So someone left me a review wishing there was a sequel to this fic, and there is! It's called Aftermath and is a continuation of the main story and what will now happen in the new timeline. Or what won't. I don't keep my fanfiction account updated anymore because it's so annoying uploading anything to this site and I've done it for 43897 years and I'm tired lol. More of my stuff can be found on Archive of Our Own or even more writing on Tumblr. I am jessicapendragon over on those places too.
Either way I'm added the sequel chapters here so enjoy and thank you for your reviews and likes! I still very much appreciate each thing I get.
He tells her about his past and she believes him.
It takes some time - Cassandra storms up the steps with sword and shield blazing, eyes scanning for danger, and only finds two weeping elves kneeling amongst the shattered remains of an ancient artifact. It is the sudden appearance of Cole that rends them apart. He appears in a shower of shadows and sparks, body shaking and shimmering like heat above ground although there is a cold breeze coming from him.
"There's thousands of voices but they're not saying anything. Real and not real, alive and dead. No, not dead. Never was, never feeling but I feel it. No no no! I don't understand! What did you do?"
"Peace, Cole." Solas closes his eyes and takes a breath, and the shivering stops. The spirit boy lets out a noise of relief before his gaze narrows, mouth turning down in a grimace like she's never seen.
"You did not deserve it," he spits out.
A nod, short but heavy. "I know."
"What is going on?" Cassandra asks.
"There is no more danger for the moment. Perhaps we should concentrate on the larger matter at hand?" Solas suggests.
He is right, of course. There are orders to give and plans to be made in the wake of Corypheus' defeat. Victory is only the beginning of another journey. They are all so tired but there is a buzz of excitement that travels up and down the ranks of the Inquisition, a joy growing beneath a quiet, scarred sky, and yet hers is tempered by the way Solas' and Cole's voices echo in her head.
It is almost dawn by the time they settle into their tents to rest for the return journey to Skyhold. This is no rest for her although it is an inconvenience she is well versed in by now. Solas takes her hand and guides her into the forest away from camp until the fires are distant smudges through the trees.
"What happened with Cole?"
His fingers shake in hers and when he turns to face her she recoils. He looks tortured, unsure, and she's thrown back into that glade all over again. There are no half-truths and distance masquerading as kindness this time, however. "He saw what I am about to tell you. Keela…"
He moves to touch her face but stops, stricken again by whatever overcame him before. She takes his hand and lifts it the rest of the way to press into her cheek, hoping that this touch might alleviate this pain. His expression only seem to grow sharper with shame because of it. "I want you to know-" he shakes his head, "I will accept any judgement you wish to pass and do whatever I must, if not for you then for Thedas, to make amends."
"Solas, just tell me."
His secrets are longer, heavier things than she could have ever imagined.
Perhaps it would be a more difficult thing to believe if her life wasn't a fantastical story of its own. Everything is made easier with Mythal's meeting fresh in her mind, the goddess' endless well of knowledge confirming the fall of Evanuris and Elvhenan alike in a chorus of a thousand voices. The old stories were partially true, puzzle pieces put together in the wrong order but close to completion. Another legend stands before her now as flesh and blood and freckles that darken in the endless sun of the desert, and she finally knows him.
"After everything I had thought you might be Elvhen, but this…"
Solas smiles and it seems a challenging thing to forge from the severe cut of his features. "You have always been clever. There were times when I hoped you would come to the conclusions on your own. As always, I ask too much of you."
Anger simmers low beneath her skin. "Did you think I would not understand?"
"I-yes. How could you? I believed you would only see me as the monster from your people's tales and I selfishly did not wish for such a thing. For the road ahead, it would be best for the both of us if we did not share the journey together."
"You should have trusted me."
A quiet laugh sticks in the back of his throat. "Yes, I know. There is more."
He tells her about his plans for the present, of an orb given and stolen at the same time, of her world burning in chaos to make way for his if needed, and even in this she is not surprised. His stubborn determination has always been in contest with her own and now she knows the full depths of his guilt. There are days when her shame makes her wish she could change everything - she can barely imagine how the burden of a thousand lives and years lost would break a gentle heart.
Her own seems to trip and fall, rattles against every bone in her chest on its way down to her stomach. His continuing answers cause clawing questions to scratch through her mind. "Why are you telling me this now? What's changed? Is it because you wish for my help or because you no longer wish to go through with it?"
It takes him a few moments to answer and with each passing second the talons dig in just a little further. "It is because I already have."
"I don't understand?"
He tells her about the future and it is something she cannot, will not, believe.
Her hand twitches as he describes the fate of the anchor but there are far worse revelations than the loss of her limb and betrayal found through eluvian after eluvian chasing qunari and scraps of clues. The description of the Veil's demise and the following destruction makes her feel sick with the realization of her own failures. How could she let him succeed? Her body grows cold as he pauses, eyes watering and words choked, when he informs her of her own death at the hands of her people. He talks quickly after that, about his cold grief and the harsh times for the Elven, about a rebel that rises from the ashes and reminds the Dread Wolf of his heart.
"I believed it was you for some time," he says. "But the truth…"
Her mind is reeling with the impossibilities of his tale and yet she cannot help her curious nature. "Who was it?"
Eyes plagued with pain meet hers and she wishes she could take the question back. "It was our daughter."
"Our…what? Our daughter?"
"You were with child when the Veil was sundered. I did not know until afterwards and I was led to assume you were both killed in the Redcliffe explosion. She was raised by others to see me dethroned, but after learning it was her caretakers that took your life instead sought to change fate. It was her doing that returned me here through some magic I do not know and the use of my new focus."
"I…" Keela shakes her head and feels all his confessions strike against the insides of her skull. She stops herself from asking if this is all some joke, even entertains the idea that this is an awful vision of a demon. Or perhaps she perished in the fight with Corypheus and has landed into an unforgiving afterlife. Fingernails dig into the palms of her hands, the smell of pine and cool air fills her lungs - this is real, but it can't be.
Solas reaches into one of his pockets and rolls a stone between his fingers. "I was surprised to see it survive, but it must have been protected by the spell somehow. I am sure she knew you would require more proof than my words alone."
"What, what is…" Sense is leaving her and she feels her palms sweat even as a cold grip seizes inside.
"It is a memory crystal, made by your hand. The Elvhen of old used to make them to help keep record of their long lives."
"I haven't made anything like that."
"Not yet. It contains your memories beginning from the explosion at the Conclave until-" Solas retracts his hand. "Forgive me, I should not have forced all of this upon you so quickly. It is…"
He looks away from her and into the night. There is no hiding behind carefully crafted masks now - she can see the lines of fatigue upon his face, the misery and fear mixing with the violet patterns in his eyes. She cannot believe this future, but if it is true then he has lived it, caused it, and bears the weight of more than one world shattered beyond all repair.
"What have you done?" she whispers and his body jolts as if she's struck him. He does not answer her, seems incapable of forming words beyond the tightening of his lips. Never has he been so exposed and open, not even when Wisdom thrashed and perished, not even when he has confessed his love or given into his desires. With a strangled sound, Solas sinks to the ground at her feet, bowed and broken. She watches his cheeks glisten in the dim light of veilfire and his features twist in shadows and sorrow, body hunching even further like he is being pulled down into a thick, hungry mud.
They are both in something inescapable and she feels the pull too.
There is no doubt that she will regret what comes next but it does not stop her from kneeling down and holding out her hand. If this is real, she must find it out for herself. "What must I do?"
"Clasp it tight and close your eyes. You may direct it with your thoughts or let the visions wash over you. I…I am sorry, vhenan. It should have been me. It should have been me."
She takes the crystal from one hand and takes hold onto the other, squeezing to reassure them both. Before she can convince herself otherwise, Keela takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Magic tickles up her spine and fills her head. The black in front of her eyes ignites in swirls of colors that quickly form into familiar shapes. She watches herself grab hold of the orb, defeat Envy's deception, lift the Inquisitor's sword high above Skyhold. Every important moment and battle of the Inquisition flies by her gaze, but the moments with Solas appear brighter, clearer, like they must not be forgotten. She relives a kiss in the Fade, their first night beneath the monoliths of the Exalted Plains, a quiet moment as he wipes away her tears beneath the graves of her ancestors.
Then there are things she does not remember. She watches herself at the bottom of the stairs glancing backwards after the battle with Corypheus to see Solas gone. She travels far into the Deep Roads and narrowly escapes an ax, but it leaves a permanent mark all the same. Years seem to pass, filled with assassins and anger and the gentle touch of someone else, and Solas doesn't appears again until she's breaking apart at his feet. He wears strange armor, speaks of all the things he's told her today, and leaves with a kiss and a promise that feels as empty as the void growing in her heart.
Everything has been true and her denial chips away with every scene.
Solas is in almost every memory after that. She finds him beneath the ground in ancient ruins where they fumble in desperation, catches him within the tower of Skyhold for a last embrace. She fights against Abelas and watches her world die and split apart for the advance of another. Cole disappears into the wind, tattered but happy to find release. She witnesses the evidence of her pregnancy for the first time as she turns to face Solas and they are both broken things beneath a stitched together sky.
The next memory is of her cradling a newborn babe in her arms. She sees a tuft of blackened hair before Keela unfurls her fingers around the stone and hurtles back into the present. In a rush she rises to her feet and stares at the magical device in horror. "No…no! No, this cannot be real. I can't…I…"
"Keela-"
"No!"
She runs. She turns and runs into the darkness and doesn't look back. Her quick feet pound in time with the frantic beating of her heart as she tries to outpace the monster nipping close to her heels. The sliver of the moon above is enough for her eyes to see but even so she stumbles into leaves and tree trunks, barely catches herself from falling from the threat of twigs and rocks bellow. It is made all the more difficult by the burning tears in her eyes and the burning fire in her lungs, for she cannot catch her breath for all the screams building inside.
She doesn't know how far she's traveled before a final, hidden limb catches her foot and sends her sprawling into soft grass and snapped branches. The world is quiet here, empty save for the sky of a billion diamonds glistening bright, and she tries to picture her worries as far away as those other places. There is no Fen'Harel. There is no conspiracy or agents, or a Veil that needs ripped apart. There is no loss and scars etched into her heart and skin. There is no child.
If she closes her eyes she might believe it but the memory crystal is still in her hand somehow, the rough edges having left marks into her palm. It is evidence of a future she refuses to believe, of a betrayal so deep that she fears she will never see the sky again if she gives into this knowledge. Keela curls up onto her side and glares at the gem- such a small thing, to ruin her forever. She wishes she could let it go, bury it beneath the dirt here and forget it ever touched her mind, but the damage is done.
With a trembling cry she lets herself succumb to the magic of the crystal. The cozy cottage spirals back into view and she watches an elf enter the room with Dirthamen's lines upon his face. She does not know him, but she knows the flowing accent of her birthplace that flows from his lips. All she can really concentrate on is the figure wrapped up in her arms held like a precious gift. The babe's eyes are closed and she wonders about their color - are they a blue full with subtle colors or her own bright yellow?
"I will not let anything happen to either of you. You have my word," the other elf says. "Rest. In any case she cannot greet the world without a proper name, no? Have you decided?"
Her future self, with the scar upon her face and the evidence of a war lost in the slump of her body and the gleam of her false arm, kisses a smooth brow with a warm smile that speaks of hope and love and the possibility for something wonderful in the ashes of world gone. "Fenera."
Keela lets the stone fall from her fingers and the wooden walls give way to the open sky once more. Her denial wavers, a blanket that kicks and bucks as the heavy wind of undeniable truth picks it up and carries it away. Something else reaches out to cover her now, now that she can no longer hide. It is hot, burning where she was cold, demands she strike out when she was caught standing still.
As rage races beneath her skin and scorches her veins, she sits up to glare back towards the way she came. Her throat aches as she forces a name through her lips. "Solas."