A/N: Thank you for the continued interest! I had quite a bit of fun with this section. Please enjoy!
Chapter inspiration: We Have It All (Pim Stones) – yet another song where I can't NOT think of Solas. Ah, the joy Solavellan Hell.
There was fire around us so I should have known why
The touch of his hands were as cold as his eyes
So don't you tell me we weren't hypnotized
The print was so small I didn't understand
He cut our thumbs and placed a feather in our hands
Told us we would see all our dreams and plans unfold
Shelter in Storm: Part 1
Fen'Harel had complete control in the Fade. It was alive and enigmatic and familiar. Here, he had power and an understanding of the world around him. The new Thedas could never compare to its elegant form and purpose and beauty. The world had become a tapestry painted over the graveyard of his home.
So, why did his passions and regrets seem to constantly remind him of this abomination of a reality, the society that only existed because of his recklessness? Why did he find himself standing on her balcony, with the setting sun spilling its rays upon the picturesque mountains and the ancient buttresses of Skyhold in its current shambles?
Perhaps it was because he had lingered so long in the halls of the grand fortress, as of late. Perhaps it was because this was a home that was connected to both his old life and the new. Perhaps it was an echo of the spirit of Regret that had been formed here by his own pain and later defeated by the remnants of the Inquisition.
He could change it. He could shape the reality around him, or step into another Dream, or even seek out and interrogate the spirit that had latched onto this memory. Yet Solas found himself with no such desire. He breathed in the crisp mountain air, feeling his heartbeat slow in his begrudging contentment.
"So, what does this mean, Solas?"
This was a moment that held great sorrow, yes; but it also was a moment of…perfection. The world of shadows and puppets had become so clear in her radiant presence. The stagnant echoes of a dead nation came to life under her gaze. Her gentle eyes and ardent spirit stirred a youthful excitement within him. With Inara Lavellan at his side, he could almost forget that he was the Dread Wolf, doomed to face death alone and earn the hatred of an entire generation of peoples…those who survived. He could just be Solas, the wandering elf mage who held the heart of the most magnificent, graceful spirit in all creation.
He didn't want it to stop. He wanted to lose himself in this memory, just for a moment, and pretend that it was all that mattered. Vhenan.
"It means I have not forgotten the kiss."
His words hung in the air, waiting to be rejected or embraced by the woman who insisted on stealing his heart, though he had tried to hold back. It had been months since their romantic sojourn into the Fade. Did she still want him? Part of him hoped not; it would make his mission so much easier…but he was helpless in her company, unable to turn away and pretend she did not utterly enthrall his attention.
"Good."
A flutter of exhilaration welled up within his chest at that single word. With flawless poise, the Inquisitor stepped directly in front of the mage, never breaking away her gaze. She leaned toward him, a mere breath away, clasped her hands behind her back, and waited. Teasingly. Invitingly. Relinquishing power and leaving herself open to him, yet wielding that same power merely by her irresistible presence. Her eyes danced with mischief, taunting him with something she knew he wanted more than anything.
And he remembered. He was the Dread Wolf. She was innocent, noble, and worthier of respect than any of the Evanuris he had locked away. And he knew he would only break her heart. So, he resisted. He turned away. But the instant her hand touched his arm with a feather-like plea, he stood powerless and vulnerable.
"Don't go."
"It would be kinder in the long run." The Dread Wolf fought it, hoping that he could control his own emotions if he averted his gaze. He chastised himself a hundred times over. He needed to run far, far away from this. He tried to remember his purpose and his fate, but she had changed everything. He couldn't run or resist. After a millennium of loneliness, he couldn't imagine living without her. "But losing you would…"
He gave in. He pulled her into his embrace, kissing her with a passion he had only ever shown in the Fade. It was real. It was all real. And beautiful. And he would destroy it.
"Ar lath ma, vhenan."
As he turned away, the reality of the Fade broke through the memory. Her voice pulled him back. Instead of the pleasant, dreamy expression from that day on the balcony, Lavellan sounded exhausted and pleading. And he remembered again…this was but a Dream.
"Solas."
"What do you want of me, spirit?"
He turned to study her, curious what sort of entity he faced – a spirit of Desire? Regret? Curiosity? – but Inara remained. There was no façade to see beyond, only Suledin. Only the woman who had earned the whispered admiration of even his own followers.
"I want you to know you are not alone."
Before Solas could respond, a thunderous roar escaped from the frost-tipped mountains. A seeming avalanche cascaded over the distant peaks, covering the distance in mere seconds. Neither of the somniari turned to flee, but they watched as their romantic view transformed into a freezing wasteland. Once the avalanche settled, the pale earth was level with the balcony, and Skyhold seemed to have melted away into nothingness beyond the storm.
Only after the Fade had finished its grand renovation did the man return his attention to Inara. She was still there. So…not just a fragment of the memory. Either a spirit or…did he dare guess? Either way, this was no longer his own musing. It was a Nightmare.
"I am not a monster," his own disembodied voice echoed through the maelstrom. "I am not like Corypheus." Through the icy gale, he could vaguely see jagged pillars of red lyrium break through the frozen ground, shaking the earth beneath their feet. "I take no joy in what I must do."
Seven sets of six eyes in the shape of a Pride demon glowed before them, filling Solas with a familiar anxiety; a howl gave away their lupine form. An itching, hot pain seared through his limbs; and when he looked down, his veins were pulsing with a demonic crimson smolder. What sort of creature controlled this place?
The sound of metal returned his attention again to the woman at his side. Lavellan, now in full battle armor, with his own jawbone pendant hanging from her neck, twirled two electrical green daggers in her hands.
"You will not have him!" she roared, charging into the storm toward the eyes. Solas blinked, thinking he imagined a shower of emerald sparks shooting from her hand before both rogue and wolves were swallowed by the storm.
The man hissed in pain as a sliver of red crystal materialized and burrowed its way from his wrist bone to emerge through his flesh. He could feel more fragments forming in its wake from his shoulders to the soles of his feet. It was time to leave, while reality and rational thought still meant something. Whatever demon had hold over this place, he was not in the right state to face it on equal terms. Checking to ensure no spirits would attempt to follow, Fen'Harel summoned a rift with a mere thought and passed through the Veil.
Collapsing onto the cold, empty stones of his ancient quarters, Fen'Harel immediately examined his limbs to confirm that no agonizing shards of lyrium were trying to emerge from his skin. He touched his unmarred wrist to reassure himself, noting that the red in his veins was still deepening. No going back.
With a heavy sigh of mixed disappointment and relief, Solas sank onto the luxurious fourposter bed to the sounds of his fire and the whistling breeze beyond the windowpanes. She had seemed so real this time. Not a spirit. Just…her reaching through a shared memory – her touch, her scent, her very being. Feynriel had said her abilities were growing. His body tensed at the cold realization. It had not been his memory, nor his nightmare; it was hers.
His vhenan had been there with him in the Fade. She had sprinted off alone to face the monsters of an undiscovered horror. And he had left her there.
"Melana en athim las enaste." Now let humility grant favor.
All my life I've been heading for hell
But never had I thought I'd drag you down as well
I just couldn't resist what he was trying to sell
There's glory ahead but our love will be forgotten
If my heart was still mine I would go to the bottom
And apologize to you until the day it went rotten
