Note: This fic is my love letter to DAI. I am so grateful to the fanfic community for devoting their time and creativity to stories that we can all enjoy. I really wanted to see a Solavellan Fic that did not include a pregnancy plotline, so here is my attempt. I was so inspired by my favorite fics "Lover's Knot: Unraveled Entangled" by VoiDreamer, "The Pain of Rifts" by WordsinRain, "Pride (Didn't) Go Before the Fall" by Skilyn, and bdafic's entire collection of DAI stories. Seriously, go read those and then come back to this one because THEY'RE SO GOOD and all of those authors are incredibly talented.I'm going to try keeping the tempo of this story pretty fast so that it doesn't end up being 20+ chapters. I just need a quick creative project since I'm between jobs, which is a more accurate way to describe being a teacher on summer vacation. Did y'all know that they take away money from our paychecks throughout the year to pay us during the summer? Because I SURE DIDN'T. I'll still take the break though. I do not own any DAI content or content from the Wiki. Some descriptions/phrasing in this chapter is taken directly from the Trespasser Epilogue for continuity. Info about Dalish gods, customs, and clans was taken from the Wiki and Sera's riddle was inspired by Reddit user ostrichlittledungeon.

The crisp night air captures Ellana's breath in clouds as she creeps through the dark forest. The soft crushing of leaves under her boots interrupts the silence of the Free Marches. She does not feel alone, despite being accompanied by no one. What am I looking for? Ellanna frowns. She can't remember why she is here. She had not returned to her clan's roaming lands in years. Since before the explosion at the Conclave. Before being branded by the anchor. Before enlisting allies - soon to become her closest friends. Before confronting Corypheus.

Before him.

She rests her hand on a nearby tree. The bark should feel smooth and cool but instead it buzzes with warm magic. This is the fade. Ellana is searching for her people's trickster, the Dred Wolf. Fen'Harel. She has felt his presence in her sleep ever since the Battle of the Crossroads. At least, she thinks it is his presence. She scans the tree line for sad eyes watching her across an endless distance. No one. Just a dream, she tells herself.

She closes her eyes and wills her mind to wake up, or visit another memory within the fade, or do anything but this. Her bitter thoughts battle a hopeful heart. When she opens them again, she sees that her heart has won. She is still surrounded by the same lonesome trees. Every time she reaches for him, he vanishes. Why would he seek me out only to observe from afar? Why not try to speak with me? He has to know why I'm here. A twig snaps, disrupting the uneasy silence.

Ellana turns slowly towards the noise, "Is someone there?" The shadowy trees seem to go on forever. Could someone be hiding within?

"Please. Show yourself. You can trust me." Her voice echoes into the void. Still nothing. An icy gust of wind chills her to the bone. Ellana wraps an arm tightly around her chest and turns away from the doubtful sound. If someone is there, they have no intention of revealing themselves. This is just another wishful dream. Another lonely night spent waiting and searching for a way to change the Dread Wolf's heart.

"Inquisitor? Did you hear what the commander said?"

Josephine's expectant voice interrupts her recollections from the previous night. Ellana stands before her advisors, struggling to focus on duty while the dreamy forest remains fresh in her mind. She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to regain focus and composure.

"Um. About Divine Victoria's safe passage?"

"Yes, The Divine is seeking an audience with Duke Cyril de Montfort at the Chateau Haines. The Vimmark Mountains are a long way from Val Royeaux but we have plenty of soldiers and supplies to ensure she makes it there. The guards have already loaded most of what we need." Cullen waves his hand over the table-top map of Ferelden and Orlais, gesturing to the locations he speaks of. He adds, "with you and I as guides, we should be able to escort her without issues."

"I am still confused why Cassandra herself must attend. Wouldn't it be safer to send one of her advisors? Or, just us?"

"Well yes, it would certainly be safer." Leliana is perplexed. Her face displays a mix of concern and mild frustration at the Inquisitor's need for her to repeat herself. She continues, "Duke Cyril's council intends to address the Elven Rebellion. Needless to say, it is a matter of great importance and they are concerned that their messages could be intercepted."

"They plan to discuss mobilizing the Inquisition again." Josephine prompts next, "These decisions cannot be made in a single letter. Are you alright, Ellana? Does your…" the diplomat trails off, struggling to find the right words, "wound bother you?"

Her phantom limb is aching, but pain isn't the thing distracting Ellana from the morning briefing. The walls of Skyhold have felt different following the Exalted Council. The weight of obligation is heavier now. She's like a halla in a snare trap, dragged down by the organization she is supposed to lead.

She shakes her head, "I'm fine. Have we sent word to the Divine to confirm these plans?" Josephine nods. "Good. Then we'll prepare the soldiers to depart the day after tomorrow." Ellana glances at Leliana, "Any news about the deserters?"

Leliana frowns, "Unfortunately no. Elves all around Thedas are disappearing overnight. But it is still unclear where they are going or how they are being called to action."

"And the Dalish Clans? What of them?"

"Your people are not a monolith. Clan Lavellan supports us, of course, and Clan Ralaferin remains in close contact with humans. They will continue to side with the Chantry." Leliana pauses, considering her words carefully. "I sent two scouts to Sabre Clan after they failed to update us. I was expecting a raven with news two days ago, but it appears we have lost contact."

Not good. Ellana frowns, "The Sabre Clan established Dalish residence in the Dales after the fall of the Elhven Empire. Many of the lives lost in the Exalted Plains were Sabre."

Leliana sighs, "Correct. Their dealings with humans have always been… complicated. All things considered, it is wise to believe that they have joined the rebellion. I wish that I had more to share." She looks to the others as they nod in agreement.

No news of Solas. Again. The council adjourns and Ellana makes her way through the empty fortress to the training grounds. The Army of Fen'Harel was supposedly growing with each passing moment and yet, nothing. Not even a whisper from Leliana nor Varric's networks of spies regarding their whereabouts. It's maddening. Ellana's footsteps echo through the quiet halls. Skyhold has changed too much. Halls that once felt alive with hope and possibility descend further into decrepit silence each day. Especially with the absence of her companions and, more worryingly, the many elven servants, officers, and refugees who departed without warning. Thanks for the invitation, Solas.

She knows that joining his army is out of the question. After all, she doesn't even want to fight by his side. She knows this. Yet Ellana's pride continues to feel slighted by the exclusion. Foolish girl, she thinks to herself, You are the leader of the Inquisition, not some merchant guild. A bid for your support would alert the Chantry and surely lead to the end of the Rebellion. He may be arrogant but he's not stupid. It still stings. She doesn't agree with his methods, but the elves are her people too. It's hard not to feel like another piece of her culture is being lost in the wake of his mission.

She is grateful that the Skyhold courtyards still buzz with activity from merchants, healers, and soldiers. It isn't the same without Iron Bull's booming voice, but at least she's not alone out here. Ellana trots down the stairs and strides to a long weapons rack near the quartermaster's barn. She selects a short sword with a wide, triangular point and grips the hilt in her good hand. My only hand, she reminds herself wryly.

Bonding with the tools of the warrior has been… difficult. Her bow felt like a living extension of herself. By comparison, this sword seems to know it doesn't belong in the hand of a rogue. Ellana steadies herself and takes a wide swing at a training dummy. The blade connects with a thud and the force of her swing reverberates back up her arm in a sharp jolt. She recovers and draws the weapon back to a defensive stance. Too slow. Today's training goal is to execute a feinting attack that Rainer used in countless battles. Swing high at the face, counterclockwise flourish, and end with a thrust to the chest. The maneuver tricks enemies into defending their face and exposing a larger, more vulnerable target. The Grey Warden made it look so eloquent, like a dance. Yet Ellana is perpetually off-balance when she tries the combination. Swing high, flourish, thrust. Swing high, flourish - Oh! The tip of her sword suddenly glances off the dummy's shield and sends her sprawling forward into its support beam. No doubt she could have braced herself for the fall with both arms. But with her right one already extended, her left cheek slams into the wooden post. The momentum of her body tweaks her neck sideways and she lands on the cobblestones. The final insult to injury is the sword, which just so happens to land beneath her forearm. It bounces on the stones with a loud clatter, slicing her slightly.

"Fenedhis" She hisses and lifts her torso off the dusty stone floor.

"Inquisitor, are you hurt?"

Ellana looks up at Cullen. He is extending a hand towards her. She grasps it firmly and allows him to help her to her feet.

"I don't understand why I haven't figured this out yet." She snaps, "I've been practicing with every sort of sword, mace, and battle ax and I'm still completely abysmal."

As she dusts the dirt off her trousers, her commander leans down to retrieve the blood smeared sword. "Impossible, you've improved in leaps and bounds since we started training. See, you've even managed to draw blood." He smiles slyly.

"Yes, my own you bastard." She snatches the sword back and stalks to a nearby trough of rainwater. She dunks and swishes it around until the red streaks vanish from the blade. Her reflection glares at her through the disturbed surface of the water. Her face is flushed and there's a rising lump under her left eye. Ellana has conflicting feelings about the vallaslin, but it would be nice to have something to conceal the angry welt.

Cullen seems to know what she's thinking, "Nevermind that, every good soldier needs their battle scars."

"Commander, would you like to explain how scars can possibly demonstrate that a soldier is good at fighting?"

"Of course." He chuckles, tapping a finger against the thin line above his lip, "you see, they're not scars unless they heal. A soldier without scars is a soldier who doesn't make it back home."

"Thanks, I'll remember that when I'm bleeding out beneath another unarmed, immobile target." She tosses the offending sword back onto the weapons rack with a sneer. "Admit it, I'm hopeless."

He laughs. "No, I refuse to believe you're incapable." He's genuine, but there's something else in that laugh. Is he mocking me?

"Cullen, I've just told you that nothing works for me! I'm too clumsy now."

"And yet I see you jump down the battlements unscathed all the time because you're too impatient for stairs." Yep. Definitely mocking.

"That's… different! My legs work fine. Listen, I know what it feels like to be a good fighter. I fought with daggers before, but without dual wielding I can't parry and attack at the same time. Which means I lose in a fight against any half-decent opponent."

He turns to the weapons rack. "Exactly. Your instincts are strong. You have the same knowledge and skills that you had before. The only difference is that you have a unique set of challenges to navigate now." He selects a sword with a narrow tapered point and offers it to her. This one is lighter than the previous weapon, but still foreign in her grasp. "Anyone can wield a sword in one hand. The arm is not the issue, Inquisitor, you need to think differently."

"I find that extremely condescend- Oh Andraste's Ass!" She yelps as Cullen seizes another sword and swings towards her. Just in time, she tips the point of her blade down and raises the hilt to block his blow. A metallic clang reverberates throughout the courtyard.

"You and I both know that your biggest obstacle is self-inflicted."

True. She lacks confidence, not skill with any weapon. But confidence cannot be taught, a sullen voice whines inside her.

Cullen steps back and their swords slide apart with a loud scrape. He softens a bit, "Ellana, you know that I care for you. We all do. We understand that you've lost more than any of us in the past weeks." He looks at her pointedly, "you cannot allow pain to distract you in this critical moment. If Solas does not yield, Cassandra will have no choice but to declare war against the rebels. You will be the one to lead us."

I can't! She wants to shout, but she stays quiet. He's right. She's still the Inquisitor. The shift from military power to 'peacekeeping' means nothing now. As the personal honor guard of the Divine, her soldiers will surely be deployed to defend Thedas. Cullen's eyes flick from her face to somewhere behind her shoulder. She turns.

"Letters for you, Ser." A corrier extends a small stack of papers towards Ellana. She utters thanks and passes the sword back to Cullen. Ellana wrote to Varric in preparation for her trip North. The stack contains his reply as well as a stained note from Sera, and a letter from her Keeper Deshanna. They were already open, per Leliana's request to review all messages in and out of Skyhold.

"I suppose we can revisit this topic at a later time." Cullen sets both swords carefully back on the weapons rack.

"No need. The Divine will have my full support at the Duke's council, and that's the end of it." Ellana turns away from her general before he can respond. As much as she wants to put him at ease, there's nothing else to say. Of course they're worried. I let Solas escape the Eluvian when it was just him. There won't be another chance like that. Not with the army. She walks back up the stone steps to the main hall, tucking Varric and her Keeper's letters up and under her left triceps. Sera's messages are always amusing. This one looks like it was scrawled on a discarded menu. Crude doodles border the flowing script.

If you're a tike you know me well, and when you're old I'll be your hell. I'm often felt but never shown and I'll drive you mad when we're alone. What am I?

She flips the letter over.

BOREDOM. I'm still in Redcliffe waiting for Droopy's goons to brainwash me. There's fuck all to do here 'cept watch sheep. Can't believe I'm getting tired of drinking and acting depressed. If that Blunderbluss thinks I'm not good enough for his stinking rebellion, he's got a prayer.

Ellana smiles. Deeply relatable, Sera.

Maybe I'll write "HUMANS KICK ROCKS" on my forehead and tell the barkeep it's a Dalish tat from "Clan Murderdaworld." Then I'll be the perfect Elfy-Elf candidate for that old egg's stupid army.

- Sera

Letters are a nice distraction from the impossible choices waiting in the War Room. Ellana swaps the crumpled paper for Varric's message as she strides past the neglected Inquisition throne and walks up the narrow staircase to her quarters.

Dear Ellie,

Pleasure first, then business. I've got a present waiting for you in Kirkwall. I'm still not interested in making contact with the Merchant's Guild so it took me a while to find the right artificer, but I think you're going to love it! I'm looking forward to seeing you on your way back from the Vimmarks.

We've been combing through all the old ruins from Solas's research. I sent a few of my people back to the Arbor Wilds to scout the Temple of Mythal. We found Dalish camp supplies that weren't there when the Inquisition investigated the Well of Sorrows. We're not sure who was poking around down there yet, but it's promising. I told my agents to send word directly to Skyhold if they find out more. Don't give up hope Ellie, we haven't lost Chuckles yet.

See you soon,
Varric

She's grateful for Varric in so many ways. Above all, Ellana appreciates his compassion when it comes to her former beloved. The others want to find Solas and wring his neck, but Varric refuses to believe their old friend is beyond saving. She sits down on the corner of the bed and unfolds the final letter.

Da'len

Aneth ara. It does my heart well to know that the Chantry is treating our kind with fairness. Your brothers and sisters await your call for aid. If you need us, we are with you.

Dareth shiral,
Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan

Strange. She expected to hear more from her Keeper, especially on the brink of a civil war. Deshanna considers their clan to be elite compared to other Dalish. Lavellan has a long tradition of collaborating with humans, rather than wanting nothing to do with them. Her clan's ambivalence towards the rising tension is surprising. The blood dampening her sleeve reminds her that the scratch needs tending. She deposits the letters next to her washbasin. It's empty. Ellana took responsibility for her own chores after her servant, a young Dalish girl named Adian, vanished a fortnight ago. She forgot to fill it this morning. She grabs the cloth from the vanity and heads back down the stairs to the rotunda. Leliana usually keeps a carafe of water for herself and occasional library patrons.

She tries not to pause when passing the bright frescoes that lined the bottom level. After Solas first disappeared she scoured his research and murals for a clue as to his whereabouts. It never amounted to anything. His paintings depict events of the past: the explosion at the Conclave, the formation of the Inquisition, the destruction of Haven, Adamant Keep, the Winter Palace, the Temple of Mythal, and the unfinished one. He started to paint a lone wolf observing a slain dragon. Wishful thinking before the final attack on Corypheus. The old library is all but empty now. Nothing but rows upon rows of dusty books and ravens in the rafters. Leliana is gone too. Probably consulting with Cullen about their leader's shame spiral. Ellana places the cloth on the corner of Leliana's table, lifts the heavy pitcher of water, and struggles to pour just the right amount so as not to make a mess. The sodden cloth slips off the edge of the table and lands on the floorboards with a soft plot.

Gods, I miss having two hands. Ellana thinks as she lowers herself to retrieve the cloth. Hmm. Under the table there is a scrap of paper peeking out from under a floorboard. It's not loose, so how did that get there? She tugs on the paper slightly, but it doesn't budge. Moving closer, she inspects the wooden plank and slides her nails in the cracks of the floor. A slight pry and the wood swings upwards. Hinges? There's a shallow compartment under Leliana's table. Inside, Ellana finds a stack of creased letters, a scroll, and a small wooden trinket on a leather cord. It's a June's Knot. A wooden logic puzzle named for the Dalish Goddess of Craftsmanship. They're given to young elves to occupy their time since they have no solution. As Ellana peers at the teeny-tiny acorn carvings in the wood, she realizes that this is her own childhood toy.

Why would Leliana have this? Ellana sets it aside and turns her attention to unraveling the scroll. It is a drawing of the Storm Coast with a few inky lines of poetry. She recognizes the Song of Andruil, a common prayer honoring the Goddess of the Hunt. The same goddess Ellana chose to honor when she received her vallaslin years ago.

Strange. She rifles through notes from - she inhales sharply - Keeper Deshanna?

"That can't be right," she mutters to herself as she scans the first letter.

Da'len

We are providing safe harbor to Clan Alerion. They arrived in sparse numbers this morning with many injuries. Their Keeper Marethari states that her people were ambushed by Venatori. The Tevinter Agents gave chase when her Clan fled and captured any who did not escape. Venatori usually seek to defend their territory and seize resources. To our knowledge, they have never taken prisoners. Clan Lavellan is safe for now but we must continue moving. Please send medical supplies and food South of Wycome.

Dareth shiral,
Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan

Dread rises in the pit of her stomach. She has never seen this letter. How has she never seen it? She flips to the next note.

Da'len

We seek aid from Ostwick but the humans are distrustful. Their minds are poisoned by rumors of an Elven insurrection in Ferelden. Clans Lavellan and Alerion are escaping the Free Marches by boat. It is the only way. Please redirect supplies and deliver funds to the South coast.

Ma halani
Deshanna

And the next.

Da'len

Two children were taken by Venatori invaders this morning. We are sending the fastest hunters ahead to secure safe passage across the Waking Sea. Our strongest warriors are turning back to pursue the abductors.

Deshanna

Until finally, a hastily scrawled note.

To the Keepers of Ellana Lavellan,

You repay our good deeds by allowing cries for help to go unanswered. If you hope to convince us that our daughter is being held with her consent, send word immediately. Our people are not your enemy, but we will allow no more children to be stolen from us. Na melana sahlin. Dirthara-ma.

Ellana sits on the floor of the library, stunned. When were these letters written?

Elvish Vocabulary:
Fenedhis - (common curse) dammit/fuck
Da'len - Child
Aneth ara - A sociable or friendly greeting, more commonly used among the Dalish themselves rather than with outsiders.
Dareth shiral - (farewell) safe journey
Ma halani - help me
Na melana sahlin - your time has come
Dirthara-ma - (common curse) may you learn