Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cover by the wonderful irabelasvhenan. Her page here. 

Darkness and fire swallowed it all. Except her. Sparred again; alive yet unwell, flesh quivering with magic and terror.

The mournful howl of his death killed something within her though. It killed all kindness and shame and threw her into an alien, hollow place in her mind. She couldn't even look at Solas's broken form, or she'd die of pure heartache. 

All she had left was him - the blighted, fallen god before her, and she knew she stood no chance against him, not now with everyone else gone.

Ruin and death were around her, and the last chance at survival was Elgar'nan. But what survival was this? Blighted, mindless, erased, and gone. A fate worse than death, and he wanted her blighted and eternal, rather than dead. She would have to beg for death or do it herself, but she was not strong enough for that.

Legs shaking, breathing deeply, trying to get a semblance of control over her terrified body, she looked up at him, as the silence of death surrounded them. Those she loved were gone, and the one creature he held any trace of twisted affection for was gone too. Even his dragon was gone...

A bitter smile passed over her face. There was a strange connection here. A red thread of fate that had bonded her to both him and Solas from the beginning. The thread bonding her to Solas was now severed, and the very thought of it threatened to suffocate her.

Only one thread remained...

"And he is gone..." he whispered, his voice grating and hot like molten metal. "All you cherished is gone, as I have told you it shall be. Just me and you, and we are not so different after all..." His twisted joy laced every word, and she could taste it in the back of her mind.

"I'm nothing like you and I’ll never be. I am not falling here with you. I will not give in... I..." words left her as the thickness of the air filled her lungs, the air itself burning her throat and lungs.

"Oh, but you are... I told you before, and you still believe you can escape the truth. And now? What shall you do now?" he asked her, almost tenderly. "How will you resist now?" He descended and slowly walked towards her, each step igniting terror in her gut. "Now, now, no need to fear me. You have a choice! I know how much you value freedom, and I am offering it to you wholly. Join me, reign by my side as an equal. I am very capable of offering that to those who respect and obey me, as you have seen in both memories and with my sister. I offer fairness to those who are my equals in creed and valor."

He stopped mere steps away from her, but she kept her ground out of pure spite, though in truth, all she wanted was to run.

"There is another path you can take, of course. Just as noble as the first." He smiled softly, eyes burning crimson, face ruined by blight. "Fight me. Defeat me. Then you alone shall reign over all the ashes that surround us." he waved his hand reverently, as if there was an entire kingdom for her to inherit.

A knot twisted in her chest. He was right. There was nothing left, and the blight would only take over everything. With Solas gone, nothing would stop it. The Veil was soon to fall, and she was no match against Elgar'nan on her own. Even if she had a slim chance against him. What will she have left?

With a trembling breath, she let her body relax and, never taking her eyes away from his, she closed the distance between them, crushing the suffocating fear that his presence imbued her with. It did not matter now anymore...

"There's a third option," she said. "Kill me. Now. Right here," she nodded toward his red dagger. "Let's end this, and you can have it all. Be the god of ashes..."

"Capitulating so fast? Disappointing. I expected more of you..." the hand holding the dagger lifted slowly as if debating whether to plunge the blade into her or not. She decided to help and, possessed by fear and rage and all possible feelings she could not name, she grabbed his forearm and pointed his dagger at her chest. The corner of his mouth twitched in a cold smile. "A pity, but if this is how you want it to end, I shall offer that to you, lest you say I am anything but generous."

She closed her eyes, waiting for oblivion and release at last... but whatever true gods were there, they did not offer it to her. A flap of wings and a soft gust of wind stayed the blood-red blade that had already pierced through her leather trappings.

"Rook..." a familiar voice called, and an invisible force pulled her back.

"Ah, and one still lives," Elgar'nan roared, and a blaze of fire was released toward her. It singed off her hair and engulfed her before a magical shield fell over her in its place. She opened her eyes to see the flames lick the invisible barrier hungrily, but unable to reach her, and beyond it...

"Morrigan..." she called out. The woman was defiantly standing just beyond the shield, small and fragile in front of Elgar'nan's hulking presence.

Rook's whole body was aching, and the skin on her right arm was burned black. She tried getting up, but fell back down on the merciless stone.

Morrigan's body jerked, her spine bent back, and a cold light erupted from her chest. Rook gasped as a translucent figure materialized right before her.

She was far larger than she remembered her from the Crossroads, towering over Elgar'nan. Deep in her heart, Rook knew this was all for show, a manifestation meant to intimidate, and unlike what her material form used to be.

Mythal.

"You!" For the first time, Elgar'nan's voice sounded almost scared? Overwhelmed by something for once, "The hour is late, Mythal! It is over, and it has been so for a long time. You shall not ruin it all again!"

"Look at you, my friend. What you were and what you have become. The things you wished to accomplish and what you reign over now. Once light and glory, now darkness and failure."

Elgar'nan swung his blade in one sharp twist towards her, but it passed right through the pure light that formed her body.

"You killed me once. You cannot kill me again. Not with the wits you are now left with, or lack thereof..." she whispered, the echoing disembodied voice not hiding her disgust.

Rook remembered Solas mocking Elgar'nan about the loss of his once superior intellect to the Blight and for a moment wondered what would have been had the ancient elves not fallen the way they did. No use lamenting what was forever lost.

"I shall kill your thrall, and you will be gone forever," he said, releasing another surge of blinding, searing hot magic. She couldn't even tell if it was fire, or lightning, or both at the same time. All she knew was that, despite the shield surrounding her, it made her blood bubble and her very flesh vibrate, ready to disintegrate into millions of minuscule fragments.

She gasped and screeched, and after the maddening, unspeakable sensation passed, she desperately looked to see if Morrigan was still alive. She was. Somehow.

Mythal was still there, floating and untouchable. Mocking him with her ethereal light and presence.

"She is not my thrall. Had you learned what it means to have a deep bond with someone who you deemed beneath you, you'd have understood that. She is willing and here for me, and for the world itself." Mythal spoke, and Morrigan wrapped herself in a shield, not unlike the one around Rook.

"Maybe I shall learn, in my way with her." His voice was low, sharp, and he turned his attention to Rook once more. When he advanced on her and lifted his hand to cast another spell, her blood ran cold, despite the unbearable heat of everything around her.

No, no, no, no, she thought to herself, and scrambled back as far away from him as she could.

At that moment, several things happened at once, and later she would have a hard time making sense of it all. Morrigan called out her name, her real name, this time, not Rook. It compelled her, and she remembered the power of given names. Elgar'nan had tried to get it out of her as well, but she resisted. This time, he heard it and stopped advancing on her, frozen in place for a breath, his expression unfathomable. It was enough for Morrigan to rush to her; the two shields that cloaked them united as one with a short whoosh when the other woman was by her side.

"Listen to me. There's no other way, and I will apologize in advance for what I'm about to do..." Morrigan rushed the words out. The last thing Rook saw, before being pulled into an eternal fall, were Mythal's ethereal eyes, widened, alit with power.

***

There was pain, surging, tearing, ripping through flesh and bone, but there were also voices and words, most of which she could not understand. Strange tongues in an abyss of nothingness filled her mind and heart with incomprehensible emotions and thoughts that did not belong to her.

One voice stood out amongst them all. Mythal.

"Child, I apologize for what I had to do, and I apologize for forcing you, but I believe you understand why there was no other chance for you. Your fate was sealed when you first stepped onto this path. Do what you must. Do it all. Whatever it takes," pain and heartache, not her own, ran over her like a cold sea wave. "And I apologize in advance for what you will see of me. I lament it eternally. Only understanding mortality offered me the kindness I thought defined me. Be kind to him, as well. Please."

The words faded, and that last plea echoed over and over in her mind. Please, please, please... She knew who she meant, and her pain joined Mythal's.

Solas...

She knew this was the end, her death to the world she had known, but she also knew what was happening to her and that this death was a rebirth.

Perhaps the fragment of Mythal that she had held within her for just a few hours after the Crossroads meeting, carved at least a little of her conscience within her, a drop of the false goddess' will, or perhaps the knowledge was imbued in the very fabric of the ether she was falling through at that moment. Regardless, she just knew.

When she finally felt the physicality of the very air around her, the factual, real, and palpable of existence itself, rather than the nothingness she had been part of, she also became aware of her body. She wasn't just an eternally falling conscience, but a being made of flesh that had slowly woven itself back from the very earth and soil where she had fallen.

A soul for a soul. A fair exchange, Mythal's voice was carried by a soft breeze that ran over her face to awaken her.

Her fingers twitched over soft blades of grass, and her lungs thirstily gulped the balmy air. Before opening her eyes, light the color of honey danced on her eyelids. The air smelled of unnamed flowers, dark, fertile soil, and rain after a storm. She had never smelled anything like it, and as her eyes finally opened, she knew she had never seen anything like it either.

Arlathan... her mind whispered reverently.

She braced on the slippery grass and stood, slowly, gingerly, her knees wobbling as if she were a newborn deer. The trees were reaching up to the skies, in heavy, vivid green boughs. Species she had never seen or heard of. Some were golden, others bore fruit of red and yellow, and the air itself glowed in scintillating particles that shifted and moved as if the forest breathed them in and out.

It was dizzying, overwhelming in its incomprehensible beauty, and she searched for something that would ground her. She looked at her own body for a moment, fearing it wasn't her own, but was relieved to recognize the same hands and arms. She touched her hair, and it felt the same as well, even the missing piece that Elgar'nan's magic had singed off had regrown. She caught a lock between her fingers and looked at it - the same color. She was herself, and it was a relief. In the world she had been born and raised in, there was no more trace of her, she knew, but her last anchor was herself, and the thought that she had maybe been reborn into a different body, terrified her.

As always, as it had always been, all she had was herself.

Her clothes, though, were different. The ruined Veil Jumper leather trappings were gone, and in their place, she wore a long, flimsy, white dress. It had fine silver and gold thread woven within it, but otherwise, it was simple and rather straight, falling just below her knees. Her feet were bare, and she didn't expect it otherwise.

Each step was painful; the wounds she had suffered, though gone, still left their ghostly imprint in her flesh. She walked towards what seemed to be a clearing just beyond the crowded bushes and trees. White flowers dotted the path towards the clearing, and she pushed them away softly, for some reason afraid to step on them and destroy them.

The clearing was bright, blindingly so, and when her eyes adjusted to the sun, a magnificent city opened before her. She had spent enough time in the ruins of Arlathan to recognize everything, even if the city, now in its prime, was thrice as large. Numerous towers glinted on the horizon as far as her eyes could see, and isles with various other constructions floated above it all. Between her and the city, a deep gorge and a sea of trees stood. She would have to trek through it and hope she came out alive, though the trust Mythal put in her was reassuring. She wouldn't possibly send her here if she didn't know she could survive and change the course of history.

Then again, she was the last survivor. Maybe Mythal just didn't have a better choice - a traitorous, self-hating voice whispered in her mind. She pushed it away. She had made enough mistakes, had failed everyone; she would not do that again.

To her left, following the gorge, a forest path snaked, and gilded torches stood like sentinels, alighting it in a soft glow; its floor covered by a soft carpet of golden leaves.

It all seemed safe, and her fears melted away, until the ground vibrated with the gallop of horses. She stopped, heart rising in her throat. She did not need this, not now. What would she say? Who was she? What was her name? She hadn't had time to make up a story for herself, and she looked...positively pathetic, in her strange, white nightgown, or whatever it was.

There was only one thing to do. Hide? Run? Both?

She settled on both, and after deciding the direction from which the gallop was coming, she chose the opposite one. They were coming from ahead of her, so sadly, the beautifully lighted and soft-floored path had to be left behind, and she had to choose the one behind it, which was overgrown with brambles, steep and rocky.

If there were rocks, bushes, and thorns, horses could not enter, and there were also places to hide, she decided, and sprang into a breathless race.

"There!" a voice called out in Elven, one of the few words she knew of this strange language that, in all her stay in Thedas, she still couldn't fully grasp. She cursed herself once more. How will she communicate with them?

It was all a mess, and it didn't help that when she jumped from the pretty clearing she had admired earlier, briers and thorns nipped and tore the skin on her ankles and calves. She gritted her teeth, but couldn't contain the small yelp that escaped her at the searing pain. She looked at the source of pain, and wild roses, pink and heavy with blooms, greeted her. She had painted some of their leaves and blooms in her blood and knew the riders would see it.

The voices called out again, and her attention was drawn away from the flowers. They had been alerted by the sound she made, and she cursed herself.

Men. They were men, and plenty of them, riding big, fast horses, by the sound of it.

She scrambled up the thorny, rocky hill and by some miracle managed to slip between the dense bushes and into the darkness of the forest above. She didn't stop. All pain was gone as adrenaline filled and fueled her body.

Dense forest with impossibly tall trees opened before her, and there were no paths, nor pretty lanterns to soften her journey. Just wilderness and thicket and even more flowering briers - a sea of them. Relieving in a way, because horses had trouble walking through such terrain. Though they had somehow climbed through rocks and thorns, she thought to herself.

The voices and gallops approached, and she continued running, treading between thin pale trunks, going in zigzags, changing directions, hoping she'd lose them. When she arrived at a tall cliff, lined with other flowering bushes, this time mercilessly free of thorns, fear filled her. Where would she go? And of course, the gallops kept approaching, and so did the voices. This time, they were laughing.

Laughing? Anger filled her. How dare they laugh while hunting her? Or maybe they thought she was an animal or an escaped slave? Either way, this was not the best entrance into Arlathan that she could have had. It should have been discreet, well-planned, with intent and purpose, not as some sort of trophy or prisoner.

She remembered legends of Ancient Arlathan hunts, but worst of all, she remembered Bellara's dirty books about the same occurrences... A wild combination of sadness, fear, and amusement filled her at the memory, just as she decided the only hope she had left was in the flowering bushes.

Yet again, this was all an utter mess, and she just wanted to crawl in some burrow and sleep for a thousand years, like Solas.

Since no burrows were in the vicinity, and neither did she have the luxury of oblivion, she chose the bushes and slid between them. Thankfully, they were as tall as her and extremely thick. She might just stand a chance, she decided, as she settled in the depths of the vegetation, closest to the cliff face.

Through the leaves, she could see the trees she had come through just seconds before, and she kept her eyes on them, not breathing, not even thinking. Ancient Elves were presumably imbued with magic and most likely could read thoughts, like Solas did when he was in her head. Yet again, painful memories she had to push away assaulted her.

In these ancient times, he was still alive, she would see him again and, most importantly, save him from himself.

The sounds approaching pulled her from her thoughts, and she saw movement. Flitting and fast, like ghosts between the pale tree trunks, the horses were moved closer, and when they finally reached the small clearing before the cliff face, a gasp almost escaped her.

These were no mere horses, she thought to herself, part horrified, part amazed. They were Halla! Huge male Hallas, with twisting, glorious horns, the thickness of tree branches, wide chests, and large, strong heads. So much different from the fragile, fading things she had known in her timeline. They were the size of full-grown elk and just as intimidating. She clasped her hand over her mouth to swallow the gasp threatening to escape.

There were two of them, each carrying an equally impressive-looking elf.

"Dead end," the elf on the right said. A tall, angular, blonde one, wrapped in a silky tunic, with a fur collar that swept across one shoulder regally. "I am, though, certain this is the way they went. Erfian thinks the same," he added, patting the Halla, who looked absurdly smug as he leaned into his rider's hand.

"Indeed. I agree and so does Iriln," added the second elf, and she knew him. Felassan, Solas's friend, general, and ultimately, one of his sacrifices.
He was different from how she remembered him, wearing a light smile on his lips, and a periwinkle tunic, contrasting sharply against his copper skin.

The Hallas were adorned with gold-green bridles and matching saddles, though different from those used on horses. They were smaller in proportion to the animal and less bulky. Or maybe the Ancient Elves themselves didn't need as much padding as they did as mortals.

"This is the place," a third voice called, and she recognized it immediately. That second red thread immediately unfurled in her heart, and she wished she could look away, not let herself be affected by what she was about to see. That was impossible, though, and, in truth, she didn't want it either. She needed to look. 

His Halla was slightly darker, gray rather than white, and its horns were black.

He guided it around her left, slowly, methodically, his sharp eyes sweeping over everything and most likely knowing exactly where she was. His hair was long, the color of autumn leaves, with no shaved sides yet, just gleaming, straight waves of dark copper falling over the rich gray fur adorning his neck and chest. He wore rather simple leather armor, rich brown, decorated in golden thread. He proudly wore Mythal's vallaslin, just like Fellasan. 

Pain anew cut through her chest at the sight of him. He was...beautiful. Unscarred, unbroken, as he was supposed to be. How would she resist not telling him everything? She knew she was supposed to do this right and not mess with the timeline more than she had to, and yet, at that moment, all she wanted was to jump from her hiding place and embrace him. Their relationship during the struggles they faced with the Veilguard had carved deep marks within her, and the complicated feelings they shared lingered in her soul.

"She is here..." he smiled. "No need to search anymore," he added and guided his mount just mere steps away from her.

That is when she noticed he was carrying a whole...tree branch? No! It was the brier she had bled on, she realized with a strange feeling of sickness twisting in her gut. The very one with her blood on it was now in his hand, and he was lifting it in the air like some trophy.

"I guess we have the winner...and the loser," he said with a sharp smile in the corner of his mouth. The other men laughed again, fully, from deep in their bellies, as if the joke of the century had been said. Solas strapped the blooming branch to his saddle and then, in one sweeping jump, he was off his halla. He pulled out a gleaming sword from his scabbard and advanced towards her.

A wave of suffocating dread washed over her, and her body went flush with the cool stone behind her. Was she some sort of sacrifice, she wondered wildly?

"It is only fair you walk out willingly, da'len. You lost...or won, depending on how you behave..." he said, slowly walking towards her. The other two men chuckled again.

She didn't want to give in and, as utterly unhinged as it sounded even to herself, she still had hope that she could escape, and so she acted on it.

Hugging the cliff, she broke off running in the opposite direction. It didn't matter that they could now clearly hear her, and the sound she made was not unlike that of a stampede of nugs. She had to try, one last time, and not go down without a fight, or rather, without a healthy, honest run.

A deep sigh was all the reaction she got from him, and as she almost, almost turned a corner around the cliff, a strong, warm hand wrapped around her upper arm. It was so swift that she didn't have time to process, or even understand how and when he reached her, but he did.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat for a second before she struggled against him again and, for the first time since arriving here, she used her magic. A small, very weak surge of light erupted from her palm, and she placed it on his sword arm. Her magic was flimsy without a focus object, or at least a staff, but it stung him enough that he released her for just a breath. It was enough for her to slip out of his grip and run away again, but also fruitless because he once again caught her, and this time he did use his sword. Not to hurt her, but to scare her.

He twisted her hand back and placed the coolness of his blade against her neck.

"Well, what a fitting catch for the one you're destined for. For once, the trees chose right," he said harshly, the amused tone not leaving his voice. "Now, you will come willingly, or I will just have to make you. Choose right."

Her body was in fight-or-flight, but more appropriately, it was flight. All she wanted to do was run.

"That sword isn't helping. Maybe if you didn't have a blade at my neck, I'd consider being calm," she hissed, trying hard to hide the trembling in her voice. "And even then, why should I do what you say?"

She acted without reason again. She shouldn't behave as if she didn't know what all this was. She had a part to play, and play it she would.

He had told her before, time and time again, that her impulsivity would be her end. She remembered that and reigned herself in. The long conversations they held in the Prison of Regrets seemed centuries ago, but she remembered each one and clung to them desperately.

"Surely, you are aware that opposing the Hunt leads nowhere," he spoke in her ear, an iron grip on her wrists. "So, you either come willingly or not. I know you may not want to be here, but opposing it will lead to regrettable consequences. In all honesty, I advise you to..." he paused and swallowed thickly. "obey. For your good."

"She's perfect for him. Ahaha!" laughed one of the men from behind them. "Rarely do we get such a blessing."

Solas sighed softly, so low that they surely didn't hear him.

"Indeed..." he added, and then swiftly turned her around to face him.

He ostentatiously slid his sword back into its scabbard and nodded his head, as if to prove how harmless he was.

She looked at him at last. Really, truly looked at him. The same lavender eyes stared back, the same sweep to his eyebrows and the same mouth, and yet... It was not him. Not the Solas she knew. In her time, he had not aged, and yet he had. His immortality kept his skin smooth, yet his experiences and actions had carved invisible lines upon his very essence for an eternity. That pain that defined him was missing now, or almost. She could see signs of it; she could see how he would become the man she knew. She could see how one day he would become the man she had come to respect and even more than that...

She took a shaky breath in and bowed her head in defeat.

"I... You are right. But I must ask one question."

"Of course," he said, his face relaxing in an easy smile.

"The branch...," her mind put all the clues together quickly, running all the possibilities at once. It had something to do with her blood, most likely. "Did I? Did I bleed elsewhere?"

Her question seemed to have convinced him of something because he nodded with a mysterious smile.

"You have not..." he declared, his hands on his waist. "Just on the wild rose brier. You do know what that means, do you not?"

Her mind reeled with memories from her past life. She had been captured in the ruins of Arlathan by Elgar'nan, and he had tried severing the connection she had with Solas and replacing it with his own. He did not succeed, but he kept her locked in a cage made of blight and dead brambles until she was saved. The rose briers, the thorns...his vallaslin... She swallowed and looked up into his lilac eyes pleadingly.

"No," she all but cried out. "No, no, no..." she chanted.

"There's...nothing you can do about it..." he stopped and looked at her with pity in his eyes, pity she did not want. The men behind started guffawing again, and she had had enough of the mockery, so with a swift gesture of her hand, she sent a surge of fire towards them. Not intending to do damage, but rather to make them shut up. It didn't work because they just ducked out of the line of fire and continued laughing.

"Stop it!!" she screamed at them, and Solas sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"If that is how you want it, it shall be given to you. Again, for your own good," he said, and without much preamble, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, as if she were a gutted boar.

Her fruitless protests only elicited more laughs from the other two men and, to keep a semblance of dignity, she stopped screaming and writhing.

Solas unceremoniously threw her across his Halla and effortlessly jumped behind her. She wasn't even sat properly, but rather on her belly, ass up, across the saddle, and he didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with that, as he pulled the bridles and turned the animal around.

"May I at least sit properly on this thing?"

"This is not a thing. His name is Fendramal, and I advise you to stay on his good side." His leathered knee was poking into her ribs and she held on for dear life to the straps on the saddle, all the blood pooling into her head. "He has a temper..." he added with a laugh.

"So do I, and I want to sit normally."

"Of course, you have a temper. I wouldn't expect anything less from Elgar'nan's chosen."

Fear gripped her at his words again. Confirmation of what she feared and was still in denial about.

"I am not..." She stopped, once more remembering that she must control herself. "Regardless of who and what I am, I want to sit upright."

He sighed and pulled the reins on the Halla, stopping it in its tracks so suddenly that she started slipping off the saddle, but he grabbed her before she'd land on her face. With another of his irritating sighs, he helped her up and effortlessly plopped her in front of him, astride the halla as she was supposed to be.

The flimsy gown she had on had ridden up her thighs and was cutting into her flesh, twisted as it was from all the manhandling she had to suffer through. She huffed in annoyance as she pulled at it, righting it back into its place.

"Better?" he asked as he took the reins back into his hands and with one short snap, Fendramal started walking again, elegantly, smugly, just like his rider.

"Yes, much better..." she mumbled to herself.

The other two men followed, talking amongst themselves about things she couldn't process at that moment because she suddenly realized that no other language but Elven had been spoken, which she understood perfectly and even answered back. The terror and confusion that had imbued her during the chase blinded her from what was right in front of her. She had been speaking fluent Elven for the past half an hour.

Mythal's words, "a life for a life," haunted her. What did they mean?

Chapter Text

In awkward silence, they returned to the path illuminated by torches that she had yearned for earlier. They soon entered the darkness of the woods, and the scent of pine assaulted her, infusing a sense of calm within her.

These were no common pines. Balmy conifers tangled with roses and basil and other deeper notes she couldn't put into words. The fragrance was dizzying and altogether mesmerizing.

"I am glad we eventually understood each other." his voice broke the spell.

He was taking great care not to touch her more than he had to; his arms loosely holding the reins around her body.

In her cursed timeline, their entanglement was quite complicated, and the relationship they had made his proximity comfortable, but she had to remind herself over and over that this was not the Solas she knew. This was a stranger, so she behaved accordingly, leaning away from his body as much as she could.

"We would have from the start, had you not chased me like some wild animal..."

"It is a Hunt. Appointed participants are meant to be sought and found. Today it is you, yesterday was another, and tomorrow yet another shall find their way into our hands," he said leisurely, as if chasing sentient beings through the woods like wild animals was the most natural thing in the world.

Hunt. The word kindled a strange excitement in her gut, which was maybe a good thing. At the very least, she could enjoy whatever it was that was about to happen to her.

She had always been one to welcome new experiences, thirsty for life and joy, wanting to have it all and now. What harm could come from enjoying some festivities, she thought while greedily inhaling the new scents of the woods - apples and roses and spring blooms, along with the darkness of fresh tiled earth. It was heady and it made her mouth water and her body soften. The old pains etched into her flesh melted away and were replaced by the kind of satisfaction one feels after a long fight, followed by a full belly, a hot bath and a soft bed.

She sighed deeply, and her eyelids fluttered, which would have probably been inconsequential, had her body not leaned into Solas's chest.

There was a small thought that she should probably sit upright, but it was drowned by the satisfaction that filled every fiber of her being.

Oh, it now smelled like home! Like the streams and oak forests of her father's land.. Ah, and Lucanis' coffee... Neve's parchments, the books at the Lighthouse library... The...

"The Dream Woods. Remember, during the festival, you don't end up here all on your lonesome. They shall turn you...vulnerable," he whispered, mirth lacing his words.

"Let us move, Solas!" one of the men called out and galloped closer to them. It was Felassan, and when she looked at him, he had a halo of pure light around his face. She smiled at him, and he gave her a rakish grin in return. "The last time here we had a little bit too much entertainment..." he trailed off and winked playfully at Solas, who responded with a chuckle.

"Indeed, my friend. We have time for that some other day," Solas said before urging the Halla on faster.

It all felt wonderful and even Solas relaxed behind her, so she knew it wouldn't hurt to ask some questions now when everything was going oh so well.

"Well, what would have happened had I escaped?" she asked.

"There’s no such thing. The catch is not the goal, but rather the selection is. The rose brier chose you, and you bled on it. Had you bled on another tree, like the Hawthorn, a different fate would have awaited you."

"What about the Wolfberry? What would have happened if the Wolfberry chose me?"

He laughed, and the sound resonated up her spine.

"Again, no such thing. The Wolfberry is not amongst the blessed trees. An interesting question, most assuredly..."

Her head was swimming with whatever the woods were doing to her, and a giggle erupted from her throat as they trotted away faster.

"So, everyone has a tree... That's lovely. I wonder what tree I'd have..."

"Ask yourself that again after we leave the woods, or better yet, after the festival."

"Can I have these pines? The crazy pines?" She leaned forward, inhaling a mouthful, no lungful, of the balmy, shimmering air.

He chuckled and clicked his tongue. "The 'crazy' pines are already claimed by Lady Sylaise. Alas, you would have been more fortunate had the pines chosen you..."

"How would they choose me? How would they make me bleed? I see no thorns, and I wouldn't climb them."

"Not all blessed trees require spilled blood. The Brier and the Hawthorn is singular in that sense. Sylaise's pines simply embrace you, enchant you, offer you a path home, and remembrance of things which have been lost. They show you the roots. Your roots, your hearth."

“Who does the Hawthorn belong to?” she asked, unable to resist her curiosity.

Solas was silent, as if pondering the question, or rather formulating the right answer, and then uttered reverently, “The Allmother, blessed lady Mythal. The Hawthorn is her grace’s hallowed tree…”

“And the pines lady Sylaise’s…” she whispered thoughtfully. It was surprising how such wild, rather unassuming shrubs, as the brier and the hawthorn would represent the Allfather and the Allmother, while the noble pine, was claimed by a supposedly lower Evanuris.

“Indeed…,” murmured Solas.

"Wonderful... You know, I almost walked towards the pines, but I heard you and your men galloping, so I went in the opposite direction and into the briers." the feeling of safety melted away for a moment and unreasonable anger took over. It was as if the forest was enhancing all her deepest desires and emotions. "Whatever this 'claiming' entails, it’s your fault."

"If you tripped and fell into the thorns, would you blame the tree roots growing across your path? It is mere chance, and I am not answerable to it. You could just as well have ran in the other direction, free of brambles, which didn't require climbing. Alas, you chose the hard way, and are rewarded accordingly."

"You are doing the hunting... You should..."

"I should what? Not hunt," he asked with amusement in his voice. "We didn't know you were here until you decided to make a ruckus."

Her head was suddenly as light as a feather, and she tipped over to her right. He propped her up with his armored arm and another aggravated 'tsk'.

"We must get out of these woods..." he called out to his men and laughed along with them this time. Not a belly laugh, like the ones his companions had been indulging in at her expense, but close enough.

"Been trying to tell you, Solas, but we suspected you wanted to enjoy the Allfather's chosen before her big day. It is your yearly your tradition after all..." this was the other elf, Indril. He trotted by, a grin on his face and a golden light around him.

Big day? Cold panic ran through her for just a moment, and she turned towards Solas, seeing him for the first time since he had thrown her over the Halla.

He....shone. Not unlike Indril, or Felassan, yet different. A low, pulsating, scintillating lilac glow was emanating from him, and his skin had the sheen of polished alabaster. His eyes were amethysts, with the knowledge and pain of centuries that her mortal mind could not fathom.

She stared at him, all shame gone, yet replaced by errant memories.

After the gap between them kept shrinking, and they could reach each other, there came a time when his scent followed her everywhere – thunder, ice, and ether, laced with the smoke of cedars and well-seasoned pelts and furs of wild animals.

Familiarity and safety again, and all she wanted was to cling to him, but the last remnants of self-control she still had stopped her hands, and she clutched her thin shift that sat askew over her thighs.

He looked at her and gave her a smile that she could not decipher, yet it made her heart flutter.

"You look..." she started, but he nodded his head 'no'.

"It doesn't matter how I look," he said, breaking eye contact, and with a short whip of the bridle and a soft command to the Halla, they broke off into a wild ride. "Just don't look and hold fast."

For a moment, it felt like half of her lingered behind, while the other was flying away. She yelped and scrambled to find anything to hold on to, and since nothing was in her reach, she grabbed onto his thighs, sinking her nails into the thick leather.

Her muddled mind wildly noted the hardness of his muscles. They were really, very, splendidly hard, as if she was trying to grab and hold onto smooth tree limbs.

Flutters of excitement and amusement ran through her body at the very thought of it. She would never not be affected by him, and whatever Syalise's pines were doing to her only made it worse, or maybe better… The ridiculousness of it all would have been awkward in other circumstances, but now it was freeing, perfect.

He chuckled into her ear, giving her a case of full-body goosebumps. This was not the Solas she had known, or maybe the same one, but concentrated, times one hundred Solas. The Solas she had heard of from legends and myths.

Unbridled joy and lust for life bubbled in her chest. She would not fail him again, she promised herself. She had failed everyone before and hard. This time, no matter what happened, mysterious festivals, Elgar'nan's eternal shadow over her, Mythal's magic, the Allmother’s presence or lack thereof, she would not fail him.

With that oath in mind and soul, she released all pretense, and let her head fall back onto his soft, furred shoulder.

"I promise..." she said, and he heard it. She knew he did, as his body stilled, even though the Halla was still racing wildly, woods fading into dark greens around them.

His arms flexed around her and his chin rested on her shoulder, but he did not say anything further, just urged the Halla even faster, the speed blurring her thoughts into a mess of yearning and pain and regrets.

She just wanted to go home, but he was her home now. He had always been her home. Somehow in the eternity of existence and creation itself, she had been bonded to him and the clarity that the Pines were offering was undeniable.

She wept. Silently, or maybe loudly. Nothing mattered, only that they both knew... Somehow they both knew, she was sure of that. Their bodies knew, their very essence and what made them who they were, knew...

The darkness of oaths that might have just as well been written in blood, was shattered by the light of the sun, as they rode out of the forest, and into a vast clearing, dotted here and there by centenarian oaks.

Her tears had dried, but the effects of the pine forest did not go away so fast.

"Who are you?" a cautious, yet very confident voice asked. His voice.

And she wanted to tell him everything, yet again, for the nth time since they met. Despite betrayals, he had been her confidante and the one person who cared for her well-being when the world was ending. It felt natural, and her heart yearned for his support.

The remains of her rational mind cried out for her to stop being ridiculous and she listened. For now...

"Just the day’s hunt. The Brier's chosen..." she whispered.

"I see," he whispered back, just as the other men were approaching. Their Hallas keened in joy as they stopped beside them. "Some other time then," he asked, and she looked over her shoulder at him. His glow was slowly slipping away, but it didn't leave him any less beautiful.

He winked. Such a strange thing from him, so she laughed.

"Some other time," she agreed with a small incline of her head and a smile that was only for him. He stared at her longer than he should have and she had to look away.

Indril and Felassan rode in front, their golden light dimming in the sunlight.

"The others are waiting for us, and I am in need of a true hunt. Boars are plentiful and their tusks golden! Let's take her to her quarters and then return to our tasks." Felassan called back over his shoulder, hair caught by the wind.

The 'task' had invisible quotation marks around it. They just wanted to have fun, she knew it, and with the remaining shadows of the pine's touch, she was close to asking them if she could join them. The idea of being limited to some 'quarters' really didn't sit well with her, though, yet again she had a role to play, so she bit her tongue and let her eyes wander in the distance.

They were approaching Arlathan and the beauty unraveled before them, took her breath away.

Spires, towers and floating isles of gold and marble, opened in a feast for the eyes. They were pure white and gold, decorated by the lively greens of the vegetation growing in perfect harmony with all the things that had been built by the hands of gods and immortals.

Further away, all but concealed by sunset clouds of pink and purple, a great tree rose, like an old king on his great throne. When her eyes first opened to this realm, she had not seen the tree, or maybe then she was still not ready to see it, and after the trials she faced in the forest, permission had been granted.

"Arlathan, the immortal," Solas whispered reverently, only for her ears to hear.

She could add nothing more, so she stayed silent, devouring everything before her eyes.

He did not prod, as was his way, rather just led his Halla after Indril's and Felassan’s, and so they traveled in the twilight for a while; time which she could not measure nor fully comprehend, but yet again she pushed all her fears away. She could afford that luxury, at the very least, while she was still with him, on the Halla, away from it all.

They approached gilded gates that rose almost up to the clouds, and for a moment she had forgot how to breathe. Their height was hard to put into words. All she knew was that they were decorated with intricate motifs and scenes, the likes of which she had never laid eyes upon.
Fantastic animals tangled in fight, some half men, half beasts, celestial bodies clashing and forming glorious, horned, winged beings, wars and battles sprawled alongside various symbols, like the rope and the sun. Solar and moon symbols reigned above the gate and adorned the heavy, golden handles.

The massive gates moved on their own and all three rode into something that would stay with her for all eternity.

The street extending from the entrance was as golden as the grand gates, with intricate red mosaics on both its sides, slithering up into vines bearing red flowers.

Her eyes rose to buildings that defied gravity and seemed to have sprouted from the ground itself. No mortal could build such a thing, she thought to herself, just as she remembered that Ancient Arlathan had been born into existence with pure, extremely powerful magic.

Elves of all ages walked out of their golden tree houses and cheered. She looked at them with a startle that she could not hide.

"They are glad the Hunt was fruitful once more. Do not fear," Solas said, yet still cautiously looking around. She glanced away from his eyes and at the people around them, who were all eerily beautiful.

They threw flower petals in their path from the tree platforms above. She was welcomed like a queen for the achievement of being caught by the Hunt.

"Everyone who has been chosen is received thus," Solas said over her shoulder.

"Is this your way of telling me I'm not so special?"

"Rest assured, in the position you found yourself in, it is better to avoid being special..." his retort was once again laced with amusement, but she knew he wasn't joking.

The air of celebration permeated everything, hung in the air, pulsating with excitement and mirth in every face she saw.

The decorations were sumptuous; huge garlands of flowers hung from every window and fireflies flitted everywhere, alighting the shaded pathways.

From the hill, the city was indeed magnificent, yet not all that different from any other she had seen in her previous life, built of stone and metals. Once inside it though, it revealed itself to be a forest of various types of trees, while the buildings themselves were part of them. As if both tree and masonry grew together in harmony, from the same matter and directly from the soil beneath their feet.

It was a maze of root and marble, branch and gilded archway, leaf and window.

A low hum vibrated from the matter itself, and it was accompanied by very soft, slightly off tune bell sounds. If she hadn't been sure she was wide awake this time, she'd have thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, or she had got drunk of pines again.

The beauty was not only in the material, but also shaped by illusion. Magic made some walls transparent from one angle and opaque from another. Upon a closer look, the lighting fixtures were fireflies gathered together in globes that seemed made of glass, but it was something more similar to a magical shield.

She remembered the many stray fireflies in the ruins of Arlathan. Were they the ancestors of the ones that filled every street corner here? Were they even fireflies?

They passed a market brimming with life and extraordinary produce. Trinkets and weapons she could not recognize filled every stall and in the center a large table overflowing with fruit was laid out and everyone would just take what they wanted off of it. Before she could gawk more, they took a turn on a wider street, lined with gigantic tree roots, as white as snow.

"One moon will pass until Midsummer. There is time to wander, don't fret," Solas said.

"Is it safe to wander?"

"Arlathan is safe for any elf..." he answered, and she didn't want to question further.

The gigantic tree she had seen from afar was not visible from where she was now. She somehow suspected that they were walking on its roots, because the road got uneven in places, the mosaic wrapping over round shapes that seemed to grow underneath it.

The building they reached rose at the base of the trunk of another pale tree and, just like the others, twisted around it, rising up to its canopy in platforms and spiraling staircases.

Solas pulled the reins of the Halla and hopped off, helping her down as well and then unstrapped the branch with her blood on it, carrying it with him. The other men stayed mounted, but he gestured with the branch for her to climb the stairs in front of her.

The arched doors were decorated with the same heavy boughs of flowers that adorned each building, but when they walked in, it looked more like a temple. The only light sources on the long hallway were the same globes filled with fireflies and up in front was an immense statue, with smaller statues and fountains surrounding it.

The floor mosaic was magnificent suns and moons, shining in gold and silver and the statues were unmistakable.

The Evanuris.

In the center a woman and a man, standing side by side, one crowned with a silver moon and the other with a golden half-sun. Mythal and Elgar'nan.

The smaller ones represented all the other gods, and she recognized Andruil, holding a brass bow and Ghilan'nain, with a marble Halla at her feet.

They entered a large, round inner garden and Solas directed her to the left. The walkway curving around the inner garden had doors, each with the symbol of a god above them.

When they stopped in front of the one right in the center of the walkway, with a sun above it, reality once again struck her and she felt slightly sick.

It was easy to get lost in the unutterable beauty of it all and forget that the ritual she had fallen straight into might lead to something twisted.

Mythal would never try saving the world and throw her to her death, would she? The goddess hadn't spoken a word since she had arrived here, and she decided that she'd have to somehow reach out to her, if that was possible.

The piece she had carried from the Crossroads was still within her, there had to be a way to communicate with it. Even though the trip back in time had ripped her to pieces and then reassembled her. Would that fragment still be within her?

"Here you are," Solas's whispered, before rapping softly on the door three times.

"Can I ask you one quick question?" She turned to him, barely hiding the trembling in her voice.

He measured her for a moment before nodding.

"What do the festivities entail? And will I see you again?" she dropped all pretenses, somehow knowing in her gut that she could trust him, if not with everything, at least with parts of the truth.

"Surely, you must know what the Sun festival is." he looked slightly confused but calculating. "Midsummer? The new year?"

"Yes, of course. Midsummer... I mean what will happen to me?"

A shadow of something passed over his face. It was barely there, but she knew him too well to not see it.

"It depends... There will be a grand feast on the day the sun is at its highest strength and the days are longest. When the stars and moon arise, the honouring of the chosen ones will commence and then each of Evanuris will bestow a blessing upon their chosen.” he said and he couldn’t have been more vague if he wanted. "As for your other question, you will surely see me again. No doubt on the day of the Feast, if not earlier."

The door opened, and a masked woman welcomed them. Her face was covered with something that looked quite similar to the Veil Jumper masked helmets, but far more delicate and as thin as paper, evidently made of gold.

"Fair be thy path!" she greeted them in a melodic voice that the paper-thin mask did not muffle. "We have the final chosen for the Alfather? May I see the token?"

Solas handed her the brier and, to Rook's shock, the woman plucked one of the bloodied leaves, reached out under the mask and popped it into her mouth. She calmly chewed for a few moments, then turned her face towards Rook and regarded her with pale blue eyes, the crinkle of a smile visible even through the mask's holes.

"Ah, an appropriate one! We are blessed. Come, da'len," she moved away from the door and waved her arm ceremoniously for Rook to enter.

She looked over her shoulder at Solas, until the woman closed the door, and he was gone.

Loneliness descended upon her like a dark cloak and the presence of two other "chosen ones" didn't help.

The priestess, because that's surely what the masked woman was, guided her towards them, a young man and a woman, both sitting around a squat table on pillows.

Both were just as scared and bedraggled as her, with ruined, ripped clothes and spots of blood here and there. They looked up at her wide-eyed and she nodded awkwardly at them.

The man had long black hair and a harsh jaw, and the woman was well-built, with golden hair and the muscles of a warrior or hunter. A third pillow was between them, and she knew it was waiting for her.

The priestess herded her towards them and all but forcefully sat her on said pillow.

"And so the blessed number has been made whole. Three of you! You must not speak your names to each other. Not yet. The name reveal will take place after all chosens have been hunted. Only one remains, for Lady Sylaise."

She instinctively looked up at the name and wondered if whatever exchange Mythal did had affected the allotment of the others who were hunted. Because she was sure now that an exchange had happened.

"A soul for a soul", she remembered with a knot in her stomach. Someone died for her to be here...

These thoughts would only hold her back. She had no such luxuries...

The darkness of the room was comforting at least. Candles flickered lazily in all corners and billows of fragrant smoke rose from small incense bowls. A deep desire to sleep overwhelmed her, but the priestess had other plans for them.

"You will now bathe, sup and then rest. I sense you are in need of such comforts."

They all nodded, some more eagerly than others. Rook remembered Solas's advice and avoided showing much enthusiasm. In all honesty, all she wanted was to sink into the shadows at the corner of the room, curl up and sleep for an eternity.

A door was opened to her left, beyond an ornate screen, and the priestess led them through it. A large common pool was in the middle of the room, and pale, golden veined marble benches were lined around it.

Her plans didn't involve bathing in the same water with two strangers who were just as dirty as her, but there was no other choice. She suspected it was all part of the ritual as well. Everything was ritual here.

They all took their clothes off in tense silence and in turn stepped into the water. It was pleasantly warm and scented with essences she did not recognize, though citrus notes stood out.

All three sat there awkwardly for a while until the man was the first to sink into the water and lean his head against the side of the pool. Rook followed suit and scrubbed herself with a rough sponge that was placed on the edge of the pool. A bar of soap, square and with a distinct lavender scent was next to it, and she lathered herself well, before sinking under the warm surface once more.

After all three had washed themselves, the priestess poured liquid from a small flask into the water, and she knew it was a healing potion because slowly all her day's aches and pains melted away.

They were offered clean gowns and were sat back around the table, which was now laden with fruit she had never seen before, dried meats and cheeses, and what looked like warm sweet buns.

In the center, a large kettle surrounded by three cups simmered on a small fire that kept it warm.

"Feast to your heart’s content!" softly directed the priestess, and Rook didn't need the command to immediately grab one of the buns. It was indeed sweet and tasted like honey and spices, and it took her very little to finish it whole. When she was done, she sampled something from each morsel before her, and by the time she could wrap her hands around a hot cup of the most comforting tea she had ever drank, all the cares slipped away.

"Wonderful! Now off to rest all three of you! The celebrations start tomorrow after Lady Selayse's chosen is found at last." announced the priestess.

Rook vaguely registered that the woman had not eaten from the foods, nor drunk the tea, but that was not important. Not now when so much joy filled her chest. She looked at the other two chosen, and they had matching, content smiles on their faces.

All three got up and were guided towards another door, opposite to the one that led to the bathroom.

The man stumbled and giggled, balancing against Rook. His giggle was out of place for such a stern young man as he had been when she first met him, but again that didn't matter when the whole situation was so comical. She just laughed along with him and let him use her as a crutch, even though he was quite heavy.

Even the other woman, who initially looked like she would hit you at a slightly irritating sound, was now smiling pleasantly.

The things a good bath, good food, and good company do for you, mussed Rook, as they entered what obviously were the common sleeping quarters.

Three large beds with golden filigree frames awaited them. Each had an arched window by the headboard and on the other side of the room was another door and a bookcase with delicate, equally golden books.

Everything was golden, gilded, filigreed, bendy, spiraled, or in some way swooping. All shapes flowed and merged organically as if the trees themselves grew them.

She chose the furthest bed from the door and without any more words they all slipped under the covers. It was strange that neither said anything, but at the same time, something just compelled her into silence. Maybe it was exhaustion, or just the awkwardness of sleeping in the same room with two strangers, but all she wanted was to drift off into the fragrant, soft featherbed.

Chapter Text

The first night in Arlathan was delirious. Remembering it later, that was the only word that came to her mind.

She had tried reaching out to Mythal as was the plan, but the moment the fragrant bed embraced her, she fell into an endless well of hallucinations, or maybe they were dreams. She would never really know.

She was awoken with a rather rude shake by an irritated young woman. Dawn was filtering through the window behind her bed, and it took her some time to get used to the glare.

After a breakfast of fruit, light pastries, and tea, they were given new garments, similar to the ones she wore during the hunt, but more festive. The golden thread within the white fabric was, of course, ever-present, and this time far heavier, and a blood-red sash was tied around the waist.

Servants helped them with everything, from their dress to their hair, and she just went through the motions, way too distracted, or maybe lethargic, to oppose or even do anything herself.

Her fellow Chosens were just as cooperative, and all three of them had perpetual serene smiles on their faces. When the priestess announced that they could walk through the city, accompanied by guards, the joy could only double.

"I don’t mean to pry, alas, my curiosity forces me to do it still," the dark-haired, male Chosen matched her strides and whispered to her, just as they were walking out of the temple, and into the bright light outside. “What is your home realm?” She glanced at him and for a moment didn’t quite understand what he meant.

“You mean, where I’m from?”

“Quite right,” he smiled and glanced at her from the corner of his violet eyes.

He looked and spoke differently than most of the elves she had met here. She had never thought that before the Veil, different elven cultures and kingdoms existed, but it made perfect sense. In her time, you’d only hear of Arlathan, as it was the capital of the empire, but surely in such a vast land, there must have been numerous places to explore. She wished she would survive long enough to see at least some of them.

First, she had to find a way to evade the question that she had no answer to. For some reason, her utter lack of knowledge and planning seemed hilarious at that moment. It was like rolling down a steep, rocky hill, wearing a sack over her head and possibly naked.

The image made her chuckle to herself, and the man looked both confused and curious.

"Does it even matter?" she asked him with a wink.

His question was honest and his expression calmly inquisitive, as seemed to be his way, but at her words, he laughed as well.

"Indeed. Irrelevant..." he nodded. "This is our day of rest of the Solstice moon. Let's enjoy it properly as is apparently required of us."

Three guards joined them and walked behind them at all times. She noticed how three was a number that kept repeating since she arrived. Three hunters, three chosen, three guards. Over and over.

They walked for what seemed like minutes but was more likely hours. Time didn’t have relevance here, except for the dance of the luminaries across the ever-changing sky. Exhaustion was not an easy thing to achieve here either.

They visited several markets, glades, temples for each deity, a halla racing track, and training grounds, then ended up at an inn for a midday rest, which she didn’t need, but the sun was at its zenith, and even in the shade, the air was growing ever more stifling.

The inn was at the root of a dark old tree that stood out starkly among the pale, gleaming ones, populating most of Arlathan. Inside, it was cool and inviting, with a large burning hearth that somehow gave off no heat.

Water streams flowed through grooves in the dark, smooth wooden floor, and you had to be careful not to step into them. Well, she was the one who had to be careful. The rest of the elves had no such troubles, seemingly gliding over them.

"Ah, The Burning Hearth!" said the female Chosen as they sat at a table by the hearth. "It is dedicated to Lady Sylaise. Maybe that's why the guards brought us here, considering her Chosen is the last to be found."

"Yes, probable," added the male Chosen. "It is one of my favorite places in all of magnificent Arlathan," he sat back in his chair and looked around the establishment, joy filling his usually unreadable eyes.

He was a handsome one, with dark hair and a face chiseled like a statue. His eyes always gleamed with mischievousness, while his smile was always just a little bit dark, searching.

The woman was tall, with a strong body and well-honed muscles. Her hair shone like polished gold, and her eyes were sky blue. She could be sweet and caring, but was also confident and very assertive. Anyone with an ounce of self-preservation wouldn’t have messed with her.

Both of her fellow Chosen had something intimidating to them, while she stood out as less so, though she knew her skills as a mage made up for what she might have otherwise lacked.

She remembered that she was supposed to walk through Sylaise's Pines, rather than be Elgar'nan's chosen.

She could bet that the one who would be announced as Sylaise's chosen would fit her little group of three better than her. Then again, the All-Father had been haunting her almost as much as Solas in her previous life, so the entire conundrum was not a surprise.

Solas. Yet again, it was his fault. He chased her towards the briers. He threw her to the worst of the Evanuris a second time.

Guilt overwhelmed her at such treacherous thoughts. In her previous life, she ended up respecting him and even having affection for him. 

And she missed him...

Drinks and food were brought once again. A dark red wine that stained the delicate crystal decanters it was poured into, and various foods she could not identify, but she eagerly dug into.

"So, now shall you give me your name?" the male Chosen brought her out of her dark thoughts while swirling his glass of wine. "Surely there is nothing to it... No one will know..."

"I think that is a problem," said the other woman. "We were told not to do this. Can't you have patience for a couple more hours, until the last chosen is brought in?"

"Hm, I guess I can," he drawled, sitting back, his eyes still on her. He had two, perfectly aligned moles, one above and the second below his left eye, and every time he talked to her, she couldn’t stop staring at them. "Boy, bring us the finest elfroot. Perfect addition to this fine meal," he called to a young, skinny elf boy who was scuttling about with a large tray of food.

With a quick "Surely m'lord", the boy ran off..

After just a few moments, the boy returned holding a huge hookah with three thin muzzles attached to it. The other two started smoking without any hesitation, but she looked at it suspiciously.

She knew that in her time, elfroot was not to be trifled with, but was also certain that here her body had become far more resilient during its rebirth, so it was likely that it wouldn't affect her as it did in her previous life.

She gingerly grabbed a muzzle and took a drag of the sweet, fragrant smoke. It had a spicy, berry aftertaste, and it immediately relaxed her, all surrounding sounds lowering to a low, calming droning.

"Good," the male Chosen addressed her, a cat-like smile on his face. He sucked a deep lungful of smoke again and blew it out in large billows. "Our friend left," he announced, nodding with his chin to her side, where the female Chosen had been sitting.

She looked at the empty chair, but as her eyes trailed the inn, she saw her with another woman. They were laughing together, and the sun's rays pulsed and slipped for a moment. She shook her head and looked back at the man. He was regarding her with the same, overly focused expression on his fox-like face.

"So tell me about yourself," he started again. "Give me your name. No harm done in that."

"Give me yours first," she challenged, and he laughed, blowing out another smoke plume that slithered up to the ceiling.

"Alright. I shall, lest you say I am unfair," he sighed and sat up from his reclined position, dragging his chair next to hers. It unsettled her. He unnerved her, especially for the past hour or so. He seemed...strange. "Dhen'luong is the name," he whispered to her. "Now your turn..."

She looked at him with barely disguised contempt but said nothing, rather choosing to drink from her wine glass and take another deep drag of elfroot.

"I never agreed to the bargain, so I'm not obliged to do anything," she said, dragging her chair further away from him.

" Never agreed," he asked incredulously. "You proposed it, if I may remind you," his tone was just as cold as hers.

"Why do you insist, when you'll know it soon anyway? Your insistence is what stops me from giving it to you and nothing more."

His eyes flashed behind her, and that expression of self-satisfaction was replaced in quick succession by revulsion and then confusion. His change was so evident that she had to look in the same direction and when she saw what he had seen, relief flooded her.

Solas.

He had the same two men with him, Felassan and Indril. The first kept his head lowered and walked behind the other two. Everyone bowed at the sight of Solas, and he answered back with nods.

It didn't take long for his eyes to find hers, and he inclined his head in recognition, then looked behind her at Dhen'luong, before approaching.

"Ah, glad to see you, lost one!" he greeted her and, without much preamble, sat in the female Chosen's empty chair. He measured Dhen'luong for a few moments, "The other Chosen, I presume?"

"Indeed. Dhen'luong, at your service, master," he bowed his head low, a dark smile playing on his lips.

"It is a pleasure to know your name, Dhen'luong. I am Solas. No need for other titles..."

Felassan and Indril brought chairs and sat around the table with steaming mugs of...something. She couldn't identify exactly what it was, but the warm scent of spices reached her.

"May I be introduced to your friend, Solas," asked Felassan merrily, his lips shiny and stained with wine.

"She is adamant in following the law; thus, no name shall be given," said Dhen'luong. Solas gave him a small smile.

"Indeed, the Law requires the names to be revealed at the naming ceremony. You have broken the law, have you not, Dhen'luong?" asked Solas.

"Ah, but we found the last of the Chosen," said Felassan. "The transgression isn't quite as grave."

"A spirited one, as well. Maybe even more spirited than our mysterious maiden here," spoke Indril for the first time since they arrived.

Solas turned to her, a hint of mischievousness on his face. She felt her face burning, her cheeks most likely getting ruddier by the second. Whether it was the wine or the elfroot, or maybe both, she could not tell. His proximity wasn't helping either.

"It is your choice, my lady," he told her before sipping his wine. She could taste it on his breath, and it only flustered her more.

"I choose to follow the Law..." she quickly clarified. What name would she even give?

Mythal, please, help me. Whose soul did I replace? But of course, the goddess did not answer, and she was certain that she probably never would.

Whatever ceremony was following, she suspected they'd announce their names, so she just had to act natural until then.

"Very well," said Solas, and turned his attention to the other men. "There's very little time left until it starts. Your curiosity will be satisfied sooner rather than later."

Felassan gave her a warm smile and raised his cup towards her.

"I honor those who observe the Law. At least these few turns of the sun, before the Midsummer Feast commences. Then, laws become..." he stopped, and gave Solas an amused glance before looking at her again. "...trivial."

Solas laughed, but Indril outright guffawed, hiding his grin in the wine mug.

"That's not the most reassuring thing to say, but nothing has been reassuring as of late..." she mumbled.

"You are right, my lady. We apologize," said Solas. "In truth, as you probably well know, the Midsummer revel is a display of joy and love that we share. All in the name of our Lady Mythal, our Lord Elgar'nan, and the entire elvendom."

"More in his name than hers, but eh..." said Felassan in his mug, raising a brow at him.

"Indeed, isn't everything in his name?" She meant it as a joke, but he turned to her with a complicit smile. She didn't laugh.

"Well, the festivities are indeed for the Sun at its highest power, but it is followed by one for the Moon when we honor Lady Mythal. As the Sun's dominion wanes after Solstice, the Moon's grows. And so on and so forth, the wheel of the year turns, whilst we try to keep up with the sun and moon", said Felassan.

Solas chuckled at his friend's jape, a sound that felt like an anchor. She knew it all too well.

"I see," she said. "I'll take that as a comfort..."

It wasn't.

"Simply..." said Solas, a breath in to gather his thoughts before his eyes were on hers. "...enjoy it all, regardless of what you may see. As imbued with mystery as it is, the Solstice night is spectacular."

"Oh, that is for sure!" said Falassan. He had placed his wine on the table and was suddenly filled with excitement. "I surely aim to taste and fully enjoy each feast..." There was an obvious smolder in his eyes, and she all but gasped. She had only seen him in memories of war, a general, desperate, worried, yet pragmatic. This Felassan was...different, to say the least.

"Our friend here is already having perhaps a bit too much entertainment," Solas said, nodding towards Dhen'luong. That is when she realized he had been oddly silent for a while.

"I..." he looked tired. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be indulging," he groggily said, and pushed the elfroot hookah away, as if it would somehow grow legs and force him to smoke it.

"No need for worries, friend. It is, though, advised that you prepare yourself for such indulging. There will be a lot of it come morn and throughout the moon ahead of us," said Solas, a look of pity, or maybe concern, on his face.

Dhen'luong nodded and looked at her strangely. His roguish smile was gone, and so was his audacity.

She didn't have time to dwell on the strange shift in the man's demeanor before a deep, melodic gong sounded and everyone in the tavern stopped what they were doing as if compelled.

The other chosen, the woman, rushed back to their table after kissing the friend she had been talking to. Both women seemed equal parts scared and excited about whatever was about to happen, and Rook's heart skipped a beat at the utter electricity that was suddenly running through everyone around her.

"Ah, that was quick!" said Indril and stood up.

"And all for the better. No need to squander precious revelry time!" added Felassan and downed the rest of his drink, standing and very much eager to go.

All eyes in the room turned on them, and the next moment, all erupted in cheer. It was so loud and boisterous that Rook was startled, and whatever daze the elfroot infused her with was gone.

"Let's go!" Solas called loudly over the sound and reached his hand out to her. "Trust me. You'll need to hold on."

She desperately searched for the other two Chosens and was somehow relieved when she saw that they too were accompanied by Indril and Felassan, respectively.

She slipped her hand into Solas's and let him guide her out.

It was clear why they had to be guarded. Before even reaching the door, almost every patron in the inn had gathered around them, reaching out their hands to touch them.

A woman had clutched Dhen'luong's tunic and was touching her forehead to the fabric, and Rook felt hands all over her waist as well. She yelped and twisted away from their grasp, but Solas held her in place.

"Do not fear them. While we're with you, nothing can happen. They think they'll be blessed by simply touching your garments. Allow them this comfort. They've been through a lot..." he spoke in her ear and pushed her in front of him, towards the exit.

Outside, it was even worse. Somehow, the people on the streets knew the Chosens were inside, and a crowd had formed at the doors.

The gong kept ringing; deep and clear, vibrating in her chest, rattling her jaw. A cacophony of cheers and screams accompanied the somber gong, and it all made for the most chaotic, yet strangely exhilarating moment she had witnessed.

The crowd was saying something in a single voice, but the words were hard to decipher. She could only make out the names of the different Evanuris, over and over again, chanted like prayers. She held on tight to Solas's hand, which was now digging into the red sash wrapped around her waist. He was not quite as relaxed as he wanted her to believe.

They rushed towards a destination only Solas and his little army of two men knew, and were yet again crowded by a mass of people. Women were holding out their children to be blessed by her and the other female Chosen, and men of noble standing, decked in luxurious garments, were aiming for Dhen'luong in particular, touching his hair and his clothes, while Indril was doing his best to keep them away.

Across the street from the inn, a carriage awaited them. She expected Halla, but instead, the carriage was pulled by horses of such magnificence that they probably needed a whole other title. They were huge, pure white, with golden manes and large hooves, decorated by swirling golden inlay. Their masks and reins were also golden, and the carriage they pulled was glinting pure white, twisted golden vines and blooms crawling as if real all over its curved shape.

Solas almost shoved her inside before jumping after her, while the other Chosens followed closely behind. She was sitting just across from the female Chosen, who was now exhibiting a gigantic, ecstatic smile.

"Oh wow. That was... I wish I were greeted like this every morning when I come out of my dingy, old house," she laughed.

Solas commented about how she probably wouldn't like that, but the woman insisted, and that escalated into a small debate that stopped only when Solas declared defeat. The woman really, and very honestly, desired such attention in her life daily, yet Solas was unable to comprehend such a thing. Rook had a feeling they'd get a lot of attention from now on.

When she had seen the carriage and knew it was their ride, she had already planned to ask Solas questions, but, in the awkward silence, with Dhen'luong almost dozing off, the other Chosen seemingly embarrassed at the argument she had with Solas, it didn't feel like the right time anymore.

She was numb, yet excited and scared in equal amounts. The conflicting, confusing emotions were as natural as breathing since she had arrived here.

They rode for some time, while Solas and his men talked about various things that she couldn't focus on, though she should have.

She chose to admire the scenery, getting lost among the endless forests, fields, and rolling hills. It was so easy to forget that she had been born in a different time or place. This entire realm seemed to awaken old memory within her, like an answer to the undefined yearning she had carried with her for a lifetime. 

The carriage stopped with a sudden jerk, and excitement filled the little space before they exited. 

"Ah, the magnificent Heart of Arlathan! Be welcome, friends," Solas announced with pride when everyone was out. He looked at her, and when she turned to her left, the air left her lungs.

Magnificent was an understatement.

For a moment, her mind couldn't quite grasp what she was seeing. It was too bright, too otherworldly in its perfection, uncanny and unreasonably perfect, rising to the skies in numerous gold and marble towers and spires.

Gossamer-like bridges and platforms connected all the buildings, and the pointy roofs were not covered in tiles, but brightly colored mosaics of turquoise and white. Between the buildings, lush trees of green and gold raised their rounded heads, and blooming vines hugged the walls, growing in perfect harmony with the marble and gold.

There were also waterfalls flowing from some platforms, to be caught by large basins below. Glinting water rivulets snaked up the walls, defying gravity, and a whole network of water covered the entire construction, flowing like blood through it all, feeding it as if it were a living thing. Was that even water though?

Some spires were topped with symbols of all the Evanuris, and the largest, tallest one stood in the middle, crowned with a golden sun that gave off its own light, fractured into rainbows.

The carriage had taken them to an arched gate, and she was pretty sure her mouth was open when she took everything in. The shape of the city brought back memories and a feeling of familiarity.

She needed to see it from afar because her perspective was that of an ant facing an elephant, but she knew this place. She had seen it before, in her first life.

The Crossroads. The gigantic floating city could sometimes be seen when the weather was just right and the shimmering veils thin.

The Black City.

She gasped, as her mind scrambled to put everything together, and couldn't make sense of the information that this was the mythical Black City. It changed everything forever...

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it even more when we enter," Solas spoke softly, amusement in his voice. The others were already walking towards the gate, and Solas beckoned her along. She shook her head and looked at him, wide-eyed and absent for a moment. He answered her bewilderment with a smile.

"Oh... I'm sorry... It seems I have been put under a spell by buildings." she laughed and followed him.

"No need to apologize, these are no mere buildings. Arlathan, our Golden City, is eternally awe-inspiring!"

Golden City. Yeah sure. Everything she had learned since being in this realm came crumbling down like a castle made of cards.

"Is this where the festival will take place?"

"No. The celebration will be held at the great tree you've seen on our way here. I believe you remember that tree, do you not?" he asked.

"Oh, yes!" she answered a little too enthusiastically. She had to hide the fact that she had learned the most earth-shattering information of her life, while her mind was screaming at her about how this changed everything, and she had to tell someone.

Who would she tell? Bellara would go crazy over this knowledge, but Bellara was gone… or rather not even born, yet also gone. Because of her.

A knot of guilt formed in her stomach, and it felt alien. She hadn't thought of her regrets in a while, and now wasn’t the best time when a plan had to be put together. She was there to find out her new name, or rather the name of the person she had replaced, and then she had to try contacting Mythal again. The Mythal who had brought her here, not whoever she was in these olden days.

If Mythal did not answer, she was on her own and she would have to work with what she had, or rather who she had...

She glanced at Solas, and he looked back as if sensing her eyes on him. A quick smile at him, and then she looked away again, heat rising in her cheeks, fractured memories of what had happened between them before she arrived here haunting her. He had been in her head, and her dreams, and the more time passed, the more complicated their relationship got.

Until one fateful night when she did something terrible to the one person who had fallen in love with her… Davrin. Good, wholesome Davrin who would have done anything for her, while she, the wretched monster that she was, yearned for Solas and had him in her thoughts when she and Davrin were…

The gates opened to a grand plaza, and she was grateful for all those thoughts to be silenced.

People crowded every corner, just as they did in all parts of the capital during this time, but here they were contained to the sides by tall, golden fences. That didn't stop them from erupting in cheers and screams, though. The sounds were louder here, maybe because of the acoustics, or maybe they really were more enthusiastic than the others she had met before, but either way, she had to cover her ears and huddle as close as possible to the others.

The plaza was wide and bathed in sunlight. Trees and flowering bushes lined the sides, and a large fountain stood in the middle. She couldn't get her eyes off of it as they walked to the right, around the fences. It was curved, water surging to the sides in the shape of an upright, slightly bent, open fan. Vegetation and magnificent flowers were growing at the foot of the fountain, and right in front of it, upon a rounded dais, stood two large thrones. Other smaller thrones reigned beside them, following the curve of the fountain.

She immediately knew that was where the Evanuris would sit, and a shudder ran through her.

They climbed some narrow stairs, masked by a series of marble walls, and reached a terrace reserved for the Chosen. Now, for the first time, she could see all the others. They all wore similar clothes; the only thing that set them apart was the color of the sashes around their waists. They were all beautiful, young, and very excited, which made her feel safer as well.

A hand was suddenly on her lower back, warm and comforting, and she knew exactly who it was.

"I must join them below," he whispered close to her, small hairs moving under his breath and tickling her ear. "I'll see you on Solstice night, I trust," he added with amusement in his voice. It wasn't a question.

She turned and took in his face, knowing she'd miss him for the following month.

"If you want to see me, you definitely will," she said. Before he could turn to walk away, she had to ask him what had been on her mind all day. "Wait," she said, and he waited, his eyes focused and patient. "Why are we... Why are you so attentive when it comes to me? You said you hunted several other Chosens?"

A knowing smile curled his lips, and it seemed like he was offering her an indulgence rather than a good reason for his dotting.

"Well, while you are indeed Elgar'nan's chosen, it was I who found the brier with your blood upon it. Thus, you are my charge."

"Hopefully not your burden as well..." she joked and was unreasonably happy when he gave her the chuckle she knew so well.

"A challenge is always welcome, and today went well. Better than expected..." his eyes flickered to the thrones below and then moved back to hers. "I trust you will do better on Solstice night..."

She was taken aback for a moment.

"Better? You just said today went well..." but her words were cut short when he laughed. It was startling for a moment because she had never really seen him laugh like that. Honestly and fully, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his shoulders shaking.

"I apologize, my lady. I'm jesting." he stopped for a breath and had the audacity to bite his lower lip before giving her the wickedest smirk she had ever seen on his face. "Or maybe I am not... Depending on what you prefer."

She gave an incredulous little laugh. She had played his sad, dark games in her other life. She would play this other game of his, whatever it was, in this one again.

"I refuse to believe you'd just bow down to whatever I want... Doesn't seem like your way."

"And how would you know my way?"

It was dangerous territory, but she did plan to tell him all about herself at some point, so this tiny seed planted early was not a bad idea.

"Just guessing..." she said, allowing a complicit smile to speak for her further.

"It is a good guess! Alas, incomplete. I am a man of many dispositions."

"Speaking of dispositions, what will your role be today?"

What he did next banished the self-assurance she thought she had. He closed the distance between them, gently grabbed her chin, and directed her face towards the thrones below.

His fingers were still on her chin, keeping her eyes where he wanted her to look. He hovered over her shoulder and whispered, "See the smaller chair to the right of the white throne?" he asked softly, his voice clear despite the surrounding commotion.

She looked at the thrones more carefully. The two big ones were clearly Mythal's and Elgar'nan's.

His was dark with golden vines and blood-red buds, slithering over the wood, gilded sunrays rising over a crescent, and a pair of sweeping wings on the backrest. Hers was crafted of bone-white wood, with silver markings that looked like the vallaslin Solas and Fellasan wore, and the backrest was a pair of twisted silver shapes that looked both like antlers and a crescent. The most beautiful thrones she had ever seen in her life. She could barely take her eyes off them.

Next to Mythal's throne sat a simple, unassuming one. Dark, almost black with brass leaves indented in the backrest and numerous eyes that were almost indistinguishable from the leaves.

"I see it. Is that your throne?" she asked, finally looking carefully at all the other thrones. It was hard to recognize them all, except for the obvious, like Sylaise's, with her flames and twisted branches, or Andruil's, a ragged thing, carved out of what looked more like driftwood than anything else and crowned with gigantic antlers. Falon'din's owl, perched on one of the thrones, was also recognizable.

"Not my throne. Merely the sitting place given to me by her divine grace, Lady Mythal."

"So you have no Chosen?" she asked innocently, fully knowing this was a sensitive spot for him. His fingers twitched a little on her chin.

"I am not an Evanuris..."

"And yet, I'd have liked to be chosen by… whatever holy tree you'd have," she whispered back and leaned just a little into him. He let out a huff, something that should have been laughter, but not quite.

"The wolfberry was it," he asked.

She nodded.

"I was not quite myself in Sylaise's woods, but yes, I do remember the wolfberry that I proposed."

"Well, it's quite an occurrence that I was the one driving you into Lord Elgar'nan's briers when you were meant for Lady Sylaise, is it not?" he said and let his hand fall away from her face.

"I can consider myself the chosen of three gods then..."

"I am not a god," he said, "But you can indeed consider yourself the Chosen of at least two. While I..." he took a break to look over her face, searching for words, or maybe making up a plan. She could never know with him. "I can be there as a guide and fellow reveler. I can also tell you that you must count yourself lucky Lady Andruil's moose didn't find you," he added with a very slight, but obvious, eye-roll.

"Her... moose?"

"Yes. Dreadful thing. And a dreadful thing to be chased and caught by that creature." Disgust appeared on his face.

Another of those deep gongs resonated. This time, it was so loud that she jumped, and its vibrations coursed through her bones.

She had wanted to ask what he meant, but he took a deep breath in and gave her a determined, yet quite excited, look.

"It is time. I shall see you below. You will be named and called in front of the court. It is merely a presentation, do not fret… too much," and with another smile and a small bow, he turned and descended the stairs they had climbed just moments ago.

The gong went off again, and she turned towards the plaza, dizzying adrenaline running through her veins. To her left, her other fellow Chosens stood, their faces rather pale.

Dhen'luong's face was tense and his dark hair slightly mussed, and the other Chosen, the tall blonde woman, gave her a half smile when their eyes met.

The gong sounded a third time, low and rumbling, seemingly louder than before.

That was it.

She saw Solas heading towards the dais just as the Evanuris walked out of one of the arched doors on the other side of the plaza. At the head of the procession were Mythal and Elgar'nan, whom she immediately recognized. Behind them, the rest followed, each stranger and more astounding than the other.

The procession wasn't as elaborate as she expected, and the Evanuris seemed to have been in a hurry and rather tense. She knew that their relationship was defined by conflict, so she wondered what historic event had happened now, or rather, was about to happen.

Andruil had a very young Ghilan'nain by her side, who sat on a delicate throne carved with Halla antlers and blooms. Andruil, in her gnarly, dark throne, was in an odd state of agitation, and Sylaise, sitting between Andruil and Elgar'nan, seemed to try and calm her sister, but without much success. Ghilan'nain looked scared, which was equally sad and surprising to see, knowing what she'd become in the future.

Once upon a time, Ghilan'nain was a doe-eyed, innocent thing, just as Solas had said in memories.

The other gods waited calmly, the occasional side eye thrown in Andruil's direction the only hint that they were indeed noticing the drama unfolding.

Moments later, a man appeared, spoke a few words about the significance of the ritual, mentioning the importance of spoken names and the power they hold, and then proceeded to call out the names of each Evanuris, along with their endless titles. After that was over, he called out the names of each chosen.

They all had three Chosens, and the ceremony started with lord June. Each group of three Chosens would descend the stairs, stand before the thrones, bow, and then the gods would say a few words. They'd exit back through the gate through which they'd come.

And here she was, hoping she'd have the privilege of exploring the Golden City. Maybe one day, unless something horrific occurred on Solstice night.

When the man spoke Andruil's name, two terrified men and one woman stood before her. Andruil looked wordlessly at them and stood from her throne to walk around them. She was tall and muscular, like the well-honed and strung-up bow on her back, and she circled them like a predator circles a deer. Elegant and strong, yet dangerous, beautiful the way nature is beautiful.

She noticed Solas whispering something to Mythal, who in turn did the same to Elgar'nan, at which he very obviously sighed.

"Ah, what a fine one," Andruil broke the silence. She was holding the woman's face in her hand, turning it left and right, examining it like cattle to be bought. "You shall receive vallaslin today, Elien! That is your name, yes? Elien?" The woman nodded. "Good, no reason to waste time with all of this. Vallaslin on, and we can proceed with what needs to be done."

"And what shall you do about the other two, Andruil?"

The voice sent chills down her back. So familiar, too familiar, yet lighter, not as grating as she knew it. Younger.

Andruil looked back at Elgar'nan. The silence that descended upon the plaza was more oppressive than the ruckus of before.

"Why? You want them?"

"Ah, how generous," Elgar'nan said sarcastically. "No, thank you, I have my own. Nonetheless, the ritual shall be observed, and you shall choose the final one on Solstice night, like everyone else."

"This is mere protocol. I already made my choice, father," said Andruil, the word “father” all but spat. She let go of the woman's chin and sauntered back towards the arched gateways through which they had entered.

"And you shall choose again," Elgar'nan emphasized each word. "In one turn of the moon."

"Ghilan'nain, are you coming?" called Andruil, and the other woman wanted to stand up, but when she looked at the others sank back into her throne.

"Vallaslin shall not be bestowed before Solstice night. I suffer not a word more on it," declared Elgar'nan. "You are free to leave," he added before turning to a cowering Ghilan'nain, "And if Lady Ghilan’nain so wishes to stay and attend, let her. Perhaps she is in need of a respite from your snide mouth."

Andruil scoffed, "I could carve it on her face now with my bare hands, but be it as you will it. A mistake has been made, and you all know it..." She looked at Ghilan'nain and beckoned to her, to which the other woman immediately reacted, scurrying by her side in moments.

"Good riddance," said Elgar'nan. "Shall we proceed?"

Sylaise's Chosens were presented, and she remembered she should have been one of them. Sylaise was probably the only Evanuris, other than perhaps June, who looked safe and approachable. She wore a garland of flowers on her head and a robe of deep green trimmed in gold. Her hair was warm honey, and her gestures and words soft and gentle.

Alas, she had Elgar'nan.

It wasn't even surprising. Life so often seemed to run in circles, things unfinished repeating and returning, over and over until she got it right.

When they got to Mythal, Rook was sick with anxiety. She knew she and her two other comrades in suffering would be next.

Mythal’s three Chosens were all women, lovely and as delicate as willows. Mythal herself was a vision, with black hair that fell in loose waves over a pearl white gown with sleeves that looked more like wings. She wore a delicate silver crown with two curved points in the back. Her Chosens bowed, and she spoke in hushed tones to all three of them in turn, before walking back to her throne. She had an air of calm authority about her, and Rook understood why Solas had been so in awe of her.

"Vara'diel, Sulime and Dhen'luin!" When she heard the man's name, the only one she knew, she could taste the fear, like steel upon her tongue.

She wondered which of the first two names was hers, and prayed Elgar'nan didn't ask her first.

Descending the stairs felt like a fever dream, and when they finally stood in front of the Evanuris, she surely must have turned into an insect. They seemed gigantic from this place.

The dais was higher than it looked from the balcony, and they all stared at them like hawks assessing their prey. Her eyes searched for Solas, and he gave her a short nod, but she quickly looked away from him, knowing staring too long would seem suspicious.

When the man who announced the names directed them to kneel, she decided the pavement was very interesting indeed. He didn't make the others kneel, so she figured only Elgar'nan's Chosens had this special little privilege.

"And so it begins," Elgar'nan's voice resounded around the plaza, and she heard rustling as if he had stood up, but she didn't raise her head to look. "I declare the Solstice celebrations open! In one turn of the moon, as the twilight descends, we shall meet at the Vhenadahl, the heart tree, the blessed tree of the people. May prosperity and will unbroken shine upon us in this turning of the year."

The crowd cheered and stomped so hard that she could feel the vibration in her palms and knees.

Elgar'nan's name was chanted over and over in deafening noise, drowning everything else, including his voice. She didn't hear him approach, and when he said Dhen'luong's name, who was right beside her, she stared at the floor with even more interest.

He ordered Dhen'luong to stand and, after a few words of approval, he let him go, at which the man all but ran off towards the outer gates.

"Sulime," he called the second name, and thankfully, the other girl reacted quickly enough.

"Adored and faithful subject," he began ceremoniously. "Vallaslin shall be offered to you on the night of the Solstice, and you shall want for nothing under my protection."

Vallaslin? She panicked. She did not want such a thing on her face. She hated them but knew she had to do everything to fix what had been broken, and if that meant getting a vallaslin, so be it.

"Yes, your grace," Sulime answered before he dismissed her. She, too, rushed to the gate, and Rook couldn't wait until she could do the same.

So the last name left was hers. The one she'll use from now on. Perhaps the one that will replace her true name, the name that meant everything to her and still tethered her to who she truly was. No more Rook and no more Idunn.

"Vara'diel," he called to her, and she could feel him standing over her, even if she could not see him. "Look at me and stand," he commanded, and she took a deep breath, braced herself against the pristine marble floor, and faced him.

What surprised her at first was that he wasn't quite as big as she remembered him. He was, by all means, still very tall, but less so. She almost reached his chest, which indeed made him less intimidating. Or maybe she was taller? She allowed such distracting thoughts to rush through her mind, and she focused on the two small, moon-shaped decorations pinned to his robes, avoiding his eyes.

"Look at me, da'len," he insisted, and so she did it. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak or scared. "You must not be afraid of me," he added, and she seethed. So much for not showing fear. He could probably smell it on her.

She breathed deeply once more and looked up at him, a frown curling her brow.

When their eyes met, his expression was utterly stoic, yet also somehow amused, and he was... different from what she remembered.

His hair was longer and as dark as raven feathers, and his eyes were still golden, but the black in the sclera was missing, which made him less frightening, normal, almost. This, along with the fact that he wore a small crown of golden leaves and a rather unassuming robe, made eye contact far easier.

"How...curious," he frowned, and for a wild moment, she expected to be grabbed by the chin like Andruil did with her Chosen, and turned around as if she were merchandise.

He didn't do it, but his stare was quite enough to unnerve her.

"There, there," he whispered, gently placing his right hand on the crown of her head as if bestowing a blessing and maybe that's exactly what he was doing, because a surge of energy rushed through her, pleasant, exhilarating, taking all her worries away as it swept through her mind. "Better," he asked, his voice low. She didn't answer, she couldn't answer, but something in her expressionless face satisfied him, for he spoke again, louder for all to hear, "And upon you as well, adored and faithful subject, the blessing of Vallaslin shall be bestowed on Solstice night. You shall want for nothing under my protection. You may leave."

"Yes, your grace," she parroted what Sulime had said, made an awkward bow, and ran towards the main gate, as all the others had before her. She felt the hundreds of eyes of the crowd upon her and was surprised she didn't trip on her way out.

As soon as she was outside the golden gates, she collapsed against a column, her entire body shaking with emotions she couldn't even describe nor understand. It was as if her body were a wild horse that only wanted to rear up, kick, and run away, but she had to keep it bridled.

When Sulime called out to her from the carriage they had arrived in, she couldn't control the shaking in her hands.

"Oh dearest, you need to rest and have a tea," Sulime said as Rook approached her.

"I'll be fine. I am fine," she mumbled, and all but threw herself in the safety of the carriage. Neither Solas nor any of the other men who had brought them here joined them on the way back, and she was relieved. She could barely string a few words together.

The road back to their living quarters was delirious. Whatever spell Elgar'nan put on her when he touched her made her feel strange. Not bad, just strange. Light and floaty, slightly dizzy, but also calm, in a hazy kind of way. She only had to rest her head against the window to quickly slip into a deep slumber.

When she woke up, shaken by Dhen'luong no less, her head had slumped in her chest, and she had drooled over her chin.

Ridiculous, she angrily thought to herself and swatted Dhen's hand away. "I'm up. Leave me be!" she groused, and the man pulled back, looking more than a little vexed.

That night they went through the same routine she knew by heart - common bath where the priestess watched over them, a delicious dinner and that tea that chased away all negative thoughts or questions, and then, her favorite part, sinking into the soft featherbed and cocooning herself in the duvet that smelled of unknown flowers at all times.

Chapter Text

The following weeks before the Solstice went by in a blur. The only thing she could clearly remember looking back was that the very air of the city grew increasingly thicker with both heat and magic. Magic was everywhere here, and she found that she would naturally perform spells without even thinking.

The more time passed, the more she absorbed the power around and bounced it back in a natural flow akin to breathing. She would light candles with the mere thought that she needed light, she'd summon scents when she needed them, or only when she yearned for them. Water would bend to her will, temperature as well, and to a degree even light.

One morning, when she wanted to sleep in and sun rays peeked through the painted windows, she merely wished them gone, and they obeyed, dimming softly. Or maybe it was the windows that grew opaque. She would never know for sure which elements answered her more.

The approaching Solstice did something to the matter itself. She could feel it in the air and hear it in the whispers of others. The days grew longer, the nights terribly short. The heat grew as well, but so did the humidity, with intense summer storms sweeping through every day. Days ended with spectacular, otherworldly sunsets that lasted for hours, and when the night came, curtains of scintillating light, similar to aurora borealis, adorned the skies.

Spirits made themselves more visible with each passing day, partaking in activities or merely observing. They'd appear when you least expect them, with no shame or concepts of privacy. A few even entered their sleeping quarters, and she was attracting those of Curiosity in particular, which was amusing yet unnerving. There were moments when she wondered whether it wasn't all a strange dream. A vision she was falling through as she was still dying on the cold floors of the Archon's Palace.

A dream of death.

One day, a large bloom similar to an orchid opened at her window. It stood proud under the early morning sun, all hues of purple and dusted in sparkling particles. She caressed the velvety petals, feeling them stir under her fingers, reacting to her touch.

Sometimes beauty was so overwhelming that she couldn't quite grasp its magnitude. She could, though, understand the pain that tainted it. The hurt, the memories of everything she had destroyed and all who had died because of her, would not let her go, and when such moments came, she would drown them in distractions, which were in abundance at every turn.

Mythal's fragment didn't hear her, didn't answer, and she felt naive for still hoping that it would. Maybe it wasn't that she didn't want to, but simply two Mythals in the same timeline couldn't exist. The one who had sent her here did her job and fulfilled her ultimate role, and now it was Rook's turn to carry that torch.

She eagerly waited for the Solstice night, so that she could get thoroughly numb and reach a resolution to all this tension. It came earlier than she expected. On the eve of it, the priestess gave them extra preparations, consisting of a ritual bath, a ritual feast and wine, and a brew made of different herbs, which plagued her with a slew of nonsensical dreams.

The following morning, they were awakened before dawn, which meant terribly early on the longest day of the year.

As Elgar'nan's Chosens, of course, they had to salute the sun and receive blessings from one of his closest advisors. The advisor turned out to be a tall, wiry elf with a bird-of-prey look about him who presented himself as Desmal, bloodbound to Elgar'nan, and keeper of his secrets. His name triggered memories, and she had to struggle to suppress her laughter when she demurely bowed her head in front of him. My lord, I utterly destroyed you in another life.

He had a thin, long nose, a narrow forehead, and eyes that tilted up at the corners too much, giving him an uncanny, unnerving look. Elgar'nan's vallaslin covered his entire face, half of it blackened out, the other plain, and she hoped she wouldn't look like that as well come morn. His robes were resplendent in golds and azure with midnight blue inner trimming that showed when he opened his arms to gesticulate. The quiet authority he exuded made even the priestess cower a little, and Rook avoided looking into his eyes, even though he seemed intrigued by her, just like his master. She knew that ancient elves perceived things that the mortal ones did not, and that required extra caution when interacting with them.

After Desmal left, they were taken to the highest level of the temple, upon a platform rising above the canopy of the pale trees. Here they watched the sun rising through the shimmering Fade veils, while the priestess muttered prayers. Later, after breakfast, another ritual bathing took place, and at that point, she figured they'd just flay her skin off with so many cleanings. She surely smelled like a whole garden. Admittedly pleasant, but also dizzying because the oils she was anointed with contained various substances and herbs, half of which she couldn't identify, but clearly had effects that surpassed the physical. What didn't affect her mind here, she asked herself. The very air seemed to get her drunk, and the food must have warped and changed her body and soul by now.

The waves of anxiety passed through her on and off, and all she could do was drown them in food and drink. The only thing she clung to was seeing Solas again, who had been completely absent for the entire time. He promised he'd be there, she remembered, just as a servant by the name of Eniel was braiding her hair in complicated coils. She saw herself in the mirror and could barely recognize the slightly manic expression on her face. Otherwise, she looked better than ever, rosy-cheeked, clear-skinned, and well-nourished. Healthy by all intents and purposes, there was no doubt about that. The look in her eyes, though, was odd, and for a wild moment, she felt like a stranger was staring from her own face. She shuddered, just as the servant girl slipped the last braid underneath the others, creating a gorgeous, intricate net of braids that fell over the bottom half of her hair, which was left loose to fall over her back.

"Beautiful hair, milady," the girl whispered, and Rook gave her a smile in the mirror, avoiding her own eerie reflection. The girl wore what she could only conclude was Elgar'nan's vallaslin, though it was different from the ones she had seen on the faces of elves in her own time. It was still a brier, and on half of her face as she remembered them to sometimes be, but it was finer, lighter in colour, and very beautiful. All vallaslin she had seen were far superior to the ones she knew, and most people seemed to wear them willingly, but of course, she didn't know what effect such a thing would have on her. She would find out soon...

"Did it hurt?" she asked in a whisper that, as quiet as it was, still shattered the silence between the two women. Eniel was startled and for a moment confused, but then Rook awkwardly pointed at her own face.

"Ah, yes... I mean no, it didn't! But, milady will be marked by the All Father himself. I am certain milady need not worry, for his Divine Grace is ever gentle."

They didn't speak further, and she was brought her clothes, which, just as she expected, were gorgeous, yet unexpectedly practical. Comfortable, even though impossible to put on without assistance. Eniel, with a soft, subdued smile, asked her to strip, which Rook did without question because public nudity, in the appropriate situations, such as bathing and dressing, was seen as a natural thing here. What she once called shame had been almost completely obliterated from her.

Eniel gave her new small clothes, made of red silk, decorated with shimmering thread. They were so fine and pleasant on her skin that the very feel of them was sensuous. The inner part of the dress followed: a fine dark blue mesh that felt like puffs of air on her skin. It fanned when she moved and had shifting silver threading that made it look like a night sky. Over it, a white and gold petticoat was layered. It was tied around the neck with fine gold thread and followed her cleavage, which was quite low, yet seemed not to be prone to accidents, as it was so well tailored to her body. A short white cape that reminded her of a pair of folded wings was attached to it, falling from her shoulders to her hips. Various pieces of filigree jewelry adorned her wrists and ankles, and on her head, a delicate crown of living golden flowers was placed.

When she looked in the mirror, she gasped. It all looked beautiful and fitted to her body flawlessly, yet as intricate as it all was, it also felt as light as spider webs. She couldn't stop staring at her reflection, watching the wings fold and unfold with each twirl, while the blue inner mesh opened as dark as the night sky.

She had never been ashamed of her love for the finer things in life. In her other life, she had the privilege of wearing beautiful pieces, but this ensemble was beyond anything she had ever seen or dreamed of. Eniel had to all but pry her away from the mirror, and it wasn't all vanity. She watched with bated breath as the sun rays descended and knew that the time to go to the Solstice celebration had finally come for them. She would have done anything to delay the inevitable, and twirling in the mirror for half the night was far more tempting than whatever it was that awaited her.

She recognized the carriage prepared for them outside the temple. It was the same that had carried them to the naming ceremony. After a day away from each other, each prepared separately for the ceremony, it was a relief to be reunited again in such a small, safe place. Rook shared a bench with Sulime, and Dhen’luong was across from them. The silence was peaceful, yet filled with anxiety that they didn’t have to put in words. In their time together, sharing the good and bad, they formed a bond that surpassed conversation, and she remembered that ancient elves could communicate without speech to those they were close to. She hoped that tomorrow morning they'd all meet over breakfast around their round table and share stories as they did each morning.

She felt the same about Dhen’luong too, despite his strange behaviour a while back. Since that fateful day at the Burning Hearth inn, he had been himself, though. Inquisitive, quick-witted, and sharp-tongued at times, yes, but never as prying and predatory as that day. Even if he had kept being a bastard, though, she wouldn't have wanted to see him meet some gruesome end at the hands of the Evanuris.

She had to admit that he was beautiful that evening, though. A filigree half-moon crown adorned his forehead; he wore resplendent robes of pale gold and dark blue, and his dark hair was half twisted in intricate braids. He gave her a soft smile, violet eyes crinkling with mirth, noticing he was being watched.

Sulime wore similar clothes to Rook, with slight differences, mainly to show off her arms. Her skin had been dusted with gold, which made her muscles even more defined.

"We are all beautiful, aren't we?" Dhen’luong said with laughter in his voice, and it somehow broke the tension.

Sulime gave out an awkward giggle and shook her head. "Yes, we have that going for us. I'm sure we'll be the shiniest among everyone," she added.

"All eyes on us then! I don't mind attention," said Dhen’luong, sitting back more comfortably, legs spread wide.

"Neither do I! I just hope that attention won't bring anything..." Rook said, but Sulime gave her a look from the corner of her eye.

She understood immediately what it meant and gave them both a small smile and a nod.

"Let's not make a reality out of nightmares, my dear Vara," whispered Dhen'Luong and shifted his attention to the carriage window, his eyes getting lost among the trees outside.

Weeks ago, when they got to know each other better, and changed stories of their homes and past, Dhen’Luong had told her that she didn’t have to say his entire name, and just Luong was fine. It was indeed a relief.

"I would never, dearest Luong! I am sure we'll have a grand time tonight!" Rook said.

"Oh, here we are!" yelped Sulime. "By the gods!! Both of you, just look!" she exclaimed head almost out the carriage window. She was facing the front, and the Vhenadahl was on her side, while Dhen’luong had his back to it, so he twisted around in his seat to get a glimpse, while Rook all but climbed on Sulime.

"They say, you don't get to see it from a distance unless you're ready," whispered Sulime in awe.

"They say the same about the Golden City, and I confirm that to be true. I did not see it during the hunt," whispered Rook, and the other two added that it had been the other way around for them. They saw the Golden City, but not the Vhenadahl.

She wondered what made the difference between them and why she was the one who stood out. She suspected it had something to do with Mythal’s swap, but she had no time to dwell on that thought because the next moment, the carriage halted, and the coachman opened their door.

The area was flooded with people all walking to and fro, murmuring excitedly, while a steady rhythm of drums resounded from somewhere in the distance. A guard adorned in golden armor appeared out of nowhere and gruffly herded them in front of him, through the throngs of people, and towards the tree. Tension and excitement permeated the air. A familiar calm before the storm that imbues the prelude to any big event.

When Rook looked up at the tree, her mind stilled in awe. It was one thing to see the Vhenadhal from afar, lost through the haze of clouds and Fade veils, but something altogether different to see it rising before her, gigantic, incomprehensible in its size and beauty. Tears pricked her eyes, and she released a breath through her nose.

It reminded her of home, but a hundred times larger and more glorious. Just like the Father tree in her land, this was also an oak, its unmistakable serrated leaves large enough to be used as a blanket. Some branches rose to the sky and bent to the ground, from a trunk thicker than all the temples she had seen in the Lower City.

"By the gods..." breathed Luong from her left, and his eyes were as shiny as hers must have been. "You hear of the Vhenadahl, but unless you stand next to it, you never know..." his voice sounded so uncharacteristically weak for him.

"A miracle of our benevolent protectors. It is Lady Sylaise's masterful creation," said Sulime. Ah, thought Rook, so that is why she could see the tree and not the city.

She would probably always be haunted by Mythal's choice, and she'd have to live with it. She hoped no one would find out, though Andruil's sharp mind had caught onto something, and she made a ruckus about it at the Naming Ceremony.

She remembered Solas saying that being Elgar'nan's chosen is better than being Andruil's, and she'd rather have clawed her way into a hole in the ground than attract her attention. She also knew that she already had Andruil's attention just by being in the wrong place at the right time. Simply seeing the tree imbued her with a sense of safety, though. Whether it was a false one or not, it didn't matter.

The Vhenadahl was surrounded by a tall wall of honeysuckle vines, fragrant and heavy with flowers. There was a single entrance, a tall arch with climbing red roses, guarded by golden automatons that she recognized with a shudder. Oh, how she had despised fighting these things once.

The sun had started to set, and she knew that it would hang in perpetual dusk for hours to come. That was the nature of twilight at this time of the year, to shed everything in a treacherous glow. It concealed things that daylight would have revealed, and in return offered misleading shadows in the corner of your eye.

The rose arch that led to the inner sanctum of the Venadhal garden didn't need a gate to hide what happened inside, as the gloom covered everything naturally. Two elven sentinels wearing gilded armor crossed scythes over the entrance, and at the sight of their group, uncrossed them, with a bow of respect to the guard who accompanied them. They walked beneath the arch and found themselves in a tunnel of ancient, twisting honeysuckle. Darkness and the scent of the flowers mixed with that of damp, dewy earth assaulted her senses, and she let out a shaky breath of pure pleasure. Sulime let out a soft sigh of contentment next to her, but Dhen said nothing, just walked ahead of them, his eyes wide in wonder at the fireflies zooming through the flowers.

When they exited the other side of the tunnel, a clearing opened before them, where all plant life was even more lush than in the rest of the kingdom. A system of water springs flowed all around the roots of the Vhenadhal, gossamer-thin bridges bowing over them from place to place. The grass was dotted with thousands of tiny forget-me-nots, and the path that started at the main gate continued snaking to the left and right of the tree, framing it like a golden necklace.

At the foot of the tree, nestled between gigantic roots, a long feast table was laid, with the thrones she already knew all too well arranged behind it. To her left, numerous long tables with food and drink were lined up one after the other, slender flowering arches sweeping over them. The glowing lamps teeming with fireflies cast a low, otherworldly glow over everything.

To the right of the path, flowering gazebos were arranged. When she looked more closely, she realized they too were seating areas, but ones that offered privacy and seemed far more luxurious than those on the left. They were already occupied by people who were all staring at them with unnerving interest. Their golden guard ushered them to the left and sat them at the table closest to the thrones, something which she didn't really appreciate one bit, but for the nth time that night, took in stride.

She found the source of the drumming, a group of musicians, to the farthest left of the tree, with instruments that looked most alien to her. She could, though, identify the drums, and behind them was a rather burly elf in all black, or maybe midnight blue, with a vallaslin she could not recognize on his face. He was beating at his instruments of choice unceasingly, eyes closed, lost to the world.

They all made themselves comfortable at their table, on instinct, huddling into each other. There were chairs on both sides, and neither of them wanted to end up next to a stranger, be they a Chosen or not. The tables were laid for a feast, but were empty of food, which was perhaps planned to arrive later. They did, though, have large pitchers of some sort of drink in front of every chair, and an abundance of fruit of all kinds, half of which she had never tasted, nor seen in her entire life.

She scanned the area in search of Solas, but unless he was in one of the fancy gazebos, hiding and watching her from the shadows, she didn't spot him, so she turned her attention to the food and drink. Luong had already poured himself what looked like sparkling wine and added a fistful of strawberries to the glass. The liquid bubbled in contact with the fruit, and Luong raised it towards her and Sulime.

Slowly and in excited silence, the other Chosens started filling in and taking their seats, each group of three accompanied by a golden sentinel. Their table was filled, and strangers surrounded them. She realized they were seated with Mythal's chosen, judging by their midnight-colored outfits and silver crowns that framed their faces, before sweeping back into small, horn-like points. They were whispering to each other and seemed just as unnerved, yet excited, as the three of them were.

It didn't take long for some of the others to reach out for the pitchers. "Must I drink alone?" Luong asked.

"If we start now, we won't remember anything tomorrow morning," quipped Sulime.

"Well, you see, dear Sulime, that is precisely my plan," he laughed and boldly grabbed both Rook's and Sulime's glasses to serve them wine. "It is polite to pour for the ladies," he said as he did just that. "Strawberries? Or maybe blueberries, raspberries?" he waved towards the overflowing bowls of fruit. Rook chose the strawberries and Sulime the raspberries, and he eagerly prepared their poisons of choice.

"Elvhen wine..." Sulime whispered as her fingers wrapped around the delicate, gilded leg of the chalice. "In truth, I will probably never get the chance to taste it. Why waste any time?" She raised her own glass, and Rook, both eager and yet reluctant, followed suit.

All three clinked their glasses together and drank. The wine was light and sweet but not overly so, with a soft bitterness balancing it all. It tasted like juicy, ripe fruit that had ripened next to bitter herbs. It triggered one fleeting memory of a river bank and a weeping willow, which was quickly gone, like the beating of a butterfly wing. She knew that memory. A sweet moment she shared with her father on the banks of the river that flowed near her home realm.

Hope and happiness bloomed in her chest, coiled around the unquenchable longing for her past. Bittersweet, like the wine, yet hope was far greater than pain, and for a moment she could glimpse how events would unfold henceforth, and lead her to the victory she so craved.

"Oh, this is..." she started and looked up at Luong who was watching her with the same wistful expression on his handsome face, but before any other word could be uttered, a great rumble shook the glasses and cutlery on the table, and it was followed by a deep, horrifying roar. Rook jumped from the table, but the guard shoved her back down into her chair with one swift push on both of her shoulders.

The tree branches moved as if swept by a great wind, and when she looked up, she saw the beating of wings.

"Oh, I know what this is," gasped Sulime.

Rook knew as well, and she had fought enough of them to be gripped by dread. Her mind wildly reminded that she didn't carry a weapon, but then quickly remembered that no weapon that she could have carried was capable of bringing down a dragon.

More roars that ended in otherworldly melodic trills resounded from everywhere, yet louder and closer. Not one breath later, in the clearing beyond the tree, a very familiar creature landed, the land shaking as if gripped by an earthquake under its feet. This time, the guard let them stand, a small mercy as even the nobles had emerged from the gazebos to stare. Murmurs and gasps were everywhere. She bit her lip painfully, rage and pain overwhelming her. The last time she had seen this beast, it had Solas's throat in its great jaws.

Unblighted, the creature was admittedly stunning. Its body was covered in golden scales that glinted in the warmth of the sunset, its two crowns glorious and fearsome, its eyes shining like emeralds, bright and healthy.

She took another deep swig of the elvhen wine and balled her hands into tight fists, watching in awe and fear as Elgar'nan himself was on its back. She had never known that they rode these things. Yet again, why wouldn't they? Why even have a dragon if you're not going to ride it?

He led the dragon beneath the tree, slowly and methodically, and when he stopped, several men dressed in identical dark leather garb ran to him. The dragon obediently lowered its great head to the forest floor, allowing its master to descend, and once Elgar'nan was on the ground, the men expertly took over the dragon. They seemed to be dragon keepers, for they had special outfits, knew exactly what to do, and, most of all, Lusacan obeyed them completely. That is when she realized that the musicians had changed their song, beating a military-style drum rhythm. However, as Elgar'nan walked past them, he lifted his right hand towards them, and they immediately stopped all sounds.

Bedecked in some sort of ritualistic robe of gold and white, a long winged cape, the crown she knew all too well on his forehead, he walked towards the Evanuris tables, Desmal running behind him, but being utterly ignored. He seemed angry, seething, and everyone in the crowd could sense it, because you could cut the silence with a knife. He sat on his throne, hands on the armrests, a grim reminder of the last battle when he awaited them in the archon's seat.

Servants scurried around him like bees, and Desmal stood behind his throne whispering in his ear. A servant poured him wine, and he immediately lifted the glass with a bejeweled hand, drinking deeply. When he finished the glass and placed it on the table, the servant poured again and then, at his master's swift hand wave, scurried away.

Elgar'nan made a short grimace at something Dismal spoke in his ear, and Lucasan roared somewhere from behind the tree where the dragon keepers had taken it. Desmal immediately stopped talking and stood up straight, almost sinking into the tree bark behind him.

That creature's roar awakened pure fear within her. She wished all those memories would just disappear, or rather, the fear they came with.

"Where are the others?" whispered Sulime, echoing what everyone was probably thinking.

Rook looked carefully around, at the other chosens, noting they all seemed anxious. The atmosphere was unnerving and suffocating, despite the fragrant air and pleasant coolness of evening. No one said a thing, waiting for Elgar'nan to allow them to even exist, and he seemed to enjoy keeping them under such tension immensely, because a small smile was on his face as his eyes swept over everyone.

"Very well," he suddenly said and stood up. His voice echoed across the entire clearing under the tree, booming louder than it should have, considering how far he was. Desmal's back got even straighter if that were possible. "The feast may commence," he added, opening his arms wide in invitation. "No need to be coy when celebrating your emperor. Enjoy yourselves in my name. Nothing gratifies me more than the happiness of my cherished subjects." His voice had a hint of irony to it, or perhaps it was his anger that still simmered under the surface.

Desmal was all but vibrating at his shoulder, wanting to say something, but Elgar'nan acted as if he wasn't there. Everyone erupted in cheers and chanted his name again and again, as on the day of the Naming.

Sulime and Dhen'luin did the same, and Rook had to join in so that she didn't seem out of place, though she only mouthed along, rather than utter his name. She kept her eyes on him and Desmal, though, very curious about what was happening behind the scenes. Desmal was whispering from behind him again, while he just kept his eyes on the crowd. He turned to Desmal, spoke a few words, and again lifted his hand to silence the other man. Desmal retreated once more.

Servants carrying food marched in, the musicians started playing again, and all seemed well, or so she preferred to think. The Evanuris table was filled first, and then the ones under the gazebos. Lastly, food arrived for the Chosens as well. Entrées that she could barely recognize were laid in front of them, and she realized how hungry she really was at the sight of them. There were canapés with what looked like pickled fish, and fish roe, others with cheeses and fruit, or mysterious spreads decorated with flowers and colorful sprouts. Other platters held various types of smoked meats, fish, seafood on skewers, oysters, and sauces of all types, all arranged artistically, to depict flowers or animals.

It was dizzying and confusing, and she just wanted to try them all. She piled her plate with a little bit of everything and dug into a delicious cream cheese and grape canapé, knowing full well it would yet again numb her mind and banish her fears. She let a smiling Luong refill her glass, and just as she was about to slurp another oyster, she heard the unmistakable sound of dragon roars. This time, the crowd didn't get quite as flustered. They had food and drink in their stomachs, and Elgar'nan's arrival had desensitized them. Rook agreed and was excited to see more Evanuris spectacle.

The keens and wails were high-pitched and much more intense this time, and Lusacan answered with deeper ones from wherever he had been taken. The flapping of wings could be heard, but not seen. She glanced at Elgar'nan, curious to see how he would react to whatever was about to happen next. He was sipping his wine and looking utterly unaffected by the display. Not even when two dragons, one bright green and the other brass and glimmering, landed, making the glasses shake and even topple, did he offer any reaction.

The gaggle of dragon keepers appeared again, almost toppling over each other, in their chase to reach the two creatures.

The green one was larger than the brass one, and Andruil jumped effortlessly off its back, Ghilan'nain following close after her, just as agile. They had been riding together. June was on the back of the brass one, and he descended elegantly down its lowered neck, his golden armor covering him up to his neck, long dark hair left free on his shoulders. Andruil was crowned with an entire moose rack, gilded in gold spirals from tips to base. Her clothes were revealing as always, with winding, braided forest-green fabric covering the essentials, but leaving the rest bare to show off her sinewy arms and narrow waist. Ghilan'nain wore a similar outfit, but in creams and whites and slightly more demure.

The crier announced her titles, and Andruil looked at the crowd with a proud smile before sauntering to the table, Ghilan'nain following her close behind. They both sat one chair away from Elgar'nan, seemingly following the same order from the Naming ceremony. June nodded politely towards the crowd while the crier announced his titles as well, and Rook decided he must be one of the few decent ones.

She took another sip of wine and wondered again where Solas was. She was bordering on angry now, even though she was aware he had many other things to do than watch over some stranger he caught in a hunt he went on every year. Their relationship was not the same as it used to be in her first life, but she had a hard time separating the Solas from her time, who was gone, from this young and red-blooded rogue wearing his face. She just hoped he wouldn't arrive with Mythal on her dragon.

As if on cue, the other Evanuris arrived, and that with a whole fanfare and a carriage. It was the way she had expected them all to make their entrances, rather than angry, and on dragon-back.

The main entrance opened magically, the honeysuckle tunnel folding in on itself, to let a big, glimmering silver and white carriage, pulled by white horses, pass through. Once it did, the tunnel rose again out of nothing and reshaped itself. The horses galloped on the golden pathway and up to the tree, stopping just where the path parted in two. A page jumped from the front of it and ceremoniously opened a door, while the crier announced the newcomers.

"Great Mythal, the All-Mother, The Great Protector, Our Empress of Love and Mercy," the crier called out, and Mythal exited the carriage wrapped in a mantle that shimmered like a starlit sky. Her crown framed a face that expressed cold, otherworldly beauty. Rook couldn't keep her eyes on her for too long. Something in the way she moved and looked overwhelmed her more than she would have ever expected, and the fact that it was now that she truly realized and acknowledged how much she looked like Solas made her gasp. He had created himself in her image, Rook thought with a strange pain in her chest. A group of ladies in waiting exited the carriage and followed her as she glided to her seat next to Elgar'nan.

"Sylaise, the Hearthkeeper, protector of the eternal flame, healer and guardian of our people's heritage," the voice said, just as the woman Rook knew all too well, emerged. She was as lovely as ever, decked in a myriad of green hues, and crowned with a golden crown not that different from the one Rook wore.

She was probably the first of all the Evanuris to offer a genuine smile, and it had an instant effect on the crowd. She was followed by two ladies in waiting, and Rook wondered how so many people fit in that carriage. It wasn't small by any means, but by now she had counted at least 7 occupants.

"Solas, Spirit Speaker, Second to Mythal," the crier continued, and Rook's heart skipped a beat. When she finally saw him, the tension she had gathered slipped away from her bones like flowing water. She had numbed her fears with enough distractions, but nothing compared to finally seeing a familiar face. His face, in particular.

He was as beautiful as she expected, with his hair braided with golden thread on the sides, a black and brass tunic, adorned with a fur-lined, black cape that swept the ground as he walked. To her delight, he scanned the crowd before following Mythal and nodded at a few people he recognized. His eyes stopped on hers as well, and he gave her a short nod and a lingering stare. She fought not to grin like an idiot.

He rushed after Mythal, and when he caught up with her, they whispered to each other for a few moments. She nodded with an indulgent smile, he bowed to her, and headed for the gazebos.

Rook followed him with her eyes as much as she could before he disappeared into the darkness that shaded the gazebos in the farthest back of the area. She foolishly hoped he'd come talk to her, so, almost kicking herself, she slumped back into her chair and decided to keep her wits about herself and her expectations in check.

When Falon'din and Dirthamen made their appearance, Rook, Sulime, and Dhen'luin were deep in their glasses, and Rook's vision started to shift and sway. So it was no surprise that their arrival seemed absurd to her muddled mind. They materialized out of some sort of portal, framed by smoky darkness. She had a niggling feeling that it was all for show, though, and they had arrived by more mundane means, perhaps through the back where there must have been another entrance. Falon'din had a bone-white mask, adorned with owl ears and Dirthamen hair so long and dark that at first she mistook it for a mantle.

Dirthamen silently took his place at the table, still and observant, while his twin brother stood in front of the table, lifting his arms to the crowd. His Chosens jumped from their chairs and chanted his name.

"When will this end..." whispered Dhen'Luong.

"Remember what you've been telling me all day? Control yourself," she hissed. "We're done now. These are all of them. Also, what's the hurry?"

He said nothing, and she looked at him from the corner of her eye. He had a scowl on his face and clutched the wine glass. He hummed, took a deep breath, and released the glass, letting his hand fall into his lap.

"Dhen’Luong?" she hissed at him, a little bit more aggressively than she meant.

"What?" he turned to her with a perplexed look.

"Are you even listening?"

"Of course I am!" he whispered harshly.

"Adored followers," Elgar'nan's voice boomed, pulling both Rook and Luong from their rather strange interaction. He was standing and surveying the crowd, "Cherished children, I am delighted to have you here on this eve. In the name of my equals, I ask pardon for the delay. It appears some of us place action above reason," he let that sink in, the silence of his pause lingering awkwardly. Andruil sighed and rolled her eyes, but managed to stay silent. "Surely that must not delay the celebrations," he spoke, and whatever amplified his voice seemed louder than ever. "After all, you, mere followers, have been far more conscientious than the gods themselves, and for that I am immensely grateful." he inclined his head slowly, regally, a cold smile on his face.

Rook was simply dying to know what went down between them and was raptly watching all the Evanuris in hopes of finding one clue at least. Except for Andruil, who still had a sour look on her chiseled face, all were stone-faced.

The sun had almost set, but was still hanging, immense and blood-red on the horizon, just behind the Vhenadhal. It cast the tree and the Evanuris in a warm, shimmering glow.

Elgar'nan lifted his arms and closed his eyes as if in prayer, and no more whispers or even breaths were taken. Cool air carrying the scents of deep, dark forest and moss enveloped them like a velvet cloak. She felt light, free, and fully opened, as if her heart had bloomed as red as the serpentine roses twining over the arch above her. I know what your heart desires - power, will made manifest, delights, rapture… home... All lay before you for the taking. Under the sun, all is permitted...

"And thus, the Solstice night begins." Elgar'nan's voice, not as loud as before, but rather sinuous, gentle, reached her. The silence was almost material, only his voice existed, but when he lowered his arms, something broke, magic and energy flowing around her again, freer than ever before. "Enjoy yourselves without restraint, for this night all is permitted..." he whispered and sat back on his throne.

He gave one look to Mythal, said something to her, she nodded, and that was it. She felt like that was something that she should be considering, analyzing more, but she was in no mood for such a dull affair. There were better things to do than that.

The musicians started playing. Slowly, almost fearfully at first, and then letting the rhythm pick up as servants carrying the second course appeared.

"Ah, yes, more food!" Sulime laughed beside her, and when she looked at the others across from her, they were just as excited.

This time, the table was overflowing with roasted meats of all types, salads, warm bread that was torn up right before them to release clouds of steam, and a scent that made her mouth water. No one waited long to indulge, and neither did Rook, who immediately reached for a thick, juicy steak and what looked like a colorful, raw vegetable salad, containing produce she had never seen in her entire life.

The light, slightly pink wine was replaced with a heavy, red one that looked more like blood, the way it stained the sides of their chalices. She took a deep swig of it, and it flowed into her limbs, making her muscles tingle.

The musicians played something new, a drumming, rhythmical song, hypnotizing and enticing. Clearly a dancing tune, and it didn't take long for people all around to get up from the tables and dance. It was a well-known tune, because even Sulime and Luong stopped their eating and drinking, with excitement on their faces.

"You must offer me this dance," said Luong and, without much preamble, grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

"Damn it, you fool, stop," giggled Rook, almost spilling the wine all over herself. "I haven't even finished this..."

"Drink it fast! Go on, just drink it," he rushed her, and suddenly Sulime was behind her as well, also encouraging her to finish the glass and get on to dancing.

And so she did. She downed the other half of the glass in one go and let herself be pushed by Sulime and pulled by DhenLuong towards an area to the left of the table where a large clearing had been left free of tables. Floating lanterns marked the dance floor, and the other Chosen were everywhere, dressed in their master's colours and symbols, all dazed, flushed, and dancing with each other or around each other.

It didn't take long for Luong to grab her waist and pull her flush against him, while Sulime had her warm hands upon her shoulders. Both were more or less grinding against her, and it was dizzying, yet slightly confusing and awkward, while something within her was telling her to let go and enjoy everything. Maybe she should have had more wine, she thought to herself.

"Relax, Vara!" whispered Sulime in her ear, the other woman’s breath tickling her and making her erupt in giggles, which only made Luong chuckle and get even more daring, letting his hands travel lower to grab her ass hard. That seemed even crazier, and more laughter bubbled up. His pretty crown was slightly askew, and he had a mischievous smile on his face, while Sulime was gripped by giggles behind her. It was all wildly arousing, yet hilarious.

The drumming was beating in her very brains, and when Luong twirled her around and then back into his and Sulime's arms, she was sure she would have toppled over had they not sandwiched her.

"Is this part of the ritual?" she asked him.

"Anything can be part of the ritual, lethallan." His voice was husky, and the blood rose to her cheeks. "You can shape a ritual out of anything you wish," he whispered, and his hand traveled into her hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer so that he could talk to Sulime as well, who was flush against her back, her fingers digging hard into Rook's hips. "You agree, I'm sure, sister," Luong breathed in her ear, and Sulime hummed in agreement.

Was this normal? Was this how all the Chosens acted?

In a rare moment of clarity, Rook turned her head from the embrace of her two siblings-in-ritual, and, indeed, none of the others were better behaved. All were mildly drunk on spirits and magic and in various states of embrace, dancing, grinding against each other, whispering, the hypnotizing drumming guiding them and their fine clothes swaying, riding up, being pulled around, but not entirely removed.

When Luong spun them slowly around, she got a good view of the Evanuris' table and saw that all were caught in conversation, feasting or drinking, except for Mythal and Elgar'nan, who sat in their thrones looking ahead imperiously. She wondered if these two ever enjoyed anything in their eternal lives...

"The very air we breathe now is ritual. Magic, Vara..." spoke Sulime in her other ear, and Rook let her head fall back on the woman's shoulder.

Sulime's hand snaked up between Rook's and Luong’s bodies, slid up her ribs and chest, to wrap around her jaw, holding her in place as Luong’s mouth fell, hot and wet, on Rook's neck. Her legs felt even weaker than they did from the alcohol, and she tangled her fingers into the man's dark hair, pulling him closer, a gasp escaping her mouth.

A quiet question nudged at her subconscious. Will they do it right here, in front of everyone? In front of the Evanuris? In front of Solas, who was surely watching from somewhere, unseen? Will they just turn into a huge pile of naked bodies, caught in rapture like mating snakes?

That small voice in the back of her mind was mortified, but that voice was too quiet to reach her or make her want to stop.

That same voice also told her that the elven food and drink had muddled her mind, and she should have taken precautions.

But what precautions were there to take when everything was enchanted? When everything was a ritual? Luong's lips slowly dragged up her jaw, inching closer to her mouth, while Sulime had her teeth deep in the soft flesh where her neck met her shoulder, making her squirm in their hold.

No one was taking off their clothes, she noted, even though most were already kissing each other left and right. She allowed Luong to capture her mouth, and so he did, slow but eager, devouring her lips and nudging his tongue in. She opened her mouth to him, and fire bloomed in her stomach – raging, billowing, erasing all memory and doubts, for he tasted like the bitter wine, strawberries, and summer nights.

A haze of lust enveloped her, and she wanted nothing more than to have him inside her, so she kissed him back, just as hungrily, her hands running up his chest to wrap around his neck and pull him even closer.

Sulime's hands slipped away from her slowly, sensually, and she whispered in her ear, laughter tinging her voice, "The choice is made, and I saw my love nearby. Thank you for allowing me to taste you, sister..."

Rook broke the kiss, Luong following her, trying to reclaim her. She didn't get to say any words to Sulime because the woman was already lost in the crowd, talking to another woman, and pulling her away from a group she was tangled in.

She looked around again, lights and colours and sounds almost taking away her senses, but through the blurriness of it all, she noticed some of the Evanuris had descended to mingle with the crowds and claim their own prizes from the mass of undulating Chosens.

Falon'din had all three fawning over him, while Andruil had a young man in her grasp.

"Come to me..." whispered Luong in her hair and grabbed a handful of her ass to pull her flush against him. She groggily looked back at him, and his gaze was dark, lustful, the golden crown catching the dancing lights of the firefly lamps above them.

Just as her defenses were falling, and she was about to give in to whatever he had planned for her, she felt a hand on her waist, warm and with a very familiar heaviness. She knew who it was before he spoke into the same ear that Sulime had bitten and kissed earlier.

"May I take you away?" Solas's voice was steel wrapped in velvet.

Luong’s eyes were sharp suddenly, but he still had that lazy smile in the corner of his mouth. "Ah, to what do we owe the pleasure? Come to steal the prey others have caught," he asked Solas, his grip on her waist as firm as ever.

"I didn't know mere Chosens to be branded with vallaslin are allowed such language towards their betters? Does your tongue burden you, little lord?"

"And I was not informed that any courtier could claim the appointed Chosen of a god, but here we are, my lord." Luong drawled, the "my lord" poison in his mouth.

"Seeing as her god does not make such claiming directly, I consider it only fair that an equal of his does," Solas gave Dhen a wicked smile and snaked his hand around her waist.

"You consider yourself an equal to the Sun himself?" Luong laughed deeply, his eyes glinting with mirth, while his fingers clenched into the delicate fabric of her dress.

Solas answered in kind by moving his hand higher, up her ribs. "We are equals indeed. All of us have fashioned our bodies from the same matter, and neither has been born of the Fade before the other."

"Existence as a mere afterthought of the Fade pales in the face of sheer will made manifest," spoke Luong imperiously, and Rook stilled. The music and the constant movement around them disappeared as an eerie feeling took over her again, the same she had, eons ago, it seemed, in the Fire Hearth Inn. The skin on her arms prickled in goosebumps. "However, I do not expect you to understand such a notion," he finished with a mocking bow to his head.

"Never shall you grasp the depth of such matters, little lord. I suggest you cease any and all efforts," Solas said, his fingers digging in her flesh.

The absurdity of the moment pulled her from her inebriated state long enough for all the lust and bliss to turn into anger. She shook them both off and stepped back, glaring. Luong’s had a fox-like smile twisting his lips, while Solas' was inquisitive, challenging.

"This is embarrassing! I am not some sort of toy that you can fight over like dogs," she said, her own rather shrill voice pulling her even more from the stupor she had been wallowing in all evening.

"The choice is always yours, milady," spoke Solas in an overly polite way, as if he didn't just have his claws in her ribs a few seconds earlier.

She could choose, of course. Normally, it wouldn't have been a hard choice. In her time, she and Solas had found and enjoyed each other in dreams, but she had always wanted and yearned to feel him in the flesh upon her, and she knew he shared that desire. Now, though, her mind addled by elven wine and her body reacting far too strongly to Luong's very presence, the choice proved less easy.

There could be only two choices.

"My choice?" she huffed. "Speaking of choices. You have a myriad of choices around you, my lord. Why me, when I was here with someone already, and, either way, I am already a god's chosen?" Solas had that mischievous, yet predatory glint in his eye.

"Ah, so you want the All Father himself?” asked Luong, and Rook's cheeks burned.

"No, this isn't what I meant! Also, Luong, please can you just keep your mouth shut for one moment?"

"That is impossible, dear Vara. It's not in his nature," said Solas sarcastically. "But to answer your question..."

"She clearly wants me," Dhen cut Solas off, his eyes never leaving hers.

"But to answer your question," repeated Solas, punctuating each word, "Or rather questions, the All Father does not...participate as others do in the revelries. It is only natural for the emperor not to expose himself to possible mockery by placing himself in sensitive...positions." A smirk and a quirked eyebrow to punctuate his little jabs, and then he started approaching her, a wolf stalking prey.

The crowd was thinning, many couples leaving for secluded places to consummate their so-called choices, so his presence was all the more oppressive. She didn't back down, even if the rich furs, braids, the metallic glints of his robes did nothing to drown out his magnetism. She straightened her back and looked at him down her nose, as best as she could, even though he was one head or more taller than her. Yes, she was taller in this world. She remembered when they first met physically in Minrathous, and she could barely reach his shoulder. That was one thing that she could thank Mythal for. She always wanted to be taller.

"That being said, it was I who found you in the woods. No reason to approach another Chosen whom I do not know and who does not know me," Solas said.

"Make your choice, Vara," Luong said smoothly, and so she did. Looking between both of them, mouth quirked, in fake pondering.

Chapter Text

"Both or neither," Rook said, emboldened to take it one step further. She might die soon, so what was there to lose?

"I do not share," said Luong, but Solas chuckled.

"I would, if my lady so desires,"  Solas said, making a mock bow. "I do not hold to such pretense, even more so on the day of the All-father. We must celebrate him fully, hedonistically, as he deserves. Honor him with..."

"Alright then, neither," she cut Solas off, and didn't linger to watch their reaction, but turned and walked off.

She made a detour to her table, filled her glass with blood-red wine, and took it with her as she headed for the thick rose arch that opened to the dark woods that she had seen from the carriage on her way here. The arch was to the right of the Vhenadhal, and escaping there seemed like the right choice.

She didn't quite know why, but she couldn't choose either of them. She needed more wine, or perhaps she just didn't want to hurt any of them, because now, after almost a month in Luong's company, she cared for him as well. The knowledge that he had been acting strange haunted her, yes, but it did not dampen her connection to him. Both he and Sulime had become siblings of sorts, even though it seemed absurd to feel that way after a little over a month here but all emotions were heightened in this world. All feelings were stronger and connections went far deeper than she was used to. 

Had Solas not appeared, she would have given in to Luong, she was certain. As always, Solas broke the spell, throwing her into decisions that weren't quite her own. His special talent, in her own time and this one.

She took a deep swig of the wine just as she stepped through the rose arch and into the forest, and memories of his intervention in Weisshaupt assaulted her. The situation had been dire as they were all about to die under a flood of darkspawn. Before the final battle, that had been the worst day of her life, and all she had to do to survive was allow him to offer help. In Weisshaupt, she did just that, gave him permission to intervene, and he took the reins of her body, pushing her conscience into a small corner of her mind, as he wielded magic so powerful that, after he released her, she collapsed and had to be carried out by Davrin.

It was all about permission with him. Even when he used you for less than palatable goals, you'd still realize that at some point, you did allow him to do it, even if against your better judgment... She sighed as she aimlessly wandered through the trees. Now it would at least be a well-informed permission because she had read and memorized his contracts.

At least most of them, she giggled to herself. 

All the rational thoughts she could hang onto now wouldn't quell the burning within her, and as wine filled her mouth again, she realized that maybe, just maybe, the wine had something to do with it and perhaps getting another glass wasn't the best idea.

Everything was so chaotic, though, that it didn't even matter. There was so much cause and effect to everything she was doing and was being done to her that she often just couldn't keep up with it all, and she just wished she could rest. Take a break.

The smell of pines enveloped her, and she recognized the same trees she had seen in Sylaise's forest, though they were fewer here, and interspersed with what looked like sycamores, their pale limbs reaching for the twilight skies.

The drums were still beating hypnotically in the distance, and soft giggles and whispers could be heard from the shadows. Some of the revelers had the same idea as her and chose this forest, though for different reasons.

Were the reasons really that different, though?

A rush of electricity ran through her body as she sipped the last of the wine, letting the chalice hang between her fingers, walking without any direction.

No, the reasons were not different at all. She had to admit it to herself at least when she was on her own. There was no reason to be hypocritical. Honesty to oneself was vital, especially considering her role in this world.

Yes, she had let the forest choose for her. She left knowing one, or maybe both men, would follow her, and if they didn't, someone would find her and soothe the ache that threatened to drive her mad. She'd walk and walk and linger and wait, until something changed, until the forest, or the fade itself, offered something.

The forest was dotted with berry bushes heavy with fruit, and she sampled each one, her fingers and lips stained in red and purple.

Glimpses of naked flesh danced through the shadows, silhouettes moved swiftly together or separately, chasing or embracing each other, and she walked deeper into the inviting green, following an invisible pull towards something she couldn't define.

A grassy mound, with a few hydrangea bushes, like sentinels around it, appeared in front of her. The last rays of the setting sun cast long shadows and a soft golden glow upon the grass. Enticed beyond measure, she almost ran to it and fell into the plush grass, which was more than grass. It had an incredibly soft and mossy layer underneath, with long, feather-like blades growing from it that tickled her palms and legs as she slid her limbs through them.

If someone were to come to her here, it would be perfectly fine. If not, it would still be fine. She'd just linger there in peace for however long it took for the festivities to reach that part where she had to receive the vallaslin. She should have taken the whole decanter, she thought to herself as she glanced at the empty chalice lying in the grass next to her. The easiest companion to deal with...

Soft steps awakened her from her reverie, and she let herself fall in the grass fully, eyes closed, eager to guess who it was, rather than see.

"Shh," she said, lifting her hand, the steps stilling at her voice. "Don't say a word. Don't tell me who you are. In the spirit of this night, I want to guess. If we already know each other, approach me and touch me. If we don't, you can speak," she whispered breathlessly. The very thought of being touched again, a blade of desire through her belly.

The person didn't move for a moment, and she was almost disappointed, until the crunch of leaves underfoot and the presence of another, almost crowding the surrounding energy, made her heart rush.

When the faint glow of the sun behind her eyelids disappeared, and she felt the fur like grass beneath her shift, she smiled invitingly, knowing the other person was above her.

A brush of fabric on her legs, a cloak perhaps, and feather-like touches glided on her calf, inching up slowly. The inner layer of her dress had long slits on either side of her thighs and, lying down on her back, exposed her legs entirely.

The front of her dress between her naked thighs, her winged cloak splayed on the grass, hair tangled in the flowery crown - a bird waiting to be devoured, and he, whoever he was, whether Luong, or Solas, was eager to do just that.

The touches stopped just when he reached her upper thigh, and a breath later, she felt his hands in her hair, sliding beneath her head, to where the crown's clasp stood. He clicked it open and removed it, warm breath carrying the scent of spiced wine tickling her cheeks. She was grateful to be rid of the crown because it would have tangled her hair terribly.

Her hair was spilled around her and over her breasts, a layer of modesty over the revealing neckline of her dress. He avoided touching her bare skin, so when his hands descended to her chest, they followed the path drawn by her fiery locks, and he softly cupped a breast without disturbing a single strand. Her back arched into his hand, and she squeezed her thighs together, seeking some sort of relief. Inside of her, that flame was growing again, licking at her resolve and very wits.

He hummed softly, but it was mingled with a sigh, so she couldn't identify the voice, even though something inside her recognized him. She was playing a pointless game, more for his benefit than hers, to entice and intrigue, because deep in her soul, she knew it was him, just as earlier she had known she wanted both of them, almost in equal measure.

Layers of desire, laced with denial and acceptance, until she found out what she wanted and went after it. She always got what she wanted in the end, or at least she liked believing that.

His hand finally slid onto the bare skin of her upper chest, warm and large around her neck, to clasp her jaw firmly, holding her in place for his lips to cover hers. They kissed slowly, and she opened her mouth, softly moaning into him, the spiced wine on his lips as heady as if she had drunk it at that very moment.

He felt different and yet the same as she remembered him from her dreams. In her dreams, he was muted, distant, almost as if he had been kissing and touching her through veils of gossamer. Now he was so real that it hurt. Solid, heavy, invading, and overwhelming, the way she had imagined he'd be in reality.

Her hands, trembling slightly, clasped onto his fur collar, fumbling around for a clasp, anything to remove his heavy cloak that had now fallen around them. She wanted more and needed more. She wanted to feel his skin on hers and his weight crushing her.

She wanted it all...

"Hm, I find myself unable to follow the rules of the game I started..." she whispered against his mouth, and his lips curved into a smile. "Or rather, there is no need to play when I have already won... Solas..." she said and opened her eyes.

She was met by his violet eyes, brighter than ever, boring into hers, his mischievous smile letting her know he enjoyed it all as much as she did. His hair fell like curtains around them, alighted into embers by the slanted light of the setting sun.

"Too easy a game, then," he whispered. "The stakes should have been raised."

"I am sure you are better versed in games of all sorts," she said, and this time saw the clasp at his neck, opened it, and pushed off his cloak. "Next time you plan the game..."

He chuckled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"You are already planning a next time?" he said, and grabbed her thigh, wrapping her leg around his waist.

Another surge of desire ran through her violently at the very feel of him between her legs, and she crossed her ankles just over his lower back, pulling him closer.

He ground into her hard - his armor painful against her naked thighs, but the slight pinch and the coolness of steel on heated flesh felt good. Punishing, but good. A reminder that she was alive and well, and whatever may come would be just another part of the fate which had befallen her.

"Not plan..." she stalled to look at him more and deeper, to drown into those amethyst eyes that she so loved. "Just imagining. Projecting... Anything is possible, is it not?" she whispered.

"That is true indeed," he murmured. "Anything is possible here..." a whisper, and then his mouth crushed to hers again. This time his kiss was warm and overpowering, his tongue sliding into her mouth, teeth softly sinking into the fullness of her lips, leaving nothing unexplored or unconquered.

Shaking hands held onto his tunic as if he would disappear had she released him, and then she sank her fingers into his soft hair, pulling him even closer if that were possible. He groaned into her mouth, and it rumbled through her chest, the sound coiling deep within her, filling her and heightening her desires to a fever pitch.

It had never been enough with him. The encounters they had in dreams only deepened the desire to touch him, to feel him, and have him. Those dreams only made everything worse, rather than stave off a burning desire. And now he was real, here, and she was burning. She would not miss this opportunity, no matter what.

She wondered how she could even consider Luong earlier, when Solas was right in front of her, but then the other man's face and words appeared before her mind's eye, joined by a quiet sense of longing.

Doubts were shattered when Solas's hand slid beneath the top of her gown, pushing the criss-crossing fabric with ease, fingers wrapping around a breast, squeezing and fondling, pinching her nipple with enough pressure to send shocks of pleasure to her very core. She keened desperately against his mouth, feeling his smile rather than seeing it.

He released the kiss, lips dragging softly over her jaw, on the side of her neck, lingering on her clavicles, the hollow of her neck, and then slowly, along the middle of her chest and between her breasts. Then lower and lower still, along her belly button, until he reached the top of her mound, and she gasped at the feel of soft, warm puffs of air on skin.

Her cheeks burned as she looked down at him. Her legs were over his shoulders, and he was unwrapping the tangle of skirts bunched on her hips, as if they were ribbons on a gift. In mere moments, she was bare before him, and as dizzy with desire as she was, there was no trace of shame or urge to close her thighs, which must have pleased him greatly, because when he traced her inner thigh and sank his teeth into the soft flesh there, a satisfied smile was on his lips.

Warmth and pain and pleasure ran through her, and she writhed beneath him, unsure whether to squirm away or tangle her hands in his hair and encourage him further down. He didn't need much encouragement as his hand slid down and splayed on her, the pressure making her spine arch on its own accord.

Her pretty, red underclothes were slid away, and his fingers were on her and inside of her, just as his hot mouth enveloped her fully. She clamped a hand over her mouth, stopping an outright scream from escaping. A silly thing in retrospect, considering what was happening in the forest.

"There, there..." he whispered against her flesh. "No need to restrain yourself, da'len... Let go..." he said as he slipped another finger inside of her, twisting his hand slowly, his tongue sliding up and down in unison.

Her hands clutched the small grasses around her, digging into the green carpet, wildly surprised that it was so thick she couldn't reach the soil beneath. As if the feel of the earth beneath her would have stopped the swirl of sensations threatening to drive her mad. Nothing would have stopped it, and he wouldn't let her regain her senses any time soon either.

When she was about to reach her climax, he stopped, and her hips jerked up, seeking release. She removed her hand from her mouth and looked at him, kneeling between her wide-open legs, eyes heavy with desire and lips slightly parted.

"More?" he teased, and she all but cried.

"This isn't the game I had in mind, Solas..." she said and watched him remove the rest of his leathers, slowly, methodically, enjoying her eyes on him.

"Your game is over, thus mine begins..." he said huskily as the last of his intricate armor was discarded, and he was completely bare before her. The only adornment, the golden thread, twined in his side braids. "You did say I must plan the next one, did you not?"

"Fair," she said, and managed to pull together a confident enough smile. He was almost painfully beautiful, every part of him without flaw, and, for some reason, it brought a shadow of pain in her soul that she quickly banished. "So your plan is to seduce me? Uncharacteristically simple..."

He continued looking at her, a complicit yet calculating smile on his face. "You surely know what defines me..." he whispered, and his eyes slid down her body.

Of course, he'd caught onto her slip, which wasn't quite a slip. No matter what awaited her, she continued planting the seeds so that one day she could confess everything about herself.

"As I have told you once before, I can... use my unerring instinct to perceive the hidden..." she said, which earned her a small, arrogant huff.

"Remove your garments, for me," he said. "I, too, prefer the hidden revealed."

"As if there was still something hidden about me..." she countered, but slid off her clothes and all other adornments, all the same.

He helped by taking each piece and placing it on top of his own clothes, being particularly rough with the winged cape, throwing it mercilessly on top of the pile.

He hummed from deep in his throat, "I believe there is plenty hidden." He bent down on all fours and slid between her thighs as if he belonged there, effortlessly, no need to coax her in any way. "And I mean to unravel it all," he whispered and lay on top of her, skin unnaturally hot, as she remembered from their dream encounters, yet real. Jarringly so. Flesh and bone upon flesh and bone, as they never had been before.

Hands grabbed his waist hard, and her legs wrapped around his hips; she all but begged him in, yet he didn't immediately oblige, which drove her mad. Another hot, disarming kiss and a hand in her hair pulled her head back hard, and they both drank each other's gasps and moans.

She felt him slide between her folds, hard and large, almost there, but not quite, again and again, until she couldn't help the trembling in her hips, trying to capture him within her somehow. His hand snaked beneath her, and he grabbed her ass hard, pulling her flush against him, just as he oh so slowly slipped within. Not fully at first, not wholly the way she desired it, but enough to make her open herself wider, knees almost up to her ears as she tried offering it all.

"Mmm," his voice rumbled through her, down her throat, and into her belly. "You are such a delight," he whispered against her lips. "Everything..." he pushed in deeper, drawing out a desperate gasp from her. "...perfection..." he groaned as he entered her fully in one smooth glide, making her sob and clench so tightly that it bordered on painful.

He pulled out maddeningly slowly, each part of his length igniting frayed nerves, before sinking back in one punishing thrust. They fell into a pace of desperation and abandonment, pushing her closer to the climax that had been denied her, and just when she was so close, he pulled out again, and before she could protest, he flipped her over as if she weighed nothing. It all happened so fast that she was looking dumbfounded and empty-brained at the pretty, little green flowers growing from the grassy carpet. She hadn't seen the vegetation so up close, and she was fascinated to find that what looked like grass was made up of minuscule flowers.

As if he had suddenly decided that she should investigate the vegetation even closer, he tangled his fingers into her hair and pushed her face into the mossy ground, aligned himself with her, and slid in to the hilt.

She yelped at the sudden sting running through her belly, but yet again, he didn't give her any respite before mercilessly pumping into her, each thrust drawing a moan from her slack mouth. Her hands flailed around, seeking something to hold onto, whether it was the ground or his thighs. He didn't allow her that either and, releasing her hair, he caught both of her wrists in one hand, crossing them over her lower back to use for purchase. His other hand held onto the softness where her thigh met her hips almost painfully.

Pleasure built within her, like a storm threatening to destroy everything in its path, and when it finally hit, it felt like electricity passed through her body, from her spine, and through every nerve and cell, alighting it all. Mind numb, brain rattling with every brusque jerk of his hips, completely at his mercy, all she could do was arch her back and lose her mind, and lose it she did, because he didn't wait for her to ride the wave in bliss. No, he dragged her with him as he chased his own climax. The sensation was overwhelming, suffocating, and she came again, joining him as he spilled within her, rough, uneven thrusts making her yelp in shock.

His hand fell into the plush grass just in front of her face, and he half collapsed on top of her, hot breath upon her cheek, hair tickling her back.

"A well...played," deep breath in, "game," he gasped and planted a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the corner of her mouth.

Shallow breaths in, trying to regain her senses through the spell he had put on her. "Was this even a game?"

"Everything can be a game," he said and lay on top of her, enveloping her in his overwhelmingly hot embrace.

"The same has been said to me about magic, that everything can be a ritual..."

His low laughter coursed through her spine as his hand slid along her body, cupping her left breast.

"And so it is, or rather so mote it be..." he whispered groggily, that disconcerting amusement lacing every tone.

"Is everything we do here so significant?" she asked, her voice weak even to her ears.

"Yes!" he announced with more conviction than ever. "It is a rule of the whole of Elvhenan! Everything you do, every move, every word spoken, every thought laced with emotion, every action led by will, can shape reality. Thus...." he whispered and slid a hand down her belly to press on her core, alighting her again, "...what has transpired between us tonight shall bind us ever more," a whisper and another grind into her, eliciting a trembling gasp, "whether we want it or not."

"And do you want it..." she gasped as he slid between her folds once more, half soft, yet still eager.

"I want so many things." he grabbed a handful of her hair and turned her head to him, capturing her lips in a messy kiss that she opened her mouth to. "And I mean to have them all," he murmured, making her writhe beneath him again.

"Wait...I," she cried out softly, as his fingers found her and entered her deeply, taking her thoughts apart again. Moans that didn't even sound like her escaped her throat, broken and needy and half embarrassing, tangling with his confident hums of approval.

She once again became that coil within, that orb of hedonism and desire, and nothing more. Instinctive, feral, not human, and all she wanted was to be filled, but as a tether would yank a wild horse back, a melodic, yet eerie gong broke the enchantment, and she gasped.

"Just a little longer..." he grumbled into her neck, but it was too late. That sound had a strange effect on her, and every fiber within her tensed.

"I don't think I have longer," she said, and twisted beneath him as if she would have ever had the strength to budge him.

He laughed softly at her efforts. "Mmm, the more you struggle, the more the urge to keep you here grows."

"Would you disobey the Emperor in such a way? Or even the Empress?"

He rose on his elbows and looked down at her. "There is no law that stops anyone from... delaying a Chosen. If it occurs, the fault is solely on the Chosen."

"So you'd get me in trouble knowingly and even intentionally," she asked, fear and offense in her tone.

"If that were to happen, I would claim my mishap and take the blame for you," he said as he softly brushed a stray hair off her forehead.

"Then that would get you in trouble..."

His smile held far too much satisfaction to make her feel even marginally safe. He slid off of her and gathered his armor after nudging her pile of flimsy little things closer.

"I trust her Divine Grace to exonerate me of any guilt," he said proudly as he started adding the layers of his entire ensemble.

She suddenly felt very cold and exposed, even though the last embers of the sunset were still twinkling through the grass. Will this day ever end? It felt like the twilight had lasted for hours, and it probably did.

She put on her bright red undergarments and then slid into her dress, which could have just as well been made of pure guilt, the way it hung off her shoulders.

"So would she just forgive it all?"

"I am her most trusted..." he took a short break, looking as if he was finding the right word for what he meant to Mythal, "advisor," he quickly added with an incline of his head. "Her knowledge of my nature is far too deep to take such a thing seriously."

She felt like she wanted to cry. "And is any of it serious? To you?" she asked, and just then she felt something hot and wet slide down her inner thigh, filling her with even more shame at her lack of self-control. The worst timing for that to happen, but in all honesty, nothing has had good timing as of late.

He wasn't the Solas she knew. He wasn't her Solas. She would have to keep repeating this to herself at all times, because it seemed that her mind, or rather, soul, refused to accept it. Her new prayer to the gods that she couldn't reach anymore.

His scoundrel little smile was back on as he plucked the winged cape off the ground, shook it off a couple of times, then draped it on her shoulders. He clasped it at her neck, then smoothed it out over her shoulders, with ostentatious care. Then his eyes slid back to hers, and he cupped her face into his hands, a gesture painfully familiar.

"My desires and choices are never not serious, my lady, Vara," he said softly, and to her chagrin, her heart fluttered, a reaction he probably sensed, for his expression softened.

The gongs and chimes fluttered through the woods again. The second calling.

She splayed her hands on his chest and tangled them in the fur collar that he had so easily and naturally put back on. He looked perfectly put together again, as if they hadn't just rolled through the grass just minutes earlier.

He pulled his hands away from her face and bent down to pick something off the ground. Her golden flower crown! She had forgotten about it...

"The time has come, truly," he said, and carefully placed the pretty thing on her head.

"Do I look... presentable?" she whispered. "I wouldn't want them to know..."

He ran his hands down from the crown of her head to the very ends of her hair, and she felt each strand move and tighten. "Now you do." Eyes ran across her face, calculating, sharp. "But surely this is magic you can perform, is it not?"

Did she now? She should have. She used to be able to perform small grooming spells, and here such magic should come far more naturally. She had to find ways to practice her magic. Safe ways and safe places, where no one would see or disturb her. Privacy was such a rare, precious thing here, though.

"Of course," she said, and took a step back away from him, weary of how deeply he seemed to read her. "I simply needed a mirror."

A few breaths of unspoken understanding passed between them. Neither knew the depths of the other, but they held each other's secrets nonetheless. It was a strange thing, but after the sobering heartache she felt just moments ago, it was also comforting. To know without knowing. It was enough for now, and they both agreed without words.

"After you, my lady," he made a mock flourish towards the general direction of the Vhenadahl, and she turned away from him, feigning confidence as she stepped down the grassy mound and into the growing darkness of the woods.

She couldn't possibly feel confident when adrenaline coursed through her limbs, replacing whatever afterglow she might still have had.

"I know it might not be allowed, but considering the rules we broke," she spoke softly, amusement in her voice, "could you tell me what I should expect?"

When she got no answer and neither did she hear his steps behind her, she stopped and turned towards where he should have been.

He was gone. She was alone.

She spun around, looking through every crawling shadow for his shape. "Solas..." she called out, but got nothing back.

Her heart started racing wildly, and the deep silence made it worse. The rhythmic drums still beat somewhere in the distance, as if they were the ceaseless heart of the Vhenadahl, but the wood was empty and getting ever darker. She called again a few times, and of course, as she expected, got no answer back, and something told her that she shouldn't make much noise in this silence that felt almost sentient.

The twilight that felt never-ending had so quickly given way to the night that she couldn't exactly tell when the last lights died. She could see through the darkness quite well, as all elves did, but the path she had come through was gone, if there had ever been one. A sea of trees that looked the same lay before her.

The drums were the only tether, and she followed them as quickly as she could.

When did all the others disappear? The forest was full of revelers when she had come here earlier, but then again, she was full of wine as well. Could she even trust herself? Considering what the wine made her do, surely not.

Anger rose within her. Sober, painful anger. She let herself fall into the arms of a man who didn't care for her and used her. Why did he do it anyway? Why was he so fixated on her? It really didn't matter since now he was done with her and just left her in the middle of the forest to fend for herself and suffer the consequences of being late for whatever awaited her at the hands of Elgar'nan.

Trash. She felt like trash, and there was nothing she could do to get back at him for what he did. How would she even name what he did? He had no obligations towards her anyway, did he? Nothing really tied him to her in this world. He didn't even know her. She had thrown herself in the arms of a memory. She thought she could find comfort in the arms of her own delusions.

A sob, half rage, half pain, escaped her throat, and she wiped her face off angrily with the wing of her cape. Tears were exactly what she needed at that moment. The Dreadwolf's seed running down her legs, tears, and an Elgar'nan themed cape on her shoulders. Really, the best outfit she had ever worn in her entire life.

The cape. She wanted to burn it as well. Just burn it all... and herself with it...

The gong went off again, and she ran even faster, hitching up her skirts and trying not to trip over the gnarly roots.

"Vara!" she heard the name far off in the distance, but because it wasn't hers, she didn't immediately react. The third call of her new name stopped her in her tracks.

Yes, yes. Vara is my name now. She feared she'd never get used to it, and she still hadn't made up a fake history about herself. Or rather, try to find out something about the real Vara'diel she had replaced, so she could play her role better. As if that mattered, considering she was late for the Vallaslin marking and potential sacrifice. Even if no sacrifice happened, she would probably get punished for being so late.

"Vara!! Over here!"

Luong. It was his voice. She'd recognize his voice anywhere... She stopped to look around for him, but just then she heard the sound of running. Fast and rhythmic, accompanied by frightened gasping - someone was running right towards her. She could spot a pale silhouette through the trees, and she wondered if it was Luong, but soon realized the person was shorter and appeared to be a woman.

The woods got darker, and a chill carrying the scents of cedars and smoke enveloped her. It felt refreshing after the sweltering heat of the day, yet also deeply unnerving.

Cold, sharp fear filled her, shuddering, suffocating. She needed to run, had to run, but that woman was doing the same thing, so whatever was on her trail had seen Rook as well. Her fingers twitched, the desire to summon magic she hadn't used in so long, building within her.

When the figure approached her, she barely made out a shock of deep red hair and a blur of white robes. "Get out of here!" screamed the woman, and then got lost through the trees. Two men soon followed, and for a moment Rook thought they were the ones chasing the woman, but when they almost bumped into her in their terrified flight, she knew they were running away from something as well.

Her right hand lifted, the flickering light in her palm throwing a sickly orange glow through the darkness, yet blinding her at the same time. She moved her hand left and right to see better, the sudden silence filling her with dread. Fog was gathering, crawling on the forest floor towards her, and humidity precipitated on her skin - clammy and cold, but she held onto her orb of light, the only comfort left.

The drumming didn't stop but got even faster, a rhythmic beating getting louder and louder. Whether she was in denial or confused by what was happening, it took some time for her to realize that the sound was approaching, rather than getting louder, and that it wasn't in fact drums at all. The festival drums were still rumbling far off in the distance.

This, though... This was in the woods.

Hooves... Were they hunting the Chosen on Hallas again? Was this another of Solas's stupid little games? It wouldn't have surprised her, she thought with annoyance, and she hung onto that feeling because rage felt better than fear. The urge to taunt and scream at them was uncontrollable, but at the same time, something stopped her.

Bushes and slender trees moved, and it didn't take long for the source of the sound to show itself, running at full speed straight towards her. It had antlers, but this was no Halla, and when it suddenly stopped mere steps away from her, she fell on her back. The surge of magic in her palm escaped uncontrolled in a blinding light that filled the surrounding area, enveloping the creature as well, making it screech in pain or maybe anger. Then her magic exploded into sparks, for a moment alighting the thing that now loomed over her.

It was big. So big that her mind couldn't quite comprehend what she was seeing. It almost reached the tree canopy, with antlers that looked like gigantic hands. Her head would have fit right into its maw.

A moose and not any moose...

Its deep growl vibrated through the ground as it lowered its great head to her, sniffing and rumbling wetly. Drool and foam were at its mouth, the stink of rot and animal piss made her gag, yet the eyes were intelligent. The thing looked at her coldly, measuring and assessing her, and her heart raced, fear tasting like metal on her tongue.

Her body tingled with energy once more, and her palms lit up with barely contained magic. She couldn't control it, yet neither could she summon exactly what she wanted. It all just manifested from within her, feeding off of her emotions. Eons ago, when she first arrived here, she cast a fireball at Fellasan and Indril, but that ability was now lost, or rather turned into something she couldn't understand.

The creature let out something between a roar and a grunt so loud and horrifying that she screamed along with it, and burning light erupted from her palms. It opened like petals around them both, and the creature squealed in pain, rearing up on its hind legs, then trampling hard on her.

She barely escaped being crushed under its great hooves by rolling away from it, then got up on all fours, crawling away. The thing followed, snorting and grunting and uprooting everything in its path, and she somehow found herself in the air, yanked by her clothes into the thing's mouth, then thrown back on the ground so hard that for a few moments her thoughts had scattered, and her vision went black.

When she came to, something big and soft nuzzled painfully into her back, pushing her around as if she were made of straw. She fought uselessly as the creature used its mouth to try to turn her over, hooves the size of her head stepping all around her. Another surge of magic was building up in her veins, and she knew it would only get her in more trouble, so she struggled to dampen it, yet to no avail. It would erupt again, barely singing the monster, and when that happened, it would surely trample her to death...

"Ilan*, stop!" a deep voice resounded from behind her, and the creature stilled, letting out a high yelping sound and finally removing its mouth from her back. She lay there on her stomach, cheek in the grass, not much different from how she had been lying under Solas less than an hour ago. She could have laughed, were she not so out of breath.

"What have we here?" a woman's voice she knew all too well lilted.

Andruil...

Steps crunched through leaves, and before Rook could turn to face the other woman, she was grabbed by the hood of the cape and yanked up to her knees.

"Oh, if it isn't the Emperor's Chosen!" Her voice was excited, unnervingly so. "You delayed the ceremony, dear fawnling. And somehow managed to disrupt my hunt! What an achievement!" Rough fingers grabbed her by the shoulders, and she was turned around. Andruil's chiseled face and golden eyes met hers, and she shuddered, the magic that by now she dreaded, bubbling within her again. "And you want to curse me!" she pouted and cocked her head to the side, not unlike a bird focusing on a bug. "Hm, or rather, you lack dominion over the compulsion. You burned Ilan as well. Did you know that?"

"I apologize for everything, My Lady," she droned out dispassionately, struggling to keep her emotions in check.

Andruil pulled her up to her feet in one smooth tug. "Hm, what fortune that you, out of all the revelers, should fall into my arms." She gave her a smile which softened her features in such a way that for a moment Rook was utterly enchanted with the Huntress's wild beauty. She had to say something, but no words could leave her mouth. The moose was looming just over its mistress's shoulder, watching her with sparkling, sentient eyes.

In another life, one she could barely remember, she had wished to meet these otherworldly, unfathomable beings. All of them, not only Solas and particularly in their prime. That wish had become her bittersweet reality, and it made so little sense sometimes.

"A fawnling of so few words!" Andruil stood up to her full height, towering at least one head over Rook. "Yet I am sure you have a sharp tongue about you."

"I do not mean to offend you, my lady..."

"Is that so? I am certain you have naught but offense to offer me right now," she laughed heartily and grabbed Rook by the cape, dragging her along. "You are far better entertainment than my Chosen. Ilan shall take care of them," she added, and she only had to offer the creature a short look for it to bow its head low, in the closest thing to a curtsy that a gigantic moose could perform, before taking off into the woods.

She could barely keep up with Andruil's long strides, and when she finally reached the rose arch and was met by an anxious Luong, she all but threw herself in his arms.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his usual controlled demeanor replaced by very obvious worry. It comforted her, knowing someone did care for her.

"Ah, another lost fawnling. Are you also seeking trouble?" Andruil interrupted them, just when Rook opened her mouth to explain it all. "What is it with Father's chosen's this festival?" she laughed and dragged Rook after her again. Luong followed closely, keeping his mouth shut, but his eyes on her.

She must have looked a fright, and the way the crowds opened to let her and the Huntress pass, gasps and murmurs all around, she knew that all her efforts to pass unseen had been for nothing.

The Evanuris table was empty, and all the Chosen's tables and the gazebos as well. She was taken around the Vhenadahl, down the path that hugged it to the right, until she reached the back of the tree; the part she had not seen before and where the dragons had been taken by their handlers.

She could barely see what was around her as she was dragged so fast, and a cacophony of sounds and colors surrounded her. All she knew was that she had passed crowd after crowd, until Andruil pulled her up some smooth wooden steps, to a platform decorated with golden swirls. She was shoved onto the pretty, gilded wooden floor and forced to kneel by Andruil's hands on her shoulders.

"Father, I brought your prey," the Huntress announced in a melodic, yet mocking tone.

*Ilan - “placed apart from the group” – as a scout, or in a metaphorical sense [il + an]; related and possibly an honor-name tied to Andruil

Chapter Text

When she was thrown in front of the Evanuris, as if she were Andruil's trophy, she couldn't look up at them. It had happened at the Naming ceremony, and it was happening again. It was fortunate that they loved decorating everything, because there was always some pretty detail, swirl, or trinket to focus on in such moments.

And as her eyes slid over a gold swirl that seemed to have grown within the fiber of the wood, she could feel them again. She could feel him... 

She knew Andruil had thrown her at his feet. She could recognize his magic, just as she did Solas's and especially Mythal's. Each felt and tasted differently, and when she was close to them, her magic resonated back, a fine tune, almost like music that ran through her body and mind. Solas was dark, low, and bold. Mythal was cold and frighteningly strong while he...

"Such a broken one... Tell me, da'len, what foul beasts kept you at bay from my blessing?" 

How was the magic imbuing him, she wondered? She couldn't find words to describe it, though it had always resonated with her in ways she couldn't understand, and refused to even try. Now, though, her mind was blank, chaotic. All she had was pain and disappointment. She had been betrayed and used. She could find excuses for Solas, but the truth was stark and painful. Yet, she knew sabotaging him was unwise, and so was escalating the eternal conflict between him and Elgar'nan. 

Could she lie to Elgar'nan, she wondered? Yes, as long as she didn't look him in the eye. She could not explain why, but she sensed that looking at him might make her lies fail. 

"Beasts most foul, your grace. I could never name them..." her voice came out broken and ragged, for she hadn't used actual words since Solas left her alone in the forest. Afterwards, it had all been screaming as Ilan trampled her.

"Stand," he commanded, and Andruil's hands slipped away from her shoulders.

She slowly rose, new pain radiating through her legs and back. The creature had battered her more than she realized, and now, just as then, she felt numb. The presence of so many people felt suffocating, stifling, and she could only focus on Elgar'nan's decorations as she had done before. The Moon had been her guide and protector for so long, in all the lives she had lived. Nothing felt more natural than to rest her eyes on its symbol once more, even if it stood on the one person who had ruined her previous life. 

"Hm, I sense far more than mere beasts left their mark upon you." Amusement was in his voice, and he took one step closer to her, invading her space, making her step back in response. He chuckled before walking around her, evaluating the damage to his cattle, she supposed.

"There was at least one beast," she said with what she thought was confidence. He had stepped behind her, and the other Evanuris had a full view of her, which made her slightly sick to her stomach. She glanced up once to see all their eyes on her, then dropped her gaze to the floor once more. She needed Elgar'nan's stupid little moon decorations, she thought wildly. Those would have grounded her... 

She needed to wear a moon pendant or ring. That would have been far less embarrassing than being comforted by things that belonged to him.

There were three of them in her time, though, she remembered. He had three decorations. The biggest, gaudiest one was missing in this time, which she supposed he would award himself at some point in the future. 

She felt her cape being lifted and inspected, then a fleeting touch on her hair that made her flinch. "Feather moss..." he said, and in mere moments was in front of her again, holding some of the tiny little flowers she had just had her face shoved in by Solas. They looked even smaller in his hands, "Seems you delighted in some wanton revelry in the forest with this strange beast of yours. Was that the reason for your delay?"

Her face was burning, and her peripheral vision blurred. Still, she lifted her eyes to him, jaw clenched, defiantly looking into his eyes, "With respect, your grace, I did not know wanton revelry was forbidden, seeing as everyone was engaging in it around me."

Whispers ran through the crowd, and one of the Evanuris definitely laughed.

Elgar'nan inclined his head, "You delay the festivities, are brought before me besmirched and befowled, and look me in the eye still. No sense of self-preservation within you, I see."

Magic, not unlike the one that had almost torn her to pieces before Mythal had saved her, enveloped her, flesh tingling with it, every cell on fire. That spell of his that seemed to tear matter apart in small pieces exuded from him. That spell that she didn't understand, but would have loved to wield... 

"At the naming ceremony, I was encouraged not to be afraid. I am following your orders, All Father..." she said, her spine straightening despite the searing pain running through her. 

There was no easy way to ignore the possibility of being disintegrated on the spot by him, and she knew he could do it, but the fear and pain were enclosed somehow. Separated by something within her that couldn't be described, a force, a wall, and she was behind it, capable of looking marginally unaffected. It wasn't her, though. This force did not flow from herself...

Let go... Trust me... Unspoken and unthought words flowed through her mind. Sea waves, cooling the fear and latent rage that clashed with his magic. Ah, so now you are talking to me, thought Rook. The knowledge that it was not easy for Mythal to intervene, or even look through her eyes, came to her. Mythal's fragment was weak here, and what force she could muster, she used it only when needed.

"I see the attention you receive is not sufficient," he laughed, and it seemed odd coming from him. "You desire more of it, da'len?" 

The silence was broken by a keening, rumbling cry that came from behind, and she flinched, turning towards the sound, though she knew it was his dragon. She only had to look over her shoulder to see a gigantic golden thing in the corner of her eye. Her heart fluttered, and this time she couldn't hide the gasp that crawled out of her throat.

"Now, now, it is but Lusacan. Your eyes shall be blessed by his magnificence soon enough. Have patience," Elgar'nan said, and when she turned back to him, he looked very pleased with himself.

He seemed very entertained by her fear and even the chaos she had created. She expected more anger from him, but then again, even in her time, he had a strange, cruelly calm way of going about things, until the very end when he did lose all control.

She swallowed the fear and returned an indulgent smile. Maybe escalating whatever was happening would be fruitful, or if not, would amuse him well enough.

"I would be ever so pleased to look upon the glorious Night Dragon! Nothing would make me happier, on this most blessed of eves!" 

He laughed again, "Is your pride so heedless that you believe you are here for your own enjoyment?"

"No, but I am picking all the scraps I can get, your grace," she bowed her head in respect that she hoped would look genuine enough.

"Father, will you let this bedraggled little wretch disrespect you so?" Andruil said from over her shoulder. 

"You let your bedraggled beast roam the Whispering Woods, amongst the rest of the Chosens, and it almost killed one of mine. She reeks of moose!" he waved a hand in disgust towards Rook. "Thus, once more, the delay is your doing, Andruil."

Andruil wrapped her fingers around the back of Rook's neck and pulled her closer, burying her nose in her neck and taking a deep, lungful of air. She sniffed her. Rook fought her off, goosebumps of disgust running down her spine.

"She reeks of man as well," the Huntress said, before taking another whiff, "And I know exactly who it was that enjoyed you, fawnling," she said softly in her ear. 

"I am well aware who it was as well, Andruil. Dare I say, far better than you," Elgar'nan said and waved his hand softly, which made Andruil gasp and release her.

"You burned me!" Andruil hissed in pain.

"Yes, indeed I have," declared Elagr'nan. "Quite an astute observation."

"Shall you burn Solas as well, for enjoying your quarry?"

"Why not go find him and bring him to me, seeing as you are so eager to get back into my good graces?" Elgar'nan looked around at the other Evanuris with mock surprise, "He seems to have lost his way..."

"As is his way," a voice spoke, smooth as velvet, yet commanding attention. "Mayhaps my pets could track him," Dirthamen all but glided by Elgar'nan's side, his long, slick hair catching the hanging light above them. As if summoned, two ravens, one as dark as his hair, and the other as white as bone, swooped and sat on his shoulders, the white one on the left, the black one on the right. Dirthamen inclined his head slowly towards the black one as if listening to some unspoken riddles.

"Let our pets join forces, brother," gleefully chimed in Andruil, stepping around Rook to join Dirthamen's side. "After all, mine would surely reach the target without a moment's faltering."

"It is wiser we continue with the festivities," a very familiar voice intervened. Dirthamen and Andruil both looked at Mythal, who had risen from her throne, yet did not approach them. "The people are waiting, and the hour is late. Your fires shall be seen all across the empire in this darkness, Elgar'nan."

"Indeed, the awaited gloaming has descended, and it shall be Lusacan's choice as to my quarry's fate!" his voice was amplified, coursing through her chest almost painfully. "In light of what has transpired and her zeal, I shall offer the honours of Vallaslin to Lady Vara first," he said, and the dragon roared from behind her.

Her cheeks burned, and not because of the prospect of the vallaslin, but rather Lusacan. What choice was that beast about to make? She remembered how Elgar'nan wanted to offer elves to Lusacan for food. Was there a more terrible way to die than in the maw of that creature?

Her hands trembled, and she let them fall around her as Dirthamen and Andruil left and sat beside Mythal. She now saw the thrones aligned in front of her, felt the mass of people quivering with anticipation behind her, and when Desmal joined Elgar'nan's side, holding a golden bowl and a small, thin dagger, she felt like she was about to be sick. She let out a shaky breath as Elgar'nan took the dagger from Desmal and gave her the most innocuous, almost benign of smiles. 

Without further instructions, Desmal knelt in front of Elgar'nan, holding the bowl up above his head like an offering. She watched as Elgar'nan slashed his left palm in one smooth motion, letting his blood flow into the bowl. No grimace of pain on his face, he squeezed his fist hard, drops of dark red dripping into the dish. When the flow stopped, Desmal produced a white fabric for Elgar'nan, and he wiped the blood off, though his hand remained stained. 

Another elf, dressed in deep, dark robes - a servant - ran in and took the bloody rag away, then returned with a flask filled with dark liquid.

"May this night be the beginning of a new life for you, Lady Vara'diel," he said, gesturing towards Desmal, who stood, took the flask from the servant's hand, uncorked it, and spilled all its contents into the golden bowl, over the blood. Desmal swirled the bowl ceremoniously left and right, no words spoken. The silence was deafening, and she could hear her heartbeats in her ears, drumming away, keeping her conscience afloat. 

During all of this, Elgar'nan had his eyes on her, and she held his gaze, everything around her blurring into nothing. She was fear, she was regret, she was also resolve, and everything else disappeared, and nothing mattered at that moment. He extended his hand for Desmal to follow and approached her, slowly, indulging in her fear. He stopped a mere breath away from her, golden eyes running across her face, as if he were an artist in front of a fresh canvas. 

An eternity ago, when she aimed his blighted dagger at her heart, it all felt the same - strangely comforting. Fear blended with surrender once more, and it resulted in the closest thing to courage. 

When his stare lingered on her throat, a cold smile appeared on his face. "Such disgrace. Tainted, spoiled, and marked... No matter. Light eternal cleanses it all," he whispered, and, holding the dagger in his left hand, he ran his right up her throat. She let him, didn't pull away, while he barely touched her, yet warmth ran on the trail of his fingers. She knew what it was, and she knew what he was doing. Solas had bitten and sucked at her throat enough for it to show on her skin. She should have been ashamed and burn with embarrassment as he healed the marks on her neck, yet she looked up at him blankly. 

Nothing mattered.

"Much better..." he murmured and then dipped the sharp tip of the dagger into the bowl held up by Desmal. The dagger was pretty and ornate, twisting silver and gold vines wrapped around it, and colorful gems encrusted in its hilt. A ceremonial dagger, most likely, and when he nodded at her to stay still and touched the tip to her right cheek, she closed her eyes. "No! You shall look at me as you have done until now," the scent of spiced wine was on his breath, and when warmth engulfed her as the blade sank into flesh, her eyes opened on their own, wide and terrified.

Her cheek was burning, and she could feel the blood, his blood, entering her veins from the tip of the blade, swirling and flowing all the way down to her jaw. She hissed, swaying on her feet, and he tskd at her, reminding her that she might hurt herself on the blade if she was not standing still, something which required all the self-control she didn't really have to accomplish.

Desmal stepped closer as Elgar'nan dipped the dagger into the blood a second time.

When he returned it to her skin, light bloomed under her right eye, and both he and Desmal followed it attentively with their gaze. "We must see the path it takes," Elgar'nan said softly, before dragging the knife in intricate whorls over her cheekbone, into the hollow of her cheek, and down to her jaw, following the trail his blood had taken. When he reached her neck, she cried in pain, and her entire body recoiled away from him.

His free hand wrapped around her arm, holding her still, "You could not have chosen a more unfortunate time to move, when my blade lies upon your throat," he said coldly and continued to carve his mark into her skin.

The tears that had gathered in her eyes blurred her vision, and the light catching on Elgar'nan's golden crown all but blinded her, yet she forced her eyes open, as he commanded. When the neck part was done, he dipped the dagger a third time into the blood and ran it up to her temple, finishing his decor with a flourish that seemed to make him very proud. 

"Beautiful, your grace," whispered Desmal in awe.

Rook's heart was beating out of her chest and half of her face was on fire, yet when her eyes returned to Elgar'nan, she was filled with calm and lulled into a sense of...nothing. It was hard to describe or even oppose it, but his presence obliterated all her cares and their associated thoughts as well. It was similar to the spell he had put on her during the naming ceremony, though he didn't need to place a hand on her head to scatter thoughts and rationality away. She was aware that it was the vallaslin, and yet reveled in the sensation, sank into it as if in a warm bath.

"Yes, truly," murmured Elgar'nan, admiring his work. "A splendid one indeed. You shall make your family proud, no matter the outcome of this eve." And then he did something that made her breath stutter. He caressed her marked cheek, running his fingers softly along the whorls, "I see all your brave words have left you. Such is the comfort of Vallaslin..."

Embrace the light, release your fears, for you are now under my protection and rule. I see you, yet not wholly. When all this is done, you shall tell me all about yourself...lost one.

For a moment, she was certain he was speaking to her, but the sound was lightly warped, and she saw that his lips were not moving. No, he was speaking in her mind, and she was hearing him as if he had used his voice. Where Mythal had been a mere impression, thoughts that could have been hers, yet weren't, Elgar'nan's voice was clear, resounding in her mind as if he had spoken it aloud. Her mind was drowning into his, her thoughts dissolving, and yet a flickering flame that was still her remained, and somehow she knew he allowed it to exist. How could she tell him all about herself if that flame was completely extinguished? He kept her whole with purpose, or so she thought and hoped.

She gathered all the broken pieces of the courage she came here with and allowed her thoughts to speak loudly in her mind. 

How could I have the strength to hide myself from the sun's gaze? There is nothing to hide in this mind of mine, your grace. 

His smile told more than any words, spoken or not, could have. He didn't believe her. He pulled his hand away and stood straight, a curt nod towards Desmal.

"Lady Vara'diel, blood-bond to Elgar'nan, the Sun Tamer! May your path be ever true and your devotion unbroken," said Desmal with a small bow of his head towards her. She answered with a lower bow that she knew was required of her, but which brought a derisive smile to Desmal's face. "My lady must be taught court etiquette," he glanced at his master, glee in his pale eyes, "provided Lusacan prefers another."

Confirmation of what she had feared most, and yet there was no fear. Not anymore.

Elgar'nan smiled at her lightly, an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, "Lead her to her seat, Desmal. And summon the others." 

"Surely, your grace!" Desmal bowed and caught Rook by the arm with a bony hand, directing her to the far side of the podium. She winced as pain shot through her bones, where the moose had probably broken something. Or maybe it had been Solas? Did it even matter?

Most of the other Chosen who had attended the ceremony earlier were there, seated on long benches, aligned one in front of the other. Not all of them were present, though. Andruil's had been chased by Ilan, and she could only hope they were still alive. 

She was glad to see Luong and Sulime, but before she could greet both of them, Desmal plucked Luong off the bench and led him to Elgar'nan. She sat on the bench next to Sulime, who was staring at her as if she had descended from the very skies.

"Are you..." Sulime whispered. "How do you feel?"

Rook swallowed, "Strange, but good..."

"I heard the vallaslin imparts some of the god's power. Does it feel like that?" Sulime's eyes were wide and excited.

Rook glanced at Luong, who was standing straight and proud in front of Elgar'nan, as he went through the same process that she did. It was imperceptible, but she could see a slight tremor in Luong's body. She returned her attention to Sulime, "I am not sure. He was in my head, though. His voice was in my head, yet he was not speaking."

"Oh, yes! That is part of the blessing, but I heard so much more! I hope he offers me some of his strength. Even a sliver would be enough."

Rook was almost caught up in Sulime's wistfulness and was about to say that she wished for so many things herself, but a soft dragon growl from her left reminded her of what mattered.

"Sulime..." she whispered hesitantly, "Do you know what will happen to us after we receive vallaslin?" 

The light left Sulime's eyes at Rook's question, "The Night Dragon shall decide our fate. We must not be afraid..." she said and looked away from Rook, her eyes on Luong and Elgar'nan.

"Yet you are afraid," said Rook, trying to pull Sulime from the lethargy that she seemed to welcome. "Admit it."

"If I am chosen, it will be a blessing."

"Do you truly believe that?"

Sulime was crushing the fabric of her gown between calloused fingers. "Tell me, Vara, do you fear anything now that you have been blessed with vallaslin?"

The question took her by surprise. The truth was that she felt no more fear. The desire to survive was there; she did not want to be chosen by the dragon, and yet the fear of what might happen to her, or of the possibility that it could be painful, was missing. Emptiness and void were in its place.

"I do not want to die," said Rook,"And I don't want you to die either..."

Sulime's blue eyes were brimming with unshed tears, but they ran in reverence along her vallaslin. All of a sudden, Sulime took her hand between her larger ones and squeezed it, as if she were the one lost and irrational. 

"There is nothing I desire more than to be in the service of the All Father, Vara! Nothing! I had dreamed of being part of the Golden Army, but when they came to our door offering me the chance to be part of the Hunt of the Chosens, I took it without any second thoughts. If that means the dragon shall prefer me..." her eyes fell away from Rook's, and onto her hands. 

"Lady Sulime," Desmal's voice disrupted the moment, and Rook looked up to see him standing over them, with Luong in tow.

Sulime stood up faster than she should have, and in just a few wide steps, she was in front of Elgar'nan. Luong took her place next to Rook, his forehead and temples decorated with the crawling vines of the brier. It looked beautiful on him, even though the skin was angry-red and slightly swollen. She imagined that's how hers looked as well.

"Ah, at last," murmured Luong, a serene expression on his face.

"It is beautiful, and I am glad you are content," said Rook.

Luong gave her a lazy smile, "As is yours. A good choice to have it painted on the side where your golden eye is. Of course, the All Father is ever inspired."

Rook gave a nod, "Indeed, he is. Ah, and thank you for earlier. Trying to find me, I mean." She gave him a complicit smile, "In retrospect, I should have stayed with you."

Luong's eyes narrowed in confusion, "Hm, you did leave our table without notice. I was ever so lonesome. Both you and Sulime preferring the company of others, while I had to make due with one of Falon'din's darlings. Or shall I say darklings?" A pleased smile appeared on his face, "Not that I am complaining, of course. The boy was ever so delightful."

"Table?" Rook asked. "Luong, I did not exactly leave our table." She gave him an incredulous laugh, "Was I such a bore that you forgot me? You certainly didn't look bored in the moment..."

"Ah, did we perchance engage in more?" Luong waved dismissively, "Dearest Vara, forgive me, it must have been the wine. I easily fall prey to its...guile."

"Now it really is my turn to feel insulted," Rook laughed, and Luong looked contemplative at her. 

"This place," he started. "The Golden City," he sighed deeply. "It is renowned for its incomprehensible force, its magic. We are but dust in the wind in the face of its glory. We must not be surprised if our actions may get, shall we say, muddled, maybe even irrational."

"You are not wrong, Luong..." Her voice shook, but she steadied it. "I have had some experiences..."

"That is irrelevant now, dearest. Tell me, did you enjoy the evening?"

The fact that he was so unaffected by the freshly carved vallaslin on his forehead, nor the prospect of being Lusacan's dinner, was unnerving, but in truth, she was just as numb, and as she saw Elgar'nan finish Sulime's vallaslin, it all fell into place. 

Whatever it takes. Her thoughts or not, but they passed through her mind all the same, and she hung on to them. He did not extinguish her completely, whether intentionally or not; she could still think for herself.

"I have!" she nodded and sat straighter, looking away from Luong and at Elgar'nan. "And for such a wonderful celebration that has been gifted to us, I shall do my best to ensure I do my duty." 

"Do you know your duty, Vara?" Luong whispered just as Sulime bowed low to Elgar'nan.

"Do you, Luong?"

"Always..." he answered darkly and looked at Sulime as well.

Elgar'nan said a few words that she could not fully register, and the attendees, nobles from various parts of the empire, cheered. Her eyes were on the dragons, which she could now see well. They were behind the crowd, slithering masses, glinting in the night like polished metal. Lusacan, though, watched it all as if he were one of the attendees, his eyes on his master the entire time. She noticed the connection they had, for he would roar or growl according to Elgar'nan's words, and especially his emotions. It was an undeniably marvelous thing to behold, even knowing what the connection meant and what had been done to the dragon to be how he now was. 

Her eyes roamed the place, beyond Lusacan and the crowd, and she saw what looked like a mound of branches, tall enough to rise over the gathered crowd. She wondered how she had not seen it before, but her mind had been far too focused on maintaining a sense of normalcy. A glimmering white path snaked towards it, and it was surrounded by flickering torches, adorned with flowers. 

"Luong?"

"Yes, Vara," answered Luong in a low voice.

"What does Lusacan's choice entail exactly?"

Luong laughed, short and full of unspoken meanings, "Why, fire, of course, dear Vara! You did not know?"

She wanted to fear, but couldn't, and it only made her angrier. "What?" she asked him, struggling hard to keep her voice low.

"Lusacan, the Night Dragon, shall choose one of us for the burning, of course!" Luong subtly pointed to the mound she had seen earlier, "and that is the pyre! What did you think would happen?"

"I," she swallowed, goosebumps running up her arms. "I thought we'd be fed to him..." 

Luong laughed again, this time louder, unable to fully control himself, "I apologize for my outburst. Eating us? That would be most uncouth and boorish of the All Father! He would never stoop so low! Ha, imagine that!" he giggled again. "No, my dear Vara! We shall not be swallowed by the dragon! Where have you been living all this time? I understand you are from a noble-blooded house? The Solstice celebration is renowned all across the empire..."

"Luong, please, I understood your meaning the first time. No need to say it over and over, in different ways," she grumbled and wondered if burning alive was more refined than being eaten alive. It surely was a preferable way to die.

He still laughed and apologized a few times more, as her eyes were fixed upon the pyre.

Whatever it takes. 

Time crawled at a snail's pace, as the rest of the Evanuris, except Andruil and Ghilan'nain, who were missing, marked their Chosens the same way, one after the other. Sometime during the long wait, when her mind had become fuzzy and her body tired, she could feel someone's stare upon her. When she turned towards the pull, her eyes made contact with Lady Sylaise's. Her breathtaking beauty struck Rook as before. Golden hair wrapped in coils on top of her head and adorned with a flowery headdress that had gold sun rays flaring from within. Her gown was gold and green, shimmering and as fine as a gentle breeze, a long cape or train that looked like a field of flowers falling around her throne. 

Rook held her gaze and bowed her head in respect. Sylaise's smile was soft, and so was her slight nod. An unspoken, yet very much undefined understanding passed between them. It comforted Rook, and that was all she needed to add to the numbness that she fostered and encouraged. 

The surrounding benches were getting emptier and emptier, and they were not being filled back. The other Chosens did not join them after getting their vallaslin, but rather were directed off the platform and into the darkness below. Just as before, her, Sulime, and Dhen'luong had special treatment, and they sat on their own, to the right of the Evanuris thrones, waiting for their fate to be decided. Elgar'nan was in the middle, next to Mythal, both impassive and emotionless, gold and silver, fire and water, on their thrones, watching it all unfold before them.

Solas was nowhere in sight, and she couldn't help her thoughts wandering back to him, which only made her feel even more resentful. She wished her mind hadn't run to him so often. If only Elgar'nan had somehow taken away her yearning for Solas, along with fear. Maybe one day her hubris would be big enough that she could ask him to do it directly. That is what she needed. Hubris, courage, relentlessness, and pure audacity. In her previous life, she had come into their world a child, broken, scared, and lost, but children grow, and so did she. 

Somehow, her life before meeting the Veil Jumpers and especially Varric had become blurry and faded, as if it had never really happened. She often wondered if it wasn't all a dream, and maybe she had just grown up in a Dalish family like everyone else, and it was Solas who erased it all, while the strange memories of a different life in a completely different realm were just her fantasies and delirium. But no, it was real. She knew it and believed it deeply when images of a great oak and her father's face appeared in her dreams. Sylaise was her key. She watched over dreams, family, and the hearth. It was no mere coincidence that she should have been hers and no mere coincidence that Sylaise had looked upon her the way she did. Maybe if she survived this night, Sylaise might reveal her past.

The last of the Chosen, belonging to June, was marked and, just as it had happened before, he was taken off the platform, and now, it was only the three of them and the Evanuris.

Elgar'nan stood, as if eager not to waste more time, and walked away from his throne, golden robes trailing behind him. When he turned to them, his dragon rumbled. The sound seemed strangely joyous, a mirror to his master's expression. Everyone stood, Evanuris and courtier alike, the very air vibrating with that particular energy that she knew far too well. Elgar'nan's magic. Not different from that spell she craved to wield so much, yet instead of threatening to obliterate matter away, it energized, uplifted, and imbued her with overwhelming euphoria. 

Join me, my winged children, for my blood calls to me from your veins. Stand by my side, thus your fate may be sealed and the ritual may be done.

She stepped towards him first, head held high, eyes undeterred from their mark, and he acknowledged her with a nod. His right arm opened to her, the winged cloak, not unlike the one she was wearing, glimmering with painted feathers and sweeping down to the ground. The closer she walked to him, the more overpowering the magic was, and it felt as if she could bask in it, become stronger herself. As Sulime had said, through Vallaslin, he imparted some of his powers to his subjects, and it was hard to keep a clear mind, or not to revel in it, when it made her feel invincible.

"Lady Vara'diel, your eyes must be downcast in front of the God Emperor," admonished Desmal, but she ignored him, waiting for a command from Elgar'nan, which swiftly came as she had expected.

"Let her, Desmal. Her defiance is amusing." 

Desmal bowed with an "of course, your grace" and stood back straight, hawk eyes on her.

Sulime and Luong followed her, and all three stood in front of Elgar'nan, she to his left, Sulime in the middle, and Luong to his right. For the first time, she had a good view of the crowd and the pyre. So many faces looked up at them, some with Vallaslin, others bare, and the white pebbled trail to the pyre started just in front of her, at the foot of the winding stairs that descended from the platform.

"Thus, we reached the completion of this Midsummer Night's Eve!" said Elgar'nan from behind her, and the crowd did not cheer this time. They watched, transfixed, a blur of faces and eyes that she was blind to. "My dragon shall choose this Solstice's ever-burning. The sacrifice of one of my thralls, all three of them of the purest blood, shall bless the year. As before, it pains me to offer one of mine to the pyre; alas, what is a good ruler if he does not make the necessary sacrifices first?" 

A wave of numb panic washed over her, and she felt almost nauseous, but his hand descended on her left shoulder, heavy and warm, the sensations melting away. She glanced to her right, to see he held Luong the same way, while Sulime, even if not touched, had a serene, teary-eyed smile on her face.

Deep silence descended, but she could feel his thoughts, even if he did not allow them to be fully read. The dragons stirred behind the pyre, and Lusacan moved closer, the crowd parting before him like wheat before wildfire. He was incredibly delicate in his movements, despite his great size, stepping around people carefully and avoiding the pyre, until he stood before them.

The creature was beyond impressive, and her breath stopped in awe at the sight of it. He should have been made of flesh, but looked pure gold and magic, unreal, unfathomable. The scales were both gold and brass, as if the metals melted into one another, creating iridescent tendrils where they met and overlapped in unbroken symmetry. His horns were bone-colored and polished, decorated with a crawling golden brier. The worst of it, though, was his eyes, so full of intelligence and understanding that looking into them was unnerving and endearing at the same time. 

Your wish has been fulfilled. You are looking upon the Night Dragon. I see he has surpassed your expectations.

She flinched, but kept her eyes on Lusacan, who had started to move his great head from her to Sulime and then Luong, hot puffs of air released onto her face as he sniffed each.

I expected nothing less than to have my expectations surpassed, your grace.

He did not answer in her mind, but he did chuckle from behind her, and as the dragon's head stopped over Sulime, he squeezed Rook's shoulder before releasing it.

"The fire made flesh has made a choice," Elgar'nan said, and Rook turned to Sulime, who was looking down at the floor. 

A soft wind blew around them, her skirts rustling around her legs. It brought the scents of the woods she had run through, and something deeper and darker, carried from places she could now only see in dreams. The sensations went away as Desmal pulled both her and Luong away from Sulime, instructing them to stand a few steps behind. 

"Lady Sulime, your sacrifice this eve shall be remembered for ages to come! Such a brave, dauntless spirit to give herself for the growth of the Imperium is a price I shall cherish evermore! Your father shall want for nothing and will receive his rightful place at my court," Elgar'nan said, bowing over Sulime's shoulder in such a tender, protective way that Rook could not take her eyes off of them. She looked so uncharacteristically small next to him and burdened by her fate, yet she soon straightened her back and stared ahead at the pyre. Lusacan lowered his horned head at her as if in reverence, and she stepped forward to him. 

Do what you know must be done. Do your duty. Thoughts tumbled through Rook's mind. More than thoughts, certainty, and trust unshaken. Time slowed, stuttered, and shifted, as if the threads of fate were being unraveled and all she had to do was pluck some of them so they'd be woven anew, in a different pattern than before. She held those threads; she was sat in front of that loom, and there was no time to squander. She could not look back.

"Sulime!" she called out, her voice confident and sharp. All eyes turned on her, but she saw none of them, except for Sulime and Lusacan, for his great golden eyes were on her as well. "Wait," and Sulime did so, her pale eyes wide as unspoken words passed between her and Rook. Suddenly, Rook was certain that Sulime knew what she wanted to do and was about to fight her, but she would not give her the chance. "I will take your place." 

The silence seemed even deeper now that it was pierced by low murmurs from the crowd below, but Rook saw nothing and cared for nothing as she stepped towards Sulime and Elgar'nan. The former observed the interaction, arms folded at his back. Yet some more entertainment for the god emperor, Rook thought.

"No," whispered Sulime. "Vara, don't."

"Yes," Rook said. "I will walk on that pyre, not you. Provided, his grace blesses my supplication," she added, glancing up at Elgar'nan. She did not bow her head; she forgot what little court etiquette she had tried to follow before. He did not admonish her, merely observed her, piercing golden eyes reading her, while she could not read him at all this time.

"It has never been done," he said. Desmal wanted to speak, and before he could utter any words, Elgar'nan silenced him. "Lusacan's choice was clear and must not be questioned by my thralls."

You mean to sacrifice yourself and take your secrets to the fire. I shall know it all, and you shall tell me everything.

His words were harsh, cutting through her mind sharply and painfully, but she did not back away; rather stepped closer and did the unthinkable, kneeling before him, eyes on the floor, knowing he could so easily read her.

I mean no harm, and I am hiding no nefarious secrets. That I swear to you, your divine grace. And it was not a lie, for her secrets were not nefarious.

"I beg you, your grace. Let me burn in her place," she spoke loudly and clearly for all to hear. "Lady Sulime wants to be in your service more than anyone here. She wished to be part of the Golden Army. Her desire to serve you is honest and true, and she deserves that honor more than anyone. Wouldn't my sacrifice, made from love for someone I hold dear, be of greater value? Wouldn't my noble blood count more?"

Everyone here knows I wear your Vallaslin unfairly, and I was supposed to be another's. My sacrifice would bring back the lost balance... and it would take a burden off of you as well, seeing as you believe me to be a threat. 

"Look at me," he said, and she did, knowing that what he believed about her was not true. There were no lies. She meant no harm. She wanted to change it all for the better; she wanted it all to thrive and grow as it should have. 

The Evanuris stirred, many requests upon their lips, some asking for justice, a few for mercy, but yet again, as he did with Desmal, he shut them all down. Mythal was the only one who did not say anything, merely observed it all, which was the most unnerving thing of all, yet she could not fully focus on the implications.

A frown knitted itself upon his brow, and she felt him entering her thoughts, seeking intentions, seeking her darkness, and she could not fight it, the fear that he might see where she was from, all but lost. 

The day of the hunt, a discordance in the refrain was felt. I most of all sensed it. Who sent you here? 

Tears ran down her cheeks as her flesh tingled with his burning spell again, but she let the thoughts flow out all the same, hating herself for it, yet also feeling a release like no other. I was not sent here; I was chased into the briers by Solas, your grace. I was called by Lady Sylaise's pines. Let this mistake be corrected, for my honor and your peace. The Vallaslin cannot be undone, as your blood already flows through my veins.

At the mention of Solas's name, his face darkened, yet a small smile appeared as well, and he shook his head as if he had expected such words.

"She speaks the truth," he said, yet somehow, deep inside, she knew that he still had doubts. "Lady Sulime, step away and let Lady Vara take your place."

Sulime was shaking, with rage or fear, Rook could not tell, but as she walked around her, all she heard was a choked "Sister, what have you done?"

Rook stood and caught Sulime by the elbow, "Take this. It is far too precious to be burned. Keep it for me..." and she untied the winged cape from her neck, pulling it off with shaky hands and shoving it in Sulime's arms. The other woman looked at her speechless, but clutched the cape to her chest as if it were a lifeline.

The cool wind of the night nipped at her naked arms, raising goosebumps all over her skin as she walked to the spot that Sulime had occupied, turning towards the pyre and the dragon waiting by its side.

"Your family shall be duly rewarded, Lady Vara," Elgar'nan said, "yet your sacrifice shall be forgotten. Are you certain of your choice?"

"I am," she answered, and he rested his hand upon her shoulder, unnaturally hot, just as Solas had been. 

"And so it is," he said, "I thank you for your devotion." She felt the familiar lull of his magic sweeping through her, though she did not need it this time, for her path was clear as she descended the few steps that led to the ground.

Her feet walked upon the shimmering pebbles on their own, and all she could see was the pyre and the torches that surrounded it. The drums started, a crescendo of rhythmic, ritualistic, hypnotizing beats, filling the night air. People were crowding left and right to stare at her, and she walked between them without sparing them a glance. Had she looked at them, her courage might have failed. A risk she did not dare take.

When she reached the side of the pyre, Lusacan lifted his head over the tangled mass of branches, and two priestesses dressed and masked just as the one who had attended her, Sulime and Luong at the temple, came by her side to anoint and fumigate her with incense. She let them do what they wanted, and after their task was done, they took her hands and led her further into the circle of torches. Up close, she could tell the pyre was meant to burn long and hot. It was made of bone-dry twigs, straw, and the top was lost in the darkness of the night. A thin rope ladder hung on its side, and she was led to it by the two women in their golden masks. 

One hand clutched the ropes, and the other held up her skirts, as she lifted herself to the top of the pyre, one step at a time, breathe in, breathe out, a myriad of eyes upon her, some burning hotter than others. Sweat ran down her back and temples, but she pushed until she reached the peak. Moss was laid out on top, with fragrant herbs and flowers scattered about. A soft bed of the rarest of flowers, smelling like a dream, for the burnt offering, and she knelt on it, one hand clutching a twig for balance, turning to look at everyone. 

She could see it all from up there: the stars, the shimmering curtains of the Fade, the last line of red at the horizon, the Vhenadhal, the intricate platforms sweeping through its branches, the many faces looking at her in awe, and even the Evanuris, who, despite it all, were in awe as well. It was exhilarating. The drumming was now joined by voices, chanting, as rhythmic and dizzying as the music, over and over, higher and louder.

Time is not lost to turn back. She heard Elgar'nan in her mind, and a strange feeling passed over her: confusion, intrigue. Why did he insist? 

I cannot turn back, was all she could think, and Lusacan softly growled from behind her, calling to her. She answered by turning to face the dragon, and just then, in the darkness behind the pyre, she saw movement. A shadow in the shadows, jewelry twinkling between the trees, pale face turned to her. She knew who it was even without seeing the color of his hair, or his roguish smile and violet eyes. 

She wished she could speak to him as she had to Elgar'nan, in her mind, to scream and curse at him. But it was not necessary. What was done was done, and if things went well, Solas would learn true regret, or she would learn to forgive and forget him. She could do none of those things now. Mythal had told her to be gentle with him, but gentleness was the last thing on her mind when her thoughts wandered to him.

She looked away from the treacherous shadow and back at the dragon, nodding at him. Do it. Get it over with. And the dragon understood. Somehow, he heard her.

Lusacan sucked air in through his great maw, so much of it that strands of her hair flew towards him. His mouth opened, and deep within his throat, warm light appeared, alighting his teeth and tongue, growing ever brighter, a deep, rumbling, yet shrill sound accompanying it. When rolling, bright red clouds tumbled over his tongue, she closed her eyes, letting the fire engulf her, arms outstretched to welcome it all. 

Do not fear, the thoughts flowed over her mind like a balm, as the fires took her whole. You are doing well, you are doing better than expected. Trust me. And she trusted, even if she sometimes wondered if it was still Mythal's fragment speaking to her. It did not matter.

First, there was a hot summer breeze, then it turned to ice, so hot that it felt cold. Her lungs were on fire, as were her heart and mind, and she breathed it all in, hungrily. The flame was so concentrated that it pushed her off balance, almost sending her tumbling into the now flaming grasses, but she stayed kneeling, forcing her body against it. Screams and drumming and great crackling filled her mind. Her clothing was vaporized, jewelry glowing with heat upon her skin, and the vallaslin started stinging, then burning. She could feel every single line and whorl and barb Elgar'nan had cut into her face, searing her to the bone, his blood running deeper into her flesh, chased by the flame. The pain rose to a fever pitch, so agonizing that she couldn't control the scream forcing itself out of her throat, and she finally fell on her hands and knees, hands clutching the incandescent twigs, as she wanted to claw the right side of her face off. 

The flames were like water, churning over twigs and lapping at her hands. A deafening crack sounded beneath her, and a flame puffed at her face, taking the shape of a winged thing, moving and dancing. She caught it in her hand, and it whirled around, licking softly at her skin. The branches moved beneath her, as if she were riding a great beast, and she wrapped her legs around a large log, knowing it would burn last. She raised her burning eyes to look around as before, but the stars and trees and sunsets of before were painted in fire and dancing flames, and within them, she saw her home, the great oak and the streams flowing from within it. Her father was there too, praying to other elven gods that these lands had never known. The faithful were dancing in circles, subjects and coronal* alike attended, a great feast was laid out, and she knew it was in her honor. For the one they thought dead. The lost daughter, the dead girl, the hated half-elf who never really did what was expected of her, but rather more and far too much. 

The pyre shifted again, and parts of it fell into dust beneath her, but the log held true. One hand clutched the log, and the other reached out towards the burning visions, before they were swept away, and they shifted into creatures of all sorts, and the biggest of all - a white wolf that bounded, blood pouring out of its neck. It jumped as if trying to escape its wound and shifted into a dragon, crowned and winged. It rose over her, and was bloodied again, ripped apart by the darkness from the night skies above. The figures moved and shifted between each other, over and over, from dragon to bird, to wolf, dizzying, mesmerizing, as the pyre fell apart beneath her and the log started to disintegrate as well. A great crackle and whir of the fire and another fall, while animals of all types swarmed her like bees. Owls, hallas, wolves, crows, and above it all, an inverted moon she knew all too well. Her father's god she had not prayed to in eons. Corellon*, she whispered, and smoke came out of her mouth with each syllable. They must not know your real name. Your true name. Idunn, the shrill voice of the fire screamed. 

As the pyre tumbled over, falling apart like a house of cards, something gigantic and incomprehensible rose over it all. No mind could comprehend the thing. Darker than night, absorbing it all, ever hungry, never satiated, eating life and thought and memory and magic alike, leaving nothing behind. Darkness and pulsing meat, all drawing life force from the living and sentient, its life depending on it, yearning for it as a lover yearns for unrequited desires. The fear it instilled in her was beyond words. Nothing had been worse and more frightening. Nothing mattered in the face of its desires, and when a great six-eyed wolf ripped the vision apart, she was brought back to the present. She cried out for the wolf, who was staring at her still as ever. 

When the log turned to ash beneath her, and she fell to the ground, another shape rose over the wolf. It seemed dragon at first, but when it wrapped its wings around the wolf, it was feathered and golden and splendid. It, too, blackened, feathers eaten away by black flames, crawling all over it like devouring insects. 

Darkness crawled into her mind like death. A death with visions and sounds, where all those she knew pulled a piece of her, ate her, as if her duty was to share a piece of her flesh with them all. As if she did not belong to herself, but to everyone else.

The night washed over her, and it felt like both an eternity and mere moments. Her eyes opened to dappled sunlight dancing over her face, and every breath smelled of ashes and burned herbs. She could not tell if she even had a body anymore, but when she moved her tongue, and it was sandpaper in her mouth, both relief and disappointment flooded her. Morning birds were singing their unnaturally beautiful tunes, and the wind carried the scent of flowers and lakes, and all was as well as before. The wheel turned as before.

She moved her hand and lifted it in front of her face to see it black and covered in soot, yet underneath, her skin and flesh remained unharmed. Her stomach churned in revolt when she moved her leg to lift herself, and she gagged, though nothing came out. The ash was as soft as her feather bed at the temple, and when she planted her palms on the ground to sit up, they sank into it up to her wrist.

She knelt there for a while, legs folded beneath her, and waited for something she could not name. Silence was all around; no one to see or help her, and all for the better. 

It worked, she thought in awe. She ran her fingers up her thighs, smudging away the soot, to reveal the pale skin underneath. Her clothes had burned away, and so had her hair, and she didn't expect anything else. But it worked. It worked; fear and euphoria stirred in her chest. 

Something was draped over her shoulders, and she saw the edges of her winged cape wrapping around her. It was filthy, muddied, but it was an anchor and a burden at the same time.

"I am sorry..." was all she heard, and she recognized the voice. Solas. He almost sounded like himself, like she remembered him, like the man she had loved. She wanted to cry again, but the fire had drunk all her tears away.

He stepped in front of her and sat on his haunches, eyes filled with a pain that seemed strange on his young face. 

"I cannot," she rasped out and tried to stand, only to fall back in the ash, a black cloud rising around her, making her cough. He softly touched her right cheek, his expression turning from pained to guarded, a small frown curling his brow. 

He let out a soft breath, "Allow me. Please," he said, and lifted her gingerly by her elbows. Her knees wobbled, but he didn't let her fall. "We must leave this place. Fast." 

He pulled the broad hood of her cape over her singed, bald head, wrapped its wings tighter around her body, and lifted her off the ground. She wanted to fight him, "Where are you taking me?", but she didn't have enough force, and he easily placed her on his Halla, hoping lightly behind her.

A pull of the reins, and the creature broke out into a run, taking them into the depths of the woods. Then, Solas hushed her softly, placed his hand upon her brow, and she gave in to the exhaustion and confusion that permeated her every fiber.

*Corellon - Supreme god of the DnD Elven patheon

*Coronal - Elven monarch who rules over a singular Elven realm

Chapter Text

The light filtered through the gossamer curtains, and she ran her hands up the silky duvet – softly, gingerly – directing her magic within the thread to cool it down and infuse it with the scent of wildflowers. Jasmine, honeysuckle, forget-me-nots, and wild honey filled her mind and heart. There were murmurs outside, birds, wind, but also voices and bangs and clangs. Servants going about their chores, agitated. A little too agitated.

"Let it be tranquility," she whispered, and all, except for the soft wind through the oaks, fell into a hush. It was preferable that her servants be at peace, too. They didn't need to bother their little hearts with useless thoughts. Not when she was preparing for a good day. A good day began with the sunrise. The first lights, the first sounds, the first scents and sensations created the day that would knit itself up to sunset, when it would unravel once more, for it to be remade again come the new rise.

The Solstice day was always mellow, and a golden light filled everything. She would not overwork herself today, just focus on pleasures and perhaps a visit or two. Despite it all, a good beginning was a requirement.

She turned to her side, eyes opening to fall upon her beloved, her golden spirit, her heart of hearts. She needed him, but didn't need nor want to wait, so she softly caressed his chiseled cheek, down over his reddish black hair, twirling her fingers within it. She had done so well with him. So much love and forethought went into every part of him that each time her eyes fell upon his, her spirit would soar with love and joy.

And so devoted and good was he in return. After all, she had beckoned him, she had mended him, she had offered him a means to taste creation and ecstasy. She was his everything, and he was her own.

His eyes opened a little bit, long lashes fluttering over luminous eyes that held gold and jewels within them.

"My heart..." he whispered just as her hand had wound down to his chest, the duvet obediently following her fingers, revealing his golden skin and powerful stomach. Her fingers softly followed the sinuous lines of his body, coaxing, caressing, until a lazy moan escaped his reddened lips. He had indulged in the spiced wine so much last night that his lips were still stained with it.

It was good. The Solstice festival was a rare and precious event that deserved to be enjoyed to its fullest. Next year, the Solstice celebration would be far simpler, and there would be some time until they got another like the one that had just come to pass. "Awaken my memory upon the night's events, my flame," June whispered and wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling her to him.

"Mm, glorious food and drinks, as per usual," she bit her lip and her radiant eyes rolled up to him, unnamed sensations being sent without word, "a spectacular display of arts, music, dances." She pushed him on his back with one well-placed hand on his chest and he obeyed, "delightful, holy little chooslings for all of us. Each with a different spirit. Each a mirror of creation," she rolled on top of him, sliding like a snake over his strong body, "and you, my heart, descending upon the brass dragon, looking like all my dreams in one vision." She giggled and fell upon him with a hard, breathtaking kiss.

His large, warm hands explored her, sliding over curves and valleys that he knew better than his own body or even the wondrous creations in his forge. She squirmed under his touch, the smile never leaving her lips as she feasted upon his mouth. She sank her fingers into his hair, strands like dark silk caressing her skin. The callouses on his palms caught the impossibly thin shift she had on, and, to spare herself the discomfort, she sat up, thighs tight around his waist, and pulled the whole thing off, throwing it carelessly on an ottoman by the bed.

"Why forgo arriving on dragonback, my love?" June murmured and cupped her breasts, hands sliding up to her neck, holding her face with reverence. "Us together upon them! What a vision to behold!"

"Marvelous indeed! But, you must know we have an impression to uphold. I have. You can be careless. I..." she laughed, throwing her head back, and bucking her hips over his once. He was hard. Oh, so very hard, and she licked her lips before speaking again, "I have other means. Gentler..." she whispered as she softly engulfed him within her to the hilt, rolling her hips languidly, "...and far more efficient." Thighs flexed as she lifted herself slightly, only to fall upon him once more. "Besides," she all but keened at the feel of him hot and thick within her, "there was no room for my dragon there."

His dark brows curled in pleasure, and he let his head fall back, his neck like a marble column. "Ride me, my emerald!" he said, his voice broken and pleading, and she also obeyed. He obeyed her in all things, and so did she... in many things...

She splayed her fingers upon his lower abdomen and slowly moved her hips, savoring each thrust, each slide in and out. There was no good reason to rush; the future opened endlessly before them, dazzling in its perfection and possibilities.

Her body wanted more, and she let it take, undulating faster, hot flesh, eager and pulsing around him like a vice, his fingers curled and digging painfully into her thighs, unbridled moans escaping his open mouth. She took it all in, opened her heart to him, felt what he felt, just as he felt what she felt. Bodies entwined, just as their minds were, spirit to spirit, flesh to flesh. Eternally as one.

"Give me your heart, my love. My gold-blooded lord..." she sighed and sank lower, deeper, letting him reach those places that made her soar even higher than she would even on her dragon. Burn and crash, touch the firmament and all the luminaries as one. Golden light bloomed between them, shattering into rainbows, fragmenting and scintillating around their bodies. It was pure, wild magic that would burn or break others into pieces, but for them, it bowed and fell into order because it surged from their union.

A deep sigh escaped his mouth, and more light bloomed just as their pleasure intertwined as one. She felt it all curling in her stomach, a coil of pure energy that swept through her spirit, igniting it all in fire renewed. Her head fell back, mouth open, harnessing the magic, letting it absorb through her skin. He did the same, but using his palms, opening his long fingers, flared and eager, the light obediently wrapping around him, up to his shoulders. She looked in awe as his biceps shone with magic, the sinews suddenly brighter and stronger than ever, the glow traveling up to his shoulders and strong neck.

"Yesss, my fire, my love," she cried out as her ecstasy rose to its peak and her entire body pulsed and clenched, beneath the glow that had filled the chamber.

She rolled off of him, full of energy and force, breathing deeply and unable to hide her smile. "Ah, breathtaking as always..."

"We were made for this..." June exhaled, an arm over his eyes, skin glistening in the morning light. "You were made for this..." he glanced at her, a mischievous smile in the crinkled corner of his eye.

"I was made for so many things," she said, stretching like a cat as she sat on the edge of the bed. "And now I must drift from your warm arms for a time..."

"I shall pine for you until the moon rises," June sat on one elbow to receive a soft, slow kiss from her.

"As you should!" she whispered against his lips.

*

The servants swarmed like bees upon seeing her. It was a day of leisure and beauty, so she wore a long, loose dress that barely covered her in the right places. She merely needed to bask in the perfection around her and observe how her devotees were performing before making some required visits. Her three most beloved ladies in waiting immediately appeared by her side to attend to her, and she greeted them warmly.

While most of the other Evanuris had chosen to live in the heart of Arlathan, each residing in their respective towers, she chose a different place. A grand cottage in the middle of her forest, tree houses for the servants and oaks all around, streams and meadows, gardens and orchards, all guarded by her pines. No one could enter without her leave, unless they were looking for a bout of delirium, of course...

She sat on her favorite chair by the stream, surrounded by flowers and creeping vines. Her ladies joined her on smaller chairs, all four of them painting a picture of otherworldly beauty. A servant brought refreshments, and looking at the rest of them bustling through the garden, gentleness imbued her, and she decided she needed to hear their lilting voices, so without even a flick of her hand, she opened their throats, letting them speak again. They were all used to her desires and commands, so they did not erupt into any ruckus when she allowed them to speak again. Rather, they went about their previous conversations as if they never even stopped.

Refreshing tea was brought, and it helped put her thoughts in order. After such an eventful Solstice, something was bound to have happened. She, just like all the other Evanuris, had felt something strange occurring during the days of the hunt, and she also knew about the Chosen who was meant for her. She did not covet the All Father's possessions, even if the strange girl did catch her eye. There was something odd about her, yet the most intriguing thing was her offering herself as a sacrifice, which was unheard of. The girl walked upon that pyre and faced the dragon as if the fear of perishing was alien to her. Alright, maybe she did covet this particular possession of the All Father; she smiled to herself into the steaming cup.

Furthermore, she did not quite approve of the way the All Father handled the situation. He mostly spoke in the girl's mind, but many nobles and the Evanuris likely gleaned what he was saying, and most importantly, fearing.

The feeling that something was still disrupted lingered, though, and the bizarre agitation that she could sense from her ladies was further proof. The very air vibrated with it, and it was a daily habit to ask for any rumors and recent events when she had her morning tea with them.

"Say it, my rays of light! I see you positively bursting with it."

The youngest, but also the most daring, immediately straightened her back and looked up at her with big eyes the color of a sea at sunset. "My lady! You put the servants at peace earlier because they were noisy, but they were so for a reason... something happened the morning after the burning... I mean, after the Solstice."

Sylaise's eyes widened, and she swiftly turned her burning gaze upon the women, "Do go on..." she quietly uttered, already knowing what she would hear. She felt it, could see it before it happened, and could see it happening in her mind's eye. The girl...

The other two ladies looked at each other, then at the younger one, "The All Father's Chosen, my lady," one of them murmured, but the younger one shushed her swiftly, "Maybe we must call for the servants who did see this, or rather who heard from other servants."

Sylaise was growing increasingly impatient. "Tell me what it is, and then I'll decide if there is a need for more mouths and ears," she said harshly, making the ladies cower. She knew what it was. Of course, she did.

The third, the silent, stern one, tall and willowy, sighed and intervened, "The girl did not burn, my lady. She survived the Night Dragon's flames."

Sylaise smiled lightly and sipped from her cup again. As expected. "So there is a need for extra mouths. Call upon the servants who know more," she commanded.

The stern lady in waiting nodded and looked around the garden, "Her," she said. "Both of them, as a matter of fact," she waved her arm and called to two young women who were huddled together, whispering by the side of the stream while tending a patch of giant irises. "You two, come here."

The two servant women all but jumped out of their skins, but scurried towards them nonetheless.

"My lights," Sylaise began, her voice softer, "I hear you saw, or rather heard, of some curious happenings. Care to tell me?"

The two women bowed and looked at each other before stammering, talking over the other, "One at a time. You. Luana, go on..."

"Enuel saw it... He tends to the dragons..." Luana whispered. "Or well, saw her, the All Father's Chosen...or rather the sacrifice..." more stammering as the woman tried finding her words. "She was in the ashes, bare, no clothes, no hair even, like some black, scorched demon."

"How is that possible?" one of the ladies in waiting gasped. "And what happened to her?"

"The Wolf took her! Rode upon his black halla and spirited her away into the woods..." Luana continued in a small voice.

At that, silence fell upon the women. Only Sylaise smiled and sighed. "Ah, fates are aligning." She looked upon the two servant girls and gently caressed their cheeks. "Thank you, my lights. You have done so well. Next time, bring the news to me swiftly. No dawdling and whispering behind your flowers. Run to me immediately."

The two bowed lower, chanting, "Of course, my lady," over and over. "These words shall not leave my glade, understood?" was a command to which they had no words, but rather just deep bows. "You are free to go about your duties, and when the sun sets, you may have the evening to yourselves," she said, and sent them on their way before placing the tea cup upon the delicate table beside her.

"Attend to my dress and preparations. I must pay a visit to the Vhenadhal and the All Father. I shall need unassuming garments that conceal me from prying eyes," she directed the ladies in waiting.

"We must join you, my lady!" said one of them breathlessly.

"Why would you?" Sylaise asked with laughter in her voice. "No, no, this I must do on my own. Now go."

The ladies sat up swiftly without further grousing and went to her chambers inside the cottage.

*

Sylaise's eluvian was a thing of beauty, made by her beloved with everything she loved and brought joy to her heart. All the flowers and trees she adored hugged the frame, as did jewels and metals that were closer to her heart. Copper, gold, and brass vines and foliage encased it fully. Emeralds, rubies, and topaz decorated it, and they emitted a perpetual glow that moved and shifted depending on where you stood. The sculpted vegetation moved at her command as well, shifting apart when she approached, to reveal the shimmering silvery surface underneath.

Wearing a deep brown cloak and a dull tunic, hair in a simple braid, she approached the eluvian and, after the vines and branches moved aside, she stepped through it. It led her to one of its many sisters, the one by the Vhenadhal, a far simpler and more practical model. One of the first that June had built, before he honed his craft to the marvel that it now was. Her beloved had full control over them, and in his fist, he held the knowledge of who traveled between them and where they went. This was another gift he had crafted as a sign of devotion to her.

When she arrived at the great Heart Tree, the servants were already swarming the area, quietly flitting about with chores, but a few nobles were there as well. It was a blessing because she could blend in more easily in a crowd. It would have been natural for her to be there, but she did not need the disruption or the attention when communing with the tree.

She swiftly passed the dragon enclosure, which was now in utter disarray, with uprooted shrubs and trampled ground, but slowed her pace as she reached the ashes. There was nothing left within them, just powdery grey covering a large piece of ground. The ashes held the light of trees and growing things, not that of flesh, and various spirits lingered around the area, flickering in and out of existence, most of them Curiosity, but others of Faith and Hope as well. They gathered like birds around a favoured meal. She wondered why she needed more confirmation for the obvious. Perhaps because the plan she had in mind was not yet well laid, and she had to weave it together as she went.
All she knew was that she had waited and even tried to bring forth such an event, extraordinary enough to be used for the good of everyone. She wondered whether this strange girl was her doing, or if she had brought her to flesh just as she did June. Likely.

The tree called to her. She was her daughter after all, and each time Sylaise approached, the Vhenadhal rejoiced. She slipped between the abandoned tables and upturned chairs, climbed the platform where the vallaslin ritual had been held, and slipped around the side of the great trunk until she found the twisting stair that led to the upper platforms, up in the tree. Here she'd have privacy to speak to her daughter in peace.

Her pale fingers lit on the rough surface of the tree, and she placed her temple upon it, "Mother, my heart longed for yours. Is your spirit light upon this moon?" the tree spoke in a voice carried by the wind that kissed her leaves, and Sylaise's hands hugged the trunk even tighter. "My spirit soars, as it always does, my child. I am here to call upon the wisdom of your infinite green eyes. They see it all and know it all."

"Has the wanderer been found?" the tree whispered. "The one by flamed cleansed..."

"You always know what I need before I utter it. My heart, my daughter," sighed Sylaise. "She has not been found, nor even searched yet, and it is why I am here. To ask for the truth of your eyes. Pray tell, what have your leaves seen?"

"Flame consumed. Flame destroyed. The wanderer is bound to her fate and faith. As the flame consumed and birthed her. She shall soothe and destroy..." The tree fell into a lull, the sound of wind becoming garbled, as if voices upon voices fought for dominance. "She is from afar. One of my brothers from beyond the pale beckons to her..." The tree finally spoke after a long while. "The wanderer has yet to be born, yet she bows to the turning of the wheel. On and on it rumbles forwards and backwards. Bearers of flesh are ever bound to it. As is the wanderer..."

Sylaise's heart felt less light than before. "Where is she from... Daughter, tell me," she interjected with urgency.

"From afar. My eyes do not see those lands. Those sunrises. Not yet."

"Tell me more!" she asked breathlessly.

"All I see are lights and twilights ever moving, ever turning. I am sorry." The Vhenadhal was sad, and she could feel the guilt within her as if it were her own. She did not mean to hurt her creations in any way, but the things she had heard were like storms within her chest. She had hoped it was simple. Sylaise knew her focus had been as exceptional as ever, and that it had been she who shielded the girl from the ever-consuming fires of the Night's Dragon, but the Vhenadhal's words put a heavy burden upon the Hearthkeeper.

The tale could be spun in any manner to the other Evanuris. They would know she was exceptional and had protected herself from the fires through sheer will, and they would not know it was Sylaise who had done it. Most importantly, the All Father will know that, or even better, he will believe that only his Chosen could be oh so special. It had always been easy for her to persuade him, to steer him where she wanted him. She knew exactly what to do and say, and he trusted her, but she needed even more control, and the only way to gain it was through someone exceptional enough. She had sent many other members of her personal court to stay by his side and be her eyes, ears, and hands, but none had lasted more than a sun's passing before being sent away to menial tasks, or worse. She had built everything the light touched in Arlathan, but often her influence felt like it was slipping between her fingers, her brothers and sisters seizing control and struggling to steer the ship. She needed to secure it all, or it would fall into chaos.

For that reason alone, she had been certain she had called upon the girl herself, from the sheer desire to gain that grip upon the All Father who was at the helm. She wanted to believe that, at the very least, it had been her hand that shielded the girl from the fires...

Now she was less sure of that, and Sylaise being uncertain was a rare and alarming occurrence.

"I thank you, my child," she said softly, leaning her forehead against the tree and closing her eyes, communing with her for moments that felt eternal. "You are ever wise. These words shall stay between you and I, and if anything valuable arises, you must beckon."

"So it shall be done, mother. Time must pass for wisdom anew to flow through my limbs..." said the Vhenadhal through the winds as Sylaise turned away and descended the narrow, winding stairs.

Some people turned, likely recognizing her, but it was inconsequential. She was known to walk among the commoners, and it kept them in line.

She stepped through the Vhenadhal eluvian and returned to the crossing of her own eluvian - the place June had built for her to travel everywhere. A dark, round chamber with shimmering stars and numerous eluvians arranged in a circle. She took a few deep breaths, releasing the absurd anxiety that had crawled inside her, and stepped through the one that she knew took her to the All Father's tower. All she had to do was envision the exact eluvian she meant to travel through, and she would be sent there. The All Father, just like all the other Evanuris, had his personal one, but she did not want to barge into his personal quarters unannounced, so she chose the eluvian by the entrance to his tower. It was a matter of politeness, yes, but also diplomacy, something which she needed at that moment. Something which she mastered.

A plan already threading itself in her mind, she stepped confidently towards the imposing staircase after inquiring about his whereabouts. The entrance keeper, a masked man who sat by the stairs at all times, directed her to his study.

The arched obsidian doors to the All Father's personal den opened at a flick of her hand, and she walked in without any reservations, confidently greeting him. As she expected, he was ready to admonish the intruder, but upon seeing who it was, he gave a sigh and an amused nod.

"Ah, who else..." he said and sat back in his chair.

"Good morn, father," she greeted with a smile. "Ah, the light is ever so inviting in your solarium," she added with a delighted smile, taking in the chamber once more.

"All courtesy of your masterful work."

So it was. Sylaise had built it all herself, with June's inspiration when he was still but a figment of the Fade. It was a beautiful creation. The tallest tower of all and the largest, the study and solarium at the very top, just below a metallic sun imbued with magic that radiated its own light. The walls themselves were all arched windows, gold spun and wrapped with flowering vines, and behind the imposing desk, a magnificent terraced garden opened, complete with its own pond and bathhouse. The study had a direct door to the largest library in the empire as well. Great magic had been used so that the space inside was far larger than it appeared on the outside; thus, so many areas and chambers could be housed beneath the ever-whirring artificial sun. She had given them each what she knew they held dearest. The All Father loved leisure and opulent beauty, among other things; thus, she offered him just that.

"Indeed," she said, "am I welcome for a chat?"

"Always!"

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed and sat across from him without an invitation that he need not utter anyway.

"I presume something is on your mind for you to appear here at this hour. Surely after the revel, unwinding with your beloved would have been preferable," he said, and she noticed his desk was quite cluttered with various scrolls. Some of which had been scribbled on. She also noticed he pushed the one he had been writing aside, folding it away from her eyes. She could tell there were sky maps and other strange diagrams she could not make out. She knew what they contained, though, or at the very least why he had them there.

"I had my rest, Father. And I always enjoy our chats, you know that. They are ever so enlightening."

"Likewise," he added lightly, though she could see impatience rising. "Shall you tell me what it is you require? I have important matters to attend to."

"Hm," she hummed. "You wonder why I am not indulging in a slow morning, and yet here you are, as busy as a bee after your own celebration. Why, do follow your own advice!" She laughed and leaned closer to the desk. "What are all of these?" she asked, feigning utter ignorance as she picked up one of the scrolls that had an astral diagram painted in clear, stark lines.

"Nothing you have not seen before," he said, and plucked the scroll from her fingers.

"Mhm, the great unknown? The dreams about a storm from the stars? Yes, yes, I know, of course, and I honestly do not want to talk about it, but rather about something completely different, yet no less...riveting." She gave him an indulgent smile, as if he were a child with a very intense, yet dull obsession. He seemed relieved, and she filed that away for a later discussion. As dull as his preoccupation seemed to be, after recent findings, she found herself interested in it.

"Daughter of mine, always the ever knowing, the ever curious. Now you have piqued my interest. What is it that eats at you?"

"I believe it is related to what has been eating at you..." she said. "Join me in the gardens. I want to see how the last roses I brought are doing."

"They are flourishing! We can just as easily speak here." He sighed and ran his hand over his face in quite a rare display of exhaustion. Only a select few would witness such signs of weakness.

She huffed and stood up swiftly, completely ignoring his eye roll. "I do not think you fully understand me, Father. I shall only speak of it there," she said, pointing at the inviting garden behind his chair. She turned away from him without any other word and stepped through the magical, shimmering veil that separated the study from the verdant chamber beyond. It was there to keep the extraordinary plants in stasis, yet at the same time not obstruct the view of the marvelous greenhouse.

Sylaise breathed in the hot, humid air carrying the scents of fresh earth and flowers. It was heady, and it never failed to delight her. She had a similar, though far larger, greenhouse adjacent to her own quarters at the Hearth Cottage, and it was one of her favorite places to retire, read, and welcome guests.

She heard the soft swishing of the magical wall as Elgar'nan followed her and smiled to herself. "Thank you, father. I appreciate it."

"I expect you to remember I indulged your whims," he said from behind her, seemingly serious, but a note of amusement was in his voice.

"Indulged me? Better yet, you indulged yourself. Sitting in that chair and poring over nightmares is not very lucrative," she said as they fell into step along the winding pebbled paths that snaked through the greenhouse.

"I have good reason. Last eve..." he said and let out a breath, but she did not allow him to continue.

"Indeed, last eve! The Solstice night! Something extraordinary happened. I am here to speak about that."

"Extraordinary? Andruil being a nuisance, the lapdog scheming? The usual affair. Or perhaps you refer to a Chosen willingly offering themselves to the pyre. That is... singular, yes. But extraordinary?" he raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a searching look. "Unless something has not reached my ears yet? I know you have numerous ears across the empire..."

He knew her too well. "Father, I am a creator and lover of all things that grow — a hearth keeper —, but I amuse myself by being a keeper of whispers, as you well know. So yes, indeed, something has not reached your ears."

They had reached one side of the circular greenhouse, which, just like the wall separating the study from the rest of the space, was protected by the same magical veil. Here, the shield was tall and wide, the light pouring in through its scintillating surface, bathing a small table with chairs and a chaise. She chose the chaise, making herself comfortable among the rich pillows, and looked up at Elgar'nan expectantly.

"Well? Join me! Sit!" she said, waving towards one of the chairs.

"I have done that quite a lot," he sneered. "And commanding me shall not persuade me, daughter," he added, and walked around the chairs to look out the vast veil window and to the entire city that sprawled below as far as the eye could see. He had a full view of the upper and lower Arlathan, but also of the Vhenadhal from here.

"Very well. Let us not waste any more time. Your Chosen," she sighed, playing with the tassel of the cream pillow, "or rather mine. She has not burned. She is alive and well."

Elgar'nan turned to her like some bird of prey, all frowns and thinned lips. "Beg your pardon?"

"Now, now, let us not get ahead of ourselves. I am here with the news and a solution!"

"Before we do get ahead of ourselves, tell me, are there more poisonous news you bring on your honeyed tongue, or that is all?" he spoke quietly.

"I shall say that... it is not all, but my plan and solution are quite honeyed, despite you denouncing the news as poisonous."

He let out a deep breath and finally sat in one of the chairs, the picture of leisure, reclining on the headrest, one leg over the other, but she could see the clench in his jaw still.

"Where is she now?" he asked.

"With Solas..."

He let out another breath and pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose. "Ah, of course she is. As I suspected."

"What did you suspect?"

"Several things. That she is here as a secret envoy, a spy, for the usurpers, the ones Solas associates with, or that she is from further away..."

"Anaris?" Sylaise laughed. "Do not tell me you believe that pile of Halla waste capable of such plans?"

"There are others superior to him. Others who can orchestrate. He is but the court jester, but we must not ignore the threat from the others, nor from those who may lurk from beyond."

"The dreams again?" she asked, this time trying to offer some interest in his fears.

He nodded, "Eyes in the dark, hearts and blood pulsing red, but those are mere trifles in the face of their dark whispers..."

"What do they whisper?"

"Of our fall and the hunger for what we possess..." he hissed, and there was anger in his voice, as if he wished he could crush them even without seeing them, nor knowing how the whisperers looked.

"So nothing has changed..." she said with a soft inhale. She did not have these dreams, but her dreaming was not directed as far beyond as his. Her interests lay elsewhere... "Do you really believe they would send a slip of a girl to spy on us?" she said after a while with a lighthearted laughter. "Or even worse, steal our magic?"

"She has endured the fires of the Night Dragon," he said incredulously. "And she has dalliances with the lapdog," he uttered the word with disgust. "The lapdog associates himself with those abhorrent worms, plotting with them. The fair action would be to bring her to court and finish what Lusacan could not." He tapped the chair armrest, his eyes roaming the greenhouse in deep thought. "You cannot deny the disruption that was felt moons ago. You have felt it as well."

"I have, yes," she admitted. "But that is an even stronger reason for us to... keep her," he rolled his eyes impatiently, but she continued, not allowing him a moment of pointless paranoia. "She did not go willingly with Solas. He took her. He rode on the Halla, and as the sun was at the horizon, he found her in the ashes. I could sense him in the woods, watching the burning, so he waited for us all to leave, and came to spirit her away," she said with urgency in her voice, and finally, his expression did change, turning darker, more focused. She wanted to smile, seeing she had him exactly where she wanted. Someone stealing something that was his, and worst of all, that someone being Solas, could not be easily overlooked. "Why must you think that her resistance to the fires is a dark omen? Why could it not be a good one? Would it not be apt for one of your Chosens to resist a conflagration? Or maybe it was even your own magic, or your vallaslin imbuing your subject with such powers!"

"Vallaslin..." he rasped thoughtfully. "I have not sensed her spirit, and the connection is severed. It is why I was certain she had perished."

"Oh really?" she said softly. This was something she did not expect, but it made things easier. "Hm, maybe the place where the wolf took her has some sort of wards that prevent intrusion?"

"Perhaps..." He shifted in his chair, deep in thought. "He did show immense interest in her. Far more than in any other of my Chosens..."

Sylaise smiled and watched him carefully. "Have you...watched? As is your habit?"

He gave her a small smile and shrugged lightly, almost innocently, "What else is there to do during such a dull affair?"

"Did he know you were watching?"

"Know," he laughed. "He directly provoked me."

"Ah, admit that you enjoy the game!"

"As I have said, languishing at that table all night, drinking wine and watching the entertainment... ah... it gets dull after a time. Furthermore, I have brought the boy here for a reason, and I mean to discover his full potential. He shall be ordained Whisperer and take the place of his sire. He shows tremendous talent."

Sylaise chuckled to herself at his words. She knew that each Solstice, or during any other grand event when the All Father had to be nothing more and nothing less than the stoic emperor of the greatest empire known to all living beings, he would use his Whisperer to look and listen upon his subjects, but also to get a taste of things that were not proper for him to enjoy under so many eyes.

Dhen'luong's family had performed this duty for centuries, until Luong's father had perished in mysterious circumstances. Now it was his son who took his place. It was no doubt and no surprise that the Brier would have ensnared him as it sensed his noble blood.

"Dhen'luong, is it?" she asked, and Elgar'nan nodded in acknowledgment. "He does hail from a long line of Whisperers. It is to be expected that he is a natural. They are famed and treasured throughout the Imperium."

"Indeed... Both Dhen'luong and Sulime have been honored with their respective places by my side. Sulime requires training to acquire a rank among my personal guard. She is a dull weapon, but very eager to sharpen," Elgar'nan said proudly, and Sylaise was just as proud to see that she had chased away the worries at least for a while. Calmer also meant easier to convince. "Do not steer the conversation from the matter at hand. The girl. Vara'diel. You spoke of plans, and I am willing to listen."

"I knew you would! Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever advised you wrongly?" She smiled and sat up from her reclined position.

"I am ever willing to admit the merits of those dearest to me, so no, daughter, you have not," he inclined his head slowly, indulgently.

"Thank you! These words warm my heart!" She smiled fully and joyfully, and it was honest, for she was always delighted when her plans followed the thread she envisioned. "You spoke of ranks and places by your side. You have three, or has that slipped your mind?"

"Ah," Elgar'nan huffed almost derisively. "That rank is a waste. A position which has only wasted my time and resources."

"The Healer," Sylaise uttered the title as if it were a spell unto itself, "such a colorful and delightful title when placed by the Whisperer and the Shield! Why not have it again? It has been so long since one has graced your halls, father..."

"And that has been for a reason. They have all failed their duties."

"I saw they serve well as priestesses..." Sylaise murmured. "One of them is wonderful, and I often call upon her aid with my own servants. I must wonder what happened to the others, though, father..."

He turned his gleaming eyes at her, all but surprised by such a question, "Why, they have been...retired, of course."

"Those you deemed traitors? You have...denied their existence?"

"Yes," he shrugged. "A far kinder fate than being consumed by the ever incandescent flames of the Night Dragon, would you not say so?"

She knew he could simply make the bodies of some disappear in thin air. Rescind their very existence from the world. He did not perform such magic often, for it drained even him. He was, though, the only one of them who could do it and who had done it.

"I would surely say so, and I would add that the burning was not even a punishment. She would have perished for naught..."

Elgar'nan listened to her, face expressionless, though she could tell he was not indifferent. "Not for naught..." he said.

"Hm, indeed. For magic, I am aware. But she survived, has she not? Who would be more deserving of the Healer title than one who has gone through raw dragon fire and walked out unscathed?" She paused for effect and to gauge a reaction from him, which did not come. "I do believe Solas is aware of her value, and it is why he got his hands on her," she added, knowing this would get a reaction.

"Sylaise, the Healer does not quite heal. You are aware of that, are you not?"

"Of course I am!" she smiled and stood up from the recliner. She had grown bored with sitting, so she strolled around the flowers, "The Healer soothes the mind," she said as she softly touched the wilted bough of a great rose bush. It answered her by raising its leaves towards her fingers, green and healthy once more. "The Healer advises, appeases woes, tells stories..." She turned to face him again. He was mockingly serene, and she laughed. "Pours your wine, even entertains when needed! Goodness Father, you complain of dull affairs, but you certainly fight anything that might chase away that dullness! How do you live like this?"

"Quite well, I can assure you!" He shifted as if he wanted to stand, but changed his mind and remained in his filigree chair. Sylaise wanted to throw her hands in the air with frustration, but kept her composure, knowing the work was not yet done. "We shall see what we do with her, and I may, perchance, entertain you and offer her that position, but first, I shall send men to retrieve her. The lapdog and his games..." he grumbled, shaking his head. "He may have taken her because he witnessed her resisting the fires, yes, but I can assure you he did it to aggravate me as well. Had she been yours, as she was meant to be, you would have retrieved her yourself from the ashes."

"No, I will go after her!" Sylaise said quickly. "Let me deal with him. If you send your men, everyone shall know Solas took her. Do you want that? It is far better in the face of the nobles and the entire empire that they do not know he is capable of stealing the All Father's Chosen so easily. It shall look like a weakness."

"You are correct," he acquiesced, "I am aware he has a place for himself where he meets with his own people. It is likely she is there. Do you require any of my men? Desmal perchance?"

"Oh no," Sylaise said, chuckling, hiding a grimace of disgust, "Desmal is the last of your men I would take with me on such an adventure. Hm, perhaps her friend would be eager to help. The one whom the dragon had wanted for the burning. I am certain if she is there, the girl will be terribly eager and happy to see and follow us," Sylaise clapped her hands in excitement, and Elgar'nan indulged her with a tired nod.

"Very well..." he sighed and stood. "Sulime is her name. The Shield in training. You may take her with you. As I have said, she lacks formal training. You shall need more men."

"You are as kind as ever, father! This is a gift!"

He looked at her with a sharp, calculating smile, "I must wonder, though, where does such eagerness to have your chosen amongst my ranks stems from?"

Sylaise walked to one of the shrubs she had truly meant to see — a wild brier that produced large golden flowers. She had created the plant especially for the All Father. It was indeed thriving, as he had said, and she plucked one gleaming flower before turning back to him, "Father, look at this! Is it not beautiful?"

"Had I been blind, I might say it was not. Alas, I am not."

"So it is," she nodded. "Have my gifts ever been loathsome? Unpleasant? Cursed?"

"Not that I recall, but time is not wasted. One may very well be one day," he quipped.

"Tsk, I would have her for myself, as she was fated," she twirled the rose between her fingers, "but I gift her to you, knowing she is singular and special and the god emperor deserves only the best." She pushed the rose into his chest, and he caught it. She walked around him towards the shimmering wall that led to his study. "Preparations shall be made hastily, and I shall return her to you in a fortnight. May your day be enlightening, father!"

She threw one last glance over her shoulder to see him standing in the middle of the path, flower in hand, looking at her with amused disapproval. "My day is already unbearably enlightening, Sylaise. May yours be fruitful," he called after her just as she lightly stepped through the shimmering barrier.

On her way down the stairs, towards the Eluvian, she ran into Desmal, who looked particularly agitated and in a hurry to reach his master. Even his long silver hair was slightly mussed, and his usually composed, stern expression was anything but.

"He already knows," Sylaise whispered as she passed him. He gasped softly, but she did not stop to elaborate, just gave him an enchanting smile and continued her descent.

She really had no time for more chatter, and especially not with Desmal. The plan was within her grasp. Perhaps not quite as she had predicted, for nothing really was predictable, but her heart jumped with excitement at the small victory.