Nightmare

Ennaly danced around between the trees, trying to keep up with Solas. While they were travelling back to the main forces of the Inquisition, Solas started to teach her how to Fade-step. Ennaly understood the basics, but it still took her quite a lot of energy and concentration, and she only managed small distances.

Solas suggested that they could make it more interesting by incorporating dance, trying to Fade-step during their movement and ending up in the exact same position, so they could continue their dancing. In the beginning, Solas guided Ennaly and took her along, but the more they practised, the more he released his magical guidance and let Ennaly perform it herself.

Truth be told, it wasn't going too well and Ennaly hardly ever managed to end up in the same spot as Solas, let alone precise enough to keep her pose and momentum.

"You will get the hang of it," Solas said as he stood to await her, his arms still gracefully held high, the position she had just vacated.

Ennaly panted and instead of using her magic to close the final distance, she stepped normally and let herself rest again Solas. "Well, it certainly won't be tonight," she replied, exhausted. "Let's continue tomorrow."

"Do not be discouraged," Solas consoled as he took her arms in his to support her. "For a new type of magic, you caught on well in only a few days."

"I'm not sure if you're just saying that to make me feel better or if you actually mean it," Ennaly replied with a half-hearted smile, glad for his support.

"I am not fond of lying," Solas answered. "I would rather hold my tongue than give false encouragements."

Ennaly adjusted her grip and wrapped her arms around his waist instead. "I'd rather hold your tongue, too," she teased as she looked up, kissed him, and was greeted by raised eyebrows as she parted. "But I would hold your praise until I properly improve. It's nice, though, learning some new applications of magic."

Arms around each other, they made their way back to camp. They had caught up with the main forces the day before, but still preferred to make their camp at the edge of the main group for more privacy.

"I am completely drained," Ennaly declared dramatically as she dropped down next to Dorian and removed her hairpin so she could comfortably fall back.

Dorian coughed, a little awkwardly. "We have company," he said quietly to her.

She shot upright again and noticed Solas still standing and looking aside. A little distance away sat Cullen, next to Cassandra, dressed in casual clothing as if he was almost ready for bed. His eyes were pointed directly at the two Elves.

"Good evening, Inquisitor, Solas," he said with a nod to each.

Ennaly felt a flush creep up her face. "Good evening, Commander," she replied, and Solas mimicked her greeting.

"I am afraid I bring news," Cullen said, his face serious before he frowned. She still hadn't quite caught her breath. "Is this – ah – do we need to wait?"

Bull chuckled, a little too loudly for Ennaly's comfort.

Oh.

But they didn't really... "We were practising magic. My... mana is exhausted. Trying to master new spells and..." She realised she was being an idiot, and took a deep steadying breath before getting to her feet. "What news do you bring?"

The expression on his face seemed to indicate that it wasn't good. Cassandra, next to him, had a similar dire expression, but the other ones looked perfectly happy. So, whatever it was, didn't seem to have been shared with all.

Cullen took a deep breath before he answered. "I just received a letter from Leliana. I didn't want to wait for our morning debriefing to tell you. I think it is best if I tell you this... privately. I am afraid this isn't happy news." His eyes shifted towards Solas, who was standing immaculately postured and calm of breath. "Perhaps you should come too. For... Comfort."

"Comfort? Is it that bad?" Ennaly joked, a little uncomfortable with how uncomfortable Cullen seemed to be. He didn't answer and she shared a quizzical look with Solas. She grabbed her decorated hairpin again and twisted her hair in a bun before she followed Cullen.

They walked a little bit into the forest, far enough to not be overheard, but not far enough to be fully out of sight or light of the campfire. Every step felt like tension growing in the atmosphere and suddenly Ennaly wasn't sure anymore if she wanted to hear this news.

She glanced at Cullen taking a letter out of pocket, smoothed it, looked at it, and sighed. Lowering the letter, he looked up at Ennaly. "I have received a letter from Leliana. She writes about word she received from her agents at Wycome."

Wycome. That was near the location where clan Lavellan camped last. Not too long ago, they had requested aid, in the same letter that included the ironwood bracelet. Ennaly had written back that of course they would help, and perhaps her mother could come visit Skyhold.

"I..." Cullen continued. "I am very sorry, Ennaly. Your clan... It seems like the Duke of Wycome is no longer an ally of the Inquisition. Your clan... I regret to inform you that none have survived."

Ennaly stared at him, her mouth slightly ajar. Solas took a sharp intake of breath and grabbed her hand, but Ennaly pulled it back. She laughed, looking at Cullen as if he was joking. Certainly, he must be?

But he didn't laugh back.

And the dreaded tension she had felt with each step towards this place, closed in around her. "What do you mean, none have survived?" she asked, incredulous. The words he spoke had no meaning to her, like he was speaking a foreign language.

"The army of Wycome, they attacked your clan… None of them survived the attack." Cullen looked uncomfortable, and only faintly did it register to Ennaly that a Human was telling two Elves that Humans elsewhere had slaughtered an entire clan.

But it couldn't be right, could it?

"Surely you don't mean…" Ennaly asked as her entire world came crumbling down. Unsteady, she lost her balance, but Solas quickly wrapped an around her.

"I am so sorry for your loss," Cullen spoke quietly. "We are informed that the scouts gathered all the bodies and a Dalish among them performed the customary funeral rites."

She laughed again, but it felt hollow. "But… The children? The elderly? Surely, my Keeper…"

"There are no survivors. I am so sorry."

"Why?" she asked with heat. Why would Humans kill her clan? They weren't violent like Anarel's clan. They always took the peaceful option.

Cullen took a deep breath but tried to make himself look consoling. "We are currently investigating that. Our agents are right at it."

It was only because of the sudden salty taste in her mouth that she noticed the tears running down her face. She didn't know when she started crying, but she knew she couldn't stop now.

She found herself buried in Solas' chest without a memory of turning around, his arms tight around her. Her clan, her entire world until months ago, all... gone?

Solas whispered consoling words to her, but they didn't land. She heard him talk, but she wasn't processing them. Understanding it was futile, Solas shifted his to address Cullen instead. "Thank you for bringing this news."

"I couldn't… I couldn't withhold this," Cullen replied. "I have Leliana's letter here, in case she wants to read it."

"Thank you, Commander." Solas shifted to accept the piece of paper and placed it in his pocket, but Ennaly kept clutching at him, unresponsive to the world around her.

Cullen remained standing, uncertain and awkward. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

As Ennaly didn't answer nor gave any signal that she had heard his words, Solas gave the reply. "I have it from here. We shall return a little later. My thanks again, Commander."

Cullen looked at the small sobbing form of Ennaly, looking even smaller in her sorrow. "I am truly sorry for your loss, Ennaly."

Footsteps indicated his return to the camp as Solas softly sat them down on the forest ground, pulling Ennaly close against him.

Her clan was dead. Once, that had been her entire world, her past, present and future, and now... She remembered the kind, patient smiles of her mother, the laughter of her friends' children, the furrow in her Keeper's brow as she concentrated on magic. The evenings at the camp, the scent of stew, of honey cakes, those times she cuddled up with others in an aravel, listening to the sound of thunderstorms overhead, safe in their own little enclosed space.

"I am so sorry," Solas whispered, hugging her close to him, and she clutched to him, feeling like he was the only comfort left to her. She had no words to express her sorrow, her helplessness, and they sat there for minutes beyond her registration.

When the tears seemed to have stalled, Solas dried her eyes and grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket so she could blow her nose. She did and looked up at the rapidly darkening skies, fresh tears remaining behind.

"They were my entire world, once," she whispered unsteadily. "For thirty years, they have been my life, my clan, my family, my friends. Everything I had from before the Inquisition is gone, taken away from me. I have... nothing to return to."

Ennaly had faced death, certainly. Before she joined the Inquisition, it was never in large numbers. Elderly that died, or an occasional sickness, the worst ones always being the children. The largest at once were eight hunters, all killed by Humans, but that had been when Ennaly had been a small child.

And this was different. All the death she had seen since, like at Haven, were mostly nameless, and while she mourned them, she hadn't known them. It was the other way around now, no bodies to mourn, only names.

She looked at Solas, and for a moment, she thought he was crying too, but as she leaned back, there were no tears on his face, only reflective eyes.

She didn't know too much about this past, but she did know he had painful memories. Was his past similar to hers, in ways? That all those he had known at one time were dead? He had been alone for a very long time. Was that out of choice? He had spirit friends, but no people friends she knew of.

"Does it get easier?" she asked. "Grief?"

"I cannot answer that," Solas replied, his eyes like bright crystals. "But it will, probably, with time."

But how could it?

Sobs overtook Ennaly again as new memories entered her mind. Gathering food with her friends. She'd once used magic to fill an entire grove with buttercup flowers, so a friend could proclaim their love to another. She had helped birth their first child. She remembered dancing around the fire, seasonal festivals where she and her Keeper performed magic to honour their Gods.

Her sobbing stopped with a large intake of breath. Their Gods... They had revered them, but what had they ever done? They had done nothing to protect her clan, to prevent their death.

Her eyes shifted to the ironwood bracelet on her wrist. Each bead depicted a God. She prayed to them, and none had ever answered. In a violent move, she grabbed the bracelet and yanked on it, hard. The beads might have been made from ironwood, but the leather string holding them together was breakable. She hardly noticed the pain of the beads pressing into her skin as the leather core broke, the beads erupting in all directions.

Solas' reaction was quick. Before the beads scattered, he cast a barrier spell to catch them and scooped them in his hand.

"They never did anything to help!" Ennaly called in anger, wanting to push away from Solas. She wanted to run into the forest to scream, call forth lightning and see something shatter the way her future was shattered.

"Vhenan," Solas said soothingly as he held her close, preventing her from pulling away.

Ennaly's violent urge died down as quickly as it had come and she collapsed against Solas' chest. "It's not their fault," she said, her voice a shell of what it usually was. "They couldn't have prevented this. They never did anything for us, did they?"

She looked up to Solas' face again. Images of her clan dancing around the fire, as she, dressed in white with a crown of flowers on her head, called for the aid of their Gods, a blessing for the season to come. They had been starting to teach Anarion, Anarel's son.

And suddenly, she understood Anarel's revenge.

"Humans did this," she said in a low voice, almost a growl of anger. "Our Gods couldn't have helped, locked away as they are. But Humans, they are to blame. For everything, aren't they? Why? Are they jealous, are they afraid? We never harmed anyone."

"Ennaly..." Solas said as he cupped her cheek compassionately.

If those who were responsible had been here, she wouldn't have doubted showing them what the wrath of an Elven mage could look like.

But no... That was different from what Anarel had done. Not all Humans wanted this, not all Humans were responsible. Innocent children, like those Anarel had killed, were blameless, and there were enough Humans that would denounce this deed. Dorian, Cassandra, her advisors, and a large part of their soldiers and staff, probably.

They wouldn't be following an Elf, otherwise.

Justice, not revenge.

But what was justice here?

Ennaly felt her anger slip away, but she did not calm down. There was no peace in her heart, no calmness, just... nothing.

"We have to keep on going," she said, her voice flat. "We have to stop the Wardens, we have to stop Corypheus."

"Ennaly, it is alright to grieve. I am here for you, as I am certain the others are."

If anyone was to blame, it was her. She hadn't been there to help. Certainly, the Inquisition could have helped, send more soldiers... Certainly, if she'd done anything different, her clan might still be alive, and she would still have a future.

But would she have? Would she have been able to go back and live the Dalish life she had left all those months ago? She had experienced more in the months of the Inquisition than she had thought possible. Assumptions on Humans that were wrong. A vision into different cultures, different viewpoints. Would the Dalish have accepted her back with all the experiences and understanding she had gathered?

That realisation felt like a betrayal against her grief. How could she grieve the loss of a future that was not hers? She grieved the people, certainly, she loved them, and had once given anything to them. But wasn't it slighted, that she did not grieve the loss of lifestyle and ideology?

Guilt.

She was ashamed of herself. She didn't want Solas' embrace. As she leaned back, he kissed her brow, and she halted. Even if she might not want his embrace, felt undeserving of it, she needed it. She closed her eyes and leaned against him.

"Is there anything you want, anything you need...?"

She shook her head, avoiding his eyes.

"I am going to hold onto these for now," he said quietly, holding up his hand to show the ironwood beads. "You might want them back one day."

Her mother had made them, and he knew it.

"Thank you," she replied, meaning it.

They remained sitting there together for several quiet moments before Ennaly sighed and wiped her face on her sleeve. "We should probably return to the others."

"If you want to. We are not in a hurry."

She smiled at him. It would be best to return now, rather than later. Later might be harder.

And when she returned, they were all there waiting for her, hugged her, and comforted her.

"Certainly, you can spare her for the next few days," Dorian said to Cullen.

Ennaly wanted to extricate herself from his arms. "No..." she muttered. "We have a dinner in two days... Duke Stefan, or something." Josephine had been busy arranging several diplomatic visits and follow-ups with nobles they had spoken to at the ball, and they were supposed to have dinner at his estate that lay en route to Adamant.

"Just say the Inquisitor's busy closing rifts," Varric suggested. "The nobles can't argue that, since it saves their lands. Might be true even, if we take a detour."

"I can join instead," Cassandra offered to Cullen. It was a testimony of her care, for Cassandra disliked entertaining the nobility.

Cullen nodded. "Take the detour," he agreed. "We will meet you back in the Western Approach."

"Thank you," Ennaly replied, fighting back the tears of her gratitude, and failing. But all tears were hidden from view as Dorian scooped her back in a hug again.

"I'll dirty your coat," Ennaly sniffled, muffled through the fabric.

"My coat doesn't care," Dorian replied, his voice soothing.

Whatever happened, she was not alone.

The dry leaves cracked under her feet as she moved through the clearing. Careful steps, slow steps. She didn't want to step on the bodies, after all.

They surrounded her, their blood soaking the layer of composted leaves and debris. Her steps made a strange rhythm through the silence, almost like a heartbeat.

Crunch, squelch. Crunch, squelch.

And it was cold, so very cold that Ennaly was shivering. Was it this cold near Wycome? It was so warm in Orlais with spring well on its way.

She recognised faces. Familiar eyes, staring unseen at the grey skies, familiar lines curling around their features, different colours mixing in with the bright red of blood.

Deshanna and Anarion were close together, broken staves near them. Was the boy forced to fight, too? He was so young, his green innocent eyes staring up at the green canopy.

With a sudden fluid move that could only be described as gracious, he rose up, the glassy eyes staring straight at her, the mouth a mournful line.

You could have saved us, he spoke, but his mouth wasn't moving. Even so, the Dalish accent was familiar to her ears.

She froze, unable to lift a finger or bat an eye, fear and despair freezing her very core.

Dashanna rose next to the boy, her long white hair loose and matted with blood. You could have saved us, but you did not want to. You did not want to return.

Her hahren joined them. You got your wish, there is nothing to return to, da'len.

Between them, shoving them aside, emerged the woman she had saved with medicine. It didn't matter what you sacrificed. We are all dead now. You made no difference.

Behind her, her mother's voice rang and Ennaly moved, so sudden that she fell backwards. Her mother looked closer, a large cut over her face and the familiar threadbare blanket around her shoulders. You call yourself Dalish? I haven't raised you like this, pledging yourself to the Dread Wolf.

Several voices echoed around her, rising to a crescendo, as all members of clan Lavellan closed in on her. Harellan!

They said it to mean traitor, but did it, really? Hadn't Solas told her it meant rebel?

She raised her arms in front of her, her hands slick with blood and dirt from the soil, awaiting the impact of nails raking her flesh.

But it didn't come.

Through her eyelids, she saw a bright light. The cold had dissipated, and somehow, the pressing atmosphere was replaced by calmness.

She opened her eyes.

In front of her was Cole, in some kind of white tunic, extending a hand to her, his bright blue eyes, icy as they were, warmed her heart with assurances.

"Cole? You are beautiful," she gasped, extending her hand, and found that it wasn't covered with blood at all. She took Cole's hand, which somehow felt both solid and without physicality at the same time, warm and cool, yet strong enough to pull her to her feet.

"Am I?" he asked, almost confused.

"Here, he can truly be a spirit of Compassion," another familiar voice said behind her, just a little of the Dalish accent shining through.

"Solas?" she asked, turning around to find him fully dressed in a well-fitted black outfit. "Where are...?"

She still found herself in the same forest clearing, but instead of grey and oppressing, it was overcast and bright, with flowers and moss on the place where the bodies had lain.

"This was just a nightmare?" she asked, realising they were in the Fade and she was sleeping. She felt stupid. Of course she wasn't magically transported to Wycome.

"It was fabricated by Despair," Cole replied. "It wasn't real."

She stared around the clearing where the familiar faces had mouthlessly yelled at her, accused her, and felt herself getting small. Before the tears welled up in her eyes, Solas wrapped his arms around her and gently held her against his chest.

"It wasn't their words," Cole continued, stepping closer. "They don't blame you. That was the demon talking."

"It might have been the demon," she sobbed. "But they might have held those thoughts, too."

Cole perched up, as if he was listening to sound only audible to him. "Holding onto hope, hearing horror. Relief in her heart as she took her last breath. Her Little Bee is safe. Dancing in her white dress, purple flowers in her hair, fingers sticky with honey, hair the same colour. Laughter, joy. Proud of the woman she became, powerful but sad, burdened with duty. She hopes her Da'dahn can find happiness."

It was strange to hear Cole saying the Elven word with perfect pronunciation, almost in the same sing-song melody her mother used.

"How - how do you know that name?" Ennaly asked, leaning back from Solas.

When she was a little girl, her mother used to call her Little Bee, Da'dahn, for her love of honey cakes, her joyful buzzing around the camp and her love for flowers. It had been so long since she heard it, she had almost forgotten.

"I listened. Don't you feel it?" Cole asked, looking around.

Ennaly stepped away from Solas' arms and turned around in the clearing. Little wisps floated between the vegetation, glowing softly. As they passed by, strong emotions tugged at Ennaly's soul, heartache, sorrow, rage, fear, but also pride, love, hope, and peace.

"Is it them?" she asked in wonder as a tear ran over her cheek. Joy touched her, and to feel that spark after what had happened felt like a betrayal to the memory of her clan.

Cole stared at her. "Yes, and no."

Ennaly turned to Solas, in the hope that he could offer understanding.

"Strong emotions can leave an imprint in the Fade," Solas explained. "It attracts budding spirits like these, and can last long after the living have left."

Ennaly closed her eyes and let the wisps swirl around her, their movement pulling on the loose strands of hair. Were these truly the emotions of her clan, imprinted on the spirits, or mirrored by them? Tears streamed down her face as she felt love's caress brush across her shoulder, and for a whiff, she thought she caught her mother's scent.

"Can you show me?" she asked, opening her eyes. "The place they are buried?"

Cole smiled and took her hand. "Yes."

They only walked fifteen paces before the entire surroundings changed. They stood high up in a glen between hilltops, a small stream running through the length, and in the distance, between the two hilltops, a view over the sea. Reeds grew in the banks of the stream and wildflowers dotted the hillsides.

It was truly breathtaking.

Alongside the stream, further in the valley, were rows of fresh-dug mounds. Leliana had written that the customary rites were performed. Were seeds planted on the graves, so trees would grow? It must be. But there had been no mage to start their growth, as she would have done.

Years from now, when the trees would be mature, this place must be a perfect resting place. In early morning, the sun would shine between the hills onto the glen and at noon, the trees would offer welcome shade.

She knew it wouldn't affect the real world, but Ennaly wanted to do something, anything more than the nothing she felt she had done. She walked passed the rows of mounds, and as she passed them, hand outstretched, trees erupted from the earth, looming over them and casting shade around the valley.

She sat down as she reached the end near the view over the sea, flanked by Cole and Solas, feeling as defeated as she could.

She did know, that when she woke up and before she left to take their detour, she had to write a letter to Anarel. The memory of him wasn't a pleasant one, but where she had lost her entire clan, he had lost a son. He had lived with clan Lavellan for two years, had known them. He deserved to know.

She could accept, perhaps, that her clan members didn't see her as responsible for their demise, but that didn't change her feelings. She was busy saving the world from Corypheus yet had failed to save her own people.

The Dalish.

She doubted in her heart what that even meant anymore. They had their flaws, had their prejudices that turned out untrue. They had a limited view of the world, born out of their isolation. Could she blame them for ignorance they had no way of disproving?

Reality was so much more complicated. And no matter what, she could never see herself returning to her old lifestyle, now that her world had grown so much.

They sat in silence, but as they watched the breeze ripple through the grass and flowers on the hills. Ennaly couldn't deny the gnawing guilt inside.

"A thunderstorm, lightning lashing loud. Where is Ennaly?" Cole started to say, the last few words spoken just in the way Anarion did. Surprised, she turned to him.

He continued in the wizened voice of Deshanna. "She left for a while, do you remember? And when she returns, she will have gathered all new stories and can tell you of all the things she has seen. Aren't you excited to hear them?"

Cole switched back to the high-pitched voice of Anarion. "Yes. I want to hear. Perhaps she met a real knight! Or talked to a King. Perhaps she danced with a King!"

He switched to Deshanna. "It would be so interesting to learn everything she has learned, wouldn't it? I hope, wherever she is now, she is happy."

Anarion spoke next. "But I wish she was here. She makes the lightning less scary."

"If you are scared, focus on your surroundings," Cole finished as Deshanna again, the last words a mantra that had engraved itself in Ennaly's mind. How often had she heard those words? "They were excited to hear your stories. You are not betraying them. They didn't know better. You didn't know better either, once."

"Thank you," Ennaly said quietly, wiping away a tear that ran down her cheek. Perhaps Cole was right. But it's not so easy to reason yourself out of dark thoughts, even if you know they are irrational.

Solas pulled her against him, and silently they watched the sea.

"When the world around you changes, your views change," Solas said, not looking at her, but still gazing into the distance. "Not always to what you expect or wish."

Ennaly peered at him while he was still looking out over the sea. It was strange how the breeze played with her, tugged on loose hair, at the fabric of her clothing, but with Solas' well-fitted outfit and lack of hair, it seemed like the wind had no effect on him, like he was immutable.

You change everything, Solas had whispered to her, that night in the Dales, before he had pinned her to a tree. Had she changed his perspective?

"Have your views changed that often?" she asked quietly.

Solas turned to her, a mournful smile on his lips. "Over the course of my life? Several times," he replied with ill-disguised bitterness. "But some things never change. Those ideals that are important to you."

"And those are?"

"Helping the helpless and hurt," Cole provided, giving his answer.

"The inherit right of all free willed people to exist," Solas replied and briefly cupped her face, trailing a thumb over her cheek.

She thought about that for a while. "I consider those admirable ideas, and I agree with both," she said, leaning on Solas' shoulder while she held Cole's hand. "Solas, you once said to me that without nurture, wisdom grows stale. Perhaps that is what the Dalish have been missing. A lack of fertile soil for wisdom to flourish. I might still be able to help, in my ways."

Fertile soil.

She wasn't sure if that was the best analogy. She was the last Lavellan, and that legacy would end with her.

But she had access now that no Dalish had before, to books and even Solas' knowledge. She was navigating the world of Humans, and while it was certainly far from perfect, it wasn't all bad. She could help in new ways. She wouldn't forget. Keepers of the lost lore, and never again shall we submit. She just had to apply those ideals in new ways now.

Content with that resolution, she gazed out over the far horizon.

She remembered the first time she had ever seen the sea, when she was barely a teenager. The sight had awed her, the endless distance, the briny breeze tugging at her hair. That second night, there had been a thunderstorm, and she had felt so small and insignificant in the face of the raw power, that she decided lightning would be her magical focus.

"There is one thing sure," she said. "And that is that there can hardly be a more beautiful place for my family and friends to rest."

And for the last time that night, she started to sob.