Evelyn Trevelyan did not send for him that morning, nor that afternoon. It was dark when Solas wandered the halls, alone, noting the way the armed men closed ranks were he to drift too close to certain corridors. He slept alone, woke alone, and dined alone for a full three days, his invitations to the various daytime outings and evening activities clearly misplaced.

There is a moment, when one has gone too long without speaking to the object of one's affection, that doubt begins to slither in. Solas reminded himself that he was exercising the same patient distance that had protected him time and time again in his life, and that it would undoubtedly shield him from the inevitable pain he'd been avoiding. This could not possibly go on forever, and if she were the one to speed it to its end, all the better, was it not? He'd dreaded the undoing of all they had developed, although he knew it lurked around each corner. Every step The Inquisition took brought them closer to the battle he knew loomed, the one that would change the course not only of their love but all of history. If she were the one to drive the knife that severed them, it would be better. He knew this, deep in his heart.

This did nothing to dull the pain.

He found amusements where he could. The footmen who dwelled in the same hall as his simple bedchamber were known for card games in the east gardens. After he'd thoroughly emptied their pockets, the rumor spread that he had some sort of ability to foresee the future, which led to being sought out by more than one of the household staff. He found that the general, "you will have an unexpected journey, you will find love where you aren't looking for it, you should avoid gatherings of groups of threes," provided enough prophecy to heighten the gossip. Solas told himself that he wasn't doing this in the hopes of gaining her attention. It wasn't until it failed to work that he grumpily realized the plan was both childish and beneath him.

Given enough years and time, it might be possible to forget what love, real love felt like. No amount of time, however, numbed you from recognizing that stomach-dropping sensation when you first feel love slip away. The bargaining started early, the little games he would play to convince himself there was a reasonable explanation for her absence. That she was protecting him or being held prisoner against her will, that she had fallen ill and begged the others not to tell him. Any of those tragedies would protect him from the nauseating thought that he might be losing her.

There was a commotion, as if many people had all begun to move about the building at once. He spotted Varric in the hall when he pried open his door, and the dwarf looked a little uneasy about talking to him. "How are you holding up?" the dwarf asked in a tone that said he didn't necessarily want to know the answer to the question. When Solas stared past him, toward the sounds of the courtyard beyond, Varric's shoulders slumped a bit in relief. "We're moving out. Hasn't anyone told you?" Another sympathetic look before the door closed again.

It had to happen, didn't it? It was meant to end, and if not now, then soon? This is expected. This should not hurt. It isn't real. If given the chance to speak with her alone again, he told himself, he would end it immediately. Save her the pain and humiliation of having to break off something that never should have existed in the first place. It would be a kindness, after all. Solas considered the proper timing of this conversation, the place. Somewhere not too far from Skyhold, where they could have a polite conversation before he excused himself. Give her time and space to grieve, if she needed to grieve the loss. She would likely need that period before the formal engagement was announced.

The horse beneath him whinnied in protest, letting out several displeased bursts of air. "You uh, might want to let up on the reins a bit there, Solas," The Iron Bull said slowly. "They tend to stop if you pull too hard."

"Yes. Sorry. My mind was elsewhere."

The Qunari looked ahead, to where Evelyn rode beside her father. "Yeaaaah. I can imagine. Say," he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone, "mind if I give you some advice?"

"I have certainly never found a way to stop you from it."

The Iron Bull laughed, "That's good. Keep the sense of humor up. Laugh about it. Joke about it, but be careful who you're talking to. Drink, if that's your thing. Find a nice warm redhead to, uh, help you over the rocky parts. Best cure out there."

"Thank you," Solas said wearily. "I will certainly keep that in mind."

"Don't mention it."

It shouldn't make him that angry, to hear that others had already surmised he would need to be the one doing the moving on. As if his was the heart that needed mending, as if he were the wounded party when she had yet to deliver a single strike. This was how people attempted to "help" in these situations, after all. Yet his heart still burned more fiercely than his ears. It wasn't fair, to feel like this now, as he was so close to achieving what he'd intended. It wasn't fair to want something, someone that was so firmly anchored to the reality of the here and now he wished to prevent from ever happening. And it certainly wasn't fair that she got to just dissolve from his life like snow on a sunny roof, melting away until there was nothing left to mark where she'd once stood. Solas kicked his bedroll open in frustration, sitting heavily on the cold, hard ground inside his tent. The noise outside from the fires was infuriating, people laughing and carrying on as if his life wasn't ending.

This was the part never considered when one first feels the pull of love's call: the part where you have to deal with the tattered remains. He stretched onto his back on the bedroll, staring at the thatch patterns in the canvas. The noise outside grew quieter and quieter until the sound of crickets overtook the grounds. Solas rolled onto his side. The wind whispered through the grass as he felt sleep tug at him.

The hand on his ankle woke him at once. Halfway rising, he saw Evelyn in the entry to his tent, pulling the flaps closed behind her, one finger against her lips. He shook his head, eyes narrowing in confusion for just a moment. Then she was above him, upon him, hands pulling him impossibly close as her mouth found his, relieved sighs from each as they fell back against his bedroll, turning until they lay side by side.

"I thought you had-"

"Stay quiet."

He nodded, whispering, "I thought-"

She kissed him again, silencing the words. When she replied, it was against his chin. "I was to be on my best behavior or he threatened to move in. To Skyhold. I had to prove I could behave myself. He had a guard posted outside my door."

"I suspected you were being held against my will."

"Held against my-?" she pushed against his chest. "He didn't want you sneaking in. The scullery in that place was worse than The Randy Dowager. He had knowledge of our goings on I wouldn't want anyone to know, let alone someone I was related to."

"Are you here to tell me..." he found the words hard to say, blinking rapidly.

"Tell you...?" she shook her head slowly, then hiss-whispered, "For the love of Andraste, Solas. I didn't marry him."

He nodded silently, her cupping his cheek with her hand.

"Hey, hey look at me. I'm not engaged to anyone. That wasn't what this was. We just sort of... talked. He's actually not all that bad."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's supposed to be the truth. I don't think he's into this arranged marriage much, either. It seems to be something our fathers worked on without stopping to consider either of us might have a say."

"Does that mean you can stop this whole ridiculous courtship ritual?"

She kissed him again. "It means that you can stop worrying. I have to play nice for appearances, but I believe I can have everything I need without needing to become a Vael." Evelyn began to slowly crawl over him.

"Are you leaving?"

"Shhh. Yes. I don't want to ruin what goodwill I have left by being found crawling out of your tent at dawn."

"Evelyn?" Solas whispered, grabbing onto her wrist. "I am in love with you, you know."

She smiled, teeth glinting in the dark. "I know. I promise I'll remind you just how in love with you I am soon." She squeezed his hand, "Just let me play along until my father is headed back home." With a twist of her wrist, she loosed his grip and grasped his forearm in her hand, pulling them forcefully together for one final kiss. "I know what's real," she whispered, and was gone.

Solas leaned back onto his elbows, his forearm still warm from her touch. As he eased himself down, the word repeating in his head, becoming less the musical breath of air she'd spoken with each repetition, growing almost menacing now that he was alone in the dark.

Real. Real. Real. Real. Real.