Don't leave
They continued their journey through the Dales, preferring not to travel over the highway, where they would cross cities. They were all tired from travel and did not want to deal with whatever encounters would await them in cities. The detour through the Dales might take a little longer, but without the holdups of the cities, they might still arrive at Skyhold sooner.
With a few more days of travel to go, they found an established Inquisition camp they could rest. It was nice to have other people around who could cook and take guard, and it gave them a chance to restock for their final days of travel.
That night Cassandra and Ennaly shared a tent. They both spend some time reading their respective books, until Ennaly once again got too bored trying to remember what heraldry matched what house. She did get nearly everything right now, so that was something.
"You know, you don't have to hide your books," Ennaly said when she looked at the Seeker, who always made sure the front of their books faced away. "You've seen me nearly naked being scared of a spider. I don't think you have anything to be embarrassed about."
"Oh," the Seeker said, flushing. She closed her book, Varric Tethras clearly visible on the cover as the author.
"I won't tease you, there's no shame in enjoying some stories. We all need an escape somehow."
"Don't tell Varric."
"Why not? Do you really not like him?"
Cassandra contemplated. "Like him?"
"Oh. I don't mean like like," Ennaly said, looking at her. "Not that there would be something wrong if you did."
Cassandra scoffed. "I don't like Varric. It's not that I hate him, necessarily."
"It's complicated?" Ennaly offered with a smile.
"Like you and Solas?"
That made Ennaly pause.
"My apologies, Inquisitor, I didn't mean –" Cassandra started hastily.
"You can just call me by my name, you know. I think we've far surpassed formalities by now."
The Seeker smiled. "Well then, Ennaly, if – if you don't mind sharing, is there something between you? I saw how you danced that one night. It just seemed very romantic, that is all."
Ennaly sighed. "I danced with Varric too, didn't I?"
"That was very different dance."
She was right, of course. "Can I get away with saying it was just Elven stuff you won't understand? Because it was, in a sense. It's difficult to explain. Just know that there's nothing going on."
"Oh. My apologies. I should not have pried."
"It's fine. Duties and responsibilities, right?" she said, repeating what Solas had said. "We have more important things to worry about."
A moment passed in silence.
"Have you ever been with a non-Human? I have been with a non-Elf." Ennaly asked, suddenly interested.
"No. Is it different?"
Ennaly smiled, and after that they spend some time chatting about men, and she felt like she was fifteen again, half a lifetime ago, sitting with her friends in her mother's aravel, eating spit cakes, chatting about what boys they would like to kiss.
Ennaly awoke with blinding pain running through her body, originating at the Anchor. It flared up and she was sure the light would be visible from outside the tent. She didn't want anyone else in the Inquisition to see a weakness in her, so she pressed her hand between her thighs, in the hope that would block the light.
It didn't help with the pain, though. She cursed and could feel cold sweat forming all over. There were moments before when it ached, but never so intense. Usually it was very short-lived, so if she just gritted her teeth, it might pass soon. She couldn't suppress grunts and soon she heard Cassandra stirring.
"Ennaly?" she asked, concerned, waking up instantly at the sight on her distress.
"It's the Anchor," she said through clenched teeth. "I'll be fine, I don't want –" she had to stop as another wave of pain overwhelmed her. "Don't want anyone to know."
"Is there something I can do?" Cassandra asked.
"No - no. This will pass... It always does."
As she was fighting another wave, she heard Cassandra mention that she'd get Solas, since he knew how to deal with this. The words only landed in Ennaly's head after the Seeker had left. All alone, she curled in a ball, hand still between her legs, but sparks of energy seemed to escape it. She didn't know how much time passed before she noticed the tent flap opening again.
"Ennaly," she heard Solas' concerned voice.
"I don't want anyone to know," she grunted, tears from the pain running over her face.
"Try and drink this," Solas said, handing her a potion.
Unfurling, she drank it. It was a restoration potion, but it hardly did anything. She curled in a ball again. Concerned, Solas placed a hand on her shoulder and cast a spell. It seemed to calm the pain a bit.
"Can you give me your hand?" he asked.
Panting to keep down the pain, she tried to reach out her hand, but the pain made her jerk it back when he took it.
Solas shushed her, tried to console her, but the tent was too small to properly move around and find a comfortable position.
When Ennaly recovered from several waves of blinding pain, she found herself sitting against his chest, him looking over her shoulder to her hand. He had pulled a blanket over her to stop her shivering and was casting spells into the Anchor, slowly soothing the ache.
"Is this going to kill me?" she asked, watching the small green sparks of energy, much less now, escaping from the mark.
"Not if I can help it," Solas said, his mouth near her ear. "Try and relax, I will stop whatever is happening."
"Do you think it's Corypheus? Is he near?" She started to stir.
"Shhh, don't move," Solas said. "I do not think he has any power over the Anchor. He tried that already and failed."
"Then what is happening?"
"Either your body is fighting the power of the Anchor, or it is the other way around. Whatever it is, we have to stop it."
"Can you?"
"I think so. But stop moving. I need to concentrate. Try and focus on your breathing. Try and match it with mine, if that helps."
It did. Ennaly slowly calmed down by slowly breathing in and out and focussing on the soothing feeling from Solas spells through her palm. Eventually, the rhythmic rising and falling of Solas' chest against her back, together with his chanting near her ear was enough to drive her off to sleep.
Ennaly felt warm and comfortable when she woke up. It took her a moment to remember the night's event. She was no longer aching. But as she slowly became more aware of her surroundings, she noticed warm breath in her neck, an arm around her waist, and a warm body pressed against her back.
She froze.
She realized she'd fallen asleep when Solas was trying to heal her hand and he must not have wanted to wake her up after that. It was likely he'd fallen asleep himself after all the spells he had cast into her hand, having depleted his own mana, exhausted from the effort. And that was probably how they ended up like this.
The best thing to do perhaps was to try and see if she could remove herself from Solas' arms without waking him up, silently dressing herself, and exiting the tent. It would save them both from the embarrassment of waking up like this and having to face each other.
As she slowly tried to roll away, the grip on her waist tightened and she could feel Solas' head trying to nuzzle at her shoulder.
Alright, that didn't work.
Solas muttered softly in Elven, only audible because they were so close together. "Please stay. I need you. Don't leave."
She could hardly blame him for the actions in his sleep, but did he really mean those words? Was he dreaming about something? Where those words for her?
Before she could fully process or consider a next step, she heard a sharp intake of breath and Solas awoke, sitting upright almost immediately.
"I'm sorry!" Ennaly said quickly to cover whatever embarrassment there might be, scooting away as far as she could.
"Ennaly," he said, pale and staring at her like he saw a ghost, completely ignorant on how he just woke up. "I may need a favour."
And so, five companions had set out from Skyhold, had turned to six in Crestwood, to four in the Western Approach, and now to three here in the Dales.
It turned out Solas had been dreaming about a spirit friend that needed help. It made Ennaly a bit weak in the stomach to realize those Elven words he muttered were never for her, but must have been whispered to the spirit, before it was forced out of the Fade by a summoning. It was a surprise to see the pride demon, locked in the summoning circle, and then a second surprise to see the beautiful spirit that emerged when they had destroyed the stones.
She heard the words they shared before the spirit died. It was sad. She'd never seen him so affected by anything that happened before. And then, to see him rage against the mages that started this… She'd seen him break his exterior of quiet, reserved mage before, but not like this degree, the pure hatred turned to power. She couldn't blame him, they'd just killed his friend in their foolish ignorance, but the power of his rage was something to behold.
And then, the look of hurt and rage as he turned to face them. "Damn them all. I need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold." He had taken his horse, climbed on, and sped away. He didn't even seem to have heard the words she spoke to him.
There was nothing they could do to stop him, but it left Ennaly heartbroken, both for the hurt Solas must be feeling, and how he had left her. He had been there from the very start, that first day she woke up after the catastrophe at the conclave. She saw Cassandra looking at her with sympathy as she was staring at the place where Solas had left.
Varric, too, seemed to have noticed her mood. "He'll come back, Inquisitor, I'm sure of it," he said.
"Yes," Ennaly said, feeling empty inside. "Let's go, I don't want to be here any longer than we have to."
They had three more days of travel to go, which was the three most dreadful days of travel she'd ever know. They just wanted to be back, so most days were spent in silence. In the evenings, Varric tried his best to cheer her up, volunteering for a dance, which she greatly appreciated.
The last night before they would reach Skyhold, Ennaly found herself in a dream. It started out with her enjoying a meal with her mother in the Dalish camp, the scent of rabbit and sage stew familiar. Many Elves were dancing around a fire. The leaves in the trees were red and orange, it was the fall festival. She recognized the place and realized this was the fall festival from one and a half year ago.
Her mother was telling the story of how she had met her father, something Ennaly could never get enough of. Then, she started to ask about Anarel, and if she could expect grandchildren soon.
Ennaly protested, that was ten years ago and the idea was absurd. Then her mother started asking when she could meet Solas.
"Will he give me give me grandchildren?" her mother asked, placing a hand on her stomach. "It is a Dalish woman's duty to mother a child, and you honour the all-Mother. You're not getting any younger, da'lath. You were nine when I was your age. You could get such a strong mage child, with purple eyes like you, they can be your First when you are Keeper."
"Mamae!" she exclaimed, not believing she was having this conversation again. "That is not the path for me. When I am Keeper, all the clan members will be like my children to care for. You know this."
"I just want you to be happy, Enny…" her mother said. "The right man can make you very happy. But he can also make you very sad."
"Like father?" she asked.
"Yes, like your father," her mother said mournfully, stroking her cheek. "May Falon'Din keep his soul. He lives on in your eyes, da'lath."
Her mother faded into mist, just like the rest of the Dalish camp. From the mist, a new landscape formed, unfamiliar and quiet.
She was near a pond, the branches of a large willow tree extended to the surface of the water. Many flowers grew around the pond. A low mist remained, covering the grassy terrain. It smelled like rain. As she looked around, she saw that the ground made a steep angle, water from the pond flowing in the corner like it hadn't noticed. She saw a figure sitting near a large stone on the second plane.
She took a step. The beads on her dress rustled. She was still wearing the outfit she had worn to the fall festival in her dream, layered tunics in fall colours and skirts that reached her mid-calf, everything covered with the skilful embroidery from her mother's hands. Around her waist were braided leather belts, and hanging down were strings of beads, from resins, stone, and wood. Her hair was intricately braided, a style she could not accomplish by herself, likewise decorated with beads and feathers. She was the First after all and her outfit reflected her position.
"Solas?" she asked, walking to the plane where he was sitting. It was like ascending a stairs, but when she stepped, reality flipped with her.
The figure looked up, raised, and held his hands defensively.
"Away, demon," he spoke.
"I am no demon," she said, wondering if the figure in front her might be a demon instead.
Both extended their auras, they met in the middle.
"Ennaly?" Solas asked, confused. "You look so different."
"So do you," she noted.
The Solas in front of her was wearing a black tunic of a fine material which seemed to absorb the light, like velvet. It had white billowing sleeves, seemingly lighter than air, cuffed at the wrist in gold. It seemed to lightly sparkle with reflection of the ambient light surrounding them, contrasting beautifully to the dark black.
Gossamer silks woven with lyrium, crystals and metals, he had once said to describe what Elven nobles wore in ancient Arlathan. If ever she thought he looked like a king, this outfit solidified it. Had he manifested it in reverence to his lost spirit friend?
They couldn't have looked more contrasting, him dressed in smooth lines, rich fabrics in a beautiful simple design, form-fitting, opposed to her rough woven fabrics in earth tones, loosely hung from her shoulders, only shaped by the belts at her waist, with many decorations covering it.
She saw his eyes glide over her outfit with something like wonder. All her talk about the Dalish trying to remember... No wonder Solas thought so poorly of them, because at first glance, it's couldn't have looked any further apart. Silly trinkets now replaced the sophistication of lost craft, these beautiful fabrics... And whatever words you could use to describe her dress, elegant would not be one of them. She once had felt good in her outfit, liked the way it rustled when she danced, but now she almost wished she was dressed in the silly Human gown.
"How are you here?" Solas asked in wonder.
"I… don't know. I was just dreaming about a festival, I was talking to my mother, she was asking about you… It doesn't matter. Then I was here. Did you bring me here?"
Solas stared at her, shaking his head with disbelief.
"Are you okay, Solas?" she asked. She didn't care how she got here. She was just glad to see him. "After what happened, I worried…"
Solas knelt down near the stone again and closed his eyes. "It hurts," he said. "It always does, but I will survive."
Ennaly stepped nearer. "You don't have to mourn alone," she said softly.
"It's been so long since I could trust someone."
"I know." He looked so vulnerable. Careful, wondering if he'd let her, she walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. The velvet of his tunic was soft and warm. As he was on his knees, he only reached to her chest. After a moment of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, clutching at the many layers of fabric on her back.
She didn't know if he was crying, but she didn't care. She wanted to be there for him, wanted someone to be there for him. She couldn't imagine feeling so alone you had to mourn the loss of a friend by yourself.
She didn't know how long they were standing there before Solas pulled away.
"Thank you," he said, staring out over the pond nearby. After another moment, he stood up. "This is where my friend used to dwell."
"It is a very serene place," Ennaly replied. It was, the ponds, the large willow, with the flowers, it looked suspended in time.
"Do you see that, in the water?" Solas asked, pointing at a spot in the pond. The water was stirring there, rippling outwards. "A spirit does not die the same way a mortal does. My friend's energy has returned here. Its ideas were strong, and one day, a new spirit may rise again."
"Can it come back then?"
"No," Solas said mournfully. "It will grow with a different personality and would likely not remember me. It would not be the friend I knew."
"I am sorry."
He looked up and smiled. "I know it may seem strange to you, but I appreciate what you did for my friend. That matters to me. You matter."
Ennaly walked next to him, staring out over the pond, taking in the serenity of this place.
"I should not have left," he said.
"It's okay, Solas, I understand."
"How is your hand? Is it still hurting you?"
She smiled. "No, it stopped hurting. You helped me."
"I am glad to hear. I will be back at Skyhold in two days."
"I look forward to seeing you again."
Solas took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. "So do I."
Author's Notes:
I have renamed the story from "Faded Purple" to "Out of Tune". When I started writing, I had the intension of using the colour purple as a common theme, but never quite managed to. Instead, rhythm, tunes and dance seemed to have far surpassed "purple" as the common theme, so the change in title represents that!
Elven: mamae = mum, da'lath = little love, I intend it to mean something like "sweetie".
It's my birthday today! I remember around my 20th birthday, when DAO just came out and my father gifted it to me. The games helped me through a lot of difficult times, which I think is relatable to all here. I still remember my very first playthrough, completely unspoiled, where I was lucky enough to play a female Cousland who ended up marrying Alistair. My father played too and said Leliana reminded him of me, so she will always be special to me. I'm also lucky enough to be in the generation where the age of the characters in the first three games seems to increase with my own, from near 20 in the first game, to 30's now in DAI. Got to love my digital friends!