READ THIS WARNING
Partway through this chapter, there will be a flashback. It will be two paragraphs all in italics. This flashback contains what I would call dubious consent under the duress of duty. I do not believe that duty makes it okay, but at the same time I do not fully consider what I have written to be truly classified as rape. Both parties have given their permission, but in her heart of hearts, it is not what she wants. There is no force or coercion involved; both are merely doing the duties expected of them. The idea of such a ritual is horrific and barbaric and it is meant to be so for this story.
I am a person who has experienced assault and I would never write something like that lightly. There have been times I have engaged in intimacies with my partners when I wasn't really in the mood to for whatever reason, and I did it because I desired the happiness of my partner. It would not be fair of me to then tell them that they were wrong to do it. I was capable of saying no, but I chose not to. This will be a similar thing. If this is something that would trigger you, skip the two italicized chapters. It will not ruin the story to skip them, though the content will be mentioned later in the story to Solas. I will provide warnings at that point as well. Please let me know if it is too distasteful or if I have overstepped boundaries here. I have tortured myself over this scene, but I feel that it is necessary for what happens later on.
She is marched forward at a never-ending pace. The hands of the one who had taken her, who had presented her to Andruil, now rest on her shoulders, leading her forward. Sometimes the hands push when her legs threaten to give out and she slows to a crawl. Sometimes they pull back when her legs actually do give out and she stumbles.
They march for an eternity, until the ground beneath her changes and her bare feet slap against cool tile. The hands yank her to a halt and she feels a pulse of energy a short distance ahead of her before being shoved forward again. The familiar sensation of an Eluvian washes over her and she tries to keep herself from falling forward and sprawling out on the ground. Her feet refuse to find purchase and she ends up falling anyway, landing roughly on the gritty road of the In-Between. The hands jerk her upright again and they begin the next eternity of travel.
After she is pushed through a second Eluvian, this time without falling on her face, she feels more cold tiles beneath her toes and theorizes she must be in the palace Andruil mentioned. The hands keep pushing her forward, down echoing halls and through hushed rooms. Finally, she is shoved once more and she lurches forward, falling belly down onto the floor. Her breath whooshes out in a grunting huff and she hears a door click shut behind her. Almost immediately, there are hands on her, pulling her up into a sitting position. These hands are gentle and unhurried, softly brushing against her cheeks as they untie her blindfold.
She blinks against the sudden onslaught of light and sees a slight Elvhen woman kneeling before her, her vallaslin unfamiliar and bold across the ivory skin, its simplicity revealing her as a lower slave. Though if she is one of Andruil's, then it stands to reason the markings are hers as well, lost to time in the future. The woman's gaze meets hers with kindness and she feels tears begin to well up in her eyes. She had begun to think she would never know sympathy in this distant past from any except Solas.
"My lady, I have been instructed to bathe and dress you in preparation for your binding ceremony," the Elvhen whispers. "I am sorry, but I am not to remove your shackles."
The woman cuts the white sleepshirt from the girl's body and carries over a wooden bucket that holds steaming hot water from a fire rune set in its bottom. After a thorough scrub, she is dressed in a simple shift with button-up sleeves so that the woman is able to put it on her without having to release her from her bindings. The blindfold is replaced and the woman steps from the room, leaving her to stand there in wait of the next requirement.
After several long minutes, she feels a slight shift in the air and realizes the door has opened again before the rough hands find her shoulders once more and push her forward. Her feet patter against the cold floor as she is marched down corridor after corridor.
Creators, how will I ever escape from this maze? she wonders to herself as her hope for freedom dwindles and withers with each step of her forced parade. When she is finally tied down to a hard surface, the blindfold is removed and she stares into the face of an entirely unsympathetic Elvhen man bearing a more complex version of the vallaslin she'd seen on the woman who had bathed and dressed her. Almost every square inch of his face is covered in detailed little lines and shapes and she knows then that this man must have a high standing with Andruil. She tentatively reaches for her magic again now that her shackles are gone, but the dampening effect is still in place and she releases her attempt immediately.
"You will not shout out or whimper or make any sounds during the ritual. If you do so, your life will end immediately," the man booms down at her. She has a sudden flashback to Alexius standing over her as she lay bound on his table, but she pushes the image from her mind and forces herself to concentrate on the here and now. She had not been allowed to make any sounds during her own coming-of-age ceremony with her clan, but the consequences of doing so had not been so dire. It simply meant walking around with a half-finished marking for a month. By the time one was allowed to try again, they were so humiliated they were able to get through it without so much as a peep.
Panic begins to rise within her as she watches the man ready his tools. As he picks up a thin instrument and brings a fire to his fingertips to bathe the end of the tool in, she can feel the fear and revulsion bubbling up inside her like vomit. The man releases the flame and dips the white hot apparatus into a small pot of black ink and she resists the urge to scream even as her vision begins to spark and flash from the energy that courses through her veins. When the man lowers the pen to her skin, she closes her eyes and prepares for the pain, her pulse shouting in her ears.
But the pain never comes. The man shouts out the moment the hot instrument ghosts upon her face, but she never feels it burn her. Her eyes pop open and she twists her head to locate the man. He is standing several feet away by this point, holding his throat as his eyes grow larger and his face redder. Before she knows what is happening, the man drops to the floor and twitches for a moment before falling still.
She allows herself to rake in a desperate gasp of air. As her chest heaves, she pulls at the bindings at her ankles and wrists and nearly cries out in shock as they fall away with the slightest provocation from her. She sits up and takes in her surroundings. She is in a large, windowless box of a room. White tiles gleam from all around her, covering the walls, floor, and ceiling. She spots a lone door at the far side of the room and quickly swings her legs over the side of the table and hops down. She sprints to the door, her heart in her throat and her pulse in her ears.
She reaches for the door, wishing desperately she'd had more time to learn from Solas. If she could control herself better, she might be able to get out of this place without needing to kill anyone else. Something in her knows, however, that it will not be so simple. As she pushes open the door and steps out into a wide corridor, she feels exposed and vulnerable at the lack of anything to hide behind.
Cautiously, she takes a step in a random direction. When no one pops out to capture her, she takes another, then another, until finally she is walking swiftly down the hall. There seem to be no doors to duck through, and so she keeps going, staring straight ahead until she reaches the end of the corridor and turns a corner. Then a shout echoes out behind her and she picks up speed in a panic.
The maze of endless hallways keeps her running for several minutes until finally, she comes upon a door nestling almost indiscernibly against the white tiled walls. She falls through the door and pushes it shut, sinking to floor in front of it to try to catch her breath. She is in a tiny room, a lone bed against the wall the only evidence of habitation.
This is stupid, they'll find you here! she thinks to herself as she wills her burning lungs to slow their heaving. She hadn't seen anyone behind her when she ran into the room, but after only a couple seconds of gasping on the floor, something heavy slams into the door at her back. She jumps to her feet and looks at the door in terror, backing up towards the wall. The backs of her knees hit the bed and she nearly falls over, but she forces herself to remain standing and raises her hands into a defensive position.
The door swings open with a crash and the man from before—not dead, just passed out— looms over her with a menacing anger. She reacts without thinking, her hands thrashing out with magic she hadn't realized she'd reached for.
A slash of ice flashes in the air before them and then disappears again as quickly as it had come. The man just stares at her and at first she thinks nothing has happened, his expression unwavering from its viciousness. Then he takes a step forward and his face transforms into a look of abject horror as a long line of red appears across the chest of the white robes he wears. Within seconds, the entire upper portion of the garment is dyed red with his blood. His face turns grey and his eyes begin to glaze over as his blood pours from his body quicker than his scrambling hands can heal the wound.
His shoulders slump and his whole body pitches forward. She tumbles backwards onto the bed to avoid his falling mass and he thunks unmoving to the floor. A pool of blood gathers around his still form with a swiftness she did not expect. She reaches out tentatively with her mana, lightly probing his aura for any hidden signs of life or magical trickery. When she finds none, she slides off the end of the bed to avoid stepping in the crimson puddle and slinks from the room, pulling the door shut and leaving the dead man inside.
Acting once more without really understanding what she's doing, she pushes her magic out into the air surrounding her body and pulls it back in, wrapping herself in shadow and illusion. It is sloppier than Solas could have done, but then again she had never done anything like this before. She is discernible to others by a slight shift in the air; a ripple like a heat wave shimmering before them. Hopefully they will not be looking for her in such a way. Hopefully she can go home before they ever realize anything is amiss.
This time when she walks down the corridor, she is careful to tread softly to avoid aural detection. She meets no one as she turns corner after corner, walks down hallway after never-ending hallway. She turns another corner, certain she'll never be free of this place, when she finally sees a flash of green ahead of her. An archway leading straight out into the forest is situated at the end of this passage and she can see the gentle movement of wind through the trees.
Reaching for yet another magical ability she has only ever heard of but never used, she finds herself suddenly outside the palace, standing amongst the swaying trees.
Did I just Fade-step? she asks herself as she gathers her bearings and looks around. She pulls the cloak of her magical invisibility tighter around herself and sets off into the jungle, eager to put as much distance between it and herself as possible.
After several hours, when she is certain she is not being followed or watched, she gradually eases the fabric of the Fade from her shoulders, allowing her body to flicker back into view. She pauses by a large oak and sinks to the ground beside it, letting her head rest on the bark. The gesture is simple but at once she feels a pang of homesickness.
No, not homesickness. It is familiarity I miss. Having been blindfolded, she had no way knowing where the Eluvian lay in the palace. Even if she had managed to stumble upon it, it would require extraordinary luck to further stumble upon the mirror that would take her back to Solas. However, she could not deny that being out here in the forest, free of threat and injury, provided her with a certain sense of comfort that could only come from a lifetime of wandering the wilds with her clan. No, she didn't particularly care for the ways of her people. Some of their rituals and…requirements could be seen as downright barbaric; alas, she had always done everything her Keeper had asked of her, even when it meant sacrificing her happiness.
Almost everything. She swallows thickly, memories flashing before her vision like a living dream.
Callused hands on my hips, his magic probes my flesh. I will not disobey. My obeisance in this matter is not up for negotiation. He knows I do not truly want this, not with an old ha'hren such as he; but he has a duty and so do I, and my supple, youthful flesh makes it easier for him to complete the breeding ritual. His breath is hot and heavy at my cheek; the hardness of him presses deep into me and moves within me, unflinching in the fulfillment its duty. Though his hoarse gasping and wanton grunts do nothing to grant him appeal.
It was honor they expected me to feel, honor from the thick seed now puddling in my womb, to bear a child of magic, and though I feel ready to scream, I will not. I will play the part as I am expected to. Finally empty, he pulls away, the parting of our bodies nothing but relief to me, though I know he will need to fill me again before dawn and many times more over the coming weeks. So when his snores have trembled my eardrums for long enough, I slip from beneath his grasp and hide amongst the trees to imbibe enough witherstalk draught to ensure barrenness for many months. I can only pray my Keeper never discovers my duplicity as I throw my lot in with Fen'Harel himself, betrayer to my own people.
She shakes herself, willing the memories to fade once more. Eventually, her Keeper had decided it was an unfit match, unworthy of Elgar'nan's and Mythal's blessings. They had been on their way to another match in another clan, where she would be expected to do it all over again, when she had been captured by the Vints. Part of her almost thought it was divine intervention; perhaps her gods had not abandoned her after all. And initially, after discovering it was Fen'harel's lair she appeared in, she thought perhaps he had drawn her there through time and space alike, kin amongst the betrayed People.
But now, now she knows the answers. They are real, but they are nothing more than pretenders themselves, wielding power they do not deserve against a People they do not care for. Perhaps it was not divine intervention that brought her to the doorstep of the Dread Wolf, but had she appeared under the feet of any of the others, she would surely be dead or enslaved by now. It is not a feeling that sits well with her, that her gods are all fraudulent and her life a maze of thousands of years of falsehoods and half-truths.
Perhaps it didn't affect her as it might affect one of her clanmates. They are all by far more entrenched in their beliefs and cultures than she ever was; to come to this time and place, to learn the things she had learned, she feels certain it would have driven most of them mad with denial. She thinks back to each revelation of history Solas had delivered to her. She had been shocked, of course. Anyone would be shocked to learn everything they knew was a lie. But some part of her deep subconscious isn't really surprised. Some part of her has always known all is not as it seems.
Many years ago, when she was but a child, she sat beneath an oak very much like this one, her head against the child Telhen's shoulder as she looked up at the leafy canopy above their heads. She had whispered her doubts to him about their gods and he had begged her to remain silent about them, fearful of the treachery slipping like ruined silk from her lips. She had learned as a youth to push her skepticism deep within her mind, and there it stayed locked in its own dragon-guarded fortress, never to see the light of day again.
And then Solas had swept in and slain the dragon, its fresh corpse providing enough of a feast to allow those hypocrisies she'd long ago hidden away to grow fat. With each new proclamation of truth, it grew gluttonous, greedy for the knowledge her ignorant people had long since abandoned. And with the scar on her hand and his power singing in her veins, she had a taste, a full banquet for which to feed the ravenous creature in her head.
She can never go back to the way she'd lived. Never again can she sleep beneath the stars, steeling herself against harsh winters and near-constant hunger, knowing that in this time, she would have never had to do such things. She can never again look Deshanna in the eyes, a product of generations of failed breeding. Deshanna is not directly responsible for the loss of knowledge, but she and all of them alike are content with the deceits and defeats passed down from Keeper to Keeper since the Fall.
As her thoughts consume her, she feels herself falling into the sluggish throes of despair, her eyelids dipping low as the Fade pulls her into its abyss. When next she opens her eyes, she is no longer beneath the wizened oak, but instead at the edge of a great swell of water.
"He searches for you, afraid, is she gone? Did she leave me? Am I doomed to wander alone for eternity?"
She turns to face Khole, unfazed by his sudden appearance beside her.
"Hello, friend. It feels an eternity since last we spoke," she offers with a small smile. He looks at her then, his head tilting with curiosity.
"He misses you. He feels tortured, ashamed that your presence keeps him grounded after knowing you so little a time."
"There is nothing to be ashamed of. His soul has acted as a magnet, drawing me through the ages to his side. It can't be a coincidence that my body and mind chose this exact place in time to appear."
"I said as much, but he does not believe me," Khole says sadly, his gaze returning to the horizon.
"You have seen him then?" she asks as she entwines her fingers in his. He squeezes lightly and his chin dips in a nod.
"Yes. He summoned me when he realized you were gone. His panic was such that I could not deny him my presence. It was a hurt I could heal."
"How did you heal it?"
"By finding you. I pulled you in, told him to find us here."
"You pulled me in? To the Fade?"
"Yes. It was not so difficult when your mind was already in a state of chaos. Any extreme emotion would have allowed me to bring you in easily. Anything less would have required more effort."
Her eyes become unfocused as she pulls the weight of his words across her energy, testing their merit. They ring true against her mana, though she never knew a spirit had such power.
"It is not a power we are given freely," Khole says, hearing her before she even speaks. "We must be given that honor by someone in the waking world. Perhaps that is for the better."
She nods in agreement, thinking of the demons of her time. Had they the power to rip a person from the waking world and into their own, they would have long ago grown fat with the souls of Thedas before succumbing to extinction when there was nothing left to feast upon.
"Solas gave you this power?"
Khole glances back to her, his thumb drawing lazy circles against her palm.
"He could not wait for you to sleep and he could not pull you in on his own, so I offered myself. I have already given it back. Frightened, alone, sick with worry. It was a hurt I could heal," he repeats. His eyes fix on something behind her, and as she turns to see what it is, he vanishes from her side.
Solas stands behind her, his chest heaving as unspoken emotion ravages him behind his eyes. She stands slowly and steps over to him, her hands behind her back as she inspects him. His shoulders release their tension and his breath rushes out in a long sigh. He lifts his hand to caress her cheek but stops suddenly, unsure of himself in a way he has never been before. He lets it fall away without touching her and his eyes bore into hers, seeking answers to unasked questions.
"I do not wish to hold you against your will, lethallin," he whispers, his voice laden with raw feeling. Pain flashes across her visage and she reaches for his hand.
"It was not by choice that I left your side, Solas. I was taken; stolen away in the night by a thief sent by Andruil."
One by one the swirling emotions clear from his features until only one remains: anger. His lips snarl and his eyes narrow in his rage. He pulls his hand from her grasp and grips her shoulders tightly, almost painfully.
"What did she do to you? What did she want?" he spits, his anger loud but she understands it is not directed towards her.
"To claim me. To use me against you," she says softly as tears brim in her eyes. His face goes pale at these words, the anger leaving it as suddenly as it had come, only to be replaced by fear.
"She…she tried to brand you?" His fingers loosen their hold on her shoulders and move towards the ground, stilling on her upper arms as he peers down at her.
"Well, she commanded someone to do it, one of her higher acolytes, I think. He…his vallaslin was complex."
"What—how did you escape?"
"I…I don't know. I used magic I didn't know I had. He—the man who was to mark me, he fell to the floor just before he touched the tool to my face. It was as though someone were choking him. I felt energy bubbling up inside me, but they had enchanted bindings on me. I don't know how I could have done it."
His face relaxes, but only minutely as his hands grip ever so slightly tighter on her arms. "Sometimes in times of great duress, we can produce magic beyond anything we have ever known. Did he die? And you just walked out?"
She shakes her head. "No. I…ran away, I hid in a room, a bedroom I think, but it was small. He followed me in and I—I…" She trails off, a flash of red darting through her memory. "I did something to him, with ice. And he…died."
"You are certain?"
"There was…a lot of blood. And I checked him with my magic. He was gone." Her voice breaks on the last word and the tears that had earlier threatened to spill now did so with earnest.
"You have never killed before, have you?" Solas asks, his voice softening as he draws her into an embrace. She shakes her head and buries her face against the warmth of his chest. He strokes the back of her head while she sobs, and when the well of tears finally seems empty, she pulls away, gazing up into his somber eyes.
"I made myself invisible, almost. There was still a shimmer, but you could only see it if you were looking. I don't know how I knew to do it. The knowledge just came to me. And I walked for a long time, trying to find a way out. Then I finally saw an opening into the forest, but it was at the end of a long hallway. I wanted to be out so badly, I just stepped forward and…I was there. I think I Fade-stepped, Solas. I have never done such a thing."
"It is a remarkable accomplishment. Most Elvhen cannot do it. I would theorize that the power of the orb is aiding you, even so far away. You are learning, da'len. Controlling your magic should start to get easier for you."
"Except I still have no idea where I am or how to get home. Or how you even found me!"
Solas shakes his head, his eyes faraway as memories rise to the surface. "I did not find you. I remembered your friend, the spirit of Compassion. Khole, you called him. I asked him to come. At first he would not respond, but when I begged, he was there immediately. I gave him a spell, one that would imbue him with enough magic to pull your mind into the Fade when he encountered you. It is something I as a living being could never do, but he as a spirit could, with a little help. He told me to wait in the Fade, that I would know when you had been found."
"How did you know?"
"You are very…bright. Your energy is like a beacon on the horizon. I followed it and here you were."
"I'm sorry, Solas," she whispers, settling her forehead against his chest again.
"This is not your fault, lethallin. It is mine. I should not have left you so unprotected. Had I been there, they would not have dared approach."
She leans back again, confusion clouding her eyes. "What do you mean, left me? You weren't there?"
He sighs sadly. "No. A problem came up that needed my attention. I left to check in with my agent. When I arrived, there was nothing amiss. In hindsight, I see now that it was all a trap. I…" His voice falls off and he steps away from her, letting his hands come away to rest at his sides. "It would be unwise to continue this…whatever it is we are doing. They will use you to get to me, and I—to lose you would be…"
She reaches for him, touches his arm. His eyes flash to her bare face, filled with sorrow. "Solas, I—" He steps back again.
"It would be unwise, kinder in the long run if we did not engage in such frivolities."
"No. You don't mean that."
"I…no. You are right. But…" He lets out a frustrated sigh and spins on his heel as he begins to pace. "I have only known you a short time, and yet something pulls me to you, surer and stronger than anything I have ever felt in my thousands of years. It frightens me, the intensity with which my very soul calls to you. If the others sense it, if they know what you mean to me, what would they do?"
"Solas…"
"They would torture you. They would kidnap and rape you to hurt me. They would tear you limb from limb and scatter you at my doorstep!" He marches back and forth before her, his angry words punctuating the air between them. She steps forward again.
"Solas—"
"They would see you dead to destroy me. It has not gone unnoticed that I refuse to participate in this civil war of theirs. They would force my hand before I am ready to move! They would—"
"Solas!" she all but shouts as she grabs his arm and grinds him to a halt. Finally, his eyes focus on her again. "Solas, do you think me incapable? Have I not proven I can fend for myself, escape from under their noses? If you continue to teach me to wield this power, what will stop me?"
His eyes soften, tinged with sadness. "Oh ma vhenan… It is so much more than that. These are the same people who murdered Mythal. Wife, mother, companion to us all. Do you truly believe they would not do the same or worse to someone who wields their power without their permission?"
She blinks at him, stunned by his words. She barely heard anything past 'ma vhenan' and it distracts her. "Vhenan?" she whispers. He blinks at her as his hand reaches out to touch her face.
"You must know by now that you have stolen my very heart away," he murmurs, moving his fingers to tangle into her hair. "It goes against everything I have told myself. That isolation is for the best to protect those I have come to care for." He pulls her close to his chest, whispering into her hair. "But I am powerless to resist, to stop the pull of my heart. I have tried to, I am…scared, vhenan." That word again, it sends shivers up her spine. "I do not have the answers anymore."
She looks up him, loses herself in the deep pools of truth and love that have become his eyes. She threads her fingers into his thick braids, longer even than her own hair, and pulls him down to meet her lips. The fire that ignites between them is more powerful and more intense than any of the previous intimacies they have shared. She nearly cries with the emotions that wash over her, and when they finally break away, she feels as though the very air has been stolen from her lungs.
"Ar lath ma," he whispers, his forehead resting against hers as his fingers continue to twist through her ebony strands. A tingle like lightning trembles through her body. Everything in her upbringing shouts to end this madness; he is right, they have only known each other a very short while, days able to be measured by only the fingers on their hands. And yet her heart sings in harmony with his, resonating in her very soul. Her soul…
Nas'falon, she thinks to herself with sudden clarity. The Dalish believe there is only one out there for each person, and while she is certainly keen to shuck aside the majority of the traditions and stories she'd grown up with in favor of the history she is now living in, this one ideal sticks to her like moss on a tree.
"What do the Elvhen of this time believe?" she asks Solas quietly and he slants his head questioningly.
"In regards to what?"
"Nas'falon. Do you believe it?"
He considers her question for a moment before responding. "It is true that many Elvhen will partake in multiple partners through their long lives, as friends, romantic interests, lovers. But yes, the idea of soulmates is certainly something that shows to be true to us. Mythal and Elgar'nan are one such pair that lends truth to the notion. To see them together, you would understand what I mean. Andruil and Ghilan'nain, Sylaise and June. Proof litters our history."
"What about Falon'din and Dirthamen?"
Solas chuckles. "While certainly their souls are inseparable, they would more be considered nas'taron rather than nas'falon. While nas'falon is not necessarily demanding of romance and intimacy, in this case, they have identical spirits."
"I never knew that," she says, smiling up at him. "Do you think that we…"
"Are nas'falon?" She nods as her cheeks flush red, but he grins and takes her hand. "Yes. I think I do."
"And…" she begins uncertainly, but she is comforted by the gentle squeeze of his hand. "Did you partake in multiple partners through the years?"
He pulls back, his hand stilling in hers. He had not expected this question. "I have been with…a few," he admits. "None that lasted longer than a century, none that held me as closely as you do."
Her eyebrow smirks up. "A century?" It is his turn to flush and he shuffles slightly before her.
"Yes, well, you must understand that to us, a century is hardly the blink of an eye."
She cannot stop the sudden hurt that flashes across her face or the feeling of her heart being catapulted against a stone wall. "Then why indulge in this? Even if we are…nas'falon…why bother when my life will be over in a minute?" His face falls as he realizes his mistake.
"Vhenan," he implores, bringing both her hands up against his chest where he holds them there. "I have lived thousands of years without ever knowing the touch of nas'falon. I have envied the others at a distance, certain that I would never be allowed the same honor. I have known you but a few days and yet all of it has been worth it. All the loneliness, the jealousy and failed relationships, the centuries of isolation. For you, I would do it again. I would live an eternity of it in exchange for but a second of your presence."
Her heart swells as the emotions threatens to rip from her body. The air between them is palpable with the truth of his words.
"Ar lath ma, Fen'Harel," she whispers against his chest, some distant part of her reveling in the blasphemy her people would surely shun her for.
After a few moments, Solas pulls away. "I can feel the pull of wakefulness on the horizon. Before it happens, I must tell you how to come to me." Her brows furrow but she says nothing. "Do you remember how you Fade-stepped?" When she nods, he continues. "You will need to do the same thing. But this time, you must imagine my face. Imagine me standing in the distance, allow the desire to be at my side to grow within you until you can think of nothing else but the need to be beside me. And then, when it seems there is nothing left in your mind but this urge, you must step forward and embrace the Fade. Can you do that for me, vhenan?"
She hesitates for a moment but finally nods. "I will try."
Solas inclines his head at a point over her shoulder and begins to fade from her view. Hands touch down on her shoulders and an ethereal voice whispers in her ear.
"I will send you back now."
Khole gives her shoulders a tight squeeze and she feels something behind her navel lurch forward. She lands on her back and when she sits up, she is surrounded once more by the thick green of the forest, the oaks thick canopy whispering above her head with the wind. She scrambles to her feet, her heart pounding in her throat.
She pulls his face to her mind, though she needn't try very hard; he consumes her thoughts already. Her heart fills with the rawvemotion of him, the scent of him surrounding her, the touch of his hands on her body enveloping her soul. Finally, she steps forward, allowing the Fade to wrap around her body like a thick woolen blanket.
She gasps when his fingers close around her wrists and suddenly she is there beside him. He stands in the middle of the familiar common room, his eyes raking over her face and he pulls her closer, as though he is afraid she will be ripped away again at any second. An audible sigh escapes from his chest.
"I did it," she murmurs against the soft robe he wears. His chest rumbles with a chuckle.
"You certainly did, vhenan, you certainly did." There is that word again. She will never tire of hearing it, she knows. "And now," he says, pulling himself back enough to look her in the eyes, "we must prepare for the backlash. Andruil will not be pleased that you have managed to evade her and she may attempt to track you down. I have no intention of letting that happen, and so we must head her off as quickly as we can. I have some ideas."
He releases his hold on her and turns away, pacing much the same way he had in the Fade. He turns back to face her after a moment, his eyes sharp and dangerous.
"Tell me," she breathes and his lips curl into a wicked grin. She returns the expression with a smirk of her own and steps toward him, her energy brimming and mingling freely with his.
The bitch would be sorry for taking her.
Notes:
Nas'falon - Soul mate
Nas'taron - Twin soul
I am using a combination of several dictionaries and lexicons to create my rendition of the Elvhen language.
Thanks to everyone keeping up with this! I have so much in store I can't wait to share it all. It's definitely something you want to keep in your subscriptions! And as always, I love to hear your thoughts and comments! ;)