So... we only have the Inquisitors version of what happened at Haven. What if she was not telling the truth? As always, I don't own this shit. If I did, well... Lavellan and Solas wouldn't have broken my heart.
"It worked" comes the thought. Corypheus stares down at her, burning with hate.
"When I return, you will pay for this. You will submit, my bride. You will be my Andraste." he growls. She tries to run, but it is a futile effort.
The rumble has grown louder - impossibly loud. The last thing she feels is the ground giving way under her.
o0o
"This power is mine" Corypheus snarls at her.
He holds her by one hand, feet dangling off the ground. Her shoulder burns, and ribs that Lavellan is quite sure are broken are making it hard for her to breathe. Something that looks like a smile spreads over his otherworldly face. He leans closer, and all she can think is "Let them get away, please let them get away." His breath smells of sulfur, and he will not stop talking of his apotheosis.
"It is said that the Maker had a bride. Sweet, sweet Andraste. If the Maker has a bride, I certainly deserve one just as" he puts what might have been a nose close to her neck, and inhales. A disgusted shudder wracks her tortured frame. "Lovely."
She spits in his face. It is all she can do, there is no sign of the signal yet. This seems to amuse the ancient Magister.
"I think I'll use you as a footstool." She hears something that might be a laugh, though to her ears it sounds like death. "The Anchor is permanent, you have spoiled it with your stumbling." Then, behind him, she sees it - the flaming arrow that signals escape. Drawing on the last of her fading strength she swings, her leg coming up and her foot making sharp contact with his face.
"Whore!" He growls, releasing her to fall to the ground. It is all she can do to reach out as she falls, catching the lever that will unlock the trebuchet. With a loud twang it releases, and she hits a beam, cracking another of her ribs and pushing the breath from her. She faintly hears a rumble.
"It worked" comes the thought. Corypheus stares down at her, burning with hate.
"When I return, you will pay for this. You will submit, my bride. You will be my Andraste.." he growls. She tries to run, but it is a futile effort.
The rumble has grown louder - impossibly loud. The last thing she feels is the ground giving way under her.
o0o
"This power is mine" Corypheus snarls at her.
He holds her by one hand, feet dangling off the ground. Her shoulder burns, and ribs that Lavellan is quite sure are broken are making it hard for her to breathe. Something that looks like a smile spreads over his otherworldly face. He leans closer, and all she can think is "Let them get away, please let them get away." His breath smells of sulfur, and he will not stop talking of his apotheosis.
o0o
He would've felt it miles away, but this close it is like a maelstrom, twisting and pulling at the fade. Spirits were gathering, and he could see demons too, whispering into the vortex that was Numin'Telanadas Lavellan's nightmare. Trying to convince her it was real, to goad her into submitting.
"Min..." Solas breathed, then, with a supreme effort of will, he jerked himself from the fade.
Blinking himself awake the elf jumped from his bed, ignoring the cold that pricked at his skin. He muttered furiously as he moved, reaching out to grab his staff, the rough wood a comfort against his skin.
He'd had a sneaking suspicion that small Dalish elf had been having nightmares - the way she'd been moving, as though an anchor was dragging behind her, the shadowed eyes, the not infrequent yawns that would suddenly interrupt a conversation. Though the suspicion was there he'd never been able to find her in the fade. But this, this was different. This was a nightmare given form, given shape by a desperate mind. This was dangerous, especially to a mage as innately talented as Min.
His desperate steps echoed through the silent main hall, decorated this week with statues and banners from the Free Marches, all in honor of Tria Hawkes visit. Varric, the only one still up at this hour, quirked an eyebrow at the apostate. Solas gave a brusque shake of the head, ignoring the dwarfs low chuckle when he stepped into the hallway leading to the Inquisitors rooms.
Even as he rushed he was casting spells, setting stronger wards and forcing back those demons he could feel lurking. Blood magic was one thing, but he had definite views on demons possessing mages. Especially this mage who, much to his chagrin, he was developing very strong feelings for. At last he lunged up the final steps, and what he saw there stopped him cold.
Min's slight form was floating, maybe six inches above the mussed covers of an ostentatious Orlesian bed that both Josephine and Leliana had insisted upon shoehorning into the otherwise simple room. The breath fled from his lungs, pulled by shock at seeing this ancient spell in action once more. He'd seen nothing like this since Arlathan. She was rigid, curled in on herself, pale waves of hair covering her face. Every so often her foot would twitch, and then she would loose a low, nearly silent moan. It was a frightening sight, even to him.
"Damn it all. Would that you had said something Vhenan..." Solas muttered, the term of endearment not bothering him nearly as much as it probably should.
Cautious steps took him to the bed. He knew he would have to be careful. Accessing the nightmare from the fade as per normal was impossible, it was simply too strong. So an attempt had to be made to access it through her own magic. Almost hesitantly he climbed onto the gilded monstrosity of a bed, sliding his arms around her levitating form. A gentle tug brought her into his grip, and it was an easy thing to hold her there while muttering a spell. Slowly the colors around him blurred and slid together, till he was standing in her dream.
The first thing he noticed were the rivers of flame, snaking down the sides of the familiar mountains. The next was the smell, and that placed it for him.
"Haven..."
Dreading what he would see the elf slowly looked to his left.
There she was, being thrown to the ground, catching the lever and falling against a beam. The ancient Magister stands over her, oblivious to the oncoming storm of snow and ice bearing down. He said something Solas could not hear before being whisked away by the dragon. She was trying to run, and then - nothing.
Solas blinked as the dream began again. Of course. Of course this is what she would dream of. No matter how brave she was, no one could be prepared for this type of thing. He inched closer. Abruptly he could hear sounds, crashing down on him in a near incomprehensible wave.
"This power is mine."
Deep in his throat Solas growled. No. That power was his, and now it was hers. Not his, never his. Ever so slowly, burning to do more but knowing that a wrong move could be fatal, he drew closer.
"It is said that the Maker had a bride. Sweet, sweet Andraste. If the Maker has a bride, I certainly deserve one just as-" would be god seemed to lean in and sniff, "Lovely."
That broke the fragile remnants of Solas' much valued self control. The elf wrenched control of the nightmare away from Min, much less carefully and gently than he should have. It was a risk, but one that couldn't be avoided at this point. Through the haze of anger, he feels so proud when she spits at the erstwhile Magister.
"I think I'll use you as a footstool."
The dream seemed to freeze, though Lavellan still struggled weakly. Solas put his hand out, releasing a wave of magic that dispelled the Magister, causing Min to drop heavily onto the frozen ground. Falling to his knees beside her low mutters became audible, though not comprehensible. He mirrored the actions he'd taken in the real world, drawing her gently to his arms. Dim eyes looked up at him, seeming to expect nothing but more pain. It was clear she recognized him, but Min's entire frame was bowed with defeat.
"I'm going to wake you up now Vhenan. Do not fight it."
"Fight it?" Came the mumble, "I can't fight it. I can't tell what's real anymore."
Solas closed his eyes with the pain that statement brought to him. He never should've taken her into the fade - let alone kissed her there - so soon after reaching Skyhold, and then he had done the worst thing he could by withdrawing from her. He should've been more attentive, paid closer attention to her in the aftermath of the attack on Haven. Instead he had tried to distance himself, in the process nearly allowing this brave, beautiful, fragile creature to be broken. He was despicable. When he finally opened his eyes again it was to the sight of the Inquisitor, limp in his arms, a few scant tears dripping onto her high cheekbones.
"I can't stop thinking about it." Her voice was soft, melting the ice in his heart, stopping his mental flagellation cold.
"You must, Vhenan. You can not let fear of this consume you."
"I'm sick of being associated with Andraste. First I'm her Herald, as though that wasn't a ludicrous claim, and now some petty, would be god haunts my dreams, telling me that I'm going to be Andraste to his Maker. His bride."
The last words were a choked sob, and a sense of fierce possessiveness lurched up in his gut. The thought came from nowhere, so right yet so terrifying. "No. She is MINE!"
Solas buried his face in her pale hair, inhaling deeply the scent of cedar and elfroot. It was a tonic to him, doing much to soothe the anger he felt at the thought of this woman - who burned so brightly in this world of dim, stumbling tranquil - subject to the whim of the ancient, corrupted being.
"That will not happen Vhenan."
She looked up at him, eyes desperate.
"You don't know that Solas."
Promises are dangerous. This is a fact that Solas has known for eons. But her words were bleak, and her eyes so shadowed. His heart was racing in a way it never had, like he'd never thought it could. Possessiveness crashed through him, tightening the muscles in his lean arms, making him pull her even closer. No. He had never permitted himself nor his people to be subject to the desires of petty beings who played at godhood. And he would not start now. So he broke one of his own rules, and made Min a promise.
"He will never have you Vhenan. I will not allow it. You will face him, and you will win. Corypheus will never have you for a bride. I... will protect you. I will keep you safe from everything I can, for as long as it is in my power to do so."
He felt overwhelming guilt when he released the small trickle of magic, not unexpected but still surprising. That he could still feel guilt, after all this time. He had bonded her to himself, a dangerous move in this game he played. He could not allow anything to happen to her now, or it would be the end of him as well, the will to live would desert him. Dimly, in one small corner of his vast mind, he could feel the relief and comfort that the words he had spoken had brought to her. A gift, from the magic of the bonding, that tiny awareness of her feelings, thoughts, even physical problems. One, he was guiltily pleased to know, that would not be reciprocated until she spoke certain words to him, completing her half of the spell. He could wait for that, however hard it would be when she found out who he really was.
Min sniffed quietly, the slow leak of tension from her body only making her exhaustion more obvious. He could feel that as well, a sense of profound lethargy, spiked through with fear. She was terrified to go back to sleep. Mentally Solas castigated himself over the welcome thought that she was his now, guilt at what he'd done subsumed beneath relief that he could take proper care of her at last, even if it would have to be done so, so carefully. She could never suspect. He would tell her the truth of himself when it was time, then allow her space to work it out. If she still loved him after that - then she could fulfill her part in the spell if she desired. If she hated him... well, the bond, even half finished, was irrevocable. He was tied to her for eternity now. The elf known as Solas had never been so glad of anything in his life.
Gently lowering his lips to her forehead, he permitted himself the first of many small things he would do to help her. The words left him, along with a small flow of magic, all the more sweet because he knew she needed it so badly.
"Sleep..."
The small form relaxed immediately in his arms. With infinite tenderness Solas stretched her out on the bed, then lowered himself to her side. He kept her in his arms, guarding her from every threat he could. The worry was still there, careening around his thoughts. So was the guilt, and a profound terror that she would never return once he told her the truth. Over all of that, however, lay an enveloping blanket of contentment and happiness, the most profound the elf had found in his long life.
"Ar lath ma, Vhenan. Ar lath ma."