Prompt: The night is dark and full of terrors

Some Solavellan feels.


Solas walked into the moonlit courtyard of Skyhold with a disappointed sigh. The herbs he'd gone hunting for had proven illusive. So many refugees had been pouring into Skyhold lately that the usual places —the old places—that the plants might have grown where either trampled over or nipped to stubs by wandering graze animals. He'd have to bargain with the merchant, see if he couldn't convince her to order some in...

Solas paused at the apex of the stairwell that led into the main hall, blinking stupidly at the Inquisitor, who was sitting, bare-footed on the little landing in front of him. On the exact spot she'd taken the inquisotorial sword and raised it high above the people, in fact.

"You are out late," he said after a painful moment in which they simply looked at each other. He'd been so absent-minded that his hand had nearly reached out to caress the curve of her ear, but hopefully the darkness hid that motion from her.

Callaia Lavellan shivered under the blanket she'd wrapped around her shoulders. "The night is dark and full of terrors," she murmured.

"I'm sorry?"

"Why didn't you tell me what the Well was?" her voice was tired in the night air.

Solas stilled. "You will remember that I begged you not to drink of it —"

"Yes, but you didn't say why," she snapped, then winced, rubbing her temples. "Sorry... I shouldn't yell. I just... haven't been sleeping well since... since it happened."

Solas lowered himself carefully beside her at an appropriate distance. He didn't like looming over her—too many old, uncomfortable memories of long-dead elves prostrating themselves at his feet in desperate thanks for their freedom.

"I had my suspicions," he said in careful tone. "Perhaps I was too circumspect. I was afraid that Lady Morrigan might force her way to the Well and take it as her own if I revealed too much—I misjudged her, however. Displeased as she was, she did not fight your decision."

"Mythal lives," Callaia said, her voice falling into the space after his words like stones into a pond

Solas held his breath, waiting for her gaze to turn accusatory, waiting for... what? Relief mixed with dread warred for supremacy in his gut. But before he could decide what to say, she spoke again.

"Morrigan's boy went through her eluvian... into the Fade, somehow. She asked for my help in retrieving him and in the Fade, Morrgan's mother showed up... only..." Callaia looked frightened for a moment, hunching her shoulders. He had to clench his fingers in the canvas of his bag to keep from rubbing a hand on her back. "She was both Morrigan's mother and... Mythal. She was able to order me as if I were a... a puppet, like those silly shows in Val Royeaux, and I obeyed without conscious thought. I'm under the geas, Solas."

"Did she... ask you for anything?"

"No, but there was the promise behind her words." She swallowed. "She is not finished with me..."

"Well." Solas paused. "Whoever this Mythal is, even she cannot possibly want Corypheus to achieve his goal. I would venture to guess that you are safe from her until that is taken care of."

"I took it to be closer to you," she said, looking at him with the large, luminescent eyes that had become so common in elves over the past few centuries.

"You... what?" He couldn't hide the surprise that widened his eyes and lifted his brows.

"I've studied the old ways from the time I was a child," she said in a soft voice. "But without breaking a sweat, you tell me in two sentences things you've learned from traveling the Fade that the Dalish have striven to understand over decades of scraping together old stories. I thought... well, I wanted the history of my people. I didn't want to lose it. And then... I thought... once I drink of the Well, I'd finally be able to keep up with you, Solas. We'd be equals." She laughed, her voice breaking at the end. "And then on our way back to Skyhold, when we stopped in Crestwood..." She trailed off, her fingers trailing across her cheekbones where the vallaslin no longer rested.

Solas looked away. To address the events in Crestwood would do neither of them good... and though he was firm in his resolve, he couldn't deny that a large part of him would be tempted anew. He stood, shivering slightly in the cool mountain air.

"You were mistaken," he said softly. "The Well could never make us equals."

She seemed to shrink in upon herself.

"We already were."

Solas bit down on "vhenan" before it escaped his lips. He walked inside, leaving the Inquisitor to her thoughts, and went to his room alone.