The cook kicked Varania out of the kitchen at dawn.

Bleary eyed, she blinked at the sunlight. Her eyes watered and she wiped at her face with her hands. She knew she should have tried to sleep, listened to what Loghain had to say, gotten drunk, anything other than spending the entire night skulking around with a hot ache in the center of her chest.

She'd come to a conclusion at least. She loved Solas. It didn't matter that she knew hardly anything about him or that he didn't yet know her darkest secret. It didn't matter if he felt the same. And as much as it would hurt, it didn't even matter if he decided not to return.

She loved him and nothing was going to change it.

It felt good to finally admit it. Varania tried to blame it on slavery, as her mind worked it over. Slaves didn't fall in love. How could she even know what it was? But that was a lie. She always knew what love was. It came in degrees and flavors, but it was always the same at it's core.

Love meant wanting someone to be happy. She knew love and she knew it just as well as someone who had always been free. She had a family, a mother. She loved her. She loved Fenris. He was her brother and she did love him, but then she broke herself and forgot how. She vowed that she'd find some way to make it up to him.

Perhaps that was something she could do. Hawke was here while they scouted the Western Approach. She could talk to Maire Hawke who had kind blue eyes and find out how she could fix things somehow. Fenris might never forgive her, but she was determined to try.

She made it around the corner and halfway down the stairs to the courtyard when she saw him and all her other plans were immediately forgotten.

Solas.

He walked through the gate into the yard, his normal graceful gait still heavy with grief. Varania could almost feel the pain rolling off of him, even from here. It took all her composure to not rush down the stairs to try to console him. She'd only touched him outside the Fade once, unless he'd touched her first. She wondered too often what it would be like to know that comfort, that easy consent to just put the tips of her fingers on his face or the palm of her hand in the hollow of his back. She ached to touch him and to give him whatever succor she could. Instead, she let her nails bite into her palm and swallowed before taking the last few steps to the bottom of the stairs.

He noticed her only when she spoke, his head tipping up to meet her eyes.. "You came back." She wondered if it sounded as desperate to him as it did to her.

"Inquisitor." His voice was a little low, a little clipped.

"How are you?" She folded her hands behind her back to keep them under her control.

"It hurts," he said, looking back down for a moment. He took a breath and met her eyes again. "It always does. But I will survive."

The pain when he spoke make her heart sink. "I'm so sorry."

"You did everything you could, you were a ... a true friend. I am sorry if I gave you cause to think I would not return."

"I was only worried about you," she said and this time her hand moved without her even considering it. She realized she'd actually taken his hand in hers before she could stop herself. He let her. He didn't move away. "If you have cause to mourn again, you don't have to be alone."

"Thank you," he said, looking down at their intertwined hands. He squeezed gently. "It's been so long since I could trust someone."

"I know." And she did know. She knew how it felt to be afraid to trust. She couldn't trust herself at times, but he could trust her. She would kill herself to prove it.

Solas made a sound almost like a sigh and looked up at her again. "I will work on it." He managed a ghost of a smile and it was the most beautiful thing. It lasted only a few heartbeats before he frowned at her again. "You haven't slept."

Varania pursed her lips. "I had a rough night."

Solas looked sheepish. "I'd ask you to tell me that it was not of my doing, but I fear you would not answer correctly."

She shrugged. "I was worried. I..." She shook her head. "Don't blame yourself for my inadequacies."

He squeezed her hand again, almost a little too hard. "Please, you need rest. I will seek you out after you have rested, if you promise to sleep. I...," he took a half step forward and took her other hand, putting them both between his. He lifted their hands between then and looked for moment as if he was going to kiss her fingertips but thought better of it. He gave them another squeeze, gentle this time. "I do have things I would like to discuss with you. But first, find some rest in the Fade."

Varania apparently looked more skeptical than she realized, considering his expression.

"Please. For me," he asked.

"For you," she sighed, "For you, I will." For you, anything.

He let her hands go. "Dareth Shiral, Inquisitor." Formal again, but some of the dark shade behind his eyes seemed lessened. It made it easier and harder to breathe, all at once. "I will find you later."

"Yes, I'd like that," she admitted. "Dareth Shiral, lethallin."

The part she didn't say this time; Ma bora'din. Ma nuvenin, Solas.

She slept, collapsing fully clothed into a little ball in her bed. Just knowing Solas was alive, unbroken, in one piece; that would have been enough to set her mind at ease. But he was also here and as safe as that could mean, considering the state of the world. Sleep came easier than she expected.

She also owed Loghain a drink. He was right, after all.

Dreams were hazy and insubstantial, as they usually were. She didn't mind. That meant that she actually rested and even she had to admit she needed it. She'd been on edge the entire time Solas was gone, more than she'd even realized until it was passed. It was like slicing a dagger through a bow string. She was spent.

The side of the bed moved, just a fraction. It wasn't enough to startle her, only gently get her attention. Waking always felt a bit like surfacing from a pond and taking a deep breath. She breathed in through her nose and caught the faint scent of the wind, of sweet grass, of woodsmoke. Varania opened her eyes.

"Welcome back, lethallan," Solas said. It was Solas sitting down on the bed beside her that had woken her. She smiled at him, grateful that his face was the first thing she got to see. A girl wasn't always that lucky. She hadn't locked the door. She was glad.

Varania stretched a little. "What time is it?"

"Sunset," he replied.

She sat up fast enough to make her feel a little dizzy. "What? I slept the entire day?"

He shrugged languidly. "I asked that no one disturb you, which was not terribly effective, however Cassandra insisted once I explained. That was effective." He looked amused.

She shook her head at him. "But what if something happened?"

"Things happen all the time, with or without your participation, Inquisitor..." He noticed her grimace at the formality. "Varania," he amended. And we need you well, more than we need you to do everything."

"I am well enough, I suppose," she said. She coughed, her throat dry from entirely too much sleep. Solas reached to the table and poured water from the pitcher there. He handed her the glass and gestured for her to drink. She took the cup from him, trying not to linger when her fingers brushed across his. She swallowed and for just a moment he watched her a little too carefully before he stood and took a few steps away. He set his hands on the railing to the stairs, his back to her.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked, still facing away from her. Varania swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Of course."

"What were you like?" he asked. "Before the anchor?"

Her heart stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Has it affected you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your...spirit?" His voice caught. She wasn't entirely sure what he was asking, but this could only end with the inevitable confession of her past. She wasn't sure she was ready for this. Her head hurt.

"The anchor...didn't change me, no. I don't think so." She got to her feet. That was true. It changed her life, but not who she was. "Why do you ask?" She tried to sound nonchalant, even though her heart was hammering.

He turned to look at her, gesturing for her to follow him as he headed out on to the balcony. The sky was blushed as pink as a rose. Solas turned to her and the tips of his ears were flushed nearly the same shade.

"You have shown a wisdom I have not seen...," he paused and struggled for a word. "Since my deepest exploration of the ancient memories of the Fade." He spoke a little too quickly. It made her feel a uncomfortable. "You are not what I expected."

Her hands were trembling. "What...have I done that is so surprising?"

"You have shown a subtlety to your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours?" He looked pained. He struggled again. "Have I misjudged them?"

"I...shit," she cursed. Solas raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't expecting that either." Some of the tension dissolved, on his end at least.

Varania felt a bit like flinging herself off the balcony to avoid this conversation. But here it was. There was no excuse to avoid the subject now. She had to tell him. She couldn't live with herself, she couldn't dare even think to herself that she loved him and not tell him the truth now.

"The Dalish didn't make me who I am," she said, swallowing hard. "The decisions were mine."

"It is good of you to give yourself that credit, that..." She stopped him.

"No, wait." She put a hand up and almost touched him but thought better of it. Not now. "The decisions were mine, yes. And...the Dalish didn't raise me."

Solas looked perplexed. "I don't understand."

"I lived with the Dalish, for a time. I earned my vallaslin; I learned some of their ways. But my blood is not Dalish. I'm from...Tevinter." She looked at the ground, not wanting to see his face when she said it finally. "I am...I was a slave."

"Oh," was his only reply. A single syllable that felt like a blade in her heart. Silence stretched out deep and wide between them. Varania gathered the scraps of her courage, found the well of strength she carried that allowed her to be who she'd become. She looked up at him with wide eyes. Solas was gazing out over the mountains, at the pastel sky. He seemed to sense her looking and he turned back. His expression was, as it often was, unreadable.

She took another hard fought breath and she told him. She told him everything. How Fenris fought for her freedom and how freedom was more bitter than slavery in Tevinter. She told him about lyrium tattoos and escape and betrayal. She told him how she ran. She told him about her brief time with the Dalish and told him about survival. She told him about the depth of her weaknesses and how it was only then that she found strength, once everything she ever knew was snatched away by her own horrible, broken failures.

She told him everything and fell silent again with a last plea for forgiveness that she did not expect him to give her.

"I am so sorry I didn't tell you right away," she said. "I was afraid. At first I didn't know if I could trust you. Once I knew I could," she shook her head, "I was even more afraid I would lose you, your friendship and I..." She didn't continue. She loved him, but it would be wrong to tell him now. It would be manipulation. She wouldn't do it.

Solas would either accept who she was or he wouldn't, but she would not force him to it.

Varania expected him to walk away. She expected him to look at her with disgust. Instead, he smiled at her, bright as a star. Instead of abhorrence, his face was the very picture of admiration.

"You are...so much stronger, more than I even realized," he sounded astonished. "You have been through so much hardship and made grave errors, and here you are striving to save the same world that has hurt you so deeply. You see and admit your mistakes and take responsibility for them. You struggle to right your own wrongs. I am utterly amazed." He sighed. Bit his lip for a split second. "Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you."

Varania was beside herself. "What does this mean, Solas?"

"It means," his smile widened. "It means that I have not forgotten the kiss."

She smiled like a fool. "Even...?"

"More, now."

And he thought he was amazed? Her strength flooded back in with a tide of desire. She took a single step closer to him, her hands still carefully folded behind her back. "Good," was the best she could manage.

Solas looked down at her. When they were close, he seemed so tall, though he was not even a half head taller than she was. His eyes flicked between her eyes and her lips. A line appeared between his eyebrows and he shook his head, turning away from her.

Her hand darted out and grabbed his elbow. "Don't go."

"It would be kinder in the long run...but losing you would...," He couldn't finish, instead she fell into his arms and just like in the Fade, he kissed her.

This time, in the fullness of the mortal world, she felt his heartbeat against her, the fine texture of his skin, the sweet taste of his breath. Her hands were on his waist, his back, feeling the tension of the wiry muscles underneath.

"Ar lath ma vhenan," he breathed, pulling away from her. He tried to walk away again. He even made it a few steps before she stopped him.

"You can't just say that and walk away," she said to his back. He stopped, his hand coming up to brace himself against the door.

"I...," he began and fought for the next words. "It has been so long since..."

Solas said she was strong. She decided to prove it and took the few paces to him. She set her chin on his shoulder and her arm around his waist again. He was as tense as a spring, but even so, he leaned back against her.

"I haven't ever been in love before," she admitted as he leaned his head against her. "We'll go slowly."

He put his free hand over hers. "You astound me."

"I hope to," she replied quickly and Solas laughed despite himself. She moved herself around to face him and offered him her hand. "Come, vhenan, let me show you."

Notes:

Ma bora'din. Ma nuvenin, Solas. = My bad attempt at elvhen, meaning loosely "I don't want to lose you. I need you Solas"