it, the orb is Elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of Human faith."

"Are you the only one who knows this?" she asked him.

"I assume currently, yes. And you know now, too," he continued. "But Leliana is very resourceful, and even Dorian has a lot of knowledge. I consider it a matter of time before it is known."

"Leliana and Dorian are okay. But if others know... They'll find a way to blame us, Elven, for all of this, for Corypheus," Ennaly said in fearful realisation.

"Which is why we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies. Faith in you is shaping the moment, but it needs room to grow."

Posturing is necessary, Solas had said when they first chatted in Haven. Had he known, suspected, then?

"Luckily, I know just where it can do so," he said, a mischievous smile on his face. He raised himself again, looking in the distance. He revelled in this, didn't he? Giving her grim tidings, but withholding a revelation to the last moment, for maximum impact.

"You wicked man," Ennaly grinned, also standing again.

He looked back at her, enjoying her grin. "You asked me if I know where we are. I already told you this is an old, forgotten road. But I have not yet told you its destination. We need to scout to the north. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build… grow…"

They couldn't move fast. Every evening, they had to set up tents to protect them from the elements, and take them down every morning. Children and elderly slowed down their daily progress. This allowed Ennaly and Solas to scout ahead, ensuring their course was the correct one. After having almost died, Ennaly felt reborn. In the evenings, in the camp, she was the warm presence that gave hope to all. She played with the children, consoled the scared, and laughed with all.

Even if she desired privacy and practise her dancing and magic, Ennaly wouldn't break her promise to Leliana. But Maryden, the bard, had escaped Haven's demise and she played songs in the evenings to lift the spirits.

The first night, Ennaly found her way towards Cullen. "I believe I have to thank you for carrying me back through the snow," she said with a smile. It was strange that whatever nervousness she experienced when talking with him before, had left her.

"It... was nothing," he replied. "I am glad I could have helped, after how you saved us in Haven."

She extended a hand towards him. "A celebratory dance, perhaps?"

"Oh." A soft blush crept in near his ears. "I can't dance... I'll just step on your toes." He looked around, clearly uncomfortable by the idea of having all these onlookers.

"Come on, it'll be fun," she persuaded, but he stared at her hand and hesitated too long.

"I'll stand in for him, I do love to dance!" Leliana said, sitting next to Cullen, and they had an enjoyable spin around the campfire., followed by Dorian.

The second night, Ennaly noticed the position of the moons in the skies, and found her feet taking her to the edge of their little camp. It was where Solas usually took his rest, and indeed, she found him sitting in a meditative pose. It was colder here, away from the fire, and his breath gently fogged into the air. When he noticed her approach, he greeted her with a small hello.

She smiled and pointed to the skies. "Both moons are high up," she said coyly. "I am wondering how well you can dance."

"Are you doubting my abilities?" Solas replied, eyebrows raised.

She grinned and extended a hand towards him. "You can prove me wrong."

But as he regarded her, sitting on the ground and looking up to her, Ennaly's breath halted. For a moment, she wished he'd decline. What was she thinking in coming here? He said he'd danced, but did he really? With his calm and collected nature, he was hardly the type for frivolity. Yet, he had surprised her before with his wicked comments.

The corner of his lips curled into curious delight. "Certainly," he said as he took her hand.

It was a surprise. She hadn't expected him to agree. But if she hadn't expected it, why was she here? He kept her hand in his as he led them towards the centre of the camp, where the snow was shovelled away to create ample space.

"I have witnessed your skill in dancing, and you dance well," he said pleasantly as he placed a hand on her waist.

It was another surprise that Ennaly hadn't expected. Another simple touch, a frivolous touch, not one needed for a task like healing or steadying her, but a touch for touch's sake. She'd hugged Dorian and Varric many times, yet not any of the others, and certainly not Solas. And she had danced with so many others during these nights, and they had all touched her like Solas did now.

Well... Not exactly. None of those times did a touch make her hold her breath.

Guided by a happy melody in the music, he spun her around and started to guide her into a dance. She shouldn't have doubted him, she thought. He could dance well. Solas' dancing wasn't frivolous, like Dorian's. It seemed deliberate, a strange combination of practice and intuition, yet not for show. There was a certain grace in his steps and a certain confidence in the way he held her that revealed skill. She remembered how she regarded him a few days ago, his kingly posture when he lit the veilfire torch in a field of diamonds. It was only natural such a man could dance. She wondered where he'd learned it. She didn't ask.

Solas' words brought her out of her reverie. "I believe Dorian hopes we shall be sprouting flowers here," he said quietly.

She followed his gaze and it landed upon Dorian, who was sitting between Varric and Bull, holding his thumbs up towards them. She remembered his teasing, and that flutter in her stomach awoke. "Unlikely, in this snow," she replied.

"Indeed. I also consider it too cold here to undress and dance naked," he said conversationally, and glanced down at her with a half-smirk. Gods, he was a wicked man. How had she never seen it before?

"Heh. Yes, I have to agree," she said half-heartedly, having a hard time finding the voice to respond. "And too many onlookers."

Solas chuckled softly, and spun her around in a different direction. She didn't know the rules to his dance, the moves, the steps, but she could follow him with the same intuition he seemed to possess. There was a harmony between them, not unlike the time when she channelled his magic through her mark. It felt like he was channelling her dancing abilities now, enhancing them, in tune together. Was it something magic, or was it something Elven?

The song ended and Solas came to a slow. Ennaly felt like the last minute – or had it been an hour – was a dream. She didn't want him to release his hold on her, but knew he would.

"Convinced?" he asked with a cocky smile.

"Yes," she breathed. "You can dance."

"Do not doubt my abilities." He wanted to turn around, but stopped himself and glanced back at Ennaly with puzzled curiosity. "Where did you learn this dance?"

She regarded him with the same puzzlement. What an odd question to ask. If he thought she didn't know this dance, then why would he decide to guide her to it? Was it a test, did he try to outsmart her?

"I haven't," Ennaly replied truthfully. "I just followed your lead. It just made sense, I suppose. I didn't have to actively think about it. Intuition, perhaps? Or maybe you're just a good lead."

"You keep surprising me, Ennaly. A dance used to hold magic, once. Perhaps your magical abilities tuned you in," he said, the puzzlement changing into wonder, and then almost admiration.

"Did you learn it while exploring the Fade?" she asked, wondering if that was how he knew.

He gave her a smile. A warm, true smile, that took her breath away. "Something like that, yes." His smile lingered a moment longer before turning calm and collected again."Two dances were enough for me. I believe others would love the chance to dance with their hero. Tomorrow we might reach our destination."

She looked at him, and wished he placed his hand back at her waist. "Good night, Solas."

"Dance well, Ennaly."

The last day of travel was something freeing. The skies were clear and it wasn't too cold. Every step brought them new sights, like a small valley with pine trees. Behind the next mountain was a remnant of the old road again, peeking out from under the snow. The next valley had a stream of cold, quick-flowing water running through it.

The mountains started to blush in pink and orange as the sun lowered in the skies. Solas had said they would be at their destination soon, so instead of making camp, he and Ennaly scouted ahead, following Solas' direction, waiting for the sight that would mean a new beginning.

And there it was, behind the next mountain pass. Their view expanded into a large valley, formed by a now-frosted river. A soft layer of mist hung in the basin, diffusing the last sunrays to a golden glow. Across the valley, nestled between mountains, stood a large stone fortress, forlorn in the snowy environment. How long had it been hidden here in solitude?

"Skyhold," Solas declared.

Ennaly turned to look at him. His eyes were already directed at her, a small smile of victory on his lips. This was the moment, wasn't it? The moment that would change everything, a place of hope, to regroup, gather strength, grow. And Solas made it possible.

Without realizing what she was doing, she threw her arms around him. It surprised him, but he reacted quickly enough by placing his hands on her waist to steady them. It felt good.

Her face carried a brazen, joyous look, slightly flushed by the cold mountain air. He laughed in response to her apparent delight and they locked eyes, grey upon purple, and it felt like pieces were falling in their place. For a moment, his gaze was unguarded and genuine, apparently as happy as she was. Emboldened by their delight, Ennaly reached out to place a hand on his cheek. The spark in her stomach erupted into a small fire, and she couldn't ignore it anymore. She was ready to kiss him.

But then the look on his face changed. From happiness, it turned to wonder, to shock. He was looking at her as if he saw her clearly for the first time. It changed to sorrow, almost to dread. And instead of leaning in, he leaned back, softly shaking his head.

His hands left her waist as if her touch burned him. Uncertainly, Ennaly pulled her own hands away, uncertainty replacing her admiration. He took a step back, but the foot of space felt like an entire valley.

The exchange barely lasted half a minute.

She had been a fool. Whatever flame was burning inside her, clearly wasn't present in him. How could she have fooled herself that there was? He didn't have feelings for her. They'd flirted a bit, sure, but wasn't she flirting with Dorian too, playfully? That never meant anything. Sure, he'd said she had beautiful eyes. It was such an easy thing to say. Dorian called her beautiful too, and used a lot more flowery words than Solas. And she was still certain he had said it in deflection, because she had pushed him in a corner with her talk about the Dalish.

Of course he wouldn't like a Dalish. That much was clear from the first day they met. Embarrassed, wishing she could undo her embrace, she was spared any prolonged awkwardness by the sound of wonderous gasps behind her. The others had followed them and beheld Skyhold in amazement.

Ennaly was hugged, patted on the shoulder, and all were in joy that their long journey through the snow was over. Before they continued the descent to the bridge, she shot a final look at Solas. He once again was calm, stoic, as if nothing had just happened between them.