Another drabbles-type fanfic. These will come in no particular order, but all are elaborations on their romance.

This first part is immediate post-final battle.

Maybe Lavellan is a much stronger person than I, but she still keeps insisting "I'm just like everybody else." I don't think having your soulmate dump you in quite a…final way would have her be so cavalier about it. Especially in situation with emotions running so high. She just kinda…looks up at him being gone and is all "meh" and walks away.

As such, hear is my take. I hope you all like it! I named her Arya.

Abelas, Part I

"No matter what comes, know what we had was real." Their eyes met, fiery emerald green to steely blue. Even masked by the exhilaration of victory, warning bells pealed in her head, the way he said such a phrase. So final and…apologetic. She started towards him instantly, dread filling her heart as her brows furrowed.

"Inquisitor!" a cry of relief distracted her, halting her steps as Cassandra came running into view, a great dent in her charred shield. Arya turned back to Solas, unwillingly to leave the gap between them so wide. Her hunter's instincts told her something was off. But she remembered his words, "I promise…All will be explained." Her eyes were ripped from him as Cassandra turned her roughly, patting her down and assessing her for injury.

The Seeker's worried frown turned to a giant grin. She grabbed the mage's still glowing green hand and pulled her toward the edge of the steps, seemingly oblivious to Arya's struggles to free herself. When their party came into view, Cassandra raised their clasped hands above their heads in triumph. Her party screamed in delight and Arya was unable to disentangle herself before she was led down the stairs to her cheering comrades.

She was swept up in the emotion of the group, consumed in their laughing, hugging, receiving numerous slaps on her back.

Remembering, she looked up to find Solas, unable to find his eyes in the crowd. He had not followed and was standing at the edge of the stairs, clutching his side, which bled slightly. Why was he still up there, not joining in their celebration? She caught his eyes, searching, wordlessly asking for explanation. She recognized hard determination, but even as she held his gaze, his brows furrowed in sadness, his shoulders falling forward as he leaned on his staff for support. True alarm began to rise from her heart.

As she began to move towards him, Iron Bull roughly thumped her on the back in congratulations and she staggered forward under the weight of his huge hand. Laughing, distracted by having the wind completely knocked out of her and having to regain her balance, she stood and her eyes sought the top of the stone steps again.

They were empty.

Absolute dread flooded her as her stomach plummeted through the stone steps of the floating rock. The raucous laughter and cheers of her friends around her died, falling oddly silent as she sprinted up the stairs in a panic. Maybe he has just moved out of sight…surely she would seem him when she reached the top.

When she crested the stone stairs, hers eyes frantically searched the destroyed courtyard for his familiar form. There was nothing to find.

No….it couldn't be…

"NO! Ma'vhenan!" her mournful shriek was like the loud blast of a bugle that ripped through the air, silencing all other sounds. She sprinted forward, unaware at the jabs of pain the shards on the ground elicited as they ripped open the soft flesh of her bare feet as she ran forward in her terror. She reached the place where the elven orb sat shattered on the bloody stones and whirled on the spot, searching, casting her magic out in desperate search for his aura, only to find….nothing.

He was gone.

"MA AR'LATH" She screamed into the cold air, now deathly silent, the cries of victory dead on the wind.

He had quit the field without even saying goodbye.

The world crashed down around her and she fell to her knees, feeling suffocated, a panic rising in her throat. He was gone. As she looked down, the orb came into focus. She gingerly picked up the largest of the pieces, the one that Solas picked up with despairing fingers. It was still slightly pulsing with magic from the Fade. Even as she held it, it beat out its last life force, then lay still and dark. The warmth faded and it lay, cold and still in her palm.

"Solas?" the voice was meek, almost begging.

But it was for naught. Somehow, she knew he wouldn't be coming back. His words to her were so final…

"No matter what comes, know what we had was real."

She lifted her head and screamed her agony and frustration at the sky before she viciously hurled the offending piece of trinket into a boulder, where it lodged into the stone with a solid thunk and a flash of sparks, charring the boulder with magical fire. He LIED to her, he had promised to explain…but…he lied…how….why did he…

She was lost to the world as she wailed her grief into her hands.

From a nearby vantage point, shielded and invisible, he watched her sorrow and rage. His tears were silent, and he made no move to wipe them from his face. He longed with all his heart to go to her, to comfort her, but he just stood, watching, letting her grief wash over him in torturous waves. Her companions stood at the foot of the stairs, at a complete loss for words, watching their hero and savior, broken and defeated in light of their greatest victory.

It was obviously not a victory for her. Cole's voice, heartbreaking and soft, broke the shocked silence.

"Gone…gone…he's really gone. Gasping, gagging on tears, guilt, he's gone. Promised to tell, promised to explain. Liar. Gone. Can't stop…must be strong…must suffer in silence…Solas…can't…I can't…I can't." His voice drifted off, a somehow novel sadness layered in his words as he choked out the devastation emanating from their leader.

Solas felt his heart would break. His knuckles were white as he clutched his staff, driving the butt of it into the earth. He deserved this, to sit and watch her. And he couldn't leave until he knew she was safe.

He watched as the crass elf moved towards her, surprised when Dorian roughly pulled her back by the collar of her shirt. He couldn't hear the cowering words the mage said to the blond elf, but it was effective. She hung her head and wrung her hands together, giving a small and uncharacteristically meek nod. Instead, Dorian started to hesitantly move toward her, Varric following closely behind him.

When they reached her, Dorian dropped to one knee. Tentatively, he reached out and placed a comforting hand on her back. She turned to him instantly and threw her arms around her neck, weeping openly into the mage's armored robes. He pulled the elven woman into his arms, so tiny in the Tevinter's hands and murmured something softly to her, his lips pressed closely against the red curls. She tried to speak, choking and attempting to splutter out words, frustration adding to her grief.

The mage whispered into the red curls, to which she paused, and then nodded in response, clutching his robes, her fist in a ball of the armored fabric.

The Tevinter shifted her in his arms to free a glowing purple hand, which shone sweetly as he placed it gently on her forehead. The wails stopped abruptly as her hands went slack in his grip.

Only Varric's calm soothed Solas's sudden panic – Varric would have never tolerated any harm coming to his friend. Dorian produced a handkerchief and gently blotted her face of the mess, wiping her face with the utmost care so that she would have no trouble breathing. There was a murmured conversation between the Tevinter and the dwarf that ended with a slight solemn nod from the mage. He stood with her in his hands, her weight bearing no burden whatsoever to the large human. He arranged the sleeping elf carefully, holding her against his chest protectively.

The gentleness and care the Tevinter used to care for his mate surprised Solas – his dismissal of the flamboyant man was premature. He had wondered why she had spent so much time with the seemingly frivolous human. Varric, he already knew, loved her without question.

As Dorian and Varric reached the group, no one spoke, still in shock. Even Morrigan had the decency to remain quiet and abashed, if only due to her own confusion at Arya's reaction.

"What….what do we do now?" it was Cassandra's timid voice, unusually layered with concern and fear.

"We won. We enjoy it." Varric said simply.

"But the Inqusitior…"

"Deserves some privacy to play this out as she chooses. We can give her that much."

"The first thing that people will want to know is what happened to her." Iron Bull said cautiously.

"Then tell them she was injured and we took her directly to her room for care. They can fill in the details themselves, as they always have." The dwarf spoke with uncharacteristic authority, devoid of his sarcasm and good natured humor. It booked no argument.

Dorian was unable to say anything, and stood cradling her in his arms, daring anyone to take her from him.

Varric then turned and spoke directly to Iron Bull.

"I need you to go tell the Inquisition of our victory. They can't see anything from the top of this blasted damn rock. Can you do that?" Iron Bull nodded.

"Of course."

Varric then turned sharply to the rest of them. "Come on guys, we won! Act like it!" They just stared at him.

"Please. For me. For her." They all turned to gaze at Dorian, still cradling her in his arms.

They all left save for Cassandra, Morrigan, and Cole. The excitement of their victory returned as they chatted and cheered and ran off to tell the Inquisition the good news.

"Find Leliana and bring her to me." He said this to Cassandra. The woman nodded gravely, turning and trotting off purposefully.

Dorian and Varric stayed, presumably to allow the Inquisition to be distracted with their victory so they wouldn't worry about their Inquisitor just yet. They bought her some time to pull herself together. He was grateful.

She had to pull herself together. She had her duty to the Inquisition – a power he would need in the days to come. So that he could return to her. If it was to be so.

He stayed there, watching the mage and rogue chat quietly with one another, and noted that Varric's hand had crept into Arya's limp one, and was holding it gently.

He felt eyes on him and turned, noticing that Cole looked directly at the spot in which he stood watching them, eyes burning with the fire he had only seen once before – when he had confronted the templar that had indirectly murdered the real Cole. He stared back, but did not move or offer any explanation.

Varric's and Dorian's voices turned sour and they knew they were speaking of him. Satisfied that she was safe, he gave Cole one last look, and vanished.