Translations, bottom.

Dawn

I opened my eyes in my chamber at Skyhold, Solas warm and solid beside me as my head rested on his chest. He had changed the time of day, either to give us darkness to sleep more comfortably, or to match the time in the waking world. There wasn't yet a hint of dawn on the horizon, so I hoped it was the latter.

Solas's hand trailed across my shoulder and down my side, taking a brief detour to stroke my breast before continuing down to my hip. "Good morning," he said, his sleep-roughened voice enough to send warmth coursing through me.

"Solas?" I said, pressing myself against him.

"Mm?" he responded, somehow making that little hum of mild interest sound impossibly erotic.

"I think I hate you for not letting me have more mornings like this," I sighed.

I could hear the smile in his voice: "I think I am grateful that you only hate me for a fraction of the things you ought to hate me for." He turned to face me, wrapping both arms around me and pulling me against his chest - and, in turn, against other parts of him that were also fully awake. "Please feel at liberty to ignore that, if you wish," he murmured in my ear. "Merely a consequence of the time of day - at least as much as anything else."

"And if I don't want to ignore it?" I asked.

I felt more than heard the low, satisfied rumble in his chest as he pulled my leg up to wrap around his hip and immediately slid into me. "You cannot know how many mornings I spent thinking of this - particularly when you began having nightmares," he said, resting his forehead against mine.

"You knew I was having nightmares?" I asked, momentarily distracted.

"As it was your habit to place your tent next to mine - yes. I could hardly avoid knowing, though I believe the rest of camp became aware by degrees, as well," he answered, brushing unconcerned kisses against my face as he told me.

"Oh," I said, making an attempt to think about it further, but instead finding myself lost in the pleasure of the moment. "But - " I said some moments later, as a realization dawned on me, "they started because of our expedition to the Deep Roads. The darkspawn and the Sha-Brytol - " Even now, remembering those bodies, flesh melting into their lyrium-infused armor, made me shudder. Solas's arms tightened around me in response, soothing away the horror recalled by the memory. "That was only just before you - before you ended things. And after that, with my tent - I didn't - I just let Harding direct me to a spot convenient for her, because I knew trying to decide how close was too close, and how far was too far, would drive me mad."

Solas did pause then, closing his eyes briefly. "Yes, well - I think you underestimate how often you cried out audibly, especially after I...did what I did. And those were, inevitably, the mornings I most ached to go to you." His fingers under my chin tilted my face up so he could kiss me. "Ir abelas. I understand now that I ought to have done it. Not - " he smiled faintly, "not to obtain this result, but simply to let you know that I still cared - that my choice was not a reflection of my feelings. I should never have allowed you to wonder for a single instant whether I loved you."

"No," I agreed, "you shouldn't have."

"Undelan na," he acknowledged, and then gave me a real smile. "I suppose I have no choice but to attempt to make it up to you."

His hips flexed, and I voiced my largely wordless approval.

As attempts went, it was enjoyable, and thorough, and though it made up for absolutely nothing, it kept my thoughts from the coming dawn. Neither of us was in any hurry for it to end, and so we went slowly, exchanging kisses and caresses as though we could make up for the years we had missed, or store them against the years we would never have. It wasn't enough. It could never be enough, and neither of us moved afterward, both trying to pretend that it hadn't been the last time, and that it wasn't over.

It was the edge of light gathering faintly on the horizon that forced me to acknowledge reality. This time, I summoned my own bath. Solas released me silently as the scented steam found us, and because I had promised to make this simple for him, I sat up and moved away of my own volition.

He followed me helplessly.

"You can join me, if you wish," I said, pleased my voice didn't waver, though I avoided looking at him directly.

"Yes," he answered simply.

He offered his hand to steady me as I stepped in - which both of us knew I had no need for, but it was a small, sweet gesture, and I accepted. He stepped in after me. I could already feel an ominous heaviness gathering in my chest, and so I immediately poured water over my head, ostensibly wetting my hair, but just as thoroughly drenching my face. Satisfied that any tears I shed would be disguised, I pulled a cloth from nowhere and began washing. After a moment, Solas reached for the soap and began working it through my hair.

Though I tried to resist the gentle pleasure of his fingers massaging my scalp, I found my hands stilling and my eyes falling closed as his fingers continued combing through my hair long past the point at which it was clean and ready to be rinsed. We were both keeping one eye on the advancing day, though, and he withdrew his hands moments before I would have asked him to stop. "You aren't making this easier," I whispered.

"Easier isn't an axis I am capable of manipulating," he retorted, and then wrapped one arm around me, pulling me back against him. "Withdrawing in an attempt to manage your grief now won't make things easier later, either, and I fear you may regret the wasted time."

I let out a slow breath, but it didn't help, so I took another and quickly submerged myself under the water, simultaneously rinsing my hair and smothering my tears. When I surfaced, Solas took me by the shoulders. I let him turn me to face him, and words simply began to pour out. "I have wanted even a single hour with you for such a long time - I don't know what to hope for now that this is ending. Now that - I have accepted I cannot save you, and that it's unlikely anything else will, either. Now that you have burdened me with this impossible task. What am I supposed to do now? Do I - simply return to being Inquisitor? Try to stop you? Begin...resigning myself to inevitable failure? Take a moment to kiss Cassandra and Leliana goodbye, and send whatever wishes I can convey to Josephine, Dorian, Bull, Vivienne, Cullen, and Varric? Why am I returning at all? Maybe - maybe it would be better to stay and die beside you."

Solas bowed his head, his fingers stroking my shoulders. "You are still so young, ma vhenan. My advice - if you want the advice of a fool who gave in to despair long ago - is to return and make it through the day. And then make it through tomorrow. And then the day after. Others will no doubt urge you to seek hope - but I would rather say: be open to hope finding you. It may. Eventually. Until that time, drag yourself forward in whatever way you can."

"That sounds miserable," I told him. Even I couldn't say exactly how much of the water running down my face was from my hair, and how much...wasn't. Still, my voice remained steady.

He looked up, meeting my gaze. "Yes," he agreed.

And somehow that acknowledgment was enough - at least for the moment. I laughed a little shakily. "Somehow you're still doing it - telling me what I need to hear."

He took my face in his hands and kissed me lightly. "Good."

The sun would crest the horizon in a matter of minutes. We rose from the bath. Solas helped me brush my hair, and then I braided it one-handed - loosely, as there was no other way to do it without a second hand. While I focused on that, Solas had spirits retrieve real clothing and my dagger. He began helping me dress just as the first sliver of the sun showed itself above the horizon. "We will be finished in a moment," he promised - and we were. I tightened my belt and slid my dagger into place, and the presence of a weapon made me feel more like Inquisitor - for better or worse.

I looked up at him. "I...think I'm ready."

"One thing," he said quietly, holding out his hand, his fist curled around something. I reached out to accept it, and he put a small cylinder carefully into my palm. "Evunehim," he said before I could ask.

I felt my eyes go wide. "Why?" I blurted out. "Do you want me to take it...now?"

Solas's eyes widened in turn, his expression mirroring mine. "No," he said quickly. "I...would very much rather you didn't. Take it now, that is."

I looked at the vial of evunehim resting in my hand. Dalish women used the potion to control their fertility. My clan, at least, had also treated it as a trade good. There were other remedies, but many used magic, which was expensive, and the rest were either considerably less effective or considerably more dangerous.

I studied Solas, trying to understand both the gesture and the current conversation. "You want to ensure I don't conceive," I hazarded.

"I...wish to ensure that you have full control over that decision," he corrected me carefully. "Evunehim is less potent - "

"I know," I cut him off. "I have, at one point or another, been involved in every stage of its production. I know. But I am the Inquisitor. It wouldn't be difficult for me to get this, very likely within a day. And even if I didn't - magical remedies...later...are not beyond my current means. I will have full control - " I stopped mid-sentence and studied him, trying to find a textual through line in what he had said. "Why don't you want me to take it now?" I asked, deciding that was the piece that I couldn't make fit.

He glanced uncomfortably toward his representation of the swiftly-proceeding dawn. "The hour grows late," he pointed out.

"Dawn was an arbitrary limit. It had a purpose, but this is more important," I told him, my voice impatient even to my own ears. I wished I had two arms so that I could cross them.

After another helpless scan of the room, he spoke. "If," he began carefully, "things were - different - we would have, or more likely would have had, a conversation about...children." He glanced at me, trying to judge my response. "I imagine we would have decided to wait - you are still so young," he added.

It occurred to me that I was a fool for never having given any of these questions a moment of thought - not so much the possible consequences of sex; I found had always assumed I would resort to evunehim or some other remedy - but rather that Solas might have any opinion on the matter.

Then again - considering our history, perhaps my assumption that he either didn't, or actively had no interest, was justified.

"You...would have wanted children?"

His ears were red. "I...hardly know. Before Enansal, I gave children in general so little thought, and he didn't make me consider you in that light - you never stood in as a mother for him. How could you? You are - perhaps - a dozen years older than he is? And we had so many other problems to consider - "

"I know," I agreed. "He didn't make me consider children of my own, either - but perhaps that was because I assumed they were inevitable. The Dalish, you know - "

"Teach it as part of your duty to the clan. I am aware," he finished for me. His hand sought mine, and it seemed he only remembered belatedly that I still held the evunehim. He let that hand drop, and instead placed the other on my hip, drawing me toward him. "I find I wish I were leaving something behind beyond a mountain of corpses, strings of broken promises, and a legion of unresolved dilemmas whose only hope of solutions must rest on the woman whose heart I am breaking for at least the third time."

"Fourth, by my count," I corrected him.

His hand slid to the small of my back, and he pulled me to him, resting his forehead against mine. "I cannot begrudge you the choice to make your future easier. I shudder at the thought of burdening you with a child in addition to everything else I have asked of you. But, no - I have no desire to see you take the evunehim."

"Then keep it," I told him, shoving it at him. "I don't want to take this last shred of hope from you any more than you want to - to ask me not to."

"Knowing you will return and call for another draught - " he began.

"But - you don't know that I will. I don't know that I will, so how could you possibly?" I interrupted. "I assumed I would, but if you feel this way, it deserves more thought."

"No," he growled. "No. Don't consider this for me. I can offer you nothing. The responsibility would be entirely your own, alone - "

My laugh interrupted him this time. "Alone? Just to start - many women, and plenty of men, too, are forced to raise children alone. It isn't exactly defeating a darkspawn magister, closing a hole in the sky, or walking physically in the Fade. I won't have to consider how to house or feed a child, and as things are, my moments truly alone are so rare as to be precious. What I mean is: there is very little assistance money can't buy, and I am not only Inquisitor, Varric also made me a comtesse in Kirkwall, complete with my own estate. At least until you drop the Veil, I am well-provided for. After - "

"You are also well-provided for," he agreed grudgingly. "Even so - this isn't a decision you should make for my sake."

"It isn't a decision I should make entirely for your sake," I corrected him. "Or perhaps - the decision to proceed shouldn't be made for your sake, but pausing to actually decide, rather than automatically choosing the simplest path? I see no reason you shouldn't be the impetus there."

"You don't want this," he argued. "If you wanted it, it would have occurred to you before this moment."

"Perhaps that's true," I replied. "A great deal has happened in the last day, though, and it wasn't as though a child belonging to the two of us was an option before this. It very well may not be an option now," I added thoughtfully. "One day? Bondmates more often try for months before they manage to conceive."

"True enough," he allowed, "but not something that ought to be left to chance."

I spent a moment weighing my next words. "Solas - I know you thought you didn't care for children before you met Enansal, and after it still seemed as though you perhaps cared for one, singular child, without any intention of generalizing the sentiment," I tried to explain. "You were resistant to having sex, or to any kind of explicit commitment - why wouldn't I assume that extended to children? I - I can picture in excruciating detail what it is like to tell a child one of her parents never wanted her. I would never want to be the one giving that explanation. So - finding out your feelings aren't what I thought, it - it entirely reshapes the field of possibilities. I don't know what I think, or what I want, because it never mattered until now."

I realized I had just revealed more about my childhood than he had ever been aware of, and saw he realized it, too. It wasn't a subject we had dwelt on - how could we, when he was so careful to avoid anything other than the vaguest references to his own youth?

One of his hands rose to cup my jaw. "Silea…"

"It isn't so uncommon," I told him, looking away. "Dalish are expected to procreate, and if they don't especially want the resulting responsibility - well, that is what the rest of the clan is for. My situation was unusual only in that my father was from another clan, and my mother died when I was still quite young, so there was some question of which clan would take me. I am told my father was...resistant...to the idea of my transfer to Clan Sabrae - which seemed to suit Deshanna very well anyway. I certainly had no desire to leave Clan Lavellan, at least not - " I broke off, realizing what else I was about to get into. "That was later, and different, and has no bearing on this conversation. None of this matters to this conversation. All that matters is that I have only had approximately five minutes to consider this new possibility, and I cannot make such a consequential decision in such a short period."

His hand left my face to close around mine, still pressed to his chest with the evunehim between us. He accepted the vial, stowing it away in a pouch at his belt that might or might not have existed prior to that moment, and I let my hand drop.

"I appreciate that you are trying to be supportive," I told him. "I simply don't require your approval to terminate this particular...possibility. I only require your buy-in to feel justified in maintaining it."

Solas let out a breath. "This still strikes me as fundamentally inequitable when I can offer nothing. I did, however, just finish telling you to be open to hope. If you discover that is what our child would represent for you, then - my misgivings don't apply and should be set aside." He said the last phrase reluctantly, as though it pained him, and I reached up to caress his cheek sympathetically. Regardless of whether he wanted to leave something worthwhile behind, I knew this would also represent yet another role he would be unable to fulfill as he wished to. "Y ir'isalan vyn in'ina inor'alas'enaan," he added, his voice quiet.

"Even if I agreed," I pointed out, "I would have to take shelter in the inor'alas'enaan now - before I have decided and before I know whether there is anything to decide. Besides, what would you do? Assign a midwife to live with me? And what if another pair of hands were needed? Or magic? If I end up having a child, we will both be safer if it comes into the world surrounded by all the resources the Inquisition can still marshal."

"A fair point," he said. "This is not a situation I have ever considered logistics for." He paused and I saw his mind working. Whatever he was thinking prompted him to pull me closer. "I will need to rearrange my forces somewhat," he muttered.

"Possibly," I corrected him.

"Certainly," he retorted, "at least until there is certainty."

"And...will you have someone report that information to you? Or...would you prefer - consider it safer," I corrected myself, "not to know?"

"That is a decision I will need to make," he answered, not meeting my eyes.

"Whichever way you decide," I told him, stroking his cheek again, "you will have good reasons, vhenan'ara."

"Ma serannas - but I only wish that were true, ara'lan." He leaned in and kissed me.

The endearment wasn't one he had used before. Among the Dalish, it was reasonably common between bondmates, but more common once they shared children. It could be translated several ways, as was often the case with Elven; my self or my blood might be the two best ways of capturing the meaning. I melted a little at hearing it, but, after the kiss ended, said: "Nothing has really changed."

"You failed to recoil in horror at the thought of sharing offspring with me," he offered lightly.

"Why would I? That would never have happened," I responded.

"Likely that seems obvious to you, but how was I to know?" he asked.

"Pattern recognition," I retorted, and he laughed.

We stood like that, holding each other, for another long moment. "Solas…" I sighed at last. I had, after all, promised to make this simple and relatively easy for him.

"Eolasan, ara'lan." He stepped away from me, offering his hand. I took it and Skyhold began to thin, becoming less substantial.

"Wait," I said. "I - don't want to watch this disappear."

He nodded, humoring me. "Then come - this way." He led me down to the door in my chamber, which opened onto the raw Fade.

I clung to his hand as we walked, the Fade streaming by more rapidly than anything I had ever managed in my journey to find him. "The memories you placed as lodestones," he said as we walked. "You may wish to revisit them."

"Oh?" I asked.

"A small gift," he said with a smile and a glance at me, "and a surprise, as well."

"That - assumes I know how to reach them again," I said. "Hopefully as I would go anywhere in the Fade?"

"Yes," he confirmed, sounding amused, "but you will find the passage between such memories goes by faster than you expect. They are, after all, meant to draw you - and they will do what they were laid to do."

"And what about Nehnadahlen?" I asked. "Is there any chance at all I would be able to visit it again, even without you?"

He looked surprised. "Some, perhaps. At least while you remain in Cumberland. I am uncertain, to tell the truth. You are not a mage, yet you have walked physically in the Fade. The imprint left on your spirit - its depth and clarity - is not a thing I can predict. But - the last two times you were here were periods of fear, your only goal escape. This time - this time may change you more significantly. I wish I could ask you about your experiences, going forward. I am certain they will be fascinating - and provide a wealth of information to anyone who knows how to extract it."

"Begin keeping a journal of my nightly travels in the Fade," I said. "Understood. Perhaps Dorian or Fiona might get some use from it."

"I wish them luck," Solas said, his voice heavy with irony.

We fell silent, and in a few more paces Solas stopped, the Fade firming around us as he did so. Somehow I recognized the place we had met, a little over a day before, even though in general the Fade all appeared much the same to me. I turned to face him. Looked up. Studied him.

"Are you memorizing me?" he asked.

"Too late to avoid that," I told him. "Apparently I know you even when you turn yourself into - are you still trying to convince everyone it's a dragon?"

He smiled wryly. "It is a dragon - of a sort."

"That's a yes, then. I wish you luck in that particular self-delusion," I teased him before sobering slightly, my smile becoming self-conscious as I shifted my weight. "Actually - I was trying to decide once and for all what color your eyes are."

"Does it keep you awake at night?" he asked, amused.

"Everything about you keeps me awake at night," I retorted, and then added: "I didn't mean it like that, or not just like that," when his lips stretched in a smirk. Predictably, I felt my cheeks warm. "I meant all the things I miss and all the terrible things you intend to do. But your eyes are one of the few things about you I have difficulty picturing at times, because even if I allow that perhaps they change color, I have yet to work out what prompts them to look more blue or more grey." Occasionally they even took on a nearly violet cast.

"I always thought them more or less colorless, if that helps," he offered.

"Colorless?" I scoffed. "You clearly haven't spent nearly as much time considering this as I have."

He smiled. "Clearly."

"I have admittedly spent more time thinking about it than it probably deserves," I conceded.

"Is that so? Ir abelas. It sounds as though my eye color is as frustrating as my character," he said, still amused, but also a little bit pleased to hear me admit how preoccupied I was with him.

I leaned in to rest my head on his shoulder, feeling the urge to laugh, although, at the same time, the subject felt much too fraught for laughter. "If only that were even remotely true, ara'len. I imagine I would be immensely happy if your character were only ten - perhaps even a hundred - times more frustrating than deciding your eye color."

His arms wrapped around me and he brushed a kiss against my ear before burying his nose in my hair. "I know, and I wish you had fallen in love with that man."

This time I did laugh. "I would only put up with so much frustration for you. So as long as you aren't that man, he's out of luck - whoever he is - where I'm concerned."

He brushed kisses down my face until he reached my mouth and captured it. Even as his tongue touched mine lightly, I felt the wash of energy, including the odd tingling sensation in my missing hand, that heralded a rift.

"Still possible for you to let me go, then," I whispered against his lips.

"No," he said, pulling away far enough to gaze into my eyes. The light from the rift made their color impossible to even attempt to decipher, now. "Nothing about you has ever been possible - least of all letting you go. I imagine that is why I have fared so poorly in all my attempts."

"Then I will make the attempt, this time," I said, gathering my resolve as I squeezed my eyes closed, pressed myself against him, breathed in his scent once more - twice more - and then released him and stepped away. His eyes, I saw, were glassy with unshed tears. I reached up to touch his cheek one last time, and his hand covered mine. "Ar lath ma, ara'len."

"Uthaansha, ma'sal'shiral," he replied.

I managed another step back, pulling my hand from his, and then another step, and then I turned to make my way through the rift. I emerged in a small alcove created by a decorative planting of trees beside the outer wall surrounding the College of Enchanters. I turned. Solas still watched from the other side of the rift, his image wavering as the tear rippled. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then he closed his eyes. The rift folded in on itself and disappeared.

I reached out my hand to lean against the wall, and fought back a tidal wave of tears. Not the time, I reminded myself. Carefully, one calming breath after another, I imagined folding up the grief into a neat package and putting it away for later. It would still be there when I had time - it would likely be there for the rest of my life - so there was no need to rush to address it. Then, once I was certain I had myself under control, I set about finding out exactly where I was, and where the front gate lay in relation to my position.

Undelan na: I wronged you

Y ir'isalan vyn in'ina inor'alas'enaan: But I very much wish you would shelter in the Crossroads

Eolasan: I know

Ara'len: Masculine form of "ara'lan"

Uthaansha, ma'sal'shiral: "Endlessly, my life." "Uthaan" implies a natural end bypassed or avoided, so he's either promising to continue, or expressing the hope that he continues, loving her even beyond the death or madness he expects to claim him.