Hello all! Gosh it's been a long time since I've posted any new fanfiction. I'm a new poster to the Dragon Age fandom, but I'm a long time reader. I'm a little late to the Solavellan game but I've fallen hard for this wonderful hell.

Every chapter will be like a one-shot, taken in either Solas' or Lavellan's point of view. I haven't written too much yet, but I got too excited when I finished this chapter to not post it right away. I am a busy person, with a job and a family, and write when I can, so I unfortunately do not have a posting schedule. As time goes on I hope to settle into a routine, but, for now, please bear with what I can give you. c:

If there is a scene that you'd like to see between Solas and my Inquisitor, please send me a message on here or on my tumblr ( link is in my profile ). I have some prompts saved already but I'd love to know! Feel free to also leave a review please and thank you!

Beta'd by: quinnlocke (tumblr)

Hope

Running. She was running. Her breath caught in her throat, leaving her gasping. Her muscles ached for her to stop but she had to keep going. The metal tang of blood was in her mouth. She could feel the dragon's fire at her back, the heat of it urging her forward. Its bright light showed a face in the darkness; a look of sinister evil. Those eyes, that face: she knew that she would never forget it. He caught her, lifting her from the ground by her arm as he did at Haven. She gasped in pain and tried to scream, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. She hung there, helpless, failing at the attempt to release herself from his claws.

Corypheus effortlessly brought her body closer to his face, a snarl on his features. "You will kneel." His voice echoed in her mind. It was all she could hear. Her eyes widened as she saw his dragon behind him. It opened its mouth, and she could see the fire rising from its throat. It was going to kill her she was going to burn alive she was going to die—

She jolted herself upward from her bedroll, a loud gasp escaping her throat. Her slender hands reached for her throat as she attempted to catch her breath. She could still feel the ancient magister's large claws on them. The elf looked around her, remembering that she was in her tent. They all escaped Haven, and were traveling through the Frostback Mountains. They were safe, for now.

"It was just a dream," she told herself quietly. Lavellan ran her fingers through her ebony hair, letting the quiet of the night calm her. The chatter of the soldiers and townspeople sounded in her sensitive ears. Sleep must have claimed her for only a few hours, which had become a norm for her ever since she started her journey to the Conclave just a few short months ago.

Suddenly her tent was too hot. Throwing off her pelts, Lavellan jumped out of her bedroll and out of her small tent, shocked at the chill of the outside. Fires were scattered throughout the makeshift campsite. A few soldiers were traversing through the camp, keeping watch. She saw them look up, watching the skies for the ancient Tevinter magister and his Archdemon dragon. A frown marred her features and she shook the thought right from her head.

A light snort caught her attention. A Red Hart nudged his nose right into Lavellan's scarred hand, as if to ask if she was alright. The massive animal shook his head and almost hit the nearby tents in the process. "I'm fine, Irosyl. Peace, you lummox," she said to him in a teasing manner, to which he snorted again and settled himself into the snow beneath him. Lavellan scratched her beloved hart just below his forehead, his favorite spot. "I'll be right back. Don't get into trouble while I'm gone."

Lavellan turned and started to weave through the tents, making her way to the outskirts of the camp. All she really wanted was to stop for a moment and think while she still could. Supposedly, they were a few days journey away from wherever it was Solas was leading them, after already traveling from the ruins of Haven for almost three weeks. Except, Lavellan was leading them while Solas was just telling her where to go. But, still, the people followed her footsteps through the mountains; almost like it didn't matter that she was an elf, not to mention a bare-footed, tattooed Dalish child of the forest with skin kissed by the sun.

Crossing her arms, Lavellan slowed down as the line of tents became fewer and the light from the fires dimmed, leaving only the partial moon's glow to light her way. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her breath showing in the chilly air. The nightmare was still on her mind, but it was easier to distract herself as she gazed at the Frostback peaks. She'd never seen a mountain range as large as this. The Free Marches had their peaks, but not on the same scale as the Frostbacks. She came to a stop at the top of a ridge to admire the view.

Her deft fingers weaved their way through her dark hair as a breeze took the strands across her face. She slowly began to braid her long bangs, her mind wandering again. Since being lost in the wilderness after confronting Corypheus, Lavellan had lost her traditional feathers and smaller braids and instead settled for a simple braid.

The soft crunch of snow behind her broke her of her thoughts, and she turned her head to see a familiar face.

"Are you well, Herald?" asked Solas, his hands together behind his back as he approached her. A thick fur pelt was nestled around his shoulders, making him look quite… regal, Lavellan noted. It was unusual to think that of Solas, since he wouldn't normally wear such extravagances. Dorian would faint at the sight.

The Herald shook her head as she finished tying the braids together behind her head. "I'm fine, really." She met his eyes and wasn't surprised to find the knowledge behind his gaze, like he could see right through her. She looked away, suddenly flustered. "I mean—It's been, um... I just needed some… air." She could feel the tips of her pointed ears grow hot with embarrassment but hoped the other elf would think it was from the cold. Why did she always react to him this way?

A light chuckle escaped from Solas' lips. "Peace, lethallan. What has you so rattled in the middle of the night?" His eyes, the color of the sea, met hers, and locked her in place.

Lavellan had a feeling he knew what she was going to say. Solas always could read her better than their other companions could. Her head dropped slightly as she spoke. "I saw his face in my dreams," she said, quiet enough that she wasn't sure if he heard her over the wind. "He grabbed me, there was fire and…"

Solas took a step closer to her. "It is understandable that Corypheus would haunt you. It is not everyone that faces an Archdemon and lives."

That was it, though. She didn't want this to be the bane of her existence. When she first came to the Conclave, Lavellan didn't think that she would be anyone special. All she wanted to do was fade into the shadows and listen to the antsy humans argue over their war between the mages and templars. After all, her Keeper sent her to spy and see how this would affect the Dalish. This trip was supposed to be for maybe some months of traveling and adventure that she normally wouldn't have experienced while traveling with her clan. It wasn't as if she meant to be the only survivor, falling out of the Beyond. This wasn't what she pictured this to be at all.

A shiver racked through her body and the small elf rubbed her hands over her arms in an attempt to warm them; she wasn't sure if it was from her thoughts or the cold. The chilly wind went right through the thick wool sweater that she was wearing.

A familiar weight, one that almost brought her to the days when she was with her clan, was suddenly draped over her shoulders. Lavellan glanced to see that Solas had placed his wolf pelt on her. Taking a hold of the pelt, she tucked it closer to her body, reveling in its warmth. It smells like him. "Thank you, Solas," she said, blinking her sky blue eyes gratefully at him.

Solas inclined his head to her. "You are welcome, lethallan." His hands lingered on her shoulders momentarily, and Lavellan noticed suddenly how close he was to her. Not that she really minded.

And, just like that, the moment was gone. Solas took a step away and joined his hands behind his back, turning his head towards the mountains.

Lavellan cleared her throat to break the silence. "The stronghold that you're taking us to, what is it called?"

"Tarasyl'an Te'las," Solas replied, speaking in Elvhen so fluently she'd forgotten he wasn't Dalish. "The place where the sky was held back."

"I'm sure the humans don't call it that."

"No. The name Skyhold has been passed down through the ages in the common tongue."

"How did you find out about it? From the Fade?" she asked curiously.

Solas nodded. "Yes. I was in the area just before the Breach. In the Fade, Tarasyl'an Te'las was a very bright place with a long and rich history. The spirits there reflected a time when there was an enchanter during the Divine Age, who wanted to find out the secrets that lay dormant there for centuries, but never succeeded. It was suspected that it was a ritual site for the ancient elves, though none knows presently what it was used for."

Lavellan listened quietly as he explained and found herself soothed by his voice. He had a calm way of talking that she found comforting. "Could you see why it was so important?"

It was then that Solas glanced at her, as if to see how deeply she would read his reaction. "I could see pieces of the puzzle. I assumed from the ambience and the way the spirits interacted with one another that the enchanter was right. Skyhold was most likely built upon an ancient temple for one of our Pantheon."

A smile appeared on Lavellan's lips. "Could you tell which god it was for?"

He paused. "No."

Her smile faded slightly. "A shame."

Solas nodded his head once, acknowledging her comment. "It is, but it will be put to use again. The magic there protects those that live behind its walls from evil." He took a step closer to her, standing closer to her than she hadn't thought she wanted until then. He looked at her intensely, as if to push with just the pressure of his eyes how important his words were. "By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus changed it—changed you. By scouting this far north and being their guide, you will give the people the hope that they need to continue down this path. Skyhold waits for a force to hold it. It is a place where the Inquisition can build. And grow."

Lavellan took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, suddenly feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. "And you think I can lead them all there? That I should?" Her small hands clenched the wolf pelt around her shoulders tighter and pulled it closer. His smell was emanating from the pelt, she noticed. Or is it because he's standing so close?

Solas gave her a knowing smile and placed his larger hand on her shoulder, comforting and grounding her. "I don't just think. I know you can. It will take a great deal of effort of your part, but you have earned the trust of the Inquisition. Do you not see yourself fit to lead them?"

Lavellan held his gaze. "I've never thought myself fit to lead anyone, much less an entire organization. But I have to, don't I?" She could hear the confidence building in her voice. "I'm the one with the mark. If you think I can do it, then maybe I can." She paused, feeling her cheeks gaining heat again. "You'll be there to help me, won't you?"

"I will help the Inquisition any way I can, lethallan," he said softly. His tone suggested more than he said.

Her lips curved slightly upwards into a smile. "As you say."

There were many times in their travels that Lavellan wondered what it would be like to be held against his broad chest or even holding his hand. Would he allow her to touch him that way? Would he flinch away? Solas seemed to be the type of person that kept to himself, that never let anyone sees his true self. She wondered what was behind that mask of his, and what secrets were there. She tilted her chin just slightly higher. The sharp angles of his face were highlighted by the given moonlight, casting an ethereal glow on his skin.

"You should try to get some more sleep, Herald," said Solas. "Morning will be upon us soon. This journey will require much of your strength."

She could feel his warm breath on her skin. "Yes," she whispered.

His face was so close to her own. It wouldn't have taken much effort to lift herself up to her toes and kiss his lips. When he moved away from her, taking his hand off of her shoulder, his absence was immediately missed. It was then that she remembered to breath. He began to walk away from her.

"You can call me by my name, you know," she blurted out. When Solas turned to look at her curiously, she couldn't meet his gaze and looked at the mountains in the distance with reddening cheeks. "I mean, lethallan is fine and all, but you can use my name. If you want to, I mean."

An amused look emerged on Solas' features. "As you say, Nira."

"I hope you have sweet dreams, Solas."

"Perhaps I already am."

Before she could see the look on his face, Solas had already turned around and walked back towards the camp, and she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

-X-

Irosyl had such impatience because of their slow pace. Nira had to ride ahead and go back near the head of the group several times just to ease the hart's annoyance. He was a born runner, living up to his name—Racing Air. Cassandra let her go without a fuss, though Josephine was nervous to let her go so far by herself. Everyone was still on edge after what happened at Haven.

One time when she was ahead of them all, close enough to the scouts, Nira looked behind her to the many people behind her, following her lead and risking their lives through the mountains for her. Trusting her with everything they had. The mass of mixed races—humans, elves, dwarves, and Qunari, too—all depended on her. It was hard to see them and not be emotional. Nira felt the tears stinging her eyes as she once again felt that weight on her shoulders, the burden of responsibility that was thrust upon her.

No, it wasn't fair that she was thrown off the path she thought she was destined for with her clan. By accepting her Keeper's offer to travel to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she altered her life forever. Her hand was scarred with ancient elven magic, and an entire organization now turned their eyes to her for guidance. There were many times she wanted to ride away from it all, from her advisors, companions, and the breach. She wore the vallaslin of Sylaise, the hearthkeeper; Nira wasn't a fighter, or even thought herself capable of such violence that she'd done in the last several months. She could barely aim with her bow and arrows while following Cassandra up the path to where the breach started.

Back then, Nira wanted nothing to do with the Inquisition. Now, it was something that she had to do. She had to muster the courage to protect them and guide them in the days to come. Sera, Varric, and Cullen taught her the basics of archery and how to handle close combat. Her body became toned and agile as time went on and her training progressed. But, again, it was something she had to accomplish. Without her or her mark, Thedas would fall. She couldn't let that happen.

"Herald! You must see this!" a scout ahead of her shouted. When Nira turned her head, he was waving her over. Her heels dug into Irosyl's side and he swiftly ran up the path to where the scouts were waiting for her.

They waited at the top of a cliff. Nira stopped her hart and gracefully climbed off of him, making her way up. As she could see over the rocks, she could feel her breath catch in her throat.

In the distance was a mighty fortress. Her mouth fell open, amazed. Solas wasn't wrong; even from how far away they were, it stood proudly against the mountains like it was meant to be there. Nira addressed the scouts without turning her head from the sight, "How long will it take to reach it?"

"At our current pace? I'd say no later than tomorrow."

"Good," she replied. "You will go ahead of us, please. Take a few soldiers with you to cut a safe path from here to there. We have to make sure the fortress isn't home to anything harmful."

The scout thrust his fist to his chest. "Yes, Herald."

She nodded to him with a smile as he turned to leave. "Thank you for your hard work!" she said after him. When he left, Nira looked again at the distant fortress. The smile on her face grew brighter. It was the most beautiful and wondrous thing that Nira had seen in weeks. She had to admit it was nice to feel that happy again, and she could feel herself growing emotional. Before she could notice, tears fell from her sky blue eyes and she let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding.

Footsteps sounded behind her, though she had no need to turn around.

"Is that..?" she heard Cullen ask quietly as she wiped away the tears on her cheeks.

"Yes," Solas answered him matter-of-factly. "That is Skyhold."

"Pretty impressive place, Dancer," said Varric. "Will it be big enough for all of us?"

Leliana countered, "I wouldn't worry so much about its size, but more about its disrepair. We should assume it hasn't been inhabited for decades."

"Boss, my boys and I can clear out the place, if you like," said Iron Bull. Nira could tell he was itching for a fight of some kind.

"Good idea, Bull," Cassandra agreed. "Gather up the Chargers and move out with the scouts within the hour."

"Sounds good! We should be ready by the time you guys catch up," he smirked, and his heavy footsteps signified he had left.

Nira heard them talking some more, but their voices sounded so far away. The sight of Skyhold froze her on the spot.

"Herald?" Josephine said. "Did you hear me?"

Nira blinked her eyes, snapped out of her trance, and looked at the ambassador. "What was that?"

The other woman cleared her throat gently. "I was suggesting that we stop to rest."

"Oh! Oh, yes, of course," said Nira, her cheeks reddening from embarrassment. "We should definitely do that. Resting is good."

Josephine continued to give Nira an update on the status of their followers, and she couldn't help but glance back at Skyhold one more time before descending the hill with her advisors.