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The Spectral Breath

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Chapter Eighteen: My Dear Apostate

At night the Brecillian forest was just as enchanting as it was deadly. Tales of Dalish origin spoke of wild sylvans prowling the undergrowth, whilst wolves stalked the barren lands in search of their next feast. Each in their own way could be believed, for in their nightly stay, both she and Solas heard the deep rumble of ethereal creatures in moans and whispers. In howls that reverberated in the distance, so awfully quiet that it ached her heart to think of one alone in such a place that she was. Still, in the alcove of a willow, kept sheltered from the still falling drizzle, she had to admit. She was contempt.

As a purveyor of magic herself, witnessing the apostate manipulate the natural forces into mere sparks for kindling brought a slight excitement into her tired bones. Magic meant everything to her, and her people and her culture. Perhaps that was why when she witnessed the raw element in the hands of another, though practised a different way, it warmed her far quicker than the actual flames.

Light from the fire cast faint shadows within their enclosed sanctuary. Since her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, that which initially greeted her paled a little to reveal keen slants to Solas' jaw and nose, in addition to the cushioned slope of a well-furred pauldron.

Lahris snuggled into the hollowed out cove as the rain continued to fall beyond her. Draped in a sash of fur from Solas' own pack, a restful silence overcame the two of them.

That was until Solas breathed a new sigh into the night. "I feel it is only fair you know more about me before I inquire into your past. Please, what would you know of me? I'll answer what I can."

"Where do you call home?"

"Home? Home is where I rest my head, da'len. It is occassionally ravished by giant spiders, like an old lord's castle is festered in webbs and flies. I usually leave bait and set wards, so they are usually contempt to let me dream undeterred... for a time at least..." He paused, smiling softly beneath his hood. "To an extent."

Lahris caught his small smile. Her lips rose in symmetry. "To an extent? That sounds like the beginning of an interesting tale."

"Oh? Perhaps it does. Though I'm sure my past experience of sleeping in spider lairs lack the lustre you imagine. I doubt it would make a remarkable story, and I'm sure there are many other questions that may entertain you more."

Lahris fell quiet, using the bristly furs of a dead wolf to warm herself. She shuffled her knees beneath her chin, and thought. "How long have you been alone, Solas?"

His eyes fell downcast. "It's been a long time. A... very long time." He hesitated. "Like many individuals I once had a family. But that was long ago, and reflecting on cherished memories when in the comfort of others so very rarely ends in my benefit."

"And now you wish me to speak of mine. Is that not the same?"

"I-...You may be right. Ir abelas, da'len. Like I said I would happily share in what I know, but some memories are too painful to surface. At least, for now. Likewise I would not wish you to share in anything you did not deem relevant. I would not pressure you. If you simply wished to stay a mystery, I would respect it."

Then I would be alone to my thoughts again, she thought, watching the rain ahead litter their hungry fire. Alone, again. He is so close to knowing... do I dare speak the truth?

"What made you so interested in my people, Solas? I understand the Dalish. They strive to uncover what was lost, but you never learned with them. You even seem to spite them, so why do you care for them at all?"

"Care?" he snorted before realising his mistake. The apostate turned to her - his eyes a sharp glimmer against the firelight that caused her breath to seize in her throat. There was sympathy in those eyes, along with something altogether ancient. Mournful passion. "Have you ever walked the glinting white coast of ancient Elvhenan to witness the sea of Bellanaris'vallas? The eternally setting sun? I once experienced a memory in the Fade that mimicked its beauty."

The apostate cast his focus into the fire. With the firelight playing in the silvery blue of his stare, she could easily witness the waves he spoke of. A clash of pearl sunlight over a crystal blue sea, whilst spirits in song shimmered within the depths.

"So few wonders remain of Elvhenan. I was fortunate to come across the Bellanaris'vallas. It was said thousands of elves would wait in abundan to catch a glimpse of the sun's rays across the surface, for it was believed to mirror the very birth of the nether, of times well before elvhen kind, and of the world's very first creation.

Humans believe in their Maker and Andraste. The Qunari place their trust in riddles. The Dalish prefer fantasy to facts. But I? If you were to see the rural force of nature at work in those currents... if you were to witness spirits, benevolent and benign, bow in the very presence of a single tear of divinity, then it would be difficult to believe in any one god. Or, in a god at all.

I have seen many things, da'len. I have seen things that would shake the very nature of man completely. Walking the memory of the coast is exactly how the Dalish strive for the past. No elf could ever touch the Bellanaris'vallas. The further you walked the more the tides drifted into obscurity. It was tempting, of course, but no more than brightly coloured fruit is tempting you to eat it. Only fragments of the sea would remain, and those few were merely cracked shells of a greater whole, never to be remedied. But would that prevent an elf from trying anyway? To attempt to recover what was lost, if to catch one more glimpse of that eternal sea one last time?

That, da'len, is why I once sought the Dalish. Now I'd never waste my time on the possibility that they might be saved. Because they will never change. Unlike I, they will never cease to strive for the sea. Whilst I must continue forward, until I might find a way to end this miserable cycle."

Lahris fell silent. The wisdom of his story resided within her as her mind played the scene twice. It was so strange to her. Yes, she had known of the Bellanaris'vallas. An uncommon beauty said to hold the hearts of princes. Her father had once dreamed of such a place. Of course, even as wealthy as her family was, she would never have been witness to its splendours. Tales and crewed paintings were the only depictions she had.

She allowed her thoughts to drift to the reason for their gathering. He spoke like her people. He reminisced like her. He sought understanding. That much was true. When she saw him she saw no trickery in his honestly curious glances, no deceit in his gestures or inquiries. He gave her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps it was time to step out of the shadows. Perhaps it was her time to follow in his steps into the white sands of her past, and finally free herself of following a reflection of reality. Perhaps it was time to share her burdens instead of locking them away in her heart.

Ash revas enathe i Solas.

Her freedom begins from Pride.

Through it all the apostate observed her curiously, sat as he was beneath the old creaking willow. The curve of his lips faltered and fell. His gaze struck her intently, as if his next words held significant importance. "If you don't mind, I have a question. With the Dalish there has always been one story passed through the generations. It is a matter stated amongst all their clans, a hope they always strive to recreate. An ancient city. Arlathan. Surely they have spoken of it? What did you think of their descriptions? Did you think they ever became even a fracture close to reality? Or did they get that wrong as well? I ask, for you say your Sahlin are different. But aren't their false truths just the same as the rest?"

There was hope in his stare. Hope she so rarely saw with him. And it saddened her, for she could not be the vision of history that he wanted. It was the same with many elves in her clan, despite them knowing only a part of who she truly was. To think she knew everything of her time, when in actuality she was merely a bystander to an ever-static era that she never thought to memorise. At least, not everything in vivid detail.

She nervously licked her lips, and shook her head. "I'm not sure I can comment. I'm not even sure what it was like myself. I heard stories. Arlathan was so far away from my home that we never ventured there, even through eluvians. I had academies and lecturers and fields and libraries to fill my time. I could explore the grounds around my father's estate. There were courts as well. I needed no other city to fill my wiles. Everything was close to home."

"Then would you tell me about them? I'd cherish your memories as I cherish the Fade."

So she spoke, of her beautiful home of Virellin masked in natural magics that could call rainbows to draw forth from clouds, and clouds to shimmer in shades. Of towers that glittered in both daylight and moonlight. Of fountains that granted wishes and boons. Of ocean creatures that floated within the air over the shores, and of the splenderous afternoon walks along her estate's gardens. Of the intrigues and mysteries of ancient courtrooms, and finally of her own family. Of the chivalry of her valiant brother. Of the innocence of her sweet sister. Of the gentle caress of her dear mother, as well as of the stern pride of her father, whom always held his love for her behind closed doors. They were nobility. Stone in the face of lower masses. Affectionate as any family when within closed walls.

In her reminiscence tears had freely fell. Laughs shook the forest to wake. Her fingers were left trembling against her arms like delicate pine-needles, yet despite the memories that slipped from her lips and knowledge that caught the evening breeze, a beaming smile was ever-present. Until she finished.

Solas throughout it all never spoke. When she eventually finished he cradled his hands in his lap and responded in tones of untapped wonderment, "How I envy you, to have seen a place that I could not."

"You shouldn't," she said, when her own joy gradually descended into much too familiar melancholy. "You really shouldn't. I remember home as if it was yesterday. Time... time doesn't mend a broken heart. Not for the eternal. It weaves and binds and creases into something intangible that never fades. Like the Bellanaris'vallas. You are the fortunate one, Solas. You grew from this foreign land. You never had to wake to find everyone so soulless. You can imagine Arlathan but never have to feel the pain of losing it. Sometimes I wish I never could remember such things. Sometimes I would rather forget what will never return."

His mouth thinned, though not in disappointment; simply at the answer itself and what it implied. To him memories were cherished above all else. Above treasure and kingdoms and incantations. For her to say such a thing must have been blasphemous. "You don't mean that."

"Don't I?"

He took her hands in his. It was only there, encompassed in the warmth of aged passion, that she realised how cold she truly was.

"The pain will be there for a time, but it will fade. The memories you hold never will. They should be treasured, because you are one of the last of the People. You cannot know how special you are."

He gently reached out and cupped her chin. "You change... everything. Spirits like yours are too far too few. That should not be wasted...

"Ever," he whispered, with a slow bow of his head.

For a brief instant she thought he would press his brow against her own. Close as they were, his slow breaths heated new life into her achy bones, and the comfort of his chest seemed so very tempting, as late in the night that it was. She was sure it was past midnight. Perhaps an hour over. To sleep on something soft that wasn't horse hide that would writher and neigh would have been bliss.

Lahris missed snuggling into pillows within the nook of a well proportioned bed. Feathered pillows and silken duvets with the scents of cherries on the quilts - her eyes begun to drift. The sudden comprehension of his statement swiftly shook her from her reverie.

The elvhen blinked, then pouted. "Everything? I... change everything?"

Solas suddenly freed his hands, forcing them to his sides. He coughed and hastily wiped the back of his neck. "I... I meant..."

Noticing the reddening tinge of his ears, her hands came to her lips to stifle a chuckle. She quickly grasped one of his hands again and dragged him closer to her. "Hahren," she drawled, cheekily batting her eyelashes, "don't be shy now. Tell me. What did you mean?"

"I... I meant..."

Lahris inclined her head, and noticed the way his gaze rested on the shift of her hair falling down her chest. "I do believe this apostate is turning plum. Oh, how adorable!"

"I-I am most certainly not, da'len, anything of the sort would be inappropriate-"

"Inappropriately mischievous, you mean?" The luster in her teasing slowly fell into mild concern. She withdrew her hands quickly. "I was only teasing, Solas. Seeing you flail is a funny sight. You meant it kindly. I know that."

His bashful grin drifted into a frown. "Yes, of course. A figure of speech. Nothing more."

"If you were to finish it differently, though, how would you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

"If you were to finish it like you cared, other than as my hahren and the status I am, how would you?"

A sudden pride enveloped him, and a confidence that truly had her freeze in her place. "I would tell you honestly. That you are unique. That despite the perills you endured, you rose above them all with a strength and wit that I had not seen since... since my journeyings into the ancient memories of the Fade. I thought a spirit like yours extinct. You showed me differently, even in the short time we've known each other. Knowing you has been a pleasure, Lahris Elgar'shiral. And I hope we... that... we continue... to be... close... and that I can share... with you... I... everything..." His breath fluttered over her chin.

In a subtle shift in their embrace their lips quietly met. Lahris lay still, numb to his touch, for his hand, so gentle, came to rest beneath the curve of her ear, to tilt her jaw ever-so-slightly his way. His lips softly drifted over her own with small pecks that were far too innocent to become something entirely passionate. Yet as butterfly-like as their blending caresses were, Var'sulahn felt nothing more than her mystifying new world float into a pleasantly dreamy silence. One that filled her with the bubbling rise of a first truly innocent romance.

Hearing a soft moan escape his throat drew the two of them slowly apart. Her focus danced across his face, with her eyes so dim and oval that she seemed to be in a trance. When he attempted to speak she touched his lips once more, if to revel in the cushioned taste of a trusted lover one more time before her inevitable asunder into reality.

One more moment, please.

She pleaded to Dirthamen. She pleaded to the Seven. She even dared to plead to Andraste. She needed it. She needed him, even if it meant that he would eventually turn askance to the Brecillian and forever leave her wanting something she knew he never truly yearned.

He was an apostate. A roamer. A wanderer. Free. Var'sulahn was a myth in all but memory. Lahris Elgar'shiral was a spirit attempting to fit in a world that was wrongly awry and askew. They would never fit. They were not symmetry. Even if they were, symmetry would not fit in such an imperfect world. It was destined for failure.

"I'm sorry," Solas whispered, and his every word shattered a piece of her heart into pieces. "I'm sorry," he moaned, gently kissing her lips until he grew accustomed to her warmth. Accustomed enough to remember. "I... I can't... it isn't right. Not for you."

He must have felt the chill of her tear before it slipped down her cheek. "Don't be sorry," she smiled, shaking her head. "Don't be. Ever. It was enough."

"You deserve better."

"I understand."

"I never planned on-"

"Kissing?"

"Yes, and no." He turned his attention to the glade, forcing his blush to diminish. "The kiss was impulsive. Ill-considered. I apologise."

Lahris forced herself to smile and quietly snuggled into his chest. The apostate suddenly froze, but the late evening had drained much of her energy, and when there was an embarrassing moment once upon a time, her younger sister would tackle the nearest person to cut the tension. Her own action was meant for the same effect.

Strangely, her tall frame fit perfectly into his with her knees draped leisurely over his knees. She drew hers close, sighing into the scents of woodland earth and marshes. His slow breaths heated her neck and shoulder, quickening to harsh pants when she nuzzled his neck and clutched the wolf fur dressing his chest.

He sloped into their alcove beneath the willow, resting his chin against her brow and slipping an arm around her waist. It was only loose yet his heat eased any tension from her wary muscles.

"Solas?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you be able to show me the Bellanaris'vallas in the Fade?"

He laughed then, a light and genuine laugh that had his shoulders rising and falling in time with the crackling fire. "Is that truly what you wish to see?"

"Yes."

He exchanged a brief glance with her, his gaze soft, before he returned to look at the sky. "Perhaps. Perhaps I could show you more." He felt her smile and held her closer.

"I will think of something."

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