Chapter 11: Breaking

Nearly a year passed after Lavellan had made a full recovery. The two of them kept their relationship private, their own personal solace in the ongoing fight to stop the forces moving against them. Not that their companions were unaware of the situation, but Lavellan requested that they not pry into their personal affairs and somehow even Sera managed to limit her comments to only brief moments every now and again.

It was not often that they managed to slip away from their responsibilities for some quiet time alone, but when they did, they both cherished the moment. After the Temple of Mythal, she told him she would use the power of The Well of Sorrows to help undo the damage that had been done, to restore what was lost, and preserve the true histories lost to time. She continued to fill him with hope.

That was the reason he brought her here to this private space. Leafy ferns and thick moss clung to the rocky crags surrounding them. A small waterfall trickled down the rocks into a shallow pool. He breathed in the air deeply, enjoying the spiritual energy of the place.

"The Veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?" he asked.

She smiled and closed her eyes, delighting in the sensation and nodded.

He could not help but gaze at her with wonder. She was… completely unexpected. "I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me," he said, stepping closer to her.

Her smile widened and she stepped closer to him as well, looking up at him in adoration. "I'm listening. And I can offer a few suggestions," she teased, glancing briefly at his lips.

"I shall bear that in mind," he returned, tempted to toss away what he had planned to say and take her instead. With considerable effort, he pushed that thought aside and summoned the words he wanted to share with her. "For now, the best gift I can offer is… the truth. You are unique. In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me. More important than I could have imagined."

The warmth from her smile touched his heart. "As you are to me."

An all too familiar lump formed in his throat. "Then I must tell you… The truth…" he tried to find the words. But what could he possibly say to her that would convince her the world she knew was wrong? That the world she could have, the world he could give her, was entirely different from what she understood of their history? No, he could not reveal all, he decided. He would start small. "Your face. The vallaslin. In my journeys in the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean."

She tilted her head, curiously. It was not something she often thought about and her hand went briefly to the markings she had chosen at her right of passage ceremony. "They honor the elven gods."

His eyes grew somber and he shook his head. "No. They are slave markings. Or at least, they were in the time of ancient Arlathan."

She withdrew her hand as if burned by the markings, shaking her head. "My clan's Keeper said they honored the gods. These are their symbols."

"Yes. That's right. A noble would mark his slaves to honor the god he worshipped. After Arlathan fell, the Dalish forgot."

Her face fell and she recoiled. "So this is… what? Just one more thing the Dalish got wrong?" she gasped, remembering the pride with which she felt when she earned her vallaslin and feeling sickened at the thought of celebrating her own people's enslavement.

"I'm sorry," he said. For there were no other words of comfort he could offer.

She held her arms close to her body, trying to repress the sadness and revulsion roiling within her stomach. "We try to preserve our culture, and this is what we keep? Relics of a time when we were no better than Tevinter?"

He stepped forward. "Don't say that. For all they got wrong, the Dalish did one thing right. They made you." Though his kindness was appreciated, he knew it was not enough to undo the pain she must be feeling. "I didn't tell you this to hurt you. If you like, I know a spell… I can remove the vallaslin."

She thought about it, about what all of it meant. "If what you're saying is true…"

"It is."

"Then… my people vowed never to submit to slavery."

"I am so sorry for causing you pain. It was selfish of me. I look at you and I see what you truly are… And you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent."

She chewed on her lip, trying to think clearly as memories of the faces she loved flashed before her eyes. In her life as a Dalish elf, it represented choice and agency and dedication to one's clan and heritage. But to know it was based on a lie, when in reality the vallaslin had been forced upon her ancestors against their will to mark them as slaves… she could not bear the thought that even unknowingly, she had dishonored their memory and herself in this way.

"Then cast your spell. Take the vallaslin away," she said, her heart heavy.

Solas gestured beside the pool. "Sit."

She obeyed and he placed his hands on either side of her face. A tingling, warm glow washed over her skin as she closed her eyes, wondering for a brief moment if she was sacrificing any chance of ever returning to her own clan by choosing this.

"Ar lasa mala revas. You are free."

She opened her eyes and glanced into the water of the pool at her reflection. She knew it was her own face, but without the vallaslin she felt like something else was now lost to her, though what it was specifically, she could not name. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the man she loved and felt the pain of that unnameable loss ease.

He gazed at her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world. "You are so beautiful," he said, admiring her face without the marks.

He cupped her cheek and she leaned into his touch. His lips found hers and her heart fluttered in her chest as he drew her close, slipping his hands down over her backside and holding her like she was the most precious thing in his life.

Because she was. In this pale imitation of what the world was, she was all that mattered to him. So he clung to her, savoring her kiss as if it were life itself as the familiar pain returned to him, sharp and cutting: demanding to be felt. It pressed upon him and he held onto her tighter as he felt her slipping away from him as the call of honor and duty forced their way into his heart, eclipsing his love for her. For there was no future, none past this moment with the eve of their final battle on the horizon, where they could be together.

As he had removed the vallaslin from her face, he recalled the faces of all the others before her who had come to him, seeking refuge and escape. All whom he had fought for and failed. The weight of the burden he carried pressed down upon him then, crushing his heart, destroying the blessed bliss of the moment. She looked at him, with such love and trust, but all he gave her were lies and half-truths. It was not fair to her. Just as he had a duty to help the people trapped within the Veil, she had a duty to save Thedas as it was. Another responsibility that was due to his own failings, his own weakness. This could not be. He could not afford to sacrifice his duty to restore the world to rights for one mortal woman, no matter what he felt for her or what she meant to him. If he succeeded, if he tore down the Veil and restored what was lost, perhaps he could save her from the dreadful fate all mortal beings faced. He could feel the power of the anchor calling to him and he knew he alone was the only person who could survive its power. If he distracted her, and himself, from stopping Corypheus and retrieving the orb, there could be no future for her or for his people. No, it would have to be done. There was no other choice. He needed to harden his heart and do what was necessary. No matter what it cost him. He must sacrifice his love to save her, to save all.

He pulled away, breaking the kiss and his heart along with it. He did his best to hide his torment as he looked into the face of his beloved and said the words he had dreaded above all others. "And I am sorry. I distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again."

And he was forced to watch her heart shatter before his eyes. There was no other way to describe the way her face fell, chest caving in as if all of her trust and faith in him imploded. He stepped back, trying to force a distance between them that he did not want, because he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss away the hurt, but he could not. He had to do this. He had to let her go.

But her body would not let him go so easily. For every step he took back, she stepped forward, like the gravity of their love, their connection, could not bear the distance between them. "Solas…" She tried to speak, and in his name alone he heard the heartbreak, felt another crushing blow to his spirit as she looked at him with eyes that did not understand why he was pulling away from what they had.

"Please, vhenan," he begged, holding up his hands in a desperate gesture to keep her away, lest he give in, lest he relent and lose himself entirely.

"Solas…" she stepped forward again, not understanding why he kept trying to pull away from her. He loved her. She knew that he loved her. So why, then, after all that they had been through, was he leaving her alone with the possibility of death on the horizon? "Don't leave me, not now. I love you," she gasped, feeling the burn of tears in her eyes and hating the weakness in her voice. Her throat constricted, choking her with an invisible hand.

"You have a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world…" he broke off, shaking his head, hating himself, wishing it could be otherwise.

His words broke her heart still further, when she did not think there were still pieces big enough to break. She had lost him already in Redcliffe. Had watched him die for her. Had felt herself utterly destroyed at the loss. "Why not this one?" Her voice was strained as she tried to hold back the tears that threatened to unravel her.

Solas backed away, shaking his head. He wanted to make her understand. He wanted her to know that he had to do this, not that he wanted to do it. He had to go on. He had to fix this world. He had to make things right. "I can't," he told her, for that was all he had to give.

And the devastation of his words stole the very air from her lungs.

He could bear no more. He could not endure making her suffer. "I'm sorry," he whispered, turning away, bearing the weight of loss upon his shoulders as he tore himself away from the one he loved most.

She watched as he turned his back on her and left her there alone, her heart in ruin.