A/N: OK, sorry about the delay but tonight I had a distraction come up. Took a trip into the city and saw a UFO! Crazy stuff. My jaw was hanging open and flapping with shock the whole time. Never have seen anything like that before. Hubby and I were spellbound. Anyway...this chapter is NSFW! So, if sex scenes aren't your thing you'll want to end your chapter when Ellana says, "Your wish is my command, emma lath." Because everything beyond that is just smutty sexy time fluffiness. Well, this whole chapter is fluff, basically, but still.

Thank you as always to my lovely readers, followers, and especially anyone who took the time to review! I will not change this story to complete just yet as I'd like to try and put up an epilogue, but when I try writing it things keep trending darker than I'd like, as in I extrapolate the future (ten years out) and foresee conflict (Orlais going hostile, the Dales reaching for greater resources, Sylvun feeling the pressure of being the son of Fen'Harel and the former Inquisitor, that sort of thing) and I don't think that's something that should be in an epilogue. Therefore...I'm not sure I want to make the epilogue, but I'm also not ready to give up on it. Ugh. Anyway...without further ado...

Fifty-One

Vun'anshiral

Solas raised his hands to begin the cast, closing his eyes and reaching inward for his mana—and then froze as Mahanon shouted out to him, "Hahren! Venavis, just a moment, if you would…"

Relaxing again and with a slight frown belying his impatience, Solas watched as the Dalish First Fade-stepped toward the babbling river ahead of them, splashing as he reached the water. The shore was littered with rounded river stones in every shade of gray, red, brown, and white. River reeds and spindleweed grew along its edge; plump and healthy after the mild winter brought on by the restored Fade in the Emerald Graves. Mahanon crouched against the stones, heedless of the water rising around his legs as he did so, and began picking over the spindleweed stems.

We should have brought the hearthkeeper, Solas thought. And Deshanna. Both women would have leapt at the chance to collect the spindleweed as well, but unlike Mahanon they'd make an effort to harvest the plants at the root in the hopes of starting real agriculture. More and more elves filtered into the Emerald Graves every day and feeding them would be no small task, even with the power of the Fade at their disposal. The trouble was that living things could not be conjured from Fade ether. They could be nurtured, however, with spirit magic. Solas and the other surviving Elvhen had already begun sharing what they knew of such spells while the various Keepers had started pooling knowledge as well.

Claiming their homeland was only the first struggle of many to come.

Sylvun cooed and then made a spitting noise, drawing Solas out of his reverie with a smile. Solas wore his five-month old son in a carrier strapped to his chest. Sylvun faced his father's chest so he could rest his head there. His arms were free but his legs were wrapped inside the folds of fabric. He lifted his head from Solas' chest and gazed up at his father, his blue eyes wide and alert.

"Hello, Sylvun," Solas greeted him with a warm smile.

"Bah," Sylvun replied and grinned, showing his toothless mouth. Spittle dribbled as he blew a raspberry and pawed at Solas' tunic. "Pbbbfthh."

Still smiling, Solas tugged a handkerchief out of his belt and wiped briskly at the baby's mouth. "You're making a mess, da'fen."

Sylvun whimpered, protesting his father's efforts to clean his face, turning his head back and forth. "Baaaaaah!" he complained when Solas had finished, his little brow knitting in a glare.

"All right," Mahanon called from the river's edge, thrusting a fistful of spindleweed stems and leaves into the air. "I've got them." He rose to his feet and began tucking them inside his robes.

Solas craned his head upward, squinting his eyes at the sunlight through the thick canopy to gauge the time. A wisp darted by, playing in the swaying leaves far overhead. Watching it, Solas warned, "We have little time remaining. I had hoped to complete this before the ceremony tonight."

"There's hours yet before you'll be indisposed," Mahanon replied with a teasing laugh as he finished securing the spindleweed into his robes and Fade-stepped back to rejoin Solas on the riverbank.

Solas shot Mahanon a slight frown, feeling his ears burn slightly at the topic. Sometimes the clan was just a tad…uninhibited for him. Lavellan clan had a culture that was a strange mixture of pragmatism, tradition, and easygoingness that didn't quite match anything Solas had known in Elvhenan. The middle class village where he'd been raised had been steeped with tradition, ritual, and discipline, while the upper classes and the court of Arlathan had been all about intrigue and indulgence and etiquette.

With his handfast ceremony to Ellana only a few hours away, Solas expected he'd soon be getting an enormous dose of Lavellan clan's levity and celebration. Because Solas knew all too well how alcohol could fuel misadventures in the wake of a celebration, he'd set out with Mahanon to try and foolproof some of the land surrounding clan Lavellan's current encampment. He recalled very well how often couples had split off from the camp near Wycome when he'd first met with the clan the previous fall. Most of them were more than a little intoxicated and Solas expected there'd be a few accidents of one kind or another this night. Thus, he and Mahanon had set out to create a small stone wall along this riverbank to discourage drunken elves from slipping and falling into it. The Fade might render the People immortal from age and disease, but it could not prevent death by drowning or death by injury.

Mahanon pulled out one stalk of spindleweed and broke off a small section. "This stuff is great for teething," he commented. "Deya has been cranky lately and this is one of her favorites." Showing Solas the square he'd torn off, he waggled his eyebrows as he switched focus to Sylvun, who was watching his uncle with interest. "Do you want to gum this, da'len?" He mimed sucking and chewing on the spindleweed. "Mmmmm…Yummy."

Sylvun blew another raspberry and squirmed against Solas' chest, turning as much as the baby carrier allowed. He extended his little plump arms and hands out toward his uncle with a chortling laugh. Mahanon gave Sylvun the bit of spindleweed as Solas looked on, trying to determine if there was any way his son would be able to fit the square entirely into his mouth and choke on it. Mahanon usually judged such things accurately, having been a father himself, but Solas refused to let his guard down. But as Sylvun brought the spindleweed to his mouth and sucked on a corner, his little face warping expressively at the taste, Solas relaxed and let himself smile.

"You looked worried there, babae," Mahanon teased with a laugh.

"He has managed to fit surprisingly large items into his mouth before," Solas commented, a touch defensive around the more experienced father. "One cannot be too careful."

Mahanon laughed again. "Tell me about it. Once, Deya almost swallowed my pendant." Grasping the necklace he wore, Mahanon grimaced. "The thing just came off and it was in her mouth before I knew it. If Rinaya hadn't been nearby and noticed she could have choked."

"I am glad she was watching," Solas agreed with a nod. "A second set of eyes is always valuable."

"Is that why you brought me along?" Mahanon asked with a chuckle. "Because If I'm not mistaken, this is the sort of work you should designate to Abelas or myself."

"There is nothing unworthy in this for me," Solas said quickly, his voice stern.

Mahanon blinked, taken aback. "Ir abelas, if I offended hahren. I just thought such simple reshaping would not be worth your time—especially today."

Solas' shoulders slumped as he made an effort to explain his reaction. "Do not apologize, falon. I am the one who should be sorry for my shortness with you." Facing the river, he motioned toward the embankment as he went on. "In Elvhenan an Evanuris would never perform such a small reshaping, you are correct. But I have no desire to encourage that viewpoint to take root again. There should be no task considered too small or demeaning for myself. I have been deified before—I have no desire to experience such again."

Mahanon nodded slowly, a somber understanding glinting in his gaze. "I see what you mean—I think, anyway."

"Baaaaah!" Sylvun put in, pounding the square of spindleweed against Solas' tunic, leaving wet smears from both the plant and the baby's saliva.

"Patience, da'fen," Solas said, stroking his son's auburn hair with one hand while the other wiped at the mess Sylvun had made.

"Is he getting hungry?" Mahanon asked.

"Undoubtedly," Solas answered. Ashani and many others among the Dalish had commented frequently that Sylvun was already big for his age. In accordance with that, he was always hungry. "We must finish here and return."

"Abah-bah," Sylvun added, spitting as he gummed on the spindleweed again.

Envisioning the low wall Solas wanted to run along this riverbank, he raised one hand and reached with his incorporeal senses. The Fade connected with him, resonating somewhere deep within him. From the verdant earth along the riverbank, green mist coiled upward like smoke, drawn out like water wrung from a wet cloth. Clenching his fist, Solas motioned in a slow sweeping gesture, drawing the pale stone bricks from the Fade ether itself. The wall took shape, gleaming and shimmering as it solidified.

"Excellent work as always," Mahanon said. "And much faster than constructing a wooden railing."

"Ahhh!" Sylvun said and grunted, kicking and squirming against Solas' chest. He giggled, grinning up at his father. As Sylvun's little fists gripped Solas' tunic, he felt his skin tingle warm with the pleasant caress of magic. Sylvun was already beginning to express magic, despite not yet being six months old.

"Very good, Sylvun," Solas told the baby, smiling down at him. He took one of Sylvun's hands into his own and let a little spirit magic light up his palm so his son could feel and see it.

Sylvun let out an excited shriek, squealing and squirming with delight. He hadn't learned to mimic the brief expression of magic yet, but Solas knew it wouldn't take long before his son would be accidentally conjuring whatever his natural magical affinity was. If he took after Solas it'd be winter, and if he followed Ellana's affinity it'd be storm.

"How strong do you think he will be?" Mahanon asked, observing father and son with a tender expression.

"There is no way for me to be certain," Solas admitted, still smiling and playing a sort of magic patty-cake with Sylvun. The baby's giggling made something bubble in his chest, warm and bright. In truth he had no desire to ferret out that bit of information just yet. Solas had no idea what signs to watch for in talented young children from Elvhenan, but Lyris and Mathrel did. They'd be able to tell him if Sylvun seemed exemplary or if magical presentation in the restored Fade at five months was nothing exceptional.

For now, he chose not to consider how his son would stack up in the magical hierarchy—because in this new world it shouldn't matter. No one would come and take Sylvun away, either to a Circle or to be trapped in servitude in either the upper, or lower, classes.

Pressing close to Sylvun, Solas nuzzled the baby and kissed his little forehead. Sylvun's soft hair brushed his lips. "Shall we find mamae?" he asked softly.

Sylvun reached out for his face, grabbing at his chin and giggling. "Bah," he said.

Wisps darted about the canopy, flitting in and out of the leaves. It was dusk, with the last rays of golden sunshine streaming in through the trees. Curious wisps darted in and out of the sunbeams, glimmering green-white as they caught the light. Solas watched them at play, as innocent and joyful as Sylvun, and smiled at the sight—something he had not thought he would see again without the utter destruction of Thedas.

Lavellan clan and a few other representatives from other clans and a number of Elvhen were gathered in the clearing beneath one of the countless enormous trees in the Emerald Graves. Dark gray rock formations were scattered about the edge of the clearing to the east. The People had painted it with runes that drew energy from the Fade to create a pristine, soft white glow as the darkness began to gather with the setting sun. Orbs of veilfire glowed overhead as well, hovering like enormous fireflies.

The People waited in clumps, chattering animatedly. Everywhere Solas looked, he saw smiles. Even Lerand and his father seemed bright where they worked with the hearth keeper over the bonfire, preparing the celebratory meal to come. Lanya, the Elvhen artist Solas had long been acquainted with and used as a spy in the winter palace a year ago, was with them as well, teaching them simple food enchantments.

"Anxious, falon?" Mathrel asked from just behind him.

Solas pivoted slightly to cast a quick glance at the arcane warrior, one brow arched. Mathrel stood beside Lyris, both of them out of their armor for once. Abelas stood a bit further back from the two arcane warriors, his eyes scanning the crowd as if for danger. Even now the former sentinel wouldn't relax. The trio of Elvhen warriors looked markedly diminished in nothing but tunics and breeches.

"And why would I be anxious?" Solas asked.

"Stage fright," Mathrel suggested with a shrug. "You could forget your lines. Wouldn't that be embarrassing?"

It had been a challenge working out just what he and Ellana would say at this handfast ceremony. Normally the Keeper, who stood just a few meters away talking with her brother, Negan, would bless the union and the couple would make vows to Sylaise. But Solas found no value in such a vow, considering he had met the actual Evanuris and knew her to have been somewhat of a pansexual hedonist who rarely spent a night with just her husband's company. She did have countless children, however, so the Dalish had remembered her correctly in that aspect as a patron of childbirth. Keeper Deshanna and Ellana had had to work out a brand new tradition to accommodate Solas—and hopefully future generations as the People accepted the truth about their false-gods.

"After the great deal of time ma vhenan and I spent on these vows, I doubt I will ever forget them," Solas commented with a chuckle.

Lyris shifted from one foot to the other, her lips quirking and her jaw clenching. In the changing light of dusk she looked surprisingly ashen. Noticing her, Solas frowned. "Are you well?"

"Oh no," Mathrel said, reaching for her, but Lyris pulled away from him, stepping back toward the tree behind them. She stumbled over the uneven ground and roots, but Abelas caught and steadied her. "Leave her be," Mathrel called to Abelas. "She's—"

Before he could say more, Lyris pushed Abelas away and bent double, gagging as she vomited onto the ferns between the tree roots. With a snarl of disgust over his face, Abelas quickly backpedaled to be clear of any spatter.

Solas glanced to Mathrel, flashing a look of amusement intermixed with suspicion. "Am I correct in guessing that congratulations may be in order for you both?" With the Fade restored here there were no illnesses to cause such sickness, and unless Lyris was already imbibing in too much alcohol or eating questionable foods or herbs, he could think of no other explanation other than…

Mathrel's face lit up with a broad smile. "Yes." He watched over his shoulder, his expression growing tender as Lyris returned, wiping her mouth and grimacing even as her eyes softened with love. Mathrel extended his hand out and Lyris took it, squeezing.

"Congratulations. I wish you good health and a perfect child," Solas said, dipping his head in an exaggerated nod. "I know how dearly you both have longed for this moment." He paused a moment then and said, "Perhaps you would like some mint, Lyris?"

Lyris laughed. "Falon, I thought you'd never ask." As Solas dug into a small pouch at his waist to produce the mint leaf, Lyris added, "I am glad we achieved some measure of peace as quickly as we did. Sylvun is such a joy that I've been worried I would take leave of my senses and abduct him."

"That is not funny," Abelas grumbled with a scowl.

Solas chuckled, shaking his head as he passed Lyris the mint leaf.

Popping the mint into her mouth, Lyris scoffed good-naturedly at the former sentinel. "Lana's human friends are right about you being aptly named."

"The term they used was killjoy," Mathrel put in. "And ma vhenan is correct that it is accurate."

"My name is Abelas," Abelas reminded them sourly…though his lips quirked upward at the edge slightly.

"Then we will just have to select you a new name, won't we?" Solas suggested, his smile going lopsided.

"In time," Abelas hedged. "I will do so."

A cheer went up through the crowd and Solas turned, tensing and moving into position in front of the tree to see around the throng. The clan let out throaty calls, ululations that were musical and wild at once. Peeking through the aisle the clan created, Solas saw a group of elves approaching through the soft green-white light of the glade.

Mahanon was at the lead, regal in his Keeper robes. The clan reached out to touch him as he passed, their faces warm with affection for the young man who would someday lead their clan. Mahanon's eyes locked with Solas and he grinned as he stepped off to one side to stand beside Deshanna in presiding over the ceremony. Behind Mahanon was Ashani, her tunic clinking with beads as she followed after her son, her face beaming with pride. Behind her was Ellana approaching with Sylvun in her arms.

Solas' gaze swept over her, his heart seeming to swell in his chest. She wore a dress made of halla leather, as white and pristine as snow with a tiara of white flowers. At her throat, Solas saw the stormheart arrowhead he'd given her that night well over a year ago—the night they'd most likely inadvertently conceived Sylvun. He felt his cheeks heat with the reminder. Sylvun in her arms wore fennec fox fur and had both chubby little arms around Ellana's neck, holding tightly to her.

"Vhenan," Solas greeted her, leaning close to touch his forehead to hers. Ellana's eyes glimmered as she smiled at him.

Sylvun squealed and swatted at Solas' jaw. "Bah! Mah, bah!"

"Aneth ara, ma ishalen," Solas greeted Sylvun next, kissing the baby's forehead.

"Can you say hello to babae?" Ellana coaxed, shucking under Sylvun's chin. He giggled and squirmed as far away from her as he could manage.

"Ashani," Deshanna called gently, motioning to Ellana's mother and indicating Sylvun. "If you would take him for a moment…"

Ashani nodded and stepped forward, extending her arms for Sylvun. Ellana passed the baby to her, ruffling his auburn hair affectionately. Sylvun whimpered slightly as he settled into his grandmother's arms, but Ashani quieted him with a plush stuffed animal—a wolf. She stepped back to take a position beside Mahanon, representing Ellana's family in the ceremony just as Solas' Elvhen trio—Abelas, Lyris, and Mathrel—did for him. Sylvun gummed the wolf plush and kneaded it with his little fists as Deshanna began the ceremony. Solas could tell by the way his son's eyelids were beginning to droop that he would soon fall asleep, perhaps even for the duration of the night.

"Welcome Lavellan," Deshanna began, raising both arms up in a friendly gesture like an embrace aimed at the whole group. "Aneth ara my family, and andaran atish'an fellow members of the People. Tonight we are gathered here in recognition of love, of commitment, and of devotion as our daughter Ellana joins her life with another of the People." She paused a moment, lowering her hands to her side and shooting Solas a wry smile. "Typically I would now proclaim him to be a son of Lavellan, but I suspect no one clan can claim a man as notable as Solas."

Solas nodded to her, restraining the desire to smirk knowingly at her. This, as with the vows, had been a tricky thing to work out. No one knew exactly how it'd be received if Deshanna overtly used Solas' title. The Dalish had accepted him as a leader for his enormous power, but the idea of one of their own taking the Dread Wolf as a life partner might still be…unsettling. It was easier all around if they deliberately left Solas' title out and focused on the fact that they were two people, celebrating their handfast.

Yet, now, it seemed even this slight reminder of who and what Solas truly was had inspired the group. The people gathered behind them cheered at the Keeper's comment and some of them murmured Solas' Evanuris name under their breath. Perhaps clan Lavellan, at least, was ready to completely forget that the Dread Wolf had been a malevolent, evil god.

Deshanna's eyes swept over the crowd, assessing them with an amused look. Solas kept his attention fixed on Ellana's face, staring into her eyes as his heart pounded in his ears as Deshanna pulled the silken fabric for the ritual handfast from its spot tied around her waist. Stepping closer to Solas and Ellana, she took their clasped hands by the wrists and began to wind the fabric over their hands. She extended it up their forearms on both sides, then wound it back to meet in the middle and tied it tightly in a knot.

As Deshanna moved back a step, her smile warm and encouraging, she said, "Ellana, da'len, do you consent to join with this man?"

"I do," Ellana answered, her smile beaming. Her hand squeezed his beneath the knotted silken fabric. "I vow in the name of the People and our son to bind everything I am in mind, body, and spirit to you, emma lath." Her eyes glistened in the ghostly veilfire orbs and the glowing runes on the rocks. "To guide you and to love you whatever may come against us. I vow to journey at your side and share every joy and grief, every victory and defeat as we walk the vun'anshiral. Together, bellanaris."

Solas swallowed, struggling to hold back the prick of emotional tears threatening in his eyes. He saw moisture in Ellana's gaze as well and when she blinked, a tear spilled out and rolled down her cheek. So focused on Ellana, Solas almost missed Deshanna addressing him next, prompting him to consent to the joining as well.

"Solas, hahren, do you consent to join with this woman?"

With a quick dip of his chin, Solas nodded as he said, "I do," and launched into his own vows. "I vow in the name of the People and our son to bind everything that I am in mind, body, and spirit to you, ma vhenan." He paused a moment, inhaling swiftly as he spoke his slightly altered version: "I promise to protect you, to listen and love you in whatever trials may come against us. I vow to journey at your side and share every joy and grief, every victory and defeat. We will walk the vun'anshiral together, bellanaris."

A few people in the crowd let out little whoops and whistles, recognizing that this concluded the majority of the handfast and celebration was imminent, but Solas had eyes only for Ellana. Deshanna stepped forward again, gripping the silken fabric with its knot with both hands, one above and the other below. "Then I bestow my blessing and the blessing of clan Lavellan on this bond. May your joy be eternal and your losses few. May you bless the clan—and the People—with healthy children who will create a brighter future for us all. May this union endure eternal with the blessing of the People."

Solas felt his skin tingle as Deshanna summoned spirit magic, her palms glowing overtop of theirs in a deep green. The silk flushed warm against his skin and then Deshanna removed her hands and the fabric unraveled, letting her pull it free. The Keeper produced a knife that glinted in the whitish light of the runes and quickly cut the fabric in half at the middle. She tucked the first half over Ellana's head and then did the same with the remainder for Solas. Now the pale silk hung about their necks like a pair of scarfs, to be sewn later into clothing, weapons, or tools in remembrance.

Now the crowd quieted with respect, waiting for the last step of the handfast ceremony. With his heart pressing against his breastbone, Solas edged closer to Ellana, still clasping her hand in his as they leaned into one another. Their foreheads touched first and then their noses as they closed the gap for a deep kiss. Her lips were warm and soft, her taste sweet and inviting, but Solas kept his passion tabled for now and broke the kiss after a few heartbeats, though he didn't draw away. Her breath puffed against his cheeks, carrying a minty smell that made his stomach flutter with longing.

Deshanna raised her hands high then and shouted, "Nehn shiral," she proclaimed. Joyful journey. The phrase acted as a formal goodbye, a signal to end the handfast ceremony and begin of the celebration. The crowd crowed and cheered, clapping their hands and repeating the words back to the Keeper, the sound echoing from the underside of the canopy and off the rocks. The wisps thrummed and buzzed, reacting to the excitement.

Solas stroked Ellana's cheek tenderly, still leaning close to her. The noise of the clan and everyone else in the crowd seemed distant and faraway. "Ar lath ma," he whispered to her. "Bellanaris."

"Bellanaris," she agreed, her lips quivering slightly. "Ma vhenan."

Ellana sat beneath the light runes on a halla skin blanket beside Solas as well-wishers and gift-givers funneled by, many of them more than a little tipsy from wine. Having sipped some of it herself, Ellana had discovered someone had been enchanting it—a recent but popular trick the Dalish had picked up from the scattered Elvhen survivors among them. The fuzzy, warm pulse of elation still flowed through her, making her giggle at the slightest provocation.

Negan and some of the others from Lavellan clan had begun singing and playing the few musical instruments they owned and this inspired the wisps in attendance to harmonize with them. The air was filled with sound, achingly beautiful and breathtaking, sweeter than the drill of crickets, or the song of birds and frogs. Looking at Solas beside her, seeing his smiling face and deep blue eyes in the soft light from the runes, Ellana felt her heart ache with joy. This hauntingly beautiful music by the wisps was an unexpected boon she and the People had discovered—or rediscovered in the case of the Elvhen—about the restored Fade.

Sylvun lay across her lap, sleeping after nursing. The music seemed to work as a lullaby for him and all of the other small children present. Deya was asleep as well where she sat with Rinaya, Mahanon, and Ellana's mother a few meters away. Despite the fact that Sylvun appeared to be sleeping, his little hand was at Ellana's waist, picking idly at the pouches she wore at her belt even in the decorative white halla skin dress.

Having eaten their fill of august ram meat from the bonfire, most of the clan had fallen to socializing in one way or another. Groups chatted or played casting games with veilfire, a new pastime that'd been introduced by the Elvhen. Others danced or sang, moving in circles around the bonfire, their shadows flickering in the orange light. More than a few had peeled away into the darkness, seeking some measure of privacy. One such couple who'd vanished in that way were Lyris and Mathrel, much to Ellana's amusement.

When it seemed they'd received the last well-wisher and gift-giver, Ellana leaned close to Solas—moving slow and with care to avoid disturbing the mostly sleeping Sylvun in her lap—and whispered in his ear. "How long do you wish to stay, emma lath?"

Solas turned his face to hers, a smile spreading over his lush lips and a hungry look in his blue eyes. Over the months since Celene had granted them the Dales their lives had been full to the brim with responsibilities for the People as they expanded the restored Fade and dealt with hostile or stubborn Orlesians who refused to believe they'd be evicted from their lands come the following spring. Celene had so far held up her proclamation, though it was immensely unpopular, and Briala had made several visits to Halamshiral to pass along information or warnings to Ellana and Solas. Combined with raising Sylvun, it all amounted to very little time for romance or physical intimacy—outside their dreams, anyway.

Instead of answering her aloud, Solas kissed her, conveying his eagerness and hunger clearly enough with the way he tasted her mouth through her parted lips and laid a palm over her cheek. His breath was hot and fast as Ellana opened more to the kiss, sucking at his lower lip and then sparring with his tongue. He tasted of a delicious mixture of mint leaves and wine, making her head spin and something bubble in her chest. Probably more laughter brought on by the remnants of the wine enchantment.

And then, suddenly, Ellana heard a high-pitched chiming and felt a sort of ripple through her middle. Breaking the kiss even as she was still panting from the rush of anticipation and longing, she fumbled at her waist, her brow creasing with a frown.

"Vhenan?" Solas asked, alarm coloring his voice.

Sylvun stirred with a baby grunt and Ellana saw his chubby little hand withdraw from the pouch at her waist that contained the sending crystal from Dorian. "Sylvun, you little scoundrel," she admonished playfully. Clucking her tongue, she dug the crystal out of his little clenched fist and found it had lit up in white, flashing in rhythm with the chimes.

"Let me take him," Solas said and reached for the baby.

Sylvun sleepily whimpered as he realized he was being pulled from his mother's lap, but when he registered Solas he grinned and let out a groggy giggle. "Bah," he babbled.

Pulling out the crystal, Ellana clutched it in her fist and the chiming stopped as, a second later, Dorian's voice rang out instead. "Lana? Ellana, old girl, are you there?"

Casting Solas a sheepish look, Ellana answered, "Yes, Dorian, I'm here." Pausing a moment as she bit her lip, Ellana asked, "Is something wrong?"

The moment of silence stretched and Ellana frowned, sneaking a quick glance at Solas to gauge his reaction and finding him distracted with tickling Sylvun. The baby giggled and squirmed, his peals of high-pitched laughter drawing a wide grin from Solas. How miraculous and yet simultaneously natural it was to watch him playing with their son. The sight of it warmed her heart with a bittersweet ache, considering how close they'd come to never sharing this joy. If Ellana had been consumed by the Anchor, or refused to join him after learning his true identity, or been killed in one of the assassination attempts on them…

"What is that?" Dorian's tinny voice called out over the crystal. "Are you all right, Lana? Are you under attack?"

Blinking with surprise, Ellana shook her head, though of course Dorian would never see it. "No, Dorian, everything's fine here. That's just Sylvun you're hearing."

"Oh," Dorian said, a note of surprise in his voice. "Well, it sounds as though someone's being murdered over the crystal. Now, why was it you called me, love?"

"I called you?" Ellana asked, chuckling as she arched an eyebrow in Solas' direction.

This time Solas met her gaze, still smiling from playing with Sylvun. "I believe it was Sylvun who activated the crystal."

"Oh," Ellana said and laughed. "Did you hear that Dorian? Sylvun called you."

"Well," Dorian said with a sniff. "The lad has good taste then, I suppose. Though it seems he's already following in his father's footsteps, what with calling me and then cutting it off. Not even a year old and pranking me."

Ellana scoffed. "Really, Dorian. It was an accident. If he could speak he'd apologize for interrupting you."

Solas shot the crystal clutched in Ellana's hand a withering look but said nothing, turning his attention back to the baby. He conjured a tiny veilfire orb in his palm and held it out for Sylvun, grinning as their son batted at it only to have his hand pass through it. Sylvun's eyes went wide, his mouth ajar, and then he broke out into a toothless grin and giggled again.

Dorian had fallen silent a moment and then said, "While I have you here, Lana—"

A deep, rumbling voice cut in over the crystal. "Aren't you going to tell her I'm here?"

"Iron Bull?" Ellana asked and laughed. "How are you?"

"Good, Boss," he replied, sounding happy. "Dorian and a few of his buddies in the Magisterium hired the Chargers as bodyguards. He's working his ass off trying to change this place, you know."

Watching Solas, who seemed deaf to the conversation as he continued entertaining Sylvun with simple magic tricks, Ellana said, "I'm pleased to hear that. I wish you both the best."

"Oh, he's already got that," Iron Bull quipped with a low, sensual chuckle.

Dorian scoffed and Ellana heard the clap of flesh on flesh as Dorian likely swatted Iron Bull playfully. "Don't be so sure, you horned giant."

"I think you mean horny giant," Iron Bull retorted, eliciting laughter from Dorian in the background.

Ellana clasped a hand over her lips as she felt her cheeks flare with heat.

Proving he'd in fact been paying perfect attention, Solas turned his head toward the crystal and spoke at it in a louder than necessary voice, "Perhaps you should leave the two of them, vhenan. It is late and we must be getting Sylvun to bed."

"Yes," Ellana agreed, still blushing. "Solas is right, but it was a pleasure talking with you both. We'll have to do this again soon."

"For once I agree with Solas too," Iron Bull said, voice still husky. "I have to get Dorian to bed, if you know what I mean."

Solas rolled his eyes and Dorian protested in the background, though his voice had an edge of humor, as though holding back laughter. "Have you no shame?"

"Nope," Iron Bull replied and then he said, "It was nice talking with you, Boss. Tell the kiddie I said hi."

"I will, Bull," Ellana said. The crystal's light faded then, winking out. Tucking it back into the leather pouch at her waist, Ellana saw Solas' gaze on her, warm and tender—but with a glint of hunger still. Sylvun was cuddled in his lap, fast falling asleep even as one chubby fist toyed with his father's tunic sleeve. Spotting Rinaya, Mahanon, and her mother still sitting nearby with Deya, Ellana asked, "Shall we let ba'isamalin, ma'isamalin, and mamaela take da'fen while we retire, emma lath?" she asked, her voice low and sultry.

Smiling, Solas leaned close and kissed her, tender and deep. When he broke the kiss he murmured, "I suppose I can be convinced to relinquish ma ishalen for a time." He paused, the glimmer of smoldering heat in his eyes intensifying. "But only for you."

Laughing softly, Ellana kissed him quickly, then got to her feet and watched as Solas did the same, though with greater care as he held Sylvun. She followed him over to her mother, Rinaya, and Mahanon, who took sleepy little Sylvun with mischievous smiles spreading over their lips.

"Off to make more children for the People?" Mahanon asked with a smirk and a wink.

"You first," Ellana challenged him, chuckling while Solas ignored the banter and kissed Sylvun's forehead, bidding him goodbye for the night in his grandmother's arms.

"In due time, asamalin," Mahanon said, grinning. "Then you and Solas can be our babysitters."

With Sylvun safe they headed out into the darkness, circumnavigating the bonfire. Deshanna and a few other members of the clan let out cheers of encouragement as they passed. Milky moonlight streamed in through the canopy, and the whispery humming of wisps filled the air as they walked up the trampled path, hand-in-hand. They'd selected this spot because of its nearness to a sizable chateau that'd been taken peacefully in the winter. Hundreds of elves had stayed in it during those cold winter months, including Ellana whenever she and Solas hadn't been restoring the Fade.

As they passed through the iron wrought gates encircling the chateau, Ellana heard moans through the dark. Glancing off the path to the gardens, which had been left to grow wild and untamed all year, she saw a couple seated together on a decorative stone bench, clearly engaged in lovemaking.

Blushing, she turned back to the path and giggled. "I think Han is right that a lot of children will be made tonight."

Casting a swift look in that direction, Solas slowed, brow knitting a moment before a smirk twisted his lips and he turned away. "Perhaps I have spent too long as Fen'Harel in recent days as I cannot help but worry how we will feed so many new mouths."

She nodded, sobering at the reminder before shrugging and squeezing his hand. "Well, no one has starved yet."

"Nor do I intend to allow that to happen," Solas murmured, the crease between his eyebrows forming again. Clearly his mind was on the challenges that lay ahead for the People.

Determined to rectify that, Ellana pivoted to step into his path, stopping their forward progress as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "You think too much, emma lath. Tonight is for joy." She lifted onto her tiptoes to kiss him and Solas ducked down to meet her halfway.

Solas pressed closer, one hand snaking around her waist and falling to her rump while the other trailed up her arm. His fingers slowed as they went, caressing as he reached her shoulder and slid along her collarbone. Ellana shivered, a warm chill passing through her. When his fingers met with the strap of the stormheart arrowhead he'd given her over a year ago back in Skyhold, she felt the tingle of magic pass over her anew.

Breaking the kiss, Solas peered down at her with an expression that was both surprised and amused. His fingers followed the strap to the arrowhead itself, the magic coming alive at his touch and distracting her with the pleasurable sensation. "Did you intend us to be among the couples making children tonight?" he asked, arching his brow.

She grinned, coy and playful as she lifted one hand and trailed her fingers over his jaw. "I had planned to take it off or ask you to change the enchantment."

The but in her voice was obvious and Solas chuckled. "Is that doubt I hear?"

She cocked her head slightly, smiling at the teasing lilt of his tone. "I will yield to your desires on this topic."

"And what if I were to say I did not want any more children?" Solas asked her quietly.

Surprised by the question, Ellana frowned, bemused. From the very start, despite the surprise of Sylvun's conception, Solas had been a doting father. Ellana had never considered he might not want to have additional children, considering how greatly he seemed to enjoy his first. Solas tended to take Sylvun with him everywhere, his only limitation was that the baby required frequent nursing and that was the one thing his father could not provide. If Solas could have nursed Sylviun, Ellana half-expected he'd have absconded with their son from the start. The growing crowds in the Dales had never seemed to agree with Solas, who preferred solitude or small groups. Ellana could never seem to escape communal living comparatively.

The glint of warmth in Solas' eyes caught her attention then and she realized the question must be more playful than serious. She laid her hands on his chest, slowly rubbing upward toward the exposed skin around his neck. "I would ask you to reconsider," she answered in a sultry whisper. With one arm rising up to slip around his neck, she eased him closer to her and stood on tiptoe to better match his height. She nuzzled his jawline, just to the right of his chin. "Because it would be a travesty for Sylvun to be an only-child."

"But I was an only-child," Solas reasoned in a deep, husky voice. He tilted his head, leaning into her touch, his breath puffing against her ear faster now. "You will have to be more convincing than that, vhenan."

She nipped at his jaw and then transitioned to his ear, using her lips to caress it. Solas shuddered, his breath hitching in his throat as she whispered, "Because you are a wonderful father." She nibbled down to his neck; relishing the feel of the dimpled gooseflesh she felt erupting all over his skin.

Breaking off, she pulled back enough to meet his eye with a sultry smile as she added, "And because we should have at least one child now that we're truly bonded, don't you think? We have to prove once and for all that my former wandering Fade-expert is the man bedding me and fathering my children. Aside from Sylvun, of course, who is clearly Commander Cullen's get."

Solas laughed, shaking his head. A moment later he pressed close and kissed her, fierce and passionate. Ellana curled her body against his, feeling the hard lump of his arousal beneath his breeches pressed against her navel. Breathy and flushed with the heat of longing, she tried to keep the kiss going even after Solas withdrew and touched his forehead to hers to say, "When you put it that way, I suppose you are correct. We must keep up with appearances, after all."

"As Lady Vivienne would say," Ellana murmured with a snort.

"Indeed," Solas agreed, his eyes skipping over her had gone black as the pupils expanded. His fingers slid along the strap of the arrowhead necklace and clasped where it was secured. "But perhaps we might give Sylvun some time to grow, first?"

Ellana pressed her lips to the base of his throat, sighing at the rich scent of his skin, the male musk. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

She felt Solas remove the necklace and pull gently away, tucking it into a pocket. Away from her it should have no effect on their fertility as Solas was not the one who wore a charm to ward against conception. Solas' hands slid over her cheeks and Ellana let him tilt her head back to kiss her, long and tender, stoking the gradually building coals of desire deep within her.

Then, from in the shadows of the garden, the couple currently engrossed in lovemaking began to grow louder as one or both reached the crest of pleasure. Red-faced at the inadvertent breech of privacy, both Ellana and Solas broke their kiss, smirking at one another over the sounds. Solas murmured, "Perhaps we should find a more…private location?"

"Your wish is my command, emma lath," she replied with a knowing grin.

They found the villa's master bedroom unoccupied and clean, having been cared for by members of clan Lavellan and others in rotating shifts. Someday, when they had enough Dreamers and weren't occupied with more important tasks like constructing a defensive perimeter around the Dales, the villa would be reshaped to better suit elven tastes. For now it was still Orlesian, decadent and ornate with marble floors and deep blue carpets and drapes. Light streamed in from the moon overhead, tinged with green and pink, the colors of the restored Fade. The bed was enormous, easily big enough for four elves to share with room to spare.

Solas led her to it, his hand clasped over hers as it had been during the ceremony. When Ellana squeezed it Solas rounded to face her, finding her smiling tenderly. He returned it, feeling desire coiling within, the delicious ache of anticipation. Stepping close, he brushed his lips over hers and then slid teasingly along her jaw toward her ear. Ellana curled into him, her breath picking up. He could almost feel her pulse pounding, just beneath his lips.

"Falon'saota," he whispered in her ear. It was the term for bondmate, for husband and wife. She shivered, caressing her hands up his chest as she nuzzled his jawline in turn. Solas relished the warm thrill that raced through him as he felt her hot breath on his earlobe.

"Mmm," she purred. "I could get used to being called that." She repeated it, seeming to taste the term as she replied it back. "Falon'saota."

He moved to touch his lips along her jaw and to her cheek, returning to her lips to kiss her with all the eagerness twining inside him. Ellana returned it, opening to him, tasting him as he did the same to her. One hand slid around her waist, dropping low to press her tighter against him, craving friction against his already hard length.

One of her hands slid beneath his tunic, the touch eliciting a small, sharp breath in at the slight chill of it. She made a noise of amusement against his lips, apparently satisfied at his reaction. Two could play at such a game, and he had many years of experience giving him an advantage.

Without breaking the heated kiss, Solas slipped his own hand low to where her white halla dress ended in a frill of decorating embroidery and beading. Fingers inched beneath the hem and roved up to her hips, taking the fabric with it. The beads tinkled, musical as water, and Ellana moaned against his lips as he trailed his fingernails up the inside of her thigh. She shivered body-wide and he felt the dimpling of gooseflesh at her thigh.

When he caressed upward, brushing past her hipbone, he realized she wore no undergarments, only smooth, naked skin like silk that begged for his touch. He traced higher, teasingly delicate, over her ribs one nub at a time, then gently cupped the bottom of her breast only to find it naked as well. He made a low noise of appreciation in his throat and, unable to help himself, palmed the full breast.

She broke the kiss, grabbing at his hand and smirking at him in the dimness of the bedroom as she shook her head and clucked her tongue in reprimand. "You know better than to—"

He chuckled, cutting her off as he dropped his hand back to her waist in surrender. "I know better," he agreed, voice low and husky. She was still lactating and things could quickly get messy if he was careless, but it was difficult not to be fascinated—and aroused—by this change to her body that he had yet to grow accustomed to.

"Good," she said, grinning. Her hands gripped his length through his breeches and Solas gasped before swallowing the sound and pressing close for another long, passionate kiss. When he broke it he nipped and kissed at her throat. She moaned, her head falling back to give him better access. Her hands, still on his manhood, rubbed along his underside, sending waves of heat through him at the friction.

When she continued the rapid motions over him and he felt the sparking tingle of magic wash through him, abruptly pushing him dangerously close to release, he gasped out, "And you should know better…" Her hands on him stilled, but the magic continued to flow and Solas shuddered, a low moan rising from his throat. Speaking into the crook of her neck, Solas rasped, "You have been practicing."

"I have been practicing," she agreed, nipping at his earlobe. For months now Solas had been teaching her in the dreaming how to incorporate magic into the carnal act, a delight he had not been able to experience or share with a partner since the fall of Elvhenan. Her inexperience in magic had made her a slow learner, but the journey and exploration of teaching her was as erotic—or possibly more so—than participating in it.

Still, he would of course have to show her how a true master did it.

Crushing his lips to hers, Solas moved his hand under her dress to brush his fingertips down the silken length of her belly, summoning spirit magic as he went and shaping it with his will into pure desire. She shook as it sank into her skin and moaned loudly as his hand brushed over her slick folds.

"Fenedhis," she cursed between ragged breaths and sloppy kisses.

Solas chuckled, low with satisfaction and broke the kiss to look at her, grinning with triumph. "Is something the matter, vhenan?"

"No," she said, panting breathily. "Everything's perfect…except…" She laughed and tugged at his breeches with fresh urgency, freeing him as he steered her toward the bed. He had to shuffle awkwardly to kick the breeches aside, distracted as he was with shaping the magic over her skin. The kiss broke and Ellana reached for his tunic, trying to pull it off him. Solas helped her, ending the flow of magic to toss the offending garment behind him before turning to help her do the same—only to find she had already shimmied out of the dress and tossed it at the foot of the bed.

"Ever impatient," he teased her, eyes wandering over her with appreciation. Anticipation churned his stomach and set his erection aching, pulsing with every beat of his pounding heart.

She pressed close, eyes hungry, kissing him quickly and then pulling back before he'd had a chance to drink his fill. Hooking a leg around his thighs, she fell backward onto the bed and Solas let her take him with her.

Perched over her, Solas nuzzled her neck, trailing kisses downward. Ellana's breath puffed against his scalp, her hands wove around his waist and gripped at his back. Her back arched, her hips tilting to move against his tip, inviting and teasing him with her warmth. Though there was no magic in what she did, Solas groaned with longing, feeling the slick heat tempting him.

Rather than enter her just yet, he continued kissing his way down from her throat, along her shoulder and collarbone, and then to her breast. He traced it with his tongue, delighting in the fullness of it, soft and supple and smelling sweet like her milk. Her hands dug into the muscles down his back, a noise like a cat's purr trilling from her as he brushed his lips and then his tongue teasingly over her hardened nipple.

Gripping his hips with her thighs, Ellana tried to sit up and Solas curled his arm under her back, supporting her as she moved into his lap and lunged to meet his lips in a ravenous kiss. The heat of her entrance as she took him inside her set him gasping against her mouth. He heard her throaty laugh as she began to rock over his length and gnashed his teeth as pleasure spread out through him with each movement. Holding her hips with one hand and using the other to help her stay upright on his lap, Solas thrust with her, staying deep to rub over her just right. He watched her face as her eyelids fluttered and her plump lips parted to moan.

"Solas," she said, breathing his name. Her lips were at his chin, her hips grinding over him. Feeling her slick walls gripping him, moving with increasing speed and urgency, Solas' thoughts fragmented and scattered. Grunting with effort, he focused on holding back, on not losing control. His fingers gripped her hips, holding her down against him and guiding her while with the other hand he stroked low on her belly, conjuring magic.

Her breath caught, staggered as the magic sank into her. She cursed and then said something that might've been his name and those sounds of bliss threatened to undo him. Fighting to concentrate, to keep himself from going over the edge, Solas' fingers moved lower to rub between her thighs, at her most sensitive spot with a flick of the same magic.

She gasped, bucking over him, her fingers digging into his shoulders with a bruising grip. Her hips moved over him faster, wild and wanton, and Solas felt the hot coil of pleasure inside him ballooning, racing toward the precipice.

He moaned her name through clenched teeth and tried to hang on, pouring magic into her—only to feel her touch sparking with magic as well. It surged through him, liquid bliss, annihilating higher thoughts and any semblance of control. As he cried out at the top of his lungs, his muscles seizing as the waves of his climax pounded over him, Solas dimly heard Ellana follow him, her moaning reaching a crescendo that mimicked the motion of her hips. When her slick muscles clamped over him, heightening his pleasure again, Solas gasped into the crook of her shoulder, his body seizing with the force of his release.

They collapsed onto the bed together, still holding each other as the fast, ragged noise of their breaths echoed through the room. Little tremors tore through Solas as he gazed with bleary eyes at Ellana, smiling tenderly. He raised one hand to her cheek, idly tucking her loose lock of hair over her ear and out of her face.

Her green eyes twinkled in the dimness. "Ar lath ma, falon'saota," she said lazily, snuggling closer to him, one arm moving around his waist as she laid her head on his chest.

"Ar lath ma," he answered, stroking his fingers up and down her bare back as he let out a husky chuckle and added, "Falon'saota." He closed his eyes, feeling the dreaming call to him.

Tomorrow and the next few days the clan would celebrate and, barring any unforeseen attacks or disasters, they would see peace and quiet reign over the next week or two. But then responsibility would draw them back to serving the People once again. They needed to restore the Fade to the rest of the Dales and contend with Orlais if the empress refused to uphold her word in the coming months. They needed to establish agriculture and construct new homes and towns to house the People, for those present now, those who had yet to arrive, and those who had not yet been born. Creating chaos had been easy compared to generating and enforcing order.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Solas sighed, letting himself relax though his fingers didn't still on Ellana's back. "I will see you in the Fade, ma vhenan," he whispered.

Her palm dragged its way up from his waist, caressing his skin until they reached his chest. She splayed her fingers there and let out a contented hum in the back of her throat. "Always," she answered drowsily. "Always."

A/N: Because I still haven't hammered out my problems with an epilogue, I thought I'd post a sneak preview of the other story I'm working on...a slight-AU prequel to Inquisition tentatively titled "Solas the Circle Mage." This is well into the story when our favorite storytelling rogue makes an appearance.

"You're no mage," Solas pointed out, staring at the dwarf with curiosity. "Why are you imprisoned in this Circle?"

"I'm not trapped in this Circle, exactly. I'm…uh, kind of a…hostage, I guess, more than a prisoner." He flashed a tight grin. "See, I'm from Kirkwall and I had a close friend involved in the chaos there." Varric kept his tight smile in place as he continued: "And that brought me to the Divine's personal attention." He winced. "And so she sent her pet Seeker, Cassandra Pentaghast, after me."

"Seeker Pentaghast?" Tal interjected, beaming. "The Lady Seeker the tower's been whispering about?" His voice took on a note of reverence. "The Seeker of Truth." Leaning closer to Varric, he said quietly, "Rosa and I shouldn't be here. We're Dalish, on our way to join another clan. Can the Seeker help set us free?"

Rosa started to interrupt, shaking her head vehemently. "Tal, don't start," she warned. Her violet eyes landed on Solas and stayed there, crinkling with something like concern.

She fears Varric will be able to influence this Seeker into setting them free, he realized. Such good fortune would be a wonderful surprise and boon for the Dalish siblings, but it didn't help Solas any. Rosa had apparently been genuine in her claim that she would owe him a life-debt. It seemed she had no intention of leaving him alone in this tower, even if it endangered herself and Tal.