While there were no greens directly surrounding Skyhold, there was a small valley about fifteen minutes away. It was a hike that involved a few precarious jumps, some crawling, and invariably a whole host of bumps and bruises but it was worth it on the odd day that Cha'cer missed her clan. Surely it would have been easier to erect small statuettes in the garden inside the walls of the fortress, but she was of the firm belief that without being in the wild open there was no point to the Dalish or their rituals. They were something that could not be domesticated into society again. They were fiercely proud, stubborn, and as Solas would have said: wildly inaccurate.
She had been so worried the first time he'd declared injury from her people. He'd said something along the lines of being brutally attacked for 'no reason whatsoever' when he had offered 'insight'. She'd poked and prodded for more details but he adamantly refused any such information. It had taken her a grand total of two months to have him admit that it was "sort of" about religion. Until this morning she had just figured it was some silly little thing he had held onto out of scholarly pride.
When Leliana had knocked on her door, her heart had stopped in her chest. She could count on one hand the times the spymaster had found it appropriate to seek her out; one of those times being in a dungeon with a rather angry Cassandra concerning a hole in the sky. The last mission she had sent the spymaster on had been a deeply personal one. It hadn't been more than a year since Solas had disappeared. At first Leliana had been insistent on looking for him. She was so sure that his disappearance was a bad sign but Cha'cer hadn't wanted to hear it. Sending out a search party somehow equated to her accepting that he was really gone; that he had really left her. Instead she practiced the breathing techniques he had taught her on the battlements with a sharp eye out on the horizon. If he was to ever return she wanted to be the first to see it.
This morning Leliana had looked nervous. She had her hood down and had elected to wear one of the nicer dresses she had purchased since the end of the war—matched impeccably with the perfect shoes, of course. She smiled and greeted her like an old friend with a tray of tea and biscuits in her hands. There was even a small hastily pulled flower stuck in what looked like an old broken glass with some filthy water at the base of the stem. Cha'cer had raised her eyebrows and tried to ignore the painful beating in her chest.
"What's the occasion? I hadn't planned on another breach for at least three more weeks," the elf joked.
"Hardly a laughing matter, Lavellan," Leliana had said, but she smiled nonetheless. It did not put Cha'cer at ease. Cha'cer took the tray of food from her and placed it carefully on her desk. She turned around to face the spymaster.
"Well then. Are you going to tell me what's so urgent?" She picked her words with care.
Leliana's smile faltered. Cha'cer's heart fell.
"Perhaps it would be best if you sat down." Leliana had gestured awkwardly to the chair next to her.
She had, and Leliana had been right to suggest it. The words bounced off her like arrows to a shield. She had let the poor spymaster struggle to make her observations seem real, but she had come well equipped. Maps tracing the times he had been seen, marks here and there to indicate eluvians, and then the list of omens. At first she had laughed. But then Leliana showed her the logs of the clans nearby: each omen checked off the list without fail. It was unmistakable. Cha'cer had sat in silence for hours as Leliana went over it again and again.
"It seems absurd, I know, I realize that—"
"Enough," Cha'cer said. Leliana had nodded and left her with all the painstakingly constructed maps and notes scattered across the floor like a puzzle that ended in heartbreak no matter how she pieced it together.
So here she was, headed stubbornly towards that garden valley. She had already slipped up several times and nearly thrown herself off a cliff twice. A bright shiny new bruise was already forming at the crest of her cheek but she had made it. It was a ramshackle little imitation of an elvhen place of worship, but it did the trick. Tiny statuettes of all the gods were barely peeking over the tips of the tall grass she had so carefully trimmed last year. He'd helped her, grumbling the whole way about the gods being locked away anyways according to the 'wildly inaccurate' myths so what was even the point? She had hushed him, explained something about Keepers with sticks up their asses being oddly comforting in times of uncertainty. He had given her a look somehow mashing together begrudging respect and disapproval. Today, however, Cha'cer walked past Falon'din and Mythal (with a small raspberry aimed at the latter) to the tiny stone statue of a wolf that Solas had left.
"If you insist on ritual, vhenan, then I must insist on some reason to it," he had said, placing the wolf on top of a stone where the grass would not grow.
"Ah, yes," she had said, "Nothing like the great betrayal to add reason to my prayers. Tell me, what am I praying to Fen'harel for?"
"You ought to pray for nothing," he told her stubbornly. "Speaking to stone rarely yields results. But if you must pray then at least be sure it is a god that can still hear you."
She had laughed and accepted that, jokingly placing a ring of flowers around the tiny wolfs head to welcome him back into the lonesome group. The daisies had long since wilted and rotted. Only a few stems remained on the stone around the wolf where she had placed them. With a careful hand, she brushed the pieces aside and sat down. Cha'cer had never been great at prayer or ritual. She took it with a grain of salt and often got chastised for treating the gods with too much trust and familiarity. In retrospect, her keeper had been spot on.
"So. I heard the news," she told the statue. She paused, half expecting a response. The wolf remained as silent and stone-like as ever.
"Fen'harel, huh?" She laughed. "I thought you said you'd been attacked for 'no reason'. A bit of an understatement, isn't it?"
The wolf stared back at her accusingly and she relented with a nod. Absently her fingers found the stems of buttercups growing in the grass beside her knees and pulled at each one until it snapped.
"I suppose that's as good a reason as it can get for leaving," she said quietly. She followed up quickly with, "And before you give me that bloody lecture about responsibility, burdens, and sacrifice, I'm not angry. Not anymore."
"Gods," she muttered. "I'm talking to a souvenir. I'm the fucking Inquisitor and I'm talking to a toy from Val Royeax."
The wolf sat patiently, its gaze unwavering. She offered it a small silly smile. She felt ridiculous and she knew he would think her ridiculous.
"He hears you, I think."
Cha'cer whirled around. The small pile of flowers she had accrued flew from her lap. She had her daggers pulled and ready only to find Cole watching her. His large hat dropped comically on either side of his nonchalant face. He did not flinch. It nowhere near the first time he had startled her. Cha'cer slung her daggers back into their sheaths and sat again with a sigh.
"You think so?" She asked softly. "Or are you saying that to help me heal?"
Cole smiled. "I think you've healed nicely, but some hurt will stay. I cannot help that."
He paused, checking the statue. His eyes widened. He blinked a few times and Cha'cer couldn't help but look behind her just in case. The stone wolf stood vigilant as ever. When she looked at Cole again it was his eyes that shone a brilliant green. The unearthy colour beamed out like it could barely be contained. The sheltered valley was suddenly full of a great howling wind and she had to shield her eyes from the debris it threw. Tendrils of smoke curled and muttered from his mouth, hissing at the winds. She recoiled in horror. Her knuckles were white on the grip of her daggers but fell limp when he spoke.
"Ma ar'lath, vhenan. Ma emma solas." Cole's mouth moved, but it was Solas' voice. A year passed or not she could never forget the timbre. Her hands were shaking but she knew she had no time. She grabbed Cole's hands, Solas's hands, as quick as she could ignoring the soft cold pallor of the spirit. She shook them fiercely and pleaded with the green light.
"Come home, vhenan. Please. I miss you so much—"
But her voice fell on deaf ears. Before she had even completed the sentence the light dimmed until Cole was himself again. She let his hands go and sat back. Cole watched her crumple back into the earth. It took her hours to regain enough strength to return to Skyhold.