Lost and Found
By Pyreite
Sequel to: The Vagrant
Chapter 2 – To Seek is to Find
It took hours to calm him. It was midday when he was finally capable of speech. It was another hour before he could form coherent sentences that didn't end with him sobbing. His eyes were red-rimmed from weeping, the whites bloodshot. Solas reeked of salt, sadness, and regret.
"Come with me", he begged. "You need a place to rest. I can provide a roof and a bed. I know things between us were tense when you left. I acted rashly, but all I wanted was to keep you safe".
"I know", said Ellana. "So I left and didn't return until now".
He was hopeful. "Then something has changed. Or you would not be here".
"Everything has changed. My perspective most of all".
"Will you stay?" he asked with trepidation. "You are welcome in New Arlathan".
Ellana considered his offer. It was more than she'd expected. Thedas was still vast and unexplored. Not every corner of the map had been exposed in the last thousand years. There were shadows aplenty to hide in if one knew where to look.
"That's generous of you", she replied. "What makes you think I'd accept? I didn't want to see your city the first time you asked me to visit. Are you hoping that I've changed my mind? You're more persistent than I'd expected".
The bluntness of her reply stung.
"Your hut is gone. Where would you go?"
She could go anywhere she wanted to with wings of her own. Solas knew that and feared she'd take flight again. The first time she'd learned to fly. He'd not seen her for decades, the second time she'd disappeared without a trace. It was a miracle that she'd thought to pass through the Frostback mountains at all.
Her reply left him ill at ease.
"Further north to Seheron, perhaps even west to Antiva. I hear Rialto Bay is beautiful come spring. Josephine would gush about the boats in the harbour. Do you remember?"
"Yes", he said with a heavy heart, recalling their happier days in the Inquisition. "I do".
Moments passed in an awkward silence. Ellana saw the worry etched into the lines of his face. There were bags under his eyes, the skin sallow. He hadn't slept well in years, the insomnia a constant companion. There were wrinkles between his brows, on his cheeks, and at the corners of his mouth.
He'd aged in the last thousand years, growing more haggard with each century. Silver hairs peaked across his temples, growing amidst the black in flickers of white. He had that eternal elven youth, though decades of lost sleep had carved away a chunk of his life. He looked old and worn out, even if he lacked a shaggy white beard. It was plain to Ellana that he felt the lingering ache of every year that he'd lived.
"You look terrible", she told him with that the tactlessness of a Dalish peasant. "I've seen mabari with less grey around their muzzles. You were hale if bedridden when I left you dozing in the tent outside my hut. Cole stayed to take care of you. What happened?"
Solas was offended by her phrasing. The casualness of her question filling him with fury. "You left and did not return! You promised that you would come back to me in fourteen days! Fourteen not three hundred and sixty-five thousand! What did you expect would happen?"
His outburst didn't have the desired effect. Ellana was neither upset nor apologetic. She regarded him with an infuriating calmness reminiscent of Flemeth. She blinked, unfazed by his show of temper. Her answer was succinct.
"I'd hoped you'd get on with your life, instead of wasting it looking for me".
Solas' lips peeled back from his teeth. He glowered at her, a thousand years of frustration bubbling out of him. "How can you be so callous? I have spent centuries fearing that Elgar'nan haunted your steps like a shadow! Relentless in his pursuit!"
Ellana arched an eyebrow. She regarded him with disdain, lifting her nose into the air. She'd always hated it when he got defensive. It was an irritating facet of his personality. Behind that shrewd intelligence was a fretful self-centred prig with an ego to match.
"I never asked you to do that. I was quite capable of looking after myself. I had Abelas, the sentinel elves. What ever made you think that I needed your protection?"
"Mythal and I were allies for millennia!"
"She died, Solas. I wasn't eager to let history repeat itself".
He sucked in angry breath. "What happened to her is not my fault! She was betrayed by the Evanuris! Murdered!"
"Now she lives again through me", concluded Ellana. "I know it's difficult for you to accept, but I had to leave you. We both did. You wanted to hold onto us with a possessiveness that was suffocating. I was grieving and I needed the time, space, and distance from you to rediscover who I was".
"I loved you! I needed you!"
"You loved the thought of me. Of us. You needed Mythal. That's why you kept Morrigan inside a box for five hundred years. That Mythal and I are now one in the same doesn't mean either of us have forgiven you".
Solas' breath hitched. He was close to tears again. It was agonising to hear the truth. She spoke with the voice of the woman he adored, but the wisdom behind it belonged to Mythal. The weightiness of that realisation hit him hard.
"Then why did you return?"
She deflected his question with one of her own. "How long has it been since you've left your city?"
"Why?"
"How long?"
Solas didn't like the way she poked and prodded him. "A decade, perhaps two".
"Are you sure it isn't closer to centuries?"
He went quiet, refusing to confirm her accusation.
Ellana pitied him. She knew that what she'd said was true. In a thousand years he hadn't left the sanctuary of New Arlathan. He hadn't bothered to look beyond the boundaries of the city he'd built on the Amaranthine coast. How much of Thedas had he ignored in his determination to find her?
Above ground or below, she doubted he'd known about what'd happened in Kal Sharok. Or further north in the ruins of Weisshaupt. The Sixth Blight had all but wiped out the Order of the Grey Wardens. It was a miracle the last of their forces had overcome Razikale before the end. The search for Lusacan before the advent of the Seventh Blight had come at great cost too.
"You haven't left New Arlathan in a thousand years. Have you?"
Solas' reply was bitter. "I was searching for you!"
"I didn't want to be found. I was a rogue and a huntress before I became Mythal. The shadows have always been a comfort to me. I know how to hide. Your search was for naught".
"You have responsibilities to our people as I do! You cannot abandon them!"
"I was hiding from you not them. I would do so again if I needed too".
He was infuriated by her admission. "That is not fair!"
"Darling", countered Ellana. "Life isn't fair. I know that best of all".
"Darling?" he repeated, startled by her choice of words. "That is a title meant for one's child or beloved. You toy with me. Do not".
She was puzzled by his response. "What're you jabbering about?"
"The endearment. Do not say such things to me. I know that you do not mean them. We were close when we were part of the Inquisition. We have not been that way since".
She studied him for several moments, sensing the depth of his discomfort. He shifted from foot to foot, a habit when he was nervous. The fingers of his hands were next. The occasional twitch of his thumbs a telling sign. He was uneasy in her presence.
"No", agreed Ellana. "We have not. Forgive my oversight. I'd forgotten that we're supposed to be fighting like two cockerels in a coop. Must we re-establish the pecking order?"
Solas gaped at her in disbelief, unsure if she was teasing him or being serious. "That was a poor attempt at sarcasm".
She snorted as if he'd said something humorous. "It wasn't meant to be a jab at your dignity. It's a truth I came to realise thanks to Mythal. I have ceased to be angry with you about the tearing of the Veil. It was a miscalculation on my part to believe that I could've changed your mind".
"I was determined to save my people".
"At the expense of my own. I know. I lived through it".
"Ellana".
"Don't apologise. It's water under the bridge. Neither of us can change the past. I have mourned my dead. I could not help the living if I dwelt on what was instead of what can be".
Solas was almost too afraid to ask. "Am I forgiven?"
"No. I have an excellent memory", stated Ellana without conceit. "Let's say that being stuck with Flemeth for a millennia improved my opinion of you. She's quite persuasive, although Morrigan thinks she's a nag. I'd tend to agree if I didn't like her so much".
"Is that why you returned to Fereldan?"
It was a loaded question. Ellana almost refused to answer. Solas had an expression of such hopefulness upon his face that for a single terrible moment. She wanted to break his heart, to dash his world to pieces. It was cruel and petty, yet well deserved for all he'd put her through.
She considered lying, yet Mythal's presence was a calming influence.
"I came back for you", she said at last. "I thought it was high time that I'd fulfilled my promise. As you've said. I'd pledged to return to you in fourteen days. I'm sorry to say that I've overstepped that mark by quite a bit".
"That is a gross underestimation", complained Solas. "But I am glad that you are here now".
She felt small, even vulnerable in that moment. His declaration scorching her to the bone. "Truly?" she asked in a small voice. "I'd thought you'd be furious with me. I'd apologise for my absence, but that'd be insincere. The truth is, Solas. I needed every single one of those years to come to terms with what'd happened to me".
He was quick to catch her meaning. "Because of Flemeth".
"Yes. You'll have to forgive me".
The most unlikely of circumstances was handed to him on a silver platter. Solas couldn't believe his luck. Although he was unsure of Ellana's sincerity. He trusted Mythal. If his beloved had returned to him at last than it was by Mythal's design.
"I will", said Solas, offering to meet her halfway. "If you return with me to New Arlathan. To the house I built for us. Even if you want nothing more from me. I would have you stay there in recompense for making me wait a thousand years to see you again".
He was astounded when Ellana agreed. "That's fair. All right. Let's go then".
He stared when she turned towards the sun. She regarded the clouds with a sense of delight. The smile on her face beatific. He'd never seen her so happy. It was strange, even terrifying to think that she was back in his life again.
He wondered how long she'd stay.
"Solas".
"Yes?" he called, roused out of his melancholy.
"Why are you still standing there? We should be leaving. Oh. I'd forgotten that you can't fly. That complicates matters".
He rolled his eyes. "Your Eluvian is still standing to the north. The farmers use it to go back and forth to the capital".
"To trade no doubt", assumed Ellana. "It'd save hiking a million miles to the Amaranthine coast with grain, goods and livestock".
"The farmers have families in the city".
"But you don't?"
The question caught him off-guard. "No. I have never married".
"A pity. You'd make a good husband".
Ellana got to her feet. She'd spent hours sitting beside the still slumbering ploughman. A simple farmer that snored like a druffalo on the bench outside his front door. She grimaced, wincing when the blood flowed back into her knees. She teetered at first, her footing unsteady until a hand gripped her shoulder.
"Ma serannas", she said, responding in kind.
She slung an arm around Solas' waist. The gesture making him tense like a coiled spring. Ellana felt the muscles along his spine ripple beneath his clothes. He'd kept himself trim during her long absence. She splayed her clawed fingers across his hip, kneading the taut tendons there.
She stilled the instant he caught her wrist. His blunt nails sliding across the surface of her scales. The left-hand she'd lost to the Anchor had been returned courtesy of Mythal. It was strange to feel the strength in his fingers, to hear the panting rasp of his breath. She'd never before noticed the way he smelled.
Like sandalwood with a hint of parchment, smoke, and ink.
But there was something else too. A peculiarity that'd set the ploughman's teeth on edge. It was familiar somehow, like recognising a long lost friend. What the slumbering farmer had found perturbing was a comfort to Ellana. She invited herself inside Solas' personal space, stepping into the lean lines of his body.
She took shelter there, turning her face into the curve of his neck.
She embraced him, uncaring that he was stiff as a plank of wood. She nuzzled into his clavicle, taking a deep breath. The tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Mythal wasn't the only one that'd missed him. She stood there, enjoying the feel and scent of him – the raw solidity that made him Solas.
"Ellana".
She roused at the call of her name, glad that he still remembered who'd she'd once been. It was impossible for her to distinguish between herself and Mythal. They were one in a the same now, yet in the earliest years of their merging. The duality of their nature had been a bewildering mess. Her own bitterness, rage, and grief had been echoed, recognised, and reflected by Mythal.
Although one constant had remained. An unshakeable trust in Solas, the man that she'd spent her life hating. Ellana's path to peace hadn't come easy. She'd been cut and bled too often in the last millennia for that to be true. Yet in time the bitterness had eased, the rage cooled, and the sorrow had been overcome.
She wasn't furious with him, but interested with a morbid sense of entitlement.
"What are you doing?" asked Solas with trepidation.
"I'm hugging you. You're making it awkward".
"It is awkward. You hate me".
She could feel the tension in his body. He was uncomfortable with her forwardness. He'd expected a knife in the back, not an armful of an amorous shapeshifter. She resisted the urge to sink her fangs into his shoulder. He smelt delectable enough to eat.
"I hated you", she corrected. "Past tense".
"That is far too lenient".
"Why?"
"You have every right to despise me", insisted Solas. "What I did to you was inexcusable".
"That was then and this is now. I have made my peace with the past. So must you".
He was alarmed when she asked him an inappropriate question.
"You smell really good. Can I bite you?"
"What? No! Ellana! Be serious!"
"I am being serious. You smell delightful. Good enough to chew on in fact".
Solas recoiled when he felt a warm, wet tongue slide across his throat. He jerked backward, trying to shove her away. Ellana held fast with a determination that sent them toppling to the ground. He landed hard on the farmer's hardwood porch. He wheezed, cushioning Ellana's fall as his legs tangled with hers.
She took advantage of his distraction.
Solas was soon caught in a compromising position. She sat astride him as if he were a horse. The gilded poleyns across her kneecaps digging into his hips. Her arse in his lap, the length of her calves against his thighs. Her hands gauntleted and scaled were braced on the floorboards on either side of his head.
He was astonished by the way she gazed at him.
Her golden eyes were wild and scorching. There was a heat in them that seemed as misplaced as it was misdirected. She was panting too. Her bosom heaving inside her studded cuirass. Her lips were peeled back from her teeth, her face a rictus of pain.
"Ellana".
"Don't say my name like that!" she hissed. "You're making it worse!"
"What?" called Solas in concern. "I do not understand! Are you ill?"
"No! Yes! Why did it have to be you? Damn it! I'm too close to my blasted cycle!"
"What cycle?"
Ellana was reluctant to tell him. Her own folk considered it a sign of good fortune. The celebrations they held in her honour were often boisterous affairs. Children aplenty were born in the months afterwards. Each one considered a blessing to be conceived during the Fireheart Festival.
She would've kept her tongue behind her teeth if Solas hadn't looked so terrified.
"It's Mythal", she growled, trying to maintain a coherent thread of thought. "The part of her, of us that's a High Dragon. In the wild they rise once every few centuries to mate and clutch. It doesn't happen often, but when it does I can't think straight. I should have noticed the signs when I turned south instead of north-west".
"Signs?" reiterated Solas with a sense of wonder. He'd never heard of this occurring with Mythal. "What do you mean?"
"To mate!" she cried. "Balls! Must I have it written on my forehead? It's draconic instinct! I can't ignore the part of my nature that's set in stone!"
Solas was astounded. "Is that why you came looking for me?"
"I'm here aren't I?" she snarled, irked by his ignorance. "I told you! I can't think when I'm running hot enough to burn through my breeches! I'm usually back home far enough within my own territory to find Revas! But he's half a world away and you were closest!"
He felt a twinge of jealousy. He had an idea of whom she'd meant. A tall silver-haired sentinel with eyes like amber. A man that'd shared her bed for close to three hundred years before she'd merged with Mythal. That their relationship had continued surprised and upset him.
"So Abelas has changed his name. Is he your husband?"
"That is a matter of contention".
"Why?"
Ellana rolled her eyes. "Solas", she grumbled, baring her fangs at him. "If it isn't obvious. I'd rather be doing something other than talking". She rolled her hips, grinding downwards hard enough to make him gasp. "What's it going to be?"
"I do not understand".
She glared at him, her lip curling. "You can't be that dense".
Solas stared at her, his black brows arching in surprise. "Do you mean to say that you want to lie with me?"
"I'm sitting in your lap. How much more obvious could I be?"
"Ellana".
She rolled her eyes. "Are you seriously going to think about whether I've propositioned you?"
"This is awfully sudden".
"Fenedhis!" she cursed. "I don't have time for you to get comfortable! Choose, Solas! Or I'll root around inside the walls of your city until I find a suitable mate! So if not you than it'll be one of your people!"
He couldn't believe her audacity. "You cannot invite yourself into someone else's bed! They could have a spouse! Children! You would destroy their family!"
"Then it'll have to be you!"
Her presumption offended him. "You cannot invite yourself into my chambers! We have not seen each other in a thousand years! You are being too bold!"
"Why not?" she challenged. "You offered me sanctuary. A roof and a bed. If that includes you bare-arse naked in the sheets than I accept".
His heart was in his throat. "That is not what I meant!"
"Are you rejecting me?"
Lifting a hand from the ground, she stroked his cheek with scaled knuckles. She paused when he trembled at her touch then averted his eyes. "I see", she told him, realising her error. "I would never force you, Solas. I will leave you then to find someone more willing".
Ellana relaxed her knees, lifting her calves from his thighs.
"My heat will pass in a month or so. If one of your folk is tied up for a few weeks. You'll at least know why. I'll endeavour to make sure they're unwed. I didn't come here to ruin families, but to make them".
She braced herself against the ground, shifting her weight onto her knees. She pushed upward, intent on rolling off him. She didn't get far when calloused fingers sank into the gaps of her breeches. The leather lattice binding the halves of black leather were an inadequate barrier. Her fangs clenched the instant Solas kneaded her bare skin.
"If we are to be joined in body, it will be for always", he warned, voice rough. "Do you understand? We will be wed, Ellana. Without a ring, a promise, or a ceremony. I will consider this union a permanent bonding".
She whined, biting her lip. "What makes you think that this isn't what I've wanted for centuries?"
Solas looked into her eyes, finding himself reflected there. "If I accept. You will stay with me. I will have all of you or nothing at all. I will not be second to Abelas, Revas or to whomever has shared your bed. I will be your husband – first in all things".
"That's unfair of you to ask!"
"It is what I need from you. Do you agree or not?"
"Solas".
"For always, Ellana. Not just tonight, tomorrow, or for the week that comes after. I would share a lifetime with you. I let Mythal slip through my fingers once. Never again".
"You could come with me", she wheedled, hoping to convince him otherwise. She didn't want to give up the lover she had. Revas had been good to her for centuries. Perhaps given time, she could convince Solas to share. If Mythal had bent him to her will than she could too.
"I have responsibilities. My people need me".
"Mine do too, but there may be a way for us to compromise".
"How?"
Ellana laid a scaled hand against his cheek. She stroked a clawed thumb over the swell of his lower-lip. She was entranced when he kissed her fingers. The tenderness in the gesture made her heart beat like a drum against her ribs. It was clear that he still harboured feelings for her.
"Tell me that which was never a lie".
Solas had wondered for centuries if she'd recalled their last conversation. It'd been a heated argument, an exchange of threats and lies. Yet somehow she wanted him to repeat what had never been untrue. The words came to me him as did the memory of his persistent weakness. It'd been a painful unpleasant day he'd tried to forget.
That was when she'd left him all alone.
To fret for a thousand years in the shadow of his own fears.
"Ma emma lath", said Solas with the confidence she remembered. "I have never stopped loving you".
"Yes", she acknowledged, smiling. "It still carries the same weight. I'd hoped you'd moved forward, started a family with someone. Been happy. But you could never do it, not even for yourself".
"I will now", he avowed. "With you at my side".
"Solas".
"There could be no one else. You are all I have ever wanted".
His words touched her heart. She'd never forget what he'd done, but time had softened her animosity. Mythal's influence once an annoyance, had become a source of constant reassurance. She was whole in a way she'd thought impossible as a simple Dalish huntress. Mythal had recovered what was left of her broken heart.
She was whole too.
"Ma vhenan", whispered Ellana. "Take me home".
"Ma nuvenin", replied Solas. "Although you'll have to let me up first".
She groaned in disappointment. "You mean that we can't start here?"
He was scandalised by her suggestion. "No, ma lath. I'd like a bath, a hot meal, and a bed beneath me before we shed our clothes".
"We could try in the bath. I like bubbles".
"Patience, ma vhenan. We will have time aplenty to explore. Now get up".
Ellana complied albeit with great reluctance. She was still pouting when he dusted himself off, got to his feet, and offered her his hand. A moment of tense anxiety passed between them. Solas feared she might refuse until a gauntleted hand slipped into his own. He was almost dragged off his feet when Ellana strode forward.
"Do you recall where the Eluvian is?" he asked, heels skidding in the grass.
"Of course I do", Ellana assured him. "Now come along. The sooner we get home, the sooner I can have you all to myself".
He snickered when she went the wrong way. "It lies to the north, vhenan".
"Stop smirking you smug, arse. I know where it is. I lived here for five hundred years. Remember?"
"I do, vhenan".