Chapter Text
9:55 Dragon.
Ruins of Minrathous
The screams of the dying echoed through the burning remnants of the ruins of Minrathous city once again, though this time, Solas was not entirely responsible for the causation.
They had come without warning, without mercy, and had taken Thedas by storm for its people had been greatly weakened in number thanks to the calamity of the Veil being torn asunder. The few that had survived didn't stand a chance against this new, yet ancient, enemy that now wielded the Titan’s blighted dreams with more horror than Ghilan’nain ever could have dreamed – The Executors .
All because Solas had not foreseen the dangers bringing down the Veil would incur. In his desperation to right his many wrongs, the Dread Wolf had not understood that it was his actions in forming the Veil that had stopped the invaders from across the sea from coming eons ago. Now, free to access the Fade and the Blight, they laid siege to the already broken streets below the centre of the once mighty Tevinter Imperium, the Archon’s Palace, where the mortals made their last stand.
Still, he had a plan.
“The others should be here by now.” Dorian grunted as he flexed his injured shoulder, the lines upon his aged face standing starker these past few months since the loss of his beloved Maxwell Trevelyan, Inquisitor, and once, Solas’s friend.
“She will make it. She has to.” Solas swallowed thickly; his mind focused entirely on the one woman who he now rested his hopes for salvation upon. The only woman who could succeed where all others would fail.
“I still don't agree with this Solas. She should have been told the plan from the start.” Dorian shook his head, a strand of greying hair falling against his soot-stained brow, his grey-blue eyes glaring disapproval that Solas could do without in their final hours.
“Do you really think she would have agreed had she known what we intend to do?” Solas snapped, violet eyes flashing momentarily with that age old anger he held within.
“What makes you think Rook will agree to it now?” Dorian pushed back, incredulous. It was always the same with Solas, all pride and little consideration of others.
“Agree to what?” an achingly familiar voice sounded from behind them. Whipping round, Solas and Dorian beheld the bloodied Ashara Mercar, Rook, as Varric had named her, in all her wildness. Hair so pale it was almost the colour of snow was pulled back haphazardly from her angular face in a long braid down her back, stark in contrast to her tanned skin that still held the vibrancy of her youth despite the carnage of the last four years. A face that was currently filled with shock as her mismatched eyes of pale lavender blue and evergreen fell upon the Dread Wolf.
Behind her were her closest confidants, Emmrich and his husband Strife, looking weathered and worn. They both watched Solas with wary eyes as they realised who Dorian had asked them here to assist in saving the world.
“ You!” Ashara snarled, her mismatched eyes blazing with sheer fury before she lunged towards Solas, spellblade drawn and ready to carve his heart out.
Jumping in between, Dorian grabbed the smaller Ashara and pulled her against his chest, his strong arms holding the struggling human woman in a tight grip lest she break free and doom them all. Though, upon seeing the pain on her face, Solas was tempted to let her because he could not bear to see it. Not after all that they had shared when they had been bound with blood magic and forced to share their dreams, and yet, despite the fledgling feelings of care and to his shock, desire, he had still betrayed her.
“We need him, Ashara!” Dorian battled over Ashara’s growls, when suddenly shouting could be heard from the entrance they had all come through. Pushing free from her fellow Tevinter, Ashara raised a magical barrier around them all, Solas included, and sparked lightning across her spellblade, the power of which brushed against Solas’ magic, like calling to like.
“The door!” another familiar voice roared as Taash skirted around the corner, Antoine and Lucanis on their heels. “Get the fucking door!”
Breaking into action, everyone rushed for the large double doors and heaved them shut, just in time for the shadows to rapidly rush the entrance only to bash against enchanted steel that now kept them at bay. Sliding the large bolts in place, Taash unleashed their Adaari flame upon the hinges to seal them in place, though they all knew it would not be enough.
“Where are the others? Davrin? Neve? Evka?” Ashara panted as she slid back from the door, her eyes darting amongst her remaining companions who dared not meet her gaze. Tears welled then, and Solas had to look away.
“No,” Ashara shook her head. “We have to go back for-”
“Not now,” Lucanis cut her off, his voice monotone with that of detachment. “Those doors won't hold forever and we have a contract to complete.”
“We got here as you asked. What now, Dorian?” Antoine spoke up next, accent clipping oddly, his dark blue eyes rimmed with the Blight.
“Now, we undo everything,” Dorian answered as he began to move further into the Archon’s broken palace.
“How?” Strife demanded, his hand coming to clamp on Ashara’s shoulder to force her to follow for she remained fixated on the door that was now rattling with their enemy's onslaught.
“The only way we survive now is if the events that lead to this day never happen,” Solas attempted to explain as he followed Dorian only to be pulled to a stop by Ashara whose eyes burned into his soul, a mere few inches below his own.
“You mean the events that you made happen!” Ashara accused, her thick brows furrowing and catching on the slight scar on her brow that had not been there when they had first met in the Fade four long years ago.
“Yes,” Solas lamented, his violet eyes never leaving hers as he tried to convey his remorse at the turn of events that led to her anger.
“You can't be serious, Dorian,” Ashara shook her head in disbelief and a dash of fear. “He can't be trusted!”
“Ashara-” Solas attempted to soothe as his hand reached for her face of its own accord, only to be slapped away.
“You don't get to call me that!” Ashara almost cried as she stepped back from Solas’s reach, the memory of their last battle together on the streets of Minrathous striking him when she had accused him of forming the bonds of friendship to ripen her for his prison of regrets. “You lost the privilege when you drove a blade into my gut in thanks for cleaning up your mess! And here we are, doing it again because you tore down the Veil and allowed those, whatever they are , full access to the Blight!”
“I couldn't have known-”
“Story of your fucking life. You don't think and the world burns!”
“We don't have time for this!” Dorian stormed as he pushed a blast of air between Solas and Ashara, forcing them apart before he lifted his hands and removed a glowing cube-like pendant that throbbed with powerful magic from around his neck.
“Is that what I think it is?!” Emmrich gasped, his hand reaching out towards Ashara to pull her back towards himself and Strife.
“I remade the foci that Magister Alexius used to manipulate time,” Dorian explained with a grim smile of determination. “With Solas's magic we can cast someone back far enough that they could reach him a few years before he awakens to this world, find Felassan and-”
“That’s how you intend to save us?” Lucanis scoffed. “By waking the Dread Wolf from his slumber and asking him nicely to not go through with his careful plans to destroy the world?! That Solas is even more our enemy than the one standing before us now!”
“Never mind that! If Solas is powering the ritual, then who is going through time itself? That journey will kill any mortal, you know this Dorian. You and the Inquisitor nearly died from the side effects following a one-year journey into Redcliffe's future, never mind a near sixteen year one. None other than Solas could survive it,” Emmrich ranted, his fear of passing from this world as prevalent as ever, for himself, and those he cared for.
“That isn't entirely true,” Solas chose then to interrupt, his violet eyes fixed on Ashara who swallowed nervously under his purposeful gaze.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she challenged, never one to back down even when afraid, and from the look in her elf-like eyes, she was very much afraid.
“Surely you have felt it?” Solas probed gently as he moved before her, his magic pushing against her own and soaring at the response it gave back unwittingly. “The growing power within you? The way the Blight reacts to you? Your dreams? Can you not feel the strength you still hold years later despite the stress of the Veil collapsing and war caused by the invaders from across the sea taking a toll on your body?”
“I... I...” Ashara stammered, brow furrowing because even after he had healed her and left her to find her own way to survive, she had always found Solas in her dreams, the two more often than not simply staring at each other in apprehension. Never speaking, but always connected, no matter how far away she ran from him.
“When I wielded the dagger against you and pierced your flesh,” Solas cringed at the way Ashara flinched at his words; “The lyrium of my dagger bonded itself to your blood, filling you with potential, and since you're an elf-blooded human-”
“Rook’s elven ancestry took from the pure lyrium as the ancient elves did and made her like you,” Emmrich concluded for him as he came to stand behind his friend whom he had come to think of like a daughter in these turbulent times. “Or as close as a human could be. You mean to send her back through time to stop this.”
“Yes, and we must do so now,” Solas stressed as the banging suddenly grew louder in the halls behind them, causing all to look back in alarm.
“Hold on just a damn minute!” Ashara snapped as she was pushed ahead by Strife who took point behind Solas and Dorian. “How am I meant to stop this?! I didn't even stop you from tearing down the Veil! What in that idiot head of yours makes you think I would do better the second time ‘round?”
“Because for a moment, before I tore down the Veil, when I saw the pleading in your eyes as you lay there bleeding out, I almost stopped. I wanted to stop,” Solas answered honestly. “No one else ever came that close, not Mythal, not the Inquisitor and not Felassan. Given more time, you will change my mind. Of that, I am certain.”
“So that’s why you saved me that day? Because I made you feel bad?!” Ashara frowned deeply, head shaking once again in disbelief which Solas could not blame her for. Afterall, he had given her no reason to hold faith in him.
“I saved you because despite what you might think, I didn't want to fight you, nor did I wish you death or harm. Quite the opposite, actually. I wanted to...” Solas trailed off as they made it to the antechamber of the throne room. “It does not matter now. What does is that you go before it's too late.”
“Okay. So where do we do this?” Taash asked, ready to get down to business, as was Antoine who notched an arrow in his bow.
“The throne room is a convergence of powerful magic, being where Solas destroyed the world and all,” Dorian sassed as he moved into the remnants of Ashara’s battle with Elgar’nan. As were the petrified remains of Bellara Lutare and the blight tendril she commanded, much to Ashara’s horror. They never did have time to return for her remains to bury her with her brother.
Another thing Solas had taken from her.
“Yes. This place will act as an amplifier, or at least it will in theory.” Solas nodded as he came to the centre of the room and began casting a set of runes to contain their ritual.
“Wonderful,” Lucanis muttered to himself as he drew his blades once again. “Theoretical magic. Just what we all wanted to hear as the world hangs in the balance.”
“The rest of you will need to stall for as much time as you can give us,” Dorian stated with great reluctance, his face resigned to that of certain death of not just himself, but all aside from Ashara.
“Wait- What? No!” Ashara rebelled as she moved to block the others who immediately moved towards the entrance of the throne room to secure the doors.
“You heard what the bastard said, Rook. The only way we live is if this never happens.” Lucanis smiled ruefully as he patted her arm in passing before spinning to walk backwards with a sinister flashing of purple eyes promising his enemies a fight. “So, go, and while you're at it, maybe save us some heartache along the way, yes?”
“If I succeed, we will never meet.” Ashara mourned as she tried to pry her friends back towards her only to be gently pushed aside, grim determination on all of their faces. “None of us will come together. We will be less than strangers...”
“Somehow, I doubt that even the currents of time could keep us from standing together when the need arises. Regardless of success, the Executors will come, we know this. This way it will be on more even terms.” Emmrich smiled softly as he came to stand before Ashara and tilted her chin up to face him.
“Emmrich is right, Rook, don't count us out yet,” Strife added from Emmrich’s side, brown eyes soft as he beheld her tears.
“We’re really doing this.” Ashara sniffed in acceptance as power began to swirl behind her, her hands grasping onto Emmrich's and gripping tightly before letting go and stepping back. “I will find you. All of you. I won't rest until the world is saved.”
“Of that I have no doubt, my dear.” Emmrich gave his parting farewell, Strife's hand finding his husband’s shoulder as they exited the throne room with Lucanis.
“Kick ass, Rook,” Taash added, their twin axes already swinging in preparation as they too moved forward, eyes dead ahead. They never were one for big goodbyes.
“What did the Shadow Dragons say to each other?” Antoine paused momentarily, the Blight casting a sickly hue to his normally rosy complexion. “Bring the light?”
“Bring the light,” Ashara whispered back in confirmation. “For Evka. For everyone .”
Nodding, Antoine left the throne room and closed the doors behind him with the help of Taash, who must have sealed the metal as before if the fiery heat emanating from the door’s seals were any indicator, leaving Ashara to face the unknown alone.
They were meant to be the Veilguard, and when they had failed to stop Solas they had tried to shepherd the survivors to safe havens. For a time, they had been successful in protecting innocents from the demons that poured into the world. That was until a new enemy arrived from across the sea.
No one knew what they truly were, even Solas in all his wisdom and knowledge could not understand how they cut through his enchantments and unleashed the Blight in its entirety. Nor could he fathom how they wielded it with such purpose. Even the Evanuris in all their terrible glory had not been able to achieve the feats of corruption they had unleashed.
Thousands had screamed. Thousands had died. Even now as Ashara moved toward the two mages working frantically in the centre of the throne room, she could hear them, or maybe that was the battle cries that had begun outside the door as the first barrier fell between the monsters and her friends
“Stand there and don't move an inch!” Dorian commanded, his brow sweating as he began chanting in old Tevene, hand splayed wide as the maelstrom of magic now swirling around Ashara began to take on the sickly green of the Fade.
Passing through it, Solas, eyes blazing with the power of gods, stood before Ashara, his hand coming to rest against her trembling shoulder. “You will have to be patient with me. The last thing I will remember from the waking world was the forming of the Veil. I will be in pain, and ultimately lost.”
“You’ve always been lost Solas, from the moment Mythal pulled you from the Fade. You have wandered this world like a man blind,” Ashara spoke softly as she met his eyes. Once she had found comfort in them, in him , not only a guiding hand against the Blighted elven gods but a friend. Looking at him now, she was only reminded of the sting of his blade as he had driven it home within her.
“Then find me, lethallan, and restore my sight by doing what you do best,” Solas pressed, his hand moving to cup her jaw.
“And what's that?” Ashara laughed humorlessly. She had failed at everything she had tried.
“Finding the straightest path to your goal. Just like a Rook.” Solas smiled softly, thumb brushing against her jawline with almost reverence.
Ashara’s heart betrayed her as it beat in double time within her chest. What was he doing? How was he able to still affect her in this way? She moved to shove his hand from her face when a lancing pain ripped through her chest and almost knocked her to her knees.
“Ashara?” Solas cried out as he caught her from hitting the floor, panic rippling across his face.
“It feels like I'm being pulled apart,” Ashara panted out as another wave of pain spread across her limbs in diverging directions.
“Dorian?” Solas called out in confusion, his glowing gaze never leaving her face as a scream tore from her throat.
“That's normal, I think. It's what I felt when Max and I were sent forward at Redcliffe. Time to move out the way Dread Wolf, and give it some umph ,” Dorian shouted over the whooshing of magic that was picking up tremendous speed around Ashara and Solas. Below her, she could swear she could see the faint outline of trees forming.
“That's reassuring,” Ashara whimpered sarcastically against the pain as her feet began to pass through the stone of the floor, the tugging sensation pulling her downwards and through.
“You can do this, Da’assan .” Solas promised before placing his brow on hers and whispering something that Ashara could not hear against the whirring of power that was now whipping around her.
“They are breaking through the door!” Dorian shouted in warning. Jumping back, Solas abandoned Ashara to the currents of time before crying out with all his might and throwing all the power he had behind the ritual just as the metal doors gave way to the chilling shrieking that haunted Ashara’s nightmares.
They were here.
“Now, Dorian!” Solas ordered, tearing Ashara’s world apart as her entire being was ripped through the fabric of time and space. Whole but shattered, free but captured, scattered but found, all she embodied, as she free fell through the Fade, hands desperately attempting to find purchase to save her, yet she found none.
“Dareth shiral, ma vhe-” a voice vaguely like Solas’s passed her by as she fell, for seconds or years she could not tell, for nothing made sense anymore, nothing but that pulling feeling that was tearing her apart. That was until a sudden bright light blinded her eyes, and the strange sensation of cold crunching wetness shocked her into taking a deep rattling breath.
She did not know how she knew, but she was no longer falling. The feeling of being ripped apart from oneself easing, slowly but surely however it was replaced by a cold darkness, almost like a void. That didn't mean she hurt any less, because she absolutely did, especially to the back of her head.
Had she struck it? It felt like she had. Is that why she could not see? No, that was because she hadn't opened her eyes yet. Why was it so hard to open her eyes? Why did she feel compelled to slip into the void and follow it into nothingness?
She had to open her eyes!
Groaning against the pain, Ashara forced her eyes open, tears instantly streaming against the clear blue skies above her. When was the last time she had seen such colour? Before Elgar’nan had forced the eclipse upon them? Could it have been that long?
Crunching suddenly sounded to Ashara’s left, and screaming against the pain, the young woman heaved herself into a sitting position and forced back the bile that threatened to tear its way up her throat as she beheld the endless mountains of snow and the very startled looking human man.
“You alright, lass?” the man called out to her as he approached her slowly, his brown unblighted eyes wary of her and his weathered face full and healthy. It had been so long since she had seen someone not of her inner circle not tainted or corrupted in one form or another.
Could it really have worked?
“Where am I? What year is it?!” Ashara demanded as she attempted to stand only to fall forward in the snow and heave up the meagre contents of her stomach, her head throbbing with every beat of her heart.
“What year is it?” the man asked incredulously as he moved toward her and placed a gloved hand on her armoured shoulder. “I think you’ve gone and conked your head good and proper there. Let me get you down into the valley and Adan can look at you-”
“Please, answer me!” Ashara pleaded as she tried to rise once again, only to fall into the man’s outstretched arms, her vision darkening around the edges. “I need... I need...”
“Woah, settle down,” the man warned as he took the brunt of her weight and slung her arm over his shoulder. “I've got you. It's the year 9:40 Dragon, and this is the valley leading to the village of Haven on the border of the Ferelden Frostbacks and Orlais.”
9:40? That wasn't right. She was meant to go back to before Solas woke from uthenera. He was already awake and scheming in 9:40. In fact, that was the year he killed Felassan, another ancient elf Dorian wanted her to find. There was something else... 9:40 Dragon was the year that the southern mages rebelled and the Templars broke from the southern Chantry. If that mess was happening now, then in a years' time...
“Well, shit ,” Ashara grumbled as she slumped forward into oblivion's embrace.