When the group made camp at the end of their first day they were still near enough to Skyhold for Solas to find her in the Fade when she slept.
It was harder, the further she'd travelled, to bring himself into her dream; to communicate in a way she could understand. To find her in the first place. Sharing space with another dreamer, or pulling them into your own, took strength and focus. It required drawing on a well of power already in limited supply. Eventually, she'd move beyond his sphere of influence and be lost to him entirely. The more ground they covered in a day the less likely it was he'd see her at the end of it. Groping, mindless, in the deepest dark hoping to stumble onto the trail by accident.
But while she was near, she shone.
A lighthouse guiding him to safe harbour within a churning storm of memory. Her spirit was a star and she called to him… but not alone.
Curious wisps and young spirits explored the boundaries of her Dreaming wherever she rest, flitting in and out of the periphery to get a taste of something powerful. Connect to something important. He could walk the paths they forged while they played or prowled and locate her amid those pockets of chaos that otherwise should not be. There were footprints left behind. Ripples he could follow back to a source. But if she'd moved too far he was searching for a stone in an ocean; left standing on the shore hoping the waves would show him the way.
That first night he found her dreaming of a bonfire in a forest clearing.
Remembering.
Something the road must have inspired. Hazy and wine-drunk; a summer's night from a lifetime ago. It was a scene much quieter than the nightmares that had plagued her rest lately, and he was grateful she'd gained some control before she'd left.
The stage was set with old friends, young hearts, and those as close to 'family' as she'd ever known in her youth. Half a dozen elvish teens were gathered for an evening of drinking and debauchery. Clumsy sips nipped from stolen bottles fuelled peals of laughter, innuendo; a missed step in a waltz he did not know. They linked hands and spun each other in circles until they flew apart, dizzy and grass-stained, to shout their joy to the stars. The forest was alive with their energy.
A pretty girl with braids of shining black sang a song about fleeting love while a boy plucked the strings of a lute. She stared at a much younger Ellana beneath lowered lashes and flushed pink when her interest was noted. Stole a kiss — coy, at the corner of her mouth — then ran away laughing in the hope she'd be followed. A promise in the sway of her hips as she leapt, barefoot, into the dark.
It was a selfish thing, to wave it all away for a chance to see her. To write himself over a memory of more innocent love.
But he was a selfish man.
He watched Ellana pull herself to stand on legs unsteady from the drink and ready for a chase. She was a fox after a rabbit — wild and hungry. Eager for the thrill of the hunt. She wore her shirt tied too loose to keep a secret and a toothy grin. She drained the last of a bottle of wine and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.
The smile fell from her lips as he entered the scene.
He did not belong, and was not invited, so his presence displaced the parts he did not know. With them went her excitement. Her joy. The memory of the girl — and the others gathered around the fire — all faded into a fog of woodsmoke and alcohol. What remained in his trespass was only the clearing, the fire, and a more familiar body. Older, and harder. Built of scars and curves his fingers knew better.
She did not recognize him at first, nor the setting as an illusion. She scrubbed at bleary eyes, blinked them clear, and found herself standing somewhere unfamiliar. Slipping into the fog, she sat back down on the fallen tree and stared into the fire. After a moment she snapped off a twig and threw it in — just to watch it snap and spark.
Only once Solas stood beside her did she acknowledge his presence. She looked up and met his eyes wearing with a shade of sadness he'd not anticipated. As if she carried a weight, even in this place.
That twinge of guilt grew heavier.
A selfish, foolish, man.
But lonely, too.
"I'm not sure if I'll be able to find you after tonight," he explained, and took a neighbouring seat by the fire. Stretched a hand out to feel its heat.
Though she watched him she did not react to the introduction. Her gaze still distant and unfocused. To find her, his fingers crawled across the space between them. Over rough bark and through moss, seeking an embrace. When they touched he wove their hands together, and squeezed. A small gesture, but within the Fade was one through which he could bridge a stronger connection. Tie them across vast distances. With his presence he could anchor her, as she did him.
He felt the beat of her heart as though it were his own. The pulse of the Anchor's power in her arm. And the mana — new and volatile — churning in her breast.
He felt her become aware.
She was getting better at it. Faster. He hardly needed to lead her anymore.
He felt her squeeze his hand in return.
"Once you've travelled far enough from Skyhold the search will become too difficult. Past the foothills, I should think, is beyond my ability." He looked away. Though she'd shown no disapproval, these places were private. To disturb a dream — worse, a memory — without invitation flirted with a use of power he found fundamentally distasteful. It was not the first time, nor was it likely to be the last, but he was acutely aware of his position as trespasser here. "I'm sorry for the intrusion this evening. It is not something we'd discussed, specifically. I have— Today has been—" There were several false starts. "I've found it difficult to be…"
He trailed into silence.
A moment taken to gather his thoughts. How best to couch his loneliness in something more decorous than lovesick pining. He settled for a wordless approach, in the end. In the Fade such things were simpler. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed to it a kiss of memory.
The day felt so long.
There were the scattered, fruitless, attempts to busy himself with work. Five projects started and no progress made on any by the end of the day.
The page of a book he'd read a dozen times over before abandoning.
Dorian passing by his desk six times under the guise of errands; not quite persuaded to start a conversation. Concern heavy in the line of his brow.
Varric's invitation to join him for a game of cards at The Herald's Rest, declined.
Snapping at Leliana when she did not have all the answers. An apology he owed, but did not offer.
And the ache in his chest when he laid in bed with only his worry as company. That night he'd lit a censer of incense and herbs to assist with sleep — something he'd not done in all his time with the Inquisition.
Ellana smiled — beautiful, if not fleeting — and, "I miss you, too," she said. And turned her gaze back to the campfire.
They were quiet for a time. Their joined hands binding hearts across an expanse of snow, rivers, and road.
This could be enough.
Seeing her — touching her — it was important to his peace. Somewhere far away she lay asleep on a bedroll in a threadbare tent. Alone, maybe. Exhausted, surely — after all she'd experienced in a few short days. Nightmare and fire and tests of loyalty.
If he had the ability to he would set aside all his reservations about propriety and grace and crawl into that empty space beside her just to watch her sleep. Run a finger across her forehead to catch her hair, and tuck it away. Kiss the bridge of her nose. Hear the steady, quiet, breaths in the dark next to him. Guard her dreams — keep her safe from harm.
But that was beyond his reach. So this would have to do.
"Her name was Shae." She met his eyes only briefly. "The girl. In case you were wondering. She was from the city — not Dalish. If the clan settled near enough to a town with an alienage, as we sometimes did for the winter, a group of us would sneak in and invite some of the locals to join us. If we were caught we told Keeper it was in hope of bringing our lost cousins into the fold… but really it was more about diversifying our options for romantic partners."
It was impossible not to let slip a strange, sheepish, pang of something like envy. Not for jealousy — he had never been a possessive man — but for how easily the girl had evoked a glimpse of the playful spirit he so loved… and rarely had the opportunity to enjoy.
Ellana felt it too, and raised a curious brow. "Do you need to hear that you're the best I've had?"
He chuckled, feeling foolish. "No, that is not necessary. I am not threatened by your previous lovers. It is only…" There he paused, considering. A level of decorum was expected in her position — their games were secret, and seldom played. It was a strange grief; to miss something they'd never had. "There are certain freedoms awarded to young lovers. To those not expected to conform to a role of leadership, or influence. It is a gift to experience love without constraints. To see you once enjoying that is bittersweet."
She did not share his melancholy. Instead, she was grinning. "Would you like to drunkenly chase me around a forest and then have mediocre sex barely out of earshot of our friends? Because that's what this night ended with."
He considered that.
"Perhaps not mediocre."
The sound she made was more snort than laughter, and it charmed him.
"Given the results of our previous indiscretions I don't know if it's something we should aspire to." A little levity was wove into the warning. "Instead of merely witnessed we could be found and captured. Taken prisoner. Or fall off a roof, or something. All without our pants. It might not be worth the risk."
"You had no complaints at the time," he said pointedly, but not without humour.
She smiled again. "No, I didn't — in fact it was the highlight of my evening. Sneaking off to do something stupid, and dangerous, and wonderful. Even knowing what I do now, I cannot regret it." Dreamy reminiscence turned to something more pensive as the smile fell away. "I think that's rather the point, isn't it? Somehow, you always manage to drive me mad one way or another."
Even with her voice so soft and sweet it did not feel like praise.
She cast her gaze aside, but did not let go of his hand. For that small mercy he was grateful. The steady beat of her heart was his lifeline; a reminder she was safe. He could stay this way until dawn — even in silence. Forget the troubles of the waking world for whatever time she'd gift him.
But it was not to be.
"Who are they, Solas?" She could not look him in the eye, so she asked it of the fire instead. "Your agents in Skyhold. Are there many? What do they report on?"
He knew this was coming.
Softly, "They are of no threat to you," he replied.
It wasn't an answer.
"Then name them," she countered.
Circles and secrets had made him weary.
Soon, he'd tell himself — when it is over, when it is different, when it is safe. When it was would bring her in, by his side, and gift her all the power she'd never wanted.
"You know I cannot do that."
She closed her eyes. "I know," she admitted. "But I deserve the truth."
"Yes." It was as honest as he could be. "You do."
Ellana braced herself against a tree, her hair gathered in the fist of the other hand, doubled-over and sick into a patch of grass.
A thin layer of perspiration had broken over her forehead. She could feel the sweat rolling down her temples, leaving her uncomfortably flush even with the chill in the air. Icicles strung along the higher branches dripped frigid meltwater onto her hair and neck, which found its way down her shirt collar, though it offered poor comfort. For relief she broke a piece of frozen crust off a nearby snowdrift and formed it into a ball. Held it to her cheeks and throat. That was a little better.
Sera stood back a dozen steps with her arms crossed, mouth twisted and wrinkles on her nose. "How is it you still have anything left?" She spoke with the sort of quiet awe one might reserve for viewing the scene of a horrific crime. Blatant disgust and morbid curiosity. "I mean… where are you even keeping it?"
When she could risk talking, "A mystery for the ages," Ellana quipped. And hiccoughed.
Sera snorted.
This wasn't normally an event that called for an audience, but given the circumstances of their departure no one was entirely comfortable leaving the Herald unattended for long. Every stop, regardless of the reason, required an escort. Just in case they were followed or tracked. She hadn't even taken a privy break without someone just around the corner. A complaint of particular note given how often she called for them.
While she could not begrudge them the extra caution, the position of 'vomit guard duty' was becoming an increasingly trying one as the journey wore on. The morning had been productive but once they reached the bottom of the pass the rocking, dizzy, gait of the mounts ambling along a dry riverbed had made this the fourth stop in half as many hours. An experience hardly improved by accidental, awkward, eye contact and the uncomfortable pacing of her 'guards'.
One of the harts squealed from somewhere off in the direction of their other companions, left waiting by the road, and Sera tossed a look over one shoulder to ensure the sound wasn't cause for alarm. The animals were restless. They hadn't been ridden in some time and were happy for the chance to be out of their stables. Eager to keep moving. The stop-and-start pace of the day had been frustrating.
Turning back, "We barely ate today. You must be starting to dip into yesterday's dinner," Sera commented.
In reply, Ellana could only groan.
More like last week's.
She hadn't eaten much since they'd left, and kept little of what she did, down. Pain had made an effective ward against hunger pangs. The scar on her shoulder and the twisted ankle throbbed in turns, but worse were the rashes that broke out wherever her clothes chafed against the layers of dirt and blood she'd not yet washed. She longed for a river crossing. Or an inn. She'd give her left arm for a washtub and some soap.
Even a glacier and a burst of flame would do in a pinch.
She took another handful of hard-packed snow and ran it back and forth along her forehead.
When a full minute passed without another heave or belch, Sera cautiously took a step toward her. Eased her pack off one shoulder and started fishing about in the pockets. "You want a ration?" she asked, pulling out one of the cloth bindles. "Haven't seen you eat one today, and if you're going to make this—" She gestured to the whole of her. "—a habit all the way there might want to try getting something in you. Nothing worse than running empty and still going. Then you'll get the burns up your nose. Taste it for hours."
The smell of sharp cheese hit her the instant it was unwrapped.
She gagged audibly.
Sera quickly reversed. "Right. I'll take that as a, 'no', then." She tucked it back into the bag.
Bull's voice floated through the trees. "Still going?"
A sigh, weary, as if she were the one inconvenienced. Ellana cursed her for it: try violently heaving for hours on end with a weight on your bladder and see how that compares to watching me do it.
Sera cupped her hands around her mouth and, "Round three," she called back. "Can you bring some water?"
There was another impatient screech from one of the mounts, the distant sounds of Cassandra trying — unsuccessfully — to soothe them, some rustling of bushes, and a moment later Bull joined them in the glen. A full water skin in hand. He tossed it to Sera. She popped off the cork and offered it to Ellana.
Cautiously, and at a safe distance.
"Here," she urged, "To wash your mouth out, at least."
It was a terrible idea.
Everything was terrible.
Her shoulder, her leg, her nausea, the exhaustion, the foot stuck under her rib, the way things were left at Skyhold, the ambient temperature…
She shook her head, closed her eyes, and leaned heavily on her arm. Counting seconds in the silence to keep herself centred as she waited for this wave to pass. The peace did not last, though. Sera's eagerness to return to the road was, perhaps, motivated by the hope of having another person take her place watching the Inquisitor vomit steaming holes in the snow.
She held the skin out and shook it back and forth, making the water inside jostle and splash. When that failed to draw her any attention she took another step forward and stretched, slowly, her arm toward Ellana until the skin was nearly held flush to her cheek.
One eye opened, peering over her elbow.
Sera's expression was a tapestry wove of caution, revulsion, and spent patience.
Drink it so we can leave, it begged.
"Take it," she urged.
"No," Ellana replied.
"Gotta have something," Sera argued, unmoved. "If the food's too much a few sips will do. If you don't, you'll feel worse, then we'll be here ages. Or you'll make us stop again in another half hour."
How is it this was actually better when Cassandra played guard?
She just sat around looking uncomfortable. In glorious silence. And in no way attempted to offer suggestions or rope her into conversation.
Defeated, Ellana snatched the skin out of Sera's hand and grumbled under her breath about wasted resources and pushed boundaries as she brought it to her lips. She took a quick swig and spit. Waited. And, once having determined the water wasn't going to make the cycle start all over again, took a proper drink.
Sera looked satisfied.
Bull circled around behind them and put a hand on Ellana's shoulder to get her attention. "Can you sit?" he asked. In her pique she'd forgotten he was there. "Let me get a look at your leg."
"I said wait until we get to the lake," she mumbled. Had said it multiple times, even. He'd been pushing to look at her injuries since they got out of the Frostbacks and she'd been brushing him off just as long.
There was nothing wrong with the suggestion, per se, but she was miserable and petulant and feeling sorry for herself and so wasn't in the mood to comply. Sitting through the pain of taking her boots, wraps, and armour on and off just so he could gawk at the twisted ankle that surely be further inflamed by the act seemed wholly unnecessary. At least until they reached somewhere she could properly bathe and devote an evening to treating any lingering wounds.
Unfortunately, he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer this time.
"It really wasn't a request," he replied. His hands were already on her waist, pulling her backward, away from the tree. "Right here is fine."
She didn't try to fight him. He was far stronger and the effort would be wasted. "If I am sick on you, I want you to know that you deserved it."
Sera offered a hand for balance and the two helped her find a seat upon the ground before setting to work unlacing her boot. This was also not a task typically suited to multiple people, but these were extenuating circumstances. She saw the merit in having the extra support as soon as Bull pulled off the boot and pain lanced through her leg: one hand reflexively shot out and grabbed hold of Sera's clothes. The ratty shirt balled tightly in a fist, twisted, until it began to tear at the seams and the neck was pulled so far open that it no longer granted her a shred of modesty.
"Watch it — you almost took my tit off!" Sera yelped, and laughed.
Any levity the comment granted was dispelled immediately upon seeing the injury laid bare.
A deep and dusky blue, her ankle had swollen to twice its normal size and was covered in criss-crossing lines from the boot's seams digging into her skin. It hurt terribly. Worse now that it was unbound, as she'd feared. She'd managed to keep weight off it for most of the journey, but two days of riding hadn't done it any favours.
Bull gently turned her foot back and forth in the cup of his palm. Careful not to touch it more than needed. "Hm. Not great."
Through clenched teeth, "Give me another regeneration potion — I can split it over the rest of the day," Ellana suggested. He had several in his pack. "I can deal with it properly once we make it to Lake Calenhad; let that tide me over until then. No need to hold us up any longer in this glen."
He shook his head. "Won't help at this point. This needed to be dealt with a day ago. It's not sprained — it's broken." His lone eye held hers over a brief, but meaningful, pause. She tried not to squirm under the weight of disapproval coming off him in waves.
He was quiet a moment, then reached into the pouches on his belt and started pulling out provisions for treatment. A single potion, bandages, and jar of herbs, among other things.
Then, apropos of nothing, "Isn't this the same glen you were puking in before?" he asked.
She frowned. "When?"
There were a lot of times. It all sort of blurred together.
He pushed his thumb into the swollen knot above her ankle bone and Sera's shirt ripped a little more.
"On our way back from the Fallow Mire. A while ago — maybe six, seven months? You and I were sick with the flu but you had it worse. We stopped around here somewhere after you threatened to kill me for talking about food." He picked up the waterskin she'd dropped on the ground when he'd lowered her there and handed it back. "Here."
She took it. "No, that was closer to Skyhold. Only half a day out."
"You sure? These trees look familiar." A second, smaller, canteen was pulled off his belt and also offered to her. "Take this, too."
"Very sure — it's not an afternoon I'd easily forget." Except for the parts where she was numb with shock.
"It's when you found out, right?" He passed over the bandages. "And these."
They were tucked into a palm. With both hands full she had to lean forward for balance. Nausea pressed uncomfortably at her throat. "That's right," she replied. One brow raised. "Did you know?"
"It's my job to know things," he answered vaguely. Then flashed her a crooked smile. "But no, I didn't know it then. It was clear something had shaken you up, I just wasn't sure what it was. Thought maybe you and Solas might have been arguing; you were working pretty hard to avoid him."
Her eyes narrowed. "You did figure it out before I told everyone, though."
"Mhm," he affirmed, offhandedly. He was measuring the swelling, running his fingers along her calf and marking the skin with quick digs of a thumbnail.
"And you knew about us well before that."
"The answer to your next question is, 'before you did'."
Ass.
Sera threw her hands up. "The fuck does that even mean?"
Bull pulled a thick leather thong out of one of his pouches — too short to be a belt, too fat to be a lace — and held it out to Ellana. "Hold this."
"Hang on." It took a moment to rearrange it all. She tucked one of the skins into an elbow to free up the hand, passed the bandages over, then grabbed the thong and put it in her mouth to keep it out of the way until she could make a proper place for it. "What am I doing with all this—?" she began, but never finished.
The second she put the leather strip between her teeth Bull braced a flattened hand on the inside of her calf and snapped her ankle into place.
The crack was almost loud enough to echo.
The scream that followed it did — though somewhat muffled by the thong.
She tore it from her mouth and, "Fucking hell, Bull!" she yelled. Then threw it at him. It was bitten and pitted from where she'd clenched her teeth so hard it nearly went to pieces. If it served an actual purpose before this certainly didn't anymore. "Could you not have warned me first?!"
"Nope," he said, dismissively. Infuriatingly. "If I warned you, you might not let me fix it. The problem with potions is that if you use them on a break before you set the bone properly it'll do more damage to you in the end. If you wait too long you might even have to re-break it to get it to heal right. You only make that mistake once. It's lined up now though, so you can drink this." He took back the waters and leather and passed over a small red vial in exchange. "Keep off it a few hours. You'll be in much better shape by tonight."
A series of withering curses were slipped between sips.
Sera looked almost impressed.
He rewrapped her foot with a clean bandage — a little tighter than before, for stability. When that was finished he slipped the boot back on with far more care than he'd shown in taking it off. "Try to keep that down," he advised with a nod at the potion bottle. He offered her a hand up. Glowering, she grasped it round the wrist and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "If you need the help I can carry you to the hart."
"Nuva vher av ma, i banalhan av vher. Don't fucking touch me, you colossal shit," Ellana snapped back, but she still linked their arms together.
"You kiss Solas with that mouth?" he quipped. And despite herself, she laughed.
The next evening it took most of the night to find her.
Hours he combed the Fade, walking paths familiar and foreign, looking for stars to guide him. A landmark, disturbance, echoes — wisps that touched upon her presence — or the Anchor shining in the dark. Instead he went in circles.
His power was stretched too thin — too far — the distance left him crippled. Frustrated.
When he finally managed to catch her scent, it was all but a thread floating on the wind. So delicate was the trail that it took all the strength he had to sharpen his focus and follow it back to her. An effort that left him so depleted by the end that he could not hold his normal, physical, form. He would not be able embrace her — be it by hands or heart — there was simply not enough of him.
Even more time was wasted drawing on the last ounces of stamina he could muster to choose another shape.
The party had set their tents in the shadow of old ruins that night. A detour off the main road where few dared to tread; such places made for safer camp, if you were not superstitious. Ghost stories left it untouched by looters and explorers both, but set a feast for a Dreamer. On another night, with another purpose, it might've been a place he'd happily lose days to. Reading the old signs and collecting an eon of memories buried here. Share space with Curiosity and Wist; spirits of the hearth whose touch made these places feel like coming home. The lure of knowledge was tempting, but a distraction he could not afford, and he was too weak to ponder it long.
This far from where his body lay he lacked even the most basic ability to reshape the setting he entered. Its bounds did not bend to his will, and it meant he could not draw her focus if she became enthralled. Or worse. Were something to threaten her, he could only stand by and watch. Guarding the boundary with all the other things too small to step into her shadow.
He took the form of a wolf.
A visage she'd seen only once before. It made their meeting both easier and harder. Easier, to strip away all the aspects of physicality beyond his scope — speech, touch, dominion — and focus on what little control he had left at such a distance. Harder, for all the implication it carried. But the form was also one with which he was intimately familiar, and so easier to don when options were low.
In it, she recognized him immediately.
She was lucid. Dreaming, awakened, all on her own. She sat on a hill on folded knees watching over the small village. Its inhabitants toiled on the roads below: building, talking, tilling earth that had grown cold and barren hundreds of years ago. The memories here were rich and numerous. Even a cursory glance offered him an array of curious scenes. Hazy at this distance, but tempting still.
Ellana sensed his arrival. Glanced over one shoulder to greet him as he approached, but paused instead with lips parted. Her gaze dropping, and a brow raising, when she found him wearing a face she'd not expected.
After a time, "You know, you don't look nearly as fearsome as you did in my room that night," she said.
The Fade could reflect only what it was provided; limited by perception and memory. If he was less formidable, it was only because she did not fear the beast as she once had. Things that terrified in the dark could seem harmless by light of day. Even gods were only as powerful as the awe they inspired in their followers.
You are stronger, he wanted to say… but could not speak in this form. Instead he laid upon the grass next to her. Sinking low — chin to the ground in a show of submission — in the hope of communicating in action what his words could not. Tonight he was just an audience.
She reached over and touched his head. Softly, and without any of the hesitance she once showed. Carefully carded her fingers through the thick fur at his neck, digging deep to find warmth. Then she did the same at his throat. His nose. His ear. Her fingers moving in jerky, halting, bursts. Pausing between each touch as if she were searching for something.
She pulled her hand away. "I cannot feel you like this. Not the way I could before. I know you're there — I don't think I would've created this — but there's no depth when I touch you. No connection." She considered. "Is that the fault of distance, or form?"
It was both.
He huffed what he hoped was an affirmative breath, and pushed at her hand with his nose.
"Do I only see you this way because I expect it somehow? Do you look different to yourself?" She was not looking for answers, her gaze turned back to the village before she'd even finished asking the questions. Then she said, "I suppose you'd not look like this if you had a choice. That probably means I won't see you again until I move to the birth house."
Her fingertips skimmed along a paw, following his leg up to the shoulder, where she rest her open hand upon his back. Feeling him breathe, he realized. Spirits and demons in the Fade did not — only those who had known a living body would mimic its autonomous functions. Even the most clever trickery could not sell a lie of something so innate to physicality.
She was saying, "I'm not sure where it is. The birth house, I mean. Leliana mentioned it weeks ago but I can't recall now. I think it might be just inside the border of Orlais. Maybe the outskirts of Jader. I'm… not thrilled it's Orlais, but Vivienne has spoken highly of the city, so it can't be all that terrible. And I suppose it's not really up to me."
She turned to look at him. "What do you think: an elvish child born by the sea in a foreign city of theatre and opulence? Probably on a lavish bed dressed with silks and fancy trim. There'd be art on the walls and pearls on the mirror." With one hand she swept the air, as if it were adorned in fineries. "Do you think I'll be catered to with little cakes and fruit? Some summer wine older than I am? Who knows how the Orlesian nobility does it… I'll bet they keep all their clothes on and barely make a sound. Maybe they burn the bloody sheets after so no one will ever know they shit them like all the rest of us."
It was more than careless venom.
She needed to talk — so he listened.
"That seems an appropriately grand entrance for the bastard of a god, don't you think?" When he winced, she felt it. Even in this form. So belatedly, "Demigod," she corrected.
That was not any better.
She twisted locks of fur around her fingers. Toying with it just as she had done once, long ago. "Do you think, if I ran away, that I could make it all the way to the clans before someone caught me? I'd only have to get to the other side of the Frostbacks, then I'd be home free in the Dales. No one knows that area the way the Dalish do — I could disappear. Find a spring settlement, and give birth in the tents. In the forest. On the plains, maybe. With my hands held by sisters and elders.
"Did you know every clan has their own birth customs? One of ours was to rub an oil made of tallow, deep mushrooms, and elfroot into a mother's stomach and back while she rocked through her pains. I've always heard it said it will make them easier to bear. Maybe for the healing properties, or maybe just for the touch of loving hands. Sometimes they sing, too. It helps keep a rhythm to your breathing."
Her hand slid from his back, onto the ground. She twisted delicate blades of grass between her fingers, then dug them deep into the dirt, and ripped it out in handfuls. The people down below had become hazy and indistinct, fading into the background, as their audience drifted.
"When the baby is born you bury the afterbirth in the soil under the site, before the tent is taken down, so that their entrance into the world is always marked. Always remembered. The midwife — or Keeper, if they wear both mantles — dries the cord in the sun. It's kept in a little pouch like a sort of charm until they wean, and the last threads of their connection to their mother's body are cut." She touched her throat, where a pendant would lie. "These are old traditions for luck, health, and long life." There was a pause. Then a sound that was too bitter to be a laugh. Almost, but not quite. "You'd hate them."
It troubled him, how sure she sounded. It stung.
Because she did not think he could embrace the parts of her culture still held dear.
Because she assumed he would dismiss it all as too Dalish.
Because she was right.
And it stung to see that part of himself reflected in the tremble of her voice as she longed for like-mind kin to hold her.
He could appreciate the value of ritual; in keeping memory alive. In honour. The connections these customs sowed over generations. In the end it did not matter whether they were authentic — ancient or modern — they were important to the people who performed them, so they were important.
But he could not speak in this form.
So he hoped his silence would not cause her pain.
The grass around her was torn down to dirt when she spoke again.
"I think I've figured one out," she said. "One of your people. It was that girl who used to act as one of my attendants. The elf — of course they'd be elves — she was quiet, but I remember thinking she was uncommonly smart for someone from such a simple upbringing. She brought me meals and checked in on me after I sealed the breach, at Haven. Survived the siege and the mountains, but went home not long after we got to Skyhold." A chill crept into her voice. Turning sentiment to ice. "When she left she said it was to tend to ailing family, but that wasn't really the reason why was it? It was because we'd kissed. It wasn't too long after that when she gave me the news.
"The easy assumption is that you no longer needed her around once you managed to get so much closer to me. Or perhaps she'd become too memorable, and it was a risk to keep her close. I might draw a conclusion from your connection, if I suspected; realize you were still keeping secrets. It would compromise your ability to continue using your network in Skyhold. Or maybe you reconsidered, maybe you wondered if honesty would work better. But I know it's none of those."
She turned to him. "You felt guilty about it once you developed feelings for me, and did it to spare yourself the discomfort."
It was possible — likely even — that she would not have said so were they in another setting. Here, in this form, he could brook no argument against her accusation. There was a fight in her eyes; she had already set the pieces and planned all the moves. They had danced this dance before. They knew the steps.
Spin and weave — omission and promise.
Selfishness.
He lowered his head back upon the ground and let the silence roll over them like mist. Slipping in the spaces between denial and devotion with the electric, anxious, air that descends when dark clouds gather. Before the storm breaks. Together they shared that fragile peace until dawn. Until morning broke, and the light crept under doors and into windows, filtering through canvas cloth, to pull them both from sleep.
On the third night Solas found nothing. Not even a place to start.
In his failure he cursed his body, his dreams, and the world he'd awakened in. Broken and incomplete.
Once, he could enter the dream of any living being. He had the power to lord and terrify; to grow himself into fearsome nightmare or appear as small and innocent as wandering wisp. He could reshape reality, grant order, or even kill with a thought.
But without the orb, without rebuilding what was lost, he could not unlock all the parts of him that still slumbered. He could not truly be free to walk the Fade as beast or man.
Only limp.
"Wake up."
Ellana had been pushed from the Fade by his command enough times that it took only hearing the words, even distantly, to rouse her.
The dream had been about him, though he'd not been present in it. That was something she could sense innately now. There were tells in the weight of his touch, the strength of connection, and the wake he left behind — the way the Fade moved around him as he moved within it. When his visage was her own creation there was an emptiness that lingered. Tugged at her skin, as though begging to be filled; if she could press her spirit into the void she'd make it real.
She could get lost in that draw.
Days had gone by since last she felt him. In that time her anger cooled to hurt, to loneliness, then yearning. Regret warring with pride as she turned their conversations over and over in her head. It was a question of weight, and how much she could bear before secrets and loyalty tested the limits of her fortitude. Somehow they always managed to circle back to the same damn argument… just dressed up in different clothes.
He was arrogant, and intelligent, and single-minded; unshakable, when he believed he knew best.
But he was also disarmingly fragile, gentle, and more devoted than anyone she'd ever known.
Regardless how the plans of gods played out, they were linked, intrinsically. They were two worlds caught in the gravity of each other. But she wondered if he could ever really live in hers if his ultimate goal lay in tearing it apart.
It was a doubt she could never quite shake.
Over nights, her solitude carved it into heartache; folding in upon itself until she was tied in knots, and her rest plagued with visions of hopeful reconciliation. Apologies and assurances between the press of his mouth. A kiss so sweet she could forgive all the lies she'd yet to hear.
And she was back at the beginning again. Happy to push it all aside until the next time, because she missed him. Hands, laughter, smile — even the fights. She'd never been so full of passion as she was with her teeth at his throat, be it with curse or sigh.
When she opened her eyes she almost expected to see his face there, smiling. She'd take it in her hands and kiss everything away.
Instead, she saw Sera — and for a moment struggled to understand why she'd taken his place.
Her eyes flashed in the dark, catching the light of the campfire outside. It was still night. Too early yet to rise for breakfast, and there was no watch for which she'd be awakened. They had all insisted she not take shifts this time.
Ellana frowned. "What's wrong?" she whispered.
"Nothin'," Sera replied. Then she backed out of the tent on hands and knees. "Follow me, I want to show you what I found."
Ellana pushed herself up on her elbows. "What is it?"
The flap opened. Sera's hand appeared, beckoning, "Come on," and was gone again.
It was clear she'd get no answers simply by asking for them.
"Alright, hang on. Give me a minute."
The armour she'd been given for the journey was terrible: stiff and ill-fitted. Clearly made for the frame of a human man instead of round elf. She'd fallen asleep still partly donned in it. Too exhausted to undress completely she just crawled into the tent, lay down on the bedroll, and was out in moments. She sorely regretted that now. It dug uncomfortable tracks in her back as she rolled. Awkward and ungraceful.
Sitting up had become a challenge.
When she'd made it to all fours she grabbed for her boots, but, "Leave it," Sera said, once more standing at the front of the tent with the flap held open. "No use getting them tied just to take them off again."
She didn't have any shoes on either.
Curiouser, her pant legs were wet below the knee.
Ellana left the boots behind and didn't bother with the rest of the armour, but slipped a knife from beneath her pillow into her belt. She did not go anywhere without it now.
Outside it was quiet. The fire had burnt low, but still hot; hours to go yet before it consumed the split-log and the remnants of a dinner spit thrown on when they were done eating. Cassandra and Bull slept soundly. Their snores just slightly out of sync with one another. High above, the waxing moon and a sky full of stars bathed the camp in light enough to see by. Enough for an elf, at least.
She pushed off the ground, up onto her feet, spine popping and cracking for the effort. As she stretched she surveyed the camp for any sign of change, but saw nothing different since she'd retired to bed hours ago.
She started, "Is there—?"
But Sera interrupted — "This way!" — and skipped backward a few steps before turning round and all but leaping into the woods.
Ellana followed. She was hardly quick on her feet, but Sera never got so far ahead that she left the periphery. Every twenty paces she'd glance over one shoulder to ensure Ellana hadn't fallen behind. The chase led them out of the ravine they'd sheltered in, up a hill, and beyond a copse of evergreens. There was more meandering than distance covered, but it was enough for the campfire to be a distant flicker by the time she thought to turn around and measure how far they'd gone.
"We really shouldn't be this far out without waking someone," she chided.
Sera waved it off. "It's not much further, keep your pants on." Then she snorted — laughing at her own joke. "Or don't. Naked is better anyway."
"I'm flattered, but unavailable," Ellana quipped, ducking under a low branch.
The eye roll was implied. "Not that kind of naked."
"Is it even worth dragging myself out of the tent in the middle of the night for another kind?"
"This will be, you'll see," Sera assured. She sounded confident.
The path became more difficult once they cut over a ridge; the rise littered with loose stone and exposed roots. Too steep to walk upright, Ellana had to get down on hands and knees to climb it. It was slow-going with her wide gait — enough so that she was almost moved to give up and go back, but once she finally reached the top it was immediately apparent what had made the journey worth all this effort.
Just below, on the other side of the hill, was a shallow gulley dotted with pools of water. Maybe a dozen in all — little ponds surrounded by borders of shale. The largest of which was no bigger than 20 feet across. Still as glass, each surface cast a perfect mirror of the evening sky as if it had a moon of its own.
The lack of feed rivers or runoff identified them as freshwater springs.
But the steam hanging in the air above them was the truly thrilling part.
Eyes wide, "Are those hotsprings?" Ellana exclaimed, and Sera beamed with pride. Her smile as wide and genuine as she'd seen since they left. "How did you find them?"
"Chased a rabbit up this way maybe an hour ago," she replied, slightly muffled as she pulled her shirt up over her head. "Searched the perimeter for trouble first. This ravine is walled off on two sides by cliffs just behind the next rise." She gestured with her chin, and shimmied out of her pants. "The path here is a little rough but we're only about two hundred paces from camp. Close enough to take a dip without being out of earshot."
When she was standing in only a smile she turned it on Ellana. One brow quirked suggestively. "So?"
This was a stupid idea.
The responsible thing to do would be to head back and wake someone before partaking. Or wait until tomorrow. But she'd already trekked all the way over — she didn't want to climb the hill twice — and it would be silly to return to camp now that she was already half-way through undoing all the buckles on her chest piece.
Delayed gratification had never been her forté.
Sera left her clothes in a pile and tore down the hill, arms flung out for balance as she ran. Her quiver and bow were dropped on the ground a second before she crashed into one of the largest pools. Clearly a little deeper than expected: on the first step she tripped and fell face-first, disappearing under the surface for a split second before popping back out like a cork. Strands of blonde hair plastered all over her face and neck.
"Hot!" she exclaimed, wiping her eyes. Standing in the deepest part of the pool the water reached her collar; she didn't need to tread water. She dipped under one more time, as if to ensure the conclusion she'd reached was an accurate one. Gasping, "Really hot!" as she re-emerged. "Smells like arse, too!"
Sulphur she could live with. Ellana was hardly in a position to be too picky about the first hot bath since leaving the fortress. She was out of her clothes and down the hill in record time given the limitations of a freshly-healed break and belly full to bursting.
She opted not to leap in all at once the way Sera so clumsily demonstrated. At the water's edge she sat, and slid her bottom along the rocky overhang to dangle her legs in. Adjust to the temperature more slowly.
But even just those first few inches… bliss.
She could see the layers of sweat and grime dissolving. And when she sighed, content, Sera grinned. "Brilliant, right?"
Better than brilliant. "Remind me never to doubt your instincts."
"Only thing that could make this better would be a bottle of wine, but we're fresh out of that." It wasn't the most inclusive suggestion, and she realized that belatedly. Made a face. "I suppose you couldn't enjoy it anyway though."
Really, Ellana couldn't bring herself to care. This was perfect as is.
She felt around with her foot until she located another ledge and slid further in — up to her breast — so she could sit upon it. Relief washed over her in a wave of ecstasy. Soothing every knotted muscle she'd gained from days of riding. Every irritated patch of skin that'd rubbed too raw against her armour. Wringing all the pain from bumps and bruises that had yet to fully heal.
They should never leave this place.
Surely, she could persuade the midwife to come here to deliver the baby when it was time. Everybody likes a hot bath. If she were particularly compelling perhaps she could even persuade Solas to join her, though that chance was slim. He was ridiculously fussy about bathing in company.
She closed her eyes and leaned back against the edge of the pool, arms resting on the rock behind her, to dream of what it might be like to live here instead of the Frostbacks. Perhaps a little cabin on the hill. It would overlook the springs so she could visit them every day and never again suffer the indignity of going weeks without a bath.
Sera's snort of laughter drew her from the reverie. "Look at you!" she snickered, and flicked the water. Sending a little spray at her face. "You're like a big, round, turnip! Bet you'd make the biggest splash if you jumped in proper."
She smirked. Said, "If we were taking bets I'd put my money on Bull," as she struck her with a splash back.
"What? Not a chance! Haven't you ever played 'whose the splashiest'?" It was more an accusation than a question. The idea someone might not be familiar with this game was apparently somewhat alarming. "It's about your form, not your weight. Rounder is better."
To demonstrate, she slapped the water's surface with a loose, open, hand. The resulting spray could barely be called a splash. Then, she balled up her fist for the next test, and Ellana had to shield her face with both arms to avoid being hit.
"Pssh! See? Round."
It was a compelling argument but she wasn't convinced. She might have the shape but Bull had sheer bulk. "Maybe if we stop here on the way back through, when I'm a month larger, you can judge a 'splashiest' match to put your theory to test."
Her brows went up. "Oh, I forgot you still had a bit to go still. Where's it all gonna go?" Sera made a vaguely spherical shape with her hands and a shoving motion that implied something anatomically improbable. "Sure you won't bust open before then?"
"I'm sure if I rearrange some organs I can find some space somewhere."
She recoiled. "Not really?"
Laughing, "Sort of!" Ellana replied brightly. "Everything else gets shoved out the way. Do you not know how this works?"
"Not something I've ever needed to think about. Don't have much use for that part."
"Never known a friend who had a child?"
Sera shrugged. "Don't stay in one place long enough for friends to settle down and have families. Most are Jennies anyway."
It was a deceptively simple answer; what she meant was that Red Jennies' loyalty lay elsewhere. The ability to drop everything and travel to another city was part of the role. Dragging a family along would only put them at risk, and trying to find a way to balance both would be difficult; nigh impossible. Eventually, they'd be left behind… and that loss would only cause needless complication. Better not to form the attachments in the first place.
Anyone pledged to a cause would do the same.
Anyone with an honourable goal would need to put it above all else to ensure they reached it.
Her chest felt tight.
"What about you?" Sera was saying. "Dalish are all about the families. Legacy and blah blah blah. Everyone has babies; everyone helps, yeah? Must be old hat to you."
She shifted uncomfortably. "It's not quite that simple. Clans are small by design — not like alienages — we can't afford for everyone to have children all at once. Even when resources are plenty it can strain a community. Many born into the clan choose to stay even long after they're old enough to leave and join another… We'd get too large too quickly.
"Also you end up growing up with everyone. There's not that many choices for a partner. Even if we wanted to it's not like everyone could be pairing off left and right, having a dozen children each. It can get complicated. Enough, and the Keeper might even step in to avoid rivalry. And if someone is a mage it adds a whole new layer of difficulty. Quite a few bonds are arranged to avoid having too many in one place."
"You can't just be with whoever you want however you want?" Sera scoffed. "That's stupid."
"Complication isn't exclusive to the Dalish, Sera. I couldn't do it as Inquisitor, either."
She quirked a brow. "All evidence contrary."
"Do you really think there's been anything about this not complicated?" Ellana returned, dryly. Sera rolled her eyes, but did not argue. She continued, "I only knew of a handful of friends who started families before I left. At least one by accident, a few others on purpose. But I didn't spend much time with them or their children. It wasn't really an experience I was all that eager to share in."
"You didn't want kids?"
There was sympathy in her eyes. The turn of her mouth and line of her brow left Ellana feeling uncomfortably pitied. Not because she thought Sera held any lofty belief in the requirement of family, but because Ellana's feelings about it would now be moot.
"No," she replied, reflexively. Then quickly amended, "Sort of". Though the answer felt no surer for it. "I didn't have anyone to want them with. I had no grand plans for the future. That doesn't mean it wasn't going to happen — in fact there was an arrangement waiting, and I imagine having children would've been an important part of it. But… then there was this—" She raised her left hand. The scar of the Anchor cast her skin a sickly green beneath the moonlight. Sera's eyes did not follow it. "And everything else that's come with it… so all that didn't matter anymore. I didn't exactly sit down and draw out my plans for the next few years: 'neutralize the Venatori, Kill Corypheus, raise a family'. Things just happened."
"Do you love him?"
If she was startled by the question it was only because it came from such an unlikely source. But, "Yes," Ellana answered.
"Does he love you?"
"Yes," she answered again. Of that, at least, she was always sure.
Sera leaned back and slipped deeper into the water, until only her face was above. Cheeks pinked from the heat. With her head rest upon the rocky edge of the pool she looked up at the stars. For the space of several breaths she was quiet, considering, then took a final one — deep — and let it out.
"Then it'll be alright," she said.
Quiet — but sure.
"Lots of people who don't love each other have kids, and it always turns out shitty for them. They have to grow up around people who can't stand to be in the same room. That rubs off. It's not their fault, but they still get it the worst. But if you loved each other — even if everything is crazy and you're scared and all — you still have that to give them. It doesn't matter as much if you're poor, or you had no parents to teach you, or if you can't buy them fancy gifts, or bake cookies… because the love rubs off instead. That's real." She glanced at Ellana. "I mean, your kid will have it extra because they've got a castle and twelve uncles, but being made in love still matters. Even if it all goes to shit you still gave them that at the start. And the rest of us would still be here in the end."
Though she tried her hardest not to show it, the tremble in her voice betrayed any attempt to appear unmoved by such a timely sentiment. "Thank you, Sera. That's… really lovely," she whispered.
Sera looked over. Narrowed her eyes. "Are you crying?"
It startled a bark of laughter from her, and the tears she'd so poorly concealed fell on flushed cheeks. She wiped her eyes, laughing, and chanced a look in Sera's direction once she'd managed to compose herself. "No," she lied, and badly.
"If you're going to cry every time I say something nice this is going to be the worst job ever." But she was smiling when she said it.
"Worse than watching my backside while I vomit?"
"Second worst," Sera corrected.
"You might have to get used to it. I spend a lot of time crying lately, it seems."
She folded her arms behind her head — went back to watching the stars. "Not true, sometimes you're too busy throwing up to cry."
"Touché."
"I don't think I've ever really seen it," Sera pondered. Adding a quick, "the crying, not the puking," before Ellana could slip in a protest. "This didn't count."
"Well, aren't you in for a treat," she replied dryly.
There was an uncomfortable roll from somewhere near her left hip, low and deep, and she shifted to accommodate the new position. Hissing a breath through clenched teeth when that was followed by a sharp jab. When the baby was awake and on the move, she felt too full no matter how she arranged herself.
Too many elbows.
Sera had a curious wrinkle in her brow. "Is it kicking?"
"Mhm," she affirmed, and gave the knot in her side a shove in the hopes of persuading its bearer to relocate.
It didn't.
"Started when you woke me up and hasn't stopped since. I feel it most at night now, when I'm trying to sleep."
There was an anxious pause before Sera asked, "What's it like?"
The way she leaned in, tucking a hand under her thigh to stop it twitching, gave the distinct impression a different question had been on her mind.
So she asked it for her. "Do you wantto feel?"
This second pause was longer. Her hand slipped back out and clenched into a fist.
"You don't have to," Ellana amended, and smiled. "But you can if you like. It's a bit like feeling someone move their feet under a very thick blanket."
She'd expected a joke, but Sera just frowned. Considering the offer in pensive silence. There were wonderings of etiquette and boundary that must be weighed against her distaste for social graces. Then weighed against her curiosity.
But after a time, she reached.
Leaning, fingers outstretched beneath the surface of the water, until she touched softly upon the swell that now sat high under Ellana's breast. Then slid along the curve until the flat of her palm was laid there.
"I thought it'd be more squishy," she remarked, almost a whisper. "Maybe it is like a turnip. Is that—" A little lump dragged across the peak of her belly, barely visible in the dark but surely felt. Sera jerked her hand back, aghast. "What the fuck — was that it moving?!" Ellana laughed, instead of answer, and Sera cautiously slid her hand back in place. Giving it a jab in return. Muttered, "That's so much worse than I thought it was going to be." But there was more awe than dismay.
A twig snapped in the distance.
Up the hill they'd run down to get here. Fifty paces, maybe less.
Ellana turned an ear toward it. "What was that?"
Sera stepped back, glancing furtively about, as if worried she'd be caught in the act of something forbidden. Burned by the gall of her own curiosity. "What was what?"
Silence.
They looked at each other. Then at the trees. If Sera was correct about the terrain nothing could come at them except from the direction of—
"Look out below!"
The peace was abruptly disturbed as a very fast, very naked, Iron Bull came tearing out of the woods at a speed that should've been wholly impossible for someone of his size. The pair barely had the time to turn away and scramble for the edges of the pool before he tucked his knees up and leapt into it.
Proving once and for all that he had both the weight and the form required to win the title of, 'splashiest'.
TRANSLATIONS:
Nuva vher av ma, i banalhan av vher = May the cat eat you, and the Blight eat the cat