Sunlight filtered in through the tall stained glass windows of the room. He hadn't moved since waking hours before. Saga lay beside him, her fascinating green eyes closed to the world, her snow white hair spread over the pillow beneath her. Each breath she took moved her chest slightly, barely enough to notice, but Solas had been studying her. She was a mystery. Passionate, beautiful, dangerous. She was like fire, wild and unpredictable. But it was what he loved most about her.

Saga Lavellan was an enigma. She was wondrous. But she was so much more. She was a Dalish elf unlike any Solas had seen in his long existence. She was strong, undeniably strong. Her life hadn't been easy, but her hardships had made her the person she was. The person he loved. The person who would save Thedas.

Hamin in atisha, ma vhenan.

The words fell from his lips in a whisper, little else disturbing the quiet of the room. He wished that he could bring her the sort of peace that sleep could. A peace that would heal all wounds. Old, new and future. But he couldn't. He was the wrong person to bring that sense of calm to her life. He would only complicate matters.

He loved her. Fen'harel, the dread wolf, had found someone who understood him. He had found a woman who would love him despite his faults. One who would stand beside him through the storm that was sure to come.

He wouldn't ask that of her. Thedas was counting on her to defend them. He was a distraction she couldn't afford. Not now. Not ever.

Brushing the hair from her forehead, Solas gazed down upon her pale face. The vasillin etched into her skin bothered him. With a wry grin, he knew there was one last thing he could give her.

He only hoped she didn't hate him for it.