A/N: Heads up! A little spice. ;)

Chapter inspiration: Heat and Dark (Luca Fogale)


For what it's worth,
There's nowhere else that I belong,
Dust and earth,
Feeling weak where I felt strong.
And all these days,
I spend my second foolishly,
For through my gaze
There's only so much I can see.

So here we are
Though I can barely tell at all,
In heat and dark
Lying low where I stood tall.


Hunter's Hands

Over a week had passed since Inara's return from her last venture with the Bull, Morrigan, and Captain Fabria. Dorian was sure to spend time with her after his magisterial duties were complete each day. They had finished reading Wolfbite and sent a full review to Varric by raven. The former Inquisitor seemed to enjoy the contents of her friend's latest best-seller, yet its ending didn't quite seem to enchant her. In the book, the beautiful Dalish hunter transformed into a halla and frolicked into a nameless forest to be with her mysterious god, who had passed his divine burdens to another so that he could join his beloved. Romantic, yet clearly not to her satisfaction.

Lavellan spent her waking hours researching myths and magic related to the Black City and the Evanuris and various ancient magics. She wandered the countryside with Bull, discoursed with Dorian, and trained with Zevran in the barracks yard, cheered on by the five guards left to her by Leliana. At night, she disappeared into the world of Dreams.

Dorian knew how confident she was in her abilities – she declared only yesterday that she was close to releasing Hawke from the Fade. But he had to wonder… Was she really thinking clearly? Was she about to release her ensnared ally? Or was she being seduced by a demon that was using her to join the physical world? If she succeeded in opening a rift from the other side through her Dreams, would it be the Champion who emerged, or a flaming monstrosity? Or would she be the monster?

The sleepless magister considered these things – along with his own fearful endeavors against Dread Wolves, Qunari, rebellions, and corruption – all the while standing silently in the second-floor hallway of his home. He placed a hand against the door of the slumbering Herald's chamber, willing her a peaceful rest, yet knowing such a thing no longer existed for his sweet soulmate. Dreamless sleep did not exist in her little world; only temptation and longing and desperation.

The wards placed around Inara's room prevented Dorian from sensing or hearing whether she was enduring a nightmare – as she had requested. But tonight… Tonight was for his own peace of mind. With a heavy sigh, he added one final arcane protection to the door to guard against possession.

"I'm sorry I cannot stand beside you in this trial, sweet girl. But I am here. Always."


Inara vaguely stared at the glowing emerald Mark on her left hand, rubbing her fingers together and trying to remember if this was how it felt toward the end – the ache, the cold tingling, the flashes of nausea.

Solas had been teaching her how to take even more control over her Dreams. She could shape this place at her whim. With effort, she could glimpse the waking world, using a conjured eluvian to focus her power. And power it was. The physical Anchor may have been taken, but she knew now that it had changed her. It gave her hope, but she could never admit how much the idea terrified her. Solas had taken her arm to save her life; the power of the Anchor was eating away at her, destroying her, killing her. If it wasn't truly gone, had he only bought her time? If that was the case, it seemed a cruel jest. Didn't he know she would spend every waking moment and beyond to follow his trail - either as an enemy or a lover?

"You told me once that the Mark would eventually kill me. I thought it meant the visible Mark…but I was wrong. I'll still die eventually, won't I?"

Inara closed her eyes, balling her hand into a tight fist in an attempt to stifle the sparks of pain shooting through her limb. She rolled onto her side, fleetingly wondering if she could bound away and outrun her fears. But the pain seemed to vanish the moment he pried her fingers open and kissed them.

"There is a chance," Solas hummed, sitting close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. "But I will not allow it."

The woman opened her eyes, briefly taking in her familiar Skyhold quarters against the dim firelight. A thick blanket guarded her slender frame against the chill, leaving an ideal atmosphere of comfort and lethargy. She was keenly aware of the man laying beside her. A rosy tinge graced her cheeks at the sight of his bare, sinewy chest. With his head propped up against his palm, Solas coolly watched her every movement and every glance.

"And how will you do that?" she whispered, nearly losing her train of thought as she caught his warm, musky fragrance – old forest and parchment. Her heart sank a little when she remembered the reality of this place, and how far Fen'Harel truly was. She had lost him…yet here he was. Just a piece. Tonight, it was all she needed. Warmth, comfort, strength where she had none.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan. I am a god, am I not?" the spirit teased, looming but a breath away. Inara closed her eyes again.

A spirit. Not the god. Not Fen'Harel. Not her vhenan. She had to remind herself of this, yet the journey seemed so fruitless. She had hoped her dealings in the Fade would draw him closer; maybe he would sense the threat; or maybe she would at least grow stronger. Yet he was nowhere to be found. Would it be so selfish to just pretend for one night that what they had was real…right here and now?

Inara felt his powerful fingers caress her cheek. The caress continued along her neck, down her arm, and past her waist. She shivered as he pulled her close. Her hand ran along his back, memorizing the pattern of his muscles.

Suledin's heart leapt in her chest with a flurry of emotions as his scent, his skin, his breath pervaded her senses. Nothing mattered but the Dream. Nothing mattered but her Desire.

Or was this a dream at all? Would she ever wake up? She found herself unable to care.

A wave of mental exhaustion from her interminable search suddenly overwhelmed the broken elf. She had fought so hard and so long with no hope on the horizon. Varric's book and its ridiculously happy ending only made the very idea of finding Solas at least welcoming to her…impossible. She knew how lonely the immortal felt, and the very idea broke her heart.

The few tears that crept from her eyes gave her companion pause. He brushed her cheek with tender concern.

"You have carried this burden for far too long, my love."

"I cannot bear to think of you alone," Inara breathed, suddenly afraid that he would disappear at any moment. But Solas pulled her against him with a low growl.

"What's the old Dalish curse? May the Dread Wolf take you?"


Inara Lavellan awoke in the cold chambers of House Pavus, alone. She pulled the covers tight and took several deep breaths as she attempted to compose herself and return to reality. Reality was not kind.

She cried when she remembered her Dreams, and the false hope she had allowed for herself. She cried at how helpless she felt. She cried when she remembered that it had been two long years since Solas had walked away from her to follow the Din'anshiral alone. And she cried while holding onto the jawbone pendant that had been placed on her nightstand. Every step was a taunting tease, always keeping him out of reach. Even if she found him, it was likely that one of them would not survive the encounter.

Finally rolling out of bed, the woman attempted to stem the puffiness of her eyes with cold water from her bedside pitcher. Her amputated arm itched as it remembered that it was no longer whole. Reality slowly sank back into place.

The Herald was not some weak damsel. She had power and knowledge, and she was determined to use it. Finding Fen'Harel was not simply a matter of luring him in the Fade. There was a campaign afoot to find him, and find him she would…even if it meant death. The world was trembling in fear, and she had been asleep to it for far too long. The Dread Wolf was rising, and her part was not yet over. She could not allow some demon to convince her otherwise, and she could not allow Tevinter's new hero the chance to solely decide her beloved's fate.

Inara spotted the servant Gianna passing by her door as she cracked it open.

"Gianna, I would like to send word to Captain Gideon Fabria, requesting his presence for an audience."

"Of course, m'Lady," the girl blinked at her charge, not commenting on the somniari's haggard state. "I believe he is on a campaign to the East at the moment, but I'm sure he would be happy to attend upon his return."

Closing the door and turning to her wardrobe, the woman paused to fiddle with the jawbone yet again.

"However this may end, you will not walk this road alone...Fen'Harel, ma vhenan."