***The Next Evening ***
Solona Amell stood at the battlements, looking into the west and watching the sun set. She did this every night, watching the last embers of the day dying.
I should have died that night, she thought disconsolately. Maker, I should have never let him go to Morrigan, I should have simply taken that blow and perished and been done with it all. But that was all her own fault, and she knew it. You'd think that I had never learned that breaking the rules could have consequences.
She could hardly swallow past the lump in her throat, and as the sun slipped below the horizon, painting the clouds in gold and pink and purple, tears slipped over her cheeks. Every night she grieved, and she didn't know when or if it would end… after all, her love still lived, and yet there was no hope of them being together again - not ever.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks, thankful for the solitude up here. As the Arlessa of Amaranthine and Warden-Commander of the Grey, she couldn't afford let her people see her as weak. It would cause them to doubt her fitness to lead - and that doubt might be enough to cause them to hesitate and get themselves killed - or to make Howe's supporters think she was easily dealt with. She had to be the Hero of Ferelden - even when she desperately wished someone could come rescue her for a change.
It had been sheer torture seeing Alistair again - even briefly - right after she cleared the darkspawn from Vigil's Keep. She'd bent her knee, made all the right noises and (she hoped) had hidden her inner turmoil behind a stony facade. She'd caught a brief glimpse of Alistair's eyes, and the look in them was so sad and pained that she'd focused on his breastplate and the royal seal after that. She wasn't sure how she felt about him also being unhappy - to her mind, he was the one causing them both to suffer. And while she'd been trying to be professional and distant, that templar bitch had tried to take Anders away to death or worse.
Solona's fist tightened until she felt her nails biting into her palms, her despair deepening into a smoldering rage. Alistair was probably the only person present aside from herself who knew how close to death Rylock had been when she announced that she would see Anders hanged for murder. It had been a shock - a pleasant one - to come upon Anders in the Keep after all that time, and she had been relieved to have her oldest friend and confidant fighting at her side and getting her people to safety. When Rylock named him murderer and threatened to drag him back to the circle and have him killed, Solona had been a thought away from roasting her in her armor like a suckling pig. Solona was DONE with losing pieces of her life.
When the templar tried to override the conscription, Solona had given Alistair a look that both asked him to step in as ruler and promised that Anders was going nowhere without a fight. With a slight nod, he'd given her what she wanted and told his pet mage-hunter to stand down.
Solona supposed he probably felt it really was the least he could do, a sort of peace offering between them. She'd managed a curt nod and thank you, and then asked if there were anything else she could do… he'd recognized the question for what it was: a pulling away, and a subtle suggestion he should get the hell out of her sight. The templar stormed off, leaving Solona with the distinct feeling this wasn't over. In the sudden relative privacy, Alistair had stepped forward, saying softly, "Solona…."
"Don't." She'd heard her voice quiver once, hated herself for the weakness. "Unless something has changed, there's nothing more to say, is there?"
"I'd hoped…" he faltered.
"So had I," she said pointedly. "By your leave… there is much to do." Without waiting for an answer, she'd turned, signaling Mhairi, Oghren and Anders to come with her.
She knew it was the only thing she could do to preserve his dignity and hers - but Maker, it had hurt.
She felt the tingle of her senses alerting her to darkspawn taint at the same time the soft scrape of leather against stone reached her ears, and a familiar, warm voice said softly, "Copper for your thoughts?"
Solona shrugged, and turned to face her fellow mage. "I'm afraid I'd get the better of that bargain, Anders. My thoughts are hardly worth even that little."