Chapter 6: The Problem with Distance

Deciding it was best to give her space, he walked along the ramparts the next morning, taking in the fresh, icy mountain air. He stopped when he noticed another figure across the ramparts, hair shining in the sun, her back to him, staring out at the scenery overlooking the entrance to the fortress. He would have found it amusing if it were not for the pang of guilt that hit him like a blow instead. Clearly in her own desire for space, she too had decided to take a turn about the castle and breathe deeply in the fresh air for her own benefit. Yet in their desire for space, they both had taken the same approach and wound back near each other once more. He was thankful that at least from this angle he could see her and she was far enough away with her back turned that she could not see him. He made to turn around and return the way he had come when he noticed a familiar presence behind him.

"Eyes red, raw, running with tears. Stomach twisted, tormented, tied in knots, confusion, hurt and shame too tangled to separate. She thinks you are ashamed of her. She does not know why you hurt, why it hurts. Love should not hurt like this."

He didn't need to hear this. It was enough to know he had hurt her.

The pale ghostly figure beside him tore his eyes away from Lavellan eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"Now is not the time, Cole."

"She cried all night, bitter, biting tears. But you knew that. You wanted to be her comfort, her solace, but you stayed away. You did not mean to cause the hurt, you love her, but you think that loving her will hurt her. I do not understand. Why do you not go to her when it is what you both want?" His head tilted to the side, haunting eyes searching.

"Cole-"

"-You want to love her, hold her, kiss away the tears, but you do the opposite? You wish to mend the hurt, but you don't, even though you could."

"Please, Cole. I do not wish to discuss it."

Cole's lips pulled into a frown. "You think it is best to spare her pain later by giving her pain now. You think there is no other way. But there is."

"Please, Cole, let it go."

The strange figure gazed at her across the distance. "Light bright, burning, blazing, blinding like the sun. It spreads, creeping, crawling, slowly at first as the light leaks beyond the binding, eating away at it. You know it will not hold forever. You told her so when you met. There is no later. There is only now."

Solas tried to speak, but his throat constricted. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. Surely he would have sensed something. "No," he managed, but Cole had vanished from the spot.

Panic gripped his heart as his body went numb. Surely Cole was wrong. Surely there was still more time. His binding should last several years, but… perhaps Cole was right. Perhaps the anchor's power was growing more unstable every time she used it to close the rifts. Or perhaps he had miscalculated or his magic had been too weak to bind the anchor properly. Was it possible…? Could Cole be right? Was it killing her faster than he had anticipated? Was there so little time left?

Suddenly it all seemed so foolish, thinking about how his actions would impact her future, when it was possible he had already taken away her future by making assumptions in his own arrogance. He had thought he had more time. He had thought he could fix it when he was stronger, when he had the orb back in his possession. All his actions putting her at a distance… when he loved her, he loved her and he wanted to be with her, to be her comfort and her happiness… There was no sense in his actions planning for a future if she wasn't going to have one.

Before he even had time to register his thoughts and make a decision his feet were hurrying along the ramparts toward her. She was on a higher level though and he was moving up the stairs just below when he heard a deep, male voice that clearly did not belong to her.

"Are you alright?" the voice asked. It was Cullen.

Solas slowed, pausing in the corner just out of sight.

"Of course," came her reply, though Solas peered around the corner and saw that even with their backs to him, she had turned her head so that her hair was covering her face.

Cullen leaned against the wall of the ramparts, as if he too were admiring the view. "Forgive me for saying it, but you didn't look alright earlier in the war room when Leliana was giving us her latest report. You looked rather… upset."

"It's nothing, really. Just a bad day."

"I remember when the lyrium withdrawal was getting to me. Those were some bad days for me. But you were there to give me support. And remind me who I was. I'd like to be there for you if there's anything I can do to help." His voice softened and Solas peered around the stone wall again and saw Cullen had moved closer to her, resting his hand on hers.

A swirling snake coiled in Solas's stomach at the sight of his affectionate gesture.

She turned to look at Cullen's hand resting on hers and placed her other on top of it. "You are very kind, Cullen. And I am grateful to have your support. But I think for now I'd just like to be alone with my thoughts."

"Of course," he said compassionately, stepping back as she withdrew her hands and turned away to walk along the ramparts. Cullen watched her go, eyes lingering for a moment before he too turned away to return to his office.

Solas remained seated on the steps, frozen in place. The sight of Cullen's hand on hers filled him with a jealousy and envy that coursed through his veins, burning with self-loathing as it spread. Hadn't he considered that this would happen? It was not as if he was blind to the attraction other people felt for her. He'd even considered it a possibility that she would choose an uncomplicated relationship with Cullen or one of their companions. It was a much better outcome for the Inquisitor to choose a relationship with someone like Cullen. The Lord Commander and ex-Templar human in love with the female elven mage chosen by Andraste: it was practically a fairytale come to life.

Wallowing in his jealousy and self-loathing he turned back and made his way to the library. He still had a mission he had to accomplish. Without the orb, he would have to find another way to stop the anchor's power from spreading.

He found Dorian flipping through a dusty tome in the library and approached him, clearing his throat to make his presence known.

Dorian looked up, clearly somewhat surprised to see it was Solas standing there. "And what brings you up the stairs to the library today, Solas? A sudden interest in the History of Elemental Transmutations? Or perhaps a desire to peruse eleven dry-as-dirt volumes on the biographical accounts of Ferelden court rulings?" Dorian suggested with a wave of his hand at the shelf beside him.

"No, I am here to request your assistance."

"Well it can't possibly be for advice on grooming techniques, seeing as you have nothing to work with," he commented, smoothing his mustache and setting down his tome.

Solas ignored the comment.

"I'm not sure why you're coming to me for advice though. You're far better off going to Sera or Iron Bull for things like that."

Solas raised an eyebrow.

Dorian smirked in response. "I suppose you can ask for my advice, but I assure you it is an area where I have very little expertise."

"I assure you, I do not understand your meaning."

"No? More's the pity for The Lady Inquisitor then. Perhaps that's why she looked so dour at this morning's briefing." Dorian watched him closely for a reaction. "Come, come, Solas, let us not pretend. Your secrets are safe enough back here," he said, wiping a finger through the thick coating of dust on the bookshelf. No one ever came back into this corner of the library, except for him. And typically then it was only because it was dark and quiet and the perfect place to recover from a hangover.

"You are assuming I have an involvement with the Lady Inquisitor. I'm not sure what could have given you that impression, but I assure you my request for assistance-"

"I wonder…" Dorian cut across him, smoothing his hair and fixing him with a look. "If you are the most intelligent person I've ever met, or the most stupid one. Some days it's hard to tell, but then there are moments like this when you are such an appallingly bad liar I wonder if my impression of you is entirely wrong."

"Impressions can often be wrong. Such as your impression that there is anything between myself and the Inquisitor."

Dorian smirked. "You see, I thought the very same thing just a few days ago. I had fallen asleep in my chair across the library, because the rantings of Polnius Gelippides is good for little else than a sleep aid it turns out, when I heard the door below open and close. I peered over the edge and saw you coming back in to your room, which was strange, as you are not one to visit the tavern and come back in the early morning, but perhaps you had only gotten up for a cup of tea or a biscuit. But then imagine my surprise when I spend the next night trying to get through my second attempt at Polnius Gelippides's theories on primordial energy when the same thing happens, only this time you left your room. I got up to stretch my legs and thought I might follow you for a spot of tea as a pick-me-up myself, but when I got to the hall you were not headed towards the kitchen and instead the door at the far end of the throne room was the one that closed. The one leading to The Lady Inquisitor's private room. I was still up with dear Polnius Gelippides when you returned a few hours later. Now, let us not play pretend, Solas. We are not children here. If you are bedding The Lady Inquisitor there is no need to hide it. I will keep your secret, on the honor of House Pavus, if that is what you wish."

"Will you?"

Dorian chuckled. "Of course. Otherwise if word got out I'd have to pay Bull fifty crowns."

Solas was growing more irritated by these revelations of his companions taking bets on his relationship with Lavellan. Had everyone cast their coin on this matter?

"So, if it's advice you're looking for, I will be of little help. Though there are several books on the art of seduction in the section past-"

"I am not here for that. I request your assistance on a matter of magic."

Dorian looked slightly surprised. "Well then I may be able to help you after all. Fire away."

Solas stepped forward, keeping his voice low. "It concerns the anchor marking the Inquisitor. I sealed it myself after the incident at the conclave with wards of my own design. It was only ever a temporary measure to prevent the damage caused by the orb from spreading. I assume that once we have the orb recovered from Corypheus we may be able to find a way to safely reverse the effects or contain the spell once and for all. But time continues to pass and with the continued use of the anchor to close Rifts in the Veil, I suspect the original containment spell's binding may be disintegrating at a faster rate than previously anticipated. If the binding cannot contain the power of the anchor it will spread and… threaten her life."

Dorian nodded, his face serious. "Then we must do all we can. We know so little about Rift magic as it is. Where shall we begin?"

Solas felt the tension ease in his shoulders. "I have some ideas. Let us start there."

And they did, poring over stacks of books and scrolls for the rest of the day and late into the evening.

That night when Solas drifted off to sleep, exhausted from reading old texts, he let his mind drift into the Fade, searching for answers beyond what he could find in the physical world. He was in the midst of perusing different memories when a very real touch gently gripped his wrist and he awoke, blinking up into darkness, a finger pressed to his lips. As his eyes adjusted her beautiful face filled his vision. "I am sorry to disturb your rest, but I couldn't wait any longer. I wanted to apologize for being angry with you. I did not consider at the time that perhaps you had your own reasons for wishing to keep what is between us private. I am sorry for acting as I did." He blinked in confusion. She was there, apologizing to him. Yet she was just in her feelings. He had hurt her and he knew he should be the one to apologize. His lips parted to speak, but she shook her head. "No, please. I am not ready yet. It is too raw. I only came to give my apology, Solas. Sleep well."

And then, because she could not help it, she bent down and kissed his forehead before departing.

He slipped back into the Fade some time after she left, trying to escape the feelings that stirred in his heart at her touch. He wanted to apologize to her. He wanted a way to tell her the truth that would not destroy everything. But he knew that was impossible. At best he could apologize only for his actions as of late and try to mend the bond.

Perhaps if he expressed his concern over the anchor's mark she might join him and Dorian in their pursuit of knowledge. It would be helpful to have another person connected to the Fade to assist. And her own knowledge of magic and experience with the anchor may provide useful insight to resolving the problem. Or maybe he was just searching for excuses to bring her back to him.

A bit of embrium scent lingered in the air and he longed to have her back; to pull her body close to his and kiss her. To hear her whisper "vhenan" in his ear.

It would be better to mend the hurt he had caused. Perhaps Cole was right and he was being senseless. Was it so wrong to seek mutual comfort and affection? Tomorrow he would apologize to her.

The next morning, when he arose, light was already pouring in from the windows of the upper levels. It was later than he typically slept, but his mind had been so preoccupied in search of answers in the Fade that he had lingered there longer than usual. Once he had readied himself, he went off in search of his beloved to apologize for his behavior. He searched the castle for some time, but could not find her in any of the usual places. Finally, when he reached the stables he found Blackwall.

"The Inquisitor? She left."

"She left? Where did she go? When will she return?"

Blackwall shrugged, blowing off a bit of sawdust on the piece of wood he was whittling. "She didn't say where exactly, but they were heading out north of Crestwood, I believe. They left early this morning with mounts and supplies. They didn't say when they'd be back. Apparently there's been some odd reports about Rifts opening up in that area and some disappearances. But don't worry. She took Iron Bull, Sera, and Varric with her. They'll be okay."

Solas nodded, his heart sinking. So that was why she had apologized to him in the middle of the night. She wanted to make amends before she left. And she needed space to process what she was feeling.

"Something else I can help you with?" Blackwall asked in a gruff voice as Solas lingered in the doorway.

"What are you working on?"

Blackwall held up the piece of wood for him to see. "It's not much at the moment, but it should look like that one when I'm done," he said, gesturing over to the table where a small carving of a bear stood, one paw raised. "The Inquisitor sent Vivienne and some ambassadors off to secure resources to rebuild some structure, or something like that. She wants to turn it into some kind of school or orphanage for refugees. Thought that if they're housing kids who are refugees, they won't have much from their old lives. The Inquisitor asked me if I might help make toys for the little ones. To make them feel more at home." He was quiet for a moment, brushing away a few wood shavings. "She's thoughtful like that, the Inquisitor. Others would say it's a waste of resources with a war on, but she sees things others don't. It makes me proud to serve under someone like that."

Solas nodded in agreement, feeling that familiar stirring in his heart for her. "Might I join you in your work sometime? Perhaps I could lend my skills with a brush?" Blackwall looked up at him, eyebrows drawn together, but nodded. "'Course you can. Help yourself to whatever you need in the workshop."

"I'll return this evening then."

"Alright," Blackwall said, watching him as he turned to go.

Solas spent the rest of the day working with Dorian on research. There were promising conversations about blood magic theories that Dorian brought forth, but that in itself posed other concerns due to its nature and the forced interaction with the anchor's magic.

That evening after supper, Solas joined Blackwall. He had brought a satchel of supplies with paints and lacquers. Blackwall nodded in greeting and pointed to the two carvings he had completed already and Solas sat down to work. With only the two pieces finished it didn't long before he had finished and left them to dry, pleased with the final result.

"You've got a good hand for detail," Blackwall praised, coming over to inspect the painted carvings.

"I must give you most of the credit for the quality of the craftsmanship. How many years have you trained at it?"

"Quite a few. My father used to make things with his hands when I was a lad. He taught me most of what I know, but you pick things up as you go." He rubbed his beard and picked up a spare carving knife and a block of wood. "I don't suppose you want to try your hand at it?"

Solas took the carving knife and wood in hand and sat down in the chair beside Blackwall. He rotated the wood in his hands, trying to imagine what he might make. "It has been a long time since I engaged in such activities," he admitted, testing the blade on the edge for sharpness. It peeled back a curl with ease.

"The good thing is, if it's terrible it can still be used as kindling."

Solas grinned and studied the piece for a while longer before deciding what he would craft.

The nice thing about woodworking with Blackwall was that he was a man who appreciated companionable silence. Over the course of the next several days he would spend a good amount of time researching with Dorian and working on magical theories and possibilities to help stop the anchor's magic from spreading, but in the evenings he enjoyed the peace and silence of the woodworking.

"Your carving is starting to come along," Blackwall commented one evening as Solas took it up again after finishing a coat of lacquer on the painted toys. "Is it a wolf? Or a dog?"

"A wolf."

"Looks like the one of your elven god, Fen'Harel. I thought he was one of your evil gods though."

"That is the Dalish belief. I do not share their beliefs, however."

Blackwall made a gruff grumbling sound. "Why make it look like that then?"

"On our last mission the Inquisitor and I explored elven ruins. There was a spot in the center of the pavilion with a statue like this overgrown with vines. I believe that is where she wishes to rebuild and settle the refugees. It seemed fitting."

Blackwall scratched his chin. "Hmm. You carve well for someone out of practice. It's a good likeness. How much longer until it's finished?"

"Perhaps another week. It still needs sanding and painting. Then a layer or two of varnish to seal it."

Blackwall nodded and reached over to take a sip of ale from the tankard beside him. "Do you want some? I've got a cask from Orlais that's better than that swill at the tavern." Solas declined and Blackwall shrugged, taking a swig from his tankard. "So tell me, Solas. How does an elf apostate come to be part of the Inquisition?"

"By accident. I was nearby when the explosion at the conclave happened. I wanted to help."

"I know the feeling. I wasn't expecting to be recruited as a Warden from a conversation in a tavern with a random stranger, and yet it set me on a whole new path. The same is true when I met the Inquisitor. She came up as I was training new recruits and then a moment later we were attacked. Must say, I was glad she was there to help. Winning a fight helped bolster the recruits. And fighting alongside the Herald of Andraste is a story that they'll spread to others." He took a long drink. "I'm glad I joined the Inquisition. It's not where I thought I'd end up, but it's made me a better man."

"She is an inspiring leader," Solas commended.

"Aye, that she is. Tough too, for a little wisp like her. I don't know if she was chosen by Andraste or some other force, but I'd follow her into battle any day."

"She doesn't believe she's chosen by some divine force. And you know of the spirit who assumed the form of Divine Justinia in the Fade is the one who helped her. Not a god."

"Well, see that's where my beliefs differ from the rest. They need their divine intervention to be a holy, awe-inspiring force that comes down with thunder and lightning. But I believe the forces at work beyond our reckoning are a bit more subtle."

"Like what?"

"Like when I happened to meet a Warden in a tavern and got to talking with a stranger I might have otherwise ignored. Or when you happened to be in the area at the time when the conclave exploded. I heard from Cassandra that it was a lucky thing you were there to help patch up the Lady Inquisitor and help close The Breach. Maybe it was luck that you were in the right place at the right time. Or maybe there's a god looking out for her. The fact is, we've dealt with forces beyond our reckoning before. Who's to say in the end? If you ask me, I don't know how you can watch her charge into battle and not feel like she was meant to rescue the world."

This phrasing intrigued Solas. "Rescue it? Not conquer?"

Blackwall shook his head with grave solemnity. "No. Not conquer. I've known plenty of men who fashioned themselves as conquerors. Insatiable brutes, the lot of them. Not a redeemable trait between them. She doesn't have that kind of heart. If she did, she would have used the forces at her disposal to raid and plunder villages, take over peaceful cities, and burn down innocents and enemies alike. But she isn't like that. No, she sees a broken village and uses her forces to rebuild it. Instead of extra mouths to feed she sees children who deserve toys. No. She is not a conqueror. She is fair and just. As all leaders should be, but rarely are."

"You speak of her almost as if she were a savior."

Blackwall cracked a grin. "I do, don't I? Perhaps to me that's what she is. Well, you've known her longer. What do you think of her? What made you decide to stay with the Inquisition?"

"It was the right thing to do. The threat we face impacts us all."

"And the Inquisitor? What do you reckon? Divine intervention or dumb luck?"

"I can't help but marvel at the circumstances. A Dalish elf at the conclave risking her life to save the human Divine and stop a creature seeking godhood? The chance of it seems unlikely at best."

"Or unlucky at worst?"

Solas tilted his head. "I thought you believed it was divine providence that she was the one there?"

"I meant unlucky for her. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong group of people. We were lucky she survived and agreed to help us. Chosen by divine forces or not, we needed her. I've known lesser men and women who would have used that power for their own ends, but she stayed and helped. And it wasn't like it didn't come with a price."

"What price?"

"Take your pick, I suppose. Perhaps everything in the end. Whoever she was and might have been, she's now The Inquisitor, for better or worse: burdened to lead and to save all of Thedas all because she's the one stuck with a glowing hand."

Solas was quiet for a moment as Blackwall took another drink. "I find it hard to believe that she would have sat back and done nothing to help."

Blackwall scratched the back of his neck. "No, I doubt that she would have. But it can't be easy. The Herald of Andraste. Can't imagine the Dalish clan of hers was pleased to hear that."

"She has always retained the belief that she was not chosen by Andraste."

"Still, it must be hard, cut off from her people like she is now."

"What?"

Blackwall blinked in surprise. "You didn't know? She mentioned it once when we were playing a round of Wicked Grace with Varric and Iron Bull. Varric asked if she'd heard from her family back home. Apparently only her father writes to her now. The clan's Keeper or whatever they call it, didn't like the whole 'Herald of Andraste' bit when she heard, I guess. Not staying true to their gods, I suppose. Josephine sent envoys, I think, to try and explain, but things didn't work out so well. Her sister and friends stopped writing after that. I'm not sure on the details, but it sounds like she was excommunicated or something like it. Maybe not completely in case the Dalish decide it's useful, but for now…" He gave a noncommittal shrug and drank again.

A darkness pooled in Solas's heart. She had spoken with affection about her family and defended the ways of the Dalish whenever he voiced his own opinion about their beliefs. Yet for all her defense of them, they turned their backs on her. "The Dalish are more foolish than I give them credit for, then."

Blackwall barked a laugh. "Aye, it doesn't make much sense to me either. Sad though. That's her family. Besides the Inquisition, that is. And what a sorry lot we are," he chuckled again and drank, a rosy hue coloring his cheeks. "Surface dwarves, Qunari, elves, humans, and whatever Cole is…" He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "You know, I'm surprised you've been hanging around with Dorian lately. I thought you disliked the Tevinter mages."

"Dorian is unlike most Tevinter mages, in my experience. But his studies of the arcane are commendable and his knowledge is a valuable resource."

"Ah, I see. So what is it you're working on together?"

"Mostly theoreticals at this point. Some of it is studying the magic of the Rifts so that we are better prepared for encounters in the future. Other times we discuss Corphypheus's possible plans and how to counteract whatever it is he may attempt. And we're also trying to find a way to repair the binding that contains the anchor."

"Anything promising so far?" Blackwall asked politely, feeling quite out of his depths when it came to conversations about magic.

"Potentially. We might be able to perform some experiments if we can recover certain artifacts. Ideally, the best scenario would be to recover the orb in Corypheus's possession and use the original source to reverse the effects. Assuming it is possible to do so."

"And if it doesn't work?"

Solas swallowed. "Then we hope that we can find another way."

Blackwall let out a long, deep sigh, his face growing grave. "That we must. Come, let us not dwell on such thoughts. Tell me the rest of that story from the other night. The one about the warrior maiden and the wyvern."

Solas smiled and gladly pushed the other thoughts from his mind.