Author's Note: This is a collection of all the cut/alternate scenes from Pride's Price. Each one begins with an explanation as to where it originally occurred in the story, as well as an explanation as to why it didn't make it into the final version. Please read gently, there has been no editing to the sections, as they weren't intended for publication.

Originally written for chapter 1, where he plays the musical instrument (rodhe'sil) for her. It gets a little...raunchy. Far too soon for the story. So I cut it. Here it is, as it was originally.

"It is a musical instrument," he told her, offering it back.

"Really?" she lifted it from his hands reverently, turning it over, searching for a way to make it reveal its secrets. "How do you play it?"

"With breath and finger placement."

She held it out to him. "Show me?"

He paused. Dare he? "Ma nuvenin." As you wish.

He took it from her once again. He cupped the bottom side with his right hand, the smooth rock nestling comfortably in the curved palm of his hand. His left came up, fingers resting between the grooves at the top, his fingertips evenly spaced along the length of the opening in the stone. He brought the spout to his mouth, took a breath, and blew gently into its interior. As with all objects of Elvhenan, it required magic to work properly, and Solas imbued the air with a tinge of his magic. Unseen runes lit up along the length of the instrument, a softly glowing gold the color of sunrise.

The sound that emerged was quiet, so as not to wake their companions. A low note, powerful but sad, warbling gently in the air. Then it rose, sliding through the register to a higher, sweeter sound. A bird's trill upon the morning air, hope blooming in a heart. Then down again in a sensuous glide, a promise of unknown pleasures in the dark. It fluttered there, drawing out thoughts of hands in secret places, wet warmth upon skin. A slow pulse and glide, two bodies merged as one. Ellana's breath grew short as she sunk into the sound then - up again the music soared sharp and high, tickling hands upon ribs and she giggled at the sensation. Solas lowered the instrument, the colors died, the sound faded away.

Ellana gasped as the sensations abruptly cut short. "Wh...wow. That was…"

"Elvhenan was a world of physical delights, its people sensuous and free with affections. Their music reflects this reality." He offered it back to her, eyes unreadable.

Ellana didn't know what to think. "What is it called?" She made no move to take it back; she wanted to hear those notes again.

"Rodhe'sil,"

Ellana frowned, trying to pick the word apart. She shook her head, "I don't know that one."

" 'Rodhe' is taste, or flavor. 'sil' is thought, or mind. It is a poetic language, so rodhe'sil would be more accurately translated as 'flavor of the mind'," Solas told her. "A phrase that makes no sense in the Common tongue. It requires understanding of nature of the instrument itself. As you experienced, the music is more than sound, it is thought and emotion as well. It is whatever the musician puts into it, whatever they desire the audience to experience."

Ellana thought of the dark notes at the end, the pleasurable throb they had drawn from her. He was so aloof most of the time. But then he would do something unexpected, like the flirtation earlier, or the music now. These bursts of emotion were the whole reason she kept trying. He never - not once - told her to back of. Never said no. If he had, she would have left him alone, retreated behind professional curtesy. But though he was slow to respond, he was responding. And in remarkably forward ways, too. And so she felt confident in her pursuit.

She leaned towards him, placed one hand upon the rodhe'sil where he offered it to her, but instead of taking it, she wrapped her fingers around it - and his hand. "It's beautiful," she told him, her voice soft and intimate. "You play it well. The sounds," she deliberately drew upon how they had made her feel at the end, before he had ended it with laughter. Butterflies took off in her stomach, the feeling sinking lower, the pulse of her heartbeat between her legs. She looked into his eyes, knowing that what she was feeling would show in them. "You are very good with your mouth."

He swayed towards her, as if drawn by her proximity and she wondered if he would finally kiss her. His free hand came up, moving as if to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears. But her hair was cropped short, failing to provide him with an excuse to touch her. He did it anyway, and she sucked in her breath as the tips of two fingers followed the line of the top of her ear to its crest, then down and around the bottom to reach her neck. He followed it, stopping only when he encountered the fabric of her tunic. She tilted her head slightly, inviting him, and his face abruptly closed.

"Have a good evening, Inquisitor."

Inquisitor Lavellan stared in disbelief as he pulled his hand from hers, allowing the rodhe'sil to fall to the ground. He stood without another word, stepping into the tent he shared with Blackwall without ever looking back.

This was a difficult scene for me. I wrote it three different ways. The is the most recent of ones that was cut. Solas is teaching Feynriel how to manipulate the fade from the physical world, without sleeping. They attract a crowd. Solas wants the watchers to scamper, but Dorian and Feynriel gang up on him, and convince him to teach the assembled mages.

"It is not that I do not want to teach, it is that they can make no use of the knowledge. And more than that, even should they desire to store it away for the next Dreamer, it will do them almost no good. You can write all you want about fade manipulation and dream walking, but the Beyond is not something that can be described. It must be experienced. And only Dreamers can see it as it really is." Solas shook his head, leading the way out, now that the room was clear. "Come."

Every mage in the hold was waiting in the training yard, faces expectant. Even Vivienne. And Morrigan. Solas looked around, gauging just how many people had arrived. Hundreds. He shook his head. Ridiculous.

He turned to look at Feyrniel. "I'm afraid you will not learn much today, my friend. I will need to explain the basics of Dream Walking to them, and that will take much of my time."

"Is there anything I can do?" Feynriel offered, eager to watch the Dread Wolf share his knowledge with others.

Solas nodded. "Yes. If you wouldn't mind demonstrating various techniques as I describe them. Perhaps even help me with the explanations. It has been a long time since I spoke to so many."

Feynriel grinned, and nodded.

Solas moved to the front of the group, gestured at the ground, and a large rectangular section of it rose up, providing him a platform on which to stand. Murmurs ran around the assembled mages, to see him manipulating the earth so easily. It was not something any of them had ever managed. The two Dreamers mounted the platform, and Solas reached up and touched the side of his neck with a finger.

"For those of you who do not know me," Solas said, speaking no louder than normal, even as his voice seemed to carry to those in the back, "my name is Solas. This," he gestured at Feynriel, "is Feynriel, my apprentice. We are Dream Walkers. Somniari."

A ripple ran through the crowd. It was one thing to hear rumors, quite another to have it confirmed from the man's own mouth.

"I had intended to only teach Feynriel. But given the overwhelming interest, I have decided to share what I know with all of you. However," he said, raising a hand and quelling the spiking excitement, "what you will hear will not do you much good. Much like being a mage is not a choice, neither is being a Dreamer a choice. It is an innate talent." He folded his hands behind his back and began to pace slowly back and forth.

"Mages are cognizant of when they dream. You are aware that you are in the Beyond, that the things you see are fabrications of your subconscious mind, or created from the will of spirits you encounter. It is the same for a Dreamer. But where you stop at simply being aware, or being able to dismiss the dream at best, a Dreamer is able to take full control of their dreams. Feynriel can shape the fade to his will as a spirit does. He can also banish demons from his presence, so long as they are not more powerful than he is."

Feynriel, standing behind Solas, nodded his head.

"He can also view the fade as it is." Solas paused. "You know that spirits - some spirits - desire things in this world. Covet bodies or emotions. This is because the fade is a reflection of the physical world. In places where events have occurred that have drawn the attention of spirits: battles, or great political upheaval, the memories are pressed into the fade. A living record of what has passed. When a Dreamer sleeps in such places, they can actually dream of ages long past." He smiled. "I find ruins of Elvhenan particularly appealing."

Feynriel suppressed a snort. Of course Fen'Harel found Elvhenan appealing.

"I am an apostate. I have never been inside a circle, and I have never lived with the Dalish. I am almost entirely self-taught. I have, on occasion, traded secrets with other Dreamers as I encountered them, but most of what I know is through trial and error, or through the kind lessons from spirits I encountered."

The mages grumbled in disbelieve and censure.

Solas shook his head. "There are spirits in the fade that wish no harm upon the waking world. Indeed, there are many who have almost no interest in it at all. You know of the demons. Pride, envy, lust. But you do not know of Wisdom or Love or Compassion. Rarely do these spirits interact with you, for you are hostile to everything you see in the Beyond, and they are fragile."

Feynriel stepped forward, and Solas ceded the floor to him.

"I have seen many remarkable things in the fade," Feynriel told them. "Perhaps the most remarkable was the evolution of Lust into Love." Feynriel gestured at Fen'Harel, "Solas is fond of saying that a demon is simply a spirit whose purpose has been twisted. I watched a demon of lust tempt a man. He was no mage, and could not see the demon for what it was. I was weak, then. A new somniari. I did not yet know how to shape the fade, or drive demons away. All I could do was watch as the demon attempted to drive the man into a frenzy. It took the image of his love, threw itself at him, stoking his ardor into a blazing fire. And though the man believed the demon, he refused to fall into its madness. Where it demanded, he gave. Where it was harsh, he was kind. Night after night, I witnessed this man as he slowly taught the demon the joy of giving to the ones you love. Of gifting himself to his lover. I would not have believed it, if I had not seen it with my own eyes. But this man's kind and giving heart removed the sickness from the spirit, allowing it to be Love again." Feynriel smiled softly with the memory. "I am stronger now, and have since sought out the spirit that is now Love. It has found a small village. It watches the young women as they grow, and once they are old enough, guides them to the young men of the village who will love them with the same gentle kindness that the man taught it. I call it the Matchmaker, and no village has ever been more blessed."

Solas stepped forward, to stand beside his apprentice. "The fade is a complex, fathomless place where the imagination becomes reality, and nothing and everything is real. For those with the talent to see, it becomes a wondrous world full of secrets to uncover. It can be dangerous, for there are things that hunger. But as with everything else in life, temperance and moderation are your defenses. And should you open your eyes to the Beyond, you just might see Wisdom. Or Compassion. Or Love."

My first attempt at the first official meeting between Abelas, Solas, and Ellana after the sentinels take refuge in Skyhold. Didn't fit with the theme I was going for.

The next morning, Solas lead Ellana directly across the Great Hall to the Undercroft.

"I thought we were going to see Abelas?" she asked, as she followed him down the stairs.

"Oh, your elves are here, all right," Dagna spoke up, voice filled with excitement. "Only I don't know where they went!"

Ellana stared at the Arcanist blankly.

Solas glanced at Ellana, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'm afraid that I have not been entirely honest with you, Inquisitor," he said, without a shred of apology in his tone.

"Solas!" Ellana's hand flew to her chest in overblown grief. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Skyhold is rather larger than it appears at first glance."

"You're telling me!" Dagna put in. "I know there are more rooms, lots of them! The base of Skyhold is way larger than it should be for the insides to fit."

"You certainly are clever, Dagna," Ellana said with a shake of her head. "I had no idea."

"Here." Solas walked over to what seemed to be an unassuming bit of blank wall. "Dagna, why do you not have any tools or equipment stored here?" he asked innocently.

Dagna shrugged. "I dunno. It's just not the right space for it. Nothing seems to fit quite right. It's all right, though. I've got plenty of storage."

"Indeed," Solas said, and though his face and voice gave nothing away, Ellana just knew that he was laughing at them.

"All right, Solas. What's so special about that bit of wall?"

"Nothing at all, Inquisitor," Solas said, and walked straight through it.

"What?" Dagna squawked. "Where did he go? Messer Solas was just here, wasn't he?"

The Inquisitor just laughed. "It's a not a wall, Dagna! It's an arch! I didn't even see it until he moved to stand under it."

"Wait, you can still see him?" Dagna moved up, so close her nose was almost brushing the wall. "All I see it stone."

Solas cleared his throat, blushing from the tips of his ears down past the neckline of his tunic. He'd been forced to stumble backwards at her approach. As a child of the stone, Dagna was rather too short to be getting that close to….

"Dagna," Ellana said, barely suppressing her laughter, making it sound rather like something was caught in her throat. "You can't see it, Dagna. I think it's because you have no magic. Come away, and Solas will step back through."

"Of course, Inquisitor!" Dagna said, skipping away to stand at Ellana's side.

Solas took a second to will his blush away, then stepped away from the arch.

"There you are!" Dagna called. "Where did you go?"

Ellana glanced down at Dagna in confusion. "He came back through the arch."

Dagna looked at the Inquisitor blankly. "What arch?"

"I am afraid that is my fault, Inquisitor. The doorway is spelled. She will forget its existence every time someone walks through it. If she had magic of her own, we would only need to tell her of it, or let her see someone walking through, and she would remember. But as a Child of the Stone," he shrugged. "I'm afraid the memory will never firmly take root."

"Why would you need that sort of magic here?" Ellana asked him, stepping up at his gesture to walk through the arch, leaving a very confused Dagna behind.

Faintly, they could hear the Arcanist say, "Weren't the Inquisitor and Messer Solas just here?"

Solas gave her a sheepish smile. "I'm afraid I was a bit of a prankster in my youth. I would have given Sera quite the challenge. It was a minor game I played with new servants. I would go to the armory to pick out a new sword or dagger...and vanish, only to reappear at a totally different point in the keep, without ever going back through the Great Hall."

Ellana shook her head. "Sometimes, it's so hard to imagine you as the Trickster. Then you go and say something like that, and I remember all over again."

He smiled, reaching out to lace their fingers together. "This leads to the aviary. Or the stables."

Before she could ask, they exited from the hallway into an enormous room, veilfire lights placed along the walls. The roof was lit with what would best be described as a chandelier. But no metal could be so delicate, no crystal so glistening. Half-moon depressions were carved into the rock on the floor at regular intervals, while the back half of the left wall had innumerable shelves cut into its face. And the whole far end was open air, a ledge jutting out into free space. Abelas and his elvhen occupied the grand room, talking in clusters or lounging in the depressions.

They were greeted casually with nods. A few called them by name. But none stopped what they were doing. None bowed to Fen'Harel, or looked at Ellana with worshiping eyes.

Excited at the idea of walking, not unremarked, but unaccosted through a room lit up Ellana's face in a gleeful grin. "This is marvelous," she whispered loudly to Solas.

He cast his eyes in her direction. "We had gryphons living here, once upon a time. Flying on their backs was an experience."

Ellana looked back at the depressions in the ground. "Nests?" she asked, excited all over again.

Solas nodded, Ellana squealed, and Abelas approached them. "My lord?" he asked respectfully, with a confused glance at the Inquisitor.

Ellana controlled herself with an effort of will. "Ir abelas. Fen'Harel was just telling me what this room had once been used for. Gryphons are extinct now, and I'm afraid I let my excitement get the better of me."

Abelas softened, smiling slightly. "My heart grieves to hear that. They were one of Ghilan'an's finest creations."

"It was a great loss," Ellana agreed. "Are your people adequately supplied? Is there anything you require? I know you did not receive the warmest of welcomes, and I apologize again for that. Please, let me make it up to you by acquiring anything you need."

"Perhaps you could tell us where we are allowed to hunt? We have not yet fed this day."

The Inquisitor looked at him in horror. "None of you have eaten yet? It's past mid-day!" She rounded on her lover. "Solas-"

Solas held up both his hands in an effort to placate her. "I am not the ruler of the keep. By custom, you must be the one to give them leave to hunt, or sit at your tables. This is why I urged you to visit them early."

Ellana sighed and nodded. "You're right, of course." She turned back to Abelas. "You may hunt anything in these lands that you care to. Everything within three day's walk belongs to the Inquisition - to me. But, you need not feel that you must hunt to eat. You are welcome at any table here, day or night. For food or for company. Should any of your armor or weapons need repair, you may call upon my Arcanist to repair them. Alternatively, you may do the work yourself, should you desire. Any and all areas and amenities of Skyhold are open to you, save someone's private quarters - which I ask you to respect. You are not prisoners, but guests, and you may come and go as you please."

Abaelas stared at her, utterly without words. Solas, who had been quietly translating to the room, smirked. Ellana glanced around, uncomfortable.

"What did I say?" she asked Solas. "Was I rude somehow?"

"On the contrary, emma lath, you have treated them like freemen." Solas' voice was bursting with pride.

Ellana paused, focusing on the new phrase. He did that sometimes, throwing bits of El'vhen'an into conversation, and letting her puzzle it out. But this one was easier than most. Emma was personal: me or my. And lath was love. She grinned at figuring it out, but then frowned again as the rest of his sentence registered.

"Why wouldn't I treat them as freemen?"

Abelas raised one shaking hand to his face, fingers flowing down the lines of Mythal on his forehead. "Because we are not," he told her in a whisper.

Ellana's frown deepened into a scowl. "No," she told Abelas fiercely. "You are free. I don't care about the vallaslin upon your face. Until Mythal comes through my door and demands service of you, your decisions are your own. You are responsible for you - and no other."

Abelas, and all the other elvhen, bowed low to her in gratitude.

"Ma serran-en, asha'hanin. Dar'el'enansal."

Our thanks, lady of glory. You are our blessing.

Originally, Abelas was going to follow the Inquisitor and her companions as she went after the darkspawn outside the Gryphon Keep. But it got cut, in favor of them going straight to the southern areas to meet with the Avvar. Unlike this other scenes, this one actually happened. I just saw no reason to show it, when it did nothing but cover information we're familiar with. Here it is, unedited.

Despite her annoyance with a certain Tevinter, Ellana did not take him or The Iron Bull with her out to the wastes. At least someone should be getting some. Now if only Solas would return…

Ellana shook her head to clear her thoughts, bringing a hand up to shade the sun from her eyes. A ripple passed through the air, and the dazzle went out of the sun, even though the light was undiminished.

"What is that?" Cassandra asked, curious but not alarmed. She'd lost much of her wariness of new magic, since the formation of the Inquisition.

Though she suspected Abelas was the source, Ellana replied. "It keeps the sun from being so bright in our eyes, while still allowing us to see. Clever, no?"

"You dazzle all the same," Cole put in, confused.

The Inquisitor laughed and dropped back to walk next to the spirit, patting him gently on the shoulder. "And I'm sure I always will, Cole. No spell will dampen my light!"

"That would be a scary spell," Cole agreed.

"Frick'n weird, is what it is," Sera mumbled. Her distrust of all things magical hadn't waned in the slightest. She looked over at Abelas, not fooled by Ellana's misdirection. "You gotta be so elfy all the time?" she accused.

"Silence, child." Abelas returned.

"Thbt!" Sera blew a raspberry at him rudely, then stalked off to the front of the line.

Ellana sighed and dropped back farther, to walk next to the sentinal, whose eyes were always scanning the horizon. "I'm sorry," she told him quietly. She spoke to him almost exclusively in Common, not nearly confident enough in her bumbling El'vhen'an to attempt more than a few words to him in it. With how much the language had shifted from that which he spoke, they could only occasionally understand each other. It saddened her to realize that they could communicate better in the language of the humans. "She's...got a thing with elves."

"That is plain."

Ellana struggled with something to say, a way to open the door to a true conversation with him. It was so awkward knowing him as an elvhen. One who had been alive before the fall of Elvhenan. It made her grateful that Solas hadn't shared that information until after they'd developed a rapport. "Still. I'm grateful for the spell. Would you teach it to me once we make camp?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, considering. "As you wish, asha'hanin."

Ellana winced. "You don't have to-" the words died in her throat as he held up a hand.

"I have watched you. I know that you do not like the titles bestowed upon you. But you are a leader deserving of respect. And nothing you shall say will stop me from giving it."

He said it so calmly, placidly, as if they spoke about the weather. What could she possibly do that would change his mind?

She shot him a sly glance. "What if I gave you an order?"

Humor caused his eyes to sparkle, even as his face remained blank. "Was it not you who said you did not rule me?"

Ellana huffed, but said no more. At least she'd discovered that he had a sense of humor.

They stayed in the Keep that night, it was the most secure place to bed down and the path across the acid wastes was no more than an hour's walk away. Abelas spent several hours prowling around, observing architecture that was human in origin. He was...intrigued...by the things he saw. It twisted in illogical ways. To head up, one must first go down. A path to the right inevitably lead you somewhere on the left. It made navigation difficult, but it would be an utter nightmare for an invading force. He heard from the forces stationed there (who thought him a simple Dalish elf. Dalish!) that asha'hanin had stormed the keep with three of her companions and had managed to miraculously clear it of the enemies before the main bulk of her force moved in to claim it. An impressive feat indeed.

He followed her because he was curious. About this Inquisition that she commanded, about the world run by humans, about who she was, to have garnered the attention of Fen'Harel. He was known for keeping himself apart, and refused to bow to anyone. But here he was, tying himself to asha'hanin willingly, following her lead gladly. She'd told him that she only ever traveled with three companions, four being a nice, small group that could move quickly. Five was odd, awkward. He understood, but would not be deterred. To ease the lopsided nature of the powers, Abelas altered his fighting style to better mesh with the team. When they were weak in melee, he used his daggers. When they were weak on mages, he used magic. It was a skill that asha'hanin seemed to appreciate, even if the others were left uncomfortable with the fluidity. Or, as Sera had so eloquently put it after she'd watched him cast a fire glyph on his dagger and stick it in a man's back, causing the fire to light the unfortunate soul up from the inside, "Mages shouldn't be able to do things like that! S'all wrong!"

Ellana had simply asked to learn how to replicate the technique.

Reminded of his promise, Abelas turned back towards the others in the hunting party, their tents pitched along the side wall of the main level. He could hear voices as he approached, and slowed his steps to listen.

" 'E's creepy is what he is! Tell him to go away!"

Sera, no doubt objecting to his presence. Again. How had Fen'Harel's people become so spineless? Once, they had stood tallest of them all. Abelas wondered how Solas got along with her.

The Inquisitor sighed, lowering the fabric she was darning so that she could give her full attention to the archer. "He's not part of the Inquisition, Sera. I can't order him around. If he chooses to follow us - and can keep up - I certainly can't stop him, short of a brawl. And not only is that a bad idea," asha'hanin didn't seem concerned with the gleam that had started to flicker in Sera's eye at the word 'brawl', "but I wouldn't win a fight like that with him anyway. And," she gave Sera a stern look and Abelas knew she'd seen it after all, "not only am I not going to start anything, I forbid you from trying as well."

Sera slouched. "He's not right, that one."

"Abelas is the most experienced fighter I've ever seen," asha'hanin said softly, and Abelas stepped into the shadows as he settled in to listen. "He's graceful and powerful. His magic is as strong as mine, but he's got centuries of control. His trick earlier with the sun? I can vaguely guess how he went about it, but…" she shook her head. "It's such a subtle technique. I never would have thought of it myself. He has ancient knowledge that we thought lost. I know you don't care about Elvhenan, Sera. But it isn't fair of you to scoff at the things I care about. I don't scoff at your Red Jennies, do I? They are invaluable at helping the 'little guys' as you put it. I think you do great things, and I help you as much as I can, don't I? You may not understand why I care about Abelas and what he has to teach, but please stop being so difficult about it."

Sera sat in silence as she absorbed the Inquisitor's words. Then, "All right, Quizzy. I getcha. This is like that Thing, isn't it? Agree to disagree? I can do that. Just don't go anymore elfy on me."

Asha'hanin smiled slightly. "I make no promises on that front, Sera. But I do promise to continue to care about you, and your Jennies, and the little guys. And I hope you'll continue to ensure I don't get a big head."

Sera leaned over and socked the Inquisitor gently on the shoulder with her fist. Not enough to harm asha'hanin, but she did rock with the blow.

"You got it, Quizzy!"

After a few more moments, Sera retreated to her tent, and Abelas emerged from the shadows to sit beside asha'hanin.

"That was quite impressive," he told her.

She sighed. "I should have known that you were listening. How much did you hear?"

"Most, I believe," he paused, "why does she detest elvhen so much?"

Asha'hanin began to work on her darning again, her voice soft in the night wind. "I'm not really sure. My best guess is that she hates how the servants are treated so much, she wants them all to be treated better. Not just elves. Maybe she's come up against the 'elf-servant-lower-class' thing so much that she refuses to be an elf at all. Her favorite saying is 'we're all just people'. And that is something I can completely understand. I may want to create a home for the People, but I have no intention of restricting it to just elves. If a human, or a dwarf, or a qunari wants to live there, then I want them to live there. I want this place - wherever we find a home for it - to be a place where everyone can be free and equal together. It's...something that's never been done before, so I'm not sure how to go about it…" she trailed off, staring into the fire.

"A noble goal, Asha'hanin. And I am relieved to hear that you would accept all races in your new country." Abelas said, quietly.

"You...are?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I would have expected you to want a purely elven country."

"Why?" he he leaned back, searching for stars beyond the firelight.

"Well, because you're…" she made a vague gesture.

"As I am sure Solas has told you, the biggest problem with the Empire of Elvhenan was how differently the elvhen were treated, based upon nothing other than their birth. Something completely beyond their control. I serve Mythal, freely and gladly. But I would not have done so, had she not fought with Fen'Harel to undo the injustice of the society. By the end…" he sighed, lowering his gaze. "By the end, none were free; save the people of Fen'Harel. We, the sentinels, were saved from the quickening by withdrawing and killing all who approached."

Asha'hanin nodded slowly. "He told me that he didn't know how Elgar'nan and Dirthamen had done it, and wished for another elvhen to study, for comparison against the elves. He hopes to find a way to undo it."

Abelas turned incredulous eyes on her. Did she not know? Had he not told her? Was she not born this way? He spoke hesitantly, "Asha'hanin, you should be made aware that you are elvhen."

She smiled. "Not quite. Not yet anyway. We don't know what started it, or how. I'm still changing. He doesn't know how long it will take to be complete. I'm somewhere in the middle between elf and elvhen, at the moment. He suspects this," she held up her hand, where the mark glowed faintly, "has something to do with it. But he's not yet had time to study."

"I...see."

There was a lull in the conversation. And it was not until Asha'hanin was putting her stitching away, that Abelas spoke again.

"Will you tell me of these darkspawn we hunt?"

She froze, her eyes blown wide in surprise. "That's...not a good idea." She settled back in her seat, frowning. "Actually, it's a very good idea, I just don't know how you'll take it."

He cocked his head at her, birdlike. "Is it a terrible secret?"

"Not...as such?" she blew out a breath, ruffling the short bangs that fell over her naked brow. No vallaslin for the mate of the Great Wolf. "It's a more complex answer than you think. The darkspawn aren't just some group of mercenaries."

"I had gathered as much. But no-one seems willing to discuss them."

She nodded, unsurprised. "All right. But settle in, this will take a while."

Abelas sat up, folded his legs, and straightened his back, resting his hands lightly on his knees, taking on the position of rapt attention. Asha'hanin looked briefly surprised, then began to speak.

"The Tevinter Emperium was the next empire that rose to power after the fall of Elvhenan. Until you awoke and told us differently, it was understood that Tevinter rose up and crushed the People, enslaving those that did not escape. They ruled all of what is now Orlais and Ferelden. They still exist, but less than half of their former strength, now just one country among many.

"They were still at the height of their power when the darkspawn emerged from the deep roads, having already crushed the mighty dwarven empire. They swept through Tevinter, killing or corrupting everything they touched in what has come to be known as a blight. They were lead by a mighty dragon - the archdemon - and it cost Tevinter much to drive them back underground. In the aftermath of the blight, the slaves of Tevinter rose up against their masters, taking advantage of the weakened state of the country. Lead by an elf known as Shartan, and a human woman known as Andraste," she nodded when Abelas made a sound of recognition. He'd heard that name before. "the slaves formed a mighty army, drawing many to their cause. They won their freedom, breaking Tevinter's hold on the land. From their rebellion came many of the countries we have now. Nevarra, Orlias, Ferelden...and the religion of Andrase was born. The holy write of Andraste is the Chant of Light. It says many things. About magic and someone they call the 'Maker', as well as explaining the origin of the darkspawn, blights, and archdemons.

"According to the Chant, the Maker is the creator of everything, every race and species, every plant and tree. The magesters of the Tevinter Emperium became so prideful and gluttonous for power, that they desired to enter the Golden City in the Beyond, which is the seat of the Maker himself. They sacrificed thousands of slaves upon blood altars, harvested their lives, and cracked open the City. For their hubris, the Maker cursed them, and cast them out, making them the first darkspawn. He then turned his eyes away from his children, abandoning them and abandoning the City, for it had turned black with their sin. But Andraste prayed to him, sang, called with her whole heart for the Maker to return to the people and she was so beautiful and good that the Maker answered. He is the reason Andraste lead such a successful rebellion, the power behind her cause.

"She was betrayed, in the end, by her mortal husband, who grew jealous of the love and devotion Andraste had garnered in the Maker. She was burned at the stake, and though it is said that she sits at the Maker's side as his Bride, he has once again abandoned the people for what was done to his beloved. It is said that until the Chant of Light is sung in all corners of the world, the Maker will not return." She paused, allowing him to absorb all that she had said. Then, "Oh! One thing you must know about darkspawn, and this is no story. Their blood is infectious, it is an incurable disease that eventually turns you into one of them. There is an organization, the Grey Wardens, who are said to be immune, but it also makes them part darkspawn, which is how Corypheus controlled them. He still holds too many in his thrall. When we fight tomorrow, keep their blood away from you at all costs."

Abelas nodded in understanding, appreciating both the warning and the lesson. "What do you believe?" he asked at last.

Asha'hanin blew out a breathy laugh. "Now that's the question, isn't it? The Inquisition believes that I am the Herald of Andraste. That I am here at her - or the Maker's - behest, to stop Corypheus. I believe that I am a victim of unfortunate events, and I am making the most of a bad decision. As far as darkspawn, I believe that the City is the source of the blight as well as the red lyrium. Was it created by the Maker? That, I don't know. As Solas likes to say, 'the idea of a god who need not prove himself is alluring, but I cannot follow any religion that would use Exalted Marches.' " Seeing Abelas' confused look, she went on, "after the fall of the Tevinter Empire, Shartan and his elves were granted the land of the Dales, and they created a new city: Halam'shiral. But after the second blight (one in which they refused to help fight, even though they too were threatened) tensions were high between the humans and the elves. There was a misunderstanding...a village was slain...and the humans waged a holy war against the elves for not following the Maker. What was once the seat of a new elven power, is now the Winter Palace, where the throne of the Orlesean empire resides."

"It seems the humans are not to be trusted," Abelas offered.

"It's...not that simple. The elves were just as much to blame for what happened at Halam'shiral. They abandoned the world, when it needed them the most."

" 'They?' " Abelas asked mildly.

Asha'hanin flushed. "I'm as bad as Solas now, aren't I? He doesn't identify with either the elves in the alienages, or the Dalish. I was raised Dalish, with the vallaslin. But Solas removed it, at my request." She paused. "I don't really identify with any group of elves now, except perhaps the old People ruled by Fen'Harel in the days of Elvhenan. I'm no alienage elf to cringe at a human, but neither am I Dalish to venerate the Creators." She looked at Abelas, and her eyes burned. "I've lost more than I've gained. But what I have gained is worth so much more than anything I thought I had. The Dalish think they know the way of the world; they wander, waiting endlessly for the empires of man to fall. They've been waiting almost eight hundred years. And nothing has changed, except that their numbers dwindle, and more and more history is lost. I'm tired of waiting. I want to build a future for the People, not wait for it to fall in my lap."

Abelas finally relaxed his posture, leaning backwards on his hands once again. "Elvhen indeed," he murmured.

"Thank you. That...means a lot. Coming from you."

"Has not Solas said the same?"

"He has, but…" she shrugged. "He's also biased."

Abelas laughed for the first time in Ellana's presence, and she thought it a lovely sound. "I wonder what he would say, should you speak such words before him."

Ellana grinned impishly. "I have. He spluttered. It was beautiful."

Abelas' grin was full of teeth. "I believe I promised to teach you the spell?"

"You did!" Ellana adopted the pose Abelas had so recently abandoned: legs folded, spine straight, head up, hands on knees. Ready to learn.

They assaulted the darkspawn the following morning, and it was apparent from the way Abelas hung back that he had taken the Inquisitor's warning from the night before to heart. They made good time, despite their care in not getting blighted, and were soon working their way up to the top of a ridge. They turned a corner, and Ellana's face went pale.

"Inquisitor?" Cassandra asked, catching a glimpse of the elf's features. "Is something the matter?"

"It's a rift," Ellana said, faintly nauseous.

"...yes. Is that a problem?" Cassandra said warily.

Ellana held up her marked hand, the glow of the anchor so much dimmer than it was when she'd first gotten it more than a year ago. "I can't close rifts with it anymore. It's not strong enough."

"What!" Cassandra demanded, spinning around and grabbing in Inquisitor's hand with both of hers, the metal along her fingers squeaking angrily. "How? Since when?"

The rest of the group gathered round, eyes curious, and Ellana swallowed her first words.

"Since Adamant. When Fen'Harel sucked power from it to fight the Nightmare."

"But you've closed rifts since then, Quizzy. I've seen it." Sera objected.

"With Solas' help."

Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "He said he couldn't affect the rifts."

Ellana tugged her hand loose in annoyance. "He can't. We work together. I connect with them them, then through the mark, he closes them. I don't have the power, and he doesn't have touch. It's a team effort."

In the epilogue, after the urchin tells the couple the story of Fen'Harel and the goddess Lavellan, the woman tells her own tale of how the Great Wolf and his goddess fell in love. I decided that it had the couple acting far too superior and snotty.

"Yes," the urchin nodded eagerly. "She was mortal once, building the land here for the People. But so great was her grace and beauty, that she drew the Great Wolf from the Beyond. She called to him, and he came. She reached out her hand to him, and he touched her with his magic. He loved her instantly, you see, and gave her some of his immortality, so that she might live by his side forever."

The woman bit her lip and looked away, eyes bright with suppressed laughter. The man put his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side in a move so natural he might have done it a million times.

"Now, now, vhenan," the man told the woman chidingly. "It is not nice to laugh at the boy."

The urchin, insulted, drew himself up. "At least I know the story," he asserted with all the dignity of a wounded ten year old.

The woman turned back, utterly contrite. "I am sorry, da'len. It was very unkind of me." She pulled free of the man's arm, moving to kneel before the boy. "It's just that I am from clan Lavellan, and the tale we tell is, well. Rather different."

The boy's face lit up, all injury forgotten as he began to almost bounce in place. "You're actually from clan Lavellan? The clan Lavellan? The one the goddess came from? Please, please, please tell me some stories of her? I won't even ask for the last two gold! I would get so much more from other people, if I had tales from her clan!"

The man laughed, a sound deep and rich with joy. The urchin though he had probably never known a day of sorrow in his life. "With a request like that, how could we resist?"

"Vhenan!" the woman said in objection.

"Oh, no," the man said, still laughing. "You began this. Either tell the boy the tale, or I will."

The woman huffed, but when she turned back to the boy, she did not seem so very upset after all. Maybe that's what happened when you let someone else steal your heart - you stopped being able to be mad at them.

"How about we go to the shop? I'd rather sit for this tale." The woman gestured at the little restaurant at the side the specialized in flavored ice.

Without being asked, the woman bought a ice for the urchin, two scoops - one chocolate and one vanilla. How lucky he was to have found these two! All the others would be jealous when he told them!

Even so, the boy listened raptly as the woman began her tale.

The goddess Lavellan was born to the clan of the same name, a mage in an age when mages were still feared. The sky split because of an evil wizard, and through luck and chance she found herself at the heart of the solution. She had been cursed by the evil wizard, you see, and the curse was killing her. The Great Wolf, sensing her distress, came forth and touched her with his power, saving her life. But he was a very impressive Wolf, and for a time she feared him. But with patience, he earned her trust and love. But the goddess Lavellan was torn, for there was a man among her companions to whom she had also given her heart. Two men - one mortal, one divine - each loved by her in their own way. Her heart cried out, ripped in two. Then her mortal heart took her to a sacred place, far from the eyes of their companions and revealed his first secret to her: he was both Wolf and Man, and her heart was whole within his breast. His second secret was that she held his heart within her breast, and had since he had first touched her with his power. The two were married there, in the shade of a waterfall, with only the spirits to witness.

The woman ended her tale, hands clasped tight with her lovers. She glanced at him once, a mischievous look sliding across her face. "Do you want to know what Lavellan's greatest fear was?"

The boy shook free from the spell the story had woven around him. "You know it?" he asked, wide-eyed.

The woman nodded, "spiders."

"S-spiders?"

The man laughed. "It's true! She hated spiders of all kinds. It didn't matter what size, though she was wont to say that the small ones were the worst - you never knew where they might be hiding."

The boy frowned. "I don't believe you. No goddess would fear spiders."

"Well, she likely does not fear them now. For what spider would attack with the Great Wolf near?" the woman leaned into the man's shoulder, a tiny, satisfied smile upon her face.

"The Great Wolf feared dying alone, but what is there to fear, with his goddess at his side?" the man turned his head, pressing his forehead tenderly against her temple.

The urchin shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was all a little much for a little boy who still thought of girls as having cooties. The couple noticed, and pulled apart as easily as they had come together.

In the epilogue, the urchin sneaks the couple into the gardens of Fen'Harel. In this original version, they get caught and the couple has to prove their identity. Upon reflection, it is way too over the top. Fun, but not really realistic for a couple that is obviously trying to avoid notice. Well, in my mind they were trying to avoid notice. Hence the reason this was cut.

"Who are you!"

The urchin squealed and dove for the exit, leaving the couple behind. But the woman snagged him by his collar, holding him aloft without effort as she turned to face the guard bearing down on them.

"Let me go!" the boy hissed, twisting to get free.

"Not a chance," the woman told him pleasantly. Lifting her voice, she spoke to the guard. "Hello! Sorry to disturb, but it seemed silly to pay to enter our own garden. This little imp promised us a way in that wouldn't bother you. Guess he's not as skilled as he promised after all." She shook the boy gently and he stopped trying to escape.

"Your garden?" the guard scoffed. "This is Fen'Harel's garden. And intruders are charged with a heavy fine. If you cannot pay it, then you get civil service for a year."

The woman shrugged, "what's his is mine."

The man stepped forward. "Vhenan. Stop teasing the man." He turned his attention to the guard, and his rapidly approaching friends, all decked out in impressive matching armor. "Is there a sentinel here?"

"There is," the guard said reluctantly.

"Then we would like to undergo the trial, please." The man folded his arms behind his back, the picture of poise and control.

"You…"

The guards all shared and anxious glance. Then one, decked out in armor of slightly higher quality than the rest, stepped forward. "My name is Captain Fen'Harel. I would be glad to escort you to the sentinel."

"You have two choices," she told the boy, setting him down and placing both hands on his shoulders as she once again knelt to look him in the eye. "One, you scamper right now and go home. Your adventure ends here. Two, follow us, silent as a mouse, and see something amazing."

"How amazing?" the boy asked.

And the woman smiled. "So amazing, that it will be the only tale you will ever want to tell in your whole life."

The boy swallowed, and nodded.

"Good," she told him, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. Then she turned and fell in step with her lover. "Captain Fen'Harel?" the woman asked, deeply amused.

The Captain blushed to the tips of his pointed ears. "It is the name I was given at birth," he said. "It's common enough these days."

The man, never one to simply tolerate teasing, spoke up. "And what of Lavellan? How often are children named after the goddess?"

One of the women, with a greatsword strapped to her back, fell back a few steps. Not quite enough to be walking beside the couple, but close enough to converse. "My name is Lavellan," she said in an embarrassed voice. "I have an aunt with the same name as well."

The woman's smile expanded until it lit up her whole face. "I think that's a wonderful name."

The guardsman ducked her head, skin flaming. "Thank you, my lady."

The urchin, trotting behind the group of adults, watched the conversation with keen eyes. He might not understand everything that was going on, but he knew it was very important. Within a very short time, they reached the main chapel, where objects of interest from when the god and goddess had walked Thedas were preserved behind glass and charms. The couple lingered, staring at various items, and the boy wondered why the guards did not urge them along. Seeing his interest, the man gestured him forward.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked the boy, pointing to a blackened jawbone threaded on two strands of cheap string.

"A necklace?" the boy said.

The man raised a finger, and laid along the side of his nose, a sly grin upon his lips. "Just so. Fen'Harel wore it when he was fighting the evil wizard from her," he gestured at the woman, "story."

"Is it a wolf bone, then?" the boy asked.

The guards listened eagerly to the man's answer.

"That is the common guess, but no. It is the jawbone of a gryphon."

A ripple of surprise went through the guards. One of them could be heard to say, "the sentinel said it was wolf!"

The woman smiled, turned to the guards. "Much is lost when a tale is told so many times. Fen'Harel found the bone in a ruin, the last remnant of a most magnificent race, now lost to the ravages of time. He wore it to remember that which was lost."

"And removed it when he decided to focus upon the future." The man took the woman's hand, and they continued through the room.

Eventually, they reached the back, and Captain Fen'Harel went to the side, and pulled a chord. From the back, the first notes of a song resounded as bells sang. The man and woman hummed with the bells, continuing on even after they had fallen silent. All in the room listened with rapt attention, trying to burn these moments into their memory.

A harried-looking dwarf emerged from the back. "Yes, yes? What is it?" he asked, looking impatiently from the Captain to the couple. "Speak, Captain! We have important visitors coming today, and I must be prepared."

The Captain looked at the couple as if in permission, but turned back to the sentinel awkwardly when the elvhen only looked at him curiously. "These," he cleared his throat. "This couple has asked to undergo the trial."

"The trial?" the dwarf turned to face the couple, a disbelieving frown upon his face. "Do you know what you are asking?"

The same exact sly smile spread across the man and woman's face.

"We do," the woman said.

The dwarf looked utterly taken aback. "I...see. And if you...pass?"

And now the couple shared a look of compassion. "We are here to observe, child of the stone. Nothing more," the man assured them all.

The dwarf nodded, his neck stiff with tension. "Very well, this way, if you please."

The whole group moved through the curtain, the boy creeping in last of all to take up a place along the wall where he could observe the whole room without moving.

The room was set up very oddly. Brass rings were suspended on long strands of silk from the ceiling, dangling far too high up for any man to jump. More sat loosely in brackets attached to the wall and pillars, some hidden upside down behind stairs that lead from the middle of the room up to nowhere. And the last, a silver one, on a pedestal in the middle of a small body of water, too large to jump.

"The rules?" the woman asked, once she and the man were done looking about the room.

"You must retrieve the rings. Your feet may only leave the ground once from beginning to end. You are not allowed to swim the water."

The guards began to mumble to themselves.

"Can she fly?"

"Will he carry her?"

"The rings are too high, no way he could toss her!"

The couple only grinned.

"Ready, vhenan?" The woman asked.

The man nodded. He glowed green, the energy swelling and then, it faded away, revealing the massive form of the Great Wolf itself. The occupants of the room let up a great cry, as if they hadn't truly believed and now, suddenly, did. The two at the center of it all ignored them utterly, the woman approaching the Wolf without fear.

"Hello again," she told the Wolf, her voice warm with love.

The wolf rumbled a greeting, nose pressed to her shoulder.

The woman scratched vigorously behind the closest ear, and the Wolf's eyes half-closed in bliss. Then she stepped to its side, and he crouched low enough that she could swing herself up onto his back. She bent down low over his shoulders, the fingers of one hand twisted tightly in the fur. The snow did not seem to harm her. The Wolf crouched, waiting on her signal.

"Go!" she cried.

The Great Wolf lunged forward, snapping up the first ring in his jaws with one graceful leap into the air. He tossed his head back, teeth open, and the woman caught it with her hand as they came back down. She laughed as the Wolf sprung away again, bounding off walls and pillars, sometimes grabbing the rings herself, sometimes catching them out of the air when he would toss them at her. The woman tossed one of the rings at the urchin when they ricocheted off the wall above him, calling out a cheerful, "catch!" Soon, only the ring on the pillar beyond the water remained.

Energy contained, the Wolf approached the water at an easy walk, continuing to step out over the water as if it were land. The watchers let out a cry of dismay, expecting a tumble, but ice formed beneath the great paws as soon as they touched the water. The occupants let out a relieved breath, and the woman laughed and laughed.

"You vain creature!" she accused him, and the wolf huffed a laugh.

He stepped daintily across the water, and neither of them got so much as a drop of water on them. He took the last ring between his teeth, turning and pacing back the way they had come. Only once they were back on the tiles did the ice melt, returning to the water in one great splash.

The woman slid from the wolf's back, breathless with laughter, and dumped the bronze rings at the feet of the dwarf. The Great Wolf placed his prize atop the pile, the silver unmarked by teeth.

Magic shimmered, and the Wolf was once more a Man.

"Well?" the woman said, eyes bright, fingers clasped before her as if she were any other petitioner.