"That's the last of them ready to head out."
"Thank your Maker."
Cullen huffs a laugh, shifting in saddle as his mare kicks excitedly at the dirt. "I'll see them to the crossroads and then return."
"If you lost Marquis Vandive along the way, I would consider that an acceptable wedding gift."
"I'll see what I can do." He gives her a nod. "By your leave."
"You know you don't have to do that anymore."
"Old habits, I suppose."
She inclines her head back and stays in the courtyard long enough to see the carriages disappear beyond Skyhold's gate and down the mountain path. It is a beautiful day, and for a moment she lingers in the sun, relishing the crisp air. How she missed being here. Skyhold has been vacant since the Inquisition's disbandment with only a caretaker to watch over this once bustling fortification. A symbol too sacred to tear down, too powerful to occupy.
The gates were thrown open once more however, for a special occasion. An arm slips low around her waist, the scent of leather and peppermint drifting in. She smiles, leaning her head against a warm body. Their special occasion.
"One of them called me Lord Inquisitor. Told them that's not how it works, but I don't mind admitting I liked it some."
"Dorian told me how you teased him."
"And how was I supposed to be resisting that, m'lady? All this time, him thinking my surname was Rylen." There's a deep chuckle. "Should've seen his face."
"As if I would take your name like you are a clan. Shemlen and their traditions."
"Still say I'd make a right good Lavellan. Little lean in the ears, but-"
At that, Keela finally glances at him, giving a small shake of her head. "I am happy with the way we are."
Rylen grins back at her. "So am I. Be even happier when we're all done here. Cannae wait til we'll be sipping drinks on the shore. You don't seem to mind the tradition of honeymooning so much though."
"It felt important to recognize some of the culture, for the benefit of our continued elven and shelmen relations."
"Oh, aye?" She's swept up to face him fully, and it is her turn to laugh at the mock outrage in his voice. "Is this all it is then? Public relations?"
The world around them disappears as she touches him, a thumb covering a few of the tattooed lines on his chin, a little more faded than they once were. Silver has blossomed into the dark stands of his hair - distinguished, she says, decrepit, he says. They are both older after these seven years passed, although his past has carved deeper lines. Being a templar is a life sentence. There has been the question of if the Anchor and the Vir'Abelasan will change her too, although no one she's met can predict the outcome. Except, perhaps, for one person.
She doesn't think of that person now, however - her attention and her heart are only for the one before her, and if she lingers on memories it is more recent ones, of friends and family gathered, of the two of them making vows beneath the stained glass of Skyhold. Not for anyone else but them. "No. It is because I love you, husband."
"Full glad am I to hear it, wife."
Necessity pulls them apart again for the time being. Keela makes her way to the former War Room, devoid of battle plans and tokens upon the large table, and now only holding wedding affairs. Josephine promised to help with this paperwork like all the rest before. So lost in light thoughts along the way, Keela misses the first pulse from the Mark in her palm, but there is no missing the shock of pain when it sparks again, brighter and louder this time. She grips at her wrist, leaning against the wall for support as the wave ripples through her and ozone scorches her senses.
It doesn't last long, a few frantic heartbeats, before the Mark settles but doesn't fade. A slash of electric green in her skin, much like how the sky was sliced by this power what seems like long ago. She takes a moment to collect her breath and thoughts. The matter of the Anchor has not been forgotten, but as the years have passed, and what she glimpsed in the memory crystal never came to pass, she could only hope that the issue had been solved in some manner.
Her feet turn down another hallway, determined, even as her heart flutters. Josephine will have to wait. The room with the Eluvian, usually simply locked when no one roams the halls any longer, is guarded now, and the sentries barely have the doors open in time for her to slip through. She orders them closed behind her, and stands at the mirror's threshold for a breath. It glows, ripples, activated already and not by her touch. The mark's outburst was a message, and this is an invitation. She doesn't know what it all might mean, but she knows who calls.
The world crackles and sighs around her as she steps through and into the spaces between the Crossroads, and emerges in a place half remembered. Not by her, but the her that she became in a future now overwritten. It was the final destination in a race across Thedas as the Inquisitor tracked secrets from one portal to the next. There are no demons awaiting battle, no statues of Qunari here this time - all is quiet as she walks up the hill and takes in the scenery for herself.
When she reaches the peak of the trail, Solas awaits. He stands before a great, expansive Eluvian, facing her in simple garments of green and brown. In a familiar not forgotten stance of hands behind his back, although she can see the nervousness in the shift of his feet, how he tips his chin down before meeting her gaze.
It is silent, no wind or birds or breath, as they look at one another. Time has not touched him, but she can tell there is a difference to him all the same. He thrums with power, more than she has ever felt from any creature, mage or more. It is heavy around him and in the air, and she can truly believe this power would make someone a god in the eyes of many.
But he does not wear the eyes of a god, not in the way he looks at her. There are all too mortal things there, and they pull at her heart across the well of time and hurt between them. So strange, to look upon someone you thought to spend the rest of your life with, and to feel…she would be lying to herself if she said she felt nothing. He held her heart once, completely. Seeing him again, she realizes some small part of it will likely always be his, but time has passed, and her heart has proven to be large enough.
Realization that they have been standing here for many minutes hits her, and she has always been the more courageous one. "Hello, Solas."
There's an intake of breath, his eyes closing, to steady himself, to drink in her voice - she won't let herself consider it further. When he opens his eyes they are clearer, more composed. "Keela."
The conversation stills again before it's even truly started, and this time she cannot help but give an abbreviated huff of laughter. "I have always appreciated your skill for storytelling, Solas, but if there was a time to speak plainly, and quickly, it feels like this moment."
There's a snort from him, and then, inexplicably, they are both laughing for a short spell, the spell of a thousand unspoken things breaking between them. "You are right, forgive me. I did not bring you here for us to simply linger in silence."
"Why am I here then?"
"I have done what you asked. Continued on the path to accumulate the power I once sought, albeit for other pursuits. With the foresight of the future I was even able to collect more than needed, in places where I could avoid more direct harm to others," he says, his voice taking on the same lilt it always did when explaining the Fade or Elvhen to her, and the comfort she feels from it is surprising.
He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small book, bound leather by the looks of it, with a simple clasp to hold it shut. "This belonged to her. In those final moments, she must have slipped it into my satchel, and it was not…I did not think to look inside for some time after. I can only assume because it was also on my person, like your memory crystal, that it survived through the erasure of time."
Her skin warms, not anger but something else broiling beneath the surface. Keela knows of whom he speaks. It can only be Fenera. That he has had this item the whole time…She swallows down the indignity of it. "What's inside?"
"Drawings. Some writings, most interestingly research regarding the ritual. Although she does not seem the one to have created it in whole, she was integral in its success." Solas gives her an apologetic look, reading her expression. "I know it was selfish of me to hold onto it alone, yet you had your crystal and I…"
"I haven't really given you much opportunity to share it with me."
"That-"
"It would be unfair of me to be upset about it," she says, not wanting to linger on this bruise. "Please, continue."
He sighs, but after a pause - "A Somniari, what I am, what I was before rebellions and godhood, is able to walk through the dreams of others even long forgotten. It is a form of time magic itself, although one previously for observation only. Through my blood, she was able to concoct a spell, and, in conjunction with my orb, unraveled space and time to the moment after Corypheus' defeat."
Solas steps closer, flipping through the journal as he does and giving her quick glances inside. "One final ingredient was needed. A physical connection to the past must also be made, one of fresh blood from the time and place you wish to traverse. For myself, a Somniari of both eras, it was one in the same."
A final page is turned, to reveal not more drawings but a crevice carved out of the paper, and inside it sits a vial of some sort. As he pulls it up and holds it into the amber, ambient light, Keela can see the dark red color inside, and her heart skips a beat, tumbles as he confirms her suspicions.
"It is hers," he says, holding it out to her, and although her mind is raging, it somehow tells her hand to grasp it. The vial is warm, somehow, some magic keeping the liquid inside swirling.
Keela's head shoots up, breath caught in her throat as she curls the vial into a fist. "Solas-"
"I do not intend to alter what has transpired, but I believe she planned for this. Why else stow away the journal upon my person, with vial and research inside? I am capable of doing what she could not, with the orb so uncontrolled in her grasp." He takes a breath, lets it go in a shaky exhale. "I believe the power that brought myself here can be used to pluck her from that future, from the past now, as well."
Keela isn't sure what to think. For a while, she's not sure she can even manage a coherent thought. She thought she made peace with never knowing Fenera. Those years ago, at the river, when she had the chance to use a potion to still her womb, she threw it away instead. Threw it away, knowing there would be no child of hers by that name, that soul, but knowing she wanted the possibility of others. It hurt, like some betrayal, for a person she had never met. The alien ache of it almost ate her alive.
And now this, this new foreign possibility, this unfathomable feeling she can't quite describe. It has been a long time since she last looked into the memories of the crystal when Dorian returned it to her. She found new ones there, or rather, forgotten ones. She knew in an instant why they were forgotten, and who must have helped make sure they were. Ones of her and Rylen together before the fateful events of the Exalted Council which would have sought to supplant her. Events that ended here, in this exact spot.
Three years ago she was healed enough to view them again, and their presence only made her love for Rylen even stronger. Reviewing the memories of Fenera felt different. Like a broken bone feeling the changing of the seasons. A longing for something, and the guilt of not being able to change what happened. It's a gut wrenching thing, knowing this outcome was far out of her hands. But now…
Solas must see it in her eyes, the blossoming warmth growing inside her breast. This wretched, beautiful thing named hope. "There is a final cruelty I would ask of you. To complete the full power of my remade orb, I need the final piece." He glances down at her glowing palm. "I will need to take back what you unknowingly stole, all those years ago."
She follows his gaze, fingers uncurling to glance at the Anchor. The memories of him removing it from her other self were muddled with a fury of emotions, and although she could not feel the pain through viewing, she knew it was there in the way everything blurred. That person lost much that day.
He must see the scared struggle of her thoughts, and shakes his head. "You will not lose your arm, that I promise. The power is all that I will take, and I would give you something in its place to keep you whole."
"And what is that?" Solas' eyes glow blue, the power there curling like smoke up from the corners, and inside her mind she hears the Well of Sorrows sing. It knows this power, and now she knows it too. "Mythal. You have Mythal's power. How?"
"It was given, even after…" His eyes return to normal, although there is a touch more sadness to them now. "I believe it to be what she would want. The sliver of her that remained had an immense measure of pride in you, and you are already her chosen in some regard." His attention falls to her cheeks, on the absent marks remembered. "In many ways."
The look he gives her has a weight to it that she can feel. He knows what he is asking of her, what he is offering. She would be like him. The desire to become something more has always been a fire inside her, and the desire for power an even greater flame. She would be strong enough to rise from the ashes of Inquisitor and change the world as all the Evanuris before her.
But she would be like him. She will watch the silver of Rylen's hair overtake the brown, watch him age and pass on, watch time overtake her friends and family as well. Her children- if they do not inherit her lasting life. Watch empires rise and fall and be distanced from all the fleetings lives around her.
The image, never forgotten, of Solas' tombstone in the Fade springs up in her mind.
"I will not take the Mark from you without consent, nor will I conduct this ritual without your agreement. It is…"
For the first time since their meeting, Solas truly becomes himself before her again, not the god or the leader, the Fade expert or the lone scholar. The elf she came to know when they shut the door on duty and opened up to each other. In the shift she can see just how tight he was holding himself apart since she appeared.
"It is something I desire, with the greatest longing I have felt in many years, but I would have us to be in accord. I would learn from past mistakes."
The power to break a world and spill forth another - that is what they would use here, now. There may not be enough left to fuel the return of Arlathan, or to bring down the Veil, to bring back those lost, and he would sacrifice it all just to bring back one.
In the end, so would she.
It is quite painful, to swallow the full power of a god. She barely remembers picking up the orb and what it did to her, but she feels Mythal's energy chisel its way into skin, into her marrow, into the tiniest places that make her who she is. They try to take over, the will of Mythal, the chorus of the Well, trying to fill her up so they might burst through her fragile skin. She does not let them win. She is stronger than the dead, no matter their divinity.
In the aftermath, the Anchor no longer slices across her hand. Instead her veins glow blue and gold, shimmering, before fading from sight. She knows there must be changes she can't see quite yet, judging by the way Solas looks at her, but her attention shifts to the world around. She can see the Veil, the faint outlines of the Fade beyond. She can see magic in a way she never could before, and it is terrible and beautiful. There's the knowledge it could be even more, was once, and for the first time she understands Solas in a way she could only guess before.
Time passes as she accumulates to what she has become, until the edges of night creep into the world around them. Solas is patient, a steady guide in these new uncharted waters, and even so she can feel his tension. The return of his last bit of power has made him even stronger too - she can see it in the way the irises of his eyes glow green, much like hers did. She wonders what her eyes glow like now, but those revelations will have to wait. There is one more thing to be done.
"The risks should be minimal, for the task itself. I know the moment to seek out, and there were no others there to interfere." Solas laughs, head shaking. "All of my plans had the best intentions, and consequences unforeseen for them all, so I will not pretend I can predict the outcome in its entirety."
"And if you don't come back?"
"Then I have given you what you need to see that our people thrive, in this world, or one of your own creation. May you be kinder to them than I was, and wear this burden well."
"Solas, don't…" She doesn't trust her tongue further, but he seems to understand the unspoken once again. She does not want him to fail. It is more than that. After everything, all the pain and broken promises, lies, she does not want him to die.
"It is more than I deserve," he says, before with orb and vial in hand he turns and disappears into the Eluvian.
—
"I said I would pay any price, even yours. I'm sorry for what will be but you will endure it. For us, for me."
Fenera can barely hold onto the orb, but she must. Fingers shaking, she reaches out and pours the potion over it, watches it cling to the grooves and mold to it. All she has to do is twist his device one last time, and then there will be nothing. Nothing for her, but everything for everyone else. That is the hope, the thing she's strived for for so long. An end for this time, and the beginning for another. She must do this, even if they never discover all that she has truly done.
She sees Fen'Harel, she sees her father, rushing forward screaming her name, but it is too late. Her fingers grip, and-
Everything stops.
The crackling energy of the orb quiets, the device itself unwilling to turn within her hand, like it's as easy to move as a mountain now. Looking up, she sees Fen'Harel caught in his sprint, both feet off the ground, hands outstretched to reach her. The only thing that can move is her, it seems. When she moves away the orb stays in place, as if held aloft on its own, as if frozen in-
She gasps, and finds her heart can still be wild and free.
As if frozen in time.
Everything is silent, when seconds ago the ending of this world was so loud, and in the still she can hear the soft fall of movement behind her. For a moment she's afraid to turn around, to find not what she prays for, or find nothing at all. She's not sure what would be worse. So many brave steps she's taken to this point, and just one small more. It seems the hardest of them all.
Eventually she turns, and finds another Fen'Harel in front of a portal of shimmering air.
There is a smile as he steps closer, and she can barely hold herself together. He is the same, and different, and that the light of recognition for her shines in his watery eyes gives her courage to speak. "You…you did it? You understood?"
"I did," Solas says, holding out her journal. A journal she snuck into his pocket mere minutes ago, but now looks older, more worn. He read it, found her blood, put the pieces together to make the spell hovering in the room with them right now. He understood her plan, and she can hardly believe it.
"You could've gone back to other times the orb was used. Before you gave the orb to Corypheus, before the Veil sundered, before…you could've found your way back to Arlathan."
"I suspect there are many times and locations where legions would have benefited from this knowledge. I have tried to mend things before, in my own way, and yet you have given me a new method. I will not attempt it, for one small fact that matters more to me than a thousand countless others," he says, and pauses to swallow the emotions she feels ready to burst in her own chest. "In all those other places, there may not be a you."
At that she does break, letting out a sob, falling into him more than embracing. He holds her tight, and there is so much weight to both of them, more than they can likely carry, but there will be time for that now.
"Come, let us go home." A hand reaches out for the orb, fingers twisting it with an ease she couldn't muster, and the world washes white.