Foreword: I admit I've read all the spoilers for the game and DL, but have only made it to just past the Winter Palace. I have not done extensive research but I know how I want the story to flow so if there are inconsistencies in the world feel free to notify me. I've already worked on the first few chapters, so I figured I'd load them but I am busy with work, writing my own story, and this so I cannot guarantee updates regularly. Without further ado,

Prologue: Indulgent Dreaming

Leone sat at her desk, an empty flute for champagne at hand. Instead she chose to sway the half empty bottle gingerly back and forth with her strong right hand. Candlelight surrounded her desk like a shrine with the stacks of documents and paperwork haphazardly organized. In the soft, flickering light her dark, velvet gray hair appeared black as night matching her gentle eyebrows. The windows were open to the balcony as the moon shone and lit the cobblestone. Her bold, ruby eyes followed the glowing white trail of light that the moon created from the balcony to the inside of her chambers. Tears swelled up a bit but she bit her lip and took another swig. She grimaced at the burn, her full cupid bow lips sneering back and glistening. Long lashes brushed against her skin the color of burnt clay as she rubbed where her vallaslin had been.

Now safely in this comforting haven she didn't have to act certain and strong. Despite all the time and effort she had invested in the Inquisition, she could not stay. The friends she had made were dear to her heart, and even now through tears she chuckled at Iron Bull's obscene tales and Dorian's unbridled confidence. Both had spent many nights with her at the Herald's Rest trying various libations and sharing stories, Varric had occasionally added a few tales of his own. Every life she saved had been valuable to her beyond measure. Her time had been well spent here trying to put the world back together and perhaps even change it by small measure slowly.

Ferelden and Orlais had prospered beneath the security and promise of the Herald of Andraste.

Inside her own world had shattered and, in a way, the false arm she had learned to adapt to comforted her. Its contrast represented physically all she had been forced to cope with as the Herald.

By all rights she had grown in wits, charm and strength. The Anchor was gone, but her body was fitter and sturdier bearing her sword and shield than it ever had been. Age had firmed her face and even though she was no young doe, it was definitely full of graceful beauty with poise and humor. The company she kept included people she had never dared dream to meet. Not to mention the high nobles of all the land had looked at her with either derision as the knife-eared git who suddenly had power or a few that even cast a look of respect, and even rarer admiration. Then she had fallen in love only to have that same elf walk away...correction...an elf who was seen as a god.

At this time if anyone asked her, "Is this for you or for him?" she was afraid to answer, because while sarcastic and commanding was in her nature, she didn't want to lie. In truth she wasn't entirely sure if her choice was to serve her intentions or his own. When she confessed outright to her companions her intentions to save him...she knew the looks on their faces. Full of fear and concern for her fate – how far would she follow?

They would not understand, she told herself, it was not her intention to join him. No, she did not agree with his plan – but if she could challenge the great Fen'Harel then that was the only chance she needed. A moment later she doubted herself, nearing the end of this bottle of Dragon Piss as she took another slow swallow. Was she just a fool? Perhaps one of many numerous lovers thrown to the wayside by some false god? After all he had lived for centuries beyond imagination. In what way could some Dalish elf with an open mind and fate do to stop the plans of a being equivalent to a god?

These moments of self pity dwell within her heart. She set the nearly empty bottle on the desk, beginning to remove her clothes and stumbled slightly with her breeches. Her usually tightly pulled back dark silver locks of hair crept into view and she threw her head back. Standing here in her smalls she suddenly laughed.

No.

She was no fool. The world had already judged her most of her life, some orphan elf that the Lavellan clan had taken mercy on. A strong enough warrior sent to observe the Conclave and return with news. Circumstances had brought her here, but she had paved the road. What did she care if they judged her now?

After all, she had led the Inquisition with little choice beyond a feeling of responsibility for those looking up to her as the only bearer of the Anchor. She had been pushed and pulled for so long with the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. 'Should have been Iron Bull,' she thought and giggled drunkenly, her lithe tanned fingers gracing her lips to cover her smile. He looks as if he could carry the world on his shoulders and had assisted in carrying many an injured or drunken companion to safety. Sighing she snuffed out all but one candle, carrying it to her bed side slowly. Drunk she may be but at least she was mildly aware. Perhaps it would be nice, attempting to save at least one person instead of thousands. In saving him she could also prevent chaos if she was successful. Worst case – she died, failing him and the world, but with no regrets. Leone laughed darkly, nothing flowed stronger in her blood than stubbornness.

Why did he take the time to remove the Anchor?

Why did he reveal all these truths after nothing but betrayal?

Why kiss her and look as he did?

Why didn't he just kill her, did it matter?

Too many questions but the truest question of all – Would knowing a single answer to one of those change her mind?

'No,' she thought, giggling to herself at the insanity of emotions and pain.

Tonight, though, she would laugh and enjoy her immense bed with its billowing drapes pulled back so she may see the moonlight. Despite the vibrant burgundy cloth covering her bed and the velvet comforter, nothing could compare to the brilliant flaming crimson of her eyes. Some were terrified of her gaze because the flare within made her enemies think of demons. Usually it brought her some glee to lower her shield in battle, lunging in with her sword and watching the terror as the enemy she fought caught sight of them.

Not Solas though.

He had always met her gaze with kindness, intrigue and after some questions a passion she had never expected. It seemed as if he...took pleasure in focusing his sights on her eyes them as if they were a treasure. A magic of the Fade placed in life before him.

She paused, feeling the negative pressure of the drinks hitting her suddenly. Suddenly the cool breeze hit her in her underclothes, no longer a gentle wave. Her body shivered but somehow...somehow it calmed her with the tears she held back all day. Smiling and pretending her heart wasn't out there and out of reach brought her so much exhaustion throughout the day. Pretending had helped after some time, though, as her smiles now had come easier and her companions looked at her with less concern.

A few sniffs and wipes at her eyes strained from tears, another quiet calm settled on her soul.

He had lied and betrayed them all the while.

But not what they had.

Those looks had not been false, the pain, those smiles and desperate touches.

It would have been kinder to never have started, but would she really prefer to have never experienced those moments of happiness?

No.

The world would judge her, just like any other day, but it was her own judgment she lived with and thus far it had carried her through trials she had never thought she'd manage. With these thoughts and a body chilled she got up, closed the doors to her balcony and returned to bed.

She would not deny her feelings, she was not owed his love or devotion as if love was some barter system. It just was.

A piece of her heart was afraid to fall asleep, though. The first few months after their last encounter she had a variety of dreams – from memories of their first kiss to nightmares that he'd slaughter her as she stood in his way. Then in the background she would see a giant wolf, many times she thought she had imagined it. Some foolery her mind created to cope, but it never fit. The wolf did not follow a pattern but...something was off for no matter how far or near it came, it was always clear and...real. A few nights in her dreams she had moved towards it only to watch it run away.

It felt odd that he might be watching her dreams. Especially when she could barely handle them. The first few weeks of them she realized it was the illusion of happiness that crushed her most when she awoke.

Most cruel was the one only a few nights before she had made her announcement. It was a simple day, training with Cullen's soldiers and even teasing him into a sparring match before Iron Bull aggressively requested his own opportunity against his boss. Her cognitive wheels had been processing her next step and remaining in the Inquisition had made her uneasy of late. Exhausted she had flopped into her bed with abandon and satisfaction.

Then the dream happened.

She was in a forest, watching horses and halla filter through the gaps in the trees and light breaking in the slight openings of the canopy. It felt warm in her dream and she heard a laugh which made her turn, she felt more than saw that she was wearing a common tunic and breeches light as a feather. Her hair was free in the wind and in the distance she saw Varric waving to her – wait – no, not her.

It was someone else. A smaller creature, skin a bit lighter than her own and long, auburn hair falling in rivulets down its back. She could not tell its gender but it ran to Varric as if he were a traveling uncle come bearing gifts. Leone frowned, 'Uncle...that's a strange thought.' But then it looked back at her and she knew instantly the moment it laid eyes on her. Her heart screamed this child was hers, this urchin she had never imagined before. It was the child's eyes that took up her focus though as if the dream wished to show her a secret. They were deep set under slender brows, but still the brilliant blue within shone in the distance. Those eyes...that soft hidden smile. She knew who those belonged to and from the edges of her vision she had seen his frame come from the trees towards the child. Long legs covered in pine green breeches and a plain tunic...it could be no one else. His face began to turn, light hitting the curve of his scalp and the flushed lips.

She had woken up and the ache in her chest after hit her harder than any nightmare she'd suffered before. For nights she had forced herself to down a few drinks before falling asleep.

Leone lay her head down finally, watching the wick of the candle burn slowly and constant before her as the wind picked up suddenly outside. It began to howl around the castle and she sighed, pulling the bountiful blankets around her, knowing the cold couldn't touch her for now. She would take the comforts she could the next few days as she set her plans into motion.

"Solas…," she whispered as the wind howled strongly and shook the sealed doors slightly, a final tear making its trek down her shapely cheek winding over the apple down into the curve of her neck. It slowed and the trail of salty memories ceased its movement between her breasts against her warm heart.

No one would know at that moment, at that time, the great betrayer sat in his own hidden chamber dealing with his own anguish. A blazing fire kept him company and a heavy goblet waved precariously in his hand as he held his face in his hands. He had confessed he should be punished and nothing had ever hurt quite like this. Doing the right thing had always brought him comfort, no matter who hated him or judged him in the aeons of his life. Much of his existence had been as a lone wolf, observing the other Evanuris at a respectable distance.

He had woken in this new world, realizing instead of fixing the wrongs of his world – he had brought a new tragedy upon those he had sought to protect instead.

And then...to be reliant upon this Dalish warrior...some young creature with a ravenous mind seeking education and knowledge to rival his own. While she had treated all with respect she had also subtly revealed her own ideologies. At times her thoughts opposed his own but with such a conviction he could do naught but watch her. He wondered about her opinions and considered the depth of her words, her actions. Then...that early afternoon in Haven he had made a subtle comment, not realizing his thoughts had escaped his lips and eagerly he had flirted with her.

She had been surprised he saw, his honesty had garnered a blush nearly matching the red of her vallaslin. Those glorious red eyes had widened greatly that time, just as her lips had when he had returned her kiss in the Fade. Gods, he thought as he replayed the memory every night over and over, pressing his calloused palms into his eyes. His now were red from lack of sleep and tears, puffed and swollen.

For weeks after their last encounter he had carried on in front of his army, gathering them and ordering them with his headdress covering his face to the tip of his elegant nose. Every day he planned where to go to find the strongest Elvhen artifacts. He also needed to replace his orb so he may begin to gather strength to free these modern elves before bringing down the Veil. It was during the few hours he should be resting, sleeping and gathering his strength that he sat here in a dimly lit bedroom before a raging fireplace reliving every moment. Her laughter. Her smile. Her fierce cries as she defended all of them with her shield and sword despite her lithe figure.

He recalled in each fight how she would dive forward, screaming and taunting the enemies to focus on her. At first he felt indignant that he need stand back. Fen'Harel allowing some Dalish child to protect him? But then the time he had led them into a battle she had been furious. Not precisely at him, more the enemy who had charged, but it was a memory he recalled easily.

Their first foray into the Hinterlands she had still been nervous ordering them all about.

"So…do you travel in the Fade too, Leone?" Varric asked curiously as they had been looking for elfroot and heading on the path to meet Mother Giselle.

"Oh, I'm not quite as lucky as Solas," Leone had chuckled lightly, her mail covered hand scratching the back on her neck. So early in their journey they had not found much loot yet to include a helmet and Cassandra had been pressuring the Inquisitor to take her own. Leone had refused, wanting Cassandra to be protected.

"So you think our friend here is lucky to travel so?"

"I think the sights must be fascinating. I love hearing the tales he shares. I cannot imagine what it must be like to see such a place and control it," she sighed, spotting some iron she quickly chose to excavate and returned to them.

"Looks like you have a fan, Solas," Varric quipped, watching the older elf raise an eyebrow at him.

"Ah – well, our Inquisitor has yet to read your Hard in Hightown series," Solas suggested kindly, "She may end up preferring those to Fade discussions." He paused for a moment, hearing something off in the trees and stepped in that direction, proceeding a bit off from their little group. Probably just a fennec fox frolicking in the brush.

"You haven't?" Varric gasped at Leone in mock horror. Cassandra sighed heavily and rolled her eyes as Varric quickly explained the series premise. Suddenly, they heard a shout and Leone rushed to the source with her two companions following close behind. A soldier had rushed Solas and knocked him back, but the apostate had a barrier in place. Two archers stood back aiming their arrows. In his mind Solas was not concerned at all. These were random bandits and easy to defeat even if he was on his ass for a split second.

Leone had rushed in, her sword behind her shield and her slender body had flitted between him and the soldier. In the moment he took to stand she had stood like a wall, feet planted as the soldier slammed into her body. She had grunted and slid back a bit, her body pressing up against Solas as she braced herself before releasing a loud cry. The warrior was caught off guard and with a twisting motion she had moved from Solas and slashed her sword across the enemy's body.

Once the battle was over she came to his side, looking over him like some mother hen.

"Are you injured?" she asked hurriedly, giving him a glance over.

"No, I am fine," he had said.

"I apologize for being distracted, I was not focused and you might have been hurt," she said, her brow furrowed in anger at herself.

"Worry not, da'len. I am fine," he said, placing a comforting hand on her armored shoulder. She had smiled sadly at him and nodded. That day forward she never let any of her companions out of sight. Even Iron Bull. She would watch them all carefully and place herself at the brunt of attacks to defend them. Many nights he had imagined that first touch...accidental as it was. After he could always determine when she was near by her scent.

She was a dream he had never dared to consider.

He had made so many mistakes in the past it made his head swim.

This plan...like so many others felt like air slipping through his fingers as he tried to grasp hold of his fate. Selfish as it may have been, for once in his immortal life he had felt right...he had felt at peace and felt...he had felt.

It overwhelmed him completely. Since pushing her away and hardening himself to her he had become a man obsessed. This cause he had built over a year while hiding within the Inquisition, planning to sacrifice everything. At the moment he struggled to find himself in the tatters of his plan. Such as now, drinking more than he ever had and humming a melody to himself, a song that had played in the Herald's Rest one night when he had spent time with her and the others. That alone may not seem wrong...but surrounding him on the worn, wood floor in a crescent were drawings.

All of her.

Some she was aware of, when he was 'practicing' her image for the frescoes. At this time he could not recall if he ever even used them for the fresco. In truth, he had made them for himself, to keep in his sketch book. An image of her in the gardens planting an Embrium seed, one of her atop a mare staring into the distance, the day she became Inquisitor, the look on her face after their first kiss, the way she sprawled on his couch reading to herself, her expression as she admired his paintings...every moment he could capture. Dead center, the one he stared at most was one of two he had painted of her. He had asked if he could paint her and she chose the library in Dorian's chair so Dorian had kept her entertained as she sat while Solas focused.

A few looks had been sent his way he knew. Dorian was quite intuitive and most of the castle knew of the relationship between Leone and himself. During the painting Dorian had teased the Inquisitor for her bored expression but left after awhile becoming bored himself. When he left, he came behind Solas for a moment to look it over and leaned close.

"My, my, I dare say, I never knew you had such a sensual touch Solas. It's positively erotic," he chimed with an evil grin watching Lavellan bolt upright looking flushed.

"Given your usual discussions I never took you for a conservative," Solas stated simply, ignoring the man. There was nothing erotic about the painting, but seeing Lavellan blush made him reconsider the idea.

"Just teasing dear...although I wouldn't put it past your hahren to have some...personal collection...hmmm?" Dorian said with a purr, laughing as he walked away. That...wasn't a lie and Solas felt Lavellan's gaze heavy on him which he refused to meet, hoping the heat in his face wasn't as obvious as it felt.

He had been nearly done hours later when he had looked up, seeing his love tense and stiff. Until now he had done all but the face. Taking a moment she watched him get up and walk over.

"Are we done?" she had asked pleasantly, stretching.

"Not quite," he said, watching her lips purse in question. His voice had come out deep, heavy. Excitement spread over her face as he came near and in the small alcove he chuckled softly, brushing his lips against hers as she released a soft sigh. At first he planned to pull back, but then he had rested his knee to the side of her thigh on the chair as he felt her body relax and give. He allowed just a few more moments, holding her neck in his palm and massaging the back of it. She was flushed as was he when he stepped back to sit and finish his work, laughing as her disappointment spread across her face.

"Smile for me, vhenan," he said, his voice still husky and his lips red from their kiss. Her face lit at the word and he moved quickly to capture it.

Every night since he had last kissed her he sat in his room, refusing to forget her face.

Reliving every memory as if it might fly away.

And memorizing every line and curve of the faces he had drawn splayed before him.

Sometimes he would scream or cry.

But he took great pains to not sully the images, for she was a light that had warmed him in a way that neither world had ever shown to him before.

In the Fade he would travel all over the realm for new experiences and discoveries in an attempt to forget her if even for a few minutes.

He thought with time, perhaps he would reign in these feelings, he would find some new memories or Spirits in the Fade to remind him of his goal and his cause. If anything, they had gotten worse as now he had begun to force himself to stay from her dreams until he had explored other areas first. Now, he would only allow himself to visit her dreams once every few days, watching her and wishing.

He had seen all her dreams, suffered through them and tried to keep the nightmares away best he could without interfering too much. Certain dreams now he took as memories, futures that could never be...could they?

"Stop," he said out loud, his lips drawing into a thin line as he spoke to himself harshly. This could not continue. Already he had faltered by venturing to the outskirts of Skyhold once. It would have been easy for him to make it to her balcony...to look into the room that had been his...theirs…steal one more kiss…

"Fenedhis!" he shouted to the ceiling, standing and shaking in anger. His eyes flashed like cosmic lightning and a vein in his neck pulsed rapidly. He had a duty, he was alone...no one could change what he had done to his people. Reaffirming his thoughts, reminding himself of his obligation. He owed his people for all that had befallen them in his absence. Memories of the Dalish and city elves he met flowed to his mind.

He would save his people. Love could not grow in this environment, on this path.

Var lath ver suledin.

She had shouted it at him as he had bent to her. Vhenan never raised her voice...her conviction...it had brought him near tears and for a moment he believed her. So he had taken another kiss not meaning to.

Crouching to the floor again his fingers stroked the vibrant painting on the floor.

Those words echoed like a prayer in his mind.

Var lath ver suledin.

He would sleep...if only to visit her dreams.