The buzzing came from somewhere above her.
Ellana opened her eyes slowly, taking in the bright pale pink of the passing through the long frilled curtains.
It painted her wallpaper a pastel purple and made her blankets look like seafoam.
Orlais.
She yawned, her hand rising past the intricate carved headboard to snatch her phone from its rattling surface.
Her screen greeted her happily, and the name made her legs draw up into her stomach with giddiness.
Incoming Call...
F.H. 7:46am
This time, there wasn't any hesitation as she drew the phone to her ear after answering.
"Vhenan?"
It was quiet, a quick drawn breath the only reply.
She waited, working her mouth of sleep. She listened to his breath and the sound of the curtains wafting against the thick carpet almost like they were one in the same.
"Ha-
"Forgive me. I suppose I am not used to the endearment yet. At least not the vocal version of it."
"Mmmm." She smiled, sinking further into the sheets with the accompaniment of his voice.
"Is it too early to call you?"
"Not really." She answered, resisting another yawn.
"But you were in fact sleeping."
"Yes, but I'm not going complain about you waking me up." She smiled.
"Ah—" she could almost hear his grin. "That is the tone I was hoping for. I wanted to fill my mind with your voice this morning. This may be my only time to speak with you today and I hoped it would be full of your languid teases and wicked chuckling."
Ellana's toes curled.
"Do you have any plans today?" He continued.
"I don't have to be anywhere today until noon."
"Oh? Sightseeing tour?" He was shuffling something near the phone.
"I wish." She groaned. "Today is my event. Thing. For my clan."
"You do not have to explain if you do not want to."
"I don't." She agreed, frowning at the idea of the Winter Palace.
She had an appointment with Ambassador Briala at noon at the Halamshiral governmental offices. She had stopped by the building the day before after her flight during her little adventures around the city. It was huge.
Afterwards it was back to the hotel for a shower to start getting ready for the Ceremony and dinner tonight.
It was all today.
"To be honest I'd rather just ditch it and tag along with whatever you're doing."
"I do not believe we are in the same city." He answered simply.
"Oh yeah. Probably not."
She hadn't through of that. He was probably in Val Royeaux, not Halamshiral.
"And aside from simple geography, I do not think you would enjoy my work today either."
She was quiet, listening to him rustling. Getting dressed? Doing his hair? "I would just enjoy your company emma lath."
Her whispered response made the noise stop.
She felt her face flush at her slip. Too much. Way too much.
Still, she called him Vhenan! Emma lath was not so far from the term. Was it?
It was just a little closer to.... Well...
Ar lath ma.
Ellana swallowed, sitting up suddenly, the bed crumpling about her. She fought to ignore the phrase completely.
"W-What are you doing here anyway? Some teacher conference or college field trip? One of the abroad programs for A-list students? Or is this something with your scientific art stuff."
"A bit of both, but I would play hooky for some sightseeing with you if I had my choice as well." He chuckled. "You did some touring yesterday it seemed? Enjoy what you saw?"
"It's very different. The streets are wider and cleaner. But it almost seems too big in scale. Every building looks like a palace. Even the post office. Or I think it was a post office. There are no bilingual signs here. It's all just Orlesian."
"They do not cater to foreigners, no." He agreed. "Do you not know Orlesian?"
"No!" Ellana laughed. "Well, no... I know Merci, S'il vous plait... and Arrêtez." She frowned as she spoke the words before scratching her head, trying to remember Leliana's short lessons. "A friend taught me 'tiens-moi nu courent' or wait—"
"Tiens-moi au courant." He corrected.
"Oh is that—"
"Votre prononciation n'est pas mauvais, ma vhenan. Eman solas i'mar eol."
The twisting lyrics of his words from Orlesian into Elvhen were so effortless and rapid it took her breath away.
It had felt like hot water flowing against her skin and had sounded like the hissing kiss of steam.
"Ah... wow... you'll have to run that by me again professor." She breathed. "Slower. And deeper."
His laugh reverberated through her chest, like he was beside her, vibrating his mirth and heat into her skin with his voice.
"Even the Elvhen, da'len?"
"No—no I got that, but the Orlesian. Are you fluent?"
"Non seulement en Orlésien. Une seule langue n'est jamais suffisante."
She heaved a breath, closing her eyes. Not that Orlesian was her favorite language, but his voice had already been something that made her body ache. To hear it slither through the rapid language was almost too much to bear.
"Was that something inappropriate?"
"Not at all." He paused, and then spoke again, this time with a slow intention she knew had to be naughty. "Je veux te lécher des hanches jusqu'aux pieds. Now that was inappropriate."
Ellana shivered. "Are you going to tell me what you said?"
"Ir'tel'din." He denied. "And I would much rather seduce you in our own people's language."
Ellana felt something soften inside her at his use of 'our.' It stood out more than his suggestion.
It was maybe the first time he had referred to their heritage as something they shared.
"Oh?"
"Of course. Isala'gara'seia'vallas ma vhenan."
The heat of the sentence had Ellana's free hand gripping the fabric of her shirt at her breast. Her face flushed as she pieced together her vocabulary.
"Seia? Seia'vall—Ha-Hahren!!" She accused loudly.
"Ah! Ir abelas! I—" Her professor stumbled over his words, and she heard something clatter on his end of the line. "I did not think you would know—"
"I mean it took me a second—!"
"I thought that would be too advanced—forgive me. Now I am the one embarrassed by my own words."
"Are they..." She swallowed, but couldn't stop herself from grinning. "True?"
"Ellana." He said simply.
She laughed this time. There was so much frustration and reservation in that one word that it was almost ridiculous.
"Alright, alright."
"I should go soon, there's a car downstairs for me."
"Oooh a car—professor you—"
"No. Hush." He chided, but chuckled. "I will not be made fun of for calling for a towncar when you have a honeymoon sweet all to yourself."
Ellana paused at the word honeymoon, but said nothing.
He grew quiet too.
"I can only imagine you in that bed."
Her smile drifted along with his words.
"You could... come back to bed and imagine with me right now."
"Ah..."
"It's probably still warm."
"Vhenan...I can't."
"Nasvaraanan na."
He made a noise, a soft broken noise gone as quickly as he made it. Ellana bit her lip.
"Satha." He sighed. "You impress me as much as you break my heart, knowing that much of our language."
"Just go to work already then." She urged.
"Now that I have permission."
"Professor—"
"Ah—I am going. But I might... call you later tonight? If you are free?"
She thought about that.
"I would like that. Though I might not be done until late."
"Neither will I."
"Then it's a date."
"Indeed."
Solas left his hotel room in a mood like contained fire. Warm and excited.
Orlais was never his favorite place to visit. And Halamshiral itself left something rotten in his mouth whenever he thought of it. And despite exciting challenges the Winter Palace was sure to bring that night, he could not help his desire to return to Ferelden as soon as it was over.
But now he lingered at the window before his elevator, staring at the city with a new fondness.
He thought of what little restaurants or cafes he would take Ellana to, if he could.
'Could' being the word that made him frown.
He was in Halamshiral after all. Ellana was most likely Val Royeaux. Most Dalish affairs were settled in the capital, where there was a bureau to register them.
As odd as it was that they were both in Orlais, they were most likely farther apart now than when they were both at home.
Solas rode the elevator in relative silence, trying to hang onto what he could of his phone conversation before he was forced to face his actual reason for being in the city.
The elevator dinged to the lobby.
"Well, well. Fen'harel?"
His face fell.
That happened faster than he had expected.
"Morrigan."
The woman was standing curtly in a sharp suit in front of the lobby. She was a dark pillar of maroon and black that broke the gold and white of the ornate hotel with a suddenness he had not been ready for.
It was much too early for this.
"And here I thought it would not be until tonight that I got to see your familiar mask."
Solas stepped out of the elevator.
"I would appreciate some discretion on your part if you expect any on mine." He scolded, rounding her form as she stuck out her arm to force the elevator to stay open. "Especially if you insist on spending your time stalking my presence."
"Do not flatter yourself, Solas." She said his name with raised brow, as if she were testing the realness of it. "I'm not at this hotel for you, I'm here for Empress Celene's much more honored guests. Ones in higher floors than those reserved for uncontracted journalists and archeologists."
"That reminds me, Morrigan." He asked, watching her step in and press the level button as she also pressed the 'close door' command. "Which uncontracted archeologist gets the Sabrae Eluvian now that it is theirs to keep?"
The golden metal doors closed on her cold glare.
"Well, she remembered you at least."
Solas nearly turned into Merrill behind him as she spoke.
"Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to creep. I was about to call you when I crossed her coming from the gift shop!"
He steadied himself before his assistant, her arms full of bags.
"Shopping already?" He asked.
"I wanted to get something for Hawke and everyone! But I knew I would forget if I waited until the trip was over. So I figured I would do it first thing."
"The car should be out front already." He nodded. "Josephine called already from concierge. We will need to meet with her and head to the curation association if we want to—"
"Oh! Oh! Could you tell them to hold the car a few minutes? I'll drop off my bags and be down again—"
"Quickly now, Merrill." He hurried, pressing the button for on the silver plaque.
"I will! Oh this is so exciting! Maybe we can stop by a few clothes shops after the meeting before we go to the Winter Palace? I would love to buy some girly things for Isabella and—"
"One opened on the other side." Solas interrupted, pointing to the automatic doors down the line of elevators.
"I'll hurry! Thank you Solas, be back down soon!"
It was so amazing that she had not gotten lost in the city; it was almost inevitable that she could lost in the governmental building.
The Ambassador offices of Halamshiral (Department of Parliament Affairs) were a series of hallways absolutely covered in gilded filigree and naked statues of people.
Elves too, which was unsettling for more reasons than just seeing ones so similar on each corner that she got even more confused to her direction.
Ellana had gotten up early enough after her morning phone call that she had time to try out a fresh bakery and café, take a boat ride down the canal, and buy a magazine outside the parliament square before heading inside to meet with Briala for her meeting.
But now, at 11:36am, she was planning on being late.
She stared helplessly at the sign before her, the engraved Orlesian letters informing her nothing but the insistence of cedilla's in their alphabet.
She had already asked two people where exactly she was supposed to be heading, but both had waved her in opposing directions and staircases.
So with another two floors, she found herself more lost.
Ellana walked the length of the hall before turning around. She could head back to the square and start over.
She could call Briala here too. But calling her here with a lame "I'm lost in the hallway that has a painting of an Andraste" would be less than helpful.
There were a million of those.
"Excusez moi, Mademoiselle, les bureaux d'enrôlement pour la Garde des Ombres et le personnel militaire ne sont pas ouverts sur—"
Ellana shot p straight, twisting around to the voice clearly addressing her. The speed of the words made her eyes go wide, but the man paused when she turned.
"....overt pour—"
"I'm sorry." She began to shake her head.
"Oh."
He stood taller then, almost at an attention.
He was holding an envelope in his hand, one that he dropped to his side as he stared at her, his dark eyes frowning in an expression that made the beard on his face ruffle slightly against the heavy lapels of his jacket.
"Es-tu perdu?"
She shook her head again, raising her hands. "I'm sorry, Pardon, I don't work here. And I don't—"
"You're not Orlesian, are you my lady?"
Ellana stopped at that. A whole morning of Orlesian made the switch to tradespeak almost jarring. If relieving.
"No, no I'm not!" She laughed, a hand rubbing at her forehead as she considered the taller, broad man before her.
"I guess that much is obvious. Forgive me."
It wasn't said with snide. His brow creased almost at himself even if he was remarking on her Dalish face being the obvious thing.
"Are you here to enlist then?"
The question confused her completely.
"Enlist?"
His hand rose, leather gloves pointing at the hallway door behind her. "That's the office for military enlistment."
She turned before glaring. "No, oh Creators, I'm trying to find Ambassador Briala's office."
He laughed then, a hearty laugh that had Ellana unintentionally smiling back.
"Yes, that does seem more fitting." He chuckled. "Not that I do not doubt your ability in modern warfare my lady."
Ellana laughed, shaking her head. "Maybe next time."
"I can show you the way, you're a bit far off but you were headed in the right direction."
"That would be... so helpful."
He turned, shuffling aside to beckon her back down the hall. "It's on the north end, with the much bigger offices."
"Bigger than this? Can they really fit more paintings in these halls?"
He laughed again, his free hand fisting against his mouth and beard as if to stop the noise.
"I'm sorry, I've just—"
"One would think they would get tired of them, to be sure. But Orlesians love their things big just as much as Fereldens do. They just prefer lions over dogs."
Ellana smiled at him but shook her head. "I'm not Ferelden."
"I would not assume you anything but your own my lady. Aside from Dalish, but that is also a presumption these days."
"Ah—you don't have to call me lady."
He looked confused before he looked away abashedly, thick brows worrying in embarrassment. "Oh, an old habit. And an Orlesian one, sorry miss."
Ellana was surprised at how easy it was to read emotion on his face.
The man was big, but not like Bull. He was sturdy, like a soldier. Or maybe an older athlete. If she had not spoken to him she might have though he was mean looking from afar.
But his voice was kind and quiet instead of loud and brash. And his Orlesian had been finer than his common. Flowy.
"Are you here on business for your clan then? Or was that in fact, the wrong guess?"
"No you're right. I'm Dalish. I have an appointment with Briala about my clan. But I'm actually here on visit for the Masquerade."
"Oh?"
He looked back at her as they climbed some stairs she had not been across before.
"The Conference of Achievement?"
"Yeah—actually, why does it have so many different names?"
He huffed, the smile almost lost in the corners of his mouth. "They like writing the all the capital letters on paper."
"HA!"
"That or they hope that with all the different names, all the guests will get confused and show up to different places. That way they can be left alone to honor no one but themselves."
It was a biting sentence that felt more serious, but the truth made her laugh no less than before.
"Not a fan?"
"Not really. Doesn't stop you from getting invited though."
"Oh, are you going?" Ellana blinked, waiting as they paused in front of some double doors. He stepped in front to open them for her.
"I'm getting an award."
"Really?"
"Well... my men and their station crew are. I'm invited by honor to... stand and clap for them I suppose."
Ellana grinned at the stranger, his resignation obvious as they crossed into a larger hallway filled with bustling people.
"That sounds better than what I have to do. I think they want me to talk to people."
"I do not envy you my lad-madamoi—ah." His mouth shut and he looked at her as if expecting to get chided.
Ellana just smiled at him with raised brows.
"You've made it harder than it was before now. How about we introduce ourselves?"
"My name is Ellana. Ellana Lavellan." They stopped in the middle of the hallway.
"I'm Warden Blackwall."
Warden.
Ellana's hand was gripped by his leather glove as her eyes widened. A Warden. She had never met one before.
"Blackwall?"
"It's what everyone calls me anyway. Now—" He looked over her shoulder, his hand pointing again. "Beyond those doors at the end are the Ambassador's rooms. Check in with the receptionist there. They'll probably have you wait for another hour on their lousy couches, but you'll be where you need to. Briala is usually quick about things."
She twisted before looking back at him.
"Thank you, Warden."
"Blackwall is fine my lady, no need to make it more than a job."
"I'll make that deal if you don't call me lady again."
He laughed, making someone passing by stop and stare, but Ellana smiled. "Right, of course."
He waved her off, the smile on his face making his eyes warm.
"Thank you!"
"Good day, Ellana."
"They will know of your name as soon as you arrive on the carpets and the photographers will not relent to make sure everyone knows your face."
"I had figured as much. I only warn you that the Chantry knows both already. I'm sure they will be the first responders the day after."
"All the better for us then, Herald. Unless you don't see it fit. Your title will bolster our efforts with any judges or patrons but if you are not ready--"
"No. I'm prepared for it. I can't keep it a secret for longer anyway."
Ambassador Briala was an excellent speaker.
Shorter than Ellana had first thought, but her presence seemed to make up the rest of her stature. The woman had been direct from the start. As if they had known each other a long time or as if Ellana worked for the woman already, Briala had wasted no time in sharing every technicality she could cover and referred to her for new direction.
"I know that it is less than ideal for you to be in the public's eye. I can only promise that most of the discomfort will be at the beginning of the night only."
"You aren't expecting me to speak?"
"Speak, no. Comment, yes. If the media asks you for one, that is. "
Briala stood from her chair, sliding a folder of papers off her desk and into her hands.
"Then after the red carpet...?" Ellana asked, standing too as Briala came to meet her in front of the large desk.
"I will have other business to attend to throughout the night and you are free to enjoy dinner as you please."
The woman gave her a disarming smile that made Ellana feel surprisingly at ease. She had been nervous about the meeting for days. With her luck through the entire process, she had expected the Ambassador to be like most politicians she had met recently.
Instead Briala had welcomed her in Elvhen and supplied reassurances about their arrangement, the Conference, and her coming Appeal.
"I have some notes on disclosure. There are certain things I would like to keep out of the press until we are ready to release them. And your seat number is in here. I have you placed with a few other Fereldans from your museum."
"Oh, with Josephine—" When she handed Ellana the folder, Briala caught her fingers with her own.
"Ellana, one more thing."
They paused. A breath of air between them for the first moment since she had entered and they had poured over details.
This close, Ellana could see the odd quality of Briala's eyes and their near colorless appearance.
But there was something familiar in them she recognized.
"I cannot thank you enough for reaching out to me in this time. Your letter influenced more than just my campaign, but my own motivation to see our plights gain a voice."
Ellana shook her head.
"Ambassador, you're the one who answered my call for help. Not the other way around."
Briala let her hands go then, relinquishing the folder. "Only after I had given up reaching out to the clans settled in and out of the Dales. After months of searching for a partnership with the Dalish, your proposal for a sponsorship came like an answer to fate."
"But why would you be actively seeking a partnership with the people? We can't legally benefit your campaign. I thought your acceptance had more to do with my connection as Herald."
"I cannot deny that being supported indirectly by a Chantry officiate does help. The devoutly faithful will follow their word and therefore yours, knife-ear or not." Briala looked away for a moment to think before looking back at her. It was then that Ellana realized what she recognized on her face.
Pride. It was the same pride that her people wore like shields.
"But to have the Dalish speak alongside the voices of those from the cities... we are strong unified. And while our tradition is not shared our oppression is."
Her fingers curled harshly into the folder she held.
"But we can talk more of wistful beliefs when we have time. I will see you tonight on the carpet before the cameras."
"Of course."
Briala led her to her office doors, opening them into the small waiting room beyond.
"Thank you, Herald."
"Ma sarannas Ambassador."
They waved and Ellana quietly left the Ambassador's seating area while a fierce determination started bubbling through her.
It was everything she had hoped it would be. This had been the right choice. All the work, the writing, the hoping, it was finally amounting to something good. Something more than just her clan. Something maybe she could even—
"My lady."
"Oh!"
Ellana had nearly smacked right into Warden Blackwall, his stout form positioned right in front of the offices she exited.
Almost exactly where she had last seen him a half hour ago.
He stared back at her as she did him, but his face was paling, crossed arms tensely stiff even as his fingers jittered on his biceps.
"Warden Blackwall?"
"I...figured that you may be lost on your way out of the building since you were so lost on your way in."
It took Ellana a second before she put his thoughtfulness together and then she was grinning widely.
"You waited for me?"
"I can be a gentlemen when I remember to be." He seemed to grumble. "And it helps that I can have an excuse to leave this blighted place earlier than usual."
Ellana laughed and it seemed to relax the Warden.
"Now, why don't we make a run for it to the parking lot?"
"Lead the way."
"I had better."
Blackwall waved her along, taking her through a different way than they had originally come. He waved his keycard through a door, the Warden symbol a shiny griffon reflecting off the plastic.
He must work in the building then. Or he was at least high enough rank within the Wardens to warrant a flexible access to all the governmental buildings.
She had always assumed most Wardens were out near the borders of old Orzammar or stationed in Weisshapt when there wasn't a pandemic of Blight spreading.
The last blight had been years ago now.
But maybe there were Wardens placed in certain cities for recruitment and precaution?
She thought to ask him, but they had approached the exit and he held the door open for them into the busy steps outside.
"There we are, with enough daylight to waste getting ready for more political work later."
Ellana laughed at his joke and he smiled at her in an almost timid way.
"Thank you so much for helping me. I would have missed my meeting."
"Or you would have ended up in a hazmat suit."
She chuckled again and his hand grabbed at the back of his neck.
"Well then. A pleasure to meet you my lady. I wish you well tonight." He took another step down the stairs, looking out to the square before pausing to look back at her. "Maybe we will cross paths again."
Ellana looked down at him from her new height, smiling and thinking.
He was a sturdy man and charming. And he had helped her selflessly.
What's more, he could speak fluent Orlesian.
"Goodbye Ellana."
"Wait."
He paused.
"Do you have a date for tonight Blackwall?"
"Oh no, oh no, where have I put the curling iron now?"
"I just saw you pull it out from your bag—"
"I wandered about looking for the plugs and set it down somewhere."
Solas peered into the open hotel room, knocking loudly on the door. "Merrill, Josephine?"
"Is that Solas!?"
"Is it five thirty already?" Josephine answered him, coming out from the bedrooms in a long golden evening gown.
"I am afraid it is." He announced and somewhere adjacent to them Merrill cursed.
"Is the car already here?" Josephine asked again, hurrying to her table where a golden mask was set aside with a purse and some jewelry. She fitted it around her head just as she looked up at him properly. "Oh, why professor! You look very nice."
Solas didn't need to glance at his suit, he just nodded, brushing over the compliment.
"Thank you."
Merrill burst in the room to join them.
"Is my hair alright!? I had thought to curl it but I don't want to keep anyone waiting. What about the dress? Is it wrinkled? I could use the curler to smooth out the edges perhaps but--"
They both assessed the girl with smiles.
"You look fine Merrill." He answered. Merrill looked over at him in her own mask, twisting silver that made her eyes look impossibly larger.
"Thank you—oh I like your suit! It looks very finely made! The pocket is quite colorful."
"I will pass the compliment on to Dorian."
"He does have quite the eye for color." Josephine grinned.
"The car is downstairs already Merrill."
"Oh no! Alright—just let me grab my ticket!"
"Quickly now."
She bustled away as fast as she could, her evening gown tight about her legs. The movement reflected in Josephine too as she shuffled toward the door.
"Give me moment Solas, I need to make a call." She paused as she handled her phone. "Do you not have a mask?"
"I am not wearing one."
"Oh... alright." She looked as if she was going to say something but thought against it, dialing on her phone and stepping outside the room.
He had seen no need for masks tonight, aside from the one he always wore.
"You have a date!? Who? An Orlesian?"
"A Warden." Ellana responded, balancing the phone on her shoulder as she closed the hotel room door behind her. She hid her keycard into her robe.
Her toes sunk into the rich carpet of the hallway.
"A Warden? Who? Do I—"
"You can meet him at dinner Josephine. I'll be sitting with you."
"You are!? Oh that's good news! I was worried that I wouldn't see you at all tonight after—What?"
Ellana waited, listening as she walked down the hall to the gleaming elevators.
"—Alright. Thank you, Solas. Yes."
Ellana hit the button on the plaque, staring at her reflection in the polished metal. Her face stared back at her, matching the patches of exposed skin across her silhouette.
"We have to get going, but I'll catch you at dinner?"
"Yeah, I'll see you then."
"Bye! Good luck on the carpet!"
"See you!"
She hung up, smiling at her phone and placing it with her hotel key and tickets.
Ellana looked back up at her reflection then, feeling her nerves swell just under the surface of her skin. She tried to shake it off when the doors opened, stepping inside.
Her confidence had been through the roof when she had been getting ready.
Each tie and belt of her robes had felt like putting on the straps of battle armor. She felt more connected with the history Deshanna had always spoke of than ever. Her mind had been full of thoughts on the many Keepers before her that had wrapped their legs in weaving leather. Of Emerald Knights who had strode through human cities in dyed wools of green and brown.
But standing in the metal reality of an Orlesian elevator clad in thin robes had Ellana feeling foolish.
The doors dinged open and the marble of the lobby was cold on her feet.
She tried to ignore the goose bumps on her flesh as she strode hastily past the hotel patrons. She was suddenly very aware of how much shorter she felt without shoes, or how high the slit of her robes ran up on her exposed thighs.
A few people turned to look at her.
"Lady Lavellan."
She paused, having almost made it to the doors of the car park when someone called her from the concierge desk.
Blackwall.
The Warden was head to toe in uniform. The rich blue was interrupted only by black belts and shiny silver buckles. His dark hair and beard looked almost a part of his regalia, framing the domino like metal mask around his eyes.
She would have been utterly intimidated by the sight of him, if he wasn't cradling the biggest bouquet of roses she had ever seen.
"Ehm... these..." He seemed to realize what she was staring at, stepping forward to meet her. "These are for you."
Ellana felt her sudden nervousness slide away.
"Every single one?"
Blackwall chuckled. "No, just those three there."
He hefted the entire thing to her, paper crinkling beneath their fingers.
"Let's just say I couldn't decide which was best."
Ellana laughed loudly then, enough that a few people stopped to stare at the two.
"This is amazing!"
He shuffled where he stood. "It's not so... I had..."
Ellana glanced at him wryly.
"If I am being quite honest my lady, I have no idea what the exact rules are for Conference dates are."
She just smiled. "I love them."
"Good. That's a start. And you look..."
His arms made a slight movement as he looked her over. "Well..."
"Dalish?"
"I was going to say practical. At least more comfortable than I." He motioned to her toes. "No shoes. Good idea."
"Do you think the Orlesians will mind?"
Blackwall barked in his laugh but shook his head. "No. Of course not. Though, oh—you forgot your mask."
"I'm not wearing one."
"Oh?"
"No, I've already got a permanent one, see?" Ellana joked dryly, shifting her shoulder to point at her face since her hands were occupied. A rose skimmed across her chin.
It made Blackwall laugh and he didn't press the issue.
"We should be on our way then." He nodded and stepped forward. His arm came out, shoulder crooked.
Ellana raised her eyebrow, her arms enclosed around her flowers.
They were awkwardly quiet for a moment as realization set into his face and Blackwall's cheeks burned red.
"I suppose I did not think of what you would do with them after I gave them to you."
"Let me ask concierge to take them to my room."
"Right. Of course. Then we'll go."
She laughed, enjoying his embarrassment.
"Can you believe how many people are out there? All calling out and taking pictures! Oh, I did not think anyone would be taking pictures of me! And where do they go? Do they post them online, will we see them?"
Josephine laughed at Merrill as their party pushed through the crowds of people into east entrance of the Winter Palace. "If we are in any photos, it is only by accident!"
Solas was thankful for that.
There was music pouring from somewhere to their left, above the crowds and lights. People were moving to gather further inside, or crowding together to take photos or talk.
"I've never been on a red carpet before! I suppose I'm not famous enough for it—"
"It's mostly politicians, but the press loves a good show. Especially a Masquerade. There's only so many in the year these days and celebrities take the chance to show up for the fashion of it."
"Oh, Hawke would have loved it! Or—maybe hated it."
Solas was half listening as they moved past tables of program cards and stands for organizations vying for political attention. His eyes glazed at the sight of it all.
It wasn't his first time attending, nor was it his first recognition. It had been enjoyable at a time when he had been eager to meet and discuss work with other associates or gain knowledge he could use in the future. There was nothing like a Gala or Masquerade to find secret news, allies, or enemies.
But his mind was not in it tonight. It hadn't been when he had gotten dressed or on the drive over. And their small run through the carpet and dodging photo ops hadn't spurred it either. Not that anyone wanted photos of a few archaeologists.
Still, for his writing...
But even that fell flat.
He could only think of the weight of his phone in his pocket and Ellana.
Had she gone boating? What Dalish meeting was she sitting in? Would she go for dessert after? Had she seen the Chantry d'Orterre or the Market Square in the west end? He wondered if she would enjoy the stalls of tourist trinkets more or if she would rather visit the shops of Pierre-Marie.
"Solas, do you know where our table is?"
He looked over at the two, shaking himself back into work. "We should be seated near the southwest doors, but they won't open the dining hall for another—" He checked his watch. "Forty five minutes."
"So much time!" Merrill exclaimed.
"They have to give the guests enough time to make their appearance and comments for the press. We will all sit and eat together just before the awards are given. It's really more about this time, for people like Ambassadors or well, the Empress and her entourage." Josephine explained. "In Antiva we all ate first. But I suppose that says something about Antivans."
"Shall we look around then? They have pieces on display! The Eluvian should be here somewhere!"
"And Hors d'oeuvres!"
They giggled together, leading the way in trailing dresses through the crowd of shining masks and golden floors.
Solas wondered if there were cocktails.
"No mask Ms. Lavellan?"
"I have a permanent one already." She commented into the small microphone mounted on the recorder.
The crowd about the metal fence laughed and she smiled with them, staring at the flashes of light since she couldn't see the reporter's faces behind it.
They all seemed to like the joke.
"Thank you—"
She kept walking, her arm hanging closely around Blackwall's as he pulled them through another wave of notepads and cameras.
"...an honor for the Dalish and my guest Miss Ellana Lavellan of the Lavellan clan."
She could hear Briala introduce her for what seemed like the umpteenth time and she nodded her head, raising her hand in a wave.
"You know." Blackwall suddenly said, low and close to her ear so no one could hear them. "You could have warned me you were famous."
She laughed then, genuinely, and it helped soothe the nerves firing through her entire body. "I'm not!"
"When I attend these things my lady, I am part of the guests behind us. The ones not being stopped as they stroll inside. Now there are reporters asking me who I'm wearing?"
"Who are you wearing?"
Blackwall frowned.
"Carinus if memory serves."
"Orlesian designer?"
"No, the first Warden."
Ellana smiled and they stopped again for a photo. The barrage of flashes made her head spin a little.
It was utterly overwhelming. Somewhere in her mind she had known the concept of what she was attending tonight, but not the reality of it.
Though who could really imagine such a thing without experiencing it?
Briala stopped before them, coming back to stand with Ellana for a photo, her head held straight and high. Briala didn't smile for photos, she nodded curtly and waved them off when she was finished.
The Ambassador caught her eye then and did smile.
"Grey Warden, I think we have both made enough appearances for now, could you escort Ellana and I inside?" Briala prompted, maybe sensing Ellana's short leash on her anxiety.
"Yes my lady." He nodded, a sudden stiffness setting in his shoulders at the order. He offered her his hand, raising his head.
"Alright, thank you, no more photos. Thank you." He began excusing as they walked the entrance. "They're done now, thank you."
The two elven women grinned at each other, leaning across Blackwall's wide chest to speak.
"A good choice to bring such command with you tonight, Ellana."
"Ma sarannas, Ambassador."
"Perhaps I should get a Warden for myself."
The Eluvian was in the Grand Library, past the Hall of Heroes.
They had created a stair podium for it, viewable on every side as it sat under controlled light and a temperature monitored glass casing.
Solas had to admit that it was a stunning sight in the high ceilings of the Winter Palace.
But there was something odd about it under the aesthetic of intricate filigree and ornate flooring.
It wasn't finished of course. The remaining broken pieces must be cataloged in private somewhere, as the mirror stood like an unfinished puzzle in the scrutiny of crowds of people.
But the detailing of its frame was simpler, sharper. There was nothing floral about how that metal was tempered and formed.
It was unforgivingly Elvhen and his eyes softened at the sight of it.
"It's so beautiful." He glanced at Merrill, watching as her large eyes sparkled behind her mask.
Josephine noticed the expression too and tucked Merrill's shoulder into hers. "You should have the opportunity now to see it finished Merrill. After the board meeting this morning, you're the only one the Dalish authorized to help its transport."
"Itha was kind to let me." Merrill whispered, blinking fast to stop the tears on her face.
Something warm spread through his fingers as he stared at his assistant's obvious happiness.
He smiled, turning to look at the mirror.
They had been right.
Beautiful or not, it did not belong here.
"Already gloating, I see?"
The three turned then and a swish of material shifted in front of them as a familiar cold stare met his.
"Morrigan."
"I found it quite odd when the announcement was made." The woman nearly cooed, stepping forward to meet them and motioning to the mirror. "Can you believe that every single one of the judges on the board is Orlesian? And all of them non-patrons of most arts. Unethical and biased to be sure."
Solas said nothing as she continued, but he could see the knowing anger in her eyes, a trained calm emanating from her.
"But with a board like that it's almost obvious what they would vote in favor of. So I find it strange that more than half of them swayed the other way."
"The legal writing is above most of our heads, to be sure." Josephine butt in. "It happens all the time in our museum too. We had issue with a few artifacts dug from a Dwarven team once and even though they had found it in Fereldan it was the elevation below ground that ended up being claimed by the Orzammar."
Morrigan wasn't looking at Josephine.
"Oh that's odd! I had not thought that the Deep Roads would change the boundaries of a dig site!" Merrill responded.
"It seems obvious now, but at the time it was slightly baffling."
"Ms. Montilyet is right." Solas suddenly interrupted. They all looked at him as he stared back at the mirror. "Perhaps it was a small legal technicality they realized must mean the Dalish were to inherit the piece that was found, in fact, on Dalish grounds."
He noticed a shine from the corner of his eye and raised his hand, waving as a tray of glasses neared them. The waiter noticed his signal and came over quickly.
"Legal technicality." Morrigan repeated. "Why, of course. Three weeks of court sessions only to end in a sudden piece of new information."
Solas thanked the waiter as he lowered the tray of champagne, handing one off to Merrill and Josephine before taking his own.
He pressed the rim to his lips, taking a drink as he met Morrigan's gaze.
"Merrill... why don't we go look at the plaque at the front? Your name is probably—"
"Oh Creators your right! Oh we must go look, I need a picture of it! Varric and the other will want to see it oh—"
Josephine gave Solas a look, but smiled at Merrill, pulling the girl along with her through the crowd.
They were quiet a moment longer.
"If you think for a moment that I am not intelligent enough to see the Dread Wolf's work—"
He glared hard at her and the spoken title.
"I know that you had something to do with it. I have enough information that one Madame de Fer was on the board with the others."
"There are many Orlesian authorities on board—"
"The only one on that board whose also published works of—"
"Perhaps you would like to ask The Minister of Justice herself." He interrupted, nodding curtly to the crowd behind them. "Vivinne's only right there."
Morrigan turned and Solas took his escape where he could find it. "If you'll excuse me."
It was more complete than when she had last seen it.
Ellana stared up the height of the mirror, remembering it as it had been in the Conservation room of the museum in Fereldan.
That had been weeks ago though.
Funny to see it here in Orlais.
She leaned over the roping to the small podium where the plaque stood. It was an ornate stand, the polished oak gleaming in its own little spotlight.
The Sabrae Eluvian
2.44.7650 12.15
Floated glass on melted ore weathered in dipped iron.
Courtesy of the Clan Sabrae.
Restored by the Ferelden Conservation, head Archeologist Solas. Cr. Merrill Sabrae.
Ellana grinned.
"Here we are."
She stood straight, turning to see Blackwall reach her through the crowd.
He extended a stem of champagne, the golden drink fizzing.
"Oh fancy."
"Now, what's this then? The piece you were talking about?"
"Yes, it's the mirror from my museum."
Blackwall took it in, frowning before leaning in to read the plaque like she had. "Sabrae. That's not your clan is it?"
"No, no. I'm Lavellan."
She smiled, leaning forward with him to point to the podium.
"Look, this plaque is made from plastic."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, and there's nailing at the corners above the edges."
Blackwall straightened, scratching his head with his free hand. "That means...?"
"They mounted another plaque here first and then had to take it down and place in a new one. A cheaper one."
Blackwall chuckled, catching on. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time we Orlesians were a little too hasty."
Ellana stared at the plaque and shuffled through her robe to take out her phone.
Her vhenan would love this.
She sent the first photo quickly before leaning back to take another of the whole mirror. She had regretted not getting a photo for it the first time, she wouldn't make that mistake again.
She balanced the glass in one hand as she texted sloppily with the other.
So she almost missed Josephine's sudden hug.
"Ellana!"
"Josie!"
"Oh, Ellana I'm so glad we caught you!"
"You look gorgeous Josie!"
"Oh—No, I—You look-where's your mask?"
"I'm not wearing one Josie, I'm not Orlesian."
"Well neither am I or Merrill- Merrill!"
Josie twisted, her hand reaching out to snatch someone else's.
She pulled the girl through, the silver mask framing large eyes that were gleaming with excitement.
"Oh, are you Ellana? Josie has—Oh!! It's you!"
"Oh hey!"
She blinked, taking in the familiar face she had seen some time ago. The Dalish woman at the museum.
"Josephine mentioned you were Dalish! I should have realized it was you!"
Ellana found herself smiling as big as she had all night. "And you must be the same girl Varric speaks of! Daisy?"
"Yes! Then you're the Herald! I'm Merrill." Merrill stuck her hand out eagerly, nearly spilling some of her champagne in the other hand. "Tuelanen i'na!"
"Oh! Merrill--" They shoke hands and Ellana smiled. "Enastesha. It's weird I feel like I've heard your name before."
"Did I say it when I hit you that day?"
"Maybe!"
"You know each other?" Josephine asked in confusion.
"We ran into each other, yes." She joked.
They were laughing then and Ellana nearly forgot herself when Josephine interrupted.
"Ellana, won't you introduce us to—"
"Oh right," She turned to look up at Blackwall, only to find the man shock still and staring at the women, the small exposed patch of his cheeks burning bright underneath his beard. "This is Warden Blackwall."
The girls smiled at him, Merrill exclaiming at his title. Josephine put out her hand to shake his.
"A pleasure to meet you Sir Warden. Ellana only briefly mentioned you but I was excited when I heard you would be her date."
"Yes—I, your—pleasure." He sputtered, his eyes staring at Josephine's masked face. His hand grasped blindly at hers, missing once before drawing it close. "I'm Blackwall my lady."
And then he leaned down and kissed the top of her hand.
Josie nearly squeaked, but her trained propriety had her purse her lips tightly. "Oh, please, call me Josephine."
Ellana stared at Josephine with raised brows. The Antivan blinked fast in response, standing straight when Blackwall did, grasping the curls of her hair with her free hand. She coughed, "Pleasure, pleasure—"
"Oh this is all so exciting! Here we all are drinking fancy drinks in Orlais! Oh!" Merrill was saying, giddy and bouncing. "Where did Solas go?"
"Have you been here long, Ellana?"
"We were on the carpet for some time."
"You wore your robes!"
Merrill stopped looking around the crowd at that. "Oh yes, I wanted to say! It's so beautiful too see Keepers robes here of all places! A brave thing—and no mask—"
"I have a permanent one already." Ellana said in habit.
Merrill's laugh was sharp as it turned into a snort. "Because of vallaslin! Oh, that's hilarious."
"If I may say so it is an honor to meet all of you. Fereldans or not, I never expected to be in the company of the most beautiful guests."
They all looked at Blackwall then, full of smiles.
"That most certainly deserves a toast." Josephine said, raising her glass. It gleamed in the hall lights.
The four raised their champagne to clink harshly with a cheer.
"Oh there he is! Solas!"
"Solas!"
He turned, spotting a flashing silver mask through the crowd.
"Merrill."
"We're over here! Come look at the plaque!"
He shifted his shoulders through the people and spotted Josephine beside her.
They were standing right in front of the mirror, its edges gleaming above them.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Solas instinctively put his hand over its shape and thought of Ellana again. He glanced away through the crowd. Maybe there was a smoking room somewhere he could escape too.
"Merrill, give me a moment—"
"No, don't wander again!"
"Let me introduce you first, Professor." Josephine hurried.
He sighed, taking a drink from his champagne as he turned to the two beside them.
And everything seemed to stop within him.
He swallowed hard.
"This is Ellana. She's the one I was talking to Merrill about earlier, she interned with me in Fereldan."
"Hello."
"And Sir Warden Blackwall, her company tonight. From here in Orlais, correct?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Ellana, this is Solas. He is the archaeologist working with Merrill on the Eluvian. I've mentioned him before haven't I?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Oh Solas, Ellana's here in robes! I should have thought of that. Your feet aren't cold are they now? Has no one stepped on them yet? That's what I would be most afraid of. "
"Oh I hadn't noticed that Ellana —"
"I'm fine! Pleased to meet you Solas. En'an'sal'en."
The Elvhen rang through his mind like a clear chime piercing through muffled water.
The lights around them seemed blinding.
The eluvian was tall behind her, reflecting her back, showing him his cracked visage as he stood before her.
Her eyes—her hair, her face, her chin, her ears, her neck, shoulders— the swirling collection of vallaslin forming a mask he had never seen complete. It was a blur, a heat, a broken—no.
It can't- he couldn't, he wasn't—
En'an'sal'en.
Her voice.
His fingers gripped the cold glass in his hands.
The phone in his pocket burned against his side.
Da'len.
Vhenan.
Ellana.
He realized her hand was extended, fingers reaching for him as steady as the eyes she stared at him with. Those eyes.
And when he glanced down he saw it there on her wrist.
The twin, the other half, his heart, hers—
Ara'lin'hasal.
The identical knot wrapped about is own hand seared into his skin.
His hands.
"Hahren your hands!"
His eyes widened and he shoved both his hands behind his back, drink and all.
"Solas?"
"Are you alright Solas?"
If she—he couldn't—
He had to leave.
Excuse me.
Did he say it? He couldn't know.
His voice seemed to retreat inside of him, pulled by the strings that were wrapping around his heart and crowding his chest. There was nothing in his mind but the harsh rhythm of his breath as he tore his eyes away from that face.
Her face.
And left.
Notes:
...and zero. Countdown complete. 30 pages for you all.
Thanks everyone whose made it this far. This is far from over yet, so don't think this is the end.
FenxShiral is responsible for all my elvhen. ALL OF IT. EVEN THE NASTY STUFF. Especially the nasty stuff actually.
Vhenan - Heart or 'My Heart/Home'
Emma lath - 'My love.'
Ar latha ma - 'I love you.'
Eman solas i'mar eol - I'm proud of you.
Ir'tel'din - Absolutely not.
Isala'gara'seia'vallas - When you lust for your partner so much that you want to rub their cum into your skin.
Ir Abelas - I'm very sorry.
Nasvaraanan na - Having the feeling of missing, and/or longing for, someone or something that you haven't met yet.
Satha - Please.
Tuelanen i'na! - Elvhen Greeting. "Creators be with you."
Enastesha - Elvhen Greeting. "Graced"/"Graced to be here."
En'an'sal'en - Elvhen Greeting. Blessings
Ara'lin'hasal - Lover's Knot.
Forgive me my google translate french.
Orlesian:
Merci, s'il vouc plait, Arretez - Thank you, please, stop,
Tiens-moi au courant - Keep me up to date.
Votre prononciation est pas mauvais. - You have good pronunciation.
Non seulement en Orlesian. Une seule langue n'est jamais suffisante - Not just in Orlesian. One language is not enough.
Je veux te lécher des hanches jusqu'aux pieds. - I want to lick you from your hips to your toes.
Hors d'oeuvres! - Appetizers
Also, if you have not heard Solas in FRENCH. Fix that now:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xerCOLCusA