She knows that she is dreaming.
How else could she be back here? Alone in the forest of her youth. Standing in the sun dappled shade of the ancient oaks, resplendent in their autumnal glory. Cloaked in vibrant reds and greens and browns they paint a vivid picture across an all too familiar landscape. The path between the oaks is littered, the chaotic underbrush seeming to hide every snag and twisted root. But she moves easily, the steps long forgotten coming back now with ease. There are the typical sounds of the forest, the shuffling and settling of creatures too timid or too busy to greet her as she passes.
It is peaceful, and she can almost hear her clan somewhere off in the trees. But they are not there. No. they have long since abandoned this forest, taking refuge in Wycome. She is alone. Or almost alone.
She can feel him watching her, the faintest prickling in her spine. Years of surviving, of fighting off dangerous hostiles even before the sky was torn has instilled in her an uncanny ability to sense someone's presence. Though this time it could be more than that.
She doesn't turn to look right away, feigning ignorance of his presence. She always knows when he watches her, but if she turns to acknowledge him then he fades away and the dream turns to dust. It is always the wolf, and there is such pain in his eyes before he leaves her.
The trees part, revealing a little known oasis. A small grove, with sparkling shimmering water lit by the sun. The first time she had seen it, it had almost felt as if it was holy. A sacrilegious offence to besmirch it with her presence. But it was soothing. And she needed soothing right now.
She reaches out, fingertips grazing the roughened bark of her favourite oak tree. She'll pretend that she's taken him here. That they're just resting together to watch the light play off the water. She'll pretend that he hasn't shattered her heart by insisting on this foolish plan, that he wasn't hell bent on keeping them apart because he fears what he will have to become.
It's hard to remind herself to stay calm, to remember that this is the fade after all. A world of dreams, and as a mage she has far greater power here than others. Her emotions could literally shape it, and if he sensed how much pain she was in or how desperately she needed to cry, then he might choose to leave in some misguided attempt to stop himself from caring.
She needed to play pretend for a little while, she needed to pretend that he was with her, that the problems she faced were not as monumental as they seemed.
Is it her dream or his? Has he crafted this place for her, the same way that he crafted haven, to give her some measure of solitude and peace? The dreams where he visits are so different to her normal ones that it's not an entirely crazy prospect.
Normally her dreams have people, so much noise, so much pressure to protect them from the things in the dark. If she dreams of places then it is of Skyhold, her newfound home, of the battlefield beneath the breach, of the twisting cavernous fade itself. More often than not however she dreams of Haven. Not the idyllic setting that he took her to. But rather the night when Corypheus attacked. The terrible feeling as their triumph turned to ashes. She can still hear the dragon bellowing in the air above her as it callously and contemptuously blew apart Havens defenders. The shrieks of the dying as they fell in the unexpected attack, the crumbling of stone. It is these sounds, coupled with the stinging heat as debris from the destroyed trebuchets grazes her face, that wake her in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. It is this panic that sends her stumbling to her balcony to make sure that they are not under attack.
On those nights she does not dare to sleep again, instead wanders the ramparts practically vibrating with a readiness to face an attack she's almost certain is coming. Even though she knows that Corypheus is dead, the nightmares and the certainty has not faded.
Sometimes she feels as if all she has left is violence, is the brutality she has endured and the destruction she has sown. For the longest time it seems as if she has been piecing the world together again, to build castles from the ruins on the shore. But the tide kept changing and washing away her efforts.
Is this what she had come to?
Is this what her life was meant to be? Was she to sacrifice everything she had to save a world that refused to save itself? Was it destiny to lose the only one who had ever made her feel alive because he was determined to see a long forgotten world reborn?
Tears scalded her eyes, her throat felt painfully tight.
She was alone.
Her clan was sweet, but she'd outgrown them. They couldn't understand, and why would they? Their only concerns were about surviving. About making it through the next day, the next week, the next month. But she hadn't had the luxury to be so narrow minded since the conclave was destroyed. There had never been enough time to think what she was doing, because she was the only one who could.
If she didn't protect people, then who would? If she didn't seal the rifts, then who could?
Her eyes slipped closed, a futile attempt to ward off the tears.
There is no other place but here that she can let the mask slip. Surrounded by the familiar scents of home, the comforting yet distant presence of her lover. It was the only place that no one could see her collapse. That there were no prying eyes from desperate companions needing her to be strong.
Tears slipped from under her lids, her body shuddered painfully.
"Damnit! I can't cry."
But she couldn't stop the tears. She missed him, she missed her Solas. All she wanted was to be held. For someone else to take the weight of the world for just a little while. He was the only one who had ever seen beneath her mask, the one who didn't need her to be her happy and confident self.
The twigs and leaves bit into her knees as she dropped to the ground. Surprisingly real sensations from the fade. Her hands dug into the dirt, fingers delving into the soft loam. Here in his dream world she was always whole. As if he couldn't bear to see what his actions had done to her. Tears dripped onto the backs of her hands as she shuddered.
"I'm the big bad inquisitor. I don't have time to cry."
She couldn't stop herself though, the shaking was so pronounced that she almost felt as if she were about to fly apart. She half expected the dream to shatter and for her to wake up alone in her room once more. To cry in almost absolute silence, fist wrapped in sheets and jammed into her mouth to stop the noise from alerting the sentries.
The fade flickered around her, reacting to the sudden release of emotion in a typical way. The sunlight dimmed, the water darkened. The more the world changed, the more desperately she tried to control it.
This was the only contact she had with him. The only chance to feel him near her again. She didn't want to do anything that would make that end early. And in seeing her suffering he would no doubt flee.
So when something warm wrapped around her, when a gentle but firm embrace lifted her up and pulled her against an all too familiar chest, she was surprised. Thin but firmly muscled, the body that held hers was far too familiar to be anyone other than him. Her head was gently cradled against his neck and chest, legs tucked over his as he held her tightly. There was a strange air of desperation around him, as if in touching her he was willingly placing his hands upon live flame.
But the warmth of him, the comforting scent. These things made her body relax before her mind had the chance to. She questions softly, forlornly, "Solas?"
His breath gusts out of him, a pained admission of identity, and his arms tighten around her and his chin rests against her head. When he speaks it is a soft thing, so full of sadness that she fears that it would literally change the fade again, "Let it go Lethallin, I am here."
Normally she would question, comment. But in this instance she can't. Her emotions crash against her insides, tear themselves out of her without permission. She collapses into the strength of his arms, letting him shoulder the weight of her as she cries. She cries the tears that she should have wept when her heart was broken. She sobbed for the lives that she'd failed to save, and even wept for the lives she had been required to take. She shatters in his arms, and he is kind enough to let her.
He doesn't do her the dishonour of lying to her. He didn't promise that it would all be okay in the end, that she would move on and forget. Because she wouldn't. Some wounds couldn't be stitched or healed, they just had to be survived. She would carry on, as she had always done. Because she was the only one who could.
As the tears slowed, her body lightened. As if in holding them in they had weighed her down and choked her soul. He held her tenderly, but desperately, and she knew he was planning to leave again.
"Please. Please don't go." She's never begged for anything in her life. But he's always brought out the strangeness in her.
Another sharp exhale, then, "It is almost time for you to wake up."
She twists his tunic in her fingers, desperately trying to hold onto him, "I need you Solas."
The sound he made was anguished, but still he spoke, "I cannot stay. I should not have interfered."
New pain strikes at her, and she knows that he is trying desperately to push her away. But it doesn't lessen the sting of his worlds. She knows better than to accuse, that will merely give him an opportunity and cause to walk away. Instead she squeezes her grip all the tighter, and simply asks, "Please. Just come home to me. Please."
The sound he makes then is horrible. Gutted and pained he finally manages to murmur "I can't. It's time to wake up."
Just as the last time when he uttered those words, she bolts upright in her bed. This time however his name drops from her lips in a desperate plea, "Solas!"
But he is gone.
He is always gone.
But he has helped, doing as his name pretended and acting as her solace. She can face this new day, driven by the hope of seeing him again. Of finding him before he takes steps that can never be undone. She can once again wear the mantle that feels like a collar, and stand at the forefront of an organisation the world was not ready to disband.
She knew that she was only dreaming when she saw him, but…it was a good dream.
Authors notes: Well I'm back, though i'm not sure how long for.
Please let me know what you think of this little ficlet, i really enjoy getting feedback. :D
If you liked it, please feel free to check out some of my other stories.
Anyway, Ta ta for now,
~Madamred