The sun had already risen in the place Ophaeri had led her, and it was a gorgeous morning. It appeared as if they were amidst the ruins of some ancient temple. Stone, battered with age and decorated with vines peppered the landscape in such an array it suggested the ghost of a great hall, or perhaps a grand ballroom. She heard the dull roar of a waterfall somewhere behind the sea of massive trees that framed the large clearing with an interweaving of twisted limbs. She was unsure of the age of these ruins, but the sight of a statue of a wolf led her to believe this land belonged to her ancestors.
She ambled over to the statue, practically scared to breathe and cause even the most minor disturbance to the peace of this place. She had seen many monuments of Fen'harel throughout her journeys—even her clan had used them as appeasements—but this felt realer than the rest, as if the stone eyes were preparing to blink into life, the rigid head to turn and look at her. Her hand wavered, outstretched in desire to touch it. Did Illivere and his group worship these statues of the god? Is that why he mentioned his name? Perhaps Ophaeri had come to make an offering? She had never known any Dalish to worship the Dread Wolf; most clans erected statues in attempts to pacify his potential wrath.
The wolf was glaring stoically off into what she assumed to be forest, but after following its gaze she discovered it was observing a narrow path that parted the trees. Glancing around for any indication of Ophaeri, she started off in that direction. The path, upon closer inspection, was crafted from the same stone as the rest of the ruin. After many years the blocks had eroded so that they were dangerously uneven and Mirana was forced to watch each step. This slowed her progress enormously, and by the time she reached the walkway's end Ophaeri was already speaking to somebody.
Mirana ended up in what she could safely assume had been a library. Though only a large corner remained of the walls, bookshelves were spread out in a way that suggested the former shape of the place. Each one had to be at least ten feet tall and filled with tomes of every size. How they had gotten out here, she had no clue, as they certainly weren't original. It seemed that someone was putting in an effort to recapture whatever splendor this decaying palace had contained.
Several paintings lay in frames against the beginnings of a new wall. One of them in particular caught her eye; it detailed the side-profile of a woman holding a small child. The woman was smiling blissfully, her eyes closed as she pressed her forehead to the child's. She stepped closer. Unlike the woman, who she now recognized to be a pale-headed elf, the child stared directly at the viewer. The shape of her face, of her lips, the faint shadow of eyelashes against her pink cheeks—she was looking at Mala'nan. Her baby stared back at her with matching green eyes full of wonder and innocence, but there was a strange feeling of accusation within them as well. Her heart was pounding, though now it was with just as much a result of fear as of hope. It was impossible…
"I'm afraid I have bad news," Mirana heard Ophaeri say, "awful, in fact. I'm sorry that I couldn't come right away, we had an incident in camp involving-" She was cut off by something and Mirana, still pouring over the portrait, didn't look over until she heard his voice.
"Mirana," he said, breathing her name as if it had not been spoken in some time. It felt funny; it didn't sound right to him. It didn't feel enough. Nothing would ever be enough, not anymore. Not after what he had done. Yet here she stood, the ghost of all his misdoings coming to torture him with the eyes of his forsaken child. He watched the shock on her face morph into a joy so pained he could feel its reciprocal in his own countenance. Dressed in armor and armed to the teeth, had she come to find him? Did she know? His eyes roamed her, absorbing all they could of the beautiful woman who likely would never look at him this way again.
"Solas?"
He moved closer to her, his smile darkened with sadness. "It has been some time," was all he could think to say. Her appearance had stunned him just as much as his did to her. He could see her struggling to decide whether she should hug him or decapitate him, and for some reason that made his heart ache for her even more.
"Where were you?" she whispered, covering the gap he had left them in a few, slow strides. "Why did you not come back?"
"I told you that I had to leave, I was under the impression that you understood."
"But not even for her!" she cried out, pointing to the painting. "You wouldn't come back even for your own daughter?"
His face grew ashen. He had been expecting this argument, but certainly not this soon. He had pondered what exactly he would say to her in this moment, but no words could ever make her understand. "I wanted to, Mirana, I… I want to. So very badly." His eyes flashed to the portrait of his daughter. "I painted it not long after she found me in the Fade," he mused, expression clouded with wistfulness. "She was a tiny thing, hardly able to walk, yet she tottered to me with such gumption that I knew precisely who her mother was."
Mirana folded her arms across her chest, though her words came out a little less dogged than before. "How could she have been able to find you? She can barely feed herself, let alone navigate the Fade."
He gestured for her to walk with him, eager to find some privacy from the sharp ears of Ophaeri, who was wisely faking an interest in the grass. She reluctantly followed, her gaze lingering on her daughter until her painted visage was out of sight. He observed her as she stared as his work, fascinated. Was this how she looked at her, with eyes soft and deep and longing? The love with which she regarded her made his shoulders heavy with remorse yet filled his every cavity with such a warmth he felt as if he might float. It was similar to how she used to look at him, but far gentler, for it was shared between mother and child. An unbreakable bond, he knew, bound them together. With all his being he wished, not for the first time, that he would be able to witness this beautiful, unspoken promise of perpetual acceptance and adoration he had unintentionally created.
"Perhaps we were both searching for each other, somewhere in the backs of our minds. A child, too young to comprehend what a father is, yet knows she does not have one. And a father, too foolish to comprehend the implications of the word, finds himself picturing his daughter's face whenever his mind slips from his meticulously manipulated thoughts." He was silent for a moment, afraid his voice might betray him.
"A few times, upon waking, she would ask for her papae," she said quietly. "I do not think she knows she is fatherless." He couldn't bear to look at her, to see her trying so hard to forgive him because Creators knew she wanted to. But they both knew Solas didn't deserve it. Nor was he worthy of the title of father—he felt guilty even saying it aloud—and she was the one most aware.
When he was informed she was with child, he had been unable to imagine the immense fear she must be coping with, but he felt it when he would visit her in the Fade—a dark, abysmal sensation that weighed down the air around her. The thought of how much pain he had brought into her life was torturous. Some nights he felt undeserving of the air in his lungs. He had never truly been worried—Mirana was one of the most resourceful and hardy individuals he knew of—but the idea of raising a child on one's own was daunting to say the least. That, paired with his incessant self-loathing, had prepared him to accept that she had moved on. He was aware that it would be the best option for all involved parties, and he considered himself a fairly sensible man. Mala'nan would have the father he could never be, and Mirana would not wither, alone, in the prime of her life. But like a rose, she had remained rooted, instead adapting to the unforgiving environment by acquiring a set of thorns. He could sense this now, as obvious as if they were digging into his side. But past her cold features he knew beat a heart that was as gentle as it had been when he had broken it.
He turned to face her finally, ending their walk on a grassy ledge that overlooked a massive waterfall. She would never know how great his desire was to convince her to join him so that the three of them might live here happily. Together, in this magnificent remnant of her ancestors and of his near past. But even if he considered the notion of her actually accepting his plans of mass destruction, she would have been convinced unfairly. How he wished she had not drank from the Well of Sorrows, especially now, with Mythal's essence inhabiting his own. "I hope, more than anything I believed I have ever hoped for, that one day she will not be," he replied, bittersweet expression hiding a host of other, more torrent emotions.
His stone façade crumbled a little more at the way her face alighted. "Does that mean you wish to come back?"
He laughed breathily. "Of course, Mirana. I will always want to come back. There will always be a part of me which wishes for things that cannot be." The brief glow faded from her eyes as she grew sullen. "Remember the path I spoke of, years ago? I'm afraid it is still dark, and certainly no place for a child. No matter how much I desire it, my mind cannot be changed. Even now. But please, never doubt that there is a moment of mine not spent in agony, in guilt. After seeing her for the first time, I considered returning. I quarreled with the idea in my head for so long that I failed to notice my feet had taken me to Skyhold. I… I stood there, in the room containing the eluvian, for some time, contemplating because I knew that once I saw you, I would not be able to leave. Not twice.
"So, I played the coward. I accepted that the only plane in which I could visit my daughter would be nonphysical. I accepted that I would never lay eyes on your lovely form again because, truthfully, I was scared. Terrified, even, because it is very rare for someone to make me consider things, truly consider them, as you have already with my opinion of the Dalish.
"I have told you, long ago now, it seems, that the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt the world change. After growing to love you, I felt that I, too, was changing. For the sake of my people, I could not allow that, regardless of my feelings. I am doubtful, but I still hope that one day you might understand my motivations and the necessity that drives them. The mistakes I have made are irreversible, as most mistakes are. I have failed so many in my lifetime, Mirana. I did not want to add my daughter's name to that extensive list, but I had no choice."
"There is always a choice, Solas," Mirana whispered as she pressed a tender hand to his cheek. "There will always be a choice."
He relished in her touch for a second before moving out of her reach. His smile was painful. "And I am afraid, in your eyes, I will always choose wrong." He clasped his hands behind his back, steeling himself for what must be said. "Which is why I believe it is best, for you and our daughter-"
"Say her name!" She screamed at him, overwhelmed and frustrated because she had told herself that he would return. "Say her name, you fucking coward!" She knew, she just knew that if she could only speak with him one last time, she could change his mind. He would smile and kiss her and apologize, to which of course he would be forgiven, and they would go home. They would be a family because that is what you did when you brought a child into the world. After you felt them beginning to grow within you, a part of you was lost to them. After you felt them kick, the first signs of life, you knew that you would die for them. After you felt their tiny fingers grasp yours, you knew you would kill for them. This was how it was meant to be, she had forced herself to believe. How could he just deny she and Mala'nan as if they were merely another mistake?
He visibly flinched away, startled by her outburst. His eyes narrowed as he prepared a retort, but faltered at the desperation on her face, at the stubborn tears that threatened to slide off of her lashes and down her cheeks. He had no right to anger, or even irritation, because he had caused this. Their daughter's incredibly harmful name was a consequence of his actions and his alone. He could not blame her for her pain, for this aggressive strike upon him using the only child he would ever have. My revenge. But if that were true, would he not feel some sort of grim satisfaction that often came with an act of vengeance? Her life was an act of revenge, yes, but rather than his own he believed her to be retribution for his misdeeds. For, as much as it aggrieved Mirana whenever she lay eyes on the child, it would aggrieve Solas tenfold to never have that luxury. All he would have are tiny moments in the Fade, now, when her youth spared her any potential recollection of him in the future. There, he could hold her to his chest as he walked, pointing out the most fascinating sights in the places he took her. He could tell her stories of fantastical creatures and of heroes, men and women who fought for what they believed, ignoring of the constraints of right and wrong. He yearned so badly for her to know of his special, gray world.
But she would never know, and she would grow up to hate him. If she even was able to grow up at all. He shuddered at the idea, but assured himself he would find a way to save her. Save both of them. In the Fade, however, he tried to minimize these horrifying thoughts, focusing instead on his daughter's giggling face. "Mir enansal, mir athim," he would call her. My blessing, my humility. He knew that this small period of her life would be the only in which she could love him and dreaded with each passing day the inevitability of his retreat from her life. He still had so much to teach her, so much love to give and kisses to plant on her forehead. They would share an occasional moment, however, where he had cause to doubt the certainty of her eventual hatred. Moments when she would stare him and the most beautiful smile would spread across her tiny lips. It was as if she could see right through him, past all his transgressions and ancient hurt, and bore witness the side of him he never knew existed: a father. They shared a love of such innocence, such meaningful blindness, that Solas believed that perhaps it would be his redemption. If he could love a child as much as she, he thought, there might be something in him worth saving.
But it was only a foolish impulse; he deserved everything he would get. He became reassured of this now as he looked at the woman who had been so furious at him she crafted that name. Perhaps if he continued to punish himself, he would feel better about his conscience.
"I… I cannot. Please, do not make me."
Mirana opened her mouth to continue disparaging him, but found herself unable to speak. She grasped at her throat, looking around with wild, confused eyes before eventually her voice returned. "W-what just happened?" She shook her head, finally seeming to come to her senses. "You know what, it doesn't matter. Coming here was a mistake. I've already wasted too much time." She turned around and began marching back the way they came, using her determination to mask the impending breakdown.
"Wait!" he called out, jogging to catch up to her. When she abruptly stopped, he let out an impatient huff, "I mean, do as you wish, I would just prefer that you wait." She sent green daggers in his direction as he moved next to her but made no attempt to keep going. He needed to be careful with his words, lest she figure out his power over her. "Please, I would like to know why you decided to come here, if it was not in search of me."
Her eye twitched in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Still conceded as always, it seemed. "Why ask me when you could just retrieve one of the spies in my castle? Or was that what Ophaeri was debriefing you on when I got here? What even are you all? Illivere said that you all are agents of Fen'harel; does this mean you're some kind of cult leader? Why would that require spies in Skyhold?"
Solas shook his head impatiently. "Simply put, yes, we are in service of the Dread Wolf. If that is what you could consider a cult, then so be it. The spies are merely informants; they carry no plans of attack."
She snorted. "How comforting. Well, regardless, I really must be going. This matter is far more important than trying to reason with you." She headed off again without a look back, thinking herself very strong, until the portrait came into view. Her steps faltered as guilt tied her stomach in knots. If he knew, did she believe he would still be here, not searching? Despite all her anger, she did not. She sighed, brushing an exhausted hand through her hair before whirling back around. He had followed her at a distance but was quickly in front of her by the time she said, "Mala'nan is missing. She was kidnapped last night. I was trailing Ophaeri because I believed she might lead me to her."
He blinked. He had been expecting many things, but definitely not this. Usually, a million thoughts spun around in his head and he could just pluck any coherent one out, but now he was speechless. For the first time, Mirana saw a Solas without words. Rather, he was a bundle of emotions, the first of which was astonishment, then came fear, and then the fury. She watched them all appear on his face, normally so composed and collected. Now, the darkness in his gaze was enough to frighten her. She tried to back away, but he grabbed her arms and pulled her closer. "Have you any idea who might have done this?"
"Someone who desires power over the Inquisition and lacks fear of public retaliation."
His eyes widened in realization before narrowing again. He released her then went to snatch his staff from where it rested against a bookshelf. He was unsure whether this was a stab at the Inquisition or at him, but either way this day would be their final one. He knew of one particular group that fit the description and exactly where to find them.
"Come," he ordered, "I believe it is the Qunari that have taken her. Only they would have the motivation and the utter brazenness to commit such an atrocity."
She followed him, of her own volition this time. "The Qunari? How are we supposed to take on an entire nation?"
"We are not, at least, not all at once. We will find where they have hidden her and remove anyone who stands in our way." His eyes flashed he added, "I do not think they will be expecting the Dread Wolf."
Mirana shot him an incredulous look before they stepped through the eluvian. "What, are we going to summon him?" she inquired jokingly.
He smirked. "I suppose one could say that."