A/N Since I already have so much of this written, I decided it doesn't make sense to force people to wait a whole week between updates. Especially when the last chapter was an immense cliffhanger with both the baby revelation and the Fen'Haral bomb so close to each other. If you like this...let me know! Like all writers, I ADORE reviews. You might have guessed by this chapter's title that the "Solas Doesn't know" arc is over.

Six

The Truth

As Ellana spit into the void and wiped at her mouth, groaning, Solas watched her with his brow knitted and his lips parted, stunned into speechlessness. The heat of his anger drained away, replaced by the cold weightlessness of shock. The events of the last day started to fit together into a strange cohesion: Sera's new nickname for him, his spy's unwillingness to discuss palace rumors, Dorian's insistence that afternoon that he marry Ellana…

He saw the others either staring at him and Ellana or pretending to be absorbed with cleaning a weapon, adjusting armor, or looting the Qunari bodies. The two sentinels still waited for him to address them and he could almost feel disapproval radiating from them. Everyone seemed to be content in waiting for him to react more fully to this news, preferably in front of them so they could gossip about it later—

And that was when it hit him anew that everyone apparently knew about it. None of their current companions looked surprised and everyone Solas had spoken with on the palace grounds, from Ellana's advisors to companions like Varric, Sera, and Dorian, had all behaved bizarrely. He felt his cheeks bloom with humiliation but refused to let embarrassment show in his posture. He kept his back straight and his head up as he moved to Ellana's side.

"Inquisitor," he said to her, his voice quiet and cold with formality as he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps it would be best if we returned to the winter palace."

"Seriously, Solas?" Dorian asked, glaring. "You're not really going with that reaction, are you? The least you could do is drop the title, considering."

"I have nothing that needs be said in front of you," Solas snarled at him, speaking through gritted teeth.

Dorian scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "What? Just in front of me? How have I offended you? Oh, maybe it was because I dared suggest you should at least pretend to support her?"

Solas' hands curled into fists as he fought down the desire to turn Dorian into a stone statue. He knew he'd be red-faced and quivering with his rage, but it was mostly borne of humiliation at having what should have been an intimate, private conversation out on display for everyone to see. The Tevinter glowered back at him, his expression daring Solas to make the first move.

"Enough, both of you," Ellana scolded. She wiped at her mouth again, still staring into the void, one hand over her stomach. "We head back to Halamshiral," she said and cleared her throat, grimacing with disgust. "I really need some more ginger."

Zaron, the male sentinel, started to speak: "Fen'Ha—"

"Not now," Solas cut him off, whipping his head in the sentinel's direction and slashing a hand at them, dismissing them without considering how it'd look to the others and Ellana. "Return to Hellathen Hamin and…" He broke off, shaking his head and scowling as he realized he'd slipped into being Fen'Haral the commander, losing the comparatively subservient and humble Solas.

Ellana had straightened completely now and twisted to regard the sentinel elves. Her brow furrowed, eyes leaping between Solas and Mythal's loyal servants. She settled on Solas, her gaze critical. "What did he call you?"

Anger at the humiliating nature of this exchange evaporated, becoming horror that left him sweating and cold. Shame stabbed after it, cutting into his chest like a rogue's blade. He stared down at the black rock of the island, willing himself to ignore their watching, silent companions. "Vhenan," he said, his words ragged. "Please. I will explain everything when we have returned to the winter palace."

The tense silence dragged out as he waited for her decision, aware of Arina and Zaron judging him and seeing weakness. He kept his gaze averted, his mind as empty as he could make it. The conversation he needed to have with Ellana wasn't one he wanted anyone to witness—especially if she turned against him. He'd have to flee or face imprisonment, trial, or perhaps even execution. He deserved it all as Fen'Haral, and Solas might be devastated enough to accept that punishment, if not for the remaining need to restore the People. Only he could lead them to victory by tearing down the Veil. Only he still possessed the power and the knowledge to reshape the world as the last of the Evanuris of Elvhenan.

Finally, just when it seemed the pounding of his own blood in his ears would deafen him, Solas heard Ellana sigh. "All right. Let's get going." After a slight pause she added, "Cassandra, Rainier, Iron Bull. Watch him."

Solas closed his eyes, his stomach seeming to fall to his feet and pass through the stone, careening into the void below. Fenedhis, he thought, clenching his jaw. I've lost her.

Ellana led the way and Dorian hurried after her, shooting Solas a nasty glare as he sauntered past. The warriors in their group stayed, waiting for Solas to start after the Inquisitor. The sentinels had shifted position, putting their weight over one leg and crooking the other. Their posture told Solas they were ready to leave and didn't expect him to flee from the Inquisition, though they had to know he could if he wished.

Weighing the decision for only a heartbeat, Solas followed Ellana over the black rock of the stone bridge between the Revasan island and the one with the Halamshiral eluvian.

As they walked, Cassandra spoke up from behind him. "How did you get past the guards?" The suspicion in her question was raw, making it more of a growl.

Solas stayed silent, staring ahead to where Ellana walked, her Dalish scout armor flopping against her thighs, her bare feet flashing with each step as she jogged over the rock bridge. He would miss her grace and the simple, comfortable joy of waking at her side or meeting her in a dream to show her the power of his mind to reshape the Fade. Bowing his head, he wished he hadn't survived uthenera if only to spare himself the suffering of losing her and continuing on the Dread Wolf's path as a soulless husk of himself.

Because he knew Fen'Haral would survive losing her, but Solas would not. Each new breath seemed to hurt more than the last, as if the invisible knife lodged in his chest kept sinking deeper and twisting.

"You cast a spell back there I've never seen before," Cassandra said. "Where did you learn it?"

Again Solas ignored her question, still watching Ellana and letting the iron grip he had on his mind slip slightly. How could she be with child? Shock left him cold and numb, but he knew better than to doubt it. Honestly, could everyone else be mistaken? He reran the exchange through his mind, realizing Ellana hadn't acknowledged it at all, which probably meant it was true. How long had she known? Had she planned this?

"I don't think he feels like talking, your holiness," Rainier said.

"Well," Iron Bull said from the rear most position. "I feel like talking. I think I've heard Dalish curse using the name the other elves said back there. Fenny-hair something. What does it mean?"

"Damned if I know," Rainier answered with a dry chuckle.

Cassandra added, "The only elven I know is that Solas' name means pride."

Solas gnashed his teeth and remained mute as the rocks they walked over.

As they reached the Halamshiral island and the glowing eluvian there Ellana stopped and stepped off to one side of it. Her green eyes found Solas, her expression pinched with something caught between anguish and fear. Her cheeks were pale and damp with perspiration. Water splattered Solas from the waterfall, making him wince and blink as the retinue halted.

"Dorian, take the lead. Then Solas, then everyone else," she ordered.

She was keeping him sandwiched, under watch by warriors or mages or both. Solas couldn't muster up a frown at the realization and simply sagged as she met his gaze. He lifted his hands, keeping them together at the wrist. "Am I to be bound, vhenan?"

The term of endearment seemed to hit her like a slap, breaking her. She clasped a hand over her lips and looked away from him, sucking in a breath through her fingers. Then, blinking rapidly several times, she said, "No." She motioned at the eluvian. "Never mind. Just…everyone back through the mirror."

Despite her comment that the order no longer mattered Dorian still went in first and then Ellana hesitated, watching him. Her jaw was tight but her brow furrowed and her eyes red-rimmed though tearless. Solas made eye contact, hoping she could somehow see the pain tearing into his chest that made each breath hard to take. When we are alone, he promised her with his eyes and then strode to the eluvian.

On the other side he found Dorian at the door, demanding to know how the guards had let Solas through. The Orlesian men stared, gawking in bafflement.

The eluvian hummed and pulsed as Ellana came through next, also checking on the guards with a quick glance before she said to Solas, "Let me summon my advisors."

"Vhenan," Solas said, shaking his head in consternation. "Please. I would speak with you alone, first." His palms were sweaty, his body cold.

As the eluvian thrummed again, admitting Cassandra through in her obnoxiously golden armor, Ellana stepped clear of it to make room for the others. Solas trailed after her, a silent and solemn shadow as she called to the Orlesians, ordering them to prepare tea with ginger and send it to her chambers.

"I will call Commander Cullen and Leliana," Cassandra volunteered, brushing past Solas to be closer to Ellana. She did not look at or acknowledge him. "And I will—"

"No," Ellana said, shoulders slumping. "That will not be necessary yet." Looking at him, Ellana said, "Will you follow me?"

There was a note of challenge in her voice and Solas wondered whether she was asking him for fealty or just wondering if he would come willingly. He nodded. "Of course, vhenan." He held back the other words pressing against his throat that he would always follow her if she would have him despite his betrayal and his alter ego. The less said in front of Cassandra, Dorian, and the gawking guards the better.

"Good," she said and took off at a brisk pace, making the guards scramble to clear out of her path. Solas marched after her, down the hall. Servants and guards stared at them, gawking as they walked past. It was most likely the armor and their weapons drawing the attention, but Solas couldn't stop the heat that stole over his cheeks realizing that many of them would also be thinking of Ellana's condition, assuming the entire palace was rampant with it. He made eye contact with one Inquisition spy and glared until the other elf averted her stare and headed in the opposite direction on some meaningless errand.

They reached the guest wing, the guards doing a double take as they marched past. Ellana brought him to an enormous room on a corner and opened the door, striding in and immediately moving to a pitcher of water beside the bed. Solas stayed near the door, closing it and then hesitating a moment as he took several long breaths to compose himself and push aside the quiet rage simmering in his blood. Numbness would've been better, he decided. At least then he would not say something he regretted later.

Carrying the porcelain pitcher, Ellana circled around the bed and to the privy. Solas waited until she had disappeared into it and then moved to stand just outside, watching. She stood over a washbasin and scrubbed at her mouth with a finger, then spat into it. After doing the same routine twice she shot him what was almost a sheepish look.

"My throat won't stop burning," she said, as if she needed to explain herself.

"I have some mint," Solas offered and grimaced at how gruff his voice sounded.

"Perhaps after the tea," she said, a wan smile tugging at her lips. The pain in her eyes cut him with shame.

Taking a step toward her and then pausing, fighting the tension in his spine and shoulders, Solas struggled to find a way to start talking in earnest—though exactly what about he wasn't sure. Where to begin when everything was falling apart and spiraling out of his control? Seeing her pallid cheeks, her posture hinting at exhaustion, melted the steel at his core and suddenly he closed the gap between them, taking her in his arms. When she didn't withdraw or push him away but instead laid her head on his chest and let out a shuddering breath, Solas felt the warmth of love surge through him, easily washing away everything else.

Stroking her hair, he asked, "Is it true? Are you…?"

She let out a chuckle, the sound thick with emotion and tears. Sniffling, she turned her head, pressing her forehead to his chest. "I didn't realize until last night. I searched for you…"

Frowning at the flicker of irritation that lashed him, Solas tried to laugh, but it emerged as more of a grunt. "Was it really necessary to tell everyone else?"

She groaned and pushed back from him, her eyes narrowing with annoyance of her own. "I didn't. I consulted Josephine and I…" She turned away from him and shook her head. "And I told Sera. That was it." Jerking her head back toward him, she drilled into him with anger now. "I wanted to tell you, but you weren't here! And then when you were it just didn't seem right with the whole of Southern Thedas under threat."

At her admonishment Solas stared at the giant tub off to his left, feeling his cheeks grow hot with shame. "I am sorry, vhenan." He smiled, dry and humorless and forlorn. "The timing is…"

"Awful," she finished for him and he could hear the frown in the single word.

He searched her face, his lips compressing into a thin line as new, troubling thoughts invaded his mind. Her reaction left him no doubt she had not planned this child, but did she not want it? There were potions he'd heard of in his time at Arlathan that could empty a woman's womb. It'd been a common enough practice in Elvhenan among the nobility as their immortality ensured there were always too many being born and too few leaving the world. How ironic that circumstances had changed so dramatically that now the elven people, both the ancients from uthenera and the modern alike, would abhor the thought of destroying a pureblooded child.

Licking his lips, he opened his mouth to ask her what she felt and express these thoughts—only to snap his jaw shut and sigh with frustration. What right did he have fording into that topic when soon she might turn him away as the traitor he was to both the People and to the Inquisition? He could not carry the child, could not bring it to life or care for it in her place. If she no longer wanted him at her side, how could he ask her to keep his child?

"Solas?" she asked, a worried frown contorting her face. Her chin wrinkled as she struggled to contain her emotions. "Say something, please."

"I have no right," he blurted.

She shook her head, confused. "What?"

Something within his chest felt as though it was both freezing and burning at the same time and swelling inside. He blinked, his eyes feeling hot, but refused to look away from her. "Ar lath ma, vhenan. Forever." He sucked in a quavering breath. "But you should know who and what I truly am. Before I hurt you any further. You deserve the truth."

Her lip trembled as she stared at him, the pain in her eyes as excruciating to him as glass shards driven beneath his fingernails. Cupping her cheek with one hand, he stroked his thumb over her lips, hoping to stop their quivering. "Who are you?" she breathed.

"I am Fen'Haral." He swallowed, hardly able to form the words. "I am the Dread Wolf."

The words impacted Ellana and strangely she felt nothing at first. Then her thoughts seemed to slow, growing thick with confusion. For a moment her lips curled in a grin and then down into a frown. She shook her head, eyelids fluttering as a wave of vertigo passed through her. He was watching her, waiting for a reaction. She remembered meeting "Mythal" well enough and decided that must be what he meant, somehow. "What? How is that possible? Are you a vessel? Like Flemeth?"

"No," Solas admitted, whispering. "I passed the ages in the deep sleep of uthenera. I visited your people in dreams, trying to guide them." The bleakness in his gaze hardened briefly with something like anger. "But I could not help them as they would not listen to me."

A deadly stillness had begun to spread through her as this strange new reality continued. Why hadn't he laughed and revealed this as a prank? Or perhaps she was dreaming and this wasn't Solas at all, just a spirit in the Fade spinning a wild, unbelievable—and downright horrifying—story.

She remembered the sentinel asking, Where's Fen'Haral? Suddenly she felt nauseous again and tore free of Solas' embrace, hands lifted to ward him away as she shook her head. "Solas, please tell me you're joking. You cannot possibly be the Dread Wolf. It's…not possible."

Pain darkened his eyes and his shoulders hunched. "I'm sorry, vhenan. I wish I had told you years ago, but I was selfish. I feared losing you once you knew the truth."

Her knees had gone shaky. "There's more isn't there?" she asked and let out an involuntary whimper as he nodded, his expression grave. She laughed, dry and brittle. "Oh, good. At least I saw that coming."

He flinched but didn't back down or hesitate. "Do you recall the night I took you to Crestwood? When I removed your vallaslin?" He didn't wait for her to answer but plunged onward. "I planned to tell you everything then, but I could not bring myself to cause you pain. Your people are not wrong about me. I have made many mistakes, but I have always fought for the People. I will always fight for them…"

Laying one hand over the weight in her abdomen she tried to keep herself from quaking as new connections snapped together in her mind. All of the ancient memories he possessed, his deep love of the Fade that was so opposed to Chantry rhetoric, the elven language that flowed so fluently from his lips despite him being non-Dalish…this news connected it all. The weight of it slammed into her like a fist.

"Mythal's mercy," she whispered more to herself than to Solas. "I've been sharing my bed with a god." I'm carrying the Dread Wolf's child… Her heartbeat boomed inside her skull like a drum.

Solas' mouth twisted into something neither frown nor smile. "I am as mortal as you, just as Mythal and Elgar'nan and all the rest of the Evanuris were mortal. They were but mages with extraordinary talent and skill—leaders and victors in a bitter civil war." His lips curled, his nose wrinkling with rage as he went on. "And when it was over they were elevated as gods. They enslaved thousands, killed hundreds for sport alone."

"My people's legends say Fen'Haral sealed them away…" Ellana breathed, fighting to concentrate as the world seemed to tip around her, everything she'd thought she knew imploding.

"I did," Solas said, the rage draining from his face, leaving only despair as a dark shadow in his blue eyes. "After they killed Mythal. She was the best of them, the only one who truly cared about her people. Once she was gone I had no choice. The Evanuris would have destroyed everything." He broke off, closing his eyes and drooping his head. "Or so I believed."

She shook her head, confused. "But how did you seal them away? My people's legends say Elvhenan fell because our gods could no longer walk among us. If they were false gods, how did sealing them away destroy the People?"

Solas gave a bitter laugh, anger returning to his features. "Because to seal them away I sundered our people from the Fade and that destroyed them."

Ellana blinked, staring at him as her brow furrowed, trying to understand. "But we are still connected to the Fade. We aren't dreamless like the dwarves."

"Vhenan," Solas said, his red-rimmed gaze flicking over her. "The Fade and the waking world were once the same. This world you were born into is a travesty—a shadow of what it should be. In Elvhenan every elf was a mage and we did not age. Everything we did, or built, or recorded was done using magic. When I woke into this age, it was agony. It was like being made Tranquil. The most powerful mages of this world would be considered weak in Elvhenan. Dorian and Vivienne would be among the servant class at best."

She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again, speechless.

Seeing her reaction, Solas sighed and covered his face with one hand. "I am sorry, vhenan. I know this is…"

"But the Veil," Ellana interrupted. "Are you saying the Veil didn't exist?"

He stared down at the floor, crestfallen. "I created it to lock away the Evanuris."

"You created it," Ellana repeated and stumbled back from him as the world spun around her again. "Creators have mercy…" She caught herself on the tub as Solas reached out to steady her, then pulled free of his gentle grip. She backpedaled further away to get out of his reach, unable to look at him directly. "I cannot believe what I'm hearing," she said, the words tiny and frail. Her stomach clenched and something in her chest burned with stabbing pain. "I think I may vomit again."

Solas had frozen where he stood when she'd rejected his touch but at her comment he stepped clear of the room, but only long enough to fetch a chamber pot. She watched him, breathing as deeply as she could through the pain in her chest, swallowing bile. The devastation and grief in his face twisted the ache in her chest. But the tenderness and concern she saw beneath his misery started the familiar warmth of love spreading through her. His tiny act of caring in the midst of this dark and terrible confession made it impossible to see anyone but Solas, the man she'd shared her life with now for three years, who'd saved her life in Haven and fought with her to close the Breach and kill Corypheus.

And though he'd lied to her, hiding the truth, she found herself wanting to embrace him, to try and ease the grief she saw in him now. How many times had she sought out his wisdom and heeded his counsel? He'd stayed with her when even Dorian had left, and she'd assumed it was because they were lovers and he had nowhere else to be. But now she realized how wrong she'd been and how hard Solas must've worked to remain at her side despite the danger. Already she could see the weight of responsibility couched on his shoulders and sensed there had to be more he wasn't telling her. The thought made her want to sob with dread, but simultaneously she knew she didn't care what he'd been or what he'd done. How could it change who he was to her really?

Her heart ached anew as she tried to imagine the stress he'd weathered all this time, carrying the weight of his secret past.

As he extended the chamber pot out to her like a gift she made eye contact with him and suddenly found herself laughing, though it had a choking, hysterical sound to it.

He winced and moved to the nearest counter, setting the chamber pot on it. "Vhenan? Are you well?"

"No," she said, shaking her head as tears abruptly filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. "No, I'm really not."

He stared at her, his expression stricken.

Ellana went on before he could speak. "I've just found out my lover is the trickster god my Keeper always warned me about." She laughed again but cut it off with a choke as she wiped at the tears careening down her cheeks. "And now I'm carrying his child."

"I did not mean for this to happen," he said, his voice deep and rough with emotion. He stared off at the wall behind her, his gray eyes unfocused. "You cannot imagine how often I have wished I truly were merely Solas. Do you know how devastating it is to be remembered as a monster by the very people you spent your whole life fighting to save?"

"No, I don't," she whispered, the words trembling. "But one day Orlais and Ferelden could hate me too." She chuckled thickly through her tears. "Maybe they'll hate me as soon as tomorrow for adjourning the summit."

"It is not the same," he shot back with heat, glaring in her direction now. "Do not make light of it. I destroyed Elvhenan. And the only way to set it right is to tear down the Veil. But doing so would all but destroy your world, Ellana." His eyes drilled into her, daring her to find a shred of humor in the situation now.

"You would destroy this world?" Ellana asked, almost breathless.

"To restore the People," he told her, clenching his jaw. "Yes." His eyes were bright with moisture. "I did not see this world or its inhabitants as real at first. But then I met you and once I joined the Inquisition I learned how wrong I was." Shame clouded his features and he turned his head to avoid her stare. "And yet I have not stopped searching for a way to do it. Can you look at me and tell me now that you do not see a monster? A trickster? Harellan?"

"You would sacrifice everything in this world? You would let me die as well?" Ellana asked, waves of hot and cold washing over her. A little sob caught in her throat as she glared at him, her heart in her throat. "I don't believe you."

"Fen'Haral would let you die," Solas told her. His chin wrinkled, lips twisting.

"And Solas?" she asked, gritting her teeth and flicking her tears away. "What of the man I've loved for three years?"

"Ar lath ma," he whispered, eyes closing.

"That's not an answer," she said, her body shaking. She wrapped her arms around herself. "Solas, you are part of this world. Part of my world. You helped save it from Corypheus. How could you choose to destroy it? To let me die?"

He didn't look at her. Shoulders hunched and grief written over his face, he merely shook his head. "Don't you see that whatever choice I make, as Fen'Haral or as Solas, I can never redeem myself? If I give up now the People will perish. We will die, snuffed out like candles by the humans' breath, but it was I who dealt the deathblow. And if I sacrifice you and this world..." When he at last opened his eyes, Ellana saw tears glistening. His throat worked as he swallowed. "I will always die a monster. Harellan. Alone."

Her heart beating against her breastbone, Ellana suddenly lunged for him, taking his face in her hands and staring up into his blue gray eyes. "There must be another way. You are not a monster. Not now and not in the past, emma lath. Let me help you."

A tear rolled down his cheek as he gazed at her, brow furrowed in something like consternation. "Help me? Vhenan, you do not understand what you ask…"

"Nothing you say will make me leave you," she insisted, brushing her thumb over the tear to wipe it away. "You are not a monster, Solas. You cannot blame yourself for the fall of Elvhenan, but if there's a way to bring down the Veil and restore our people that won't kill us all…" She smiled, wan and trembling as fresh tears leapt to her eyes. "Of course I want to help."

His eyes crinkled with anguish. "And if we cannot find a way to restore the world without destroying it?"

Drawing in a shaky breath, Ellana dropped her right hand down and clasped one of his hands, squeezing it and drawing it to rest over her abdomen. "Then we reshape this world. We make a future for our child."

The tears glimmering in her green eyes made him think of the Fade, of the beauty and wonders that he'd robbed his people of when he created the Veil. Yet now he didn't think of the People abstractly—he envisioned Ellana, representing them all. Guilt tore at his flesh, as sharp as a blade. He wanted to believe her, to let go and embrace the rising longing inside himself, to accept the beauty of her offer, which was so generous it'd left him speechless for the moment.

But the weight of history clawed at his conscience. Elves had established a homeland before in the vain hope of rebuilding their lost empire and regaining their immortality, but with the Veil in place that could never happen. Eventually the humans, with their far greater numbers, would destroy it. But with the Veil gone the elves would reconnect with the Fade, accessing the fullness of magic that their Elvhenan ancestors had possessed. They'd naturally outstrip the humans using magic. War would follow, but Solas knew the elves would emerge undefeated in spite of their fewer numbers. Magic would win them what good deeds and politicking and rebellions never could: freedom.

A half-sob, half-choking noise escaped Solas' throat. He brought his other hand to the nape of her neck and leaned close to press his forehead to hers. "We would fail," he said, voice cracking. "Just as the promise of the Dales did."

"You don't know that," she said, squeezing his hand over her abdomen. "Would you really deny our child a chance to live?"

Solas' gaze flicked over her face, searching her, forgetting to breathe. Before he could stop himself he wondered if their child would have its mother's eyes, or perhaps his own hair color. What kind of spirit would it be? Brash and prideful and curious? Elegant and funny and courageous? Would it be born a Dreamer like him?

Something hot and needy curled inside him, pressing against his throat and setting his limbs shaking. He gave in, letting the thoughts spill out of him, shoulders heaving with each breath. "No," he murmured. "I would see it live. I would see our child ageless and eternal, free to seek knowledge and ask questions, to explore." He let out a sad laugh, his lips and his breath tickling her cheek and then her nose. "I would see our child grow, and I would teach it everything I know."

"Then let me help you," Ellana pleaded.

Another sobbing noise tore its way from Solas' lips as the emotion inside him seemed to break loose, shifting and giving way. He wrapped his arms around Ellana, crushing her to him and stroking her hair with shaking hands. She let out a breath, warm against his neck.

"I do not deserve your devotion," he whispered hoarsely.

"Ar lath ma, Solas," she whispered back, nuzzling his ear. "My love is unconditional."

He inhaled a trembling breath, his body quaking even more and hot tears pressing against his eyelids again. "For you, vhenan, for our child—I will try anything." Pulling away, he kissed her, quick but deep and needy and passionate. When the kiss broke, both of them breathing ragged with emotion, Solas held her cheeks cupped in his palms and stared into her green eyes. "There is still more to tell you, but there will be time."

She clasped his hands on her cheeks, her gaze darkening with gloom. "Promise me one thing."

"Anything, if it is within my power," Solas whispered, but he frowned as he said the words, worrying what she would ask.

A weak smile spread over her lips. "No more secrets. No more half-truths." Her eyelids fluttered shut. "Please."

He smiled, pressing his forehead to hers again. "Ma nuvenin, vhenan."

A thumping noise drifted in from the other room as someone knocked on Ellana's closed door. For a few heartbeats they ignored it, still holding each other, lingering in the moment of peace before the outside world could intrude on it. Then, as the knock came again, louder this time, Ellana shifted and Solas drew back from her.

"I suspect that will be my tea. And maybe dinner," she said, smiling wearily.

Solas nodded, briefly considering whether he should warn her about the servants in the winter palace and then, remembering his promise, immediately cleared his throat and spoke. "You must be wary, Ellana. Many of the servants in the palace are Qunari spies."

Her lips parted, her eyes widening with surprise. "Qunari spies?"

"Yes." He hesitated another second and then dropped his gaze to the floor, committing to the promise again for the second time in just the last minute. "And the Inquisition has been infiltrated by them as well. I know more of the spies there than I do in the palace. I can help you find them."

"And you know this how, exactly?" Ellana asked, her voice soft and breathy with shock.

Solas smiled humorlessly. "Through my own spy network."

"This is why you didn't want to come here," she murmured aloud. "And why you told me to disband the Inquisition."

He raised his head, meeting her stare with a sad smile. "You are as clever as you are beautiful, vhenan."

Anger flashed briefly over her features, darkening them. "You should have told me."

Closing his eyes, fighting away the stab of regret beating inside his head, Solas said, "I know."

The knock pounded even louder from the other room and this time Josephine's voice accompanied it. "Inquisitor! Lady Lavellan? I have your tea. Are you…all right?"

Another familiar female voice—Cassandra—called out with a note of anger and fear. "Inquisitor! Please, you must let us in."

"I think I'd better answer that," Ellana said with a crooked smile. "Or Divine Victoria may declare an Exalted March on my bedchambers." She sobered, still staring at him. "What will you tell my advisors? Our friends?"

He tensed, his brow furrowing as he thought quickly. "They would not understand, vhenan. Restoring the world would return the People to power with magic. They fear the Fade and they would never choose to cede power to the People. They would oppose our plans."

She looked as though she might be sick again, one hand going to rest over her stomach as she paled. "You don't know that," she whispered, eyes closing.

"I do," he muttered, scowling at the unhappy truth of it and the way it affected her. "As do you." Grief lodged a lump in his throat, making it difficult for him to swallow. He had grown to respect and care for their companions as real people whose suffering mattered, but those emotions could never be allowed to stand in the way of empowering the People and fixing the world.

"Inquisitor!" Cassandra yelled.

Ellana shot him an unhappy look. "We will discuss this later. I have more questions…" Her eyes narrowed, stabbing at him like needles as he saw both sorrow and anger in her expression. "Fen'Haral."

He looked away, grimacing. "Please, vhenan. I am just Solas. Let me remain Solas with you."

"Solas, then," she said with a solemn nod. "I won't reveal you." Thrusting her shoulders back and holding her head up, Ellana strode past him, but paused in the doorway. Reaching for his hand, she squeezed it in silent solidarity, her palms as sweaty as his own. Then she left the privy, heading for the door.

Watching her go, Solas let out a shuddering breath and slumped backwards into the enormous porcelain tub behind him. Scrubbing at his face, slimy with perspiration, he tried to bring his shaking under control. Conflicting concerns and emotions battered him from within, twisting his heart into knots that seemed to tighten with each beat. He had told her the truth—or most of it, anyway—and she had not turned on him. If she had, Solas knew he wouldn't have blamed her. But Ellana still didn't know of his role in the Breach, or that the Anchor on her hand would one day kill her if he didn't amputate it.

Her devotion and optimism made him ache, longing for her dream of a peaceful resolution to be true. Yet he could not see any way to restore the world without sacrifice and conflict. Whether that was merely his own death as penance, or the destruction of humanity and the other races of Thedas aside from the People, he wasn't certain yet. Putting up the Veil had nearly killed him so long ago as the shock of it sent him into uthenera. Taking it down might be easier, but reshaping reality as the chaos raged around him…

Din'anshiral. Walking the path of restoration would prove deadly, the punishment he'd long deserved for what he'd done to the People. Fen'Haral was content with such sacrifice, but Solas thought of Ellana and the unborn child she carried and felt nothing but enraged despair that he might not live long enough to influence its life.

His hands clenched into fists and his breathing became choked, tearless sobs for a few moments as he pushed aside those thoughts. Ellana was greeting Cassandra and Josephine in the other room, reassuring them that everything was fine. He needed to appear as though his world wasn't shattering.

For now, he thought, pressing his thumbs to his eyes as the wave of despair passed. I must not lose hope—for her sake.

Next Chapter will be NSFW!

She smiled weakly and shook her head, sending ripples through the bath. "I was just realizing I hardly know anything about you."

His heart twisted with a cutting pain, as if she'd stabbed him. Clenching his jaw and drawing in a quiet breath, he said, "You have but to ask, vhenan."