A/N: I spent a long time thinking about what was possibly going through Solas' head while he aided the Inquisition, especially if he grew to love Lavellan, and this is where these stories came from. I'm updating this series out of order, but by the end it should be a novelization of sorts. I hope you enjoy, please R&R! All feedback is appreciated.
The force of the explosion reached him even from the distance he stood at, carving a hole in the sky that crackled with flashes of power. Green magic surged forth in a wide arc, completely obliterating the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He watched the building crumble as the tear in the sky grew ever wider.
Closing his eyes, he gave the handle of his staff a single, quick squeeze. Necessary casualties. Collateral damage along the curving path he walked. What did a few more lives matter in the grand scheme of things? They were no more significant to him than the birds in the trees.
What mattered was the orb. That was the only thing that held any importance; the reason for the destruction. A thin curl of smoke was rising from the rubble of the Temple, drifting slowly towards the jade gap in the clouds. Before others arrived, he needed to retrieve it. Before there was anyone around with the sense to question him.
Slipping out of the cover of the trees, he shouldered his staff and began weaving his way out of the village, slipping unnoticed around passerby. Soon, he would succeed. Though he had not been powerful enough to open the orb himself, the magister certainly was. The blackness and the greed had darkened the creature's face, peeling his skin tightly over unnaturally elongated limbs. A permanent sneer adorned his face.
He shook lightly falling snow from his shoulders as he continued moving. A fool, that corrupted monster. Desiring the power of a god. What could one such as him possibly hope to understand about godhood? They understood so little. Every one of them was naïve, blank. Disconnected from the Fade, they wandered the world like Tranquil, accepting the hands dealt them without protest. Even the magister fell into this category; no real god need prove himself.
Reaching the edge of the buildings, he noticed a figure approaching him through the swinging leaves and the snow. He waited, letting his eyes drift over the remains of the Temple. Little remained of the structure, save for a few outlying stones and the crackling of the tear in the sky.
The lithe body of another elf came at last into focus, taking a knee at his feet. "Hahren Solas. I bring news." He waited expectantly, gaze turned to the snow. Solas shook his head, waving him off the path and into the forest.
"Stand, please. That is not necessary. What news do you bring?" He gestured vaguely to the ruins to his left. "I am already aware of events resulting from unlocking the orb." The ghost of a smile crossed his lips.
But worry creased lines in his agent's face as he rose. "The… magister. He survived."
Solas' hand stopped, frozen in midair. Impossible. That explosion was uncontained, raw magic. No one could have possibly survived that much power in direct contact. For the first time since awakening, confusion clouded his thoughts, but he did not allow it to show. He dropped his hand, folding his arms over his chest, and regarded the agent. "…Survived." The word tasted like ice.
"Yes, hahren. Both Rina and I saw him exit the ruins." An indentation in the pristine snow appeared as the agent toed a circle with his boot. "He took the orb. It is no longer at the Temple."
Solas set his lips into a thin line at the words, turning them over and regarding them from every possible angle. The magister had unlocked the orb. Survived. And it was still currently in his possession. His hand clenched into a fist, unseen beneath the crook of his elbow. He had been so close… and success had been snatched from him, stolen by one unworthy of the power the orb commanded. One corrupted by the blight and his own greed. He could not understand the orb's true purpose; he would use it for his own selfish ends, to gain what he believed he rightly deserved.
Fate truly was a cruel mistress. Solas sighed deeply, uncrossing his arms and worrying a thumb the length of the wolf jawbone around his neck. "There are many considerations to be made. Has anyone else arrived at the Temple?"
A vigorous head shake from the agent. "Not yet."
"Inform me when they arrive, because they will not remain idle long. Bring any information you deem useful with you at that time." He waved the young elf away. "I will remain here. Thank you."
With a brief inclination of his head, the agent vanished, tossing small puffs of snow in his wake as he fled the way he had come. Solas lingered in the trees, reeling slightly from how quickly his plan had become unhinged. How had the magister survived? The implications of his ability to still draw breath were grave and disconcerting.
If he had survived, he possessed power far greater than anticipated. And that made him incomprehensibly dangerous. With the orb in his control, with the power of the Anchor, he would be nigh on unstoppable. Solas once again let his eyes flick up to the hole above the Temple. As he regarded it, it widened, a line of green lightning forking down from the sky to connect with the center of the ruin.
There was also the matter of that creation. Through his connection, he could feel the effects the tear had on the realm it led to. The Fade had grown unstable. The sprits were panicking, and the tear seemed in no hurry to stop spreading. It already bled over a large portion of the visible sky, swallowing the clouds and the cerulean in a swathe of violent jade and grey.
If this was allowed to continue, there wouldn't be a world left to save. And everything he had worked toward, everything he had sacrificed to rescue the People… it would all be in vain. They would all perish at the hands of a careless magister because he had not been strong enough to unlock his own orb.
Something had to be done. And he would have to be the one to do it. Never would he have imagined he would need to first save this world before allowing it to fall. However, in his current state, he was no match for the magister's newly revealed prowess. The sharp weight of inferiority settled in his chest. Alone, he would not be enough.
The agent returned then, eyes wide beneath his hood. Solas snapped himself from his thoughts at the sound of footsteps. "You return."
His eyes shifted between Solas and the tear, flicking nervously as though beyond his control. "Another survivor, hahren. The humans found her."
"And this concerns us why, precisely?" She was likely simply lucky, managing to avoid the worst of the blast. But the agent's face reflected his earlier worry. Solas waited.
Wringing his hands nervously, the agent at last maintained his gaze. "She… fell out of the Fade." He paused, as though allowing that to percolate through the air. "And she has the Anchor on her hand."
Solas inhaled sharply, his only indication of potential distress at the statement. Could anything follow the path he desired it to? There appeared to be no end to the crises unfolding around him. He needed a new plan; this woman added another layer of depth and gravity to the already dark situation. A moment of silence reigned before he organized his thoughts. "Where did they take her?"
"Another small village further down the mountain. She was unconscious."
Likely due to the Anchor; unsurprising. "Offer to help. Insert yourself into their presence. Listen. Observe. I will join you shortly. She will require my aid." Aid in surviving her encounter; aid in freeing her from the grasping tendrils of pain the Anchor would inflict as it attempted to bond with the wrong soul. If the opportunity arose, he could take it from her. One problem solved.
The agent inclined his head briefly before turning on a heel. "She is an elf as well, hahren."
Solas nodded, once. "Is she…?" He fluidly rotated his staff off his back, the handle smooth between his fingers. Pressing the end of it into the snow, he nodded down the path. Human faces twisted in disgust drifted through his mind, refusing to look past the pair of pointed ears. "Then she will need more help than I believed."
Worry clouded his agent's eyes before he shook his head and vanished down the path ahead of him. Solas followed at a slower pace, settling his face into a neutral expression and wrapping his coat closer over his shoulders. Another survivor. The appearance of the Anchor on her, not the magister, soothed the edges of his nerves. Her, at least, he could reach. And if he could not reclaim the Anchor from her… she would be easier to influence.
Rooftops soon came into view, tucked behind a large stone wall that wrapped close to the buildings, protecting from the mountain world. Smoke from several small campfires drifted lazily into the sky, passing through the lightly falling snow in an elaborate waltz. He could hear the faint clink of metal on metal as he drew closer, and the shout of a man giving orders. Through the efficiency, however, hung a veil of sorrow, rage, and loss. The two men at the gates narrowed their eyes as he approached, gazes hesitating on the staff in his hand.
"You, elf. What do you want?" The man spoke as though he had a mouthful of rocks. Solas paused, safely out of range of the sword strapped to his hip.
"I wish to offer my services. It seems you are in need of healers." A sharp cry of pain slithered over the wall to reach them, as though emphasizing his point. He glanced to the sky. "I may also be able to offer knowledge, if any so desire it."
A heavy silence settled as the two man exchanged brief looks. Solas waited, though his patience began to fray. If they refused his help, they were not only blind, but ignorant, as well. More so. Magic was a force of nature, a raw and true part of the world. To fear it was to never understand it.
"Fine." The second guard extended a hand. "But you can't carry that around with you." His fingers wiggled rapidly, eyes on the staff.
With a silent sigh, Solas relinquished his staff to their care. Power remained in his veins, however, and they could not take that. They seemed to at last remember this as he passed between them. Fear danced in the eyes of the first one to speak.
Another soldier greeted him inside the gate, taking his staff from the guard before the door shuddered the air with its forceful seal. Solas regarded this new person. Uninteresting. His attention drifted elsewhere, attempting to locate where they had placed the survivor.
"Who leads you?" He finally broke the silence, returning his gaze to the silent man. "I would speak with them." A vaguely petrified pair of brown eyes darted up to meet his.
"The… Seeker, I suppose. Pentaghast." He lifted a finger and pointed up the hill, where the rooftop of the Chantry was visible. "I'll take you to her."
Solas nodded, inclining his head for the man to lead the way. They passed huddled groups of people, all unarmed, weeping softly into each other. Cries of fear and whispered panic followed them. He spotted his agent tucked in among another group, speaking in low tones. He met Solas' gaze as he passed, offering no recognition beyond a single blink. Solas returned it and continued walking.
Raised voices sifted under the closed doors of the Chantry, muffled by the wood. The soldier paused.
"She won't wake up! We don't have a plan, Varric, and you're not helping the situation."
"She's dying, Seeker! Have you not seen how pale she is? That mark is killing her. She needs a healer, not an interrogation!"
The words slipped into a tense silence. Still, the soldier hesitated. Solas eyed him for a moment before speaking. "I happen to be a healer. It is possible I can offer assistance. If you would…" He gestured to the door.
With a nod, the soldier rapped heavily against the sealed door, the sound echoing from the metal in his glove. "Seeker Cassandra? There is an elf here who wants to talk to you."
A soft noise of disgust reached his ears. "Very well. You may come in."
An impressive creak was freed from the door as the soldier pushed it inward, revealing the dimly lit Chantry swathed in shadows and flickering orange light. A tall woman and a dwarf stood to the right side of the room, near an open door, staring one another down. Solas entered slowly, making no sound as he crossed the room to where they stood. The woman turned from the dwarf, who crossed him arms and shook his head. She gave Solas her full attention, almond-shaped eyes narrowing as she regarded him.
"What was so important?" Her Nevarran accent laced the words as her eyes flicked over his face, searching. Solas simply blinked at her. She had been touched by a spirit, one of Faith. The remnants of the contact clung to her like small stars. He recovered from his observation enough to speak as her eyes narrowed further. Distrust and caution rolled off her in waves.
"I witnessed the explosion. I felt the tear in the Fade. I have journeyed far in the realm, and am led to believe I know what caused it, but it will require study if you wish to understand it. I also consider myself adept in healing magic." The dwarf was also regarding him now, lips pressed in a thin line. One of his feet began tapping out a rhythm against the stone floor. "I simply wish to offer my services, whatever they may be."
In truth, this conversation had gone on too long already. Solas could feel the Anchor, below them, crackling with raw power on the hand of a woman who did not understand it. She was dying; the dwarf had been correct. The Anchor, unstable and bound to the wrong soul, would kill her if he did not arrive in time, and with the loss of the Anchor, everything would fall.
The dwarf took a step forward, tugging on the Seeker's sleeve to bring her attention back to him. "He's who we need." He hissed the sentence between his teeth. "We're not going to know if you let her die."
She straightened, freeing her arm, and shifted all of her weight to her left foot. War raged over her face, clearly weighing the dwarf's words. Eventually, she sighed. "There was… a survivor. She was the only one who survived the destruction. If you wish to help…" She trailed off, gauging his reaction.
Solas nodded. "I will do whatever I can." If she would only take him to her…
With slight reluctance, she turned to the door near them. It opened to a staircase, which led down beneath the earth. "Follow me." She began the descent slowly, her entire body tense with each echoing step. Solas heard the dwarf begin to follow as well, closing the door behind them.
They had locked her away. Of course they had. Bearing the Anchor, they likely believed she was responsible for the breach in the clouds. Being an elf…
He reached the dungeons before he could finish the thought, and the spark of power snapped the world into sharper clarity. She was in a cell on the far end of the room, which the Seeker led him to cautiously, past six guards. The dwarf followed, and eventually the three of them stood before her.
Curled into a ball on the small bed in the cell, she looked small and weak in the faint torchlight. Dark hair emphasized the lack of color in her skin, as did the vallaslin covering her forehead. A Dalish elf; People who only remembered fragments of Elvhenan.
She clung to the world's oldest magic now, her marked hand pressed to her chest. Bolts of jade lightning flickered into the air around her, contorting her face with pain. But her eyes remained closed, and she breathed steadily, if each one was growing shallower as the seconds ticked by.
The Seeker nodded at one of the guards, who silently unlocked the cell. She followed him inside and hovered in the corner, watching his every move. He ignored her easily enough; she become nothing more than a reminder of where he was as he turned his attention to the mark, and the woman attached to it.
Her face contorted again as the Anchor crackled, lines of green light like veins snaking their way over her wrist. Slowly, he pulled her hand away from her chest to hold it in his own, analyzing the mar on her skin. It had bonded to her, body and soul, and she was not strong enough to handle the pain. Silently, he cursed. It was connected to her, permanent. There was no removing it, not in his current weakened state.
Instead, he pressed her hand between his own, letting the green light of Spirit magic slowly curl around the limb. He poured all his power into stopping it, slowing it, preventing the lines of light from reaching any more of her. Like it or not, she had become the key. He could not allow her to die; it would create more problems than it would solve.
No one in the room spoke as he continued healing her, slowing the spread of the pain. When he exhausted his energy, he paused, regarding her condition from where he sat. Her breathing had slowed, returned to a more normal rhythm, and her skin had regained some color.
He dropped her hand, and it hung limply over the edge of the bed, inches from the floor. As he stood, the Anchor sparked again, and this time her eyes opened. The Seeker gasped, but Solas held out a hand. The woman's eyes found his, bright blue sapphires lined with gold. She didn't appear to look at him so much as she looked through him, and her stare was crushing.
She spoke; softly, shakily, broken Elven slid past her lips into the stillness.
"Andaran atish'an setheran. A'melana dirthaveran. Revas vir anaris."
Her eyes dropped closed again, the echoing silence heavy and deafening. The Anchor fell silent, glowing softly in the dim room. She did not move again.
Solas stood, frozen, the words ringing in his head. They awoke memories long forgotten, buried. One of his hands began to shake; he forced it to still. The dwarf spoke, words lined with mirth.
"Well, that was… something. At least she's alive." He sounded genuinely pleased by her survival, but the words meant nothing to him. Nor did they mean anything to the Seeker standing in the corner, wide eyes still fixed on the now sleeping woman.
To Solas, they shuddered the walls. I come in peace to the unwaking realm. I enter time for the promise. There is freedom along the path of years. His gaze ran over her, this elf who had just delivered Fen'Harel's greeting to the Wolf himself. Whatever she remembered, whatever she knew, she had just become a mystery.
He would have to stay.