Characters belong to BioWare. Now go hail Your Trainer! ;)
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Gently and precisely, the paintbrush swished over the stuccoed walls, caressing the ancient stones and coating them with a delicate shade of blue. A perfect mixture of blended blueberries, herbs, ethereal oils and a little magic of Old.
Solas was painting for the ages.
He finished a stroke and took a step back on the scaffold to admire his record of the dress empress Celene had worn at the Winter Palace. He supported an elbow on top of one arm, tapping his chin lightly, and, after a moment, finally allowed the tension to leave his brows. He tilted his head. The corners of his lips curling upward. This was-
"Yeugh!"
Solas forced his eyes shut. Exhaled. His concentration did not usually break easily, but he did not take lightly to anyone cutting through the peaceful and wholesome aura enhancing his creative flow. Especially not with an annoyed groan. This was precisely one of the reasons why he chose to paint his frescos in the dark of night, after even the tranquil researcher had left for her quarters. Painting was Solas' means of deep focus and relaxation. A preparation for his journeys into the Fade.
He looked up.
Through the baluster he spotted the centre of Skyhold's attention sitting in the Tevinter's favourite chair, huddled up in a blanket, looking forlorn and a little frustrated as she skimmed through a thick tome. His features relaxed. Wary of her at their first meeting he found himself warming up to the human mage quite easily. Her curiosity, her actions and kind heart surprised him. Much to Solas' own surprise he'd come to think of her… as a friend.
His initial annoyance was gone and replaced by curiosity.
"Inquisitor?"
She was caught off-guard. "I'm sorry, Solas. I didn't mean to disturb you."
"It's quite all right.", he replied, holding her gaze for a moment longer. She tried a smile and returned to her book but Solas wasn't fooled.
He put away his painting tools, climbed down the scaffold and headed up the stairs to the library. The Inquisitor caught his eye, looking at him apologetically.
Solas shook his head, not unkind. "You look troubled. What's the matter?"
Inquisitor Trevelyan sighed and half-closed the book to show the cover.
'Birth of the Rift Mage. An Incunabula by Grand Enchanters Théodosia d'Alienaux and Eulalia Mamadou'
It was the mandatory so-called study book the Inquisitor was expected to read should she decide to follow this discipline. Solas had naturally skimmed through it, briefly, only to go to sleep and shake off its ridiculous aftertaste. The writ was compiled by elderly theorist mages, likely such as the Inquisitor's personal trainer herself, and contained thoughts on the nature of the Fade and its way of shaping forces while concentrating on common worldly elemental magic. An utter and complete hoax.
Solas leaned back against a bookcase, his attention snapping to the night sky through the window. "Ah, yes, I heard you have begun practising new magical forms. Interesting that you would pick such an esoteric field of study." He turned to face her. "May I ask, did our journey to the Western Approach inspire you to do so?"
"To some extent, yes. I hoped that studying rift magic would help me better understand the Fade. To help me control it. It seems, though, that 'Your Trainer' is hellbent on keeping me busy working on my blizzards and firestorms while trying to come up with anything Rift-related in the first place. I swear, spending time with Helisma was far more fruitful than this." She sighed at the book.
Solas chuckled lightly. "I'm glad I did not misjudge your ability to see through the lines."
"That's me. Inquisitor Trevelyan, Vanquisher of Falsities." Her smile faded. "I've been at this for days."
"So why do you keep reading it? If you wish to expand your skill set I would recommend you to have a look at necromancy or weapon enchanting instead."
"Anaxas keeps staring at me like a piece of dead meat. Given what he is, I'm not sure if that speaks for his eagerness to teach me or if I should just be frightened by him. The Knight-Enchanter, well-" she took a deep breath. "To be honest, I'm more than content with my elemental magic. I'm trying to find something."
"Something about the Fade?", Solas asked. She nodded, reluctantly. "It was probably a bad idea."
"Of course it was!", he exclaimed. Part of him was insulted that she chose to waste her time on shoddy literature and an old woman who couldn't even remember her name - instead of consulting him. "You should have come to me straight away! You know where I am."
Taken aback by his brash reaction, she looked away, a little flustered. "It's… about a matter not related to the Inquisition. Or, not really."
He took a moment to return to his usual calmness. "If it troubles you enough to keep you busy at a time when you should be resting it is related to the Inquisition."
Trevelyan smiled, appreciating the sentiment, a wistful and faraway expression spreading across her features. "I know how busy you are with your research, Solas. I didn't wish to trouble you, to impose…", she trailed off. Solas didn't recall ever seeing her so insecure, not even when he first met her close to Haven.
The Inquisitor had been burdened with the mark, shoved around, declared a leader and accepted the title, governing with a sense of justice he had not expected from a mortal, let alone her kind. Another human would have laughed at his plea to rescue a spirit from a summoning circle and would have stopped him from executing his judgement. Another human would have shunned the nature of a spirit and turned it into a human only to appease the templar. Another human would have sacrificed the Qunari's Chargers in favour of an alliance with the heathens. Another human would have spat upon the confession of a queer Tevinter and handed him over to his father, or worse.
This human never asked anything in return.
Solas pulled up a chair. "Inquisitor, if I can help, it would be my pleasure to do so." He returned her hopeful eyes with a smile. "Tell me what I can do for you."
She exhaled, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "You explained to me that the places we visit in our dreams, or in the Fade in general are shaped from our own memories. Like that time when you took me back to Haven."
"In… a broad sense.", Solas nodded slowly. He refrained from setting her definition right just yet, curious about where her inquisitiveness would lead.
"Could I learn to enter the dream realm of another person and help them control it? Similar to what Cole did with me at Therinfal Redoubt?"
Her genuine interest in the workings of the Fade was truly refreshing. "You are confusing two things, Inquisitor. When we journeyed to Haven, I shaped it from the fond memories of its survivors here at Skyhold. I'm afraid I could not have been able to paint it as idyllic as it was, based on my short time there. At Therinfal Redoubt, Cole helped you fight a possession. The envy demon pulled you into the Fade without your consent, from your waking state. From what I understand the circumstances of your Harrowing should have been similar, only that you were prepared to face corruption then."
"Maker, my Harrowing felt like a formality compared to this.", Trevelyan admitted. "I owe everything to Cole. If he hadn't been there, I-"
"I helped. I'm glad." The spirit had appeared out of thin air, perching on the balustrade, his face concealed by his large hat.
"How long have you been here, Cole?", the Inquisitor wondered, amused.
"Since the book stopped distracting you."
"Distracting me?"
"He's asleep. Heart hammering. Fingers grasping at the silk. Tossing. Turning. No. Not again. Your hand covers his heart. His forehead glistens in sweat. His torture is your pain. You shake him awake, cradle his head as his breathing evens. I'm here. Your heart bleeds for him. You want to help."
There was a deep pain in the Inquisitor's eyes as the spirit spoke. She closed them in silent affirmation. And then it struck him. Solas had seen that look before. On another face, in another world, in another time. A young elf, freed from the markings of the goddess Andruil. His secret. The one thing he truly regretted leaving behind. A glimpse of a bittersweet memory, and then it was gone.
"I cannot help.", Cole complained, turning to Solas. "They won't let me in and he doesn't trust me."
"'They'? Who are 'they'?", Trevelyan wondered.
"'They' are the demons responsible for the commander's nightmares. Dreams are indeed the products of our memories and the reflection of our choices, but it is not that simple. They are permeated by spirits affecting and reshaping our dream world - that is why an unconscious dreamer will find himself wandering exotic places he's never visited, encounter the strangest people and most wondrous creatures, and never question their rightful existence. The commander has faced a great deal of demons and corruption in his life. He has made himself known to the most dangerous spirits, and that is why they haunt him. They are feeding on his fears, growing stronger the more weaknesses they can find, warding him off from the friendly spirits that wish to help as he dreams."
"The lyrium helped. Now you are all that he has left.", Cole interjected. "But they're using you against him. Like Envy tried to use him against you."
Trevelyan's eyes widened. "Solas. Please. I am a mage, and more familiar with the Fade than many others out there. There must be a way I can stop those nightmares."
Solas was drawing frighteningly close to a point that would risk exposing himself and the truth, and he was acutely aware of it. But seeing the Inquisitor's eyes light up over the prospect of helping her beloved warmed Solas from within. He found himself utterly beyond caring about the consequences.
Later, much later, he would tell himself that he only shared his sensitive knowledge and abilities with the Inquisitor because he needed her at her best to face Corypheus. He would deny the sight of her emotional vulnerability to have been the stimulus to journey to Crestwood and drift into a deep sleep at the lake with the two facing harts. And he would never, ever admit to himself to find himself longing for the company of his friend when it all was over.
After all, it would be most unfitting for the Dread Wolf to admit to caring about anything else than the burden he carried.
"There is, indeed, a way. Difficult but not entirely impossible." Solas got up from his chair. "Come, da'len, I will teach you."
"Da'len?", Trevelyan tilted her head.
"Little one."
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Old softie. I want to ruffle Solas' nonexistent wolf pelt. Love that guy, even if his romance left me drowning in tears. Meh.