Cassandra and Arethin were in bed together when Cassandra asked a question that had been bothering her since the meeting earlier that day.
“Arethin?” Cassandra asked. “What did he mean, the mark is eating you?”
“Oh,” Arethin held up her hand. “Mortals—can't really handle this much magic. If I go on too long with it, it will kill me.”
Cassandra sat up. “What?”
“But, if we take the Veil down, my body might adapt,” Arethin said. “Or at least someone will have enough magic to help me with it.”
“Arethin--!” Cassandra grabbed her hand. “Is there nothing we can do?”
“We could amputate my hand,” Arethin said.
“Then why--?”
“Cassandra, think about it!” Arethin exclaimed. “In a world with the Veil, I'll die of too much magic. But in a world without the Veil, I'd have a better chance. Doesn't that mean the Veil is bad, not the magic?”
Cassandra looked dubious.
Arethin sighed. “Before we do anything, we need to kill Corypheus,” she said. “I'd have a hard time doing that with one hand.”
“I...suppose you are right,” Cassandra sighed. “Although with the variety of things Dagna has been able to make...”
Arethin laughed. “I suppose she could rig me up a new hand.” she quieted. “But I still think it's more...a symptom than a cause. A...an elf like Solas or Abelas or the Sentinels would at least be able to carry the mark without dying of it.”
“Your people are not their people,” Cassandra reminded her. She frowned. “They have made that quite clear.”
“No. They were born without an imposition on them.” Arethin scowled at the mark. “Whatever Solas meant to do by creating the Veil, it hurt us too deeply. Humans too, I think, but I don't know for certain.”
“It is strange—humans were here during the days of Arlathan, at least, according to the stories,” Cassandra eyed the mark. “But we do not have any tales of there being a time before the Veil.”
Arethin shrugged. “Maybe it wasn't as important to you as it was to Elvhenan.”
Cassandra pursed her lips. “Maybe...”
The Sentinels had a habit of making people very nervous. They were extremely quiet, and mostly kept to themselves, but lurked around Skyhold in full armor. They had staked off one of the more crumbling towers to live in, and slowly began to rebuild it, mostly ignoring everyone unless prodded.
They did not seem to sleep, and they terrorized the cooking staff simply by wandering through the kitchens at odd hours. One or two liked to lurk in the library, scoffing at the books and annoying the occupants.
Felassan and Solas avoided them. Abelas and Solas clearly had some past history they didn't want to get into, and Felassan proclaimed them 'stuck up soldiers with weird eyes,' so the two groups stayed separated.
“So, how do you feel about having all these people like you around?” Arethin asked Solas, curious about this phenomena. “Better, or worse?”
“They are...not entirely like me,” Solas said.
“How so?”
“They are Mythal's guardians. We parted ways some time ago.”
“And what is the difference?”
“We never had the most easy of alliances.”
“Why not?”
Solas sighed and leaned back. “A very, very long time ago, I served at Mythal's side—not as they did, but I was one of her people.”
“Ah,” Arethin bit her lip. “I suppose the whole thing where you fought every last one of the Evanuris at the same time probably annoyed the rest of her people, then?”
“Yes.”
According to Solas, the guardians were not the most reliable of allies. They had never fought against Fen'harel's armies, but often they could not really be counted on to help. Mythal's goals ran counter to Fen'harel's almost as often as they ran alongside each other.
“And yet, she was still the Evanuris it was easiest to cooperate with,” Solas said with a slight sigh. “She was...a friend.”
“If she was a friend, why wasn't your alliance stable? What did she want that you didn't?” Arethin looked at him, fascinated.
Solas shrugged. “I wanted to change the system of the Evanuris entirely. She did not. She thought they could be saved.”
“And you disagreed.”
“Yes.” he rested his chin on his hand. “It matters little now. The fact remains that the Sentinels and I have fundamental disagreements.”
“Is it possible that others like them survived uthenera?”
“Possible, but unlikely. They would need to be well-hidden, and there is no set amount of time within which to wake up. Some never wake up at all.”
“And others of your people?”
Solas looked away. He never liked talking about the fates of his people. “It is...possible. But not likely.”
It was some days after the temple that the dragon came. It circled high above Skyhold, larger than the average dragon. It began to draw attention, but it neither attacked, flew lower, nor flew away. It was not Corypheus' dragon, of course, and its strange behavior quite quickly invited attention. Many of the inhabitants of Skyhold came out to the courtyard to watch the dragon, murmuring anxiously among themselves.
“What's that doing here?” Arethin asked, scowling and raising her staff.
“Don't,” Solas said, holding a hand out.
“Why not?” Arethin asked.
“It is not hostile,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Taking dragon shape is a feat accomplished by very few mages,” he said. “But some can manage it.”
“That's a person?”
“Indeed. I suggest you let her land.”
“How will we tell her it's alright?”
“I can do that.”
“No,” Abelas appeared beside Solas, and several of the other Sentinels came out wherever they had been lurking to join him. “We will.”
Solas inclined his head, and a light appeared in Abelas' palm. He raised his arm high, the light growing steadily brighter and brighter. The dragon took notice, and began to descend.
The dragon came to ground with a surprisingly soft landing. She tucked her wings and tail in so that they did not strike anything, a remarkable show of conscientiousness coming from the beast. A golden glow swirled around the dragon, and then in a burst of blinding light that had all of them covering her eyes, the dragon was gone, and in its place was a woman.
The woman was tall, very tall, her long white hair swept away from her face and formed into horns like dragon's horns. Her round ears indicated she was human, but her brilliant eyes and strong nose indicated something else entirely. She wore a dragonskin tunic over silver armor, and she smelled like brimstone and magic. Her golden eyes shone, and she smiled as she looked around at them all.
Everyone stared right back at her, unsure what to make of this new development.
At length, Morrigan, who had come out to view the proceedings, stepped forward, Surana right behind her.
“Mother,” she breathed.
“That's your mother?” Arethin asked.
“Flemeth,” Surana growled.
“Flemeth?”
“No,” Solas said with a slight sigh. “Mythal. The All-mother.”
Abelas sunk to one knee before the woman, his head bowed, as did the rest of the Sentinels.
“Enough of that,” Mythal said, her voice gentle. “I am not what I once as. And you, my guardians, are not what you once were.”
Abelas glanced up at her, his eyes wide. Gently, she touched his chin, tilting his head up. She guided him to his feet, and the other Sentinels followed his lead.
“All-mother--” Abelas started, then stopped.
“Worry not,” she said. “I have come to see many people, you among them.” Mythal turned her golden gaze on Solas. “My friend,” she said. “I see you have been making trouble, as always.”
“It is...a longstanding habit,” Solas admitted.
“You know each other?” Arethin demanded. “Why does everyone know her except for me?”
“Don't blame me,” Surana said. “I thought she was a crazy woman who lived out in a swamp.”
Abelas and the other Sentinels began to glower, and Arethin figured she should probably cut this off before it got worse.
“Why are you here?” Arethin asked.
“You are a nexus,” Mythal said. “And I always appreciate the kind of person who can draw others to them so strongly.”
Solas snorted.
Mythal looked at him, and he looked back at her.
“There was a plan,” Mythal said. “But you have thrown it into chaos. Congratulations. Few people are able to accomplish that.” she smirked. “Except, of course, my dear friend here.” she gestured to Solas.
“What plan was this?” Morrigan demanded.
“We have the same goals, you and I,” Mythal said, looking at Arethin, her grin sharp. “Well...some of the same goals. We both wish the Veil to be taken down.” her eyes flicked to Solas again.
“They would never have stopped,” Solas said softly.
“I know,” Mythal assured him. “But neither will they die, locked away as they are. You have only doomed the world to slow suffocation.”
Solas looked away.
“However,” Mythal said. “We might correct that. You have been looking for a way to slay Corypheus, and the answer to the problem. I might give you assistance in both matters.”
“How?” Arethin asked.
“Assistance?” Morrigan laughed. “I would hardly call anything you do assisting.”
Mythal rolled her eyes. “In the Golden City, there is a way to remove the Veil,” she said. “Carefully.”
“Is that so?” Arethin watched her, her fingers clenched tightly around her staff. “And how might that be done?”
“It involves that pretty thing on your hand,” Mythal pointed.
Involuntarily, Arethin glanced down at the mark on her hand.
“But you alone cannot do it,” she said. “You must go with the one who put it there to begin with.”
Arethin looked at Solas.
Mythal inclined her head. “Yes, I see the shape of it takes form in your mind. You have worked together before. You can do it for this.”
“And I suppose you stand to benefit a great deal from this?' Morrigan demanded.
“We all do, my dear.”
“And why have you chosen now to come?” Cassandra asked, speaking up for the first time.
“What I had wanted before now cannot be done,” Mythal said. “So changes must be made.”
“You know how to help?” Arethin asked.
A slow grin spread across Mythal's face. “Indeed I do.” she looked at Kitranna and Morrigan. “First, a consequence: your son is involved in this.”
“Kieran?” Surana exclaimed. “How?”
“He carries the soul of one of the Evanuris,” Mythal explained.
“Evanuris?” Kitranna blinked. “Like you?”
Mythal inclined her head. “The Veil trapped their souls in the Fade, and when they tried to escape, the Veil shredded them,” she said. “So they became the Archdemons. And your son is carrying one.”
Kitranna and Morrigan glanced at each other, worried.
“What does this mean?” Arethin asked.
“If the Veil were to be removed, it is possible the Evanuris soul within him would...react to it,” Solas said, leveling an unimpressed look at Mythal. “I assume you did not intend for a mortal child to carry such a thing?”
Mythal sighed. “No, if Morrigan had cooperated, I would have been able to do something about it sooner,” she said.
Kitranna snorted. “Yeah, like possess her. That's real helpful.”
“A soul is never forced on the unwilling.”
“No, you merely would have desired to coerce me into it,” Morrigan snapped. “You are not coming near our son.”
Mythal frowned, actually looking regretful for a moment. “Too much time spent with it will hurt him, especially when the Veil is removed,” she said. “He might be elf-blooded, but it is mortal blood, not enough to sustain an Evanuris soul.”
Kitranna glared at her.
“We never noticed that it was harming him,” Morrigan said.
“Not at this point, no. He's still very young. But it will, in the future.”
Kitranna and Morrigan looked at each other again, before Kitranna nodded.
“If it'll hurt him, we have to get rid of it,” Kitranna said.
Morrigan narrowed her eyes at Mythal, before inclining her head. “Very well,” she said. “Let us fix this problem now.”
“As you wish.”
“Wait,” before the three of them could leave, Arethin had a question. “How come you look human?”
“My old body, my Elvhen body, was destroyed long ago,” Mythal explained, not seeming very put out by the delay. “I am not as fortunate as my old friends are.” she nodded at Solas and Abelas. “I needed a new one—one who could carry an Evanuris, but one that could also be...overlooked. An old human witch is far less concerning than an elf of any variety—and the woman who let me in carried such...rage with her.” Flemeth smiled, her golden eyes catching the light in a disconcerting way.
“And why is it that you have been so...unconcerned with the rest of my people?” Arethin asked.
“Simply because you cannot see the whole plan does not mean one does not exist,” Mythal said with a shrug. “I have never been given to overt displays, not like certain others I could mention,” her gaze slid to Solas.
Arethin frowned. “I see.”
Morrigan and Kitranna didn't want to worry Kieran by having a whole crowd of people watch whatever it was Flemeth (for she could only ever be Flemeth to Morrigan and Kitranna) was going to do, so they gave the four of them some privacy. Solas assured Arethin that Flemeth was mostly trustworthy, or at least, he had an idea of which way she would jump.
Morrigan and Kitranna explained to Kieran about the situation, and Kieran was rather curious about the whole affair.
Kieran stared at Flemeth when he met her, fascinated by her armor and brilliant eyes. Morrigan stood on one side of him, Kitranna on the other.
“My mothers don't like you,” he said, glancing at Kitranna, then back to Flemeth.
“I daresay not,” Flemeth agreed, golden eyes darting to Morrigan's face and back. “Do you know who I am?”
“You're my grandmother.”
“Precisely, my boy.” Flemeth kneeled down before him. “and I have come to take something I need from you.”
“Take what?” he tilted his head to one side. Morrigan reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Is there a voice, that whispers in your mind?”
“Sometimes.”
“And strange dreams?”
Kieran nodded.
“You're carrying...someone I know.”
“You don't like her,” Kieran said.
“No. I don't.”
“Then why do you want her?”
Flemeth put a hand on Kieran's head, stroking his dark hair. Morrigan scowled. “Once, I needed her. Now I likely will need her, but it is not certain. And I cannot let her stay with you. It would hurt you too much.”
Kieran nodded. “That's what you told Mama and Mamae.”
“Indeed it is.” she removed her hand from his hair and held it out to him instead. “So. Will you give her to me?”
Kieran looked up at her. At length, he nodded. She smiled at him.
“Thank you.”
There was a burst of brilliant light, so bright that Flemeth and Kieran were lost amidst it, and then it slowly died.
Morrigan snatched Kieran away from Flemeth. “What did you do?” she hissed.
“Only what I promised,” Flemeth assured her.
“No more dreams?” Kieran stared up at her.
Flemeth smiled. “No more dreams.”
He scratched the side of his head.
“Now will you leave?” Morrigan demanded.
“Of course,” Flemeth said. “I have but two more things to do. Fortunately, as far as you are concerned, they do not involve you.”
Kitranna pulled Kieran closer to her.
“It's alright, Mamae,” he told her.
“Well, maybe you think so,” she informed him, watching as Flemeth turned to leave. “But I'm not so sure.”
The Sentinels and Mythal gathered in their tower. Abelas stood at the forefront of the group, eyes averted from Mythal's.
“My guardians,” Mythal murmured, eyes flicking over the Sentinels. “You stood watch for so long.”
“Of course,” Abelas said.
“And you took the Well, I see.”
Abelas went, if possible, even paler.
Mythal smiled. “Have no fear,” she said. “You have only done what was needed.”
“And—shall we join you, then?”
Mythal shook her head. “You are free of your duty,” she told them. “Do as you wish.”
Abelas stared at her.
“Things as they were will not return,” Mythal said. “So. We will change. We must change.”
“All-mother--”
“Not anymore. We must all change—you as well as I.”
She left her Sentinels, now their own Sentinels and Guardians. None of them had wanted to see her go, but she was no longer the person they had served.
And at last, Mythal went to see Solas.
They watched each other without speaking at first. He looked different than she remembered him being, somehow both older and younger. Her last memory was of him covered in blood, clutching a sword, hair matted with gore, eyes blazing with rage. Seeing him without armor (or hair, for that matter) was a bit strange. He was calmer now, anger confined to a quiet glow about his person rather than being the all-consuming thing it had once been.
His own memories of the last time they saw each other were hazy, at best. He distinctly recalled how her body had been struck with poisoned arrows, torched by magical fire—the enemies of any Evanuris had to make absolutely sure the body died.
The body she wore only looked a little like her old one. The human blood in her made her face look strange, but those golden eyes were the same as they had ever been.
“I see that both of our plans have changed,” she told him at last.
He inclined his head. “Yes.”
They stood in silence for several moments. “I suppose there is no other way,” she said at last.
“Perhaps. But I promised to try this way first.”
“And the promises you give to the Mediator override what I am owed?”
He looked at her, and she looked back at him, then sighed.
“I suppose that is only fair.”
“She is an unknown,” he said. “I will not do terrible things if there are alternatives to be had.”
Mythal's lips thinned into a line. “I suppose,” she said. “Does her way still further your goals? It must.”
“I would take no action that did not.”
She gave him a bare smile. “Your reputation is well-earned.”
He didn't quite flinch at that, but he wanted to, and she sighed.
“I did not mean to drag you into this,” she said, for that was what she had done. She had never intended all this, of course, but one never did.
He had been an artist, when she had first met him. A reclusive, spirit-born child, barely twenty and already brimming with the magic of dreams.
“I made my own choices,” he said. “You merely supplied the avenues by which to take them.”
She laughed. “I suppose that is true,” she said. “If we're to blame anyone, I'll blame my own mother. Dratted woman died and left me with her position.”
“I could not say,” Solas raised his eyebrows. “I was not there.”
Mythal sighed. “No, you weren't.” everyone who had been in there in her youth was long gone. She was old by the time Fen'harel had come to upset the Evanuris' games—she had been the first of all of them. “Farewell, my friend,” Mythal told Solas. “This could have gone very, very badly. Remember that.”
Solas only nodded.
Arethin, Solas and Abelas went to see Mythal off when she left. They'd cleared a spot for her in the courtyard, so she could take off in dragon shape.
“So, I take my leave,” Mythal said.
“Are you certain?” Arethin asked. “Your Sentinels and your daughter are here, and we could use your help.”
“Yes, I am certain. You have my friend here, and you could do better than this old meddler.” with one last elusive grin, she collected light around her like a cape, and in a moment there stood a dragon instead of a woman.
The dragon winged over the mountain and vanished behind it.
Arethin shook her head as she watched.
“What an odd woman.”
“Does it not concern you, that she is Mythal?” Solas asked.
“Not really,” Arethin shrugged. “Maybe others.” she shot a grin at Solas. “At least the two of you are more invested than Andraste.” she paused. “Don't tell Cassandra I said that. It'd give her a migraine.”
From his expression, she was giving him a migraine too, with talk like that, but all he did was sigh. “It is...unfortunate that she chose not to stay.”
“Maybe,” Arethin looked up again, to where Mythal had flown off to. “But we have our own tricks. I don't know if we need hers, too.”