Chapter Text
Sunlight barely filters through the thick leaves of the Arbor Wilds trees, and thin golden rays settles on the iron of Ilyana’s chain mail. The elf makes slowprogress on the almost invisible trails drawn by the temple’s sentinels. Sitting on the back of her halla, she seems lost in thoughts, ignoring the sheer beauty of the foret’s wild flowers. She is worried. Images flies through her head : a pale body hunched on her, words whispered in her ear, her skin tingling, this hand on her thigh, those long, slender fingers inside her flesh… The monotonous rocking of her steed only reminds her of Abelas’ thrusts while he pressed his body against the stone. The halla might keep a slow, steady pace, but her memories are racing. She remembers the mage leaning against the altar so he could enter her, then going faster and faster, their pleasure blossoming — when the halla suddenly stops, a leg raised, torn between fear and the will to flee. Jolted out of her thoughts, Ilyana takes out her staff and gets ready to throw a spell when a wolf, much bigger average, gets slowly out of the underbrush. He pads up to the petrified steed, then against all odds, puts his snout against its as in a gesture of greeting. On the defensive, the mage watches this weird scene, feeling her cervid relax when something happens : the eldritch blue light coming out of the beast’s eyes runs along the snout and creeps into the halla’s gaze. The steed seems stunned for a moment, then suddenly screams and rears before it goes in a mad run, the wolf opening the way. Panicking, Ilyana tries to slow down her steed, but to no avail. On the run, the halla almost looses its rider trying to avoid the branches hitting her face. The elf gives up and latches herself against her steed, het thighs holding on to his back, doing her best to stay in the saddle. She follows the wolf, who seems to know perfectly where he is going. Some unease settles in her heart, a feeling that eats at her and only grows stronger as long as they get closer to their destination. Because this is not just some wild chase. Arriving at the foot of a strange cliff, the wolf suddenly stops to check that the halla is still following. He uncovers a tiny hole in the rock wall, just big enough for a big mammal to pass through. Now the beast stares at the inquisitor before getting into the burrow. Ilyana dismounts. The vision of this dark tunnel intensifies her fear, but she’s the kind who faces her own terrors. So she grabs her staff and pets her halla before getting on all fours to follow the creature. But even as her hand leaves her steed’s fur, a new, unexplainable unease takes hold of her. She has one last look at her friend and says in a frayed voice:
— If… If I don’t come back, go home.
The halla gets restless, unwilling to let its mistress go. Ilyana gets up, take its snout in her hands and puts her forehead on his huge skull in order to calm it.
— Thank you… Friend…
With a heavy heart, the elf glids inside the burrow, peering through the gloomto check the two blue orbs that shines regularly as if the great wolf actually looked back to check on its follower. The passage is rather narrow and her tunic often rips on the numerous roots sticking from the earth. Then comes the light. Much to her surprise, the burrow opens on a large clearing entirely closed by the cliffs. This place, secret, intimate, reminds her of her last rendez-vous with Solas. But here, the Veil is much thinner. The inquisitor does not feel mere shivers, but a real feeling of oppression, for in the middle of the clearing, a statue of Fen’Harel proudly stands. Its design, coarser than usual, implies that it is much older than anything she encountered in the course of her journeys. Traces of life are scattered here and there though : a still –warm campfire, some belongings folded under a roof made of branches. Pretty surprising for such a remote place… Cutted out from the w…
Suddenly Ilyana’s blood starts to boil. She runs to the statue, looks behind her, and what she sees almost makes her faint. He is there, lying on the ground, as if in a deep sleep, just like he was when she walked on him while he was escaping in the Fade. But today, things are different. His skin is paler, his breathing faster, his face more tense. And especially, mostly, the orb floats above him, electrifying the air, cloaking this immemorial sanctuary in a foul atmosphere. How was the thing ever fixed ? She doesn’t know. For the first time, the young mage feels utterly helpless. In her panic, she wants to turn around and search for help, but the wolf who brought her here has other ideas. The beast jumps in front of her, all fangs and claws, ready to pounce. Other wolves with crystal-clear eyes have joined him, surrounding the elf. Though when she steps back towards Solas, as in unison, the wolves unclench their jaws. Then she understands : someone took her there deliberately. But who ? And why ? She does not remember the apostate having any affinity with animals… Or… Can those wolves be really spirits ? It doesn’tmatter. Her priority is to wrench Solas out of this state that seems so painful to him. Again, Ilyana goes to his motionless body, but the magic around her seems to crackle as she gets closer to him… No, to the orb… She reaches for it, and slender lightnings shoots from her fingertips to mix with the glow of the elfic artefact. Some kind of magnetism is building up. Ilyany hurrily takes of her hand so she can think about her next move.
But nothing has prepared her for such a choice. Today, there is no one to give her assistance. Nobody even knows where she is or how to help her if she needs it. What if something happened to her ? Can Thedas survive her disparition ? What can she do ? But Solas’ face suddenly contracts again. His breathing gets ragged as Ilyana begins to have second thoughts. She takes a deep breath, lies down close to the elf’s body and snuggles against him. After so many months of separation, so many questions, such suffering, this contact gives her the strength to go through with her idea. Thedas can end up swallowed by the Deep Roads, The Inquisition crumble without her… Theres nothing less but her and Solas… Illyana feverishly reaches towards the orb while clutching the mage’s tunic. Suddenly, with a great booming sound, the artefact welds itself to her skin, and she faints.
Ilyana slowly opens her eyes in a dark world, close to the one she thinks she has just leave. She’s still in a closed space, though she can’t really see the stone behind a dark, thick fog. She knows that she has slipped into the Fade. The Fen’harel statue is still there, a strange shape on its back. Two blue lights stares at the mage while she slowly, painfully gets up, her body bruised by the schock wave, her tunic coming out in pieces. Trying to keep her eflic dress in place, she gets up on one knee and reaches for the wolf who, she thinks, brought her here. And indeed, in time, she manages to see his snout under his thick black hair, but its wrinkles and apparent fangs does nothing to soothe her. Ilyana tries to speak to the beast, to appease it :
— It’s… Me. You came looking for me…
Against all odds, a deep bomming voice comes out of the wolf’s mouth :
— Yes… It’s You. You are finally here…
Astonished, the inquisitor looks at him. What she thought to be a wolf perched on the statue’s rump moves and his head gets up, a bit higher than it should. A slight breeze lifts up the fog so that Ilyana has a better view of the strange creature standing in front of her. The light is too dim for her to see any color, but the shape is humanoid, very tall, with lean muscles. Pants with torn seams seems to hang on misshapen legs, where his thin waist and perfect chest support a head straight out of a nightmare. Long unruly fangs in an oversized snout, and the pale blue light burning in his eyes accentuates his snarling mouth. The elf begins to doubt the reality of the scene, especially when, in one of his long-fingered, clawed hands, she sees the orb. But it is glowing scarlet, a color unknown to her. Ilyana has no time to ask more questions : the monster jumps from his perch and starts creeping around her like a vulture waiting for his prey to die.
— You are puzzled by the orb, isn’t it ? Please note that I’m just claiming back the very thing I created. The light it casts depends on its location.
— You’d better tell me why you brought me here.
— I was getting to this. Since the orb was forged in the Fade, it can only be destroyed where it came from. Its primary purpose was to separate the Fade from what you call reality. But in the past, some people tried to use it as a key helping them to go through the Veil. As long as this artefact exists, your world is in danger, that’s why we have to destroy it.
— You created it. Why don’t you destroy it yourself ?
— I would have done it… If taking it on the other side of the Veil had not weakened me so much. The orb’s presence prevents me from getting all my powers back. That’s why I called upon you.
— Me ? But I…
Ilyana pauses. She does not understand her role in this matter. Moreover, she does not understand why Solas is not here with them. She lowers her gaze, not out of humility, but in order to concentrate. That’s when she realizes what is lying at her feet : a broken pendant lies on the ground, surrounded by bits of torn fabric that she instantly recognizes. Her reaction is strong : she reaches for the beast, ligntning shotting out of her fingertips :
— You used Solas to get me there !
The creature has a cold, mirthless laugh which only strenghtens the elf’s mistrust.
— Haha ! Help me destroy the orb once and for all and I swear you’ll see him again.You already broke it once, doing it again should be easy.
Ilyana does not like all this one bit. She has already dealt with an elfic deity before, but if the being standing before her is really the one she suspects, if theGod of treason himself offers her a deal, helping him might be a mistake. But shecan’t help provoking him :
— First, tell me what you have done of him ! I don’t trust you, it’s his blood pooling at my feet ! You killed him ! You wanted the orb ! YOU KILLED HIM !
The wolf-man suddenly loses his patience. He starts stamping his feet, circling around the inquisitor who still stares at him, chin up.
— I don’t care about the artefact, I just want to set things right !
— You’re lying ! You want it for yourself ! You’re no better than Corypheus !
Hearing this, the beasts gets irritated and snarls even more, letting the orb float in the air behind him :
— How dare you… Besides, I find your worrying quite misplaced for someone who betrayed the one who loved you.
She was expecting anything but this. For a moment, she stays silent, puzzled.
— You say you want to save the world, and you inflict pain on the only person who shows some sympathy ?
The inquisitor is beginning to lose patience :
— What are you talking about ? And what does this has to do with anything ? And with YOU ? It’s none of your business !
— ENOUGH !
The monster jumps on her and hurls her frail body against the statue. His fingers closes on the inquisitor’s throat while the other hand grabs her wrist. With the creature on her, she can’t throw a spell, or she might hurt both of them. Her breathing gets ragged, the impact against the stone resonates in her bones. She’s panicking. This beast on her, his hot body is crushing hers, this coarse breath, those fangs getting closer to her face… A quick death could be the best for her… She tries to say something, but just as a bit of sound gets out of her mouth, the creature lossens a bit her grasp, ildly attacks again, letting her no chance to escape. Then the monsters pushes her head on the side, clearing her naked throat. In a snarl, he lowers his monstrous jaw, eager to bite her tender flesh.
— Though… Though you took pleasure in this… You can’t deny it, rasps the
monster.
Drool falls on Ilyana’s body who suddenly screams in desperation :
—Yes, I took pleasure in this because I fantasized myself in his arms !
— Of course, and I guess the body having you was also his ?
— What can you understand about this ? How dare you judge my actions ? Can you even grasp the emptiness he left in me ?
The creature rages on. Eyes suddenly pop in the fur covering his skull, glowing sickly red. He tries to keep her in his grasp without crushing his victim in a fit of rage and adds in an ice-cold voice :
— Do you even know who you are talking to ?
This painful transformation scares the inquisitor to death. She can no longer deny the evidence : it is indeed Fen’harel himself who is attacking her. She still does not understand why, and refuses to balk after such unjustified violence.
— I am talking to a god who knows nothing of his people’s feelings ! I’m talking to a monster to whom I’m not afraid to say that I don’t have any regrets, because at the last moment, it’s Solas’ name who escaped my lips !
For one second, she feels the creature hesitate. This furtive moment had actually escaped from her, as she was too busy to kill the beast she had tracked to pour out her anger. Fen’harel tries then to regain his composure by hitting the statue so close to Ilyana’s face that for one second, she thought he would crush her head like a bothersome insect.
— You’re lying !
— It means you don’t know and that I don’t have to listen to your speech, since god or not, it’s none of your bloody business !
Feeling her end getting closer, the elf decides to go for broke and stares at the monster without flinching. Surprisingly, he loosens his grip. His voice gains strength, at last, to utter more quitely :
— You will always be a source of astonishment…
Now it’s Ilyana’s turn to turn white. Listening to his voices, images lines up in her head : Solas taking her hand so she can peacefully drift in sleep, taking her to Haven in her dreams, their first kiss, this first sign of worry… The second kiss on a balcony, where he seemed ill at ease, but declared his love nonetheless… Then those words in the rotunda, those words which suddenly makes sense and that she can’t help repeating :
— No real god need to prove himself. Anyone who tries is mad or lying. So… Solas ?
— So you were listening after all ?
— More than you can imagine.
The beast lowers his eyes, as if finally understanding the folly of his rage, and has a step back. The inquisitor holds her back, putting a hand on this misshapen jaw, trying to look in his eyes, but Solas, always true to himself, keeps fleeing. Eventually she throws herself in his arms, clinging to the thick fur that covers his shoulders. Overwhelmend by his own emotions, the mage embraces the young elf. Both are silent and motionless for a moment that seems to last forever. Their muscles relaxe, their breaths slow until Solas, opening eyes which are clear again, just has the time to realise that Ilyana is reaching for the orb.
— Vhenan !
Halting her gesture, the inquisitor smiles softly and whispers :
— Vhenan… Hearing you calling me by this name is worth any sacrifice.
As much as possible, Solas’ face is bitter. He steps aside to face the artefact.They look once again at each other. He puts his clawed hand on her wrist and together, like they did in Haven, they reach out, letting the magic crackle. A new detonation shakes her violently, but this time, a powerful body is there to hold on to her. In a second, she sees the orb explode in a blinding flash of light before she faints again.
In a demonstration of strength, Ilyana opens her eyes. She is back in the clearing. The moss is soft under her fingers and the little stream’s singing as it flows past Fen’harel’s statue its music to her ears. Lying on the ground, she stares at the god’s figure, one knee on the ground. He reaches towards the broken pendants and, his palm hovering over its pieces, utters an imperceptible incantation. The pieces slowly reassemble and the familiar jaw takes shape again. The monster puts the pendant around its neck and changes shape again under the inquisitor’s gaze. The beast’s features seems to petrify, its fur falls down and the skin of its limbs splinters like a clay mask in the heat. Bits and pieces falls on the ground and crumbles into dust, revealing Solas’ face. This face she as searched for ages. He freshens himself by the creek, but where the water touches skin, long and thick dreadlocks pushes through the upper part of his skull. The apostate turns around to face his beloved and, in a simple gesture, knots his hair in a ponytail. Ilyana has a bit of a hard time recognizing her loved one : in this strange place, his nature is much different. He walks to her and says :
— This is my true apparence, at least the one I chose. The pendant helped me keep the one you knew, but it was broken during my passage in the Fade. So… the beast… took over.
The elf stares at him. His body seems similar to the one she knows, even if she had never seen him so… undressed. She realizes that she follows the drops of water flowing along his torso down to what’s left of his pant struggling to hold on to his long, slender legs. She’s sure that she won’t let him go astray, especially now that she knows how much he desires her. Without hesitating, she steps forward and kisses him. At the moment their lips touch, Solas kisses her back, long and sweet. He suddenly seems… at peace. Ilyana passes her hand through his weird hair and has an odd smile :
— The Dread Wolf…
— As I told you before, divinity is overrated, we are just…
Ilyana interrupts him without apology :
— I love Solas the Apostate first and foremost, and I have things to settle with him post-haste !
She kisses him again with more determination. Her hand slids along his neck, traces the muscles of his chest, her fingers searching every single crease. The mage steps back to look at her face, hoping to find there confirmation of what he secretely wishes. The vallaslin are beginning to make her skin glow, but he says nothing and his gaze remains steady when Ilyana takes off what’s left of her torn keeper’s tunic. The fabric flies to the ground and Solas discovers the dalish’ slender body. Her dull skin greets the rays of the sun, giving her the tone of soft velvet. He resists the temptation to embrace her wildly, though despite his lust, he keeps the same inscrutable mask that he perfectly masters, since he wants to know what she is about to do. He doesn’t want to influence her, which is why he remains motionless when she starts kissing again. Her left hand strokes his cheek while the right one unties the sash of her panties, which slides down her slender thighs. Solas’ lust is struggling with his curiosity while he tries to stay in touch with this warm, naked body. On her side, Ilyana is not losing patience, on the contrary, she is reveling in this long-awaited moment. Her fingers gets tangled in the dreadlocks of her lover while the other hand lies on his hip, hooking for one moment to the lanyard of his ragged pant and finally closing up on his shaft, guessing its shape under the thick fabric. The apostate finally tears himself from the inquisitor’s kisses so he can take a deep breath. She smiles for herself and, with a new confidence, licks suggestively the crease of his chin. She slowly circles down his body, skimming his muscles with her lips all the while massaging languidly his groin. Kneeling before him, she invites him to lie on the statue while she loosens what’s left of his clothing. Soon she reveals the mage’s sex, popping out of his loincloth, vibrant with desire. She takes it close to her face and rubs the heavy shaft against her cheeks, eyes closed, breathing in its enebriating scent : something spicy, slightly bitter… Lowering the loincloth, she frees the object of her lust, her mouth following its erect shape. The wait is so long that Solas has trouble breathing. Ilyana takes hold of his manhood with both hands to kiss it, starting with the testicles to move towards the head. Her tongue creeps under his skin, turning around before finally taking it very slowly in her mouth, coaxing a moan from the mage. As the inquisitor crams him down her throat, Solas opens his mouth. His eyes sparkles with electricity, glowing again blue in the coming night. He watches her silently, and the vision of the shining vallaslins just makes him even more turned on. She takes him further and further, feeling his stiffness against the skin of her mouth, then her throat, changing shape under his pressure, much to her delight. The two lovers can’t help but imagine the same thing happening between Ilyana’s thighs while Solas, more and more tense, is on his way to orgasm. Little shivers down his shaft lets Ilyana know how close he is. He tries to pull out, but his companion’s lust is such that she throws herself roughly against him, leaving him no way to escape. The impact of his head against her throat does the trick, and the pleasure is such that he staggers. It had been so long…
He slides along the statue , falling on his knees in front of her. Ilyana is catching her breath and, too excited to stop there, reaches towards her vulva and starts touching herself. To her surprise, Solas grabs her wrist :
— No !
The apostate looks at her wet fingers, then stares at the inquisitor as if probing her very soul, and his face lits up with a lopsided smile. His eyes still locked in hers, he licks her long fingers. His tongue slids up and down, then the top, like he would the dalish’s clitoris. She holds her breath each time Solas takes the time to pinch the tip of her fingers between his fleshy lips. Overwhelmed by her lover’s silent promises, she can’t help bringing her other hand to her sex. But he stops her immediately by taking her arm, then he adds without even looking at her :
— I won’t tell you twice.
Keeping pace, he licks together the index and middle finger then separates them by sliding his tongue between them, once, twice, thrice… Ilyana grits her teeth. This sweet torture is driving her crazy. Her hips start moving on their own and she utters little moans of impatience. This little motion puts Solas back in the game, but he is adamant to enjoy his headstart. That’s why he gets up, carries the inquisitor to the wolfs rump and sits her on it. As he spreads Ilyana’s thighs, she lets herself fall back, offering her sex to the mage who can’t wait to take a mouthful as if it was a ripe fruit. Seeing this body lying on the stone, shivering at his touch, has an unique feeling, giving him a peculiar sense of power. His tongue touches the outer, then inner lips, all silk, looking for any trace of her nectar. This sweet and hot taste close to felandaris syrup intices him to make his best to gather even more. He plunges two fingers in the moist slit without stopping his work on the clitoris, which he lifts up many times with the tip of his tongue. Thus he maintains a soft pressure in the depth of his being, vivifying the slow tide of pleasure. His tongue gets more insistant, and the sighing elf tries to lean against the statue in order to lift her pelvis. Listening to his lover’s moans, Solas waits for the last moment to move his fingers, instantly triggering a shattering orgasm. Taken aback, Ilyana screams his name which echoes in this lonely clearing. Her body is raked by violent spasms. The apostate takes of his hand and embraces her to put her down on the ground and enter her roughly so he can enjoy the last contractions of her sex around his. But the pleasure is too strong and she tries to step back, to escape his powerful embrace, but Solas won’t let her. He thrusts again, deeper, her hip in his vice-like grip. His other hand closes on her throat and squeezes a bit too hard :
— You are my prey… and I for one won’t let you go.
Ilyana plunges in the mage’s misty eyes, unsure if she must fear him or let him do whatever he pleases. Stuck against her, he slowly undulates his groin, imprinting the shape of his shaft inside her. The elf’s mouth opens and twists in a silent cry while her flesh begs for more pleasure. Instinctively, her hands fly to her chest, but once again, Solas won’t have any of it. He grabs her two wrists and drags them above his head, exposing her pointy nipples to his kisses and nibbles. He greedily sucks on them, pulling on the soft skin in a jerky manner. Moans reaches again Ilyana’s lips. The apostate must hurry on his way to his own pleasure, though he enjoys every seconds of this moment. Without further ado, he turns his lover over so she stands on all four, facing the statue. Now his movements are deeper, more… beastly. Solas’ fingers tangle in her ebony hair, pulling her head down, opening a way for the sounds choking her throat, and Ilyana’s freed « haaa » only excites him even more. He wants to hear her come again and again. Penetrating her again, leaning against her back, he makes his hand find its way along her chest, close to her tit, then takes hold of her shoulder and whispers in her ear :
— You are mine…
Suddenly the elf gets out of her trance. In this single phrase, she can read the apostate’s lust, but also all his pain, his bitterness regarding past events of which he is the first responsible. For an answer, she simply puts her hand on the statue, holding on to it while spreading her legs, giving in to him. Solas presses himself against her again, letting his chin slides against her neck up to her nape, caressing it with his lips. His hot breath sets Ilyana on fire. Her sighs gets shorter, become more discreet, more fast, more high-pitched. As Solas’ thrusts gets faster, his open mouth gets closer ans closer to her fragile nape. Tension is getting at its tipping point when suddenly, he bites her like a beast. The dalish cries out in surprise and… pleasure, triggering her companion’s orgasm exploding in her. The bite only reinforces the shivers shaking Ilyana’s body. Without unclenching his teeth, Solas revels in this moment where she seems to be his for eternity.
The two lovers find themselves kneeling in front of the statue. They remain motionless a long time, in a relative silence only broken by Ilyana’s panting as she tries to catch up her breath. Solas rubs his forehead againt her skull, breathing in the scent of her hair. He follows her spine to kiss conscenciously the bite he inflicted on her in the heat of the moment and feels her beloved’s thights trembling. He slowly stretches her down in the cool grass and lies besides her. Their fingers entwines, he caresses her cheek and has a sweet, knowing smile.
— Vhenan…
EPILOGUE
The sun rises over the Arbor Wilds. A tevintid mage groans that he has to get up early to follow a bloody dumb halla on paths hard to identify. He longs for his cot and would gladly open a bottle of Mackay’s Epic Single Malt if only he had one at hand. The recent events gives him cause for concern : wise men from the four corners of Thedas are positive : two months ago, every elfic artefact have all gone crazy at the same time, shining like stars for a moment. Today, no one can explain what happened, but one thing they know for sure, the absence of the inquisitor and especially, more than anything, the return of her halla at Skyhold, alone, carrying most of her stuff, is a source of concern. The whole Inquisition is on the look-out and Dorian took the liberty to read the diary, carefully wrapped in the dalish’s infamous blanket that the animal was carrying. Since her story stops at the Mythal altar, naturally, that’s where the mage began his search, but he found nothing except that the place has known much degradation in a short amount of time. Today he is a bit lost. As ridiculous as this idea seems to be, he chooses to let the beast guide him. But in a few moments, the creature tends to take a wellknown direction and its step gets firmer as it gets closer to a gigantic cliff. When they arrive at the foot of this stone wall, the Tevintid notices a narrow hole in the cliff. He groans, disgusted at the idea of having to crawl in the dirt, then decides to throw a stonefist in order to make his own entrance.
— Ah, that’s much better ! I would not have ruin the beautyf…
But the mage’s train of thought is interrupted when he finds the clearing with Fen’harel’s statue. Furthermore, he does not feels at ease when a full pack of wolves, which he obviously has disturbed, comes to him.
— Hey, hey, hey, easy. I’m just passing through and I…
One beast, bigger than the others, comes close and sniffs the diary in his belt. Dorian backs away, fearing for his intimity, but quickly understand that the big male has other things on his mind. Instinctevely, the mage takes a bit of the cover and holds it before its snout. The beast sniffes the piece of cloth and stares at the mage with strange blue eyes. Softly, he grabs the cloth with his huge maw and drags him behind the statue. The Tevintid would like nothing more than yell at the creature, but common sense tells him to follow it without a peep. The beast turns on itself before lying down on the elfic cover with a contented groan.
On the other side of the monument, everything is the way it was left : the folded clothes, the fire now burned out… But instead of Solas, much to his surprise, the mage finds two entwined corpses, their bones blanched by the sun.He looks away out of respect when suddenly, a detail grabs his attention. A pendant is still hanging from the ribs of the taller of the two. Dorian refuses to believe his eyes and desperately looks for clues that will prove he’s wrong… Though Ilyana’s staff, lying a few meters away from this strange sepulcre, corroborates his fears. Ilyana, the Inquisitor… His friend, his confident… Is really there, lying at his feet. His heart goes to her, tears wells up in his eyes, and he falls down on his knees, holding out his hands to the second body as if he could embrace one last time the woman which supported him so many times, with whom he could laugh about anything, no matter how dire the situation, the woman… the mage… the elf… which he admired more than anyone in the world… In a cry of pain, Dorian curses the apostate who took away from him such a precious being, because he is sure Solas has something to do about it, he has to be guilty, he… But a detonation he knows everything about desounds in his hears, cutting short his delirious train of thoughts. A hand slowly lies down on his shoulder and shamelessly grabs it and hold it tight.
— The pain is unravelling. The pleasure is strong, the links reknown. Feet in the fresh grass, a sweet smile, an endless path. A dawn comes… She stretches, he follows her.
— Cole, I…
— They are happy…
Then the mage peers again at the rest of his friends. Obviously they look quite at peace, so he tries to calm down when foosteps announces other visitors. Vivienne, then Cullen and, a bit further, Abelas comes into view. In a heavy silence, they watch the scene and look at the ground. No word could describe the pain they feel. After a long moment of silent mourning, they get ready to leave the place when Abelas goes to the two bodies. Hidden under his dark hood, he raises his hand, then let something fall between the lovers’ bones. After hesitating for a long time, he puts another seed on the ground, then takes a step back and gives his spectators a knowing look. Vivien and Dorian comes standing on each side of him. Facing them, Cullen takes his sword out of its scabbard, buries the blade in the earth and goes down on one knee, ready to support the mages in their effort. Eyes closed in a prayer, Abelas intones a few millenia-old words, and magic begins flowing in. Two shapes appears in a vortex of light. The earth itself rises up to swallow corpses and seeds, taking with her the stream’s water, the pollens and the two ghostly apparitions. The ground shakes and the mages, reaching towards the vortex, letting magic flow through their outstretched hands, are the privileged witnesses of something very few humans have seen. Vines gets out of the ground, hugging closely to give out two magnificent tree trunks shooting for the sky while still entwining intimely until their top. Long branches stretches everywhere, and soon, it is impossible to tell which belongs to which tree. Buds sprouts slowly and a few flowers discreetly blossoms. Abelas closes his hand and whispers :
— Ma ghilana mir din’an…
Once the magic is over, Dorian steps down and puts his lady friend’s staff in the roots. Cole takes out the pendant to hangs it delicately to the fangs of one of the two snakes decorating Tyrrda’s weapon. After a last tribute, they all come back to Skyhold with a heavy heart, lost in thoughts, crippled with sadness. All of them… Except Abelas. He stands a long time in front of the two trees, motionless, fists clenched, throat dry. Then a new voice comes from the bottom of the clearing :
— Please, dont tell me that you are sad because of his passing ?
Without looking up, Abelas turns around and humbly kneels in front of the incoming witch.
— Andaran atish’an, Asha’belamar…
— Enough ! Don’t call me that ! And get up, this is ridiculous !
Abelas remains prostrate, staring at his feet, his face hidden under his hood. The elf’s stubborn docility gets on the woman’s nerve. She rips off his cape, revealing a mutilated face, looking as if some monstrous beast has ripped his skin with its claws. He remains prouly motionless, assuming her harsh gaze.
— Is it the fall of one of your so-called gods or the inquisitor’s death that makes you bitter ?
— Despite his ideals and actions, Fen’Harel was an exceptionnal elf, and very
few of us could emulate.
— Stop your antics ! I can see what eats you, more than the claws that damaged your skin. But Solas finally saw reality in the face : The elves’ time is over and your gods are obsolete in this world.
Abelas grits its teeth, unsure of what, in Morrigan’s mouth, hurts the most. But he can’t upset her, not her, who carries the last breath of Mythal herself. The witch has a disgusted noise and finally puts her hand on the arcan warior’s cheek. Thin lightnings shoots out of her fingers, stitching bluntly the flesh. Abelas fight the pain, refusing to let it overwhelm him, and only his ragged breathing tells of the torment heating his face. Then, from the tip of her fingers, Morrigan lifts up his chin, inviting him one last time to stand up. With much difficulty, the mage looks at her as she gets close to him, passing the back of her hand on his soft, silky skin.
— Do just like him… Move over.
But he lowers his head again, lost while so many things he thought permanent are collapsing around him. Then the witch parts the collar of his dark tunic, unveiling his handsome torso, and plants a smooth kiss on his lips :
— Let’s move on to something else…