PART TWO

CHAPTER TWELVE

Skyhold was a wonder in and of itself, and though dilapidated from years of disuse, its majesty captured the hearts of all who viewed it, Myra's included. The attack on Haven scared the refugees, but Skyhold brought them hope, its massive walls holding them safe within. Morale improved greatly after Myra accepted the role of Inquisitor, or so Commander Cullen told her.

"I hope I'm a good leader," she confided in him. "These people are dedicated. They deserve one."

"Do not sell yourself short," Cullen said, looking up from his table of plans. "You've done so much already."

Myra flushed a bit. Creators knew she couldn't take a compliment. She shuffled her feet. "Thank you."

When she glanced at Cullen, she saw his soft gaze and his lopsided smile. Her heart fluttered, but she crushed it quickly. "What happened in Haven…it was close. I'm grateful so many yet live," she said, looking around.

"As am I." His voice came out in a sincere murmur. He had not stopped looking at her.

Myra began to leave, only for the Commander to grab her arm.

"At Haven, you could have—" He stopped himself, shook his head, as if trying to shake the jumbling words together. "I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word."

He released her. She didn't know what to make of his comment, and his words still circled in her mind as her feet found their way to Solas's study. She focused on the present, studying the room from the doorway. An Inquisition agent called from behind her and she dodged out of the way as they carried in a rather ornate-looking desk and set it in the center of the room. The walls were bare, but judging by the paints stacked in the corner of the room and the pristinely folded cloths next to them, the walls wouldn't stay that way for long. A number of oddities occupied the room: one of the strange shards they'd found while adventuring, a wooden statue wrapped in elegantly curved silverstone, and more things that Myra could not properly identify. Another Inquisition agent carried in a stack of books.

"From the University of Orlais," the agent supplemented for the Inquisitor. "Josephine had them ordered per his request." The agent looked about, then turned to the Inquisitor. "Any idea where he wants them?"

Myra smirked a bit. "Apparently, I'm the expert on all things elven apostate."

The agent laughed nervously. "I just figured since you two seem close…"

She smiled. "I'll take them. Thank you." She carried the stack and set them on the rather ornate couch standing against the wall. She plopped into its comfortable, cream cushions and started to sort through the titles. Most of them regarded history, lore, or magic, unsurprisingly. She opened a book concerning Andrastian lore and began reading.

"I see you have made yourself comfortable."

Myra closed the book quickly and shot up. "Solas, I—ir abelas, hahren, I meant no harm."

"And no harm was done. I am curious, which title caught your interest?"

Myra flushed and embarrassedly held up the text by Genitivi. "I've been accompanying Fennec to the Chantry services. I suppose I wanted to learn more. Mother Giselle is a good speaker."

"Do you believe the Chantry's stories?" Solas asked. He began to sort through the books on the couch and organized them.

Myra sat on the arm of the couch. "That's all they are: stories. Just like the Dalish's stories of their gods. The truth is far more complex."

"It pleases me to hear you say such." Solas finished sorting his books and placed one, regarding the First Blight, on his desk for future study.

"I like the décor, by the way."

Solas looked back to her and smiled a bit. He approached where she sat on the arm of his couch. "How does it feel to live in a castle?"

Myra sighed romantically and fell onto the couch's cushions. "Like there are so many stories that have filled these halls and I don't have access to any of them." She looked at him. "This place is old."

"Very old," Solas said.

"How did you find it again?" she asked.

Solas sat beside her. "I found it while dreaming in the area."

She scooted and rested her head in his lap. Solas's hand twitched in hesitation before petting her hair.

"It's truly amazing," she said, "the things you learn while dreaming."

"It's at your fingertips the moment you sleep."

"You know I can't sleep."

"A problem easily remedied."

"Fair." Myra studied the tooth necklace he wore around his neck. Solas continued to pet her hair. The sound of Inquisition soldiers cleaning up the throne room outside carried into Solas's study.

"…I'd like to hear more of your studies," Myra said after a comfortable silence, "if that's alright."

Solas gave her a small smile. "You continue to surprise me. Alright, let us continue, preferably somewhere more interesting than this." He leaned close and caressed her face. He smelled of parchment with a hint of the wild.

Myra flushed. "What are you—?"

Solas smirked. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Myra breathed.

"Then," he said, "sleep."

Solas and Myra approached Haven. The Chantry overlooked them.

"Why here?" Myra asked, following Solas past the front gates.

"Haven is familiar," Solas said. "It will always be important to you."

He led her down to the dungeons. Myra remembered Cassandra and Leliana's interrogations. She shivered.

"I sat beside you while you slept," Solas said, staring at the floor where Myra had once been chained. "I studied the Anchor."

"Ma serraanas, lethallin," Myra said. "I'm grateful someone was watching over me."

"You were a mystery," Solas continued. He turned to her, studying her with that sharp gaze of his. "You still are."

Myra flushed.

"I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade, yet found nothing." Solas shook his head. "Cassandra began to suspect duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn't produce results."

"Of course she would," Myra sighed. "Ir abelas, hahren. I never meant to cause you grief."

"There was nothing you could have done," he said. He touched her arm gently, beckoning her to follow him outside. The air was crisp and cold outside the Chantry's shelter. Snow crunched underfoot.

"You were never going to wake up," Solas said. "How could you? A mortal sent physically through the Fade…I was frustrated, frightened…" His expression turned pained at the memory. "The Spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach. Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra, or she in me… I was ready to flee."

"Where to?" Myra murmured.

Solas smiled lightly. "Someplace far away, where I could research ways to repair the Breach before it reached me." He smirked. "I never said it was a good plan."
He stepped towards where the Breach stood in the sky. "I told myself, 'One last attempt to seal the rifts.'" He outstretched his hand, then made a fist and pulled it back. "I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them. I watched the rifts expand and grow. Resigned myself to flee…and then…" He took a sharp breath of air, as if recalling the moment Myra sealed her first rift.

"I felt the whole world change," he said.

"Felt the whole world change?" Myra could hardly believe it. Did he truly return her feelings for him? From the very start?
"A figure of speech," Solas said quickly.

"I'm aware." Myra took cautious steps closer to him. "I suppose I just thought…"

Solas placed a hand on her face as she drew closer. "You change everything."

Myra felt the overwhelm of emotion, her heart fluttering and soaring. She dived in for the kiss, a quick peck, cautious, guarded.

His lips didn't move.

Frowning, she turned away, suddenly feeling so foolish.

"Ir abelas," she murmured and began to walk away, only for Solas to grab her hand and pull her into him.

"Din'dirthera ma abelas," he said.

He kissed her with such passion, Myra's knees buckled beneath her. He held her steady by her hips. When she found her footing once more, she wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands traveled elsewhere, groping her. She moaned only to have his tongue slip between her lips. Breathing heavily, she rocked her hips against his. This was all very much. Very, very much.

Suddenly, he pulled away. His eyes were pained. "No, this isn't right. Not even here."

"Here?" Myra asked.

"Where do you think we were?" Solas said, his expression turning catty.

Realization struck Myra. "This isn't real."

"That is a matter of debate," Solas said. "Something we can discuss when you…wake up!"

Myra shot awake in bed. She was in her quarters; she'd never left Skyhold.

Sighing, she sunk back into bed, flushing bright red. "That kiss, that kiss!"

There was a knock on the door. Myra slapped a hand over her mouth. Her cheeks burned.

Knocking again. "Da'len?"

She attempted to fix her hair and clothes all-at-once. "Yes? Yes? The door is open!"

The door opened and Solas entered her quarters.

"Hahren," she greeted.

Solas smiled a little, but only a little before his expression turned somber. She patted a spot on the bed next to her but he did not join her, he merely leaned against the desk and stared out to the balcony.

"I came here immediately upon waking. I…needed to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"The kiss. It was…impulsive and ill-considered…and I shouldn't have encouraged it."

"Don't say that," Myra clutched the bed sheets. "I…Ir abelas, hahren. I did not mean to offend."

"No, da'len, din'dirthera ma abelas. It has been a long time," he said, "and things have always been easier in the Fade." He shook his head and looked back to the balcony once more. "I am not certain this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble," he said.

"I'm willing to risk it," Myra said. "If…you are…"

"Maybe…yes…if I could take a little time to think…" He spoke quickly between pauses. "There are…considerations."

"Take all the time you need." Myra got out of bed, hardly caring that her hair was a mess of curls and her clothes were twisted. She shuffled over and hugged him.

He jolted a bit, then allowed himself to relax, wrapping his arms around her. "Ma serraanas, da'len," he said, petting her wildly curly hair.

"Din'dirthera," Myra said, her smirk in her voice. Solas's chest rumbled as he chuckled.

And there they stood for what felt to Myra like half of forever, simply holding each other, safe in the other's arms.