A/N: Confession: I've been looking forward to this chapter for a very long time. So excited to share!

Lathbora viran: (from the Dragon Age Wiki) Roughly translated as "the path to a place of lost love," a longing for a thing one can never really know

Chapter inspiration: Devil's Side (Foxes)


Lathbora viran

Quietly as possible, the servant Gianna placed a fresh log in the library fireplace and draped a warm blanket over their long-term guest. Dorian had raced from the house hours ago after the terrifying explosion from the direction of the Archon's mansion; a worried Inara had waited for him for as long as she could. They hadn't exactly parted on best of terms, the maid recalled. As tensions grew and matters with the Dread Wolf escalated, Dorian became increasingly concerned for his friend's wellbeing – while she became more impatient, determined, and even reckless.

Before departing, Gianna dared to linger for a moment to look at the elf for whom she had come to grow so fond. The head of the household had always been selective in his choice of company, but this one was special. She had an indomitable heart, a natural grace, and an admirable loyalty to those she loved, but she always seemed to carry the burden of a thousand worlds. And tonight, she just looked…so peaceful. For once.

Master Pavus had mentioned wards around Lady Lavellan's room that kept her safe and allowed respite from her night terrors for the rest of the household. But one night couldn't hurt, yes? She did need the rest, after all. With a decisive sniff, Gianna closed the door behind her with a subtle click, leaving Suledin alone in her slumber.


Inara unconsciously ran her fingers through her thick waist-length hair, idly noting how the setting sun caught the hidden flecks of gold amid her red tresses. She leaned against the balcony doorway, eyes habitually scanning the horizon for anything that might threaten the people under her care, yet all remained quiet. Peace again in her Skyhold tower – ever the home she returned to in her dreams. It was also a more private location for certain rendezvous.

"You seem troubled, vhenan." Troubled indeed. His arms enfolded her waist from behind. When she didn't respond to his comment, Solas drew her hair over her right shoulder and gently kissed her bare neck, still holding her close with his free arm. Without thinking, the woman leaned into his grasp as a sigh escaped her lips. "Allow me to ease your burden."

I wish it could, vhenan.

Her mission was not supposed to lead her here. She made Captain Fabria swear to take her along to face the Dread Wolf. She was so close to meeting her beloved in person for the first time since that fateful day at the Crossroads. She was terrified of what she might find – perhaps some twisted, corrupt shadow of a man beyond redemption. But this… This was all she wanted.

Lavellan sighed again, this time in resignation of what must be done. Dorian was right; every day put her in more danger of being killed or possessed or enthralled.

"Why have you helped me?" she dared ask. His breath continued to tickle her neck, but his heartbeat quickened at her words.

"How could I not?"

Inara drove some semblance of strength into her voice and pushed herself out of the comfort of those arms to face Solas. The soft cotton shirt hanging from his shoulders fluttered in the cool mountain breeze, bringing attention to his bare chest while he leaned invitingly against the balcony doorway. She attempted not to stare, forcing herself to look the man in the eyes – those wise, unknowable, beautiful eyes.

"You're not really him, are you?"

Brow furrowed and wounded by her words, he pivoted and retreated into the room. Heat from the roaring fire stung Inara's cheeks as she crossed the threshold to follow him out of the chilled highland breeze. Fen'Harel's back remained turned to her while he wandered to the desk and leaned his fingertips against the cluttered surface to balance himself. His back quivered with tension. A pang of guilt and regret coursed through Suledin's veins, but she forced herself not to recant. The fantasy could not go on, not with so much at stake.

Though the moments ticked by with agonizing stillness, accompanied only by the distant wind and the crackling fireplace, he broke the tension with a heavy breath.

With back still turned, he asked with a regretful, even tone,

"What gave me away?"

Inara faltered and nearly choked on the terrible truth of her own words.

"You're here."

A light chuckle, a familiar chuckle, passed his lips.

"I will have to keep that in mind."

"Desire, I presume? I pictured such a demon as more forward with its intentions, but you have played the role."

He turned, and Inara's breath hitched. Solas was still there, but his eyes had transformed – silvery, catlike, with purple vapor wafting from the corners. He took a few steps toward her, while her feet seemed rooted in place.

"I could kill you, you know," he stated casually, voice ever so slightly warped. "T'would be fitting in this form, to see the light drain from your eyes and crush your ceaseless meddling in what was never meant for you. Or perhaps I would even take possession of your body. I'm sure there is plenty to hold my interest in Tevinter."

The demon was within reach when Lavellan finally found use for her lungs again. It was not fear, nor anger, nor helplessness that anchored her feet; rather, curiosity and determination.

"Why don't you?"

"I am no normal demon. This encounter has meant more to me than preying on your desire. And more than simple temptation." He paused with an amused smirk. "I believe you once met one of my kin. The Evanuris are more our enemies than they ever will be yours."

Inara scanned the books and loose manuscripts lining the space behind the mirage, thinking of her hours of painstaking research.

"The Forgotten Ones," she whispered.

"The prison of the Evanuris and the locks that bind it are weakening, ready to fall. In turn, the barriers holding my people are also failing."

"So, when the Evanuris are freed…"

"We too will be free." Seemingly confident that the woman wasn't preparing to flee, the spirit began pacing in thought. "There have always been cracks and fluctuations in the Veil that allow one or two of us to slip our chains; but your lover's plan will ultimately obliterate it."

"That still does not answer my question." The Herald's hardening voice seemed to impress him, halting his steps and earning an approving smile as he granted his full attention. "Why have you helped me? Why entertain this charade and not attempt to cross over?"

"I'm sure I will have plenty opportunity in the near future," Solas laughed before sobering and folding his arms. "I may yet have use for you. When the Old Gods are reborn and see what the world has become, who is it they will rain their wrath upon? They have spent a millennium trapped in their own nightmares. They will strike enemies both old and new – whoever can shoulder the blame for their suffering. Fen'Harel likely has safeguards in place to protect himself, so who do you think will be their next targets? Perhaps my people – ancient foes, corrupted and without purpose. Perhaps your people – the meddling upstarts that should never have existed, except perhaps to serve in bondage."

"You're scared," noted Inara quietly, uncertain if the declaration would anger the spirit; yet he merely nodded.

"Besides…even I am not foolish enough to risk the wrath of an ancient who could crush me with a mere thought at his most powerful."

"Is he?" His eyes narrowed at the sharpness of her tone. It was the Herald's turn to pace. "He awoke weak before. His Orb is gone. Another being could not unlock it without risking annihilation. So. Has he really become so powerful? And at what cost? What version of Solas will I one day face – the god, the rebel, or the man? Or perhaps something new."

Desire's smile twisted with unexpected sadness.

"Would you give your life to save him from his shame – his pride?"

As if on cue, the Anchor flared to life with a shooting electrical pulse up her arm. Inara hissed and nearly lost her footing while the pain radiated throughout the rest of her body.

"I believe I have already answered that more than once," she growled through gritted teeth, forcing her back to straighten despite the continued aching waves. Solas watched her warily.

It was happening more often lately.

"The Anchor is permanent. You have spoilt it with your stumbling."

The pain once reserved for the physical Mark years ago had manifested here…and had she imagined feeling it in the physical world only this evening?

"It is part of you now, and cannot be removed without your death."

Was it only because she had pursued her abilities as a somniari and reinforcing her connection to the Fade? Or would it have returned regardless?

"The mark will eventually kill you. Drawing you here gave me the chance to save you, at least for now."

Inara didn't realize that she was trembling until Desire took her twitching hand and held it firmly between his palms. For a moment, at least, the pain subsided, and she was able to think clearly.

"The magic never left you," he offered, massaging her stinging palm with his thumbs. "T'was only hidden and slowed for your own protection. Your conviction is inspiring. Just remember that there is more to the coming world than simple spirits and magic – it is a collision of two planes that evolved in their own time and were never intended to coexist. No one can know what will truly come to pass, but you have a unique gift to perhaps help shape it."

"How?" She pulled away again. "The Mark is gone."

"But not your connection to the Fade – to magic. Recall the mirrors, how you have used them to pass between Dreams and view the physical world from this one."

"I see…"

"I beg you to remember that not all of my people are mindless monsters – not in the way you imagine." Hesitantly, the spirit brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. A chill ran down the elf's spine as she resisted leaning into his caress. Even without actively attempting to seduce her, Desire's mere nature was toxic and alluring. "Goodbye, vhenan. For now. Hopefully, we may meet again as allies in the next world."

Lavellan couldn't help but be disappointed when he stepped back and turned toward the stairs. This Solas wanted her; he was predictable in his wishes and movements. The real Solas… Would she even recognize the man she loved?

"Will I know him?" The spirit's steps faltered. "In your curiosity, you studied Solas, didn't you? Will I know him?"

Desire opened his mouth to answer, then closed it with a frown. Eventually, however, his features softened to an almost apologetic smirk.

"You know his heart. You know the man he was meant to be."