Doom Upon All The World

Chapter 48: It's Time

        "How could you?!" A furious voice rang out against the subtle silence of the library above the rotunda. Solas looked up immediately and watched as a brown and tan object flitted past his eyes and to the ground. It thunked against the stone with a loud bang and the sound of things scattering around it. It Solas a moment to realize that it was a book and the scattering noise was the sound of pages falling out of it. A second later there was a stomping sound on the stairs and within moments, Philippe charged him, sword arm out stretched, shield up in his own defense. 

      Solas was caught off guard. He was struck with confusion at what was happening. Before his mind even registered what was happening, his body reacted, reaching for his staff and stiffening as he felt the heavy metal of the boy's sword his the strong iron bark of his staff. Philippe hacked at him several times with the same assault and the corresponding result. Solas stood against the child with ease. He was simply surprised. What had gotten into the Montilyet boy.

      "You could have helped! You could have saved them! You could have done more!" Philippe screams. His bolstering attracts attention and Maeve, Cassandra and Morrigan come rushing into the room. The three of them look between Solas and Philippe but he gestures to them to let the child be. Whatever his anger, he needs to get it out before it festers into something dangerous. "You should have saved them! You lied! You lied to us all! How could you do this!" He continued his barrage, beating his blade to a dull point against the staff. 

       The nine year old, continued his assault, hacking and swinging and striking, wailing like an abandoned infant, tears rushing down his face. He did this, his limbs flailing until Cullen came into the room, with many of the children tailing him, and pulled him back by the shoulders. Cassandra ran up to him and took the weapon from his firm grip. It was a battle all in itself to get the children to release the sword. Getting him to relax would be even harder. His once beautifully bronze skin took on a bright red color as he scowled and screamed his fury at Solas.

      "I hate you! I hate you! I hate your stupid powers! I hate your ridiculous elven heritage! I hate your ancient magic! I hate everything about you! You're a monster! You could have saved them and yet you did nothing!" Cullen pulls him back forcefully, his arms wrapped under the boys arms as he tugged. "You are a false, pitiful, excuse for a your kind! A real God would have saved them! The real Fen'Harel would have done something!" Philippe shouted. Solas went still, he felt Maeve go as stalk straight as well. Their eyes met across the room and Solas could only tear them away briefly to stare at the book on the floor.

      The journal. Blasted thing. Dorian had gotten his hands on it and pushed it in his face wondering the exact same thing. This was different though. He had power now. But how could he tell them that he could not use it lest he want to bring the wrath of the Elven Pantheon down upon them. Surely they were in search of him. He was surprised they hadn't caught up with him yet. Thankful, but surprised. Solas realizes what this means as Cullen hands the boy to Morrigan who quickly puts him under with a wave of her hand. He falls limp in Cullen's arms as Templar rolls his eyes. They lay the boy on the couch as Maeve approaches him. She looks at him briefly as they watch the other settle Philippe. "It's time, Solas." She mutters to him reluctantly.

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      They had dreaded this moment up until the very second they were faced with it. "A God? You must be joking!", "What kind of trick is this?", "No Veil? But wouldn't that mean the demons would roam free?", "I thought you didn't believe in the old Elven Gods?". Questions swam and spawned and grew from their mouths, spurting out in every direction possible. They hardly believed the pair of them. Solas hadn't wanted to tell but he knew he didn't have a choice. They needed to know. 

     Philippe's dismay was enough to put them on edge. When he started spouting about Fen'Harel, he knew his time hiding from his friends was over. "You had all that power all that time and you didn't do anything?" Cassandra's questions of why he never took action were the same as the ones he had given Dorian a decade ago. Creators, had it really been that long? But when the big question comes he looks frantically for an answer that will not make them hate him. Sadly there isn't one. There is a single answer it is not one they will like. "Could you have used your Godly powers to save Josephine?" The question spilled from Cassandra before Solas could finish explaining everything. 

     The room fell silent and Morrigan watched from the corner with a wicked smile, stifling a wild cackling in her gut. He could feel the intensity of her bright yellow eyes on him. "I could have tried. There is no guarantee that my efforts would have been successful. And even if they had, we all may have suffered a fate much worse than death when the others felt the draw of their power being used. " He paused, taking a breath as Maeve squeezed his hand beneath the table. All of their eyes were on him and he wished he could take it all back. Stuff the words back down his throat and burn the journal before Philippe ever got his hands on it. Cassandra got up. She did not say another word. She simply stood and stormed off. 

     Cullen got up, hand at the back of his neck, scratching nervously as they watched him. "Give her time. This is big news but she will come around." He tried to put their worries at ease but the look on Cullen's face did little to settle him. Solas felt as if his insides were turning out. This is not what he had wanted. Not at all. 

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     He knew she would be back in their quarters. Before he could go there and soothe all of her worries though, she needed to cool off. The last thing he wanted was a fight. Cassandra was delicate by no means even in her pregnant state but she shouldn't exert herself more than necessary. She didn't need the stress. 

      So before he would go back to her, he thought to check on Branson. He had hardly been around his brother since he arrived with his niece and nephews just weeks ago, not even. The man had been distant, rightfully so. They had been in an argument just before Cullen left to speak with Gilderoy. Branson blamed him, blamed the Inquisition, their incompetence for the death of their sisters. But how could they have known. Cullen felt his guts wrench inside of himself but he had to speak with his brother nonetheless. It would do no one any good if they fought. 

     He thought to apologize. To give in to whatever his brother wanted to hear because he could not bear to lose another family member. But what he found when he got to Branson's room was far from what he expected. His brother lie in a pool of his own vomit and blood, the foul stench of ale mixed with that of rotting flesh filling the air. Torrance laid in his cradle, crying at the top of his infant lungs. Cullen went to him and scooped the child up delicately. He then, hesitantly, bent and felt a pulse at his brother's neck. 

     There was stubble there and the faint brush of incredibly dry skin, but he felt no heart beat at his finger tips. Tears stung at his eyes. He would take everything. Gilderoy would take everything from him. He had no family left. No sisters, no brother, no parents. He had Cassandra and their son but this, this part of him that was his family was dead and gone. It died when his brother drank himself to death because he blamed Cullen for Rosalie and Mia's deaths.

     Cassandra knew immediately. The moment he walked in the door and saw the paleness of his features, the hollowness of his eyes, the hurt in his expression. She knew. She took the baby from his arms and set him on the bed, propping him up on the pillows. Then when she was sure Torrance would not fall, she turned back to her husband and wrapped him in her embrace, pulling him down into her arms, giving what little comfort she could as she stroked his hair and hushed his cries.