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Chapter Text

The Grey Warden, As’lana Tabris, has survived more than the average elf in Thedas. She never bragged or made anyone feel less than they were. That was until she met her first Elvhen. Not a Dalish elf, no, an ancient elf that lived in the days of Arlathan. Immortal as long as they slept. The elves made a point of speaking to her only in elven with contempt and clear disgust. She had told them in their own language exactly what she thought of them. This led to a battle between her and the six men and women; they lost. She left that encounter with nothing but dislike for the ancient people, hers descended from.  

That first meeting had shaded every other instance she met one of these immortal elves. She had nothing positive to say about the beings, and wondered if the good ones either died defending Arlathan or kept their identities a secret. As’lana doubted that second greatly. They always let her know exactly how much better they were from her. Even, Valor, her spirit teacher, told her, that the ancient Elvhen were not worth her time. Cowards that hid in the shadows, mourning their lost world, while letting what was left vanish along with the spirits of their abandoned children.   

The Temple of Mythal was no different ancient elves that called the Dalish children, shadows of what was. Abelas looked down on the Inquisitor while having hid for centuries guarding a dead Goddess’s temple. How many could these men and women have saved during the fall of Arlathan, or the Dales? As’lana didn’t say a word, doing her best to respect the Inquisitor’s misguided reverence of the elves that were hypocrites. She could not keep the contempt from her face however, eyes burning with a dislike mirrored at her.   

She wasn’t surprised when they agreed to let the Inquisitor assist them with the invaders, nor was she surprised when Morrigan gave chase. Somethings never changed. They battled through the temple, easily reaching the Red Templar that was responsible for so much suffering. He fell to the rune Dagna made, and they were at the well. Morrigan arguing her belief in protecting what was left of the magical world that had fallen. Personally, As’lana didn’t care what world they were in; it would always be filled with and ran by greed and hatred. Some would also be below, while others rose above.  

It would always be the way of it. She wondered for a moment why she continued to struggle and kept trying to better the world. It was a useless fight after all. The supposed mythical Arlathan was just as faulty as this world was. Slaves, hatred, elves fighting elves. She was sick of it.   

“Elvhen like you?” The Inquisitor and everyone else were watching Morrigan at the Well of Sorrows. They were trying to decide who would get to drink the supposed knowledge. She didn’t think there was anything good that could come from a thing called the Well of Sorrows. Surely Sorrow was not what anyone wanted. Those thoughts moved to the back of her mind as she watched and listened to Solas and Abelas speak.  

“Elvhen like me.” As’lana felt her blood turn cold. She had not disliked Solas. She found his unwavering need to seek and restore the old world before it was put asunder, as Valor told her, annoying. There was little else to him, as far as she knew. He stood silently apart from the rest of them, in his Rotunda, painting his Fresco. He’d answer questions, but not always, and not completely. She had thought it was a weird teaching style to help others figure out the answers themselves. She had respected that. Problem solving and thinking it through was much better than someone simply handing over the answer. As she watched the two elves exchange words in elven, and sort of standoff from everyone else. It all made sense. Abelas looked back at him briefly before vanishing down the stairs. Morrigan and the Inquisitor were still arguing.  

*Italicized are in elven*  

“ You’re Elvhen. ” As’lana let the words slip out of her mouth as fluently as a native speaker. Valor was an old Spirit, one of the oldest if he was to be believed. He spoke many languages, elven was one of the first. He had starting speaking to her in the language slowly until she could converse in it as easily as Common. She had not made it known to anyone in the Inquisition of her knowledge. There was something satisfying when listening to Solas and the Inquisitor speak when they thought no one could understand them. Solas didn’t reply, merely looked at her curiously. The others had yet to notice the building tension between them. “ I wondered what it was you were doing here. Everyone has reasons for doing what they do. ” The complexed words and phrases lost to time rolled off her tongue. She made sure to speak respectfully. Slight changing in words and structure the only separation between casual and formal speak. She was confident The Inquisitor would not be able to understand her, possibly Morrigan could if she cared to listen.   

“ I was not aware you spoke Elven. ” Solas ignored her question, his eyes looking at her thoughtfully.  

“ There is much about me you do not know and will never. ” She sneered. “ I am but a shadow of what you were after all. A fragment, soulless. ” She turned back to the argument still heated and unending between the Inquisitor and Morrigan. She shook her head, moving to look at the liar before her. “ The world Fen’harel put asunder made me broken, or so your People tell me. ” Solas tensed at that phrase, but she didn’t really care.  

“ Where did you learn of that? ” His eyes were a blend of curiosity and anger. The anger she didn’t understand, but she did not care to.  

“ You are not the only one who can converse with Spirits. ” She tipped her head in mocked respect. “ How much Pride to think so? I had thought your name ill fitted, but I admit it is perfect. ” Solas loosened in his stance, there was a hesitation to him now. Uncertainty of what she would do with her knowledge.  

“ What will you do ?” His voice was thick, and she took in his form. He intended to fight her if her answer was not what he hoped.  

“ Why are you with the Inquisition? ” She crossed her arms, eyes narrowed at him. She didn’t know herself. There was little reason to inform anyone of what he was. He had nothing truly to gain from aiding them beyond saving the world, and possibly a place at the Inquisitor’s side. Though he didn’t seem particularly interested in the Dalish elf’s advances.   

“The Breach and tears will mean an end to us all. ” He shrugged “ Even those such as me. ” She watched him for a moment, trying to decide if he was speaking the truth, or just some of it. There was something in the back of her mind that jumped out and blasted out of her mouth before she could think.  

“ The Orb. ” She took a step closer to him, eyes wide in joy at having crack a hard puzzle.  “You’re after the Orb. ” She laughed lightly, running her hand thought her wild mane of hair.  “It’s so obvious .” She looked at him; Solas did not looked amused. She felt elated at having gotten something he had not intended. “ That’s exquisite. ”   

“ What will you do now? ” He repeated his question from before, confirming nothing. He looked over her shoulder at the others, giving her a moment to think.  

“ Nothing. ” She smiled at his surprised face. “ I will do nothing. But you better hope you get the orb before I do. ” She smirked. “ Because if you don’t. I will do everything in my power to keep it from you. ” He glared, face twisting with dark emotions as she continued. “ What are you so annoyed by? I’m a shell, a fragment. Surely, I will not get it first? And if I do, the great Elvhen should easily be able to take it from me. ” They glared at each other, the dislike and annoyance made known. She stuck out her tongue in a childish fashion, pleased to have gotten over at least a bit on the ancient being. As she watched The Inquisitor step into the Well and take a sip, she came to a conclusion that would likely result in her death, but would be fun either way.   

The Well exploded and everything seemed to happen at once. The Eluvian activated, Corypheus charged at them, and everyone but the Hero of Ferelden disappeared through it before the mirror was shattered. The group made their way back to Skyhold minus As’lana. Solas assumed she had died doing the same stupid stuff she was known for, until word reach them through Leliana’s raven.  

The Warden had come charging through the battle field, holding a strange green glowing object. She had been laughing hysterically, while screaming something in elven. Corypheus was right behind her, with his corrupted dragon flying overhead. She commandeered a mount and was last seen fleeing into the Wilds with the supposed Tevinter magister giving chase.   

Solas had barely contained his disbelief. She had actually gotten the foci away from Corypheus. He waited a few more days for news that she had been found dead, or that Corypheus had been seen with the Foci back in hand. Instead, he received a piece of Parchment from Leliana. It had been rolled with a report from As’lana letting the spymaster know she had escaped the Cory-whatever and was going into hiding for the time being. She requested Leliana give Solas the elven phrase on the parchment along with the report. His piece of parchment consisted of one phrase.  

Vis m’elana vena em   

“What does it say?” Leliana asked, eyes on the parchment. Solas distracted, grumbled the answer before thinking.  

“Catch me if you can.”  

Chapter Text

PART 2  

Fen’harel caught up to As’lana three years after she had spirited away his orb from mythal’s temple. He had sent spy after spy to seek her out. They were either unsuccessful or turned to her way of thinking. Eventually, and he was convinced it was because she was bored with outrunning him, he caught up to her. Well, Briala caught up to her and Fen’harel merely tacked himself on to her success. He had debated sending an agent, but something stopped him. He wanted to confront her himself. If he was honest with himself, he knew there was no one else that stood a chance of success.  

He would never say their reintroduction was agreeable, though he would say he didn't try very hard. She had them, him and Briala's agents traipsing through a Forest near denerim. The Hero of Ferelden was a homebody after all. She loved her people. He could respect that, no matter how little he thought of them himself.  

He wasn’t surprised when they lost her and had to set up camp. The elf warden had been avoiding him for years and he doubted very much at that moment that he would ever catch her.   

“Pssst.” The voice was soft and hummed like a breeze through stone. He glanced toward it, no one else having heard. There she was. The woman he had been chasing. Her eyes bright with the mirth he had come to know from the brief interactions he had with her at Skyhold. For someone responsible for saving the world and corrupting their blood, she certainly laughed a great deal. He stood slowly as she gestured for him to follow. He wasn’t weak anymore after absorbing what was left of Mythal’s power. However, he would not be outmaneuvered by a being asundered. She may have gotten one over on him before, but not again.  

As’lana smiled at him like they were old friends as he approached her in a clearing, leaving behind Briala’s spies. She answered his unasked question with a shrug of her shoulders and a laugh. She claimed to have traded away his orb for mead and a roll with a very fetching barmaid.  

He didn’t believe her, but that didn’t mean she changed her story.   

She watched him silently with a soft smile and bright eyes. He couldn’t help the respect he felt for the creature. She would have been a fright to behold had she been born in another time. Not many could avoid the grip of a Dreamer such as he. Her eyes darkened, and he felt his magic just under his skin in preparation for an attack that never came.  

“Dread wolf then? Or do you still pretend to be Solas?”  

“I am Solas.” She hummed in response, shifting from foot to foot. He wanted to kill her. Respect he may have, but she was an arrow poised to be loosened into his plans. He couldn’t risk what may come if she continued to prove herself. “Where is my orb?” She gave him that smirk of a smile. Like a mabari who stole its master's dinner.    

“I don’t have an orb belonging to Solas.” She stretched his name in mockery of it. His magic reacted to his rage. If she had been anyone else, this would have been her end, but like before she was nothing if not resilient. She would’ve had to be to achieve what she did. War torn countries don’t rise to end a Blight. Her body reacted unnaturally in this world, quicker than the lightning he let loose. Maybe he should have tried turning her to stone as he did the Qunari who continued to hound him. She landed just at the edge of the clearing, eyeing him with curious distaste.  

“I have little patience left for you.” His leveled his voice. He didn’t wish to lose the one connection he had to his missing orb. However, he refused to play a game he had even the slightest chance of losing.  

“And here I thought we were friends.” She didn’t move; her eyes dark with the intensity of her thoughts. “Don’t you want to be friends, Solas.” She stretched more than his name this time. Giving mockery to the idea while drawing attention to it. He couldn’t understand her. He wondered if this was but a game. Something to play as her body and mind decayed to the corruption she readily took inside herself. He wondered if she had already been driven mad from it. Yet as he watched her body shift, her eyes burn, and the air around her grow as wild as she seemed, he knew she was far from it. She knew herself and this world like none he had known. She knew it better than he.  

He surprised himself with his examination of her. He knew he respected her, but he hadn’t realized how much so. If she had been, when he was, she would have been an ally against the tyrants he fought. She wouldn’t have let him asunder the world. Rather she would have offered another path. A path he couldn’t achieve alone. He was no warrior, but she was. Now she stood against him and it caused a shiver to crawl up his spine, so much different from the forces of the evanuris. Men and women who thought themselves gods were easy to understand. They always overestimated themselves and underestimated their enemies. One such as she would be harder to pin down. She knows too much and accepts too little. A rebellious fire he would have once loved to stoke. She would have burned the evanuris to the ground once upon a time. But alas that time was gone, and to bring it about again he would have to smother her flame.  

“Surely you see this world is beyond salvation.” Solas was once again surprised at himself. He didn’t want to destroy her spirit. It was such a rare and beautiful thing. She angered and annoyed him. Yet even as she stood against him now, he wanted to turn her to his way of thinking. To make her understand how much better it could be. Her skin did not need the scars of humans’ abuse. She would never need to be thought of as less than.   

It was foolish.   

He knew it; the moment he opened his mouth, the sneer of contempt and dislike was painted on her face as clearly as murals upon the wall. He had let himself forget that this place, as corrupt and broken as it was, was her world. She knew nothing of elvhenan. Of the beauty of the world of elves. Of immortality that allowed endless exploration and thought. Choirs of their people singing songs that would echo for ages, longer than humans have existed. When they shared the world with no one else. Dwarves stayed underground where they belonged, and the sky and the surface belonged to the elves. They answered to none but themselves.  

“You claim this world beyond saving.” Her voice was cold as steel, and Solas knew this day would see them as enemies. “But from the glimpses left of Elvhenan, it was no better than Tevinter. After all, elves taught them how to be monsters.” He couldn’t help the roar of rage that left his throat.   

How dare she.  

He lashed out at her with his magic, forsaking his one known connection to the orb. He’s find it eventually. It was his. She shifted out of the way dancing through the lightning as wind. He didn’t give himself a moment to admire the beauty. If he continued to give her more thought, he feared she would change his heart. And this world needed to come to an end. He knew it.  

Their fight was short. She was a better fighter than he, however he was far too powerful for her to take alone. He allowed himself to touch her, wrapping his hand around her throat and pinning her to a tree. He pressed his magic forward, grazing her spirit curiously. It was torn from the corruption and the hard life she had lived. He mourned her. He could not imagine how great a force she would have been, had she been born whole and allowed to remain so.  

She glared at him as her armored hands dug into his wrist. Normally he would have pulled away and pinned her with his magic instead. But there was something about her that demanded more than the detached attitude he usually portrayed. She had his full attention as her face twisted in emotion. Her green eyes burned into him, turning his gut with guilt. He didn’t want to destroy another world, and certainly not one that brought such fiery spirits into being. Her face was half covered in blood from where he had managed to strike her upon the head. It was deeper red than normal blood. A hollow sign of her corruption. He used magic to make sure it didn’t touch him.  

“Where is my orb?” He didn’t raise his voice even as her mouth curved up in a smile bordering on demented. Her hair danced in the wind of his magic as a physical representation of her spirit. He took a breath. It was far too late to stop now. They had chosen sides, and there was nothing but death to await each of them.  

“Sandal.” He blinked at her answer. It wasn’t what he expected nor anything he understood.  

“Sandal?” He jerked back as she bit into his palm hard. She couldn’t draw blood since his magic protected him. But he felt it. He had barely recovered, reaching for her as she scrambled away. That was when he felt it, an echo of power he had not felt the true might of since before the rise of Elvhenan. The earth shook and for a moment he feared he’d fall into its depths. Instead, a fissure opened between them almost by design. He stumbled backward as it widened separating them. The space was a distance he could never cross without wings. The wind had died down and his magic settled in his gut ready to be unleashed again. He gazed out at her form, gazing back at him with defiance. He swallowed down the emotion swelling up from his chest. He was proud of her. This being that was not even connected to the fade. A tranquil by his standards. Yet she continued to remain out of his reach.  

She watched him while taking in deep breaths. She was shaking with the effort to stand, and he stared at the darkening mark around her neck from his grip. He wished he had used magic instead. At least then he would not have to see his violence, turning her skin purple.  

“Catch me if you can.” He gasped at her words and held out his arms as if he could catch her as she leapt from the cliff. For a moment he thought she might grow wings and into enter his arms. He had been surprised plenty of times before when she was involved. She didn’t. There was no way she would come to him. Not now or ever. She was as set against him as he was against her. He watched in fascination as she watched him with clear eyes of defiance. The sight of her falling into the abyss of the earth would be burned into his mind forever. He gazed down into the black and knew he would never retrieve the orb from her. He would have to make other plans.  

As’lana gasped as she pulled herself free from the water. She had trusted her gut and jumped. The blue stone Sandal had given her hummed against her chest. What it was, she never knew, but it served her purpose. She looked up at the voices approaching, unable to make out the words with her popped ears. She fell to far too fast to stay clear headed.   

“Commander.” Nathaniel Howe helped her to her feet. “I never thought your outrageous plan would work, but here we are.”  

“I had to know…” She swallowed. “I had to know if he could be turned away from his path. Valor asked…” Nathaniel scoffed but said nothing further. Her Spirit guide had a soft spot for the elven god. She didn’t know why, and when asked, Valor would not say. “Is everything in place?” She looked around at the people slowly gathering around her.   

“Yes Commander. Every Grey Warden left in Orlais and Ferelden are at your command.” He crossed his arms. “The rest to follow I’m certain.” She nodded.   

“Sandal?”   

“Took that orb into the deep. Now everything is shaking.” Nathaniel was uncomfortable.  

“He awakened a Titan.” He nodded at her words as if he understood it. She gripped her necklace as the hum grew louder. It was all coming together. She turned to the Grey Wardens around her. They all carried supplies. They were told this would be a one way trip.  

“Brothers and Sisters.” She stood as straight as she could. “Our burden will not be passed on to the future children as it was handed to us.” Every eye was upon her. “We will slaughter every darkspawn and remove the threat of the Archdemons.” The earth seemed to rumble in agreement. She could explain everything but she knew this would be the end. The Titan would chase the Darkspawn into set locations and they would spend the rest of their lives clearing the Deep Roads. Solas’s Orb had changed the world but not in the way he intended. Sandal had taken it deep and restore the Pillars of the Earth. With the Titans help, they could clear the Deep Roads, find the Old Gods and deal with them. She wasn’t sure how, just yet, but it would come to her eventually. It always did.  

“The Nightingale got your letters.” She was surprised to see Jowan. He had joined the Wardens a few years after the Blight ended. Tired of running from the Chantry. “She had a few choice words.”  

“But she’ll deliver them?” As’lana wanted to warn the surface. Darkspawn would likely move upward as they cut their way through them.  

“Course.” The group had filled the space now, with men and women bled into the halls. All dressed in blues and silvers of their Order. Leliana would see the letters sent to the leaders of the world and the leaders of the Grey Wardens. It was all coming together, and she would eventually be out of every reach. After all, “In Peace, Vigilance, in War, Victory, in Death, Sacrifice.” None of the Grey Wardens would likely see the sun again.  

Somewhere in Orlais  

Celene leaded against the desk in her rooms, a letter of poor-quality parchment gripped in her hands. She thought with the death of Gaspard she was done with war. At least for a few years, but no. If this parchment spoke truth, the worst was yet to come. They would bleed for the children of the future.  

“Love?” Briala joined her. They had started their love affair after the Inquisitor gave Celene the throne uncontested. Celene handed her the letter, unable to speak the words to describe its contents.   

 I have set into motion a long and painful path ahead. The Grey Wardens will take to the Deep Roads to end the Darkspawn in our lifetime. There will be blood and suffering unlike anything seen, even in a Blight. But I swear to you once it is done, our world will never be the same. Have faith in us Thedas, as you always have. And prepare for those that flee from us to seek refuse on the surface. The Darkspawn will come, and this time, for now, you are on your own.   

From Grey Warden Commander As’lana Tabris...  

A long series of titles followed that Briala had sense enough to skip over. Everyone knew the many titles the Warden possessed.  

“What does she mean to do?” Briala looked to her lover. She had spies tracking the Warden but she was far more slippery than Briala thought was possible. Empress Celene looked pensive and took a moment to reply.  

“I do not know. But I hope we live to see the outcome. For if she succeeds, Thedas will never be the same.”  

The end