A/N: And now presenting, (the official) chapter 2!

WARNING: THERE BE SPOILERS

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

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Title: A Sky Full of Compassion

Rating: T

Pairing: Solas/F!Lavellan

Summary: "When love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you." – Khalil Gibran

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"The evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming." – Al Stewart


X=X= CHAPTER 2: COMING OF THE DAWN =X=X

She seemed lost.

The voices of the Andrastian humans rose up in harmony, echoing in the snow filled valley around her. The notes, horribly out of tune but still beautiful, were sung out to the ruined sky above, forming, shaping. A belief turned real, if only for a moment. A mighty crescendo, seemingly drowning her in its strength. A song that sang of loss, but was also full of hope.

The sight was actually quite impressive.

Solas watched her, her white braided hair twisting and turning amongst the throng of people suddenly gathered around her. The fire reflected off the pure white strands, changing them to a fiery orange under the light of the moon. And such a bright light it was, a burning flame amidst the darkened shadows.

In that moment, he could believe that she was a beacon of hope for this world, a true leader, a Herald. Perhaps not one for Andraste, but a Herald and shepherd none the less.

Indeed, Solas thought, tilting his head and leaning against a nearby tent pole. A light akin to that of the time of Arlathan. He immediately chastised himself for such a rash thought – it was impossible.

There was no way that she could be…

A real poignant silence fell over the camp. Then, as one, a cheer of utter joy. It seemed that the humans' faith had been restored. It was strange, Solas thought. To think that a song of such magnitude could return the faith of many was truly astounding.

His attention turned to her.

She was quietly being spoken to by Mother Giselle, the instigator of the song. Then, as the older woman walked away, her blue eyes immediately turned to him. They showed an expressive expectancy, as if she was aware that he wished to speak with her. That was something that Solas had come to expect from the Herald – there were many things she knew and many things that she should not know. Indeed, the things she did know were many, so many that even he had trouble keeping up sometimes. Yet, despite this almost all-knowing nature, she said not a word regarding it. It was odd.

He tilted his head, only breaking her gaze when he pushed himself off the tent pole and made his way out of the camp.

She needed to know of the orb's purpose. And of its origin.

Even if they dared not listen, the Dalish did not need to fall further than they already had. Indeed, whenever he believed that it was not possible for the Dalish to fall even lower, something else would happen that would prove him wrong. It was both frustrating and greatly saddening, but at the same time, strangely fascinating.

As he waited for her, his hands lit the nearby brazier alight then folded themselves behind his back.

She was an enigma.

Allying with the rebel mages, despite their involvement with the plot that Alexius devised to see her destroyed was not what he had expected. Indeed, the move itself ensured that the mages were loyal and somewhat happy with their freedom. He had no doubts that, if the Chantry would have its way, the mages would return to their gilded cages, locked even tighter than they were before the Mage-Templar war. That was unless the Herald had a say in the matter. Indeed, the Elvhen mage believed that she would protest, and quite loudly at that, in the event that such a thing were to happen.

The Templars themselves were more or less gone, much to Solas' own relief. It was made obvious with their involvement in the destruction of Haven. Their usage of the red lyrium sent the message loud and clear. The Commander and the Seeker might believe that after Corypheus was gone, they might be able to rebuild the group, but Solas had his own doubts on that matter. The Herald herself did not seem like the type to support the Templars in much of anything. He had no doubt that it might come to the point when the fledgling Inquisition would stretch out its wings, their new leader at its helm, to smack down the remnants of the Templar organization.

A tug at his sleeve. When he turned to look at her, blue eyes stared up at him, holding his gaze.

"The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting," he said, giving a nod and a slight bow, "It was a hard-won task, lethallan, worthy of pride… Save one detail."

She tilted her head, letting her hands fold in front of her, listening patiently.

"The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carried? It is ours," Solas revealed. She blinked. There was something in her eyes, her seemingly all-knowing eyes, something that hinted more than just mild curiosity. It was not surprise, nor shock. He did not linger on the observation however. The information he was about to let her know of was too important to withhold.

"Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. We must find out how he survived," he urged, "And we must prepare for their reaction, when they learn that the orb is of our people."

She gave a determined nod, her eyes hardening. She then cupped her hands together, forming a ball shape, then brushed his arm with it before tapping her forehead. 'Alright, what is it and how do you know about it?'

"Such things were foci, said to channel power from our gods," he replied, acknowledging her question, "Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire."

Not a complete lie, but also not the complete truth. He knew from her slightly narrowed eyes though that she seemed to have caught onto something. Had he let something slip? But no, based on her silence, Solas knew that even if she had discovered something, she would not say a word. Literally and figuratively. He was grateful for that, even if it might only be a matter of time before she would ask the question related to it.

"But however Corypheus came to it," he continued, "the orb is elvhen, and with it, he threatens the very heart of human faith."

She nodded, almost thoughtfully. She then mimicked building a house of some sort with her hands. She reached up to tap her nose, gesturing to the mountains around them, then resumed the building of the house. As it was completed, she then interlaced her fingers together, pulling lightly to indicate that it was sealed tightly. Solas nodded in response.

"Exactly. Their trust will be an advantage you must have. By guiding them to a safe place, a place to call a home, you will be above reproach, being the most trusted of them all."

At this, she smiled, clapping her hands together as if she were delighted by something that he had said. Solas raised an eyebrow in genuine confusion. But the thought quickly melted away into surprise when she wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

He immediately stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion of his personal space. However, as her arms around him failed to loosen, he found himself relaxing. As he placed his hands on her hips to steady the both of them, he could not help but notice how small she actually was. Indeed, he could remember how tiny she had been when chained to the floor of the dark and gloomy cell back at Haven, but that had seemed so long ago.

To think it had only been a few months since this all began.

He felt a slight movement and looked down at her, watching as she actually nuzzled into his chest. He felt his heart tighten and his mouth go dry as he watched her. Such a tiny creature, seemingly taking comfort in the embrace of a beast, a monster. He honestly did not know what he had done to deserve such a timid, desperate gesture.

And then, a soft sound, a tiny murmur. He would have mistaken it for a simple breeze if he had been standing further away. It was so quiet, easily missed unless one listened very, very carefully. In fact, he was almost entirely certain it was just his imagination.

"Thank you."