Feyre groaned. Her head ached and her eyes stung from the crying she had done the entire night. It felt like there was a hole in her chest, much like the size as the Breach. Only it was much, much painful.
She stood up from bed, her silky robes slipping from her shoulders. It was already morning, and she could hear the clanging of the swords of new recruits with their training. At least they got motivation.
Feyre stared at herself at her mirror. Her long, blonde hair was a mess, her eyes were swollen with visible dark circles underneath, and she looked lifeless.
This was the first time she saw herself without her vallaslin. It felt strange without her tattoos — which were actually slave brands of the ancient elves. Solas told her that much when he stripped her of her vallaslin. Then broke her heart.
He might as well break her into pieces. It doesn't feel like she's herself anymore.
"No." Her voice echoed in the silent room, which came out raspy and weak. She grabbed her robes, and headed to the baths. It will be just like any other day.
Black had been appealing to her this morning when she went to find an outfit. From black shirt to dark brown pants to a black leather trench coat, she was definitely going to someone's funeral.
Her chance of finding eternal happiness is having a funeral, and she's burying it below the ground.
The black clothes made her already ivory skin paler, so the dark circles were much more prominent. Her eyes were still swollen despite dabbing some ointment.
Still, with a heavy heart, she headed out of her quarters.
The first person she saw was Varric, who looked surprised as expected. He came out of the Undercroft, carrying something wrapped in brown cloth. He was gleaming before he saw her, and when he did, his eyes widened in shock.
"What happened to you?"
Feyre couldn't help but sigh. "Does it look bad?"
"Look bad?" Varric repeated. He shook his head. "I got a feeling it had something to do with last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"You and Solas thought that nobody notices you two sneaking off at night, but, boy, we sure do. But last night was different. I was in the courtyard when you got back. And Solas came back hours after you. You two always come back together."
Solas arrived after me? Feyre let out another sigh. She understood why. If he came back before her, he would be bombarded by questions to where she was. Arriving after her would mean that she was safe, and he might have wanted to go somewhere else.
"Look, I don't want to pry," Varric shrugged. He nudged her softly. "Just find me if you want to play Wicked Grace and maybe talk if I win." He winked.
Feyre smiled a bit. "Thank you, Varric. I appreciate it."
He bid her farewell, disappearing from her sight. She headed down the surprisingly empty hall, and outside the castle. The cool morning air hit her face the moment she stepped outside, and she took in a long breath. The smell of autumn.
"She looks forward, hopeful but not anymore. Her heart cracked, open, in pieces. Why? Why? Why?" Cole appeared behind her. It used to spook her when he creeps behind her, and his eerie words affected her before. But now, it did not. For they spoke the truth, and perhaps, Feyre wanted to face the truth.
"Hello, Cole," Feyre greeted, still staring at the people below.
"You're in pain," Cole mumbled, tipping his hat upwards so he could see Feyre clearly. "You heart is shattered. Why?"
"Sometimes things are not just meant to be," She replied.
"No, sometimes they're not," Cole nodded. "But it should mean something. Actions mean something. It should mean something not now but perhaps the future."
Feyre nodded. "Perhaps you're right."
"Cullen was looking for you," Cole mentioned.
"Did he say that to you?" It was surprising since Cullen never had any liking to Cole, but she thought that perhaps Cullen finally found out who had been smoothing his fur coat.
"No," Cole said lightly. "He was thinking about you."
"I got it," Feyre nodded. "Thanks, Cole."
Cole smiled, and disappeared. Feyre headed downstairs to the courtyard, to take the longer route. Taking the shorter one would mean bumping into Solas, and she was not ready to see him.
Feyre knocked on the door to Cullen's office, and his voice mumbled a quick word to come in. She pushed the doors open, and shut it tight.
It was warm inside his office, the fire cackling at the fireplace seemed to give the office a warm glow. Cullen was sitting on his chair, unaware of Feyre. He barely looked up from his documents when Feyre cleared her throat.
"You were looking for me?" Feyre said, walking towards his desk. Cullen looked up, and scrambled to his feet.
"My apologies, Inquisitor," Cullen said, bowing. "I was busy reading some documents to greet you properly."
"Cullen," Feyre crossed her arms. "I told you to call me Feyre."
"You know I can't do that, Inquisitor," Cullen said, his mouth twitching to a sly smile.
"I order you, then." Feyre did not back down.
"As you command," Cullen bowed. "Feyre."
Feyre smiled. It used to be hard to communicate with Cullen at first — he was a Knight Commander of the Templars; she was a Dalish Elf Mage. They were truly opposite of positions, sworn enemies by fate. But they were not so different in character, and the commander was indeed a good man, so much better than any Templar she knew.
In the beginning, he made her swoon with those sly smirks and soft chocolate brown eyes. Despite being the top military man of the inquisition, he was weak against her not so subtle flirtings. She wondered if she flirted with him because she liked him, or he was fun to tease with.
But it was Solas that completely captured her heart. And Feyre felt so bad at leaving Cullen hanging, without any clarity. Still, he took their relationship well, although it was still a little awkward between them.
"So," Feyre paced around the room. "What is it?"
"I don't suppose I know what you mean, Inq— Feyre," Cullen cleared his throat.
Feyre rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Cole told me you were looking for me."
"Ah, Cole," Cullen scratched his head. "Was it in a cryptic message?"
She smiled. "No. But he did say you were thinking of me."
Cullen flushed red, mumbling something incoherent but Feyre swore she heard Cole's name under his breath. Feyre shrugged and paced towards the window, to look at the view of the snowy mountains that cloaked her Skyhold.
"Cullen," she whispered.
"Yes?"
"If you're free right now, would you like to come with me for a walk outside Skyhold?"
Cullen was stunned. This was the first time he was invited by the Inquisitor with something other than a chess match or Wicked Grace. He did not want to admit the effect she had on him. How his vulnerable heart agitatingly fluttered when she was near. How it pained him to see her and Solas together. How he longed for her.
He respected her. As the leader of their organization and as a person. Her flirtings might have been teasing just to pass time, but he enjoyed it, no matter how it left him embarrassed by himself.
Cole must have read his mind, and what great timing it was when he was thinking of her. He couldn't stop! She was like another kind of lyrium, except it made him feel light and refreshed, and not in pain.
"I'll assemble a group of soldiers to accompany us, Feyre. Master Dennett will prepare us horses for comfort—"
Feyre shook her head. "I said walk, not parade, Cullen." She smiled, walking towards him. "Just us. I think two's a company, yes?"
"Yes, Inquisitor."
There was nothing except snow and barren trees miles away from Skyhold. Feyre was huddled together with a thick fur cloak, her staff hidden inside. Cullen was still sporting his fur cloak and steel armor, a sword on his right side. He looked better than before, she noticed. He must have overcome his lyrium addiction. She felt proud.
Seeing just the white blanket of snow stretching out for miles emptied her thoughts. She does not have the luxury to worry about a broken heart when the world is about to face its doom soon.
They decided to stop and rest. Cullen offered to pick up dry wood to start a fire, but Feyre just whipped her hand and an undying flame sprouted from the snowy ground, warming them right away.
"Is there something wrong?" Cullen asked. "I don't really mean to pry."
"Would you believe me if I said there wasn't?"
Cullen chuckled. "No. I believe there is a lot of things wrong in this world."
Feyre turned to look at him. "And what are those?"
"Corypheus is one thing," Cullen shrugged. They chuckled, their laughs loud amongst the silence of the mountain. "The other is the large hole in the sky. Another is how Josie keeps on winning Wicked Grace."
Feyre laughed. "Are you sure it's on Josie or is it because you don't know how to play?"
Cullen rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure I'm at a handicap when it comes to gambling and dealings with money. Josie must have picked it up with her time as a bard before."
"I've never been a bard," Feyre said. "But I still beat you at it."
Cullen scoffed, crossing his arms. "Pure luck."
"I think I might fit in with those Nobles and their gamblings very well."
"I'll have a word with Varric as to not to give you any stupid ideas."
They laughed together, huddling next to each other to keep themselves warmer. The sun was starting to get low, and the air was getting chillier. They should be heading back by now, but she wanted to stay more.
"I've been meaning to ask…" Cullen started.
"Hmm?"
"Your… markings…" Cullen sheepishly mentioned. "They are gone."
Feyre reflexively put a hand on her cheeks, where her vallaslin used to be. They were paler than her skin complexion, as the complexity of swirls and lines decorated her face. "Yes, they are."
Cullen glanced at her. "How? I may know little about the culture of the elves, but I know that those markings cannot be undone."
"There was a spell Solas used," Feyre managed to get out. Saying his name made the splinters of her heart pierce her once more. It hurt as bad as it was as a whole. Cullen sensed her discomfort.
"With or without your markings," Cullen started. "You are still you. And it does not change who you are. I still see you as the beautiful elven mage with the kindest and bravest heart."
Her eyes welled up. His words sounded so gentle, that she couldn't help but tear up. All of the pain she felt flowed through her tears, and she bawled her eyes out once more for the pain of the burden she carries, and the pain of her first heart break.
Cullen sat by her the entire time, rubbing her cold fingers with his hands. It was at this moment that Cullen realized how she was still a fragile, young lady. That despite being the strongest leader, she cannot swallow all of the pain she is feeling. And it is his duty as her adviser to support and assist her in her needs.
As her adviser, nothing more.
They returned to Skyhold feeling lighter than when they left it. The moon was already high, and people were heading to the tavern for supper and mead. Feyre and Cullen had not stopped chatting since their way back. She learned more of Cullen than she ever intended, and Cullen learned things about her that she never told anyone else. She felt much lighter, as if spilling these secrets freed her from additional burdens.
"Hey, you!" Sera called from the table. Everyone in Feyre's circle was huddled by the table for supper, something they all do at the end of a week. Feyre jolted to a stop as she saw Solas at the end of the table, who was staring at her and Cullen. She could not read his expression, but he looked away.
"Been out together, yeah?" Sera teased. "Oooh, a fun time in the snow?"
"Sera," Varric cleared his throat. Sera stuck her tongue out at him.
"Come, Feyre," Josephine called. "The chef from Val Royeaux prepared this specially for you."
"Thank you, Josie," Feyre smiled, taking a seat beside her and Leliana. Her stomach rumbled fiercefully, but she couldn't take a bite. Her mouth felt bitter, her heart heavier, but she couldn't stop glancing at Solas. What was he feeling? Did it break him like how it broke her? Did he really love her? Was it all a desperate attempt to feel some happiness in a world of chaos?
"Uh, boss," Iron bull called. Feyre looked up. He raised a finger, then chugged down his full mug of warm mead empty. He belched. Josephine gave him a look, while Sera cackled loudly. "Anyway, my boys heard about a dragon by Storm Coast. They asked around, and found out that there was an island where the dragon lived. Folk's call it Dragon Island." Iron bull grinned widely. "I was thinking we could take down that beauty tomorrow."
"Ooh, I do need a vial of dragon's blood," Vivienne chimed in. "The court called on for my services and coincidentally, dragon's blood is part of the ingredient." She reached out and put a hand on Feyre's hand. "Darling, your help is very much appreciated."
Feyre smiled tightly. "I'll do what I can, Viv."
"Dorian," Cassandra spoke up. The hall was silent the moment she said his name. Dorian was surprised as well. The Seeker was very obvious of her dislike towards the Tevinter mage, and calling his attention was the last thing they thought she would do.
"Yes, Cassandra?" Dorian smirked, clearly amused at her. "I'm assuming you need my help on something. Otherwise, you would return to glaring at me."
Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Word has spread on Nevarra that a certain lover of yours is a Pentaghast." Sera snorted loudly.
"My, I know for a fact I don't have a lover in Nevarra," Dorian feigned surprise, enjoying the slight turn of events of the evening.
"Kenrick does not live in Nevarra," Cassandra pointed out. "Not anymore, to say the least. He is my brother. The fifth of our siblings."
Dorian's eyes sparkled. "Kenny was a delight. Teasing him was the best part. Perhaps I ought to ask for your blessing, is that why you are opening the topic, Cassandra?"
"Please!" Cassandra blurted out, throwing her hands up. "I could care less who my brother dates. But my father, I wonder; would he approve a Tevinter lover?"
"Well, then," Dorian smiled wide. "He would gladly get along with my father."
Everybody laughed. Even Feyre forgot the ache in her chest as she laughed along with the important people in her life. Thinking back, months ago, how everybody seemed to tolerate each other's company. How Cassandra and Varric used to despise each other, but now lesser; how Blackwall — Thom Rainier — always seemed aloof, isolating himself from others; how Dorian put up his walls and threw a facade of not caring about anything with his smart mouth and endless flirting; how Iron Bull earned her utmost trust, despite being a double agent; how Feyre could not bring herself to trust Vivienne, as she was very cunning, and yet also earned it; how Sera joined their cause out of whim, and found a reason to fight; how Josephine used to think that connections and gold solves problems but now realizing that it's not always like that when there is a team to work with; how Leliana kept to herself her grief, agony, and misery of losing Divine Justinia, but now confiding her sadness to people she is close with; how Cullen was awkward around her, unknowing how to deal with someone so opposite of him, in character and position, and yet worked his way to close the distance between him and her.
And how Solas, a quiet lone wolf, found himself with her, and how Feyre found herself with him. How it was possible to see their souls weave into one.
At least, up until he broke away from her.
A seat rumbled, breaking Feyre's thoughts. Her eyes unconsciously found their way to the sound and saw Solas standing up, still silent.
"Crashin' in early?" Blackwall remarked.
"I have duties I must attend to," Solas replied, the same nonchalant voice he uses to everyone. "Excuse me." And he turned away, walking out of the hall.
Feyre's body moved in her own accord. She did not know why her hands pushed herself up from her seat, her legs moving her to chase after Solas. Or why her heart drummed like a bee's wing.
She did not mind the eyes following her actions. The only thing on her sight is the back of Solas, walking further away from her like it was yesterday. She ran after him, and reached him by the arm.
Touching his skin sent electric shocks all over her body. Solas was startled as well, looking back at who touched him. His eyes softened in a painful gaze when he saw who it was.
"I need to talk to you," Feyre breathed out.
"What is there to talk about, Inquisitor?" Solas mumbled, shifting his body to face Feyre. It was a subtle move, yet it was clear to Feyre that he did not want to be touched by her. Having been called inquisitor was already a message to her that it's over. Still, she longed to be called by him ma vhenan. My heart.
"Us," Feyre whispered back, hoping not to choke on her forming tears. "I need an explanation."
"I would rather have you focus on your battle with Corypheus. If you need anything about that, feel free to approach me," Solas replied coolly. "I'll be retreating in my quarters. Have a good night." And he turned his back on her once more, and this time Feyre did not chase after him. She stood there, now completely shattered, staring at the back of what once held her heart.
It took every bit of strength of Solas to not turn around and kiss her, right there and then. It broke him as much as it broke her to hurt her so badly. It was never his intention. But to stay with her under false pretenses, he could not bear to give her that.
She did not know the truth about him. How he was Fen Harel, how he was the one who gave Corypheus the orb, how he started all these madness, how he wanted to stop it.
It was all part of his plan. Join the cause as a wandering apostate who happen to know a vast information of the Fade, and stop it. It was not part of the plan to fall in love with the Dalish elf who was in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
Who could have thought, that nursing her during the nights she was still a prisoner, would make him think about her all the days that came by? She was lovely — even unconscious, he was charmed. Thousand of years in slumber, and the moment he felt alive was when he saw her running towards them, fighting her way through the horde, holding her hand to close the very first rift. It still gave his finger electric tingles, thinking back at how her hand was small and smooth, how her face was dirty and exhausted, but still beautiful.
It was her eyes that made him lock himself in her gaze. She held a strong gaze, looking at the world with warmth and kindness and trust. She was pure, and he was farther from purity.
Whenever they were together, he pretended not to notice her subtle flirting, the pink flush on her cheeks, the way her eyes looked at him, the small smile she had, and the effect she had on him. He could not count the times he wanted embrace her, to make her his.
But reality had kept him from making love to her. He was Solas but he was not him. Not anymore. And she did not know who he truly was. If he made love to her, it would be under a lie. She was far too precious and important to be toyed like that.
It was for both of them when he broke it off. She deserved someone better than him. She deserved to give herself to someone true. He did not deserve her love. He did not deserve anything.
Feyre was the light that gave him hope of a bright, happy world. But his darkness still cloaked that light, and he could not bear tainting it. He set her free, because she deserves a future with purity and happiness.
And that future will never come with him.