Chapter 1: The Return of Fen'Harel

Marcus didn't know what to say. Solas stood in front of him with his hands folded behind his back, his face passive, staring at him with those strange elven eyes. He was flanked by Cullen and Blackwall, at least they had the restraint to keep their swords in their scabbards. Bull on the other hand already had his axe out, and his knuckles stood out white against the wooden haft. Marcus was certain he could hear the giant qunari grinding his teeth in frustration. Dorian stood off to one side, his fingers were twitching, tiny sparks dancing between them. The other dozen guards in the room looked nervous, but those four men had murder in their eyes. Marcus could tell they were just looking for any excuse to lash out. Solas didn't give them one. He stood perfectly still, not even his eyes moved. Marcus had no idea whether or not Solas even felt threatened. He doubted it, considering the power he had demonstrated at their last meeting over a year ago at Val Chevin.

The memory made Marcus grimace. He looked down at his hand, or where his hand should have been. The sleeve of his uniform was folded up and pinned just beneath the elbow. He could still feel his fingers, and some days he would forget he was no longer whole until he tried to pick something up with the stump of his arm. Marcus cringed and returned his gaze to Solas.

"Give us the room," he said quietly. The objections came loud and fast, everyone talking at once.

"You can't be serious!?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, boss."

"With that traitor? Not bloody likely."

Marcus raised his remaining hand and all the voices immediately went quiet. "I said, give us the room." His men shuffled their feet and looked to each other uneasily.

"Inquisitor," Dorian crossed the room and stood at his side, "Don't ask us to leave you alone with him. He cannot be trusted."

"He hasn't tried to turn me to stone, yet," Marcus said. Dorian opened his mouth to protest but Marcus cut him off. "Solas requested a parlay, we will honor that request in the spirit that it was made." Solas blinked and inclined his head slightly, and Marcus returned the nod. Dorian's lips formed words that didn't come out. He looked to Cullen for support, but the commander just sighed and shrugged.

"Very well, Inquisitor," Cullen bowed respectfully. The guards began filing out of the room. Dorian mumbled a curse under his breathe, then he put a hand on Marcus' shoulder. "We'll be right outside," he said. Marcus nodded and Dorian turned to go. He paused for a moment in front of Solas and stared at him with a look that could melt lead. Solas met his gaze with his usual stoic passivity, Marcus tensed as Dorian's hands balled into quivering fists, but he finally broke eye contact and stormed out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Marcus heaved a sigh of relief. The two men stood silently in the room for several minutes, neither seeming to know where to begin.

"Thank you, for saving my life," Marcus finally managed to say through gritted teeth. Solas cocked an eyebrow in surprise and opened his mouth to respond, right before Marcus' fist crashed into his jaw and sent him sprawling to the floor. "And that's for tearing off my arm!" Solas stared up at him, anger flashed across his face for just a moment before his expression returned to its usual calm. He touched his fingertips to his lip and they came away red.

"I supposed I deserved that," Solas said as he picked himself up off the ground. He found a way to make even that action seem dignified. Marcus scowled and walked to the other side of the table, putting it between him and Solas. "There are a lot of good men and women outside that feel you deserve far worse," Marcus said. He folded his arms across his chest and glared, "I am inclined to agree with them." Solas bowed his head and closed his eyes.

"I am truly sorry to hear that," he said.

"What did you expect!?" Marcus asked, in exasperation. "After what you did, what you plan to do? Did you show up here expecting a warm welcome?"

"No, but I am sorry all the same. You are…were…my friend."

"We were all your friends, Solas," Marcus gestured toward the door, "Cullen, Blackwall, Dorian, Bull, all of us! What are we to you now? Just a few more ants that need to be crushed in order to bring about your perfect world?!" Solas looked up at him, his calm demeanor finally melting into one of genuine sorrow.

"You know I do not feel that way," he said, pleading. "If there was any other way…"

"There is another way," Marcus walked around the table and put his hand on Solas' shoulder. "Come back to us, Solas. Abandon this mad quest and help us to make this world better." Solas looked at Marcus' hand, then into his eyes, and then down at the floor, shaking his head. "I fought next to a man who believed that there was good in this world worth fighting for," Marcus continued, "I believe that man still exists, or was he just another lie?" Solas turned his back and walked to the other side of the room.

"That does not matter anymore," he said quietly, "And it is not why I am here."

"Why are you here, Solas?"

"I have come to warn you. A storm is coming, can you not feel it in the air?" He turned to face Marcus, his eyes staring through him, at some point in the distance only he could see. "My dreams have been troubled of late," Solas continued. "The spirits of the Fade are trembling. They hide themselves away and speak only in hushed whispers. The blood of the dragon is rising in the east, they say. The Dragonborn comes to Thedas, and he is bringing fury with him." Marcus stared back at him, feeling suddenly profoundly uneasy.

"That is precious little to go on," he said, "Who or what is the blood of the dragon? The Dragonborn?" Solas shook his head and held out his hands.

"I do not know," he said, "I am not sure even the spirits who fear his coming are certain. I know only that when I walk in the Fade, I now sense something I have never sensed before."

"And what is that?"

"The fear of death." Marcus frowned and shook his head.

"But spirits can die," he said, "We've seen it. We've done it."

"Yes," Solas said, "But death is not a natural part of a spirit's existence. It happens only as a result of interaction with the physical world. Those spirits who have never had such an encounter are fundamentally incapable of comprehending their own mortality, just as you would never comprehend one day turning into a rock."

"Actually, since Val Chevin I have spent considerable time pondering that eventual possibility," Marcus said wryly. Solas frowned.

"I am being serious."

"So am I." Solas shook his head and threw up his hands in consternation. Then his expression changed as a new thought occurred to him.

"You believe you have a soul, yes?" Solas asked.

"Of course," Marcus replied.

"And when you die, you believe that soul will continue to live on in some fashion?"

"I suppose I do," Marcus said frowning, not sure where Solas was going with this.

"You are comforted by the fact that some indelible part of you will continue to exist for all eternity," Solas said. "Now imagine after death, there is nothing. Your soul will be obliterated, your very essence swallowed up by oblivion. That is what the spirits of the Fade are afraid of now, oblivion. Non-existence. They believe that whoever or whatever the Dragonborn is, he can and will destroy them utterly. Imagine what he can do to this world, to flesh and bone." Marcus' eyes narrowed as realization suddenly came over them.

"You're afraid that this Dragonborn will destroy the Fade," he said, slowly walking back around the table. He leaned over it with his one hand resting on the top and fixed Solas with an icy glare. "And if he does, you won't ever be able to restore your world." Solas' eyes widened as Marcus slowly sat in the chair and crossed his legs. He had hit a nerve, and he knew it. "So tell me, why should I stop him from doing that?"

"Because this world will burn as well," Solas said emotionally, "He is not coming alone, he is bringing an army."

"Now he has an army, this thing that you don't even know what it is?" Marcus chuckled. "And where, pray tell, does this army come from? Par Vollen? The Imperium? Ferelden? Where exactly in the east…"

"Across the ocean," Solas cut him off. Marcus put both his feet on the floor and stared at Solas with a new intensity.

"There is nothing across the Amaranthine," he said. "No ship has ever made that voyage and returned."

"Perhaps that is because they found something," Solas said quietly. "Every race has legends of a land beyond the ocean. Even my people in their glory days told tales of it. If those legends are true, why should there not be people there? You know as well as I that the world does not end at the edges of the map. The Fade reflects the physical world around us, which means that the spirits are getting restless because he is getting closer. They are afraid because fear follows him." Solas walked to the table and leaned over it, his arms spread wide. "Do you really think a being that inspires such terror wherever he goes, even beyond the Veil, will be in any way benevolent?" Marcus considered Solas' words and slowly stood, looking him square in the eye.

"So, what then? Shall we join forces like we did against Corypheus, and when we defeat this Dragonborn you go back to trying to destroy our world and I go back to trying to stop you?" Solas stood up straight, looking confused for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and smiled.

"I forgot how full of faith you are, how optimistic of ultimate victory, it is what inspired so many people to follow you," he said quietly, then he averted his eyes. "To tell you the truth, I have not thought that far ahead this time." Marcus just stared in shock as Solas slowly walked over to the window and gazed out at the mountains surrounding them.

"You don't think we'll win," Marcus said in amazement, "You think this Dragonborn will defeat us." Solas did not respond. "Why fight then?" Marcus asked? This elicited a small chuckle from Solas.

"Because I am Fen'Harel," he said simply, "I do not know how to submit. Neither do you, Inquisitor." Marcus was silent as he walked to the window and stood next to Solas.

"There really is another war coming then?" he asked.

"Yes," said Solas, "And I fear it will be like nothing Thedas has ever seen before."

"Do we have any chance at all?" Marcus asked. Solas smiled sadly.

"There is always hope," he said. Marcus only had to look at his eyes to know he didn't believe it. That was enough to send chills down his spine.