White Queen

It wasn't long before Lamaira returned. Instead of the bold voice and confident posture that she had shown upon meeting them, she now spoke quietly with downcast eyes. "Please follow me. Keeper Anarel is ready to see you," she said to Solas and Ennaly. Switching to the common tongue, she glanced at Dorian and Bull. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to wait here. You will be allowed to sit here." She pointed at a bench near a small campfire.

Dorian raised his eyebrows, but he and Bull shared a knowing look with Ennaly and Solas. They all shared an understanding that they wanted this to end as soon as possible.

Ennaly took a deep breath as she saw Anarel waiting for them in a small clearing. It was made semi-private with several lengths of loosely woven linen fabric hanging down from the tree branches, gently waving in the wind. The Keeper sat on a beautifully carved chair, while a bench was waiting for Ennaly and Solas, covered with furs and pillows. He rose upon seeing them and held his arms wide for Ennaly, clearly expecting a hug. "We didn't get much of a friendly greeting, did we? Andaran atish'an, pet."

Ennaly felt herself shrink. She knew very well that Anarel liked to play games, and right now, the board was laid out in front of them.

"You do not have to do this," Solas said to her, quietly but sharp.

She knew that she didn't have to. As she considered her options, a breeze caught under her coat and made the hem flare out. Ennaly realised that her coat framed her similar to how Anarel's coat framed him, but hers was white, white being her colour since the moment she was named Inquisitor in that damned Human dress.

She didn't respond or look at Solas, afraid that his expression would cause her to waver. Anarel might regard himself and Solas as the kings of this chess board, but a queen was the most powerful piece. She was a First, and she was Inquisitor. She was filled with power and this man meant nothing.

White was at play.

"Aneth ara, Anarel," she said as she let Anarel hug her. He planted a kiss on her cheek and presented his own. Swallowing her pride, she reached up to return it. With his arms briefly around her, he rubbed his thumb at the back of her neck. It was an intimate gesture and it filled her with repulsion, close to fear, but she willed herself not to show it.

Glancing up, she noticed Anarel closely observing Solas, likely trying to provoke a reaction. But Solas remained quiet.

Being among Dalish should have been joyous to her, empowering to be back in a place that was in tune with her, but instead, she was made to keep small and insignificant. Though... It didn't seem exclusive to her. No seat was readied for Lamaira and she was left standing to the side of Anarel, all her confidence replaced by uncertainty. From the way she was positioned, she looked more like an accessory than an official participant, and on top of that, she was much younger than all of them.

Ennaly looked away and her eyes fell on a wooden plate filled with refreshment. A stack of honey cakes lay on it, and without thought, she took one. It had been months since she had one, but it was every bit as delicious as she remembered. They were made with halla milk and sweetened with honey, with just a bit of thyme in there for flavour.

Anarel's voice shook her from her memories. "It seems they are still your favourite, aren't they, doll?"

With a feeling of dread, she glanced up and realised she had played right into him. He placed them there for her specifically. If he had been any other person, it might be seen as a thoughtful gesture to remember her favourite dish. But for him, it was no nicety. Everything he had ever done was insincere, a manipulation.

Without any effort to conceal his smugness, he handed a cake to Lamaira. She took it and he placed his hand on her belly. A jolt of shock shot through Ennaly as she realised the slight swell. "My fifth," he said proudly.

The words stung. "Mythal's blessings and my congratulations," Ennaly said and Lamaira returned a watery smile. Oh, how Ennaly felt for the poor girl.

"Only Anarion has magical abilities so far, but with our powers combined, I'm sure this will be a prodigious child." Anarel nodded his head in the direction of several Elves in the camp. A lanky teenager practised with a bow, and a young boy and a girl sat in the class. From the look of them, the teenager had a different mother than the two children.

Ennaly's ears turned pink. "I hope it will be a healthy child," she said, addressing Lamaira rather than Anarel.

Solas took the large wooden plate of food, placed it on the edge of the bench beside him, and offered the now-free stool to Lamaira. "Please, sit. It seems hardly fair to keep standing while we are seated."

Hesitantly, Lamaira looked at Solas and sat down on the stool. Curious, she kept looking at him. She probably hadn't seen many adult Elves without Vallaslin, and while he might be dressed rather humbly like the Dalish, he looked so different. Ennaly hadn't noticed quite how much different until they were surrounded by Dalish. He was taller and his physique more muscular than the Elves here. Did Elves from the north just have a different build?

Solas' action clearly displeased Anarel, but he kept his mouth shut. It was clear that Anarel regarded Solas as his opponent, rather than Ennaly. And perhaps he was right, she thought. Lamaira hardly looked like a queen, and perhaps Ennaly was just as much a pawn in this game.

Anarel grinned lazily at Ennaly. "Tell me, what do you want from me, sweet pea? Besides the obvious."

The emphasis with which Anarel said his endearments was enough to raise the hair at the back of her neck. Solas must have seen her flinch and he sat up straight. Despite sitting on a bench and dressed so much more humbly than Anarel, he was more imposing than ever.

"It is rather telling of a man's character how he treats those surrounding him, Keeper," he said. His hands were on his lap, relaxed, as if he was in full control. Ennaly had never really noticed how nice his hands were, or how beautifully sculpted his fingers. "I urge you to show the proper respect to our Inquisitor."

Anarel leaned forward in his chair, a cocky grin on his face. "Or what?" he taunted.

But Solas wasn't intimidated by him. With his still and quiet confidence, he looked straight at Anarel and leaned back. "Or you will lose any respect I have left for you," he replied calmly.

Anarel kept staring and Ennaly knew that he never expected to be talked back to. Solas was still unfamiliar to him, and he was still testing the waters on how he should act. In the end, Anarel laughed. "You're a funny man," he replied. "So… Proper respect to our Inquisitor, you said?" He laughed again and eyed Ennaly. "She used to love those little pet names once, you know. She always had her head up in tales. I bet she'd like it if you all call her milady and worship her. Herald of Andraste, right? Are you so removed from your Elven roots that you believe in that Shem nonsense?"

The colour drained from Ennaly's face, but Solas was still every bit relaxed. "Her powers are far from any nonsense," he said. "And I had presumed an individual of your... discernment to be smart enough to see beyond such superstition. Her abilities are real, and I can vouch for them."

"Ha! I bet you do," Anarel replied. "I did, too."

Ennaly wished the earth would swallow her, but Solas' confidence in her was encouraging. Whatever his outwards posture, Solas clenched his jaw in fury. Anarel seemed to miss it and leaned back in his chair, mimicking Solas's posture. That was a loss for Anarel.

"You know what, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," he said, the humour having slipped from his mouth. "Tell me about your... Inquisition."

Seizing the opportunity, Ennaly started talking about what they were doing and what had been happening. The clan hadn't seen the Breach, since it was too far away, but they had heard of it, and they had encountered rifts. Anarel seemed receptive to the story at first and spoke about recent trouble with a rift to the south. Ennaly promised to investigate.

All went well, or appeared to, at least. When Ennaly finished her story, she requested help. She didn't ask for much. Simply to pass on useful information, or help Inquisition scouts if they were in the area.

And that was when Anarel started to laugh again. "See, this is where we disagree," he replied. "We simply have no interest in helping. Your tales were very amusing, but there is a single point you have not touched upon. Your organization is a Human one. You're just a token Elf they placed at top so they can all fawn over your doe eyes. Something unthreatening to hide the actual power."

Blood rushed back to Ennaly's ears. "Token Elf?" she repeated with disbelief. "Do you honestly believe the Inquisition wouldn't have gained more sympathy and acceptance if they had placed a Human at the top? I have gained this position because of my deeds, and because I alone carry this power."

"And if you consider her unthreatening, you must not have seen her fight," Solas added, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

Anarel laughed. "Sure, it's entertaining to see her fight. Jump up and down a bit, trying to handle that large staff, sweat running down her face..."

And to Ennaly's surprise, Solas started to laugh. From the way Anarel stared at Solas, it surprised him as well. "Yeah? Amusing image?"

"Amusing that your definition of fighting is jumping up and down, certainly," Solas replied casually. "That says a lot about your own abilities, Keeper."

"You dare, flat-ear?" Anarel shot back, visibly insulted. "Because you don't know what we did last night. We won a fight with three dozen Humans, with hardly any casualties on our side. We're currently preparing our winnings."

"We have witnessed the aftermath," Solas continued, his anger now at surface level. "Many arrows scattered the scene, yet we hardly perceived any signs of magical damage. Furthermore, your opponents were mere farmers. Pardon my lack of awe for your accomplishments."

Whatever blood had rushed to Ennaly's face before, left. She wasn't surprised by Anarel's admission of the slaughter they'd witnessed, but it didn't tell her anything of the justification. The tension between the two men foreshadowed an imminent fight. A quick glance at Lamaira told her that the girl was terrified. Ennaly acted quickly, raised her left hand, and channelled a large surge of energy through it. Green light radiated from her palm and turned all four faces ghost-like. Both Solas and Anarel turned to her with battle-ready expressions, but paused their hostility towards each other.

"We're supposed to be on the same side," Ennaly pleaded to Anarel. "This is our opponent, or what this represents. The rifts, the demons, this Elder One… He threatens the Elves as much as the Humans. Would you go down together?"

He raised his eyebrows as Ennaly closed her hand in a fist, cutting off the green glow. "I have seen no such creature," he replied coldly. "I have no proof this happened."

"History teaches us that dismissing undeniable danger in the presence of empirical evidence is a folly," Solas said with a similar coldness. "You have seen the rifts in the forests and the mark on her hand. Do you deny your own eyes?"

Anarel gazed at Solas and Ennaly in turn, clearly debating how he would react. It wasn't long before he released a short disbelieving laugh and leaned forward in his chair. His necklaces clattered together and his shirt fell open to reveal the green lines that twisted all over his chest. Once, Ennaly had thought him so attractive, but it was hard to keep seeing that now she knew his true personality. Now, his smirk made her want to throw the unfinished honey cake at him.

"That hand?" he said. "Nice parlour trick. Perhaps you should follow me back to my aravel. I do so wonder if it has any special tricks when it is wrapped around my –"

Solas didn't let him finish. "I had almost forgotten just how unpleasant people can be. I shall thank you for reminding me."

It amused Anarel greatly. He relaxed in his chair, propping up one foot so it rested on his opposite knee, his fingers laced together. "Oh? Do you prefer she wraps it around yours? She's such a pretty little thing. Her hands are quite small. I can tell you from experience –"

Solas turned to Ennaly, who was humiliated by Anarel's words. All anger had left her, but it only raged harder in Solas. Finally, he had lost his calm and collective demeanour. She supposed she must give Anarel some credit, for if Solas' cold rage was directed at her, she'd surely not be sitting as confidently. "Perhaps we should take our leave," Solas said to her.

But before Ennaly could collect her thoughts enough to speak, Anarel continued his sneer. "Still listening to older men like a little girl, Ennaly? Who's really leading this Inquisition of yours?"

She wasn't proud of it, but she was scared of Anarel. He always had a greater power than her, both physically and magically. But what could she do? Go against him, or surrender and let Solas handle this?

She had more pride than that, didn't she? Grasping at straws at what to do, she glanced at Solas. She could see the anger in him still, but he flashed her a small smile of recognition, before taking a deep breath. With a nod of his head and an encouraging rise of his eyebrows, he urged her to do the same. Ennaly copied him, and took a deep breath. Slowly, the fear faded into the background.

"Who's to say I'll just let you leave?" Anarel continued. "I want something in return for all this hospitality." He grinned as he looked her up and down, undressing her with his eyes.

"It isn't hospitality if you expect something in return," she replied, trying to force confidence back in her voice. "I'm never going to give you anything, you know that, right?"

Anarel laughed and looked at Solas again. Ennaly realised his words were never meant to taunt her, but rather to provoke him. "Can't deal with it if I talk dirty about your precious little Inquisitor?"

Solas' anger had nearly solidified. "I cannot say it does not fill me with repulsion to see a man acting like you," he said with disgust.

Anarel laughed again, and Ennaly realised she had to act fast again if she wanted to defuse this. She was no scared twenty-year old anymore, and her powers had certainly grown. She was the damned Inquisitor, whether Anarel liked it or not. She was no insignificant pawn.

Focus on your surroundings, her Keeper always said. The winds rustled through the trees overhead, the linen draperies softly swishing. Familiar smells hung in the air, thyme and lemon balm drying nearby. From a distance, the sound of laughing children.

Ennaly forced herself to smile. "You're making one mistake here, Anarel," she said, calmly but strong. "I am no longer twenty. I know your words are vapid, nothing but fleeting insults. They don't bother me. Say all the vulgarities you like, see if I care, get them out of your system."

"Vulgarities?" Anarel repeated with dismissing laughter.

Ennaly ignored him. "I have one more question to ask you, and after that, you'll let us go. You will let us go. You know the Inquisition knows my route and my rough location. If I don't return, they will come looking, because they care what happens to their precious little Inquisitor. The same goes for my friends. The Inquisition has the numbers and the means to find out what happens. You don't want to risk that for your clan, for your family."

Anarel raised his eyebrows in disbelief, and scoffed. "Are you threatening me, little mage?"

"No," she said calmly, a sweet smile on her face. "I am merely explaining the situation to you. What you do with it, is up to you."

Feeling Solas' eyes burn into her, she glanced aside and saw pride and admiration. She granted him a small smile. Anarel might have underestimated her, but Solas had not. This was a check.

"Ask your question," Anarel said shortly as he leaned back in the chair, his arms folded over each other.

"Why did you attack the Humans?" she asked.

Anarel laughed again and unfolded his arms. "Do you really have to ask? It's because they deserved it. They weren't willing to trade with us, but they had something we needed."

"What did you need?" she asked apprehensively.

"Iron tools that we cannot forge," Anarel replied casually.

Ennaly stared at him, not believing his answer. "You killed those farmers over iron tools?"

"Of course! What would you have done, spread your legs?" He laughed at his own joke.

Flashes of a barn. Rain audible on the roof, a soft pitter-patter. The smell of ale on the man's breath.

Ennaly willed the unbidden memory away. She couldn't compare what she had done years ago, to this. She had given up a piece of herself to help save the life of a clan member, not just to gain some tools. It had taken her a long time to find that piece of herself back, and she wouldn't let Anarel take it away.

He didn't even know. Those events were years after he lived with her clan. But Solas knew. She had confessed it to him, back when he still frowned at her Vallaslin. She felt his eyes on her, but she couldn't bear to look at him. It didn't matter if his gaze was encouraging or disgusted, it might make her lose all resolve.

"There were innocent children among those farmers," she tried.

Anarel shrugged. "The Empress did much worse to the Elves in Halamshiral. What about all the innocent children there? I think a few dozen Humans pale in comparison to the thousand killed there, doesn't it?"

"Revenge won't make it right!" Ennaly called out. "Those farmers didn't kill the Elves in Halamshiral. This isn't justice."

Anarel revelled in her distress. "Sometimes you need to claim Elgar'nan's revenge instead of waiting for Mythal's justice. It is much sweeter."

"You're horrible," Ennaly said in disbelieving disgust. Not only had Anarel countered her move, but he'd also turned it around on her with his story. She'd known, deep down, that it was some unjustified reason, but to hear it spoken out loud in such a casual tone was too much.

Solas was right. This Dalish clan certainly was despicable.

She glanced aside. He looked at Anarel still, his lips thin in rage as Anarel shifted his attention to him. "You're not a weak-hearted woman. Surely you must understand that sometimes sacrifices are necessary for the greater good."

"We are nothing alike," Solas replied coldly, rising from the bench and turning to Ennaly. "I think we are done here."

Perhaps they could end this on a draw. "Yes, I think this conversation is over," she agreed, rising too.

So did Anarel. "Are you really saying there won't be a happy ending?" he taunted. "Oh, how I was looking forward to your touch, Ennaly."

Solas took a step forward, threateningly. He looked tall again, powerful, intimidating in cold anger. "You disgust me," he said, his patience finally having worn out. And as it turned out, without the restraint he normally possessed, Solas' anger was a power to behold.

For a moment, Anarel flinched back before he steadied himself, ready to counter. "Are you jealous, flat-ear? Is it because you're not a true Elf?"

This was the true breaking point, and Ennaly knew that she couldn't let that happen. Quickly, she stepped between them. "Let's keep matters civil, won't we?"

For a moment, she thought both Solas and Anarel would push her aside, saying a little girl had no place in their squabble, but she forced herself to stay calm. "It's clear we won't come to an understanding here."

Familiar as she was to Solas' magic, she could sense the build-up in his body. But for the first time, Anarel paid no heed to him. He looked at Ennaly as if this was the first time he considered her as her own person, rather than an accessory. The look didn't last long, and he shrugged, looking around. "Suit yourself. I always have –"

Ennaly had forgotten about Lamaira. The young mage had stepped aside when the discussion had become too heated, preferring to disappear into the environment. She stood to the side still, scared as Ennaly had once been.

And she knew she couldn't leave it like that. Anarel had taunted Ennaly enough, had messed enough with her mind when she was younger, and she couldn't let him use another girl like that. Unwittingly, by involving Lamaira, Anarel had given Ennaly exactly the strength she needed. She might not have had the strength to stand up for herself, but she did have the strength to stand up for others.

Besides, she wasn't done here in this Dalish camp. "Lamaira," she said, interrupting Anarel. "I have a favour to ask you. Before I leave, I would like to visit your clan's altar. I would like a private prayer. Would you guide me to the place?"

Lamaira seemed too scared to answer. Slowly, Ennaly took a deep breath and mimicked Solas' earlier expression to urge her to do the same. After a short hesitation, the girl did and visibly relaxed. Yes, Ennaly thought. This girl, in time, would also stand up against him.

"Certainly," Lamaira replied. "It's a beautiful – "

But Anarel held her back. "Certainly not," he laughed. "I am Keeper. If you want this, I will bring you there." His grin contorted the green lines on his face to something not even remotely handsome. When she didn't give an immediate answer, he stepped aside and made a pompous bow. "You said private, didn't you? So just you then, little Inquisitor."

Clearly, he wasn't done playing this game yet. But Ennaly was calm now, and wasn't scared. She could take his bait. But before she could take a step, a hand closed in on her upper arm. Surprised, Ennaly spun around to find Solas' grey eyes gazing into hers.

"You don't have to do this," he said quietly. "We can just leave. That man has taunted you enough. Ignore him."

Ennaly was surprised to see the compassion in him and was unable to look away. "You don't understand," she muttered softly, and held up the Anchor between them. "This isn't about him. It's about this. There is so little I understand. I've not had a chance to be this close to my Gods since this has been burned on me. I need this."

The compassion in Solas' eyes turned to remorse. "You do not need statues to converse with your Gods."

She was aware of Anarel looking at them, but he was too far away to hear their whispers. "Perhaps you don't, but I do. Tell me if you know a better way."

Solas' grip on her tightened and almost involuntarily, he jerked her closer. His eyes begged her, but what for, she couldn't understand. At this moment, nothing would have surprised her. Would he deny her going, would he embrace her, argue with her, kiss her?

Instead, he sighed, lowered his eyes, and let her go. "You are the Inquisitor," he said, his voice impassive, but for a small hint of sadness. It was clear, however, that he did not want her to go.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know you didn't want this. Thank you for being here for me."

Solas glanced up at her. "Just... make it quick, please."

With a final look at him, Ennaly turned around and walked to Anarel. "Seems like the girl can make her own decisions," he taunted before he laughed and placed a hand on her back. She immediately shrugged it away, making Anarel laugh again. She could feel Solas' eyes on them from where he stood.

"Everything okay, Boss?" Bull asked when they passed him.

"Why are you following that man?" Dorian added, his eyes narrowed.

"I don't need long," she said, not answering the questions nor meeting their eyes. "Please ready the horses. I'll be there shortly."

Swallowing back a lump in her throat, Ennaly followed the Keeper. She had hoped to find friendly faces among the Dalish, perhaps some support in these trying times, but instead she found the most brutish clan possible.

As they neared the edge, she shot a final glance into the camp to take it all in, the familiar sounds and scents and faces. How long would it be before she would see her own clan again? Mournfully, she regretted not having the chance to stay a little longer.