Chapter 3: Thoughts on Memories and Futures

The wound on Solas' arm was much worse than he had originally suspected, and Solas was the only one on the premises capable of using advanced healing magic. Since two hands were necessary, Dorian left him with Leliana, as she was well-versed in battlefield triage.

"This is by far the worst injury I have ever seen Da'Fen inflict. He must have been very determined," said a surprised Leliana. "Did he also punch you," she gasped upon seeing the sizable bruise on his cheek and the cut on his mouth.

Solas answered rather unceremoniously, "My face is an unrelated incident. As for the bite, I really do not blame him. He thought I was attacking his mother and was quite justified in his actions." If only his son knew the half of it, he thought despondently. He would have done much worse.

Leliana began stitching his arm as she commented, "He doesn't know how to accept his mother's death and has been acting out. Cassandra indulges him because he needs to get through the next few days without his emotions spiking out of control." She paused pensively for a moment and then added, "The issue will eventually come to a head, and your son will have to deal with his feelings and accept what has happened in order to move on."

Solas was still struggling to accept what had happened and was nowhere near being able to move on himself. Asking a four year old to struggle similarly seemed excessively cruel. It was easier for Da'Fen to pretend that his mother would wake up and that everything would return to as it had been. At least his son was still able to smile, unlike his father, who had buried himself at the bottom of a hole of guilt and despair so deep that he had no idea how to reach the surface. "Perhaps he is better off for the time being," said Solas with a sigh.

Leliana caught a glimpse of Solas' barren, hopeless expression as he slouched his shoulders and shifted his attention towards the ground. Everything about his attitude and body language made him seem as if he was a ghost of his former self. Maybe Elessa had been correct about everything, Leliana smiled. Maybe Solas really had been collapsing under the weight of his own guilt and decisions for years, as had been suggested.

Before her death, Elessa informed her closest companions of Solas' true identity and explained the circumstances surrounding his legend. She also pleaded that they all forgive him and help him to raise their son.

At the time, Leliana thought her to be naive and unable to see him for what everyone else saw – an arrogant and manipulative self-centered liar. Leliana had doubted that he would ever come back, but here he was – completely broken and devoid of happiness. Perhaps Elessa was able to understand him even better than he understood himself.

"Can I ask you a question," Solas finally requested after a few minutes of silence. "Of course," Leliana responded, happy that he had decided to take some sort of initiative. "Who now protects Da'Fen in the fade," he questioned. Leliana thought about it for a bit and then responded, "After the tragedy, he began staying with Cassandra and Cullen. As to how they protect him, I'm really not sure, but I have no doubt that those two are the best option at the moment," she stated.

Solas assumed that Cassandra and Cullen were limiting his son's magical talents during sleep. This was a short-term solution because being cut off from the fade for an extended period of time was detrimental, especially for a developing mage. Surly Cassandra and Cullen were incredibly sleep-deprived by now, Solas thought as he realized that he would eventually need to help his son as Elessa had.

It took twenty-two stitches to close the wound. "That will definitely leave a scar," sighed Leliana as she frowned at her handiwork and applied a bandage. "When Vivienne comes for the funeral tomorrow, I'll ask her to heal it properly," she added. Solas thanked her and said, "It is quite alright. I have troubled you enough." He really didn't care about a scar and would rather not burden anybody else.

It was getting late, and Solas stopped by Elessa's casket to say one final goodbye before retiring to her old quarters. His heart ached, and he felt sick to his stomach, so he wandered out onto the balcony for some fresh air. Cold gusts of wind swirled across his face and bit at the sides of his mouth and cheek where Dorian had punched him. The dull physical pain from the wound was a good diversion from the more severe pain deep within his heart, and Solas welcomed it as one would welcome an old friend.

He soon found himself curled up on the floor in a corner of her closet underneath various robes and armors. Solas had fond memories of slipping his hands idly between folds of clothing and exchanging loving glances with her as they traveled from one place to another. Elessa's clothes still smelled like her – jasmine and elfroot, and because of this, it was a smell that he would cherish for the rest of his life.

He was soon fast asleep and in the fade, once again conjuring up a memory of Elessa, as he had done each night since her death. This time it was their first kiss. He would participate, and the memory would play before him like a record. Elessa would ask the same questions, reach in for the first kiss, and be surprised when she found out that they were in the fade. It would always be the same, never deviating from its original path or adding new interactions. Always predictable.

His memories were like cruel double-edged swords: On one hand, he would feel temporarily comforted by the little things on which he had honed in at the time – a loving glance during a rain storm, a gentle hand brushing seductively across his back, or a slight inflection of her voice during a laugh. There were fleeting moments where he could once again smile or where he could look back and be reminded of a time when he was genuinely happy; however, a memory is nothing more than a skewed perception of a frozen moment in time – always HIS perception, like having one side of an equation and never being able to solve it.

There were always little things missing in memories that betrayed the truth – little reminders that his perception did not necessarily reflect reality. Perhaps he wasn't paying attention to the way she looked at him, or spoke, or the way that she walked on a particular day when a memory was forged. His mind would automatically fill in the blanks, sometimes producing incongruous errors, like hair blowing in a breeze on a day that lacked wind or a grin in a solemn moment of tragedy.

These tiny incomplete fragments of truth were all he had left of her, and they would forever remain erroneous and unchanged. Reliving memories never satiated his appetite for her, and he always woke up alone, sadder, and wanting more – wanting her.

Solas began to wonder if his son would remember much about his mother as he moves through life. How much could a four year old retain, if anything? He began to cry for the loss of unforged memories that his son would never experience because his mother had been taken away too soon.

Solas decided that he would eventually bring Da'Fen through some of his fondest personal memories of her once he is old enough. He would also bring him through the more painful ones – the ones that exposed his mistakes, his arrogance, and his shame. There would be no secrets between father and son because he did not want his son to repeat his mistakes. He wanted him to become someone better than his father.