Chapter 13: Still Here

~Two years later~

As nice as it was to see her old companions again, Lavellan couldn't help but resent The Winter Palace, for which she had several good reasons.

The first was that more than all the evil in the world, none was quite so terrible as the Orlesian court. Most evil could be destroyed or killed, but Orlesian nobility was nothing more than a hydra: cut off one head, two more will replace it.

The second was that it reminded her of times she would much rather forget. When Sera asked her why she looked so down in the dumps, she admitted it brought back memories of a certain elf.

"Oh, piss on that. You're better off without him, if you ask me. No one wants to be around the grouchy egghead all the time. Besides, when we were here all he did was hide in a corner wearing that stupid hat of his."

This made Lavellan smile. "It was a stupid hat. Ugh, I hated it. I remember wanting to rip it off his head. It made his nose look all funny."

"Yeah, but did you hate it more than Cole's stupid hat? Remember that time I tried to shoot it off his head?"

This was a more pleasant moment that kicked off a delightful dispute over the most atrocious fashion crimes committed by their companions over the years.

The third, however intangible, was the sense that as Lavellan reconnected with her companions, she felt as if they had left her behind in some way. Most of them had their purposes and paths laid out before them, continuing to grow and improve the lives of others and themselves. Even Krem, who never learned to sit in a chair properly, finally made a move on the bard from the tavern. Everyone was changing and she was… stuck… somehow. She couldn't quite put her finger on it until she had a rather strange encounter with Cassandra.

Her usually stiff and rigid friend was acting very peculiar, asking her to sit and fretting over her words.

It was even stranger still when Cassandra told her to do what was in her heart, as she had no idea what Cassandra was referring to at all. It wasn't until she admitted they were talking about marriage that the odd behavior was explained, albeit only in part. Because coming from Cassandra of all people, that wasn't something they normally talked about. Lavellan gave her an odd look, particularly as she hadn't been seeing anyone since… well, since he had broken up with her. When Cassandra noticed her questioning look, she clenched her fists and threatened to kill Varric for tricking her.

This stung, particularly as Varric knew full well she had not taken an interest in anyone in the past two years. It wasn't a secret.

In her irritation, she decided to pull Varric, newly appointed Viscount of Kirkwall, aside for a chat. "So, Varric, what gave you the impression that I was going to propose an offer of marriage to someone?"

"What? I never said anything like-Oh…" he shifted his weight and rubbed the back of his neck. "Er, I'm guessing you talked to Cassandra."

She crossed her arms. "Yes, and I don't quite see what gave you the impression I would be getting married anytime soon."

He winced at the tone in her voice. "Well, you see, I think she might have gotten the wrong idea. I was playing a round of Wicked Grace with Josie the other night and I think she'd had a long day dealing with those ambassadors from Orlais and Ferelden. She might've said something along the lines of 'it would be so much easier if we could solve these issues through marriage.' When I asked her what she meant, she sort of indicated that things might lean more in the Inquisition's favor if you seduced or married one of them." He cringed under the scathing look of disapproval she gave him. "Not that I agree with her," he said hastily. "But that was when Cassandra showed up and we were having a bit of a laugh and I may have joked that we were discussing your… marriage prospects. Not seriously, but…" He quit while he was ahead as she glowered down at him.

"No, please, tell me which of these stuffed pigeons I should give my hand to?"

"Look, I didn't mean... You know how... Well, look at you, there's not a person here who wouldn't have some interest in marrying you."

"Oh, yes, there's nothing a noble loves more than acquiring assets to expand their wealth and power. I'm sure I'd be a fine addition to any collection. However, I don't enjoy being treated like a brood mare or prize to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. I would hope my friends would treat me better than that."

He flinched and bit his lip apologetically. "Yeah, guess that's pretty bad. Listen, I didn't mean to upset you. We were just having a laugh. Hasn't there been anyone though…? You know, since Chuckles left?" This time he cowered under the look she gave him.

"Has there been anyone since Bianca?"

"Hey, I'm sorry, alright. No need to kick below the belt."

She took a breath and sighed. "Sorry, Varric. I should be used to it by now, but I'm not. I don't really know if I ever will be."

"Yeah, I know how that is."

She sat down beside him and looked over sympathetically. "Does it ever get any easier?"

"Which part, people asking if you've moved on or actually doing it?"

"The latter, I suppose."

He took a long drink from his tankard. "Not sure. I'll let you know if it ever happens." He took another drink and changed tactics. "But don't listen to a bitter surface dwarf with a reputation like mine. You're The Inquisitor. You're gorgeous, smart, funny, good with the magic stuff, and you saved the world. I'm sure you have plenty of suitors lined up outside your door."

"I did have to clock a noble in the face when he did just that one morning not that long ago. Then I got a talking to from Josephine warning me not to do it again, but I'm not sure. I think that might be the only way to get anything done around here," she joked.

"I think Curly might agree with you."

She laughed. "Cullen? Oh yes, he flees from the sight of any noble approaching him. I'm sure he'd much rather fend off those requests for a dance with a sword. He might have better luck."

"It's almost like he's holding out hope that a certain elf might change her mind and ask him to dance."

"Varric…" She gave him a look.

"What? I'm only pointing out the obvious. Curly's had a torch burning for you for a long time now. You could do worse. And it would save you both from fighting off the Orlesians."

She rubbed her chin. "I know he feels something for me. And he certainly is a catch. But I can't, Varric. It wouldn't be right to pursue something with him. He deserves better."

"Better than you? Where do you figure he's going to find someone as good as The Inquisitor? Hm?"

"He deserves someone who can give him what he wants. Someone who can give him her whole heart."

Varric sighed and fiddled with his tankard. "You know, you may find you feel differently if you let yourself try. I know I'm not the model example here, but it may help you move on."

She shook her head. "It wouldn't feel right. Besides, I can't give him the life he wants."

"Eh, why not? Who says you have to stick around and play Inquisitor until you're old and gray?"

"Because we both know I won't make it to be old and gray, Varric." She held out her arm, wiggling the fingers of her left hand. She traced down her arm and pointed to a spot just below her elbow. "My arm had lost all feeling from my fingertips to here. You were right when we first met, Varric: the mark on my hand is killing me. Using the orb to close the Breach the second time weakened the wards. Dorian and Viv have tried their best to help me find solutions, but… nothing. Solas was the only one who understood the anchor. He was convinced that with the orb we could find a way to reverse the effects, but…" She trailed off, not needing to explain the rest.

"Why the heck are you here then? Go, drink and be merry and all that stuff. You shouldn't be here, working yourself to the bone."

"I have to. The Inquisition is strong enough to create real change. We're actually helping so many places rebuild and recuperate now that the Rifts have been sealed. But without support, that might crumble away."

"Well, shit," he said, swallowing some more ale and wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Yeah, well, at least everyone else seems to be doing well. Look at you, Viscount."

He chuckled and folded his arms across his chest. "Eh, someone's got to clean up Kirkwall. Might as well be me. Goodness knows someone else would mess it up."

She smiled at him. "I'm glad they have you."

For weeks the talk stretched on and on to the point where she wanted nothing better than to strangle the representatives from Ferelden and Orlais. She might play The Game well enough to topple assassination attempts and win over most of the court, but that didn't mean she at all enjoyed it, particularly as the men continued to bicker over the affairs from a very… human perspective, despite the fact that the issues facing the countries extended to dwarves, elves, Qunari, and every other person living within the borders.

It was for that reason she almost felt relief when the dead Qunari warrior was found and the hunt inside the eluvians began. With her companions once again at her side, it felt like old times running off on some mission. But the deeper she went into the Crossroads, the more she unraveled about the Qunari plot, and worse… what she found of the history of the elves shook her to her core.

And then there was the matter of her hand. It started out small, just a burst of energy. Though she had lost most feeling in her hand and arm, the anchor's discharge felt like lightning ripping through her nerves. It was excruciating, radiating out through her whole body. By the time she reached the Viddasala, the anchor pulled her into the air and flung her around like a rag doll. It brought back memories of years past she had kept buried. But now, with the pain so ripe she remembered all too well the agony of the Venatori ritual; how the magic had burned through her body in a tidal wave of pain.

Her companions-her friends, all of them worried for her each time it went off. And the fear crept into her heart as well. The time had come: the mark that had promised death, was now making good on that promise. It would not be long now. She knew it, felt it in her bones, yet she rebelled against the thought. She was not done. She still had work to do. So she fought against it, hardening her will, refusing to let it stop her. Determined to put a stop to the Viddasala and the agent of Fen'Harel.

When she passed through the eluvian and found herself in a courtyard filled with Qunari warriors turned to stone, a looming sense of dread filled her gut. Every instinct told her to run: whatever she was facing, it was far stronger than an army of Qunari. What chance then, did a dying elf have? But by then, she had nothing left to lose, so she pressed on, weaving her way quietly through the stone warriors, listening for the Viddasala, praying she was not too late to stop her.

As she came up over the ridge, she heard the Viddasala's voice and another voice that stole the very breath from her lungs. But it couldn't be? He couldn't be here. Unless… The images and pieces from the murals and books she had found, the way he spoke like a man wiser than his years, the wealth of knowledge he had about the Fade, ancient elven artifacts, history, the anchor, and… the spell to remove the vallaslin. The same spell he had used to remove the markings from her face was the very same one in the murals of Fen'Harel.

She crested the hill and saw them. But he did not look like that elven apostate she first met all those years ago. He wore armor befitting a king or… a god.

As he turned his back on the Viddasala, the angered Qunari woman raised her spear. Without thinking, before she could cry out and warn him of the danger, Lavellan cast the shield charm she had used so many times before in his presence, barricading against the attack, but her efforts mattered little. The Viddasala froze and turned to stone, the same as all the other Qunari warriors.

Solas felt her presence before he saw or heard her. The energy of her shield charm, once a familiar comfort in their fights against enemies, now filled him with dread. He had known this day would come, but now that it was here, he was afraid to turn around. Let it be a dream, he prayed. Let it not come to pass this way.

"Solas."

Her voice came to him, pulling at the cords in his heart at the sweet sound of his name upon her lips. Two year had passed since he had seen her last, and yet to his heart the wound had never healed. He had never cut away the part of himself he reserved for her. He still loved her. Time, distance, and duty had not changed that.

His feet stopped and rooted themselves: he had to see her. He could not run from her. The force of his affection for her was like gravity, pulling him to her.

As he turned around, she fell to one knee, crying out in pain, resisting the anchor's pull with all her might. And it was all too real again. The memory of that night in Caer Corswinn was still too unbearable to recall, yet the pure agony of watching her suffer and fight against the power threatening to consume and overwhelm her was more than he could bear. He had sworn to find a way to help her, to save her from the anchor's power. But without the orb, he lost the best means at his disposal of doing just that. He had failed her, again. It was why he had to leave, to find Flemeth and claim the power of Mythal for his own. But now he had that power and forcing the anchor's power to subside was a simple matter. He let her catch her breath, wondering how much damage the anchor had already caused. "That should give us more time," he said gently.

She rose to her feet and when she looked at him, not quite believing that he was real and there in front of her. Relief pressed upon her heart more than anything else she felt: he was alive. For so long she had feared he was dead or that something worse had happened to him. Even now, when she ought to hate him for everything that he had done, she was grateful he was alive and well. Seeing him there before her, she felt that piece of her heart reserved for him, the old wound she had long thought scarred over, beat again, tearing and bleeding afresh. She knew she had not stopped loving him, but even after all this time, she was not prepared to feel everything she had once felt bursting forth at the mere sight of him. The pain in her hand was nothing to the torment in her heart. How could he stand there, composed and practically stoic, when what she felt threatened to unravel her completely?

His face softened as she rose and the familiar look of tenderness cut through her in a way she had not expected.

"I suspect you have questions," he said softly.

She did. Thousands of questions. She wanted to know why he left, where he had gone, what had happened in their time apart, why he had stayed away so long, and what it was that kept him from her. But the answer to all of her questions became clearer as she thought about them. And she looked at him sadly, for she knew him and had always known he carried a heavy sorrow within his heart, one that he could never share with her. The reason was the answer to all her questions, and yet it was so much more.

"The Qunari answered some of those questions. The information I found while traveling through the eluvians answered more." She leveled her gaze with his, full of sadness, pain, and frustration that he had kept something like this from her when they had been so close. "You're Fen'Harel. You're the Dread Wolf."

He surveyed her expression, trying to decipher what it was she must be thinking of him. "Well done." Even the Qunari had not quite pieced that part together, for all their attempts. But he should know better by now than to underestimate her. "I was Solas first. 'Fen'Harel' came later… An insult I took as a badge of pride. The Dread Wolf inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies… Not unlike 'Inquisitor,' I suppose." He cast his eyes down, away from her. "And now you know," he whispered, hating that fact and what it meant. There was no going back from this point. "What is the old Dalish curse? 'May the Dread Wolf take you'?"

It shouldn't have cut her down at the knees, but it did. He had taken her in every sense of the word. He had kept the truth from her: he, who had known her best. She felt used. "And so he did," she said quietly, hot tears burning behind her eyes.

He shook his head. No, she mustn't think that was what he did. He had told her what they had was real. It had been real! It was still real… "I did not. I would not lay with you under false pretenses." He meant every word of it. His love for her had been real. Even if he had not told her the whole truth of who and what he was, the man who he was loved her. None of it had been done in cruelty or manipulation to further his own ends. She had to know that. She had to know that was why he had struggled for so long with his regrets at engaging in their relationship at all. Not because it was a tactic or an attempt to sabotage, but because he knew that once the truth came to light, the repercussions would hurt her in innumerable ways. She deserved better than that. She deserved better than him. But that didn't matter to the call of his heart.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that it was true; that their love had been real and not some scheme in his grand machinations to regain his lost power. If Solas was Fen'Harel, why had he not trusted her with the truth? She knew him. She knew his quality and character. How could he treat her like she would not understand? Of all people, she knew what it was like to have stories and lies spread about her. She had learned countless lies about her own culture and beliefs and knew that history was wrought with cruelty. Images of Ameridan flooded her mind, that sickening reveal that he had been a Dalish elf, the same as her. That it had been the son of his closest friend who had led to the fall of the elves living in the Dales, was salt in the wound. And if such whitewashing of history went back to the time of Ancient Arlathan, corrupting the legacy of Fen'Harel, who had worked against the oppressors or would-be gods, freeing slaves and offering them safe haven, then everything she had grown up knowing about the history of her own people was wrong. But what was worse than having that taken from her, was knowing that the person she had been closest to, didn't think she would understand. When she was one of the few in this world who could.

"But you lied to me. I loved you. Did you really think I wouldn't have understood?" she shook her head, searching the eyes of the man she loved, begging him for an answer that made sense as to why he didn't trust her.

But he had no answer. None that would suffice. He had wanted to tell her when he removed the vallaslin. He had wanted to be honest, but the truth came with a terrible price. One that marked her already just for having known him. She would have understood, yes, he knew that. But he could not burden her with the fallout of his actions. They were his burden to bear alone. "Ir abelas, vhenan." She was still his heart, his love.

"Tel'abelas. If you care, give me truth," she begged. He had to know she understood. After all they had been through, all they had seen and done together, surely he knew her well enough to know she would accept who he was and the truth from his own lips over all others. The carving of Fen'Harel still watched over her while she slept at night. The one he had made for her. Clearly she did not hold to the Dalish beliefs about their gods, after all that she had seen with her own eyes.

"I sought to set my people free from slavery to would-be gods. I broke the chains of all who wished to join me. The false gods called me Fen'Harel, and when they finally went too far, I formed the Veil and banished them forever. Thus, I freed the elven people and, in so doing, destroyed their world." She had to know the weight of what he had carried. Sharing it had never been an option.

She looked at him, trying to grasp at the pieces of information, to connect what she did know with what didn't fit. "You love the Fade. Why would you create the Veil to hide it all away?"

A shadow passed over his face. "Because every alternative was worse."

"Meaning?"

"Had I not created the Veil, the Evanuris would have destroyed the entire world."

Like Corypheus would have, back in the future she saw at Redcliffe. She understood his goal then, to stop it from coming to pass, even if the price was high. For it had been high. Especially for the elves. Her people were still desperately trying to recover pieces of what had been lost.

"How did creating the Veil destroy the world?" she asked, wondering how it would even have been possible to create in the first place.

"You saw the remains of Vir Dirthara. The library was intrinsically tied to the Fade, and the Veil destroyed it. There were countless other marvels, all dependent on the presence of the Fade, all destroyed. Your legends are half-right. We were immortal."

That hit her with another blow. For all that had been taken from them, their mortality took more. Memory of the truth, lost forever. Lives that could have endured beyond all things, cut down. Her people knew so much death.

"It was not the arrival of humans that caused us to begin aging. It was me. The Veil took everything from the elves, even themselves," he lamented. It was a truth he hated above all others, and telling her was immeasurably painful. Because she was mortal. It was almost amusing if it were not so tragic in its irony, that he took away the immortality of the elves, only to fall in love with one who was mortal by his own making.

"You banished the false gods. You didn't kill them?" she asked, praying that they were not like Corypheus. She touched her face, remembering the vallaslin she once bore in honor of these false gods; before she knew what they truly were and what the markings meant.

"You met Mythal, did you not? The first of my people do not die so easily. The Evanuris are banished forever, paying the ultimate price for their misdeeds."

"You said that the elven gods went too far. What did they do that made you move against them?"

"They killed Mythal." A dark chuckle escaped his lips. "A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment."

Everything she had once known about the elven gods turned to rubble in her head and she was left shifting through the sand, trying to make sense of the truth. "I thought Mythal was one of the Evanuris?"

"She was the best of them. She cared for people. She protected them. She was the voice of reason. And in their lust for power, they killed her." She tried to understand what that meant. After all, she had seen Mythal. She had been to the Well of Sorrows and knew there was more involved than she could ever comprehend. How could an immortal being be killed? If that was true… if banishment was the only real solution… was there a way to actually kill them? Was banishment or imprisonment the only real option? If that was the case, was it possible that by banishing Corypheus to the Fade, she hadn't gotten rid of him for good? Were the elves like him, mages who accumulated power over the ages?

"The Evanuris were elven mages? How did they become remembered as gods?" It was too terrible. This was what the Dalish kept of their history? Worshipping those that one oppressed them and taking their slave markings as a right of passage? It was all wrong. And yet, she knew there were many who followed Corypheus, believing him to be a god as well.

"Slowly. It started with a war. War breeds fear. Fear breeds a desire for simplicity. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Chains of command. After the war ended, generals became respected elders, then kings, and finally gods. The Evanuris."

She shook her head. Just like Corypheus. Would the people of Thedas worship him one day as well?

"That's the past. What about the future?" Surely there was a reason why he had left. Why he had kept his real identity a secret.

"I lay in dark in dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages passed. I woke still weak a year before I joined you. My people fell for what I did to strike down the Evanuris, but still hope remains for restoration. I will save the elven people, even if it means this world must die."

The breath left her. She knew what it meant to destroy the world to rebuild a better one. She had done it in Redcliffe and all of the people she cared for and countless innocent lives had paid the price in that future. He had not gone through that with her. He didn't understand what it meant if it had gone wrong. The world already bore the scars of Corypheus's attempt to seize control of it. She knew the price of such a fallout. "Why does this world have to die for the elves to return?" Her voice struggled to say it, afraid of what it might mean.

"A good question, but not one I will answer. You have always shown a thoughtfulness I respected. It would be too easy to tell you too much. I am not Corypheus. I take no joy in this. But the return of my people may mean the end of yours." The last of his words were little more than breath, so much did the admission choke his throat. Because it could also mean the end of her world, or worse: the end of her. And that was too terrible a thought to hold.

It didn't have to be this way. She had to make him see that. She knew better than anyone what it was like to remake the world. In Redcliffe she had not even believed the people to be real, but they were. And they all died for her. Solas, infected with red lyrium, gave his life to give the world a chance at a better future. Without her friends and their sacrifice, she might have died before time could be changed or worse. This was not a path to walk alone. If she could make him see, maybe she could help him find a better way. It did not have to end in destruction. If the world was whole with the Fade once before, there must be a way to restore what was lost without everything descending into chaos. They could work together, like they had with the Inquisition. The change didn't have to come with a grave sacrifice. "Let me help you, Solas," she pleaded.

"I cannot do that to you, vhenan," he said, shaking his head. He could not put her in harm's way. He knew the cost of what would come, knew the villain he would become, and he cared for her too much to see her pulled down with him.

She saw it then, in his eyes, the knowledge of what it meant to remake the world: he believed he would be the new Corypheus. A terror to the world, a would-be god clutching at power for his own gain, ripping the world apart and tearing down the Veil to restore his own might, destroying any force who dared to try and stop him. But that was not who he was. He was not trying to oppress the people or destroy everything like Corypheus. He was trying to mend what had been broken, to restore a vital piece of this world that had been lost, to save people who would have spent their lives enslaved to actual would-be gods. It broke something in her to see him like that, to see what he believed he would become. And it made her furious too. He was not the Dread Wolf the Dalish depicted. She had fought at his side, had seen him give his all to protect the innocent. And now he was trying to do what she had done in Redcliffe. He was not a monster. His did not have to be a path of destruction and ruin.

"But you would do it to yourself?" She stared at him in disbelief. He was not a monster, yet he believed in some way that he was. She knew better. She had walked this path before. If he would just listen to her, if she could make him see, then it did not have to be this way. "I cannot bear to think of you alone." Her eyes bore into his, begging him to let her in, to help shoulder this burden.

But he could not let her. She was too precious to him. He would not risk her life or her reputation. If he must become the Dread Wolf feared by all, he would do it. The price alone would be his. "I walk the Din'anshiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become." And the shame filled his stomach, for he knew his taint would reach her, as it already had; the Qunari accusations were proof enough of that. She did not deserve to fall into ruin after all the good she had done. He would not let history paint her as the villain. "It is my fight. You should be more concerned about the Inquisition. Your Inquisition. In stopping the Dragon's Breath, you have prevented an invasion by Qunari forces. With luck, they will return their focus to Tevinter. That should give you a few years of relative peace."

Before what? Before it all came crashing down? Before Thedas descended into a spiral of unending conflict all over again? Before she died? She was used to war by now, had averted plenty of crises and dealt with others that had been unavoidable to save as many innocent lives as possible. But it was not like her hands were unbloodied after all these years. She understood the cost of peace often meant battling against greater evils. She had already dedicated her life to helping people, did he truly believe she would sit idly by, waiting for a war on her doorstep?

"What's wrong with the Inquisition?" Spies she knew, had to be in the works. But to the extent, she did not know. If he did… Had he kept it from her?

"You created a powerful organization, and now it suffers from the inevitable fate of such. Betrayal and corruption."

Was that what this was? Fen'Harel, the betrayer. Had he already turned her own people against her? She believed in and trusted her people. Would they really turn against her so easily? "It's not that simple," she muttered, though whether to him or to herself, she couldn't be sure.

"Do you know how I discovered the Qunari plot? The plot I discovered by leading them to your doorstep? The Qunari spies in the Inquisition tripped over my spies in the Inquisition. The elven guard that led you to the Qunari body, who intercepted the servant with the gaatlok barrel? Mine."

She should've known. She was in The Game now. And all the trappings that came with it. But to know it was Solas who had sent spies into her Inquisition… He really had used her. And betrayed her. Was the rest of what he said possible too? If so, then why tell her at all? Why not let them carry out their invasion if he was going to destroy this world? "Why bother disrupting the Qunari plot if you're going to destroy the world regardless?"

He saw the agony in her heart, could feel her sicken at the admission that he had betrayed her by sending spies into her midst. He could suffer her hating him for his choices, but he could not bear her thinking he was someone who had used her for his own gain. "You have shown me that there is value in this world, Inquisitor. I take no joy in what I must do. Until that day comes, I will see those recovering from the Breach free of the Qun."

"Why?" She might have laughed if the thought didn't make her feel so ill. Was it kinder or crueller to prolong a life only for it to end in a few years anyway?

"Because I am not a monster. If they must die, I would rather they die in comfort. In any event, it is done."

His words hit her like a blow. Did he see them that way? Would he truly have to sacrifice all of the mortal world to bring back his own? Was that the price that must be paid? Were none worthy enough to be spared? Was there no other way? Could the Fade be restored to this world without it falling into ruin? If they had been whole once, then surely the world need not be destroyed to do it. She stared at the man she thought she knew, but this new visage of Fen'Harel, was a man she did not understand. If there was value in this world, why must all of it end? Had she been manipulated this entire time? "The Qunari said that the Inquisition was unknowingly working for agents of Fen'Harel."

"I gave no orders," he insisted. He had not used her. He had not. She had to know, it was not a lie.

"You led us to Skyhold." Where the Inquisition was formed and built up out of nothing after Haven was destroyed. Had he been pulling strings behind the curtain, planning to destroy the world and using her to do it?

"Corypheus should have died unlocking my orb. When he survived, my plans were thrown into chaos. When you survived, I saw the Inquisition as the best hope this world had in stopping him. And you needed a home. Hence, Skyhold." He had not manipulated her or corrupted the Inquisition. Her sacrifice in Haven proved to him that there was good in this world worth fighting for. And so he had brought them to Skyhold. He had given her his home. Given it to a leader who deserved it.

She stared at him, trying to believe it wasn't all a fabrication. "You gave your orb to Corypheus?" It brought her pain even to think of it. Had he really started all of this? Was he the reason she was dying? Was he the reason why the Breach happened in the first place? Was the world he planned to bring down worse than what Corypheus had planned?

But he could not deny his fault in this. His plan had been most unwise and he carried the blame for the fallout from his recklessness. "Not directly. My agents allowed the Venatori to locate it. The orb had built up magical energy while I lay unconscious for millennia. I was not powerful enough to open it. The plan was for Corypheus to unlock it, and for the resulting explosion to kill him. Then I would have claimed the orb. I did not foresee a Tevinter magister having learned the secret of effective immortality."

That was little comfort to her. "What would have happened if Corypheus had died and you'd recovered the orb?"

"I would have entered the Fade using the mark you now bear. Then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time… The world of the elves."

"If you destroyed the Veil, wouldn't the false gods be freed?"

"I had plans."

She resisted the urge to tell him his plans didn't work out very well the first time. "I never thought of you as someone who would do that, Solas." To imagine the man she loved, with all his gentleness and compassion, to believe him capable of such destruction and senseless bloodshed… was incomprehensible.

When she looked at him, he saw that she meant it. She truly believed the best of him and he ached down in his very soul to be the man that she thought he was. "Thank you," was all he could manage. Her kindness and generosity of spirit impressed him even now. How did she still see goodness in him when he admitted this terrible truth to her? He had to explain, to make her understand, because if she knew what it had been like, what had been lost, how wrong the world around them was, she might… His thought trailed off. She might what? Forgive him? He did not deserve forgiveness. But she deserved to know. "You must understand. I awoke in a world where the Veil had blocked most people's conscious connections to the Fade. It was like walking through a world of Tranquil."

She grimaced, sickened by his words. "We're not even people to you?"

"Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong… again. That does not make what must come next any easier."

She looked at him, and though his words should have left her in despair, they gave her hope. She had proved him wrong. She had shown him that this world had value. She had changed his mind, at least in part. That was not nothing. There was power in that. There may still be a chance to change his mind yet again. She knew him. The real man. Not Fen'Harel, but Solas. She saw the real man behind the mask. She would not let him forget what it was they could accomplish together. "Whatever your reasons, we couldn't have defeated Corypheus without you." She needed him to remember that he had also worked hard to save this world and its people. They had won the battle together.

"Your doubts are misplaced. Everything you accomplished, you earned." He would not let her diminish what she had fought for and achieved. Her glory was hers. He did not deserve a share of it when he was the reason the devastation had happened in the first place.

Lavellan stared down at the mark on her hand, remembering all too well the cost of what she had accomplished. She knew she did not have long. He was the only one who could save her now. "There's still the matter of the anchor. It's getting worse," she told him, meeting his gaze. She had promised to tell him the truth as the damage spread. There was no reason to lie to him now. And perhaps it might remind him that he could still save people.

The sorrow that claimed him was unbearable. He could sense the damage of the anchor, could feel its power building to burst. He should have returned to her sooner, but he had been a coward. If he had chosen to return, he would have turned his back on his duty and all the people he had trapped in the Fade. But it came at a price. And she was that price. "I know, vhenan. And we are running out of time." She was still his heart. Before he had left he had sworn to find her a cure.

The anchor flared and another burst of magical energy ripped through her body. She cried out in pain, collapsing down to her knees.

He bent down, taking her hand in his. "The mark will eventually kill you. Drawing you here gave me the chance to save you… at least for now."

No. She would not give up on him. "Solas, var lath vir suledin." It did not have to end in tragedy. She would make him see. This was not the end. There was still a chance to change things. The love she bore for him would prove it true in the end.

"I wish it could, vhenan." He wanted to believe her. He wanted their love to conquer all obstacles, to find a way through the turbulent storm ahead. He would treasure the chance for her to prove him wrong once again.

The anchor flared in another burst of energy and she lost herself in the excruciating pain, crying out in agony.

Solas sank down before her, taking ahold of her wrist and drawing her close. If this was the last time… "My love…" he whispered, threading his fingers in her hair as he drew her in for one last kiss. Their lips met and the familiar comfort took hold as feelings they both had tried to suppress over the past two years flooded forth. He had not expected her to kiss him back, for those soft lips to reclaim him with such ready wanting. Her lips lingered on his, wishing she could keep him there forever, holding onto the moment, onto him, refusing to let him go. And he wanted to stay. He wanted to kiss her and hold her, but he forced himself to pull back, breaking the kiss. The spell to absorb the anchor's power and freeze the damage barely registered to her. All that mattered was him.

The look in her eyes nearly destroyed him. How was it that after all this time, after everything she now knew, that she could still look at him like that, with such love and tenderness, and that fierce determination burning underneath it all… He knew in that moment that his heart would never release her. He was bound to her, body and spirit. No matter where he went, how far he fled from her, his heart would beat for her.

He rose, tearing himself away. "I will never forget you." The heaviness in his heart weighed him down as it tried to claw back to his love. But he forced himself to leave, compelling himself through the eluvian before he turned back and all was lost.

She watched him go, the taste of his kiss lingering upon her lips. "And I will never give up on you," she promised.