Author's Note: Set in a time after the end of Dragon Age: Inquisition and Trespasser and follows a Solas and Lavellan romance plotline. If you have not yet played them, please do so before reading to avoid spoilers. This story was written in 2021, prior to the release of Dragon Age 4 or any other subsequent games and therefore might deviate from canon content. Writing this story was a labor of love and I would greatly appreciate reviews, positive feedback about what you enjoyed and what you wanted to see more/less of, favorites, follows, and shares with others who might enjoy it. Please note that this story contains subject matter that may not be suitable for all audiences. Reader discretion is advised.
Chapter 1: The Sacrifice
It was late in the evening and the fire crackling in the hearth behind the elven man cast a long, wolf-like shadow on the wall. An elf in gilded uniform hesitated before he approached the ornate desk, behind which the Dread Wolf sat, reviewing reports and writing orders for a scouting party in the east. "An envoy has arrived on behalf of the Dalish clans with a message for you, Ser."
The ancient elf known as the Dread Wolf didn't bother raising his head. "From the Council?"
"I believe so, Ser."
He kept his eyes on the orders he was writing. Experience had taught him that whatever the Dalish Council wanted, it would only make matters worse. "And what does it say?"
"They wish to negotiate an alliance, I believe. They request an audience with two of their ambassadors."
"An alliance?" He looked up from his writings, quill poised above the parchment. The Dalish had been one of their most aggressive adversaries. There was always a fresh report of some skirmish or raid that involved the Dalish sabotaging his efforts these days. "Send Commander Abelas to meet with their ambassadors. I'm sure he won't mind a day of wasted effort." With that, he turned back to the orders he had been working on.
"The request specifically asks for an audience with your person, Ser. And…" the elf stalled momentarily, looking a bit uncomfortable. "The request for an alliance seems genuine, Ser. It bears the signatures of not only the Dalish Council of Clans, but other clans from the Free Marches and the Arbor Wilds as well."
This drew Dread Wolf''s attention and he raised his head from his writings. "Let me see." The elf handed it over. The letter was exceptionally clear about the request to meet with him directly and indeed bore the signatures of over thirty clans. He considered the parchment for a while and then set it aside.
"Shall I draft a response, Ser?" the elf offered.
"No, Din'al. I shall provide a response. You may go."
The elf bowed and left.
The Dread Wolf set his quill back in its rest and pulled the letter from the Council closer, trailing his finger down the list of the clan names until he saw one that gave him pause: Clan Lavellan. This intrigued him. Many of the clans, but Clan Lavellan in particular, had made their opposition to his efforts well known. He remembered their 'gift' of a severed head from one of the Fen'Harel statues in their lands quite well. Their gift was not unique amongst the Dalish clans, who sent a whole collection of them, except in one respect. The Lavellan Clan had sent theirs with a severed stone paw as well, along with a personal note from a very angry father declaring vengeance. Solas kept it on his desk as a reminder. Not that it was necessary. There were few days when he did not think of her. And fewer nights.
At the Conclave a female elven woman acting as a liaison for Clan Lavellan found herself the unlikely hero for all of Thedas when she alone survived a cataclysmic event. As the only person who could stop the skies from being torn apart, she rose to become a legend known as the Herald of Andraste and the Inquisitor. But he had known her as 'ma vhenan' or 'my heart' in the common tongue.
A heaviness settled upon his heart whenever he thought of her. She was not something he allowed himself to think about for the pain it caused. But there were times when that was impossible. At night, while he dreamed, she tried to reach him in the Fade, and though he eluded her presence, he always felt the familiar pull of her spirit seeking him out. A pull that he had to resist, no matter what he wished. His path was set before him now and she must have no part in it.
The severed stone paw before him was a reminder of what he had taken from her; what his failures had cost.
The meeting was set and the day came for the ambassadors to arrive. He watched the arrival of the escort with interest from the front dais before the entrance to the castle. And a fair degree of wariness as well.
Bedecked in all their clan colors and ornamentation custom to each clan, they were a spectacle amidst the uniform armor of the Elven Sentinels lining the path. Some of his court had lined up behind them as well, curious to learn more about this anticipated meeting of the Council's ambassadors.
The Council's confirmation had said very little about who would be handling the negotiations, only that two would be sent with an armed escort comprised of a warrior from each of the clans represented by the Council. Two was a curious number of ambassadors as well. They had been listed only by their titles: The Peace Keeper, the position typically held by one who facilitated the Council meetings and tracked the discussions.; and the Ambassador, although the translation of the original word could also be debated as 'Sacrificial One' or 'One Divinely Chosen' which he found amusing.
He suspected the Peace Keeper was the one who approached bearing the black cloak and a sash with the different clan colors woven into it. The Ambassador, he presumed, was the other. Clad all in white and hidden under a hood, the Ambassador certainly looked like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter.
They were stopped at the courtyard and dismounted. The figure wearing the colors of the clan got down first and offered a hand to the figure all in white. Even their boots and gloves were white, though the wear of travel showed with a light layer of dirt against the bottom of the cloak. There was something peculiar about the exchange, for the figure in white waved away the hand and dismounted without aid. Then the Ambassador removed something from the saddle bag on the hart and tucked it carefully under their left arm. The pair approached the bridge that guarded the palace entry and the guards disbanded the barrier spell to allow them to pass.
Their hoods cloaked their faces, which he could tell made the sentinels on either side of the walkway nervous. The pair stopped at the base of the stairs and the escort followed suit, planting their staves and spears firmly on the stone at attention. Both hooded figures knelt and bowed their heads as a Sentinel stepped forward and announced him. "Welcome, travelers and representatives of the Council of the Clans. You stand before Solas, known as Fen'Harel, The Dread Wolf, Banisher of the Evanuris, He Who Hunts Alone, The Great Wolf, Roamer of the Beyond, Shadow Walker, and Bringer of Nightmares. Here in his lands, none are slaves bound to false gods. All are free under his rule. We welcome you as honored guests."
The pair rose and the man in the black hood lowered it to reveal the face of an elf wizened and grey in his old age. "I am Alarion of Clan Ghilain. I am Peace Keeper to the Dalish Council of the Clans and am here to oversee negotiations in the hope that we may reach an alliance." He bowed his head, though his shrewish eyes did not leave Solas, who bowed his head in turn. "And this is the Ambassador selected by the Council to negotiate on behalf of their authority. But I am sure introductions beyond that are unnecessary," the older elf said, crinkling his brow in an expression Solas could not quite determine. But his gaze did not linger, for his attention had been drawn away as the Ambassador drew back her hood. He knew that face. He recognized those lips, the brilliant eyes, the soft locks of her hair. He had kissed those lips, traced the shape of her face with his fingers countless times, and held her close to his heart. After all this time it was not her name or her title of 'Inquisitor' that sprang to his lips, but 'vhenan,' for even now she was still his heart.
"No," she said, looking up at him, studying his face almost curiously. "There is no need for that. I come on behalf of the Council as their appointed representative. We seek an audience with Fen'Harel, that we may discuss the possibility of an alliance." Solas tried to read her face, but it was a mask to him now. She even referred to him as Fen'Harel. Why was she here? How had the Dalish decided to send the Herald of Andraste as their ambassador? He had thought he would never see her again. After their last moment together in the Crossroads, he had thought that was to be the last time he would set eyes on her before… He shook the thought from his mind. But a pain gripped his heart and refused to let go. How had she managed to smuggle herself all the way here without being recognized? Surely someone would have noticed…
His eyes traveled to her left arm, which while oddly stiff, carried a rectangular box beneath it. Gloved in white and covered by long flowing white sleeves, he saw why the others had not recognized the prosthetic arm and therefore failed to recognize the Inquisitor in their approach. She had played the game well enough to land upon his doorstep when he'd thought her hundreds of miles away.
Alarion cleared his throat, pulling Solas from his thoughts. "It has been a long road to travel here. We are most eager to begin negotiations. Although refreshment would also be appreciated," the Peace Keeper suggested, studying the two with interest.
"Of course. Please, follow me. Your escort will be provided for as well," Solas said, finding his voice again and turning to lead them through the halls of the castle.
He had anticipated a negotiation. He had even prepared for a fight, should the request have proven itself to be a farce. What he had not prepared for was her return. The air in his lungs had vanished at the sight of her and even now, the familiar sound of her steps unnerved him. It didn't feel real to him, that she could be here. He had stepped through the eluvian all those months ago with a shattered heart and the image of her watching him, hurt and helpless, turn away from her as his final act of betrayal burned into the back of his mind. But he had thought that was the end of it. Every time they rounded a corner he resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder at her to check that she hadn't been a mirage.
They entered the dining hall, lavishly dressed with fresh flowers and majestic tapestries. "Remarkable," Alarion said as they passed one that shimmered like the sun. "Wouldn't you say the craftsmanship of the tapestry is remarkable?" Alarion asked, turning to the Ambassador.
"Yes, indeed. Most remarkable. Fade-touched fabric, do you suppose?" she suggested.
"Oh yes, most certainly," Alarion nodded. "We recovered a similar specimen in a ruin once, though it was in a piteous state by comparison."
While Alarion stopped to inspect the tapestry more closely, Lavellan cast a glance over to Solas, as if he might offer an opinion on it, but when their eyes met Solas felt his thoughts far removed from the tapestry before them. "It is beautiful, don't you agree?" she prompted, tearing her eyes away from his gaze to the scene of a grand hunt.
"Beautiful indeed," he said, though it was not the tapestry he regarded as he said it.
They were seated at a polished table with gleaming silver pitchers of honeyed wine and iced water waited for the guests beside bowls of fresh fruit. Solas sat across from the two, still a bit dazed to see the familiar face across from him.
"You dress a beautiful table," Alarion said, admiring the flowers and the metalwork on the bowls that held the fruit. While his eyes lingered on the goblet, he did not reach forward to take a drink from it.
"Please, help yourself to refreshment," Solas said, gesturing to the spread of food upon the table.
Alarion's eyes crinkled at the edges as he forced a smile. "Customarily, by Dalish tradition, the host takes the first bite of food and the first sip of drink before the guests," Alarion replied.
"He is only being polite, Keeper. His ways are not ours, remember," she said with a smile, reaching for a goblet of the honeyed wine.
Alarion's eyes flared with concern as she brought the goblet to her lips. His hand gripped hers suddenly with surprising strength, preventing her from tipping the goblet to drink. "We have our traditions for a reason," he hissed before casting a nervous eye at Solas.
"Fear not," Solas replied, reaching across the table and taking up the goblet Lavellan had just set down. He brought it to his lips and drank.
A small smile curled at the edge of Lavellan's lip as she watched him drink from her goblet. "See, Keeper. I told you not to worry. He will not poison us. He doesn't need to."
A shadow passed over Solas's face as he set her goblet back down and sat. While her words offered little comfort to Alarion, she remained unbothered and took a bite of the soft roll.
"You have no reason to be afraid so long as you are guests here," Solas said, taking a strawberry from the bowl before him and biting into it, turning his gaze to Lavellan.
It still took Alarion several solid minutes of monitoring Lavellan before he took a sip of water and a bite of bread.
"How was your journey here?" Solas asked, cutting and taking a bite from his meat. His eyes went to Lavellan, who took a sip from her wine, returning his gaze over the rim.
"It was not too terrible. We only ran into one group of bandits and they were not well equipped. They ran away quickly once the dust settled."
"Speak for yourself," Alarion chimed in, stabbing at a pomegranate with his knife. "I was thrown from my hart when the bandits showed up. Good thing the warriors were there. And you, of course," he added to Lavellan, who smirked at him tacking her on as an afterthought.
"Yes, the Peace Keeper is not overly fond of extended travel. He complains a good deal. Not as much as Varric or Sera, but nearly."
"Yes, how fairs Master Tethras and… Sera?" he asked, watching as she picked at the zucchini slices around her plate.
"They're quite well, last I'd heard. Varric has been appointed Viscount of Kirkwall and is busy writing a new novel. Cassandra is desperate to get her hands on a copy, but Varric is making her wait until he's done a round of editing. But I think he's going to kill off her favorite character and he's trying to spare her the loss by making up excuses. Sera is doing fine with the Jennies. She's been experimenting with different types of bombs again. I don't think the spider grenade was quite to her satisfaction. They ended up scurrying away from the enemies instead of attacking them. Much to my relief."
It almost made him smile, but there was something in her manner that kept him on edge. Something he couldn't quite place. He noticed that her eyes didn't light up the way they used to when they were together in an easygoing conversation like this. Too much lay before them now. Perhaps it was the truth. Or perhaps it was the war between them. The reasons why were many, but that did not help ease the pain in his heart as he ached for that warm smile. "I am glad to hear they are well. I imagine you were relieved the spiders didn't work out for Sera's plans."
"Definitely. The last thing I need to worry about is accidentally knocking into her and finding myself covered in creepy crawlies." She abandoned her fork and reached for a strawberry, biting into it.
"Is the meat not to your liking?" he asked curiously, as she had left a whole roasted potato and a ham steak untouched upon her plate.
"I'm sure it's delicious. But I'm afraid I'm not very good at cutting my meat and vegetables these days," she said, raising her prosthetic with its stiff hand. "And thought it might be poor table manners to gnaw on it."
Immediately regretting his words, he rose and pulled her plate over to his side and took up his own knife to cut it for her. "Yes, of course. Allow me to assist."
Alarion froze, his food halfway to his mouth as he watched a god cut her food for her.
"Thank you. That is very kind," she said quietly. "Keeper, would you mind… Ah, thank you," she said as Solas passed her the gravy boat.
Alarion continued to watch the interactions with a curious eye as he ate his meal.
They spoke little as they ate, and when they did speak, it seemed to be little more than idle chit chat. But the intensity of the tension between them was palpable. It was a dance, between the two of them, saying nothing as they circled around the larger unsaid things that lay at the heart of the matter.
"I don't suppose you would be willing to let an old elf rest for a time before we begin negotiations? The road was long and now with my belly full, I would like nothing more than to rest," he said, blotting his mouth with the napkin.
"Of course. You both must be exhausted from your journey. Your accommodations are already awaiting you. If you'd like-"
"I want for nothing save a place to rest my head at the moment. Now, Ambassador," he paused and rested a hand on her shoulder as he got up from his seat. "No starting negotiations before I wake up." He held up a hand to signal a nearby elf waiting to attend to their needs. "Please, if you'd be so kind as to show me to our accommodations, I would be most grateful." The elf bowed his head and led the way.
When Alarion was gone, silence reigned for a time as the two were left alone.
"Do you wish to retire as well?"
She shook her head. "No. I am not tired. I-" she started to say something, but then thought better of it. "I am not tired."
He was quiet then, watching her as she ran her finger around the rim of the goblet. Though it hurt him to remember how she looked the last time he had seen her, he was relieved to see that she was well now. Despite the loss of her arm, her health seemed to have returned to her. After the damage of the anchor… he hadn't been certain if there would be lingering damage throughout the rest of her body. "You look well," he said.
Her finger paused on her goblet and she settled it in her lap instead, trying to keep herself from fidgeting. "Thank you. I am well. Are you well?"
"Yes. Yes, I am well."
"Good. Good." She took another sip of water as her mouth went dry. Setting down the water goblet, she bumped the package next to her with her elbow on accident. Remembering, she said, "Oh, I almost forgot. I brought something for you."
"Did you?" He sounded surprised.
"Yes. It's customary to bring a gift as a sign of good faith when entering into negotiations in Dalish clans. Here," she stood up and carefully edged the prosthetic hand under the box to help support it. Rising from her seat, he followed suit and rose as well, meeting her halfway around the table. "I thought you might like it," she said, passing it over to him. Their hands touched and her heart hammered in her chest. Their eyes met briefly before they both looked away.
Solas tugged the knot holding the white cloth wrappings to reveal a rectangular wooden box of fine quality. He opened the box and inside found intricately carved chess pieces and a beautifully crafted wooden foldable chess board. Taking one of the pawns up, he noticed all the figures had pointed ears.
"Each piece was made to represent a different clan. That's why the details are a little different. Made by the finest Dalish craftsman as well. Do you like it?" she asked, her voice quieter. It still felt strange to be this close to him. Unable to bring herself to look him in the eye in that moment, she focused on his hand as he inspected the piece. And then he smiled and she felt her heart lift at the familiar expression.
"I do. Would you care for a game? It has been some time since I played."
"Certainly. Although, we may need to clean up a bit first to clear a space," she said, looking back at the table.
"Come. Follow me. I know a better place." He tucked the box under one arm and led her down a series of hallways and then out into a private courtyard garden.
Flowering vines hung down from the walls and the terrace offered a view of the valley down into thick trees. Beautiful flowers with bright colors and sweet fragrances bloomed in planters along a winding path. He led her down one of these small paths until they reached a small table and two curved benches. Bushy pink-flowering shrubs gave way to overhanging wisteria.
He gestured to the seat opposite and she took her place, hating that she found the location so romantic and pleasant. She didn't want to be at ease with him. But as they sat down across from one another, the familiar comfort returned as if time and circumstance had no meaning in this place.
Solas opened the board and carefully began to pull out the pieces, inspecting each one with care as he placed them in their spots. He paused when he pulled out the white queen marked by the crest of clan Lavellan. "I didn't expect to see you again," he said softly, raising his gaze to hers.
"I know," she murmured. "I thought that the time I saw you…" she faltered as a lump formed in her throat and she tore her eyes away from him. "I was afraid it would be under much more dire circumstances," she admitted, trying to swallow the lump.
"I feared the same," he replied, for it simply was the truth. He saw no reason to lie to her now. He had never wanted to lie to her about who he was and what his plans were once he understood her character. But to admit the truth by then… would have ruined everything. "I am curious to know how the Herald of Andraste came to be the Ambassador for the Dalish Council."
She sighed, tucking her hair back behind her ear. "It's a long story."
"Chess can be a long game."
This made her smile a little. "Yes. It can be. But I am out of practice."
"Then we may have even more time," he teased.
"True. I suppose the short and simple answer to your question though, is that I sought them out when the fighting started, convinced them to call a Council meeting, and was then appointed Ambassador."
"It was that simple?"
She laughed and shook her head. "No. No, of course not. It was the hardest thing I've done in a long time. Even getting my own clan to listen to what I had to say was almost impossible. And that was only the first step."
"Because of your title as the Herald of Andraste?" he asked.
A shadow fell across her face. "No. Because I'm bare-faced now. Which is typically punished with excommunication from the clan." Guilt and anger coursed through him like burning fire. "The Dalish do not know the truth of the vallaslin."
"No, they don't. Which is why it took much convincing for them to hold an audience with me. They thought I had renounced my clan."
"But they listened?"
"Yes. Thankfully, my Keeper listened to me and what I had learned. She knew I would not lie about such things. We spoke for a long time before I had even convinced her that what I said was true."
"And what did you tell her?"
She tucked her hair back behind her ear. "I told her the truth. Everything that I had seen, learned, read, and experienced over the last few years."
"Meaning?" His heart grew cold in his chest.
She met his hard stare unflinchingly. She was many things, but afraid of him was not one of them. "Precisely what I said. I told the truth. The same truth I shared with the Council."
"What truth is that?" he asked quietly.
"The truth about who you are. What our histories got wrong. The truth of the vallaslin, the history of the Evanuris and the threat they pose. That you plan to tear down the Veil and reunite the waking and dreaming worlds."
He felt the mask harden upon his face and when his eyes fell upon her there was a dangerous warning within. "And the Dalish believed you?" That was the part that did not align. To arrive back bare-faced, the Herald of Andraste and companion of Fen'Harel? Even the Dalish would find such claims far-fetched.
"No. Not many did. But the Council gathered and listened, eventually," she grumbled, rubbing her temple. It had been hard fought to even reach that point. Dragons were easier to fight than a crowd of Dalish Keepers. "They didn't want to listen to me. Many branded me a heretic and a liar. Some said worse. Most didn't want to hear a word I said. But when I told them I knew you personally, they listened. Even if they did not trust me entirely, they knew it would be foolish to turn away information on their enemy. Telling them was not enough to sway many, but when they joined me in the Fade and walked through my memories, they started to listen to me seriously."
"You shared your memories with them? Which memories?" He suspected that there were many she would keep to herself. Particularly those of a more intimate nature. He had little doubt that the Dalish would hold little regard for one who had succumbed to the Dread Wolf.
"The ones that mattered. How you helped people in the fight against Corypheus. How you helped me recover artifacts and knowledge of the elven people. It may not matter to you, but those contributions matter a great deal to my people and our history. I showed them the Temple of Mythal. And the Crossroads. And your admission to me when we last spoke."
"And they believed you then?"
She shook her head. "No. Many think that I was corrupted by the Dread Wolf. They remain distrustful of the information I presented, though I think there was enough truth that they at least decided it was worth sending me here."
"And what is your aim while you are here?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she said softly. "Peace."
"A goal many claim to seek, yet few truly want."
"Do you doubt me?" she replied with measured calm.
"No," he whispered. "Your intentions I do not doubt. It is the Dalish I doubt."
She sighed. "And you are right to do so. I cannot pretend that my truth will undo centuries of belief. But there is power in symbols. Even a meeting such as this is significant."
"How so?"
"Because it means you agreed to meet with us. To speak and be heard. Few gods speak to those that believe. Fewer listen."
"I am not a god."
"Aren't you? Fen'Harel is still a god to the Dalish. I grew up believing I would incur the Dread Wolf's wrath if I was not careful. And I saw you against the Qunari and the Viddasala. You turned them to stone without so much as a thought. Not even Corypheus had such power. Or Hakkon. Fighting men is one thing, fighting a god or someone who possesses the power of one is another."
"That has not stopped the Dalish from trying. Or others," he added.
"No. But they also do not understand. Fear stems from chaos and the unknown. Education and communication can help combat this. Which is why I am here. To learn more."
"You assume I will help aide you in this quest. Do you think that by agreeing to an alliance I will simply welcome you into my plans? I thought I made it quite clear when last we spoke that I had no intention of telling you more than was necessary. I will not see you walk down my path."
She smiled to herself. "Yes, I know. And you are foolish enough to believe you have any say in the path I choose. Though, if you wanted to stop me, I have no doubt you could."
"I would not force you to do anything you did not wish. I would not hurt you."
"I know," she said gently. "It was how I convinced the Dalish to send me as their ambassador. Even if they would rather have another represent the Dalish, they sent me and Alarion instead."
"Because they think I will listen to you without risking your life?"
"Not quite. Many of them don't know what to expect at all. But I am easily written off if that is the way negotiations end," she smiled darkly. "If what I told them is true, and you are a reasonable person, and not a vindictive god set on absolute destruction, then they believe that I may stand a chance at ending the fighting."
"You have such faith in your people? Will they not assume you are acting as one of my spies? Or that I have been manipulating you into infiltrating the Council for my own gains?"
"I'm sure there are some who suspect that. And others who believe me cursed or under some terrible enchantment. But you forget that I have a reputation for besting gods before. That has earned me the respect of some. And the fear of others. People will believe what they will. I can not make them believe my intentions are my own if they do not wish to believe it."
"Yet you are here on their behalf to secure an alliance. Why waste your efforts on those who would not do the same for you?"
"Because they are still my people. I do not need them to believe me to do what is right by them. They believe the tales of Fen'Harel the betrayer, the liar. But I believe you are a worthy man. And I do not want to see my people die at the hands of the Evanuris or in pointless raids against your forces. You must understand, they believe that you are the villain who locked away gods they revered. If you bring down the Veil and release the Evanuris, the Dalish will flock to them. And they will be enslaved and slaughtered in new wars. If you have been honest with me, you know what I say is true. Can you not understand why I am here? Why I must change their minds and secure an alliance before the real enemies come down upon us? Is there nothing you would not do to save your own?"
Her words echoed in his ears, so very similar to the ones he had said to try and make her see why he must bring down the Veil. And now she was here, begging him for understanding. "I do," he said.
"Then you know I am prepared to sacrifice all I have left for them."
"You may still fail to persuade them. The Dalish are stubborn in their beliefs. How do you intend to convince them an alliance with Fen'Harel: the liar, the betrayer, and the trickster, is worth anything at all?"
"By proving you to be the man I believe you to be."
He lifted his gaze to hers. Within them he saw the man she believed him to be: a hero, a redeemer, a man worthy of her faith in him. "And if I am not the man you believe me to be? If that man is gone? If I am indeed the villain the Dalish paint me as and you find your impression to be a lie? What then?"
"Then I shall do my best to help you remember him. You are many things, Solas, but a villain is not one of them. I may be a fool to believe it, but I have carried you in my heart for far too long to believe that of you."
"Do you carry me in your heart still?" The words were barely more than breath, fragile and delicate.
Her heart caught in her throat. "I do not know. I do not know if you are still the same man that I loved. Or if you are someone entirely different."
He kept his eyes down at the board, but her words slipped in like a knife between his ribs. "I thought you were here to convince the Dalish I am not the monster they believe."
"I said I would try to prove it. But if you are not that man any longer; if Mythal's essence has changed who you are… Then I am wrong."
He looked up at her, a severe set to his jaw. "Is that your theory?" he accused.
"It is one possibility. Morrigan found Flemeth's corpse. Turned to stone like the Qunari. It was not hard to put the pieces together. I only wonder, if you did take her power, was it as a willing host to Mythal, or did you somehow take her power for yourself? Or perhaps I am wrong entirely."
"I am not Mythal," he told her. Let there be no mistake. He did not want her to think that. He had been himself, wholly and truly, when they last met and now.
"No. But she must not be truly dead then. You said yourself that the first of your kind do not die so easily. If that is the truth, then some part of her must remain. The only question is where. If you are not Mythal, and you are still Solas, then there is hope for my people."
"You fear Mythal?"
"I do not know Mythal. I know Solas. Or I did, once. I'd like to know who you are now."
"And if you find I am the Dread Wolf in truth?"
She sighed. "Then I have doomed my people and all who put their faith in me. And this was all for not."
"A risky gamble," he commented.
"Sometimes a gamble is worth taking, even if the risk is high."
"Indeed. It may cost you everything, yet you are here." He looked up at her, pained. "Why did you come?"
Biting back the ache in her heart she told him, "I could not stay away."
"There is no going back from this. You cannot take back what you said. Vhenan, do you realize what you have done?" His hand slid over his mouth, eyes shut tight. Had she damaged her own reputation, her legacy, by putting her faith in him?
Though his words hurt her, calling her 'vhenan' sparked a small flame of hope within her. A simple slip, but a telling one. He had used it during their last meeting, two years after he had vanished without a trace. She had not forgotten that. "I know. But it was my choice. I am putting my faith in you once again, Solas."
"You should not." He shook his head. "I never wanted you to risk your life. I wanted you to stay away. I wanted you to remain safe."
Despite his heavy words, a small smile tugged at her lip. "You must know me better than that, Solas." She looked up at him. "There is no place that will be safe when the Veil falls. My life is my own to risk. And I would gladly risk it if it meant saving you."
Sighing, she returned her attention to the board. His pieces had her trapped. It was only a matter of time at this point. She extended her hand, head bowed. "I surrender."
He stared at her hand for only a moment before he reached out to accept it. And then he was on his feet and pulling her to him, threading his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head as he kissed her deeply. The shock on the gesture only lasted a second before she was kissing him back. It was as if no time had passed. Her lips remembered his with eager wanting and her body melted against his, craving contact. His left hand released her and went around to her lower back, pulling her to him. Delicate fingers slid up his chest, resting over his heart. Solas pulled back, breaking the kiss, breathing hard as he tried to regain his senses. "I'm sorry, I should not have-"
"I am not sorry. Please, kiss me again."
And he was too weak to resist her beckoning for more. He lowered his lips to hers, capturing them once again. But the kiss was slower this time, unhurried as they gave in to the familiar comfort of one another. When Solas pulled away, he touched his forehead to hers, keeping his eyes closed for just a little longer, wanting to keep the moment from ending.
He knew, in the back of his mind, that he shouldn't have given in and kissed her. Kissing her was a slippery slope to places he could not venture. But she was his weakness. He could not resist her gentle spirit, pulling him in like a moth to the flame. He knew it was dangerous. But he wanted her; he wanted to be the good she saw in him.
Lavellan's hand brushed against her lips, still tender from the kiss. She should not have kissed him. She should not have told him her feelings so freely. She should have restrained herself. Where was her willpower and self-control? She stepped back, eyes fluttering open as she realized what she had just done. He had kissed her. And she had kissed him back and then asked him to kiss her again once he had stopped. She looked up at him to apologize, but the words never reached her lips. The intensity with which he gazed down at her brought back memories of nights spent wrapped in his arms. Banishing the thoughts and memories from her mind with considerable effort, she forced herself to step back again, to put some distance between what she wanted and what she must do. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I did not mean-I could not-Forgive me."
He straightened his posture and placed his hands behind his back. "No, it is I who should be apologizing to you. I should not have done that."
She covered her mouth, confused. "I don't even know if you're still you or someone entirely different," she whispered, admonishing herself for her actions.
Her words stung, but he understood her confusion as his own guilt rose in his chest. He had lied to her about the full extent of his true identity, misleading her throughout their relationship to believe he was little more than an elven apostate. Now he was, in many ways, someone new to her. A person she did not know, who may not be as trustworthy as the man she to whom she had once given her whole heart. "I understand. You need time." He said nothing more, though he wished he could convince her with mere words alone that he was still Solas. But he could not deny that he was also Fen'Harel. His reputation therefore as a liar and deceiver would render the words obsolete if he tried to convince her he was still himself.
"I need time to think," she admitted, biting her lip and avoiding his gaze.
"Yes. Of course. Let me show you to your quarters." With a wave of his hand he used magic to right the chess board and replace the pieces in their starting positions.
He led her back into the castle and down several halls until they reached the door, which he opened for her. "If you require anything, an attendant will be waiting just down the hall."
She nodded in acknowledgement, lingering in the doorway.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?"
She shook her head. "No, only…" Glancing up, she met his eyes, and before she thought better of it, she raised herself up and kissed his cheek. "Good night… Solas."
He tilted his head curiously as she slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. For a moment after the door shut, he stayed, looking past the door with a pang of longing. His feelings for her were still unchanged after all this time. Turning around to leave, he felt the lingering touch of her kiss burning against his cheek long into the night.