Note: I have gone back and considerably revised the first two chapters for typos, etc.

THE SAME NIGHT

Solas blushed despite the cold air: "I suggest you sleep, da'len."

Neria turned over away from him, a disgruntled groan escaping her pursed lips.

"I knew...I knew you would dance...with me t-tonight" she slurred at him.

"Is that so young one?" he asked shortly.

"Dorian said, you wouldn't be able to resist..." she broke off passing out suddenly in sleep.

He rose slowly, walking away from the bed to the brocade lounge chair. Picking up a book that Neria had left flung open on the floor he started to page through the musty tomb. He was unpleased to see it was the book he had leant her last week, a tomb on Fade magic, now damaged from her wayward tossing…and with a wine stain on several of the pages he flipped through.

He sighed. Looking around the room he could see the earlier preparations of the Inquisitor—and who he assumed must be Dorian—empty wine glasses were left about carelessly like knick knacks amongst exotic fabrics strewn across the floor like tropical foliage. Was her entire aim to seduce me?

Neria's undignified snores rose in the air, Solas could relax. He would stay up with her a bit longer.

She must be intoxicated. She never snored.

He was amused at how much time he seemed to spend with her while she was sleeping. To be more specific, he was amused at how much time he spent with her while she was sleeping while they were not in the Fade. In fact, when at Skyhold she seemed to fall asleep on a chair in his study two or three nights a week after joining him after all of the castle's business had been settled. Sometimes she would read quietly, other times she would watch him paint as though in a trance. The two never talked about it with each other, as though it would call attention to how inappropriate the intimacy of their shared silence was.

That and the kiss. She was trying to seduce him.

The Kiss. How could he forget the kiss. It had been impulsive, a mistake. It was not that he regretted the act, no—he was frightened. It had unlocked too many emotions in him. He could no longer keep his infatuation under the surface.

It had only been a week. The first two or three days after even he, uncharacteristically, light-footed and happy. He had even caught himself humming in the Chantry garden. It was as though he was young again. Blackwall had even commented on it when Solas was too distracted to best him at cards. Now, however, enough time had past for Solas to understand the gravity of what had happened.

Neria had asked him to show her what the Face was like. He wasn't quite sure how she had convinced him. Purely, academic, she had claimed.

Looking back, he couldn't be so sure. While Neria operated with mostly earnest intentions, she had these moments of slyness. He had first attributed these to Dorian's rambunctious influence—but one could only blame the Tevinter for so much.

There they were then, walking through Haven. He had recalled to her for the first time the details of her arrival in the prison, the closing of the Breach when…

…when he stumbled and finally confessed that at her arrival "he felt the whole world change."

She had grabbed him then, leaning in before he could stop her, kissing him with such ardor, such passion. He pulled away, only to reach out for her, pulling her in for kiss after deep kiss. He closed his eyes to picture the moment again, as though he could taste her mouth.

He had to be more careful now. He had to figure a way to end this without no hurt feelings. Before the kiss he was sure the feelings were just one sided. Neria, was young, perhaps this was just a passing dalliance...he had been hopeful that the dashing Dorian, or the stead-fast Cullen, would capture her attention. While it would have been a kind of torture to watch the romance unfold, it would be better for her in the long run. To be honest, he was beginning to see that his passion was not just...lust but something about Neria captivated him in a way he had not felt...well he had not felt since his very ancient youth. He loved her. No, he would not let himself love her. He had to end this. He had to end this quickly.

—

A MONTH LATER

Neria stood overlooking the river the flowed through the Exalted Plains. They were camping for the evening on the outskirts of the one of the Dalish camps after trudging most of the day through the rough terrain from the Inquisition's camp on the outskirts of the territory. She had stolen away from her Dalish brethren for a moment of peace. In the distance she could hear Iron Bull and Dorian laughing around the camp fire exchanging tales of horror and bravado with the tribe's storyteller.

She smiled to herself—in times of war, old prejudices died quickly.

While the Dalish clan had greeted them skeptically at first, they had gradually won them over through small acts of kindness, and regular deliveries of meat and metal. She could tell the two camps felt safer camping near one another with the unstable undercurrents of demon rifts in the area.

She was enjoying the quiet of the late hours on the bank of the river to think.

Neria was confused. To use the word to describe her feelings was an understatement. Since their arrival at Skyhold she had felt her relationship with Solas deepening. His coldness had given way to an affection that at first she thought of as watchful, but then she caught on that it was more. She couldn't say she wasn't she had been swept up in the turmoil of the Breach, its closing, and then the surfacing of Corypheus life had become to take on new and unexpected turns. Her attraction to Solas, at least 20 years her senior, was one of them. Neria suspected he was not what he seemed. She knew he was no demon—no maleficent spirit—but she could not determine what he was or where he had come from.

There was one thing she did know, and that was he was, to put it as Dorian and Iron Bull did: a moody elf bastard.

One minute she could feel him opening up, responding to her affections, the next, he went back to ignoring her except for business.

Her confusion with Solas was slowly giving away to annoyance. They were in the Exalted Plains because of him after all. He had asked her rather pitifully yesterday morning to travel with her and save one of his friends from the Fade. She couldn't resist…of course she wanted to help…especially if she would be rewarded with him letting down his guard again…

Ever since the Harvest Ball he had been so removed, refusing to travel with her and leave his study. At night when she went to visit his study he was nowhere to be found. She had confronted him, only to be met with scolding: "Neria, I must study," "Neria, I have work to attend to," and the one that irked her the most, "Neria, shouldn't you see if Dorian needs something?"

She his wasn't quite sure what had changed.

Sighing she resigned herself not to think of Solas. Tomorrow, they would cross the river and rescue Solas' friend. Whatever otherworldly mystery that preoccupied him would reveal itself. She couldn't control his emotional whims.

The air was heavy and thick. The smell of burning bodies from the northern areas was carried by the wind, even this far approached the flowing water and stripped out of her boots and walked to the banks of the river, playfully pushing her toes in the comforting feel of cold sand. She stood like this for some time, enjoying a space where she didn't have any demands on her attention except the chirping of crickets in the background.

Suddenly, Neria tense hearing someone approaching her. She could feel the hair rising on her neck in fear, turning she saw a figure approach her, the outline of broad shoulders and strong gait was unmistakable. It was Solas.

He raised his hand to calm her. "Neria," he said in low register, "I didn't mean to startle you, only to warn you of what we might find tomorrow."

She walked out of the water, beckoning for him to sit next to her in a patch of try grasses. She watched as he gracefully sat, even his mundane movements seemed elegant to her.

"What are you worried about Solas?" she asked, noting they had returned to first names, no endearments.

"I fear…I fear that what we will find will no longer resemble the Spirit we once knew…walking the Fade this afternoon I felt unrest, such anger. I don't know if I can return to that place tonight."

"Then…then let's wait out the night." She said suggestively raising her eyebrow. Maybe he would respond?

Solas crinkled his nose like he always did when he was annoyed or upset.

"Neria, this is not a game!" He growled.

"Solas, I just want to be helpful!"

"This isn't helpful, this isn't some sort of drunken romp of Dorian's."

Neria could feel the tension that had been building over the last few weeks in the undertones of Solas' rage. She began to cry silently, a few tears running down her face. She indignantly stood up facing the elf at her full—although rather short—height.

"Solas! I have had enough" she could hear herself screaming. The laughter in the distance of the camp stop, she could feel eyes on her.

He swallowed, crossing his arms impatiently. He put a hand up as though to silence her.

"NO!" she kept screaming, "First you ask me to come here, to save your friend, and then you are a miserable asshole. What do you want fro me? You lecture me, you tell me things I already know. I know that this is no romp. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She paused, looking at him for an answer, continuing when he gave none but a blankly staring face, "You don't know…everything. You ignore me, you belittle me for months, and then…then you open up. What is your problem? You kissed me and then pretended it didn't happen!"

In the background she could hear both the catcalls of Iron Bull and the gasp of Dorian. The younger elves snickered. Solas slowly rose, backing away from her.

"I might be half your age ha-h-ren. But at least I know what I want!" Neria's tears continued down her face. She turned on her heel, stomping off towards the sea of aravels and gawky faces. She didn't stay to watch Solas stand speechless at the bank of the river, or gather her forgotten boots and walk off into the night…