By the time she works up the nerve to walk down the hall to the common area, Solas isn't even in the room. As her shoulders release tension she does not realize she is carrying, she walks out into the room and over to the kitchenette to make up a small platter for breakfast. She wanders over to his desk and sits down, examining the maps spread out there as she munches on a piece of dried meat.
A few hundred dots of varying colors are scattered across a map of Thedas, though none of the familiar names of countries or cities exist on this particular delineation. Instead, only the word 'Elvhenan' is scrawled across the top with tidy penmanship. She bends low to examine a cluster of dots near what would become modern-day Kirkwall and jumps suddenly when a hand comes down on her shoulder.
"Good morning," Solas says quietly as she turns to face him. A guilty look comes over her features and she stares up at him.
"I—I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to snoop," she stammers as a blush creeps up her neck.
"If there was something I did not wish for you to see," he says in a kind voice, "then I would not leave it out in the open." He smiles and moves his hand away, walking towards the bedroom for a change of clothes. She finds herself staring stupidly at his unclothed torso once again, and she is thankful that his back is toward her so he can't see the blush rising on her face.
Stop it, she thinks to herself furiously. Just because you've kissed once or twice doesn't mean you can gawk at him like he's a bloody buffet.
She finishes her meal just as Solas walks back out into the room and busies himself at the hearth, stirring some type of liquid in a large kettle that hangs in front of the fire.
"This should be ready in time for dinner," he says to her, his back still turned.
"Oh, okay," she responds nonchalantly. Though... "…what will be ready, exactly?"
Solas turns and smiles at her. "Stew. Rabbit, to be exact. Do you have rabbits in your time?"
"Of course we have rabbits," she chuckles as she stands and walks over to him. She decides not to regale him with the truth of the insult the word 'rabbit' has taken on in her day, hurled towards elves as often as 'knife-ear.' Shaking her head a little, she turns her attention back towards the kettle. The scent of the broth has not yet begun to permeate the air, but she knows by this evening it will have her mouth watering. "It's one of my favorites, actually."
"Good," he says and he steps out into the middle of the room. "Shall we continue our lessons in the meantime?" She picks the orb up from its resting place on a shelf and joins him at the center of the room.
"Just tell me what to do," she encourages.
They spend the next several hours working on her technique. Her biggest problem thus far, Solas explains, is that she tends to reach for her magic the same way she had in her own time. With the Veil in place, magic is harder to reach, and therefore requires more focus and a more aggressive approach. But here, with no Veil to hinder her, when she attacks it the same way, it has the consequence of coming out in excess. Instead of a trickle of water, she gets a roaring river. Instead of a bit of frost, she gets an entire glacier.
By the time the scent of the rabbit becomes too distracting to continue, she realizes sourly that she still has a long way to go. She had been able to control her magic without holding the orb only once or twice out of a few hundred attempts. She knows she won't be able to rid herself of a lifetime of habits in just a few short hours, no matter how good a teacher Solas is, but it is still frustrating to her to have to remain so patient.
"Do not fret, lethallan. You will get it. The children of this time are not born into the world already knowing the intricacies of their power. Everyone must learn the proper methods."
"Thank you, ha'hren," she teases lightly as he scoops some of the stew into wooden bowls for their dinner. He glances up at her, something behind his eyes she doesn't recognize.
"Do I seem so much older than you?" he asks quietly as they sit down to eat. She glances up at him, suddenly understanding the look she'd seen in him earlier.
"Solas, I was only joking about the 'ha'hren' thing. But…" she trails off, lost in her thoughts. "Well, I'm certain you must be much older than me. However, I'm an adult, and so are you. So I don't care how much older you are."
He stares at her for a moment before leaning forward and saying, "How old are you?"
"Twenty-six. Why?"
Solas sits back, a look of relief falling over his face. "You had me worried for a moment, that is all. Yes, I am older, but only perhaps by a few millennia."
A few millennia? She blanches and peers at him again, suddenly lightheaded as suspicion begins to climb in her mind. "Solas…when I say twenty-six, what do you think I mean?"
His brow furrows slightly in confusion. "Why, twenty-six hundred of course. Certainly you did not actually mean twenty-six, you would be no more than a child." He chuckles at this, as though the idea is completely ludicrous.
Her face falls as her suspicions are confirmed. "Solas…" she begins carefully. "Solas, in my time, an elf might be lucky to reach eighty or ninety before dying. We—we aren't immortal anymore. I came of age eight years ago. I've been an adult for eight years."
Solas gapes at her, looking completely thunderstruck. "Eighty or ninety?" he breathes. "You would be lucky to…to reach…"
She gives him a moment to let the information sink in. She can't imagine it's easy, learning that your entire race lives and dies in what must feel to him like the blink of an eye.
"When?" he says at last, his voice barely more than a whisper. "When did we lose our immortality?"
"Well, nobody really knows, the records from that time are virtually nonexistent. But…" She screws up her eyes as she struggles to remember her childhood history lessons. "They believe it happened sometime around the Fall of Arlathan. Which was… I'm not really sure. I'm sorry, Solas. As I said, there really aren't many records, and those that do exist are from the Tevinter Imperium. I doubt the Dalish will ever get their hands on them."
Solas says nothing for the next several minutes, simply opting to sit there before her in total silence, staring off into the distance. The rut between his brows grows deeper with each passing second. Hoping to pull him from his despair, she reaches out and lightly touches his hand. He flinches so violently that she herself startles and his eyes meet hers with something like amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Would you—" she begins, but doubt clouds her and she falls silent.
"Lethallan, if it will take my mind off of this wretched future of yours, I am all ears," Solas presses, his intense gaze boring into her.
"Could you… Well, earlier you said you could remove the vallaslin. I…there are things about my time that have displeased you, that much is obvious. But there are things about your time that I find displeasing as well. To know that the vallaslin signified we were nothing more than chattel, nothing more than fucking animals to our so-called fucking gods, to know that our people can't even remember, and they just strut around brandishing them at the city elves like they make us so much more fucking superior!" She is shouting at this point, but a look of deep distress takes over her features, forcing her shoulders to sag and her voice to fall to no more than a whisper. "But they had it right all along. Maybe it's better to just forget all together than it is to remember a false history."
Tears spill forth from her eyes before she can stop them and she reaches up to furiously sweep them away. Alarmed by her sudden outburst and swift transition into anguish, Solas reaches out and pulls her into an embrace. The gesture sends her completely over the edge and she begins to sob in earnest against his shoulder.
"How could we have been so stupid?" she says with a muffled wail into Solas.
"If the records are not there, it is hardly anyone's fault. Except mine, perhaps, for not ensuring some records could withstand time to make it to your era. Now that I know, I will do all that I can to prevent it from occurring. We will go to Vir Dirthara and ensure the survival of our knowledge. And…" He pulls away and tilts her chin up so that she is looking straight into his eyes. "I will remove your vallaslin." She sniffles and rubs her red, swollen eyes before nodding.
He moves away then, settling on his knees before her and gesturing for her to do the same. Once she is seated, he reaches out and hovers his hands at the sides of her face and begins the spell to remove her markings. Blue light flashes from his hands, bathing her face in its iridescence. Her eyes close against the glow and he slowly moves his hands up and over her head. Finally, his hands come to rest at the back of her head and she opens her eyes to find Solas gazing at her with such an intensity, she feels her cheeks redden.
"Ar lasa mala revas," he whispers, and tears spring anew in her eyes.
"I am free," she repeats slowly before leaning in and meeting his lips with such tenderness, he cannot help but to melt into her, pulling her into his arms to deepen the kiss. When they finally break away from one another, Solas reaches up and strokes her cheek.
"You are so beautiful," he says reverently, his eyes traveling over her unmarked face with reckless abandon. She blushes fiercely under his scrutiny and offers him a shy smile.
"Thank you," she says. "For everything."
"It was my pleasure, lethallan." They sit there for a moment in comfortable silence until she attempts to suppress a large yawn. "You should get to sleep. It is far past your bedtime, young one," he teases as he tweaks her nose. She nods sleepily and heads off to bed after a gentle squeeze to his hand.
Solas sits there for several minutes as the room grows dark around him, the only light coming from the hearth. He flicks his hand unconcernedly and small orbs of light flare to life around the room. With a sigh, he stands and walks out his front door, following the familiar path to the back structure where he keeps his Eluvian. With a flash of light, he steps through and vanishes from sight.
Back in the bedroom, she is snuggled down in the soft, downy bedding. She snores softly, unaware of the eyes that watch her from the forest outside her window. She turns over in her sleep, oblivious to the figure that has just pulled itself through the opening in the wall. She sighs and mumbles a response in her dream conversation, completely unsuspecting of the shadow that now looms over her. It is not until it clamps its hand down over her mouth and yanks her upright that she becomes cognizant of the danger she now faces.
Unable to scream, she kicks out her feet at her assailant, who responds by squeezing her face even harder. She reaches for her magic in a blind panic and the scent of sizzling flesh and ozone invades her nostrils as her attacker lets out a shout of pain. She reaches again for her energy, but all at once she feels it dampening, as though someone has thrown a heavy woolen blanket over it. Her arms are wrenched behind her and lashed together at the wrist. A thick rag is shoved into her mouth and a dark strip of heavy linen is bound around her eyes, blocking all light from her vision. Finally, the invader lifts her from the bed before shoving her over to the window and jerking her out into the night air.
She is forced to walk blindly through the thick forest for what feels like hours until her legs finally give out from beneath her and she crumples to the ground. As she lies face down in the dirt, she hears the sound of distant footsteps coming closer and closer. They stop near her head and she feels herself being pulled back up into a standing position.
Her blindfold is yanked off and she blinks rapidly as the morning light sears into her retinas. A figure stands before her, and as it comes into focus, she tries to cry out before remembering the rag in her mouth. She opts to step back instead but hands from behind grab her shoulders and force her to stay still.
"Remove the gag and give her water," Andruil commands in a cool tone to match her expression. The girl before her startles at her words and begins to tremble, but acquiesces to having water poured down her throat. Andruil reaches out and runs a finger over the smooth skin of the girl's cheek.
"Sylaise said you belonged to Fen'Harel, and yet here I see no markings. Tell me, child, were your vallaslin nothing more than an illusion?"
"I—y-yes," the girl stutters after a moment, her eyes wide with fear. Andruil grins wickedly before reaching a finger beneath the girl's chin and tipping her face upward.
"Then I suppose he will not mind if I claim you for myself. Sylaise was right; there is a power within you that should not be possible amongst the lesser People. It is most curious… I wonder why I could not feel it before. Were you hiding it from me?"
A look of panic flickers over her face and she remains silent, her eyes lowered to the ground for fear that Andruil might somehow be able to read the truth in them.
"No matter," Andruil says softly before pulling her arms behind her back and turning away from the insolent creature before her. "Take her to the palace and have her prepared for marking. She will be mine before the morning is over and then I shall have my answers, as well as a weapon stolen straight from beneath the interfering dog's nose. He should learn to keep better watch over his pets."
The world goes dark again as the blindfold is returned to its place over her eyes. Before she can protest further, the rag is shoved roughly back into her mouth. Hands push her from behind and she stumbles forward again, to places unknown.