Haven was buried under a mountain of snow, the remains of the Temple lost to the might of nature. Yet most of the people survived.

Even Varania.

The Inquisition sang. They made her their leader and Varania was both proud and mortified. How this happened, she simply couldn't understand. Clan Lavellan sent her to the conclave to dispose of her. Her value among free people was hardly more than it had been as a slave. Yet, instead of death she found people who wanted to follow her.

Once, Varania dreamt of becoming a magister and tried to sell her brother and her soul to get it. Now, a fine man told her to embrace the divinity they were putting upon her.

Solas lit Veilfire in the mountains and told her he knew a way to make them love her. He told her there was a place, an ancient place where she could lead her people to victory.

Her people. Not elves. Not slaves. Not even mages. Just people. The Inquisition.

Solas took her to the Fade to tell her a story. Varania hadn't told him her story yet, but she knew she must.

Hawke was here, at this new keep in the sky and she recognized Varania immediately. Yet Hawke knew Leto in the way only a lover could. She knew his blindness. She forgave Varania, even if Fenris hadn't yet.

Varric stood fast when Hawke recognized her. Hawke shouted at him for not telling her, for catching her off guard. She said she hated it when he did that.

He only shrugged.

"You knew all along," Varania realized. She thought he'd forgotten her. Didn't recognize her face under its decoration of vallaslin and her cut hair. "Why didn't you say anything?" The questions needed to be asked. "Why didn't you tell them you knew I was just a slave?"

"You aren't a slave any more. Fenris saw to that." Varania cringed. He had and it was what almost destroyed them both. "Besides," Varric was nonchalant, "You didn't want to be recognized." He shrugged again. "You fucked up and you know it. You fucked up but you're something else now, someone different. People can change. Besides, I know your brother and I know he doesn't always think things through. Whatever really happened probably isn't as simple as he thought it was. Life is never black and white and right and wrong." Varric's chuckle was uncertain, as if he wasn't sure how this story was going to be written yet. "You don't have the market cornered on fucking up, you know."

She told Dorian first because once Varania asked him his opinion about slavery.

I don't know what it's like to be a slave and I suspect you don't either. It was the best he could do. He'd never really thought about it before. But Dorian was wrong about that. Varania knew exactly what it was like.

He was utterly flabbergasted and then sad. He tried to apologize and she stopped him.

She liked it, as much as another could like being a possession. It was just as he suspected, because it was all she ever knew. For a long time, she preferred slavery to being free. She told him the truth, the real truth of how she tried to return herself to servitude of a different sort. She told him how she betrayed her brother to Danarius.

"He betrayed you; Danarius did with his pretty lies of how your life would be better," Dorian said. His voice was crystal. A blade. "I will never...I don't." He stumbled; chipped the blade. "I don't know there's anything I can do."

"Just," Varania looked at the floor. "Just don't look at me like I'm a slave, even though I am."

"You're not a slave." His Tevinter accent helped her believe it.

She told her advisors. Only Cullen couldn't hide his shock. Leliana shook her head. This changes nothing. You are still you. She left it to Josephine to tell the rest of them and decide if the Inquisition as a whole should know the truth. It wasn't a decision she could make on her own.

She went to tell Solas. He was sure to hate her. Nothing irked him more than servitude.

Before she could speak, he asked her to join him elsewhere. She simply accepted that they'd returned to Haven, uncrushed under the mountain. Her mind just allowed it and she walked with him, the gentle snow flakes lighting on her eyelashes and melting on the warm skin on his head. Varania smiled and unconsciously brushed a snowflake from Solas's face.

He blushed. He actually blushed when she touched him.

Her ears burned.

And then the whole world changed. His voice hitched. Varania's mouth curved.

"Sweet talker." She forgot everything she planned to tell him.

She kissed him. Instead of telling him the truth and making him hate her she tasted his lips, warm and soft and closed her eyes to revel in it. She pulled away, suddenly shy. Solas looked amused, a myriad of expression crossing his face before he pulled her back kissed her in return. He wasn't so tentative as she was. He was firm and confident and he parted her lips with his and she forgot how to breathe.

She felt his kiss like the lightning she cast, electric through her whole body. He smelled like the west wind; he smelled like grass, he smelled like leather and the faintest hint of the musk of fur. Her fingers clutched at the stiff ribs of his sweater, marveled at the surprising warmth of the body underneath.

People think elves are collected and cool. But it's a lie. They run hot.

"This isn't right, not even here," Solas said struggling with his own mouth, pulling away. That was what she expected, pulling away, retreat back behind the impenetrable mystery of his eyes. But even as he moved away, the invisible current of electricity still crackled between their bodies.

She wondered if somehow, he knew. If he could taste slavery in her mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm not what...wait." She looked up at him. "What do you mean, not even here?"

"Where did you think we were?" His eyes glittered knowingly.

Varania was legitimately surprised; it was hardly her first trip to...

"The Fade," she realized aloud. "This isn't real."

"That's a matter of debate," he replied, cryptic as ever.

Varania looked at the ground, seeing it for what it was, just a figment of her will and his. She looked up and him again. In the Fade, he was certainly more powerful than she, hardly cutting her teeth on the newness of truly wielding her magic.

But he kissed her, even so. It wasn't she who willed it to happen, no matter how she desired it.

"Solas," she said his name as hardly more than a sigh. "There's something I need to tell you. I'm not..." He put his finger over her lips.

"It's easier here," he said, "But even I have to concede that important things are best discussed after you..." He paused. Smiled, feral. "Wake up."

Varania sat up with the jolt, alone in her quarters. But she swore she could still feel his touch, smell him there though she'd never been anything other than alone in this room.

"Solas," she said his name into the silence. "I was a slave." She swallowed. "I wanted to be a magister so I didn't have to be a slave anymore." Her lip trembled. "I tried to give the most horrible abusive man I've even known my brother as a gift so I didn't have to be hungry anymore."

No one heard her.