Midnight

Ennaly lay on the cold hard ground, staring up at the dark skies. The forest clearing around her was wrapped by a blanket of frost that rendered the mossy grass stone-like. Above her, the tops of trees were visible just at the edges of her vision. It wasn't a starry night-sky that stretched out above her, but the swirling green hues of the Fade.

She could feel, rather than see, the demons that surrounded her. Cold breath on her skin, an eerie rustling in the leaves, shadows sweeping through the clearing.

Despair loomed above her as an intense cold froze her bones, and it claimed that Solas had never loved her. Because if he had, how could he leave her like this in this crucial moment, while they still had to face Corypheus, when she still needed the strength to continue fighting? Love was an illusion, like Anarel's affection had been, and if she ever found another man who would take her, he'd just spin new lies to her, hurt her again in different ways.

The cold embrace scorched as Anger drew closer and the frozen ground melted, promising her revenge. How dare Solas leave her like this? Was she nothing more than a pawn to him? Had he only ever taught her how to Fade-step to ensure she had a way of returning to the castle after he cruelly discarded her? The flames of vengeance flickered in her heart. He deserved retribution for how he treated her.

The breath in her lungs turned cold nor hot but solid, overwhelming, keeping her pressed on the ground, unable to lift so much as a finger, as Terror hissed that she'd die alone. Solas didn't care that she was here, surrounded by demons that fought to possess her body the moment she showed weakness. She would become an abomination, and perhaps he would be the one to slay her. He was better than her, after all. A better mage, a better Elf.

As sudden as it came, so sudden did it leave and Ennaly took a breath of fresh air, laced with the scents of spring flowers and memories of an unburdened childhood. A sweet voice cooed at her and Desire whispered that he still wanted her, if only she reached out. He was at arm's reach. Couldn't she see him, standing near, smiling at her lovingly? If she just accepted it, his arms would enclose her once more and the world would fall in its place again. Was that not what she wanted?

Pride was absent. Because that was him, wasn't it? The Solas that was so close to her was nothing more than Desire's illusion. Pride had left her, reducing her to a shell of the person she once was. She had no clan, nothing to mark her as the Dalish she once was. Her entire life was laced with lies. The Dalish lived an ignorant fairytale, and Solas, pride, had ripped it away from her. She had no love, only the burden of the Inquisition to carry.

She wondered which of the demons would get to her first, for she knew she wasn't able to keep ignoring them. She wasn't strong, and sooner or later, she would fall to one of them. And if that was inevitable, why prolong her suffering? She might as well choose her own end.

Anger or desire, what did she prefer? After living in lies, she didn't want to end in yet another, did she? Bitter truth was better than blissful ignorance. Anger it was.

Her left hand flared and panic flooded the emptiness of emotions inside her. She couldn't die. She was the one carrying the Anchor, and it was still needed. Rifts remained that had to be closed, and she still had to utilise the Well's power to learn how to combat Corypheus.

But she found that her body didn't react to her commands. She wanted to sit up, to defend herself from the demons, but her arm would not raise. Not even her finger wanted to twitch.

It seemed that even a wish to fight was futile.

Focus on your surroundings, her late Keeper always said.

It took everything left in her to close her eyes and perform the simple task that usually came as natural as breathing. A rustle of leaves, heavy breath, snarling, and a sense of power.

But it wasn't of any demon.

She found that she could move again and sat up, expecting the see demons pressing in on her, but the clearing was almost deserted.

Almost.

She turned around where she sat and met a sight that might as well have been conjured by a terror demon. A large white wolf stood at the edge of the clearing, snarling and chasing away a wailing despair demon.

And then it was just them. Ennaly and the wolf.

She had seen him before, but even if that was a long time ago, his name had been on her lips and her mind many times since, combined with either fear or confusion.

He turned around to look at her, devoid of expression, at the edge of the clearing. Carefully, Ennaly rose to her feet, the wolf following her every move. Fear and confusion were absent in her now, exhausted by the influence of the demons, and only curiosity remained behind.

Cautiously, she took a step closer.

The wolf averted its gaze and turned around, but paused his intended retreat as Ennaly started to speak.

"Don't leave," she called out, and this time the wolf kept his place as she took a step closer. "You are him, aren't you?"

After a moment of prolonged contemplation, the wolf turned his head around and took three steps closer to her. His massive size came looming over her, the size of a large horse rather than a normal wolf. He wasn't making any sound, no growling or howling, and everything in his posture spoke of power and intelligence. Something in his gaze seemed to command her to say my name.

"You are Fen'Harel," she whispered, strangely aware of her absence of fear.

I am.

The voice came from around her, echoing on the trees, and she turned around expecting a pack of wolves, but there was still only one, his jaw unmoving, his voice sourceless. It was unlike the voices from the Well, that whispered from within her mind, for these words were external and had some physicality to them, like she could reach out and hold onto them.

"Why are you here?" she called out. "The demons... Why would you save me?"

There was no reply and no movement from the God looking down at her. Or… Were there even Gods?

"You came to me before, in Haven."

I did.

"And for some reason, you spoke to Anarel after he attacked me, months ago."

That too, I did.

She wanted to ask why for both of those statements, but she knew the answer already. She'd known for such a long time that the realisation didn't imbue any fear, just a clarity of truth. She raised her left hand in front of her, the light of the Anchor illuminating the wolf's fur in green. "This is yours."

It is.

She laughed faintly. "And I was never meant to have it."

You were not.

The echoes of the last word almost sounded mournful.

She laughed again, spun a circle at this unexpected confession, paused, and sought his gaze. He was observing her with a strange curiosity. The realisation grew as she started talking again, like the words only revealed themselves one at a time. "And now you are... protecting me? Because... you need to get your orb back, and with it, you might be able to accomplish what Corypheus could not, and that is to take this power back?"

Nothing in the wolf seemed to either agree or disagree with her statement, but she was familiar with someone else who preferred silence over a painful truth or misplaced lie. And he, too…

"You are not the first to want this orb. Solas..."

But by mentioning that name, the first drop of emotion stirred the surface of emptiness inside her, rippling outwards, threatening to overwhelm her. And now that the surface was disturbed, other emotions followed. Anger at the tear that ran over her cheek. Self-pity for her heartache. Regret for what she had lost.

She was crying in front of a God. Displaying weakness was foolish, and she hadn't been surprised if he would lash out in fury. For the first time after seeing the wolf, fear mixed into her despair. She wanted to curse, but all the curses currently on her mind were so very inappropriate. By the Dread Wolf! Fenhedis! Certainly one would be foolish to utter either of those in the presence of Fen'Harel.

Biting back sobs, she gathered strength to look up, prepared to flee. But the wolf didn't look at her in anger. Instead, it lowered its head, ears to the side, and took a careful step closer.

Emotions started to fill the clearing again. Not just Ennaly's, but dark, whispering ones, those that fed on weakness. Shadows floated between the trees, preying upon her, searching for the moment to strike. The wolf growled low, fangs bared, and started to pace in a protective circle around her. Despair grouped closer, whispering in their minds.

Why resist when there was no more hope?

A force pressed upon Ennaly's shoulders and she watched, immobile, as the first demon leapt into the clearing.

But Despair was lying. Hope hadn't left her. She wasn't alone. She had Dorian, Cole, Varric, and all the others who cared for her, and she cared for them. Ennaly steadied herself. She had done this before, collected herself in times when emotions raged through her, and she could do it again.

Before the wolf could attack the demons, she focussed her will and held her hands together to collect the threads of energy from her surroundings. Sparks gathered between her fingers, faint at first but growing, shards of chaos, of entropy, of raw magical potential.

Straining, she raised her hands high above her head, holding on just a few more seconds, collecting just a bit more power.

There was a split second of peace, of certainty, of confidence in herself.

Then, almost effortlessly, she released her hold. The ball of energy sundered with a blinding force, lighting arching out from her like the spokes in a wagon wheel, thundering and rushing through the grass, spreading outwards, to the demons that came praying upon her heartache. The impact was blinding, and with desperate shrieks, they fled.

Silence returned to the clearing and only her panting pierced it, their surroundings once again devoid of Despair, devoid of Fear.

Exhausted after her strain, Ennaly fell to her knees and willed herself to calm down, to take deep breaths.

She jerked up as she could feel the wolf approaching. "I can still defend myself," she uttered through clenched teeth. The wolf just looked at her, and after moments of eye contact, he resumed his pacing. The whispers that followed were more curious than threatening.

Are you not afraid of me?

Ennaly pondered her answer. Again, she found that the sight of the Dread Wolf didn't fill her with fear. "Should I be?" she asked carefully while taking a step back, as her muscles started to tense. The wolf had a strong aura, stronger than any she had felt before. "I can feel your power. I know you can kill me if that is what you want. I do not fear my life. I only fear for those around me."

You made a promise to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

How did he know all of this? Had he known, because that promise was attached to her sylvanwood ring that depicted him? It burned hot around her finger, despite it being wood.

"What are you?" she begged. "Are you a God?"

What is a God? I am powerful, yes, and I am old, but does that make me a God? You might consider me one, but does that make it true? I have nothing to prove.

It was the same non-answer she heard before. "So you don't consider yourself a God?" she continued, still a plea for understanding. "The Dalish do. They claim you are the God of betrayal. But I also read that you might be the God of rebellion. What are you?"

If I am the God of betrayal, if I am a trickster, would it not be easy for me to lie and say I am not? I cannot vouch for myself. You would not believe my answer.

"And you decide that for me?" she said, almost with a scoff, but God or no, she knew it was foolish to try and argue. And besides, she had more questions. "In the temple of Mythal… Abelas said you had nothing to do with her murder. But... murder? The legends say nothing about a murder."

He was right. Mythal was murdered, and not by my hand.

His tone was angry and mournful.

"Then, what happened to her? You locked them away, the other Gods. Why?"

Because of great injustice. That is all I will say.

His red eyes gazed at hers as Ennaly's frustration grew. "So you don't deny it? You tell me only half-truths, and yet you expect me to retrieve your orb? What if I refuse?"

Even with her frustration, the wolf remained calm.

You are brave. You have always been brave. Brave enough to stand up to your God of betrayal. I respect you for your indomitable spirit.

Ennaly stared at the wolf. He was not the first one to say that to her. Solas had said it to her, yesterday. She had confessed to him once about being scared at Fen'Harel, weeks ago at the summer solstice, and he had said he would stand up to anything for her. She'd said she didn't think he could stand up to a God, this God.

But instead, he had taken her Vallaslin and left her.

He had actually left her.

Another sob escaped her and she turned around, embarrassed. But now, she could no longer stop. No more demons dared enter their clearing, and she could finally give in to her emotions. Shaking with sobs, she lowered herself to the ground before her knees would give in.

Solas had left her. With him, something was taken from her. She could never return to the safe comfort of his arms, never have him whisper his reassurances to her, or help her to keep her focus. He stepped away from her. Had he actually given her a reason?

He must simply have stopped loving her.

How could she gather the strength to keep going, to stay strong and be this person that people believed in? She was nothing without the people surrounding her, and if they left...

Ennaly had nearly forgotten about the wolf that still roamed around, and she startled when it entered her vision. For a moment, fear gripped her, but against everything she had expected, he sat down next to her and lowered his head onto his paws.

"Does it get better?" she begged through her tears, facing the wolf. "Heartache, I mean. I thought he loved me, I really did. I certainly loved him. I don't understand... I must have done something wrong. I thought, after the Well –"

You did nothing wrong.

Taken aback, Ennaly looked up at the wolf. Was he actually offering reassurances to her? His voice was both heated and mournful and his head jerked up to face hers. She had never known that a wolf's face could carry emotions like this.

She sniffled and wiped away some tears. "You have been alive a long time. You must have experienced everything. How do you heal from this? People expect so much of me. How do you stay strong?"

He looked at her mournfully.

Focus on your promise. I know you can. You are a remarkable strong person, Ennaly.

He said her name. The Dread Wolf had spoken her name. If the Dalish knew she carried his power, that she had spoken to him, that he... what, consoled her? She'd be forever shunned.

Bitterly, she stifled a small laugh.

This situation was absurd. "I am crying tears of heartache in the presence of a God," she stated. "I don't know if you're real or if I'm just making you up. The latter seems more plausible."

Curious now, she got to her feet. The wolf lifted its head, suddenly focused. Cautiously, unsure what would happen, Ennaly took a careful step to close the distance between them. With responding apprehension, the wolf rose as well, looming over her.

He regarded her with almost fearful fascination as she lifted her hand, reached out to the wolf, and buried it in the long fur of his neck.

There was a low whimper, so small she could have imagined it. The fur was warm and surprisingly soft, and still, she wasn't afraid.

Was this truly Fen'Harel? Certainly, it couldn't be. If it was, he would never console her, never allow her to touch him. She drew nearer, wanting to bury her head in the fur. The wolf realised what she intended to do, and took a hurried step back, almost alarmed.

Perhaps it is time for you to wake up, vhenan.

But that last word could not have been there. It must have been an echo she imagined out of heartache. Perhaps a desire demon was on the hunt nearby? Or perhaps this was just a normal dream after all.

It mattered not, for with her next breath, Ennaly opened her eyes and found herself on the rocky floor in the ruined garden, all alone, gasping cold mountain air.

She remained on the stone floor until her breath calmed down, unsure if what she had just witnessed had been real or figments of her imagination. Neither of those explanations made any sense, but… what had it been then?

Feeling a shiver pass over her body, she got to her feet. With the time past midnight, it was cold here this high in the mountains, with a cold breeze surging through the incline. The moons provided quite some light, but it wasn't strong enough to illuminate the garden. Ennaly knew there was a torch bracket nearby and she lit the Veilfire.

Green light flooded into the garden and distorted the colours around it. The once-purple wolfsbane appeared blue, while the foliage around only appeared more verdant. Ennaly kept staring at the flowers, unsure what she thought about the symbolism.

Cuddling her arms around herself, she stepped to the edge of the garden to overlook the mountains. Something was... off. Even in the light of the moons, the mountains felt cold, inhospitable, while before they had been beautiful and serene, similar to the distorted colours in the garden. But the moons didn't cast green light.

A sudden panic rang through her body and Ennaly gasped another lungful of cold air. Her fingers shaking, she reached for her cheeks. They must be…

But she couldn't see, and still in her panic, she found a flat rock and cast a frost spell on it, so overpowered in her fright that it cracked. The ice held the two halves together and the smooth surface reflected her face, fully bared and cleansed from the purple lines.

It was no surprise the mountains looked off. For half of her life, there had been a purple shadow below her eyes, transforming every sight she saw with a warming glow. She remembered how strange it had been when she'd just received the Vallaslin and the pain had faded away. Everything had felt warm and vibrant with the purple shade ever-present in her vision, and now that it was gone, she would have to get used again to a bleak, colder world.

Desiring a better view of herself, she cast a spell to conjure a ball of pure white light. It seemed that what she thought she had seen, was no trick from the Veilfire. The wolfsbane around her turned purple again in the white light, but her eyes…

They still looked mostly blue. The purple below them had once accentuated the same shade in her eyes, and in their absence, the purple was reduced almost to a suggestion. Her eyes had turned from twilight to midnight, her best feature diminished.

You are so beautiful, Solas had said to her as he gazed at her bare face, after he had cast his spell. Had he meant it?

Her hands still shaking, she untied the belts at her waist and pulled the tunic over her head in a rough move. When she pulled down the wrappings over her breast and her shift, she could see it. Her breasts were bare, undecorated. Ignoring the cold, she lowered the edge of her breeches, pulled up her shift and… Bare skin, the palm-sized burn scar the only indication where the end of the lines had once been.

She remained staring down for an uncertain amount of time when…

A small laugh escaped her, and she was surprised to find that it was relief.

She was freed from the reminder of an unfulfilled wish, freed from the reminder of years of hurt, of month after month realising no child had taken seed within her.

And the lines on her face? She didn't regret her choice. After what Solas told her, she couldn't keep them, a constant reminder of this disillusionment that was her past.

Even if she hadn't carried Fen'Harel's power on her palm, the Dalish would scorn her for removing what they took pride in. They wouldn't understand. Some truths couldn't be told, only experienced.

Fen'Harel - had it really been him? - told her to focus on her promise. And perhaps that was the best advice she could have right now. She stared at the ring on her finger depicting the wolf's head, on the same hand that carried his power. There was nothing left of the First she'd been a year ago, but she had already grown into her new identity.

Inquisitor.

Perhaps that was all she needed to be.

She sat in silence for just a few more seconds before she rose, resolutely. The ball of light followed her around, a companion on her otherwise lone track back up the mountain, Fade-stepping as Solas had thought her, once upon a time while they danced around in the forest.

And they never would again.

The heart of night was normally the quietest time in Skyhold, too late for the night owls and too early for the early birds, yet when Ennaly Fade-stepped to the battlements, she found that she was not alone. A familiar horned figure walked on the battlements with weird lunging steps.

"Bull?" she asked as the figure was close enough to hear her words.

Having recognised her already, he closed the remaining distance between them with normal steps. "Hi Boss," he replied, his tone casual. "You're up late."

"So are you." Her voice felt odd, normal, like the world around her hadn't just changed.

Bull stretched his muscles and took a deep, calming breath. "Just a night-time workout. Couldn't sleep but didn't want to wake Dorian, you see. He is a light sleeper."

A wave of melancholy washed over Ennaly and she struggled to find words to reply. She swallowed back a sudden lump in her throat.

"Boss, are you alright?" Bull asked as he stepped closer to her, observing her shrewdly. "You didn't play around with that Orlesian make-up, did you? Your Elven... Vallaslin, was it? It's gone."

And with his words, the first tear started to roll down her cheek, where once her Vallaslin had been.

"Hey now, Ennaly, it is okay," Bull said in a comforting voice, stepping closer. "Do you need a hug? I happen to give damn good hugs."

She nodded, afraid that speaking would only increase her tears, and Bull scooped her up. He wasn't wrong. He did give pretty good hugs. She was tiny in the embrace, covered by arms that were wider than her waist, and she felt comfortable enough to cry. Trying to resist it would have been futile anyway.

"Thank you," she said when her tears stopped flowing and she gently extricated herself from Bull.

"Do you want to talk about it? If we walk a little bit, we'll have a fantastic view over the valley."

Ennaly followed him to a spot on the battlements that granted a wide view over Skyhold's valley, the river shimmering in the moonlight. Usually, the Inquisition's soldier tents were propped up on its banks, lit by flickering specs of campfires, but it was eerily empty now most of them were still in the Arbor Wilds.

They remained watching in silence for a while before Ennaly climbed up to sit between the merlons and leaned against the cold stone. She turned to look at Bull, leaning against the merlon next to her. "How are you holding up?" she asked quietly. "No longer being part of the Qun."

Bull peered at her. He was always good at reading people, and right now, she knew he was reading her. "Truth be told, I had left the Qun long before the incident on the Storm Coast. It just took me that long to understand who I actually was."

Ennaly remained silent, contemplating his words. Bull kept his eye on her, even if she was staring at her dangling toes. After several seconds of silence, Bull continued. "It gave me some consolation, knowing that it was long since coming. That event just made it official. Tal'Va-fucking-shoth."

She looked up, his face still the same as the first time she met him, fighting on the beach. "You are still you. The Iron Bull. And physically, you still look the same."

He barked a laugh. "To the Fade with physicality. The Qun still recognises me as Tal'Vashoth no matter how I dress. No matter what is on my face. I once considered Tal'Vashoth bandits, murderers, and bastards, and now I'm one of them."

"You're a good man, Bull."

He sighed. "Thank you. But I believe it's rather different for you."

Ennaly silently met his gaze.

"What made you Dalish?" he continued. "Was it just those lines on your face? Or was it a lifestyle and creed? Isn't it all about what you feel, and not how you look like? Varric looks like a Dwarf but despises Dwarfiness. Dorian left Tevinter, but he still looks Vint. He still cares, perhaps a little too much, even if he doesn't agree. He wants to change things, though. He got all excited about it, this morning." He sighed thoughtfully, and peered at Ennaly again. "Only you know what being Dalish – or not being Dalish – means to you."

She considered the words carefully. "But the Dalish might see it differently, and judge me purely based on my appearance. They'll consider me like a deserter."

"And how do you consider them?"

She hadn't quite put that to thought.

Hadn't she already felt detached from them at the summer solstice? At that time, the lines of her Vallaslin still decorated her body. Her own clan was gone, and she could never imagine herself living in another one. But if her clan had been there? Could she have gone back? Would they have accepted her back?

The truths she had learned since were not something you could tell, they had to be felt. Nobody would believe it. Wasn't that what Solas' experience had been with the Dalish, before he joined the Inquisition? She might have been born Dalish, but would they accept what she learned, now that her face was bare?

They lived in ignorant bliss, ignorant pride, like she, once. She couldn't blame them for lacking knowledge they had no means to obtain. She hadn't known better once, either.

They. Not we.

Her perception had been shifting for some time now.

And she understood Bull. It wasn't simply this moment, this one act of the removal of her Vallaslin, that made her doubt everything, that made her exclude herself from the Dalish. It just took her this long to understand the truth of it.

With a faint smile, she looked up to the tall horned face. "Thank you, Bull," she said and she meant it.

He gave her a smile back and didn't seem to need further explanation. "No worries. You are a good one too, Boss. You care. The good ones always care."

They sat in silence for the longest moment yet.

"Solas took them away," Ennaly confessed after a while.

Bull hardly shifted as he replied, a subtle edge now present in his tone. "I had a feeling he had something to do with it. Did he... force it?"

Ennaly stared at her toes again. "No," she whispered. "He just explained what they were, and then offered... I wanted them gone."

"Are you doubting your decision now?"

She swallowed. "No. That is not what I regret."

Silence. "Do you want me to hit Solas for you?"

"What?" She looked up, not understanding what Bull meant.

He grinned, but it lacked his usual mirth. "I might not be Ben-Hassrath any longer, but I still have the skills of one. I'm sorry, Ennaly. You here, at this time of night, with something Elfy going on, and him not being there... I can add the signs."

She felt her lip quiver. "He didn't even give a reason. He just said he couldn't. He said all those sweet words to me, and we kissed, and then he just... jerked away and left."

Bull sighed. "What is it with that Elf? My offer stands if you want me to hit some sense in him."

A small laugh escaped her lips, but it didn't remove her urge to cry. New tears streamed over her cheeks as she looked up at the skies. "I loved him," she sobbed. "I really thought he loved me too."

It puzzled her. One of the only things she had been certain about, was their love for each other. She must have been a fool not to realise that fantasy sooner.

"Hmm..." Bull grunted, displeased. "He did act like an ass, that's for sure. But I don't think – Hmm..." He looked up to her. "Do you want to go and pester Dorian? We have a comfortable sofa in our room. You can sleep there. It'll be like camping?"

"I'd like that," Ennaly replied with a faint smile. Anything was better than being alone now, and she could really do with seeing Dorian.

She followed Bull silently to his quarters. Quietly, he opened the door and stepped inside to see Dorian face down on the bed and sprawled out like a starfish, as naked as could be.

Bull cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right. Turn around, Boss, I've got this."

Ennaly stared at the wall as Bull approached the bed. "Kadan," he whispered.

"Amatus," came the sleepy reply.

The endearments almost caused Ennaly to tear up again, as she realised that the word vhenan would never again cross Solas' lips. She tried to tune out their loving banter, not wanting to eavesdrop. She heard Bull say Solas, and then her own name.

"I'm naked," came Dorian's loud shout and from the sound of it, he had rolled over, got tangled in the bedsheets, and rolled on the floor. Several huffs later, footsteps approached and Ennaly turned around to find Dorian wrapped in a green velvet robe. "Ennaly!" he said jovially, before he gasped audibly upon seeing her bare face. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and leaned closer. "Am I still dreaming?"

"No," she muttered, her voice small, and her body decided it wasn't done yet crying for the night.

"I'm an insensitive bastard, aren't I?" Dorian said in a soothing voice as he scooped up Ennaly and sat down together on the chaise-longue. "I said it months ago. If he hurt you, I will murder that Elf."

"No," she replied quietly as she rested her head on Dorian's shoulder. "He didn't hurt me. Well, not physically. I asked for this, Dorian. He didn't force anything."

"After all you went through, he just decided to end it, now? After he – after he did that? He's a little kaffas, that's what he is."

"A bit of an ass, yeah."

"Oh Ennaly dear, you deserve better," Dorian said before he pulled her in a tight embrace.

"I have all of you, don't I?"

"Yeah…" Dorian said carefully as he looked up to Bull.

Ennaly straightened herself and connected a few dots in her mind. "Bull said you got excited about change for Tevinter."

"I did say that," Dorian agreed reluctantly.

"You plan to go back," Ennaly said, filling in the unsaid words.

Dorian changed his position so he could face Ennaly. "I would never leave while you are hurting. And I would wait until all of this is over… But if it is, and we win, I should go back, shouldn't I? All my talk of how terribly wrong things are back home, but what do I do about it? Nothing."

He eyed Bull, who gave him an encouraging nod. "You've all made me think. How different things are here, and my interactions with you, Solas, Fenris, Briala. And then all we learned in the Arbor Wilds… Tevinter should confront the legacy hanging over us like a shroud. You're shaping the world… for good, mostly. How could I aspire to do any less?"

Ennaly wiped away her tears and smiled at him. Her heart ached at the thought of Dorian leaving, but she did know that he could be a force of change for his homeland, and she could only support him in that. "If there is somebody who could transform Tevinter, you can. I don't want to see you go, but you could do great things."

"Knew Vints would go about breaking hearts," Bull joked, but Ennaly was sure he was using his skills to hide his hurt.

Dorian scoffed. "This is both of your fault, remember. You inspired me with your marvellous antics. But you won't get rid of me this soon. It might be years, still." He sighed dramatically. "But enough about me, for once. Ennaly, how are you? Do you want to cry some more?"

She smiled faintly. She might finally be done crying, at least for this night, but there was still comfort in being in the company of friends, for as long as they were still with her.