Chapter 1: The Incoming Storm
"Avaline!"
A little boy with freckles, dimples, and a head of snowy curls dashed after her across
the rolling, sunlit hills of the Free Marches. Her little brother, Emery.
He collided into her arms, and she held him tight, squeezing as though she could shield
him from the world.
"Mamae na mara san," he whimpered through tears.
She pressed her forehead to his, her voice soft yet steady.
"Ma vhenan, mala suledin nadas," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "Abelas,
Emery."
Adaline knew this was a dream but still breathed deeply trying to remember her little
brothers face-
A flicker.
Darkness. The void of a dreamless night.
Then the smell of burning wicker. Old paper. Oils and pigment. Fur. Something tugged
her away, her fingertips straining to grasp a concept until she was slammed back into
her own body. The cold air makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
She was back.
Skyhold.
Another dream.
The first light of dawn painted the jagged mountains in pale hues. The air bit with frigid
cold, and she drew her fur coat—a thoughtful gift from Josie—closer around herself.
Wandering the castle, her footsteps muffled against the stone floors, a flicker of
movement at the edge of her vision made her pause.
Someone was following her.
She smiled, knowing this game all too well. Moving deliberately, she descended the
stairs toward the kitchens and slipped into an abandoned little library.
In one smooth motion, she plucked open a gold button on her jacket. Anticipation
hummed in the still air. The door behind her slammed shut.
"Am I being hunted, vhenan?" she whispered, her voice teasing.
She turned, and there he was.
Long, elegant fingers tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. Her gaze locked
with his violet eyes, gleaming with a mischievous glint.
"I'd prefer pursued, vhenan," Solas murmured, his voice a low, velvet hiss. "But the
important part is this: you've been gone for weeks... and now we are alone."
In one swift motion, he lifted her onto the desk. Those same deliberate fingers undid the
rest of her golden buttons, one by one.
"Inquisitor."
She lurched forward in her bed. She was back in Orlais. No brother, no kind but
mischievous scholar to make dreams feel real. No Avaline. Just Inquisitor.
"Good morning, Charter," she said to the masked and uniformed woman. "Do you have
the debriefs from the nightly guard?"
Day after day. Night after night. Exalted Council. Deal with the Anchor's zaps. Visit
friends worried about her. Anchor zaps. Into the Eluvians, into a fractal of the Fade.
Anchor zaps. Dinner. Zaps. Dorian berating her for not writing enough. Zaps. Making
nice with diplomats. Zaps. Write letters. Zaps. Sleep. Dream. Wake up.
Avaline was fighting for the Inquisition. The institution she had worked so hard to build.
She was exhausted. She was in constant pain.
Her frustration boiled over. She threw her quill so hard it stuck into the desk. Turning to
the window, she watched families leaving the opera—mothers, fathers, and children,
hand in hand. Echoes of a lost story lingered.
Zap.
"You know, vhenan," she muttered to herself. But not really. "You and everyone used to
make fun of me for how cheerful and hopeful I was while we were hunting Corypheus.
You worried I'd get lost in it all... lose my spirit... I fear you were right. I'm drowning. I'm
drowning in work. In pain. In blood.
"I'm lost."
She put her head down on the desk, taking slow, shaky breaths.
"You know," a voice interrupted, warm yet sarcastic but... kind. "I wondered when the
ever-smiling face of the movement would crack. Every mask does."
"Morrigan." Avaline whispered, turning slightly. "Sorry, give me one second—"
"Oh, hush. I'm only joking."
Morrigan sat on the desk, wrapping her arms around Avaline. "Breathe."
She obeyed, taking deep breaths, then whispered, "I'm just so tired."
To her surprise, Morrigan began to rock her gently. Avaline waited for a sharp remark, a
wildly confident statement. But none came.
"There once was a man I knew," Morrigan began. "He was kind and strong. He cared
about those around him. Even the buffoons." She chuckled warmly. "But I watched the
weight of Thedas crush him. The weight of leading an age of magic. Yet, that kindness
remained, even when I thought it impossible. And undeserved. You remind me of him."
"Who was he?" Avaline mumbled into her shirt.
"His name is forgotten now, as are many of his deeds. It feels like forever ago."
Morrigan's gaze drifted to the window. "I loved him."
They sat in silence for a while, Avaline reluctant to admit it felt nice to be held. But
eventually, Morrigan straightened, her confident air returning.
"Inquisitor, I bring bad news. I need your answer tonight. It's Clan Lavellan. The
situation in Wycome is degrading rapidly. Troops march to breach the city."
Avaline's stomach twisted. "I have a little brother there. He's ten. He's being cared for by
the clan leader. Let me get Josie, Lil—"
Morrigan cut her off. "I know about Emery. There have been four attempts on his life in
the last hundred days. It's clear people know he's your brother. Much like I hide Kieran, I
fear we must act swiftly. There's no time for War Table arguments."
Avaline shot out of her chair, pacing as her heart raced. "What are my options?"
Morrigan leaned forward. "He comes here. Under your direct watch."
"You've taken out six assassins against me in the last year. They're already coming for
him, and the Free Marches are unstable."
Morrigan ran her hands down her face. "You won't like the other option, Avaline."
"I trust you, Morrigan. You've been a great advisor for over two years. I'll hear you out."
Morrigan sighed. "Let me take him north, under the protection of another group."
Avaline's heart hammered. "He's a Dalish elf. If he goes to Tevinter, he'll become a
slave. I can't—"
"There are other places, Inquisitor. Other protectors. He would be safe. We can find him
when things calm down."
Avaline slumped into her chair, staring blankly out the window.
"He dies, or I lose him, or I lock him in a golden cage," she mumbled.
Morrigan placed a hand on her shoulder. "No one said being Inquisitor would be easy."
"I never asked for this," Avaline whispered.
"Yet here we are. Choices were made. Two years later, your name is known across
southern Thedas. But for what it's worth... I am sorry, Avaline."
A heavy silence hung in the room.
"...do it."
Morrigan sighed, jumping off the desk. "As you wish, Inquisitor." Moments later, a raven
flew out the window.
Avaline, now alone again, buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, Emery."
Zap.
"Fuck!"