Chapter 14
Solas entered his lavish apartment located in the city center of Val Royeaux. After throwing his backpack on the floor, he dropped his keys in a ceramic dish on the kitchen counter with a clang. Ignoring a week's worth of mail spread out for his review, he opened the fridge, grabbing a can of lemon-flavored sparkling water. He didn't have to think much about his well-stocked kitchen. Throughout the week, a staff came to replenish supplies and put things in order, scrubbing every surface to a sparkling finish.
He had purchased the apartment on the advice of the Inquisition based on their security recommendations. Truthfully, it was an excessive amount of space for one person, with two floors, four bedrooms and two-and-a-half baths, in a city where a studio apartment was a king's ransom. It was not the penthouse. No, that was a luxury he would have scoffed at, but the view from the high floor was striking, large windows on the exterior walls overlooked the Val Royeaux harbor and a field of nearby skyscrapers. In summer, the seascape was a radiant azure. Now, in autumn, the scenery was gray and stormy. He preferred the latter.
Solas took a seat at his dining room table, popping open the can of seltzer and taking a deep chug. Staring out through the windows, he wondered to himself: when was the last time he had noticed the beauty of the water? The emptiness of his home had not bothered him much before. After all, he preferred being alone.
When he did, on occasion, go out with his colleagues for a glass of wine, or attend a conference, such close socializing left him emotionally exhausted. There had been times where he had tried dating. Occasionally he'd agree to be set-up with someone, only to arrive and spend the next hour making forced small talk. Those failed attempts pushed him further towards solitude.
He hadn't reflected on his life in much detail for a while.
The more time he could dedicate to work, the better. Each successful diagnosis, every student he could support, made up for his earlier complacency with the Evanurius. He had turned down awards for his research and lucrative publishing deals. He had given away to charity as much of Mythal's estate as he could manage. He had even refused a salary from the University, using his trust to live. It was enough to dedicate himself to small acts that made up for the tainted resources he had received as a young man.
It was a good life. No, he was not lonely. Or was he? The drive from the hospital to Ellana's apartment had awoken a new feeling in him. It was startling. One day he had been content, the next day, the whole world changed.
Ellana was vibrant. Underneath the prim suits and polite persona she cultivated as a professor, there was a complicated, spirited woman. He laughed to himself, remembering how, earlier that morning, upon finding out that she did not have fresh clothes to go home in, she boldly proclaimed to him that he would have to take her home in the nude as inevitably that would be preferable to the drab paisley of the hospital gown. She had insisted upon it to the point that Solas wondered if she was joking.
They had compromised, and he had presented her with a pair of his extra scrubs to save the time it would take for himself, or more likely Dagna, to go to her apartment and retrieve any of her belongings. He was surprised-when she exited her hospital room-to see that her petite frame was not swimming in his oversized garb. She had expertly tied and tucked the robes into a fitted classic, almost avant-garde outfit, that, when paired with a set of cat-eye sunglasses salvaged from her purse, made her resemble a celebrity in loungewear trekking through the airport.
He had laughed further when Leiliana had returned to go through the security protocol with the art historian. Ellana was skeptical of the woman, pointing out every discrepancy in the cover-up story she had manufactured. Although Solas knew the spymistress omitted facts mostly to protect the art historian, his respect for Ellana's intelligence grew, watching her make quick work of testing Leilana, forcing the spymistress to adjust her tangled web of conspiracies and intrigue as the conversation evolved.
"Yes, but what about the halla?" Ellana asked Leiliana with a glare. "You are telling me you don't find it strange that this Andruil managed to smuggle three halla into a secure building, sacrifice them one-by-one with no one noticing, and disappear without a trace?"
"We are doing our best to understand her motivations."
"Yes, but you told me minutes ago, that she is an escaped prisoner. Surely, you must have some understanding of what triggered her attack. Also, you are avoiding answering my question about the halla."
"Blood magic," Leilana admitted.
Solas noted that the scholar flinched, hearing those words. Although mostly based on superstition, blood magic was avoided by many mages, even as their mutual relationship to the Fade weakened, given the cost. It took a particular type of ruthlessness to perform the necessary rituals. It was powerful, however, and allowed for spells not available to most regular castors, such as the ability to bend another's will to their own.
"She could have taken over my mind, forced me to-so what I repelled-was a type of death."
"Correct," Leliana acknowledged somberly. The young woman had stayed silent then, listening with rapt attention to the subsequent elite security protocols that had been put in place with as much minimal disruption to her life as possible. In the end, Leliana handed Ellana a pager that, if activated with a push of a button, would summon security forces to the vicinity in a matter of seconds.
Ellana had stared it at as if it were toxic, tracing her fingers over the edges of the small box-shaped device.
Solas noticed that after the conversation, Ellana appeared downcast, her expression flat and aloof. As they processed her discharge paperwork, she gave him short answers, staying near silent as he helped her into his car and drove her home. He was relieved when she turned to him with a playful grin to ask him if he "... took pleasure in the radio station," that he had thoughtlessly selected, a melody of smooth jazz, the type of which Ellana assessed, "...aged one instantly ancient upon genuine enjoyment."
He had learned in the short amount of time he had known her that it was prudent to wait for Ellana to try something once herself before volunteering assistance. If she struggled, she would relent, but otherwise view any aid as unnecessary-even condescending. When he found a parking spot in front of her apartment building, he observed as Ellana struggled to unbuckle the seatbelt and open the car door. Looking at him furtively, she was about to speak, before shaking her head and attempting it again.
"Were you going to ask me to help you to your apartment?" Solas asked carefully.
She nodded, her face was reddening out of embarrassment, he guessed at needing to ask for additional help. Solas had walked around the car, carefully pulling her out of the low passenger seat. The walk up the short flights of stairs had taken a significant amount of time, simply because he had recognized her wordless requirement to do as much of the work as she could manage, her brow furrowed as she concentrated on each step. When they had reached her door, she had sunk to the floor in exhaustion and rummaged through her salvaged purse for her keys, a dark smear of blood staining the outside material.
"I'm so glad that the paramedics thought to grab my things. I'm afraid the catalog you gave me-"
"I have it," Solas offered. "Dagna is already planning to messenger you a fresh one."
He supported her balance as she stood to unlock her apartment. When she opened the door, she looked back at him with approval to observe his respectful distance in the door frame as he hoovered, waiting for an invitation to enter. With a loud sigh, she sunk onto her bed, studying his face again. For a moment, Solas steeled himself for a dismissal, only to hear Ellana call to him in a weary voice, "I think I need to ask for a bit more of your time, Solas. I'm sorry."
"Please don't apologize, I'm happy to help," he responded, watching Ellana curl up on her bed, drawing her knees up towards her chest. Her face was lined with exhaustion, her tan skin ashen. He felt an urge to stroke the sweaty hair out of her forehead, or rub her back to soothe her. A feeling of regret filled him as he realized again that due to the hurt he had caused her, such a privilege was forbidden to him.
Swallowing nervously, he pulled out the chair at her desk and sat down to survey Ellana's cohesively decorated apartment. The duvet cover on her bed, a deep teal with subtle white embroidery, complimented a rug of a mottled blend of untamed pinks and blues. Everything from the knick-knacks on her desk to the dishes on the open shelf in her kitchen was considered and artful; even the books on her large shelf were arranged first by color and then size. It seemed that Dr. Lavellan's consideration of aesthetics incorporated all areas of her life.
"You are very organized," Solas observed.
Ellana laughed, a slight look of pain flashing on her face as her chest shook, "Secretly, I'm an absent-minded professor type-I've just grown disciplined to keep everything as straightforward as possible, so it doesn't get out of hand. I was terribly messy until after graduating college. No roommate could tolerate me."
"I know what you mean," Solas responded, standing up to examine a print on the wall over her desk. It was a long-exposure photograph of the moon passing over a dark lake, the effect provoking him with a sense of wonder as he made out how the blurred edges of the orb bled into one another as if to memorialize the inevitable trail of its passage throughout the night.
"My friend, Fenris, he's an artist, gave that to me before I moved out of Minrathous," Ellana interrupted. "It's not one of his more complex works-conceptually-but I rather love it. It reminds me of a poem I read once about walking through a graveyard on your birthday, and that particular melancholic feel of celebrating the anniversary amongst the dead."
"That's a rather specific type of humor," Solas observed with a small smile. "I rather like it."
Ellana chuckled self-consciously, stopping with a jolt, as if she suddenly realized she was growing too comfortable in her openness. "I digress. I think I need some help before I can be on my own."
"Absolutely, what can I do?" Solas was heedful to keep his voice light and casual. He wanted to demonstrate his goodwill towards the young woman.
She sat up then. "I don't know if I can manage dinner. Also, I need to set-up the apartment so that I can manage on my own for the rest of the week."
"So you are going to listen to reason and refrain from teaching for the week."
"I don't have classes Tuesday, at least. I can make it to work on Wednesday if I rest tomorrow after rescheduling office hours."
"Dagna-"
"If you say Dagna can drive me back and forth to campus, I will have an aneurysm."
"Alright," Solas relented, he knew he was not in a position to negotiate any further. Otherwise, I would have pointed out to her as a neurologist I would have been able to treat such a thing...
She stood then, slowly making her way to the dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out a few fistfuls of fabric, before wobbling over to the bathroom, before gazing back at him with a grimace, "I can wait until after you leave to shower. Although, creators know, I need one."
"Ellana, these are desperate circumstances. Shower, and I'll make dinner. As a medical professional, I want to remind you that you are still under the influence of narcotics. You really shouldn't be alone, in the event you lose your balance and slip."
"That seems sensible," she admitted, returning to the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft slam. Solas could make out the muffled sounds of the shower curtain sliding open and then the rush of water.
Opening the refrigerator, He found several carefully arranged glass storage containers with fitted lids filled with pre-cut vegetables and what looked like chunks of tofu. Taking out two of the meals, he found a wok out of the dishrack, and began to prepare dinner. It was a simple task, and he couldn't repress the thought that perhaps Ellana had asked him to help her not because she needed it, but because she didn't want him to leave. More likely, so she didn't have to be alone. I can't shake, however, a sense that she is testing me.
As he spooned the dinner into two bowls, and found two forks-also in the dishrack, Ellana came out of the bathroom, toweling her hair dry. She was wearing a pair of black leggings, and an oversized Minrathous Institute of Technology sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. When she turned to pull her hair up into a messy bun at the top of her head Solas saw a gold dragon, the University's famous logo, embroidered on the back.
"Thank you," she said, accepting the bowl that Solas handed her after hanging the towel up on a hook in the bathroom, She sat in silence, cross-legged on her bed, occasionally glancing up at Solas with large hazel eyes, as he sat opposite from her on her desk chair. He observed with some distress that Ellana only picked at her food, mostly eating the fried tofu ignoring the vegetables.
"Not hungry?" he asked her when she set the bowl down.
"I want to be hungry," she replied sadly.
Before Solas could stop himself, he placed his hand on her forehead, checking her temperature. Ellana stiffened at his touch before she registered what he was doing, relaxing when he announced in a clinical voice, "You're cool to the touch. If you start to run a fever, you need to call Morrigan right away; it's a sign of infection."
"I should probably go to bed," Ellana said, nodding.
"That is a good idea. Did you need anything else?"
"It's a bit silly, but if you could unplug my laptop charger from underneath my desk, and plug it into the outlet next to the bed. -I wound the wire up the desk leg. I don't think I can manage to move the desk myself."
"Nor should you." Solas reminded her, walking over to the desk, flattening himself on the ground to untangle the cords. It took him a few minutes, but he brought the charger over to Ellana, who pointed to a spot of wall behind her bed. Kneeling again, Solas plugged the charger in, tucking the wires up through the headboard so Ellana would not lose it as she worked from her bed.
When he finished, he saw her stare at him with a strange expression on her face, somewhere between appreciation and apprehension.
"Solas," she said with a nervous tilt to her voice, "I don't know how to thank you for all your help. I judged you unfairly, you've been so kind to me."
"Ellana-" he said. "I apologize again for the hurt I caused you…"
"I'd be lying to say I wasn't still angry about the book review. Only-" her voice trailed off, and for a moment, Solas saw her eyes tracing the line of his jaw before swiftly averting her gaze again. "I look forward to working with you on this exhibition."
"Are you sure you'll be OK on your own?" he asked.
"I always am."
"Do you have the pager that-"
"Yes, hahren," Ellana teased dryly. "What I need is to sleep."
Solas paused, taking out his wallet and a pen from the breast pocket of the tweed blazer he was wearing rather inelegantly over his scrub. Pulling out a business card from one of its pockets, he used the surface of the wallet to write out two phone numbers on its back: one labeled "Dagna" and the other "Solas," before handing the card back to Ellana.
"Don't hesitate to text either one of us. I know I volunteer Dagna for an awful lot-but she's paid rather exorbitantly-and is always harassing me that I don't give her enough work. So don't hesitate to ask her for anything. I have a full rotation of patients throughout the week, so I don't always have the bandwidth to respond to texts in a timely fashion."
She had thanked him again, her voice drowsy. Standing, with a soft nod, he made his way to the doorway, insisting that she lock the deadbolt behind him. Solas was relieved when on the way to his car, he spotted a brawny, bearded man leaning against a street lamp, smoking a cigarette with what appeared like a bottle of beer wrapped in a brown paper sack in his hand.
His training had taught him not to even wink at the bearded man. Such an act would blow the spy's cover. However, the knowledge that Leiliana had dedicated one of her best agents to protect the art historian, made it easier for him to get in his car and drive away to his home. He took the long way home, driving up along the coastline, circling a few of the Val Royeux parks to gather his thoughts.
Inspecting his empty apartment, as he crushed the seltzer can before throwing it in the recycling bin, Solas grasped, perhaps fully for the first time, how much he wished that he had been able to ask Ellana to dinner all those months ago. Would she be here with him now, lounging on the sofa preparing lesson plans? Or would they be drinking a glass of red wine together, looking out at the city view? Creators knew he had plenty of bottles to share. No, he stopped himself before crawling up the stairs to his bedroom. Those are the dreams of another man.