Looking back, it had been slow at the start. The first time he had spoken after softly chuckling at her question was the first step to the edge of the cliff. The willingness to answer her questions, even when she mocked him for not being Dalish was the second. Learning to Fade-Step, his patience and encouragement carrying her forward just as surely as the twisting of magic and the Fade around her. Each little moment slowly moved her closer and closer, until the shattered future in Redcliffe. Seeing Solas so broken, so sick, yet willing to lay his life on the line for her to escape with Dorian and possibly prevent the madness from coming to be…
That's when the slow steps became a dance, slow circles around each other, spinning towards the seemingly inevitable. A true dance shared in the wake of closing the Breach brought them closer, then the discovery of Corypheus's true identity and the fall of Haven looked like it would tear them away from each other for good. His call pulled her through the storm, the sheer determination to see him again moving frozen feet forward when all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep.
Planning by veilfirelight, she slid her hand into his, and he didn't pull away. Instead, he threaded his fingers through hers as he described the path they would need to take to safety. The beauty of the fortress he laid at her feet took her breath away, even in the shambles it was. More steps in the dance as the keep was cleared, and slowly frescoes went up on the walls of the rotunda. A conversation started in candlelight ended in a dream, and when their lips touched and they breathed each other in, Fen knew that's when she'd truly danced too close to the cliff edge and fallen.
The fall left her stunned, shaken. If she was unsure of being able to go back to Lavellan before, she knew she never could now. They had barely accepted her, and who knew what Deshanna would think of a non-Dalish lover, Dreamer or no? He seemed the only anchor to herself as she drifted between the human world and her own, until the Plains. Humans screaming for an elf to save them on soil that cried out with the blood of her people, spilled long ago. Wisdom turned to Pride by lying mages after weeks of torment, and her Solas sought solace in solitude after Wisdom was freed.
He returned to her, worn and weary, while she burned with the fire lit within her on the Plains, the compliant elf scorched away by the fury of what her people had lost. In the bright, cold air of the Frostbacks, he admitted that he too had fallen, and called her his heart.
Cole held Fen'lath as she slept, tears streaking down her freckled cheeks that were bare of vallaslin. He wanted to make her forget, to relieve the pain of the memories haunting her dreams. The Anchor flared, and Fen shifted with a little noise. An answering flutter brushed at Cole, discomfited by the Anchor and making itself known. He looked, and gave a sad, watery smile, placing a gentle hand on Fen's stomach.
"Hello, little wolf cub."