Prophecies Cannot Be Changed (Solas x OFC)

Folk shalt love thee not

Interlude

Fen'harel groaned as he regained his consciousness and immediately wished he hadn't.

There was a weight on his torso, making it difficult to breathe. But that somehow didn't bother him as much as a pounding headache, nausea and taste of blood in his mouth. His limbs were heavy and the light shone offensively at his strained eyes and brain.

The Wolf opened his eyes and blinked a few times. It didn't surprise him that he failed to recognise the room he was in. It also didn't surprise him that he failed to recognize the elvhen woman sleeping on his chest. He didn't know how he had gotten himself a split lip... Or actually, he knew - there was a golden ring shining on her finger. Well, her bonded might have had her hand, but judging by the love bites left on her body – the Wolf had had the rest.

He rolled to his left side and almost collided with a man sleeping there, also naked and passed out from alcohol. Judging by his bite marks on the man's ass, that must have been a fine night indeed.

The elf got up from the bed and almost immediately caught himself against the wall. The floor of the room was awfully uneven. But he had overcome greater difficulties and would not be bested by architecture. They had a meeting with the other Evanuris in a couple of hours - with no afterparty this time, so he had to be at his best. All the cunning and sharp mind. Or something along these lines. His head was killing him.

With some effort - not only the floor was uneven, but the furnishing was moving - outrageous - he found his robes and a pitcher of water.

He used his magic to sober up, but unfortunately, was also rewarded with a more serious hangover. "If only I had more talent for healing magics..." He thought as he quietly crossed the room and left.

He walked through the corridors and quickly realised that he was in one of his only allies' temples - the one that was the most further south, deep in the forest. How did he end up in that hole?

He was just near the eluvian - hopefully the Crossroads will be empty at that hour, when he heard a voice that sparked his interest. He had not heard it before. The elf followed the highs and lows of the voice and found himself in an open garden.

There, just above the pond, was a group of elves with Mythals' vallaslins. They sat in a semicircle, all of their eyes on a single elvhen woman standing in the middle of them, next to a...fade illusion, hanging in the air? Were those numbers? It mattered little what was next to her, for she effortlessly commanded everyone's attention, including his.

She was standing proud, head high, her face bare, a dark crown of braids on her head as she weaved the fade around her fingers. She created a large sphere out of Veilfire and then commanded it to float before her. Then she created two additional spheres and made them orbit around the biggest one in a coordinated, synchronised manner. She then made a few subtle, yet very precise adjustments to the surface of the spheres. She created the enormous oceans, steep mountain ranges, endless forests and rivers, twisted on the surface of the globe like snakes. She then gently pushed the whole system into the group of people so that they could freely trace the harmless magic.

She had laid the world within their reach. Free, beautiful and boundless, ready to be explored and loved. If only that was the truth.

He was so focused that he didn't notice a woman behind him.

"You smell like something fermented inside you." Mythal started with a displeased voice as a greeting. "And Nordima's bonded? Really? In my temple??? June would not be pleased."