Commander Cullen stared at the report in front of him. 'I regret to inform you...' Chambreterre wrote.

She regretted. Regretted! He slammed a fist over the table. How could it happen? Inquisitor trusted him after he had solved the problem with bandits attacking her clan. What could possibly go wrong? Red lyrium, of course. He grimaced. This war was not a battle of arms alone. The enemy was cruel, unpredictable, and dishonest.

Lavellan was away in Exalted Plains. But when she returned, she would have to see this report. He could not even imagine her reaction. He would save her reputation, the least he could do for her. He would tell her the news in private, giving her the freedom to express her feelings. He would be there for her. He had failed, but he had to stand strong.

Solas was restless. He spent much time studying lately, and the evenings were the worst. His head was heavy with a dull ache, as he went out to the little balcony, facing the ramparts to get some fresh air.

His scholarly devotion was not his own choice, however. Since Halamshiral, Inquisitor didn't feel inclined to invite him to her scoutings. He thought it was childish of her, but obviously he had no say in it. Well, he had no say at all, as she ignored him completely. The dismay of learning her investigating elven ruins in the Plains without him he was not even able to word out.

Solas sighed, leaning on the cold stone railing. Some light flickering in the dark below draw his attention. A small figure with a candle was crossing the courtyard. It was Inquisitor, he realized. She had returned, that he knew, but she didn't even greet him. What was she doing out there in the night?

It was getting darker, but he still could see her heading to the stairs and climbing up to the ramparts. Then she turned left and entered Cullen's office. Why would she visit Commander so late, and alone?

It was silly to let the jealousy spread in him. It had to be Inquisition business. She had never mentioned Cullen in the conversation before, when they were on good terms. Still, it had been a lifetime ago, and he wasn't sure he knew her anymore. He refused her comfort, he refused her support, both of which could be easily provided by Cullen. Solas gritted his teeth. What wouldn't he give to be that honest and open!

It was for the best, really. Or so he tried to convince himself. She deserved better than half-truths, stolen glances, looming ends. She did deserve better, but why was he ready enough to sacrifice her future for his present? He was not accustomed to this 'happy with another' concept. He couldn't let go.

She was inside long enough now. Solas could not help wondering what she was doing there. Was she complaining, did she tell him about Halamshiral? That was three weeks ago, his inner voice reminded him, she had other things to discuss than you. Of course, she was Inquisitor; she had the world spinning around her.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and Ellana ran out, and then stopped abruptly, looking down the walls. Cullen followed her closely, and urged her into his embrace gently. She buried her face in his chest, being shorter than him, and he caressed her back, kissing the top of her head lightly. They stood like that for a minute, covered in moonlight, but then Cullen took her hand and invited her back inside, closing the door quietly behind them.

The scene was disgustingly sweet. Commander was indeed so good at comforting. Solas closed his eyes, pressing his back into the castle wall. 'Please, come out of there, don't stay,' he prayed silently. But he waited, and waited, until the night grew completely black, and she did not come out.

He was cold, his back ached, and his soul was devastated. He should not be so broken, he did not lose her, he had simply never had her, Solas kept telling himself, as he got back into his room, and forced himself into sleep, curled on the couch. He had let himself think he had her, and that was a foolish mistake. A dream. Yes, only a dream, since he had touched her only in the Fade.

A dream, he repeated. If he went to dream again, and he could happily forget the truth. But when he closed his eyes and fell asleep, all that he could see was her pained face, all that he could hear was her heartbroken cry. Solas woke up in a cold sweat to the calming darkness of the midnight. Why was the Fade playing tricks on his mind? The images he saw, they couldn't be true - Lavellan crying her heart out, Lavellan dead, Lavellan standing alone on the bloody battlefield. No, she was safe, she was probably comfortably tucked into Commander's embrace, Solas reminded himself bitterly.

He was torturing himself, and the Fade responded alike, he decided. He should not think about her, he should seek out for Wisdom. The spirit had always helped him to calm down, to see the true reasons, to see the right path. Solas drifted away into sleep again, and tried to find his friend.

But the fate was cruel to him that night. No matter where he looked, he could not see it. He searched the usual places of their meetings; he called out in every language he could remember. Wisdom was gone. Was he going mad? The phantoms of Lavellan's anguished face still haunted him, as he thrashed in his bed, half asleep, half awake.

Finally, he heard Wisdom. And again, it was a tortured cry; the spirit asked for help, it pleaded him to come. Opening his eyes, Solas sit upright. His breathing was worked up, and he felt more tired than before he went to bed. The Plains. Wisdom was there. He needed to ask Lavellan to take him there. If she refused, he would go alone.

He tried to calm down, and got up. It was already morning, and the sounds of people having breakfast in the Main Hall could be heard. Solas went out and asked for some tea, the strongest they could brew, he specified.

He sat at his desk, alone, with the drink as bitter, as his soul. Just when he was thinking about how he would ask Inquisitor for help, she appeared in the room in person. She glanced around, as if she hoped he would not be present, and tried to step quietly on her toes. When she finally noticed him, she sighed desperately, and muttered a greeting.

Solas examined her. Ellana looked awful – eyes red and swollen, dark circles beneath them. She had not slept, but he refused to let himself wonder what impeded her. That was the area his mind was not ready to venture into.

"Good day." He said dryly, as he rose to step nearer to her. "I may need a favor from you." He moved straight to the subject.

She looked as if she did not understand him fully. Her eyes, tired and sleepy, stared past him.

"Of course, anything." She answered and no emotion was present in her flat voice.

"One of my oldest friends has been captured, forced into slavery. I heard the cry for help as I slept." Solas explained, trying to get at least some reaction from her. She was strange. He did not like it. He even preferred her being angry.

She nodded, but still seemed unmoved by his story.

"Do you know where he… she is…?" She asked wearily.

"It. My friend is a spirit of wisdom." Solas replied. He didn't know why he told her all that. He realized he expected some compassion from her, but found none. So that was how she felt at Halamshiral. What a broken, cold-hearted creature he was, managing to cut her sympathy short. Cole was wrong, he did quench her fire.

"I know the place it is being held in." He said at last, lowering his gaze, unable to meet her empty, meaningless eyes.

"Let's go then." She answered simply, and left the room.

Wisdom died. The pain burned in every inch of Solas' body, as he turned to those cruel, ignorant murderers, ready to disintegrate them with his magic. A hand on his shoulder gave him an unexpected support, pulling him from his rage, pulling him back to the reality.

"Solas…" He heard. He turned to Lavellan, the raw emotion, the fear, the trembling, the plea coloring her intonation. He was not prepared to see those big green eyes alive with mercy and compassion, a sight he yearned for in the morning. She broke his determination and he faltered in his justice.

"Never again." He growled at the mages, and turned his back to them, hoping they would flee sooner than he reconsidered.

Why? Why did she feel for them, and not for him, when he had lost his truest friend? He knew he did not deserve her sympathy, but he still could not accept it.

"I need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold." He said in a pained voice. He was alone, he had to grieve alone.

They returned to the Inquisition camp in silence. More death, Ellana thought grimly. She could not sit idly, she could not rest, the grief and self-blame draining all her strength. Perhaps, Solas was right about having a time alone. Perhaps, she must do the same. Perhaps, she had to mourn properly, and the spirits of her family would find their rest and leave her in peace.

Ellana headed to the old elven cemetery. It seemed appropriate, to mourn among the graves, though her family would never get one. She walked slowly, but did not stop even for a moment. Emptiness was all that was left in her heart.

She did not expect any company, but there he was, kneeling in the grass, head bowed deeply. His staff was carelessly thrown aside, as his hands rested on his knees. He had a friendly soul to mourn for as well. Ellana was surprised as the touch of sympathy warmed her heart a little. She hadn't realized she was still able to feel that.

So she came up to Solas, him never hearing her light footsteps. Lavellan lowered herself to her knees beside him.

"Atisha'hamin inalas vhen'elgaren." She offered the Dalish respectful address to the dead. "This is a good place, the spirits are calm now." She remembered how they were here last time, without Solas, when she still was mad at him. How unimportant it seemed at the moment.

Solas acknowledged her presence by a slight ease in his posture, but remained silent. She understood she was not unwelcome.

"Are you angry with me? For stopping you in your rage?" Ellana asked quietly.

Solas shook his head. "No. They are nothing." His voice was cold and stiff.

"They are not 'nothing'. They are people." Ellana protested, though she was in no mood to argue. "And I really could not bear any more deaths." She sighed, as if she was struggling for air. "I do not know if I can bear any more at all. It seems the only death I'm willing to accept is my own." And her tone was gravely serious.

Solas looked at her, the anxiety not hidden in his eyes. "Why do you say that?"

He did not know, of course.

Ellana faced him, even more pale than usual. Her eyes were dry, unable to cry, and it frightened him.

"My family... they are... dead. Dead. Murdered. Slaughtered. Gone. Gone. Gone!" The last words she cried out, turning her face to the sky, her fists clasping the grass, tearing it from the ground, as she continued to wail in sorrow, loud and desperate as a wounded animal.

Cold and sickening feeling filled Solas, as he realized what she had just said. He could not bear this image of her being tortured by grief. And such yelling in the middle of that unfriendly place really would not do. So he grabbed her without a second thought, bending her neck to bury her face in his fur collar. She was shaking violently, but he held her strongly, pressing her into him as tightly as he could. Her hands found their way to his chest, tugging fiercely at the cloth of his tunic, at the jaw pendant. Solas felt the cord of his amulet digging into his neck as she clung to it until it tore in one second, leaving an unexpectedly empty feeling in its usual place.

That sobered her. Slowly she moved up to end their embrace, not matter how much she wanted to stay, as the smell of wolf pelt and of male elf gave her comfort, reminding of home she no longer had. Solas let her go immediately, sliding his hands down her sides to hold her hands gently. Ellana was still gripping the wolf bone with her both hands. She looked up at him, asking his forgiveness. But he didn't seem to be concerned with the amulet.

Her face was red and wet, and distorted with pain. But the crisis was over, and her expression was once again one of determination and acceptance.

"I know I still have my duties. And I will continue my path; I just don't know where to begin." Ellana admitted wearily.

She was absolutely right, Solas thought. He rubbed her forefingers with his thumbs. His eyes were like deep wells of sorrow, and it seemed that by looking at her he tried to take her sorrows from her, because his own were so much more endless and adding some more would change nothing.

A small smile appeared on Ellana's lips as she remembered something.

"Do you know what Cullen told me? 'You have to carry on, Inquisitor, and I will carry you, if needed.'" She cited the words of the honorable Commander, who had blamed himself for the failure.

That was just what Solas expected from the man. He frowned, hearing the words, the truth of Commander acting better and faster to comfort Ellana stinging like a slap.

"It will not be needed." He replied stubbornly, tightening his grip on her hands.

"Why?" Ellana stared at him quizzically.

Solas' face softened. He watched their intertwined fingers, and then returned his eyes to her face, her big questioning eyes.

"Because it is my place. Ma lathan." He replied in a quiet, caring, but also very confident tone.

The word was elven, but unknown to her. It was alike 'Arlathan' or 'Ellathan', the name of Mythal in a prayer. It meant something very dear, very personal. The way he had pronounced it filled her heart with a feeble new hope for future.

"What does it mean?" She asked in a hopeful whisper.

Solas' lips curled up slightly, as he answered her with an amused glint in his eyes.

"It means I have not forgotten the kiss."

The kiss. As if it could be forgotten. She had relished it in her memory, returning to that moment each night before falling asleep. Maybe he did it too, Ellana mused.

Her gaze roamed his face to see if he was just teasing, but the openness in his features stroke her down helpless. She turned her face upwards, offering him the view and, not even realizing it, herself.

Solas was confused. He began it this time, but could he just lean forward and taste her for real? He had refused her at Halamshiral, and it turned out bad and wrong. It would be kinder in the long run, he kept telling himself. But did she, did they have it, that longer run? She was mortal, and he was not invincible either. He had already nearly ruined her trying to protect her. She needed him desperately though, and right then.

As if to confirm his thoughts Ellana tugged on his hands, urging him to close the distance between them.

Solas abandoned his doubts and lowered his head placing his lips on hers, kissing her gently, but passionately, with the immense care in each touch. Ellana dropped the jaw pendant to the ground, as she brought her hands up to hold onto his upper arms. It was so much more intense than in the Fade, it was real. Solas closed his eyes sinking into her embrace as his tongue entered her mouth, bringing her over the edge with the new sensations.

Unexpectedly, he withdrew, ending the kiss. The displeased and confused frown appeared on his face.

"Did you take lyrium?" He demanded in a disapproving tone.

"Yes. Cullen gave it to me; it helped me to have the dreamless sleep." Ellana explained somewhat unwillingly, upset that he broke their intimacy.

His frown deepened. "You should have told me. I can offer better solutions."

"Well, I've told you now." Ellana replied defensively, crossing her arms.

Solas stood up gracefully and reached out for her with a hand, getting a good grip on his staff with the other one.

"Come, I will help you to rest while travelling in the Fade. There are better places for that than the cemetery."

Ellana grabbed his hand and followed him, after taking his pendant from the ground, as he seemed to have forgotten about it completely.

AN: I am deeply grateful to all of you who read my work.

Some translations, as usual:

Atisha'hamin inalas vhen'elgaren - rest calmly in earth, spirits of the people

Lathan - place (object) of love (as for Ellathan for Mythal, it is used in a prayer I invented myself in my other story).