Hey all! I'm only a bit sorry this isn't TGoY, since this idea has been bouncing around in my head for a few days now. I won't chatter much, just say that I adore Inquisition and won't be leaving it for a while yet. As always, I love hearing from you :)
Ending spoiler warnings, but if you've not already finished the game and care about spoilers, this site is probably not the best place for you XD
It was Varric who noticed first. 'Hey, where'd Chuckles get to?' Not worried, they all saw he was fine after the fight, if distressed over the orb. Probably thought Solas had wandered off to think, or was scouting ahead.
Aisling shook her head without looking around. 'He's not coming.' She'd known that before she'd even turned to check. Knowing still hadn't stopped that hollow feeling when she saw the empty rise, like a stone dropped into a drained well. It was still there now, keeping everything at bay. She should be angry, sad, scared. The emotions were lingering at the edges, waiting to sweep in. But her legs ached, her shoulder burned from failing to dodge one of the dragon's attacks fully, and her whole left arm was cramping, the pain from the Anchor burrowing deep into her palm and tracking all the way up to her shoulder. It didn't usually hurt like this, but the last time she'd closed the Breach she'd immediately passed out. She was stronger now, but that just meant she felt the full effect of sealing an even bigger Breach and banishing a would-be god to the depths of the Fade.
Above all, she was exhausted. Just one more step. Now another. And again. All she could focus on was plodding along, even as she heard the others pause and stop behind her. If she stopped now, she wouldn't be able to keep walking. She heard Varric's hesitation before he spoke.
'Not... shit.' She could picture him running his hand over his face. He'd done that a lot lately. 'Look, Ash...' No Ash Tree this time. Must be serious, even though he'd lost the words he meant to say. Didn't matter anyway.
It would take a knife for Vivienne to lose her tongue. 'No doubt what Varric means to say is, are you alright, my dear?' Odd really, that she and Vivienne got on. They'd never agree on some things, especially fashion sense, but they respected each other. That was enough.
'I will be, when we get back to camp and I can sit down before my legs fall off,' Aisling said, picking her way around a rock the size of a deepstalker rather than disrupt her gait and attempt stepping over it. Why the Breach had to have been in the middle of a mountain range, instead of somewhere sensible with roads, Aisling would never know and forever hate Corypheus for, on top of everything else. Just one more thing to add to the pile, along with ruining the world twice over.
She didn't recognise the sigh, but then Cassandra was at her side, offering her arm. 'You never hesitate to look out for us. Yet you never expect the same for yourself,' she said.
It was small, but it felt like a smile when nothing else had in days. 'Thank you,' she said quietly, and let Cassandra pull her good arm over her broad shoulders. It was a bit awkward, with the human warrior being taller than her, but Aisling didn't much care. It took the pressure off her rebelling knees and hips, and it felt good to just lean on someone for a change. She didn't even mind when Bull only half-jokingly suggested he carry her back to camp. Then Sera suggested he carry her draped across his horns, and it devolved into banter and laughter that felt too normal for a bleak mountainside, scattered with corpses new and old.
Laughter didn't belong here. But the scar didn't belong in the sky, and the Inquisition defied 'normal' by its mere existence. It was fitting, really, that when they finally staggered into camp their mood was almost as high as that of the soldiers waiting for them.
Aisling got used to the sound of cheering. When they arrived, when she stood straight and briefly thanked them all before being hustled off to the healer's tent by Dorian, when she left the healer's tent all bandaged up. When the troops broke open the ale casks and toasted everyone and everything in sight, and her several times as they got progressively drunker. She sat with them, but didn't join the heavy drinking. She still couldn't feel her core, and didn't want to find out what would happen if she drank feeling like this. Vivienne had sniffed disdainfully at the ale and had somehow found a bottle of wine. No fancy name or particular year, but 'surely better than that foul concoction' everyone else was getting shitfaced on. Vivienne had shared the bottle with her, and Aisling accepted. She knew herself well enough that half a bottle wouldn't get her drunk after the hearty stew that she'd bolted down in the healer's tent.
The crowd cheered again when she finally stood to retire to her tent. She'd found a smile somewhere and obligingly bowed, which got another roar of approval, before escaping to the relative quiet of the fleet of pitched tents. She passed Cole on the way, his arms full of bandages and elfroot stuffed into his belts. He'd stayed with the healers the whole time, but she'd caught him staring out at the celebration in unbridled glee before she'd been released. 'They're happy,' he'd explained when she'd asked. 'There's pain here, so much, but even they are happy. It spreads, grows, infects, and it helps with the pain. We won, so they helped. They mattered. There's something other than the pain for them.'
So why couldn't she feel it? She, of everyone, should be celebrating, deserved to be, to feel the victory.
Instead she felt as muffled as the distant sounds of the party from behind her closed tent flaps.
She sank down onto her simple cot, one hand pressed to her bad shoulder. The elfroot salve had taken the heat away, leaving just a vague itch she'd been forbidden from scratching.
Aisling let the breath sigh out of her, closing her dry, uncomfortable eyes on the soothing darkness of her tent. Everything had been so hectic since the battle, it was like she hadn't had time to think, yet that was all she'd done. Think and worry and wonder.
He's not coming.
She slowly picked the laces of her boots loose and kicked them to the floor, easing herself onto her good side and twisting to get the blankets out from underneath herself and over her.
He's not coming. But is he not coming back?
There was a difference. He'd disappeared for a whole day after his friend died. Losing the orb had clearly hit him hard. He might just need time to think.
You're fooling yourself. What he'd said before vanishing had made that clear, but…
But he'd promised. After this was all over, when there was nothing to be distracted from, he would explain. He owed her that, at least. How could he explain if he just… left?
He never meant to explain. Just pretty words to keep you quiet.
Would he do that?
He already has.
Aisling turned her head into her pillow, turned away from that angry little whisper. The way it squashed her nose and pressed into her eye distracted her enough for a few seconds, and she settled comfortably again. She unfurled her hand, traced the jagged line of the Anchor with her fingertip.
The first time it had ripped open, she'd been so confused she didn't even know if she was channelling power out or drawing the rift in, and the whole time his hand wrapped firmly around her wrist. His fingers would have met if it hadn't been for her vambrace. Then the rift snapped shut, he'd let go and she'd just stared at him like a bewildered halla foal. Not her best first impression – or second, technically, since he'd tended to her while she was unconscious – but he didn't seem to mind. She'd latched onto him as the only person even attempting to explain how her life had just been ripped apart. The others just had an attitude of 'we don't know, don't particularly want to know, we just want to fix it', which was all well and good when they didn't have a direct link to the Fade in their hand.
Solas had respected her. He didn't talk down to her or offer false reassurances. If he didn't know the answer, he said so, but also offered his best guess. They didn't always agree, but they always tried to understand. They both appreciated that.
Yet now, when she needed to understand more than ever, he was gone, taking the answers with him.
Or…
It was late now. Early hours of the morning, definitely, and Solas didn't have a camp full of drunken soldiers to keep him from seeking his bedroll and desperately needed sleep. From when his friend died, Aisling gathered he sought out the Fade for solace when he was distressed, like now.
Her Anchor gave her a stronger connection to the Fade than any non-mages, maybe even stronger than mages themselves. She couldn't cast magic, but maybe…
The Fade shapes itself to your expectations, fears and desires. It might work.
The healer had dropped off a sleeping draught earlier in case she had trouble sleeping. It wouldn't be surprising, after everything that had happened. And she was suddenly too awake, too aware, too excited to sleep naturally. She wouldn't take the whole thing – if she did she wouldn't dream at all – but enough to help her relax and drift off. She could taste elfroot and blood lotus, smooth but with a hint of bitterness to it.
Waiting for it to take effect was agonising. It felt like a race. He wouldn't have woken up yet, would he? And he couldn't still be moving, not at this time, not after that battle. He has to still be asleep. It was a slim chance she was betting on, but the unlikely and outright impossible had a habit of finding her.
Andruil, guide me in my hunt.
Pine. Sharp, familiar, home.
It was a quiet clearing, maybe five miles west of Wycome. She would come here a lot to gather elfroot or set snares when the clan was nearby.
The clan was behind her, camp just visible through the trees. Keeper Deshanna had the children gathered around the fire as she and the hahrens told them the old tales. Aisling couldn't hear the words, but hahren Pennor's enthusiastic gestures and acting were just the same as when he'd told her the story, years ago. Fen'harel and the courser. One hand swept in a rapid circle, the other pinching together like a bite, the wolf trying to shake the dog from his tail.
Aisling took a step towards them, intending to listen and join in – it had been so long since she'd simply sat with her clan and enjoyed the peace, but... there was something... she was here for something else-
The Anchor. Solas. The haziness of normal dreaming fell away, and she sank into the Fade fully aware.
Before the Anchor, the only lucid dream she'd ever had had been a hallucination during an illness. Even after the Breach, it had taken her encounter with Solas for her to be aware she was dreaming. Since then, she'd only tried a few times – and those had all led to him, a few hallways away. It was so much easier to find someone when they were physically close, but now? He could be miles away. The Fade could lead literally anywhere, but that didn't help when her experience in navigating it extended to following the layout of her own fortress to a room she knew well.
You're in the Fade, you're aware you're dreaming. Hard part over. There was a good chance she wouldn't have even 'woken up' inside her dream after all. Now at least, she could at least try to find him.
She looked down at her hand, chewing her lip. The Fade shaped itself according to her expectations, but would that be enough to cross several miles in real distance? No way of knowing except to try it.
Feeling a bit daft and fidgeting, Aisling closed her eyes and focused on Solas. The way his eyes sparked when he was talking about something he loved, or how often she had to prod him to wake him up of a morning, whether in Skyhold or at camp. How he wouldn't even hear someone talking to him when he was absorbed in a book, so she'd have to wave a hand in front of the page to get his attention.
Nothing felt different. She peeked through her lashes and found herself exactly where she had been. The sounds of the children laughing only confirmed it, and she opened her eyes and huffed in annoyance. So maybe just thinking about him wouldn't help. Or maybe only a mage could control the Fade that well. But with the Anchor...
Usually it just reacted on its own, near a rift or when Corypheus and his lackeys messed with it. But she could use it on purpose when pressed – like at Adamant. That massive rift had been all her own doing. But her life had been in danger then, it had been almost instinct. A desperate hope, nothing more.
It's not like you've really tried though, is it?
Alright, so try.
Even in the Fade, her left arm still ached. That made it easier to find the root though, to focus. She still wasn't entirely sure how she did it, but it was like there was a path or tunnel down her arm, through to her palm. She could feel heat and static rushing down it, exploding in green wisps. Around her the Fade pulsed and she jolted. The camp had gone, the clearing empty but for her.
She took that as a good sign.
Closing her eyes helped her focus, and this time she pushed through the Anchor as well. She felt the distortion around her, felt her surroundings begin to change. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, and everything snapped into place. She let go of the Anchor and listened. No camp. No birdsong. Cooler air and stone beneath her feet.
It was a temple, like Mythal's, but new. Tall arches, the mosaics free of ivy and dirt, fountains running with clear water in the courtyard she had entered. The same architecture, from a quick glance, but a different building. No identifying marks or statues, only generic scenes in the mosaics. Halla in a large forest, a waterfall, a pack of wolves howling on the plain. Maybe Andruil or Ghilan'nain, then? But surely there would be clearer signs, surely-
'Aisling?'
At the top of the stairs, leading into the temple, standing from a crouch. The expression on his face was the same as when she'd found him in that cell in the future of Redcliffe – open shock and disbelief. It had faded quickly then, but now he was staring, turning towards her but not leaving his spot.
Say something.
She managed a wobbly smile. 'I'm glad that worked. I'd have felt pretty stupid if it hadn't.'
His gaze dropped to her hand, and understanding finally broke through his frozen surprise. 'You used the Anchor as a focus. Impressive work considering how little training you've had,' he said quietly. His voice shouldn't have carried as far as it did, but the Fade brought it to her nonetheless. He inclined his head to the side, 'sahlin ven.' Something moved, and Aisling noticed the wisp at his side, a barely visible lilac outline. A large dog- no, a wolf. It wove quickly around his legs in affection before bounding away, vanishing through a wall.
Aisling watched it go, found it easier than watching him. 'Another friend, I take it?' She asked, all the while her mind berated her for dancing around the issue. You don't know how much time has passed in the real world. Someone might come to wake you soon.
Solas dipped his head in a nod, almost smiling as he descended the stairs. 'Yes. Wisps may lack a defined sense of self, but they are curious little things, and quite pleasant when not pulled through a rift.'
Aisling bit the inside of her cheek at the mild jab. She had often ranted about wisps after closing rifts. No matter what other demons came through, they had the annoying knack for interrupting her as she tried to disrupt the rift that no other demon seemed to match. 'Well, as long as they have a better sense of timing here, I think I'll get on better with them.' If more came charging in to say 'hi' to their favourite dreamer while she was trying to talk to him however, she'd be hard pressed not to stab them.
Or maybe not. Her knives hadn't appeared with her, and after a moment's thought she decided against conjuring some unless needed. That might not give the best impression, after all.
Solas smiled again, just the barest tilt of his lips she could see now that he was only a few feet away. 'There is no time here, Inquisitor. However, I don't think we will be disturbed, if that is your worry.' He hesitated, looking away as all brevity fled from his face, folding his hands behind him. 'Why did you come?'
Aisling took a breath, her heartbeat picking up. No more distractions now. Just the simple truth, first. 'I was worried about you. We're all exhausted from fighting Corypheus, and then the orb broke, and... I just wanted to make sure you were alright,' she said, her voice dropping into a mumble as she wrapped her arms around herself and looked away. It sounded a weaker reason aloud than it had in her head.
He exhaled softly, not quite a laugh. 'I am... better than I was. I was not so exhausted as to forget my wards before I slept. But you did not experiment with your grasp over the Fade just to make sure I was sleeping safely.'
True enough. Aisling nodded at the wolf mosaic on the floor instead of at him. Talk like you're talking to Cole, when he knows all the help you need is someone to listen. 'I know you left – not me, not then, but the Inquisition. I just... are you coming back?' Give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he does just need time on his own for a while.
A quick glance showed that while she couldn't quite look at him fully, he couldn't take his eyes from her, even though the pain was creeping back in. 'No, lethallan, I am not. Why ask questions you already know the answer to?' He was clenching his hands behind his back, she could see it in the tension in his shoulders.
Aisling nodded, taking a steadying breath. Don't let your voice shake. Please don't shake. 'I know defeating Corypheus was our goal, was the whole point of this, and that losing the orb hurt you, but did you really forget your promise?' She wasn't as casual or as disinterested as she wanted to sound, but at least she didn't sound on the verge of tears even though it was getting harder to swallow. She forced herself to look up at him, to watch for his answer.
He'd closed his eyes, like he was steeling himself. That didn't make the sorrow any less when he faced her again. 'I did not. I won't demean you by pretending otherwise and hiding behind a convenient excuse.'
She drew back, her shoulders straightening and stiffening as she tried to press the hurt down. Anger wasn't so easy to restrain. 'Does your word mean that little to you? What, did you promise me that just to- to shut me up? To stop me asking ques-'
'No.' He was so quick, so certain in his answer, one hand cutting firmly through the air in negation. 'No, Aisling. That was never my intention,' he said, voice and posture softening. That, at least, she believed.
'So why won't you tell me?' She asked in a wretched whisper.
He looked as tormented as she felt, squeezing his eyes shut and almost cringing away like he was suppressing physical pain. 'I cannot, and I am sorry, but please, please don't ask me again.'
It was harder now, her eyes burning, her throat thick. She tried so hard to stop her lips trembling, but couldn't quite hide it as she turned her head away, blinking hard to try and clear her vision. 'Did you ever actually mean to tell me why, at least?' Her voice was too soft, too whispery to not be tearful. She dug her fingers deep into her arms in anger at herself, but it didn't help.
'Yes,' he said, fervent as a prayer. 'When I made that promise, I meant to tell you everything once Corypheus was dealt with.'
He was just a pale, wavering blur, but she fixed her eyes on him anyway. 'So what changed? Why could you tell me then, but you cant tell me now?'
He bowed his head, his shoulders dropping. He didn't want to say, but was taking the breath to do so anyway. 'The orb,' he said heavily. 'When it shattered, I... I had intended to stay a little longer, had it remained whole.'
She nodded tightly, trying to steady her breathing, trying not to let the pain show on her face. 'So it's my fault then,' she said quietly.
'No-' he started, eyes wide, but this time she cut him off.
'It is though, isn't it? I broke the orb, so it's my fault. If I'd just left it alone-'
'Then you may not have had the power to seal the Breach alone, and everything we worked for may have been lost,' he said firmly, stepping forward and reaching out in an appeal, as though to take her hands, but stopping short. 'Aisling, ar tu inan. '
She clenched her jaw, considered refusing him, but in the end reluctantly turned her head. She rubbed her eyes roughly when she couldn't see him clearly, and locked gazes with him to prove that she could. She had the strength left to do that.
'None of this is your doing,' he said, sounding like another promise. 'You did the right thing. This – all of this – is my fault.' There was something about the way he said that, a tension in his shoulders, a pause as though he was waiting for something, but she didn't know what.
She pressed her lips together, tasting the salt in the corners from stray tears. 'I believe you. It just doesn't feel that way right now,' she said softly.
His eyes softened, and the tension drained out of him, like he'd released a breath he'd been holding. Yet something about the shape of his mouth made her think he was... disappointed. Before she could ask what was wrong, the moment passed and he bowed his head, shoulders heavy with regret. 'Ir abelas, Aisling, ir abelas.'
She believed him. How could she not, when he sounded like it was tearing him apart? 'You know what?' She asked, finally releasing the tight grip she had on her arms to gently reach out to him, as though to lift his chin but without touching him. She waited until he met her eyes before giving him a tremulous smile. 'Tel'abelas. For the way things have ended, maybe, but not for knowing you. I could never be sorry for that,' she choked out before her throat closed up and her sight melted into nothing more than bright shapes.
She could feel that this was the end. Her body felt heavier, her movements stiffer. Her body was starting to wake up, but she wasn't ready-
She couldn't stop the shuddering gasp as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, the wolf jawbone pressing against her fingers. She shook and pressed her face into his shoulder as she threw her arms around his neck and just hung on. He was murmuring in elvish, too fast and complete for her to understand, his breath ruffling her hair as his cheek rested against her head. Then, as her focus began to fragment, a last whisper. 'Go, vhenan. Wake up.'
I don't want to leave. 'Solas-'
She woke with a start.