Chapter Seven

Solas had slammed the door behind him as he left, making a quick get-away towards his chosen santuary. He passed Varric without acknowledging him as the rogue greeted him. Varric was left confused and equally concerned. It didn't escape the dwarf or anyone present in the Great Hall of the door to the Inquisitor's rooms being slammed shut; an elven mage speeding away like a dragonling was snapping at his heels. Varric pondered for a moment, pulling out his chair at the table near the lively hearth. He picked up his quill, twirled it in his hand. Varric frowned, setting it down and shook his head, scooted out of his seat and followed where Solas ran off to.

Said elven mage was pacing to and fro in his circluar room of his painted frescos. He paced and paced, his heart thundering in his chest like a blacksmith's hammer to white hot metal. He rubbed at his face, stopped and stared at nothing in particular as his mind reeled over moments earlier. 'Lavellan... He... he kissed me!'

He was such in a panic over this he hadn't even notice Varric standing there. The dwarf watched Solas frantically pace about, running a hand over his smooth bald head. "What's the matter, Chuckles? What's gotten you all riled up?" Varric called, snapping Solas out of whatever had him.

Solas jumped, startled by Varric's voice ringing in his ears. "Varric!" he tried to calm himself, smoothing his hands over his tunic looking away at anything to his left. He turned his attention back to the rogue, cleared his throat and done his best to gather himself and appear calm. Unfortunately, it didn't fool Varric. "Nothing... Nothing's the matter. What can I do for you?"

Varric gave him a look, as if chastising a child as he waggled a finger at the elf and tsked. "Now, don't you try getting anything passed me." the rogue heaved a sigh and shook his head, placing his hands at his hips. "Can't you elves play nicely?"

Solas gaped for a moment then frowned. "When can anyone get along with a Dalish?" he snapped, "They are so stuck in their ways of following what they do not entirely understand!" he went still, shocked as the words left him.

Varric sighed, looking up to Solas with a gentle, friendly gaze. "I'm not the only one to notice that you both aren't fighting as much like before; working it out. Lavellan does value having you as a friend... you both are just so stubborn."

Te elven mage glanced away, his shoulders slumped as he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll admit... he's different from any Dalish I have met. First to listen to a different voice about their beliefs..." he murmured softly. He jolted when the kiss flitted through his mind. His cheeks burned pink and he shut his eyes, curling his lips in a grimace as he groaned.

Varric's broe furrowed as he eyed Solas, "You all right there?"

"I'm... fine. Just fine. It's nothing." he waved his hand in a shooing motion, wanting to be left alone. Varric heaved a sigh, shaking his head.

"Alright, I get the message. Whatever happened between you two, just... I don't know... don't go at eachothers' throats?" and with that, the rogue left him be.

Solas placed his hands on the desk, gripping at the edges as he leaned over it with his head hung low. With eyes closed, he tried his best not to think about what had happened back up in Lavellan's room. 'Why did he...? I'm not... is he playing with me?' Solas frowned as he shook his head, remembering the look on Lavellan's face. 'Never knew he prefered... or...' the elven mage let out a frustrated sound, knocking books off his desk as he swiped his arm.

"It hurts..." Cole whimper whispered from above. Solas turned, lifting his head up to see the lanky boy sitting on the edge of the wooden scaffolding.

"Cole?" Solas called up to him.

Solas went still as the spirit boy lifted his head, tears in those wide pale blues. Cole lowered his head, back to his usual swaying to and fro as he gently swayed his legs. "The way he looked at me, disgust... horror. I messed up... I shouldn't have. Fear gnawing at the inside, squeezing, constricting all around in darkness. No, no... Won't lose him... Not to--," Solas jolted when Cole appeared in front of him. "He's hurting, Solas... but he won't let me help."

It clicked and Solas fell back into his desk, leaning against it. "You are meaning Lavellan?" the boy nodded his head, grasping both hands at his chest as he whimpered and sniffled. "Were you with him at Adamant, Cole? What happened?"

Nearly a week had went by and no one had seen the Inquisitor leave his room even once. Leliana, occassionally Cassandra, have tried to see him. Leliana rushing out, miffed by something that transpired between them, and Cassandra shutting back and throwing back whatever had been thrown at her. A fuming Seeker meant Hell for everyone else that crossed her war path towards the practice dummies. A couple of times, Varric even tried coaxing their Dalish friend to at least eat something... and lay off whatever he had left of his clan's brew.

Solas worked silently at another fresco depicting Adamant, or what decision had taken place from what he has heard from Iron Bull and Dorian. He noticed the two were also shaken up, but not as badly the Dalish hunter was. The elven mage set down his brush and sighed, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back. He then stared up towards the spiraling ceiling and the floor of the library in thought. He caught sight of Dorian leaning forward against the bannister, appearing crestfallen.

He set the rest of his tools down and twisted around, still looking up towards the Tevinter mage. "Dorian," he called up and the Tevinter mage looked down.

"Ah, hello, Solas." Dorian called back, not as cheerful as he usually was. "What can I do for you?"

The elven mage stood up, brushing his hands off. "May I come up to speak with you?"

Dorian cocked a brow and waved his hand, gesturing towards the whole floor of the library. "It's an open library, no?" he jested.

Solas' lips quirked slight and he gave a nod. "Ah, yes, of course. How silly of me." the elven mage made his way up the spiral staircase and met with Dorian in his usual nook of the library. The Tevinter mage sat down in the chair and Solas leaned up against the windowframe. "I wanted to ask you-"

"About what happened at Adamant, I pressume?" Dorian questioned calmly.

Solas blinked, gave a nod of his head and cleared his throat. "If it is not too much trouble to ask... from what I have heard bits and pieves of, it wasn't a pleasant fight."

"It was far worse in the Fade," Dorian admitted, fighting back a grimace. "Didn't help much with a Fear demon prodding at us while trying to get back into our physical world. It..." Dorian lookes down at his hands sorrowfully. "It took a huge blow to the Inquisitor. None of us know what the Fear demon had said or shown him, but," the Tevinter mage sighed, giving a shake of his head. "Whatever it was it took its toll... he hasn't been the same since. On the journey home, he completely avoided everyone, jumped at every little noise, every shadow... Almost slit my throat once." Solas winced, understanding that the two were rather close friends. To have a friend nearly kill you though.. "I understood he wasn't trying to kill me, I just took him by surprise..."

"Could you... Do you think you can talk to him, Solas?" Dorian asked, snapping Solas out of thought.

The elven mage stared at him in disbelief. "I beg pardon?" did he hear Dorian right?

The Tevinter mage shifted in his seat, looking directly at him. "None of us know what the Fear demon said to him because it was in elvhen."

Solas' brow furrowed, shifting his weight as he leaned away from the window. "Do you remember what was said?" Dorian looked away as he thought hard on what words were said. He snapped his fingers as his expression brightened when he remembered.

"I believe it was, 'Fen'Harel din'an sahlin, Fen'Elgar. Dirthara nadas." Dorian's face scrunched, having tried his best not to butcher the elvhen tongue. "What we did understand is that Fen'Harel stands for-- Solas, are you all right there?"

The elven mage wasn't all right, his body rigid and all color drained from his face. Solas pushed off the window, his footing a bit unsteady. He smoothed a shaky hand over his head. "M-Ma serranas, Dorian. I need to go.." the elven mage left quickly, his gait stiff as he made his way down the stairs.

Those words Dorian recited to Solas on what was said to Lavellan in the Fade.

'Dread Wolf's time will come, Spirit Wolf. Death is inevitable.'