Solas heard the sound of the door opening, and lifted his eyes from his book. Inquisitor entered the room from the bridge that connected the castle with the ramparts.

"Hello, Solas," she greeted him cheerfully, still walking further into the room. "Start packing. We're leaving for Hinterlands, the day after tomorrow." Ellana stopped near his table, and draw a breath. "Cassandra, Bull, you, and me."

"Inquisitor." Solas slammed his book shut and got up to face her. She saw a disapproving frown coming upon his face. "Hinterlands? Are you sure that is wise? Isn't there a Grey Warden waiting for you somewhere in Crestwood?" He waved his right hand in the indefinite direction.

Inquisitor shrugged her shoulders. "Let him wait. Those people in Hinterlands are under our protection now, and there is still much to be done." She began to walk away, but Solas started to talk again and she stopped.

"I can see how it is enjoyable for you to see their grateful faces and hear their infinite blessings, but cold and hunger will become the least of those people problems if you do not stop Corypheus." Solas declared, narrowing his eyes in displeasure. She barely recognized his voice, so cold and accusing it became. How humiliating it was to hear him scolding her like that.

"Don't treat me like an unreasonable child! I surely know that!" Lavellan snapped at him, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "And I'm going to stop him. We do not even know if these Grey Wardens have to do something with Corypheus." She reasoned, slowly calming down, but still obviously irritated.

Solas shook his head, his lips turning down in a grimace as he listened to her. He crossed his arms and eyed her sternly. "Grey Wardens are foolish children playing with fire!" His voice grew stronger, his anger at her blindness now evident. "For all we know, Corypheus may be handing them oiled cloth at this very moment!" The mage stretched his left arm to point fiercely somewhere in Blackwall's direction.

Inquisitor remained silent as if she waited for him to calm down. She underestimated the situation, as it soon turned out.

"One may think you're hiding from your foe, Inquisitor, soothing your fears with the prayers of mindless followers." Solas stated bitterly, his anger having finally dissipated from his eyes, but his annoyance was still present.

Ellana felt the throbbing ache growing in her heart when she heard such cold-hearted accusations from a man she considered a friend. He dared to call her a coward, after all she had suffered! She felt tears forming in her eyes against her will. Hurt and pain clouding her vision and her thoughts, Ellana cried at him, as her finger almost poked him into his chest:

"Oh, excuse me for not desiring to meet the creature who has sworn to kill me! Easy for you to say! It is not you who has been branded with that damned Anchor! It is not you whom Corypheus can torture with the flick of his fingers! You… you dare… you do not understand…" She wiped her cheeks and nose with the back of her hand, struggling to collect herself. Ellana got a little satisfaction seeing his disoriented expression. She began moving forward, causing him to step back, until he had to clutch the edge of his table with his left hand to steady himself. "You," she drawled with hate, "why would you care? Your beloved Arlathan is long dead; what is this world, twisted, forgetting, full of foolish and stubborn 'children', what is it to you?" Lavellan spat the words at him. Her anger was wiping out her hurt, and thus, was more than welcome to her.

Solas did not move, but the rage she'd never seen before twisted his features. She saw his left hand whiten as it clenched hard around the table's edge. His right hand was now also balled into a fist, small flames dancing at the tips of his fingers. All her senses screamed to her to run for her life, as he watched her, his eyes merely slits, pure hatred along with the deep hurt emanating from them. But she stood still before him, all sprung up, hardened by her own enragement, daring him to strike her. She waited for him to strike her; she wanted him to strike her.

But he did not.

Solas closed his eyes, lowering his head. His arms relaxed, as he sank down to sit on the edge of the table. When he looked up at her again, there was the usual sadness in his deep blue eyes.

"Despite my grudging, I do care for this world," he sighed. "It seems, however, that you do not." He ended quietly, and got up only to sit again in his chair, resting his head against its high back.

Ellana felt disappointed by his sudden retreat. It looked like she'd won the argument, but why did it feel so hollow and shameful? Nevertheless, she would not lose her face.

"So, you're not going to Hinterlands?" She stated, not asked.

"No."

"Fine. I'll go ask Dorian, then." Ellana replied willfully, and headed out to climb the stairs.

She strained her ears to hear his reply, however quiet it might be, but heard none.

That argument had happened the previous night. Next morning came, but the frustration remained. So long Solas had been thinking about that talk, and every time his thoughts led him to conclusion that he had been wrong. He handled the situation badly, if he had handled it at all. He'd let his wish that she finish her quest, finish his quest as soon as possible, get the better of him. Of course, she was afraid. He needed to lead her, not to push her ahead, or he might as well push her over her limits.

The matter still remained urgent. Solas saw no other way of dealing with it, than speaking to the Inquisitor again. He rarely sought her out before, but now he had to explain the importance of the task lying before her.

The elf opened his door and entered the Main Hall that was full of morning hasty movements. Varric, on the contrary, was sitting before his fireplace, relaxed and thoughtful. He greeted Solas with a nod.

"Have you seen the Inquisitor, Master Tethras?" Solas asked, straightforward.

Varric grinned. "It's about your yesterday's yelling, isn't it, Chuckles?"

"How do you..." Solas dropped the question without finishing. Of course Varric had heard everything. "Do you know where she is?" He repeated, more impatiently this time.

"I can't be sure, but I saw Ruffles going into her quarters with some papers, and then going out without them. You get the picture." Varric replied and turned his head to gaze into the fire again.

"My thanks." Solas nodded curtly, and headed in the mentioned direction.

He climbed the stairs effortlessly, his long and lean legs moving quickly and quietly. The door was not closed, so he entered the room without knocking. One more staircase and he saw Inquisitor sitting at her desk, presumably occupied with the documents Varric had mentioned. Her posture was calm and relaxed, he noted, feeling his heart ease a bit.

"Good morning, Inquisitor, do you have a moment?" He began, his tone polite but his voice strong.

She got up, somewhat hurriedly, casting a surprised glance at him. Her face wore the signs of weariness, her eyes clouded with a mix of emotions.

"Oh, it's you, Solas!" Ellana said a bit more cheerfully than would be believable. Solas noticed she was trying not to look disturbed, not to reveal her distress. Well, at least she wasn't angry at him, or did not wish to show it, which was enough for now. But nevertheless, he felt he had interrupted something.

"If it is the wrong moment, I can come later." He backed off at once. No more pressure, he told himself.

Ellana protested momentarily, her voice sounding unnaturally delighted again: "No, no, it is alright, please take a sit," she welcomed him to the couch near the entrance with a gesture.

Solas sat as he was invited, his back still straight, his hands on his knees, his face absolutely unreadable. He waited for her to ask him what he wanted.

"I've just received the answer from my brother!" Inquisitor scooped the piece of paper from her desk, and clutched it in front of her, defensively. She came forward to sit on the same couch and continued. "I can't thank you enough for help, Solas." She sounded more relaxed than before, but some uneasiness still lingered in her features.

Solas was not content with her swaying from his intended talk, but he decided to be patient. He could not allow her locking herself from him, so he had to indulge her. Furthermore, she looked pained and tired, and she had probably had the same sleepless troubled night as he.

"You're welcome, Inquisitor." He let his answer be as short as it could be.

"Wait, I'll read you some parts, so you can see how much you helped." Ellana continued, putting the paper before her eyes. Solas wondered if he imagined her desire to cover herself from his gaze. He saw her rushing herself, urging herself to appear vigorous, strong, and happy, pouring all the strength left in her into that image. Was she trying to convince him, or herself?

Meanwhile, Ellana began reading:

"You surprised us all, lethallan, with your writing. When did your elven become so good? I had to ask the Keeper to translate me some parts! Of course, I remember you were the smartest and the most curious child of the clan, but you keep mastering your knowledge even among the shemlen. "

Reading seemed to let her become calmer, as she hid her face behind the paper and her emotions behind another one's words. Solas decided to keep silence, hoping she would drop the subject soon.

"See? Oh, and another one!" Ellana exclaimed, still clinging to the letter as if it was a shield. "The Keeper also read it to mother, and she seemed to understand you. She even muttered something in reply, but I didn't get much more than 'ma'da'len'. You were the only one who could understand her. She doesn't talk much since... you've... left..." Last words came out with pauses, interrupted with frantic air intakes. Ellana finally lowered the paper, holding it in her right hand. She closed her eyes tightly, biting on her knuckles in despair, as the silent sobs began shaking her body, single tears running over her cheeks.

Solas hated how helpless he found himself. He understood that she was not going to read those parts to him, but in her unstable emotional state she had chased herself into it. Solas could not deny being guilty, at least partially, of leading her into that emotional breakdown. Yesterday, he had been too harsh, too demanding, too thick-skinned.

Sadly, he would not allow himself comforting her, and for her sake, mostly. He had to keep his distance. He could not hug her, could not kiss her, and could not wipe her tears away.

"Lethallan." Solas said, the immense kindness of his voice reaching out for her. This much he could give her. He could listen. "Tell me about your mother."

Slowly, hesitantly Ellana lowered her hand, angry marks showing in the places where she'd bitten herself. She cast a cautious look at the other elf, her eyes still red, but also big and bright. She was struck by the intensity of his regard, by the deep compassion in it. She knew she needed to talk about the matter; she'd needed that since she left her clan. Lowering her head to look at the letter on her lap, Ellana sighed. Then she started her story, looking far away into the horizon, through the balcony door.

"Mother... she is from clan Aranel, one of those closed northern clans. They are very isolated, hostile even, and they speak only elven. They rarely bond with outsiders. My parents met at Arlathvhen. My mother is said to be very beautiful then, with her braids white as Crystal Grace, and her eyes blue as the purest ice." A small smile touched her lips, despite everything, with the memory of her mother.

"They fell in love from the first sight, like in the stories of old; even the language barrier did nothing to stop their passion. They had two children, my brother and me, but then, they grew apart, I don't know why, because I was a child. I only remember father being always displeased when I spoke elven to him. They talked less and less with each other, and my brother was soon taken away to train as a hunter. I could speak both languages, so I was the only one who my mother could talk to. We got very attached to each other, but father was implacable: I was to become a hunter apprentice too. Mother cried, yelled, but he didn't understand and didn't listen. He told me that I would not want to end like mother; I needed to socialize, to become a full member of our clan. Father wanted the best for me, as did mother." Ellana paused, collecting herself, as the memories of her difficult youth flooded over her.

"At the age of eleven I left mother. I still visited her, talked to her, but the visits grew shorter, and I forgot much of elven. I still loved her then, and I still do, but with time I could hardly understand her. My brother never spent much time with her, and when I left for the Conclave... I left my mother alone."

Inquisitor felt herself on the edge of crying again. She got up and walked to stand on the balcony, not far, but far enough to hide her fresh tears. After a moment or two she added quietly: "You must think me childish to worry about my parents' relationship when the world is coming to an end."

"No." Solas replied just as quietly. She heard him get up, and felt him walking towards her as his voice grew closer: "The mistakes of youth are as old and sorrowful as the world itself." The mistakes her parents made. The mistakes he made. The mistakes she was yet to make.

As she finally struggled to stop her crying, she turned back to face Solas, wishing to thank him for his attention. It turned out he stood closer to her than she'd thought, and she found herself bumping into him. Inquisitor tried to steady herself, stopping her circular movement by putting her both palms on his chest.

All at once, her eyes darted up to look at his face, both eager and afraid to see his reaction. For half a second two greatly surprised pair of eyes watched each other. The world stopped, the breathing stopped. When Solas finally gasped for some air, she'd already withdrawn her hands, backing away, and turning her back to him once more, this time hiding her flushed cheeks.

"Seranna-ma." Ellana muttered under her breath. She had to concentrate, there were important things she needed to tell him.

Solas did not dare moving forward to her, not again. He saw her shoulders going up, as she crossed her arms in front of her.

"I…thank you. And… yesterday, you were right. Tomorrow we set out for Crestwood." Inquisitor stated quietly, calmly, but he still could feel she was bracing herself to say that.

Just like that, he thought. He'd spent the whole night, looking for the words that could convince her, and she'd just agreed with him willingly. How many more times was she going to surprise him?

"I was right, but I've wronged you. I apologize." He replied in the same quiet manner.

Ellana contracted her arms, cold from the morning mountain air or from the fearful anticipation of that trip. She looked so small, so fragile when compared to the mighty Frostback Mountains.

"Lethallan." Solas let his caring words wrap around her soul once more. "Why did you lie to me?"

Ellana finally turned to look at him, resting her hands on the railing, leaning on it.

"Lie?" She asked, arching an eyebrow, her sincere amazement evident.

"You've told me you were not eager to learn as a child," Solas elaborated, waving his right hand at her. "Your brother tells otherwise." He pointed back to the couch, where the letter lay, forgotten.

Slowly getting his meaning, Ellana looked down, and answered hesitantly, shame burning on her cheeks.

"I… did want to learn. But I'm not a mage, and I will never be a Keeper, so that knowledge… was not for me." She explained, and the words were not coming easy out of her.

Solas frowned disapprovingly. "How can they deny the knowledge to one who seeks it?" He wondered in an indignant protest.

Inquisitor sighed ruefully. "That's exactly the reaction I was trying to avoid." She valued Solas' wisdom and treasured his advice, but his opinion on her people, the Dalish, was simply causing her much pain.

Solas shook his head. "You should not take this upon yourself. You are not to blame." He watched her, content to see that she raised her eyes back at him. "Don't you agree with me?" Solas asked kindly.

Ellana seemed to be torn between his reasoning and things she'd known since childhood.

"Our life is not easy. If I'm better as a hunter, if it gives more food and furs to my clan, my family, why should I protest? To survive, we all need to do what we are best suited for." It was not marvelous, but it was truth, Ellana considered.

Solas' distaste was written all over his face. "Now you sound like Qunari." He almost hissed at her.

"And you don't like it, I know." She replied, suddenly overwhelmed by her weariness. She traveled enough with Solas and Iron Bull in her company to hear those arguments for a hundred times.

"Let me put it this way. If I wanted to learn how to write, but willingly chose to train as a hunter, because more than anything I wished to help my family, my people, as much as I could, would you call it a 'free will'?" Ellana reasoned passionately. Her people might have been wrong a lot, but she still loved them.

To her astonishment, Solas smiled, obviously moved by her speech.

"I would call it a 'noble heart'." He admired her bravery, her devotion.

Inquisitor beamed at his praise.

"Can a liar have a noble heart, Solas?" She teased him, reminding him of his earlier accusations.

That question. Solas felt uneasy, disturbed, for she could not imagine how many times he had asked himself that. Had wondered if there were justifications for lies.

"I truly hope so." He whispered, unable to look into her eyes, so many regrets filling his mind.

Ellana stared at him in bewilderment. She saw his features sharpen, and his voice was so sad, so old, so hopeless. Did she offend him? He was so kind to her, and she wished to reciprocate.

"I apologize for not telling you the truth." She hurried to confess, hoping it would sooth his mysterious pain somehow. "I could not imagine it was so important to you."

Solas shook his head again. Why was she ever so quick to accept the blame?

"How could you?" He admitted, still sounding sad. But the warmth was returning to his eyes.

"Yes, how could I? I barely know you!" Ellana exclaimed, grasping at a straw to change the subject to something more cheerful. "I would like to know more about you, Solas." She added a bit shyly.

Solas stared at her, taken aback one more time. So, his attraction was not one-sided. That was, well, interesting, if not more.

"You continue to surprise me. All right, let's talk… But not now, now you must rest, Inquisitor." He replied lightly. She did look tired.

"It is morning! And I'm to meet my War Council in half an hour!" She protested.

"You had not slept at night. Meet your advisors, but then you need to sleep." Solas insisted. She'd agreed to go to Crestwood, she would surely see that he was right once again.

"I'm not going to sleep during the daytime, I'm-"

"Do not argue." The older elf enounced almost menacingly, although his playful grin gave him away. His gaze dominated her, his darkened eyes were mesmerizing.

Ellana felt the heat rising up on her face. She found his low voice, his confident intonation strangely attractive. But she was not going to give up easily.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, and cocked her head, so the tip of her left ear came out of her thick mop of blonde hair, pink and delicious in the morning sun. She was so pretty, and she knew it.

"Or what?" She purred, defiant, daring, teasing.

"Or else." Solas growled, the long forgotten feeling of a wolf waking inside him nearly tripping him over.

'Or else I will lay you down myself, and ensure you're staying in bed by pinning you to it with my own weight.' The images rushed through his mind, the wave of heat rolling over his body, shuddering him, and knocking some sense into his head at last.

He was pleased to see that Ellana was also flustered, her lips torn apart by a surprised intake of air.

She blinked at him, and finally mastered an answer: "Ma nuvenin."

Then she gathered herself, and began walking forward to leave the balcony, heading for her council.

When she brushed past him, she added in a barely audible whisper: "Ma tel'harel nan'dirthen dar'din."

Such audacity. Solas could not help staring at her back while she was walking away.

AN: Translation:

Ma tel'harel nan'dirthen dar'din – Do not trick/frighten (both meanings are good) me with empty (dar'din – that do not exist) threats (nan'dirthen – talk of vengeance).

Next chapter – the Fade kiss.