A day and half the night had passed, and still they were on the move.
Estella wasn't sure what exactly it was that drove Saraya to push the pace like this; she suspected it had partly to do with the time remaining before, well... the end. But none of this seemed to be the sort of last ride one would take for the sake of enjoyment or closure, even—though Vesryn's condition prevented them from moving too quickly, it was still obvious that there was urgency in the travel, and she suspected that Saraya had some particular destination in mind.
Given the way they were heading, she might actually even know what it was, though it would take more time to be certain. Right now they crossed the Hinterlands still, tall grasses long enough to brush her feet where they sat in the stirrups. The five horses and one halla were making good time, or at least much better time than their riders would have managed while walking, but for the moment conversation had slowed to a halt. Estella supposed that might be partly her fault; she hadn't been much good for it of late.
Expelling a soft breath, she reached down and rubbed Nox's neck. An Orlesian warhorse was hardly incapable of thing long on the march, especially at this speed; probably she would run out of energy long before he did. She might have already, if the palpable urgency weren't keeping her on edge. Despite the serenity of the surroundings—the way the moon bathed the grass in silvery light, the gentle susurration of it as the night breeze moved through—she couldn't help but feel the sharp bite of anxiety in her gut.
"Someone tell a story," Ves suddenly said, from where he led their little group. His expression was one of near constant pain, but by the looks of it he'd actually grown accustomed to that. Perhaps there were simply limits to what his body could feel, what his mind could process. It seemed absurd that he'd brought his axe along; he was in no condition to even carry it, led alone wield it in battle. But the others were armed, as Ferelden could be dangerous in its more wild places.
"I'm not sure I can handle the silence," he admitted. "How about it, Harellan? Any stories for the road? Could be about anything you like."
"I'd be interested," Astraia piped up. She rode her halla, Athim, with an effortlessness that she lacked while on foot. She hardly seemed to do anything at all to control him, and perhaps that was simply how it was for the two of them.
Harellan straightened; it would seem he'd been dozing or at least deep in thought. Glancing around at everyone's faces, which had for the most part turned to regard him, he hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose I could. Let me see here..." He took a moment to decide; no doubt there were a great number of stories he could have told. When he continued, his voice had settled back into a rhythmic, almost musical cadence.
"In the beginning, elvhen sought both to explore the stillest roots of the Fade and to master the unchanging material world, delicate and stubborn when subjected to magic. Some of them manifested outside the Fade and built cities on the Earth." He paused while the animals did the work of cresting a hill, only resuming once they were comfortably headed downwards again. "However, the Earth was the demesne of its pillars, the titans. It sang with its own harmony, and the elvhen hoped that if they listened to it, great works would unfold and they would make the Earth blossom."
He paused, then resumed in a slightly-darker tone. "But earthquakes shook the cities they'd built, throwing down their work. Intent to tame the land, the People prepared to hunt the pillars of the earth and their witless and soulless workers. They believed their cause just and the death of their enemies a mercy and waged war upon the titans with burning light and wingéd death.
“Titans?" Khari broke in with a furrowed brow. “What's a titan?"
Harellan smiled slightly, the expression almost indulgent. "Well, that's less clear in the tellings. They are called the pillars, and most who've made a study of the legends believe that they were enormous creatures made of stone, whose feet left marks in the earth that eventually became its lakes."
“They'd have to be pretty fucking huge, then." Her mouth flattened.
Harellan expelled a breath, almost a laugh. "An apt enough description. In any case, the war with the titans was long, and for the elvhen, bloody. The titans were resistant to the magic that came so easily to us, because they were entirely of the material world. We could not shape or bend them, as we had difficulty shaping and bending the other things in their realm, and so our power was much reduced." He tipped his head back, enough to take in the sky above them, and the sound of his voice became something almost melancholy. "Many were lost, until from the ranks rose the eight greatest generals the People have ever known."
Almost in spite of herself, Estella found it difficult not to listen—and she didn't really see any reason not to. When he paused there, she tilted her head and ventured a guess. "The Evanuris?"
Harellan nodded. "Just so. It was they who led the elvhen to victory, but not with ease. Each time they battled, they found themselves simply overwhelmed. Each of them fought fiercely, but for different reasons. Elgar'nan struck with fearsome rage, burning in his desire for vengeance. So many of his kith and kin had met their end on the fields of battle that he could not bear the pain, and lashed out with it. But he was repelled." Bringing his eyes back down, he shifted them to Khari for a moment. "Dirthamen was a strategist: he struck with cunning and clarity, seeking to understand the secrets of the titans and exploit their weaknesses. But even he could not find them, and he too was thwarted. June employed new types of magic and devices, Andruil struck with speed and the thrill of the chase. Falon'din fought bravely for veneration and glory; all of them were turned aside."
"They had to have won eventually, right?" Astraia seemed confused by where the story was going. "Can't see how they'd come to be viewed as living gods otherwise."
"And you'd think we'd have a lot more lakes by now," Ves added. "If titans were still stomping around."
“Mythal struck them down." Cyrus's voice was just a murmur, and he looked surprised to have said it, as though the words were involuntary, almost. “Their blood was lyrium, and it sang."
Harellan regarded her brother for a moment, eyes narrowing faintly, and then inclined his head. "Yes. As it is told, Mythal spoke against the war, as she spoke against most, but when the time came and she had no choice, she too attempted to conquer the titans. It was her love that drove her: love for her people, and grief for the lives that had already been lost. This alone overcame the behemoths, and granted unto the elvhen dominion over the earth."
Estella had to wonder about that. Whether it had truly been anything approaching just, to strike down the titans, even if the losses of the war had been great. Would it not have been better just to stop the war? But then, she knew her stories, and the ones this old were rarely complete anyway. Still, the core sentiment was—it was hard to call it nice, exactly, but it was... it resonated. At least a little. At least with her.
"Cyrus?" The name came from Astraia. She'd been observing Estella's brother with some concern since he'd spoken up in that way that seemed somewhat unusual for him. "Are you all right? You haven't talked much about... the temple, the Well, all that."
“I—yes, thank you." Cyrus offered up a thin smile in Astraia's direction, but no further explanation. Perhaps he thought it a bad time for more than that.
"Maybe we save the rest of the stories for the way back," Ves suggested. It wasn't hard to tell from the way he said that he didn't really think there would be a way back, but all the same the group fell quiet again, each left to their own thoughts. Light was beginning to appear over the horizon, heralding the coming of morning.
They stopped only for the briefest of periods, what was needed to rest and feed their mounts, not to mention themselves. The ride itself wasn't overly difficult, and they encountered no trouble on the way from wildlife or bandits or the like, but the sheer length of it with no real rest to break it up was difficult as time went on. When morning did finally arrive, they'd reached the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest, with its looming trees and ominous darkness. It was beautiful, but not in the same way the Emerald Graves or the Arbor Wilds had been. It seemed unlikely they'd encounter any Dalish here, as many of the clans that had lived in the forest were destroyed or otherwise driven out by the Blight, and most had yet to return.
They rode single file along narrow pathways, slowing their mounts to a walking pace in the denseness of the forest. "I'm sure you've all figured out where she's taking us by now," Ves said. It seemed he too had suspected it a while back. "I can't for the life of me think of why, though."
Harellan looked particularly thoughtful, face drawn, as he had for the last few miles. Estella recognized the expression—he had a thought, but was unsure he should speak it. In the end, his face smoothed out and he shook his head, a clear decision in the negative.
“Well... we can be reasonably sure there is a why, at least." Cyrus's hand dropped away from his temple, as though he'd been rubbing at it. “She's never done something like this without good cause that I recall."
A thought niggled at Estella. She couldn't say for sure if it was the same one that Harellan left unvoiced, but if so, she could understand why. There were few reasons she could think of to return to the place where she and Ves had first been joined... unless some part of that joining was something that could, in theory, be undone. If the ancient elves had some way of removing a consciousness from a body, was it not possible that they had some way to remove one of two?
But it was at once too much to hope for and on the other hand too terrifying to contemplate. What that might do to either or both of them if it went somehow wrong... and yet whatever the reason was, it was urgent in a way that suggested at least a chance for something. Estella didn't know if she was reading too much into things, seizing hope that wasn't there because she was too weak to reject it and come to terms with what was going to happen. Maybe that was why she saw suggestion in the people Ves had named, so certainly it seemed almost to surprise him, or so Khari had said. Maybe it had—because maybe the thought had been Saraya's, and she'd suspected she would need them. Mages, all, and experts two. But she dare not speak such things aloud, for fear of what would come if they weren't true at all.
So she held her tongue, only nodding a bit by way of response to Cyrus. "Whatever's going on... I trust her. It seems like that's what needs doing right now."
Ves nodded in agreement. They rode for a short while longer, until the sun was filtering down through the canopy overhead, a few hours before midday. They came upon an old campsite, with a firepit that hadn't been used in years. It was starting to be reclaimed by the forest, but either Ves or Saraya had clearly known where it was. Perhaps they'd stopped here once, a long time ago.
"We can take some time to rest here, I think," Ves said, sounding relieved to give the word. "Maybe an hour or so. Help me down." It was a group effort to get Ves down from the saddle and back on his feet, and when he was there he took up Khari's cane as she'd suggested, leaving him at least slightly more stable on the ground. "Last stretch to the ruin is ahead."
He turned his head suddenly, looking into the forest, but Estella didn't hear or see anything that would've drawn his attention. He rubbed at his forehead, clearly exhausted, but also trying to parse through whatever Saraya wanted to tell him. "Come with me, Stel? There's... I think there's something she wants us to see."
Estella nodded immediately, handing off her reins to Khari and double-checking that all of her equipment was where she was accustomed to it being. "Sure," she replied, making her way to his side. "Let's go."
They walked arm in arm, Estella supporting Ves as though he were someone significantly older, and not someone that had just fought at her side in battle not long ago. There were no paths the way Ves was taking her, and they had to be careful not to trip on hidden roots and rocks concealed by the brush. "It's not far," Ves assured her. Indeed, she could hear something up ahead. Moving water, the sound of it running over the edge of a cliff.
They emerged into a clearing with a shallow pool up against a steep cliff face. Water spilled over the side of it, but its height was such that it turned mostly into mist by the time it reached the pool itself. The sun was bright overhead, with not a cloud in the sky to diminish the light.
"I thought this might be it," Ves said. He was smiling broadly, eyes tilted up at the waterfall. "She stopped here, before the elves found her. She dreams about it often. She was delirious, and had a vision she couldn't quite complete before she was interrupted." He actually laughed softly, turning his eyes to Estella.
"If you don't mind feeling like a fool for me one more time... go stand under that waterfall."
She was sure the oddness of the request must have registered on her face, but it wasn't as if she really minded. Still, if she was going to get wet, it would be better not to risk the damage to her armor. "I think I can manage that," she replied, trying to ignore the way her heart clenched at the sound of one more time. The mood was light, for the moment, at least as light as it could be, and she wanted to preserve it. So she gamely shucked her leathers and chestplate, setting her gauntlets and boots next to them, padding barefoot across the grass to the edge of the pool.
Here she met an obvious obstacle. Being under the waterfall seemed to require being in the pool itself. Well, if she was going to look the fool, she might as well go for it, surely.
The water's first touch was chill on her bare feet, but she found that she adjusted quickly to the temperature, and the wade was rather gradual. Estella trailed her fingers along the surface of the water until she reached the bottom of the spray, scrunching her face against the fine drops that fell from above for a moment. They were a little cold, too, but it suited the summer day. Turning back around, she tilted her head and shrugged, a smile touching her face. "All right. Feeling pretty foolish now. Are you going to leave by my lonesome in here or what?"
"I wouldn't dare." He'd managed to get his boots off as well, though he had to sit first. The control he had over his body looked to be taking an extreme effort, but it was plain to see how important this was to him. To both of them. Fixing a regret of sorts, hundreds and hundreds of years old. It was easy for Estella to imagine what Saraya might have seen, how she might've felt after wandering all the way south across Thedas.
Completely exhausted, as Ves was, and yet seeing the love of her life standing in a pool under a drizzling waterfall, beckoning. So close, and yet requiring so much effort to reach.
Ves would not be denied, and though it took him a few moments, he was soon standing under the water with her. He pushed damp hair out of his face and took one of her hands, his other coiling around the back of her neck as he kissed her. He'd said that normally Saraya would withdraw as much as she could during moments like this, but no doubt she was now imagining Estella as someone else, imagining herself in another time. A pair of loves, split by eternity.
Ves was breathless when his lips parted from hers, and it wasn't entirely from the effort he'd needed to reach her. "When I die," he said softly, "whether that's today or sixty years from now, I'd like this moment to be the last thing I think of."
She felt the same. But it wasn't enough, not just yet. Sighing out a soft breath, Estella shifted her fingers from where they'd curled in his tunic upwards, so that they tangled gently in his hair. She wanted the details to remain with her as vividly as possible. Of all the things in her life she would eventually forget, she refused to let this be one of them. The spray landing atop the crown of her head, the water lapping at her back, the slightly-uncomfortable abrasion of her damp shirt against her skin. And more importantly, the feel of him where they pressed together, the wet-silk texture of his hair, the brilliant emerald of his eyes. All of it was perfect to her, because it was here and now and him.
"One more," she demanded just as quietly, tugging him back down. Just one more. One more memory.
One more crystalline fragment of perfection.
Estella wasn't sure what exactly it was that drove Saraya to push the pace like this; she suspected it had partly to do with the time remaining before, well... the end. But none of this seemed to be the sort of last ride one would take for the sake of enjoyment or closure, even—though Vesryn's condition prevented them from moving too quickly, it was still obvious that there was urgency in the travel, and she suspected that Saraya had some particular destination in mind.
Given the way they were heading, she might actually even know what it was, though it would take more time to be certain. Right now they crossed the Hinterlands still, tall grasses long enough to brush her feet where they sat in the stirrups. The five horses and one halla were making good time, or at least much better time than their riders would have managed while walking, but for the moment conversation had slowed to a halt. Estella supposed that might be partly her fault; she hadn't been much good for it of late.
Expelling a soft breath, she reached down and rubbed Nox's neck. An Orlesian warhorse was hardly incapable of thing long on the march, especially at this speed; probably she would run out of energy long before he did. She might have already, if the palpable urgency weren't keeping her on edge. Despite the serenity of the surroundings—the way the moon bathed the grass in silvery light, the gentle susurration of it as the night breeze moved through—she couldn't help but feel the sharp bite of anxiety in her gut.
"Someone tell a story," Ves suddenly said, from where he led their little group. His expression was one of near constant pain, but by the looks of it he'd actually grown accustomed to that. Perhaps there were simply limits to what his body could feel, what his mind could process. It seemed absurd that he'd brought his axe along; he was in no condition to even carry it, led alone wield it in battle. But the others were armed, as Ferelden could be dangerous in its more wild places.
"I'm not sure I can handle the silence," he admitted. "How about it, Harellan? Any stories for the road? Could be about anything you like."
"I'd be interested," Astraia piped up. She rode her halla, Athim, with an effortlessness that she lacked while on foot. She hardly seemed to do anything at all to control him, and perhaps that was simply how it was for the two of them.
Harellan straightened; it would seem he'd been dozing or at least deep in thought. Glancing around at everyone's faces, which had for the most part turned to regard him, he hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose I could. Let me see here..." He took a moment to decide; no doubt there were a great number of stories he could have told. When he continued, his voice had settled back into a rhythmic, almost musical cadence.
"In the beginning, elvhen sought both to explore the stillest roots of the Fade and to master the unchanging material world, delicate and stubborn when subjected to magic. Some of them manifested outside the Fade and built cities on the Earth." He paused while the animals did the work of cresting a hill, only resuming once they were comfortably headed downwards again. "However, the Earth was the demesne of its pillars, the titans. It sang with its own harmony, and the elvhen hoped that if they listened to it, great works would unfold and they would make the Earth blossom."
He paused, then resumed in a slightly-darker tone. "But earthquakes shook the cities they'd built, throwing down their work. Intent to tame the land, the People prepared to hunt the pillars of the earth and their witless and soulless workers. They believed their cause just and the death of their enemies a mercy and waged war upon the titans with burning light and wingéd death.
“Titans?" Khari broke in with a furrowed brow. “What's a titan?"
Harellan smiled slightly, the expression almost indulgent. "Well, that's less clear in the tellings. They are called the pillars, and most who've made a study of the legends believe that they were enormous creatures made of stone, whose feet left marks in the earth that eventually became its lakes."
“They'd have to be pretty fucking huge, then." Her mouth flattened.
Harellan expelled a breath, almost a laugh. "An apt enough description. In any case, the war with the titans was long, and for the elvhen, bloody. The titans were resistant to the magic that came so easily to us, because they were entirely of the material world. We could not shape or bend them, as we had difficulty shaping and bending the other things in their realm, and so our power was much reduced." He tipped his head back, enough to take in the sky above them, and the sound of his voice became something almost melancholy. "Many were lost, until from the ranks rose the eight greatest generals the People have ever known."
Almost in spite of herself, Estella found it difficult not to listen—and she didn't really see any reason not to. When he paused there, she tilted her head and ventured a guess. "The Evanuris?"
Harellan nodded. "Just so. It was they who led the elvhen to victory, but not with ease. Each time they battled, they found themselves simply overwhelmed. Each of them fought fiercely, but for different reasons. Elgar'nan struck with fearsome rage, burning in his desire for vengeance. So many of his kith and kin had met their end on the fields of battle that he could not bear the pain, and lashed out with it. But he was repelled." Bringing his eyes back down, he shifted them to Khari for a moment. "Dirthamen was a strategist: he struck with cunning and clarity, seeking to understand the secrets of the titans and exploit their weaknesses. But even he could not find them, and he too was thwarted. June employed new types of magic and devices, Andruil struck with speed and the thrill of the chase. Falon'din fought bravely for veneration and glory; all of them were turned aside."
"They had to have won eventually, right?" Astraia seemed confused by where the story was going. "Can't see how they'd come to be viewed as living gods otherwise."
"And you'd think we'd have a lot more lakes by now," Ves added. "If titans were still stomping around."
“Mythal struck them down." Cyrus's voice was just a murmur, and he looked surprised to have said it, as though the words were involuntary, almost. “Their blood was lyrium, and it sang."
Harellan regarded her brother for a moment, eyes narrowing faintly, and then inclined his head. "Yes. As it is told, Mythal spoke against the war, as she spoke against most, but when the time came and she had no choice, she too attempted to conquer the titans. It was her love that drove her: love for her people, and grief for the lives that had already been lost. This alone overcame the behemoths, and granted unto the elvhen dominion over the earth."
Estella had to wonder about that. Whether it had truly been anything approaching just, to strike down the titans, even if the losses of the war had been great. Would it not have been better just to stop the war? But then, she knew her stories, and the ones this old were rarely complete anyway. Still, the core sentiment was—it was hard to call it nice, exactly, but it was... it resonated. At least a little. At least with her.
"Cyrus?" The name came from Astraia. She'd been observing Estella's brother with some concern since he'd spoken up in that way that seemed somewhat unusual for him. "Are you all right? You haven't talked much about... the temple, the Well, all that."
“I—yes, thank you." Cyrus offered up a thin smile in Astraia's direction, but no further explanation. Perhaps he thought it a bad time for more than that.
"Maybe we save the rest of the stories for the way back," Ves suggested. It wasn't hard to tell from the way he said that he didn't really think there would be a way back, but all the same the group fell quiet again, each left to their own thoughts. Light was beginning to appear over the horizon, heralding the coming of morning.
They stopped only for the briefest of periods, what was needed to rest and feed their mounts, not to mention themselves. The ride itself wasn't overly difficult, and they encountered no trouble on the way from wildlife or bandits or the like, but the sheer length of it with no real rest to break it up was difficult as time went on. When morning did finally arrive, they'd reached the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest, with its looming trees and ominous darkness. It was beautiful, but not in the same way the Emerald Graves or the Arbor Wilds had been. It seemed unlikely they'd encounter any Dalish here, as many of the clans that had lived in the forest were destroyed or otherwise driven out by the Blight, and most had yet to return.
They rode single file along narrow pathways, slowing their mounts to a walking pace in the denseness of the forest. "I'm sure you've all figured out where she's taking us by now," Ves said. It seemed he too had suspected it a while back. "I can't for the life of me think of why, though."
Harellan looked particularly thoughtful, face drawn, as he had for the last few miles. Estella recognized the expression—he had a thought, but was unsure he should speak it. In the end, his face smoothed out and he shook his head, a clear decision in the negative.
“Well... we can be reasonably sure there is a why, at least." Cyrus's hand dropped away from his temple, as though he'd been rubbing at it. “She's never done something like this without good cause that I recall."
A thought niggled at Estella. She couldn't say for sure if it was the same one that Harellan left unvoiced, but if so, she could understand why. There were few reasons she could think of to return to the place where she and Ves had first been joined... unless some part of that joining was something that could, in theory, be undone. If the ancient elves had some way of removing a consciousness from a body, was it not possible that they had some way to remove one of two?
But it was at once too much to hope for and on the other hand too terrifying to contemplate. What that might do to either or both of them if it went somehow wrong... and yet whatever the reason was, it was urgent in a way that suggested at least a chance for something. Estella didn't know if she was reading too much into things, seizing hope that wasn't there because she was too weak to reject it and come to terms with what was going to happen. Maybe that was why she saw suggestion in the people Ves had named, so certainly it seemed almost to surprise him, or so Khari had said. Maybe it had—because maybe the thought had been Saraya's, and she'd suspected she would need them. Mages, all, and experts two. But she dare not speak such things aloud, for fear of what would come if they weren't true at all.
So she held her tongue, only nodding a bit by way of response to Cyrus. "Whatever's going on... I trust her. It seems like that's what needs doing right now."
Ves nodded in agreement. They rode for a short while longer, until the sun was filtering down through the canopy overhead, a few hours before midday. They came upon an old campsite, with a firepit that hadn't been used in years. It was starting to be reclaimed by the forest, but either Ves or Saraya had clearly known where it was. Perhaps they'd stopped here once, a long time ago.
"We can take some time to rest here, I think," Ves said, sounding relieved to give the word. "Maybe an hour or so. Help me down." It was a group effort to get Ves down from the saddle and back on his feet, and when he was there he took up Khari's cane as she'd suggested, leaving him at least slightly more stable on the ground. "Last stretch to the ruin is ahead."
He turned his head suddenly, looking into the forest, but Estella didn't hear or see anything that would've drawn his attention. He rubbed at his forehead, clearly exhausted, but also trying to parse through whatever Saraya wanted to tell him. "Come with me, Stel? There's... I think there's something she wants us to see."
Estella nodded immediately, handing off her reins to Khari and double-checking that all of her equipment was where she was accustomed to it being. "Sure," she replied, making her way to his side. "Let's go."
They walked arm in arm, Estella supporting Ves as though he were someone significantly older, and not someone that had just fought at her side in battle not long ago. There were no paths the way Ves was taking her, and they had to be careful not to trip on hidden roots and rocks concealed by the brush. "It's not far," Ves assured her. Indeed, she could hear something up ahead. Moving water, the sound of it running over the edge of a cliff.
They emerged into a clearing with a shallow pool up against a steep cliff face. Water spilled over the side of it, but its height was such that it turned mostly into mist by the time it reached the pool itself. The sun was bright overhead, with not a cloud in the sky to diminish the light.
"I thought this might be it," Ves said. He was smiling broadly, eyes tilted up at the waterfall. "She stopped here, before the elves found her. She dreams about it often. She was delirious, and had a vision she couldn't quite complete before she was interrupted." He actually laughed softly, turning his eyes to Estella.
"If you don't mind feeling like a fool for me one more time... go stand under that waterfall."
She was sure the oddness of the request must have registered on her face, but it wasn't as if she really minded. Still, if she was going to get wet, it would be better not to risk the damage to her armor. "I think I can manage that," she replied, trying to ignore the way her heart clenched at the sound of one more time. The mood was light, for the moment, at least as light as it could be, and she wanted to preserve it. So she gamely shucked her leathers and chestplate, setting her gauntlets and boots next to them, padding barefoot across the grass to the edge of the pool.
Here she met an obvious obstacle. Being under the waterfall seemed to require being in the pool itself. Well, if she was going to look the fool, she might as well go for it, surely.
The water's first touch was chill on her bare feet, but she found that she adjusted quickly to the temperature, and the wade was rather gradual. Estella trailed her fingers along the surface of the water until she reached the bottom of the spray, scrunching her face against the fine drops that fell from above for a moment. They were a little cold, too, but it suited the summer day. Turning back around, she tilted her head and shrugged, a smile touching her face. "All right. Feeling pretty foolish now. Are you going to leave by my lonesome in here or what?"
"I wouldn't dare." He'd managed to get his boots off as well, though he had to sit first. The control he had over his body looked to be taking an extreme effort, but it was plain to see how important this was to him. To both of them. Fixing a regret of sorts, hundreds and hundreds of years old. It was easy for Estella to imagine what Saraya might have seen, how she might've felt after wandering all the way south across Thedas.
Completely exhausted, as Ves was, and yet seeing the love of her life standing in a pool under a drizzling waterfall, beckoning. So close, and yet requiring so much effort to reach.
Ves would not be denied, and though it took him a few moments, he was soon standing under the water with her. He pushed damp hair out of his face and took one of her hands, his other coiling around the back of her neck as he kissed her. He'd said that normally Saraya would withdraw as much as she could during moments like this, but no doubt she was now imagining Estella as someone else, imagining herself in another time. A pair of loves, split by eternity.
Ves was breathless when his lips parted from hers, and it wasn't entirely from the effort he'd needed to reach her. "When I die," he said softly, "whether that's today or sixty years from now, I'd like this moment to be the last thing I think of."
She felt the same. But it wasn't enough, not just yet. Sighing out a soft breath, Estella shifted her fingers from where they'd curled in his tunic upwards, so that they tangled gently in his hair. She wanted the details to remain with her as vividly as possible. Of all the things in her life she would eventually forget, she refused to let this be one of them. The spray landing atop the crown of her head, the water lapping at her back, the slightly-uncomfortable abrasion of her damp shirt against her skin. And more importantly, the feel of him where they pressed together, the wet-silk texture of his hair, the brilliant emerald of his eyes. All of it was perfect to her, because it was here and now and him.
"One more," she demanded just as quietly, tugging him back down. Just one more. One more memory.
One more crystalline fragment of perfection.