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[RoraM]

     “What’s wrong with them?” 

 

     Mythal heard the distress in the boy’s voice and pitied him.  “Falon’Din took their magic.  Their minds have been stilled.”

 

     “Can we change them back?”

 

     “We can.  You should know they fought and were tortured for it.”  Mythal had shuddered after she had heard her agent’s reports about what mutilations and degradations had been visited upon the boy’s parents before their minds were broken and branded.  “The memories they have will be difficult to bear," she said gently.  "They will most likely not be the parents you knew.  A choice now stands before you, Da’len.  We may restore your parents, but where will they go?  Your home is gone.  They will need to relearn how to care for themselves before they can care for you.  You are strong and clever, but are yet a boy, and what they must learn, you cannot teach.  I present an alternative: stay with me, serve me, and I will see they want for nothing.  You will learn to hone your skills and harness all the potential of your power.  I promise to care for you as if you were my own child.  Consider my offer carefully.”  The boy had not yet learned to hide his feelings.  His emotions played out plainly across his face as he struggled with the decision.

 

     “I-I need to speak with someone before I decide,” he said, at last.  Mythal nodded.  She knew he would consult Dirth’ena just as she already knew what Dirth’ena would advise.

 

     “Ma nuvenin, Da’len.  I await your answer.”

 

***

 

     A figure emerged from the shadows.

 

     “I will admit, the griffon was a nice touch. Does he know you sent me, as well?”

 

     “No.  I did not wish to undermine his confidence.”

 

     “You were hedging your bets.  If he failed, at least he would have served as a distraction while I finished the job.  What would you have given me had I won?” 

 

     “Not everything is a competition, Andruil.  You have a new brother.  Treat him well.”

 

(To be continued...)

[RoraM]

     “What you said to Blackwall was unfair, emma lath,” Tala said in their tent later that night.

 

     “That is not his name, Vhenan. It belonged to another man. The decision to bring him back to the Inquisition was not one I would have made.”

 

     “At first, I was angered, too, at being deceived," she said, shaking the day's dust out of her hair before starting to comb. "But were his actions any different from those of the nobles we defended at Halamshiral? How many of them continue to hide behind their masks, arranging the deaths of their rivals for coin and prestige? I do not condone the murder of children, but I believe he wishes to atone. His death will not bring them back.”

 

     “A tool that may yet find use. Are you Dalish or Qunari?” Solas said scornfully. Another woman might have slapped him. Tala only looked at him with eyes full of sorrow.

 

     “What happened to you, emma lath, that you cannot find the compassion to see his contrition? You say he ran away rather than face what he had done. Yet, he faces it now. All the months he fought at our side, putting himself between us and our enemies—are they now meaningless? Had he undergone the Wardens’ Joining, we would not be having this conversation. I merely granted him the life he ought to have had, which was no mercy. As for his name, it is of little importance. It is the man that matters.”

 

     Solas felt ashamed. He reached out to caress her face. “Whoever he is, the man spoke one truth: you inspire men to be better than they are. Ir abelas, Vhenan,” he said, bending his forehead to hers.  A look of mischief flashed across her eyes.

 

     “Exactly how sorry are you?” she asked, slowly undressing.  Solas chuckled.

 

     “Let me show you.”

 

(To be continued...)

[RoraM]

Author's Note:  Content of suspect virtue, in keeping with submissions to The Randy Dowager Quarterly.  You have been warned.

 

     Solas passed his hand along the golden surface of the eluvian.  It quivered shimmering beneath his touch.

 

     “It needs a key,” he heard Tala say softly behind him as she closed the door that led to Skyhold’s garden.  “To think the ancient People traveled across Thedas using these.  Morrigan calls the place where they join ‘The Crossroads’.  I wish you could have seen it, Solas.  Everything illuminated by purest light, as if shining through perfectly cut crystal.  The air!  I thought nothing could compare to Skyhold’s mountain air, but breathing there…I didn’t know how much cleaner air could be.  And the paths… I felt I could walk those paths forever.  Ser Michel told us much of Briala’s eluvian network, but his reports did not do it justice.  That Morrigan has the knowledge to access even this small part of it makes me jealous.”

 

     Solas shook his head.  “I have heard her speak of the elvhen.  For all her ‘knowledge’, she cannot resist giving legend the weight of history.  The wise do not mistake one for the other.  Do not be taken in.  She speaks enigmatically to hide her ignorance.”

 

     She slipped her arms around his neck.  “And what would you tell me different, emma lath?” she asked, kissing him. His words came out slowly between kisses.

 

     “Her theory… about accessing the Fade… is flawed.  An eluvian alone would… not be enough… to tempt Corypheus.”

 

     “Mm,” she said after a particularly long kiss, “At the moment, I’m more concerned with what might tempt you.  By the way, I locked the door…and I came prepared,” she said, tilting her head.  He looked over to a linen-covered bench where a heavily laden tray of food sat, including a very large jar of honey.

 

     He laughed.

 

     “But what if I hunger for something else, Vhenan?”

 

     “I can’t imagine what that might be.  I asked the kitchens to-"  He silenced her with a kiss and then joined his mana to hers.

 

     He laid her down gently onto the linen that had covered the eluvian.  She moved to unclasp her tunic, but he stilled her hands, taking over, following each unhooked clasp with a kiss to neck, down chest, then to belly.  His fingers drew the glyph for cold in the air above her and snow, soft and light, fell, just enough to coax her breasts into peaks, which he then took into his mouth. Meanwhile, his other hand traced the glyph for heat over the place where her thighs met.  He felt the magic surge between them.

 

     She had already loosened her laces for him.  When he slipped her breeches off her, his hand noted she was not wearing any smallclothes.

 

     “I told you I came prepared,” she chuckled.

 

     Gently parting her knees, his mouth still snow-cooled, he bent his head down to taste her, her soft skin warm from the glyph he had traced.  Beneath his tongue, flesh gave to fingertip, nail, and knuckle.  He glanced up at her, her back arching, the golden summer light from the windows on each side of the eluvian shining on her bare skin.  She was so beautiful.  And she was his.

 

     As he entered her, he reached forward to brace himself against the eluvian.  Her eyes remained blissfully shut so she did not see the Crossroads come into view behind her as his palm touched the mirror’s surface. She was moaning now, her hips rising up to meet him, her hands on his back pulling him in deeper, while she closed around him. Their movements became more urgent and the eluvian shook. Almost too late he realized the energy building between them could send it splintering.  He let go of the mirror before bringing them to their climax.  As he emptied himself into her, with each shattering wave he knew he wanted to walk those paths with her always.

 

     I will tell her.  I will tell her everything.

 

(To be continued...)

[RoraM]

     The truth.

 

     A candle cannot burn like the sun any more than the sun can burn like a candle. 

 

     It was easy to forget this when the dangers of war might take either of them at any moment.  But once order was restored, when everyone turned to the task of rebuilding, there would be time.  And time changed everything.

 

     He looked at her expectant face.

 

     We cannot change our nature simply by wishing.

 

     A lesser truth, then.

 

     Ir abelas, ma vhenan.

 

(To be continued...)

[RoraM]

     Pain tore through Tala’s chest.  She looked down and saw no arrow.  An arrow might have been pulled out.  This pain came from another place.  She struggled to understand. Her brain had turned stupid and slow.  Felas da’len.  Finally, a thought emerged.  If she retraced the events that led her here, she might be able to decide what to do next.

 

     Victory over Corypheus at the temple. 

 

     A question. 

 

     Whatever comes, I will have you by my side. 

 

     “Come with me, Vhenan.” 

 

     We came here. 

 

     Good.  You remember.

 

     Then, a choice. 

 

     Yes, that was where it began.

 

     My people vowed never to submit to slavery…

 

     Ma harel, Da’len.  You did not choose to be free.  You chose to be bound.  Forsaking clan.  Forsaking tradition.  Forsaking the gods themselves. 

 

     For him.

 

     Dirth ma, harellan.  Did you not think there would be a price for a betrayal all the world would see? 

 

     But I did as he asked.  I did not drink—

 

     "Nothing is ever won without something else being lost."

   

     It is over.  He is gone.

 

     “In another world…” “...my life is yours.”

 

     Pain once more ripped through her.  “Ma ghilana mir din'an,” she whispered, despite knowing no one heard her now.

 

(To be continued...)

[RoraM]

     “May we speak, Solas?” Dorian could barely conceal his anger.  The elven apostate levelled a cool glance at him.

 

     “What is there to discuss, Dorian?”

 

     “Plenty,” Dorian said grimly, flame balling up in his hand.  “But this is not the place.  Perhaps somewhere more civilized?”

 

     Around them the landscape shifted and changed and they were now sitting in the silk-lined private box of Archon Nomaran during the seventh age while a richly-costumed pantomime depicting the fall of Arlathan played out on the gilded stage below.

 

     “You somniari truly are extraordinary!  I wouldn’t have thought you had this in you.”

 

     “Since you went to the trouble of finding me in your sleep, it was worth the effort of doing something interesting,” Solas said drily.

 

     “As fascinating as all this is, Solas, you must admit we have a problem.”  The elf remained silent.  “Venhedis, man! I knew you were cold, but I never thought you capable of this.”  Dorian shook his head.  “You no longer travel with us so you don’t see.  She's grown reckless.  Did you know she took on a Hivernal dragon single-handedly?  Left in the middle of the night without so much as a word to anyone.  When we finally found her, the battle was nearly over.  The poor thing is already small and she no longer eats so we almost didn’t see her amongst the walls of ice.  She was half frozen, all her potion gone.  When she finally got to her feet, she stood over that dragon and wept like she had lost her best friend.   And I was standing right there.  Then, she moved on to fight the next one.  Nothing we said could sway her.  The Kaltenzahn had to knock her unconscious before we could retreat.  You may have your reasons, but the woman needs an explanation.”

 

     “Will an explanation change the fact that what we had has ended?”  The Tevinter mage heard the bitterness in his voice.  “I have already admitted my selfishness and told her the fault was mine, to harden her heart and put her pain to use against Corypheus.  None of us can afford to be distracted.” Dorian looked at him, eyes narrowing.

 

     “Oh, you are clever.  I’ll grant you that.  I didn’t see it before.  Your 'unassuming apostate hobo' is really quite effective.  There is something you want.  I'd wager my life on it.  Something more than her, magnificent creature though she is.  But, at some point, you thought you could have her, too.  Something changed...and you’ve made her think it's her duty that stands in the way.”  Solas opened his mouth to speak.  Dorian would not allow him to interrupt, his voice implacable.  “Don’t think I don’t know you’ve made it near-impossible for her to be with anyone else.  With all the time you spend consorting with spirits, I should have expected you’d pick up a thing or two; like Imshael, presenting her with a choice but already knowing what the final outcome must be.”  Dorian shook his head.  “Cullen would have loved her as she was.”

 

     “Yes.”  Dorian heard the note of regret in his voice.  Was that pain in Solas’ eyes, or had he imagined it?  Perhaps the man had a heart after all.  “Goodbye, Dorian.” 

 

     “Goodbye, So-"  Dorian awoke in a chair, an open book in his lap.

 

(To be continued...)

[RoraM]

     Corypheus was dead.  It was over.  While celebrations at Skyhold continued long into the night, Tala had chosen to retire early to her quarters.  Solas had truly disappeared this time, if that had even been his name.

 

     It is the man that matters.

           

     The mark glowed softly.  She heard a knock at the door.

 

     “Come.”

 

     “Your tea, my lady.”   The servant began pouring.

 

     “No honey,” Tala said before the woman could stir in her usual spoonful.  The woman looked surprised, but handed her the cup, then bowed before leaving. 

 

     Tala emptied a sachet of the powder Adan had made into her tea.  She prayed to any gods that might hear her that it would keep her from dreaming.  Adan could make no promises.  Corypheus might be dead, but there was still much to do and she would need sleep.

 

(To be continued...)

[RoraM]

     The Anchor had always allowed her to dream with remarkable clarity. 

 

     Solas watched his beloved wander through a midnight garden where moonflowers, large as saucers, bloomed.  Above her hovered a spirit.

 

     “I know where he is, Tala.  Say the word and I shall bring him to you.”

 

     For a moment, he saw something like hope flicker across her eyes.  Then he saw them harden.

 

     “A spirit of generosity would have him here already. A spirit of wisdom would wish to discuss the relative merits and disadvantages of finding him. A spirit of compassion would try to help me move past my pain.  Which are you?”

 

     “None of the above.  I am Choice.”

 

     “Then I know your kind.” Her mark glowed as her will brought her spirit blade blazing into being.  “Be gone.”

 

***

 

     Solas had not expected the panic he would feel upon seeing another with his face and voice in the Fade.

 

     “Ar lath ma, Vhenan,” it said to her, lying in their bed.  Warm honey dripped from fingers into her mouth and onto her naked body.  He watched as hands identical to his own caressed every curve and ached when he saw her flesh rise to respond.  Her eyes were closed so she did not see the fangs now extending from its mouth nor that it was no longer honey, but demon slaver dripping onto her.

 

     “I would be yours every night.  Just say you are mine,” it said softly.  Solas froze.

 

     Her eyes opened.  “That was a mistake.”  Her spirit blade flashed, frightening the demon away. “My love knows I am his,” he heard her say as it retreated, her voice breaking.  When the demon was gone, he watched her crumble to her knees with her face in her hands and whisper, “My love knows I am his.” Then she disappeared. 

 

     He knew that somewhere, she awoke crying.

 

***

 

     Though it flickered erratically, Solas would have recognized her signal from the farthest reaches of the Fade.  He found her, her back to him with stained spirit blade drawn, standing over a creature whimpering at her feet.  Its hair clung to its head, matted black with ash and old blood.  Two dark holes stared where eyes had once been.  Fresh blood spattered and trailed down its neck and chest from where its tongue had been cut out.

 

     Before he could stop her, she brought her spirit blade down upon the wretched figure’s hands, severing them at the wrist.  She, who always killed cleanly and quickly, who was never cruel, had done all of this to another being. 

 

     She spoke slowly, her voice dull.

 

     “Night after night she longed to see you, so I cut out her eyes.  Then she whispered your name every second of every hour, longing for your taste, so I cut out her tongue.  Still, she would not learn.  She wandered the Fade with outstretched arms, ever reaching for your body, craving your touch, so I cut off her hands.” 

 

     As she spoke, she began to carve jagged lines into the creature’s face, a mockery of the symbol of Mythal. The song of her magic sounded sick and frenzied.

 

     “Recognize her now, emma lath?”  The spirit blade fell.  The woman who held it vanished, dropping swordgrip to lie across the palms of the creature’s severed hands.  He crouched down beside the trembling figure and saw it was her, his beautiful Tala.

 

     “Stop this, Vhenan.”  He saw the despair demons start to descend.  They would possess her soon.

 

     “Or what, figment of the Fade?” mocked her disembodied voice,  “What I love most is gone, now lost to me in two worlds.  Let the demons come.”

 

     “No,” he said, eyes filled with sorrow.

 

***

 

     Tala awoke and realized she was alone once more.  A sound unrecognizable as human or elven keened throughout Skyhold.  When all that remained of her voice was the metallic taste of blood at the back of her throat, she opened her eyes.  Outside, a star fell from the blue-black sky.  She made a decision.

 

(To be continued....)

[RoraM]

If there is one thing of mine I would have Patrick Weekes read, it would be Tala's third dream.

[CapriMe]

If there is one thing of mine I would have Patrick Weekes read, it would be Tala's third dream.

It has a very strong impact. It stuck with me after I had read it.  And it, like the rest of your work here, is very well written.

[RoraM]

     Divine Victoria sat silent for a moment.  The woman before her looked like she hadn’t slept properly for months.

 

     “Where will you go, Inquisitor?” she asked at last.

 

     “I search for something lost.  That is all you need know.”

 

     “What shall we tell the people?”

 

     “Tell whatever story you wish.  I fought for order and that is what we have.”

 

     “Will you return to your clan?”

 

     “No.  Seeing me this way…they would not understand.  I have written a letter.  Would you be so kind as to ensure it reaches Wycome?” 

 

     “Of course.”

 

     “Thank you, Most Holy.  Your Maker be with you.”

 

     The woman once known as Leliana watched as the elf walked away, carrying only a pack and staff.  It was true order had been restored, but for how long?  When the time came, Thedas would need a hero.  They had lost the Warden and the Champion.  They could not lose the Herald.  She rang for the chancellor.

 

     “Please advise Lady Briala that Inquisitor Lavellan heads to a ruined village in the north.”

 

THE END

[RoraM]

Author's Note:  There's a danger of madness when working with rifts and the Fade, as exemplified by the Inquisitor's conversation with "Your Trainer":

 

     "Hello.  Yes, hello.  I am Your Trainer."

 

     "Yes?"

 

     "I am Your Trainer."

 

     "You said that."

 

     "Good, because it has been a long journey, the cause is just, and if we don't start soon you won't have time to learn.  I am Your Trainer."

 

     "You didn't mention your name."

 

     "I am Your Trainer."

 

     "That isn't a name."

 

     "It is what I am.  I try very hard to remember that much.  There is so much else to keep in mind."

 

     "Who charged you with studying magic from the rifts?"

 

     "The Mages' Collective.  I did not just say that.  Yes, I did say it, and we're proud to help."

 

     That Solas is not similarly addled not only speaks to a strength of will and focus that allows him to masterfully wield "a power that casts enemies aside with the abandon of a creator force", but also to an inherent recklessness, given the obvious dangers of working with Fade rifts (attempting to harness the power of the rifts led to nineteen deaths among the Mages' Collective alone).  

 

     The question is not, "Would a mortal be driven mad once knowing the love of a millennia-old being with the ability to exert god-like power over the Fade?"  The question is, "Why would they not?"

[CapriMe]

It hurts so good.  Thank you!

[RoraM]

Thank you, CapriMe, for reading!

[Nefi87]

I want that Iron Bull romance now, please

[RoraM]

My dear, dear Nefi.  I'm not making any promises, but I've started the research...

[Nefi87]

Aaaaw )))))

[RoraM]

UPDATE:  I've rewritten the love scene in post #22 and lengthened the chapter in post #23, which I always felt had been much too short.

[Nefi87]

Rora, my dear, it's time for new romance to write ) Soooo, I'm unpatiently waiting for Iron Bull! ))))))