A/N: This chapter is NSFW! So if you don't like reading smut, well, skip to the very end and check out the preview for next chapter! I will update twice a week now, I think. Probably Tuesdays and Fridays. Also, thank you to my reviewers and followers! I hope to continue to please!

Seven

He Who Bathes Alone

"Those are definitely gaatlok barrels, Boss," Iron Bull said and let out a deep-throated growl. "What are they doing here?"

Ellana stared at the barrels, her arms crossed over her chest and her face set in an angry, frustrated snarl. "The more important question is who brought them here." Fortunately she already knew the answer to that, as bad as it was: Qunari spies working within the Inquisition.

It was well after dark outside the tavern. A few lanterns hung from the roof's overhang, casting a yellow-orange glow over the barrels and crates that'd been moved into this position by servants within the palace. Inquisition soldiers stood in a hard line around the tavern, blocking it off. Orlesian nobles and guards glared from a distance at the Inquisition's takeover, unaware that the explosive gaatlok had infiltrated Halamshiral right under their noses.

Because the Inquisition had betrayed them.

"I will deal with this, Inquisitor," Leliana said, her expression angry. She shook her head, lips curling with disgust. "I cannot believe how close we came to disaster. I should have seen this coming."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Red," Iron Bull said. "You're up against Ben-Hassrath."

"And I am the Inquisition's spymaster," she reminded him, glaring. "There is no excuse."

"Take the barrels into custody," Ellana ordered, motioning with one hand. "We'll keep this quiet and study the powder."

Iron Bull motioned with his hands up, palms out, signaling caution. "Have your people be careful, Boss. This stuff is dangerous." He made a face. "In fact, maybe you should back up a bit. And don't stand anywhere near while they handle it."

"You know the most about it, Iron Bull," Ellana said. "Would you help our soldiers move it?"

He nodded, though he looked wary. "I'll do what I can."

"Inquisitor," Leliana said. "Might I have a word?" She gestured away from the tavern. Nodding, Ellana followed as the spymaster led her around the corner, out of sight and earshot of the Inquisition soldiers, Iron Bull, and any Orlesian nobility, guards, or servants. Once they were in a secure spot Leliana edged close to her, speaking quietly. "I have already sent messages to my foreign contacts. We must find out the extent of this Dragon's Breath for ourselves."

Ellana kept her posture and her expression as neutral as she could. "You don't trust Solas?"

Leliana hesitated a heartbeat, remorse clouding her features. "My instincts tell me he is being less than truthful with us." She jerked her chin in the direction of the tavern. "Of course I appreciate him directing us to this and alerting us to the Qunari spies in our ranks, but that does not explain how he knew of it." Sympathy furrowed her brow as she laid a hand on Ellana's arm. "I am sorry. I cannot imagine how difficult all this is for you."

Ellana nodded, chewing her lip and evading the spymaster's probing stare. Less than an hour ago Solas had stood in front of her advisors and Cassandra to explain his involvement in the Crossroads and the Qunari plot. Some of what he'd revealed had been new to Ellana as well, such as Solas' claim that the Qunari were frantically collecting and cataloguing magical items and artifacts in an ironic quest to save Thedas from magic. That had been how they stumbled into the eluvian network and encountered the sentinel elves—which he now admitted to leading as their spymaster. The plan was called Dragon's Breath and included killing Ellana, Empress Celene, and Divine Victoria in a single gaatlok attack on the winter palace during the Exalted Council. Naturally, Solas had come forward to ask for their help in stopping it.

He had not, however, revealed to the humans his true identity as the Dread Wolf and Ellana followed his lead, as much as it made her feel sick to hide it. Solas will come around, she reassured herself and tried to believe it.

"Whatever he's holding back," she told Leliana, "I trust him." The words made her want to laugh as she imagined how horrified her Keeper would be to hear her utter such a sentiment. The Dalish even had a phrase to describe foolish life choices: Fen'Harel ma ghilana. It translated out as, 'The Dread Wolf guides you.'

Well, the Dread Wolf had been guiding her for years now.

"Of course," Leliana said, the sympathy in her face softening her. "But it's obvious to me it is not just the Qunari with spies in our ranks." Her pale blue eyes flicked over Ellana, scrutinizing her carefully. "He's told you more than he has told us," she said, reading the truth with a coy little smile. "Is this some kind of elven uprising?"

"We can trust Solas," Ellana repeated, her voice hard and firm. Both of them knew she had deliberately not answered Leliana's question.

Leliana arched an eyebrow, irritation flashing in her eyes. "If that is true, Inquisitor, why did he hide this from you? Why did he hide it from me when he first joined? I would have welcomed an elven spymaster. I've supported efforts in the past to improve the lives of elves and mages alike. Instead he remained separate and infiltrated our forces with spies of his own." She made a noise in her throat and turned away from Ellana, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I have no right to be angry with you, or him—only myself. I should have suspected."

With Leliana no longer watching her, Ellana allowed herself to frown. You could not have seen this coming, she thought, wishing she could console the spymaster. Instead she said, "I trust Solas to tell us what we need to know in time."

"I hope you are right, Inquisitor," Leliana answered, doubt unmistakable in her voice. She glanced over her shoulder at Ellana and nodded once. "I must send out some letters. If you'll excuse me."

Ellana watched the spymaster leave as Solas' words echoed in her mind: They would not understand, vhenan. Her heart twisted and she groaned to herself, wishing she didn't believe him, but the Dalish remembered the way humanity had betrayed them. Elvhenan might not have crumbled because of humans the way history believed, but the Dales certainly had.

Fatigue dragged at her shoulders, making the weight resting in her abdomen feel even heavier. With an effort she kept her back straight and marched out of the courtyard, heading for the guest wing and a long-awaited date with her enormous bed, or maybe she'd try out that tub if she had the energy. Hopefully her bed wouldn't be empty tonight either.

The last she'd seen of Solas he'd accompanied Commander Cullen to identify and apprehend the Qunari spies within their ranks. The murderous fury on Cullen's face that evening had made her ready to cringe with sympathy for the spies. And maybe for Solas too. Cullen looked ready to strangle him during the meeting with all of her advisors. Ellana couldn't imagine how enraged the commander would be if he knew as much as she did about Solas.

He will come round, she promised herself again. We'll find a way to fix this.

Crossing the courtyard after finishing supplying Commander Cullen with the names of the Qunari spies he knew of within the Inquisition, Solas noticed the way Inquisition soldiers and sentries kept watch on him. It was subtle: a flick of their eyes as they watched him walk or the slight stiffening in their postures when he neared. As he reached the stairs leading into the palace he noted a sentry following him, carrying a note and seemingly focused on her own, separate mission.

He smiled to himself. It's about time you had me followed, Leliana.

Solas knew that in revealing himself even partially to Ellana's advisors he'd humiliated the spymaster and she'd be as flustered as one of her ravens discovering it'd had its wings clipped. She now knew she'd been played, housing another "spymaster" unknowingly for three years. He wished he could reassure her that she'd done a passable job for the Inquisition, that she had never had any hope of uncovering who and what he really was because the clues were thousands of years old.

But he did feel mildly disappointed that it'd taken her this long to have him watched. Then again, he suspected his three years of loyal service and the fact that he was Ellana's lover had made her hesitant. Still, it was sloppy.

Of course Leliana could not follow him into the Fade, and that was where Solas did much of his most secretive communication. The benefits of being a Dreamer never disappointed in this world of Tranquil, all of them terrified of the Fade and its mysteries. It was like being the only person who could swim in a fishermen's village. Only the uneducated need fear the waters while a swimmer could play and dive to recover forgotten relics and riches.

To the right of the main landing in front of the palace gates Solas saw Vivienne chatting with a masked nobleman. He quickened his pace, eager to pass her without being noticed—but he'd had absolutely rotten luck most of the day so he wasn't the least bit surprised when she called out, "Solas, dear!"

He halted and turned to regard her as she walked daintily in his direction, a warm smile on her lips and cold, cruel delight burning in her eyes. He'd seen enough smugness in Arlathan's courtly Game to recognize it in the Orlesian mockery of Elvhen subterfuge. In Solas' day even dreams weren't safe from the Game.

"Enchanter," he greeted her, forcing his own feigned smile onto his lips. "What a pleasant but unexpected surprise. Did they forget to lock the door to your Circle's tower? How embarrassing."

She laughed a moment, finishing with a slight sigh as she stopped in front of him, one hand on her hip. "I've been meaning to catch up with you, my dear. There have been some truly dreadful rumors circulating."

Solas let out a little huff of irritation before he could stop himself. Not this again. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that the sentry tailing him had taken up a position standing beside the stairs with her back to him, as if on watch. Sloppy indeed, Leliana, he thought. The sentry should have continued inside and waited there, or better still there should be a tag-team of watchers dedicated to tracking his whereabouts.

To the Enchanter he smiled benignly. "Yes, I've heard quite the gossip since arriving. My favorite tale, however, is an older one—about how the Chantry clerics very briefly entertained nominating a mage to become Divine. Can you imagine?" He tilted his head, allowing himself a broader smile as he saw the words impact Vivienne, making her mask slip away as she scowled.

He made a clucking noise with his tongue, as if disappointed. "Sadly I heard the clerics were quick to discount the mage. Apparently her political machinations were rather poorly executed and the clerics saw them as little more than feeble attempts to wrest power for herself." He shook his head, feigning sadness. "Most unfortunate."

Vivienne's nostrils flared with her rage and Solas didn't miss the tension in the air, the prickling energy of offensive magic just at the Enchanter's fingertips. Long seconds passed before she drew in a deep breath and the cold smile returned to her lips. "I heard you were away yesterday, apostate."

"Yes," Solas agreed. "The Exalted Council has kept me very busy, as has my work for the Inquisition."

"A pity," Vivienne said, her lip curling with disdain for a moment before she smiled again. The cruel humor had returned to her eyes and Solas knew that meant she was about to strike with her verbal attack. "Had you been here you might have been able to congratulate our dear Lady Lavellan on her wonderful—if a bit unexpected—news."

The way she stared at him expectantly told Solas she believed he didn't know of Ellana's pregnancy. He wanted to grin, to show the strange joy and pride that'd begun building within him at the news, but he held the reaction in check. Instead he revealed only a glimmer of that emotion to let Vivienne see that he already knew. "Yes, I do wish I could have been here. But it is a private matter between myself and—"

"Oh," Vivienne interrupted him, the malicious humor in her eyes harder now. "But how awkward for you that the court is simply abuzz with such slander." She shook her head, a mock look of sympathy contorting her features. "To think that any of these fools would believe the Inquisitor could leave you for Commander Cullen. Or that he could be the one to have put her in such a delicate condition."

Solas had paused, blinking as she spoke. The memory of the Orlesian guards outside the storage room returned to his mind along with the noblewomen's breathless gossip about Ellana sleeping with Cullen. Knowing Vivienne had meant to humiliate or enrage him, Solas quashed his initial reaction of irritation and instead grinned at her and laughed.

Vivienne glared at him for a second before the polite mask covered her features again. "Whatever is so funny, apostate?"

"Did you think to trouble me with such petty gossip, Enchanter? Halamshiral would be rife with such rumors regardless." He nodded to her, still grinning as he thought: But thank you for showing your hand, Enchanter. He would warn Josephine, Leliana, and Ellana that Vivienne could no longer be trusted.

"Now," Solas said with a dip of his head. "I must take my leave, but it has been a pleasure as always, Enchanter."

Vivienne sniffed, her nose wrinkling as if she'd smelled something foul. "Apostate."

Solas took off for the palace gate again, passing through with barely a glance from the two bored guards on duty. Behind him Solas heard Leliana's spy resume her mission, tailing him through the palace foyer and to the guest wing. The sentry didn't follow him inside but must have stopped to make small talk with the guards outside to wait and see if he reemerged. She'd be bored soon enough because Solas had no intention of leaving before the morning unless Ellana turned him away.

At her chamber he raised one fist to knock but the door opened before he could and he found himself almost eye-to-eye with Lanya, his winter palace head spy. Careful to control his expression, Solas smiled politely. "Greetings. Is the Inquisitor accepting visitors?"

Lanya's eyes narrowed. "Lady Lavellan is indisposed."

He raised his eyebrows, unable to mask his concern. "Is she well?"

"Yes," Lanya answered and then explained. "She's in the bath…sir."

The thought made his body flush with the heat of desire, though he gave no indication of it as he nodded. The tightness in Lanya's face told him she'd likely heard the gossip about the pregnancy. There was little point pretending he wasn't at her door for personal reasons. With a servant that wasn't his spy this would be far less awkward. "Please ask if she would see me…" he paused a moment and then cleared his throat, adding, "When she is finished, of course."

"Of course." Lanya smirked and Solas didn't miss her double meaning. They both knew he wouldn't be waiting in her room and Lanya would shortly find herself kicked out.

Lanya closed the door and Solas heard her tread retreating deeper into the room, but he couldn't quite make out the murmur of conversation. But only a few seconds later Lanya opened the door wide for him. "Lady Lavellan will see you," she said and then, as he stepped past her, she whispered, "Fen'Harel, lasa ghilan."

She was looking for guidance, for new orders. Solas hesitated, thinking before he answered, "Theneras."

Pinching her lips together, Lanya nodded and left the room. She knew he would meet her in the Fade and commune with her there. Solas knew he needed to warn her and his other spies in the waking world that he was now under watch and the Inquisition spymaster would be combing through the ranks, seeking them. Unlike the Qunari, who could be any race, Solas' spies were exclusively elven. The Inquisition had plenty of elves within its ranks, drawn to the organization because of Ellana's race and her deeds, and many were not Solas' spies. Yet plenty were and it was an unfortunate and unavoidable weakness of his network. Leliana would naturally suspect all elven recruits now, but most likely those with bare faces who she'd assume would be city elves when really they were Elvhen.

Closing the door and emptying his mind, Solas strode to the shuttered doorway of Ellana's bath and leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. "Vhenan?" he called softly.

He heard the gentle splash of water. "I asked the servant to leave," she said from within. "Has she gone?"

"Yes," Solas answered. He could smell the faint fragrance wafting through the slightly ajar door and let his eyes drift shut.

"Then why are you waiting out there?" she asked, and he picked out a note of teasing in the words that sent his heart hammering though he tried to quell it. He had no right to expect intimacy from her after his betrayal as much as he might long for it.

"I did not wish to intrude or…" He frowned, searching for the right way to phrase it.

"This bath is bigger than some of the aravels in my clan," she said, interrupting him. "I think it's meant to be shared. Besides, we weren't finished talking earlier. So, come in."

With her encouragement, Solas opened the door, blinking as he stepped into the smaller room and found it warm and humid. Ellana was submerged in water up to her shoulders, frothy bubbles floating around the edges of the tub and masking some of her body. Her head reclined at the edge of the tub, her hair loose and soaked, plastered against the porcelain until she raised her head and smiled at him. The expression had an edge of uncertainty to it, her green eyes narrowed slightly as she looked over him. Despite her jovialness inviting him into the intimate space she wasn't entirely at ease, exactly as Solas had expected.

He swallowed, finding his mouth dry and his throat tight as different emotions warred inside him—desire and love, shame and anxiety. He managed a weak smile in answer to hers. "What would you like to know?"

"Is my servant a spy?" she asked.

He uncrossed his arms, trying to ease the tension in his spine and using the motion to evade her penetrating gaze. "Yes."

"One of yours or Qunari?" she asked.

He looked at her now. "Mine. I wanted you protected." He hesitated a moment and then revealed, "I have a chain of spies in place in the kitchens as well. I feared the Qunari or any one of our other enemies might try poison."

"You're very thorough," she said, the admiration and affection in her voice and her gaze impossible to miss.

Solas chuckled and glanced away again, taking in the small tray of bath oils and soaps on the counter across from the tub. His arrival had disrupted Lanya's administrations and pampering. Solas had chosen her for Ellana specifically for her softhearted nature and because of her compassion. Before uthenera she had been a middle class artist who joined him hoping to make a difference for their people, fighting for freedom. It was Lanya who'd designed the murals and many of the statues around Revasan, the sanctuary for freed slaves. With the Veil in place she lacked enough connection to the Fade to be a mage, making her ideal as a spy.

"Was poison common in Elvhenan?" she asked, splashing slightly as she moved.

"No," Solas admitted and frowned as he struggled with his instinct to remain vague and unclear, always hiding his past. "The goal of poison is to mask assassination as deadly illness. Immortal beings who know no disease cannot hope to use poison in such a manner. It would be obvious that poison was used."

"Immortality," she murmured, her voice somehow managing to be both sad and awed. Sighing, she leaned her head back against the tub. "Do I really want to know how old you truly are?"

He laughed again, grinning at her. "No, vhenan, you would not. But I was still considered a youth at Arlathan and one of the youngest of the Evanuris." The humor drained from him then as he saw her somber expression. "I'm sorry. I suppose this must still be difficult to hear. I did not mean to trouble you."

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."

"All right," she said and sat up, exposing her breasts out of the water and drawing his gaze before he averted his eyes again, ashamed of his own baser reaction during this tense moment. She drew her knees up, hugging them to her chest. "Tell me about your family. I've never heard you mention parents or siblings. How did the Dread Wolf become such a loner?"

He closed his eyes, drawing out the faraway memories and trying to keep his emotions in check. "I did not lie when I told you I was born in a remote village with little to entertain me as a child." He brushed one hand idly along his other bicep, recalling his mother's caress, her smile. The sound of his father's rich voice speaking in elven seemed to caress his ears. Clinging to those memories, and restraining the less pleasant ones beneath them, he said, "I could not tell you of my past without revealing my origins. Much of my childhood was shaped by a world that no longer exists. It will be difficult to grasp, even now."

"Try me," she said, the water sloshing as she shifted in the enormous tub.

He smiled, but knew it would come across more as a grimace. "Very well. My parents were middle class, with merely average magical talent. My father served as a…" He frowned, struggling to find the correct term. "An archivist within one of many interconnected Elvhen libraries." He paused, realizing he had to explain that this wasn't a physical place within the waking world. "The library was a construct, much like the Crossroads."

"And your mother?" Ellana asked.

"My mother managed the crops in our village." He laughed at her surprised look. "Elvhenan was not without the need for food, vhenan. Far from it, in fact. Even then we could not subsist from magic alone—save some in the deep sleep of uthenera. Magic aided in the harvests and in growing the crops, but there remained plenty of toiling work to be done. The nobility and Evanuris ruled over vast wilderness with many farming communities like my village. They collected tithes from us in the form of food."

"That doesn't sound all that different from the way Thedas operates now," Ellana commented. "Except that magic was more widespread." She was silent a moment, her expression pensive. "There were no non-mages? None at all?"

"None," he confirmed with a nod and then dropped his gaze to the floor. "And the Fade was part of the waking world. But you would never have mistaken Elvhenan for Ferelden or Orlais or even Tevinter." He felt the old rage rise in his blood, hot and roiling inside. "We used slaves, and not as they do in Tevinter. The Evanuris bound thousands with vallaslin and in those days they used blood in the marks. It was blood magic. It stripped those branded by the marks of any free thought or passion."

"It was blood magic?" Ellana asked, her voice breathy with horror. He heard her move in the tub and when he looked saw her touching her forehead where her own vallaslin had once been. "Fenedhis."

"Blood writing," he whispered, the literal translation of vallaslin. "Yes. I do not know how the ink is made now, but in the days of Elvhenan the Evanuris oversaw each and every marking and bound the slave to them with their own blood." He sneered at the memory, his hands curling into fists.

"How could my people have forgotten something so awful?" Ellana asked, her voice strangled.

Solas smiled bitterly. "I wondered the same thing, vhenan." At the sight of her horrified expression he let the rage evaporate, shaking his head. "Forgive me, I have strayed from our original conversation. It is difficult to revisit these memories."

"Your family was like Dorian's?" she asked. "You kept slaves?"

"No," he answered with a frown and a shake of his head. "Not…truly. We served Elgar'nan and each year he sent a hundred slaves to aid in the harvest. My mother had charge of them and despised every moment of it. She was a kindhearted but pragmatic woman, a lover of nature who spent a millennia wandering the wilds before she settled in our village with my father. Together they shared a love of knowledge and peace."

She smiled at him, her eyes bright. "You take after them both, then."

He chuckled and shifted position, moving to sit on the edge of the tub to ease the strain in his back and legs. "Mostly after my mother. My father was a very patient man, but my mother had the brash temper of a dragon." Something in his chest fluttered, remembering them as he hadn't allowed himself to do for millennia. To speak his true story aloud to anyone, even before uthenera, had been unthinkable until now. He found himself feeling lightheaded with relief as a weight he hadn't realized he carried eased from his shoulders. Speaking of them now brought them to life again, made them real, but he had to quash the pain that came with it to keep Ellana from seeing it.

"How did you grow from being the child of a librarian and a farmer into becoming one of the Evanuris?" Ellana asked, the dismay in her voice making it almost a whisper.

This would be tougher to explain to her, so Solas remained silent, contemplating for several heartbeats. Finally he said, "The People were all mages in the days of Elvhenan, as you know. But the Evanuris possessed truly godlike reserves. Imagine, vhenan, a mage who could turn you to stone with but a thought. And in the world of Elvhenan they could reshape the physical realm using the Fade, just as I can with dreams now. On the field of battle, Mythal and Elgar'nan could turn the air to water and drown entire armies. They could crack open the earth or lash it with fire sprung from nowhere."

She shuddered, clutching more tightly to her knees in the bath. "I'm starting to think you did the world a great favor, Solas."

Solas shook his head, rejecting her praise. "You do not understand. Elvhenan was built on magic in every way. We constructed our homes with it, we lit the world with it, even designed other realms like the libraries and the Crossroads. War was bloody and brutal—but so are the wars of this age. These tactics sound terrifying to you because they are foreign, but when I awoke and learned of all the ways non-mages use to bludgeon, bleed, and hack one another limb from limb…at least magic is precise and kills swiftly. "

At her look of consternation he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I have strayed again. I told you of Mythal and Elgar'nan so that you could understand that the Evanuris were unlike any mages of this day…" He raised his head and looked to her, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. "Save one."

Her green eyes widened with disbelief. "Solas, are you telling me you can…that you are…"

He nodded once but did not smile as her jaw dropped. The shock in her face made his stomach twist and he turned his head to the bath oils to evade her stare, shoulders slumping. "I became one of the Evanuris because I am one of them. In Elvhenan the term referred to power as much as godhood."

"You cannot be that powerful," Ellana said, breathless with disbelief. "I have seen you injured. I've seen you weakened…"

"I am not as powerful as I once was, no. The long sleep and the Veil have weakened me greatly. And I have always been vulnerable to physical injury, but…" He smiled, lopsided and almost sheepish. "It was not only my past I hid as we defeated Corypheus."

She groaned, raising one hand to rub at her forehead. The sight and sound of her distress made Solas cringe, regretting that he'd revealed this truth to her. In just the course of one day he'd gone from being a harmless wandering apostate, quiet and reserved and of average magic talent, to being the trickster god her people most feared—and having the enormous powers that came with it. He rushed to apologize yet again. "I'm sorry, vhenan. I know this must be difficult to accept."

"That's an understatement," she said and relaxed backward in the tub, letting out a long breath and sinking in to her chin, eyes closing. "I still can't believe I've been in love with a god all this time and had no idea."

The words hit him like a slap and he cringed, feeling his cheeks heat at the reminder of how long and how deeply he had betrayed her. You do not deserve her, trickster, a little voice taunted him inside with the truth. He felt sweaty suddenly with the fear that she would change her mind and reject him. He would never hold her again, never get the chance to hold or see his child, regardless of what he did as Fen'Harel in this present world.

The idea made him feel sick.

"I promised you the truth, vhenan," he said, his voice raw. "And I meant it." There was a pressure in his chest, a desire to keep speaking, to open up and explain more. She still didn't understand so much about Elvhenan—both its horrors and its glories. But he restrained himself, determined not to overwhelm her and risk losing their relationship and his child.

"I appreciate it," she said, her smile uncertain but her eyes tender with affection. "It's just a lot to take in." She nudged a clump of bubbles around idly for a moment before asking, "How is it that one of the Evanuris could be born to such humble parents? You said your parents were of average magical talent?"

"Yes," he confirmed with a small nod. "If they lived in this world they may not have even manifested magical talent naturally. When my talents emerged they were shocked. They did not realize I possessed power to equal the Evanuris, but they knew I would be taken from them if I were discovered."

"Taken from your parents?" Ellana asked, alarm and confusion coloring her features. "Why would they take you from your family if everyone was a mage?"

This was another way her world was markedly different from Elvhenan and yet, in a bizarre mockery of the past, it was also the same. "Dreamer mages comprised Elvhenan's upper class and they were often born to middle or lower class families. They were prized by the Evanuris like good horses or other beasts of burden," Solas explained. "We needed those skills for work in cities like Arlathan, not out in the fields or in the libraries. The greater the power of the Dreamer, the higher the class they will be assigned."

He paused, pinning her with his gaze to make sure she understood. "It was not a choice, vhenan. Although I would live in luxury, I would still be little better than one of Elgar'nan's slaves in the fields. I would neber be free to do as I liked. I would be put to work, serving the People, most likely claimed by Elgar'nan like chattel. I would not see my parents often because they were lower class. And if I dared cause trouble or shirk my duty it would be those I loved, not myself, who would pay the price. My parents encouraged me to hide my talents to allow me to have a choice."

She shook her head, rippling the water. "Solas," she said, barely breathing his name. "This is the world you would bring back?"

"No," he said, shooting her a glare. "I would restore the simplicity of the middle class only—a life with small communities such as your clan."

"You wouldn't be able to stop the reshaped world from repeating the same mistakes," she said, frowning. "Surely you must see that, emma lath."

He stared at the cerulean tiles in the counter the tub was mounted into and tried not to think or feel anything, not to react at all. Waking from uthenera to discover magic and elves alike oppressed had been a shock, motivating him from the start to seek a way to tear down the Veil and undo it. Yet he'd also seen the way history warped memory and twisted motives over and over again. The Seekers of Truth. The Wardens. The Chantry. Elvhenan. Everything started out well, but fell apart over time, growing corrupt and turning a blind eye to the downtrodden and their suffering.

He knew he could not stop that by tearing down the Veil and remaking the world, even if he survived doing it to preside over his creation. But at least the world would be whole again, complete with the Fade overlaying it, and the People would not face a slow extinction at the hands of humans—and they'd be immortal, the sole race to possess such a gift.

"I would not restore the Elvhenan Empire," he explained. "And I could not prevent future corruptions, vhenan. You are correct." He looked at her, feeling his eyes burning with emotion. "But if I do nothing we will fade like morning mist. Our people rely on the magic of the Fade, and I took it from them. We have been dying ever since."

She moved through the water, sloshing and splashing slightly as she reached one hand out to take his. The warm wetness of her touch and the sight of her lithe, naked body reawakened his desire despite the somberness of the conversation. Her green eyes gazed up at him, soft and sympathetic and beautiful.

"There must be a better way, emma lath. Cassandra, Rainier, Cullen, Josephine, Leliana—all of the others—they do not deserve subjugation beneath our People."

"I did not say they did," Solas murmured, brow furrowing. "And I would not wish to see them harmed, but I am not naïve. There will always be those who are subjugated and repressed. Our only hope is to minimize it. But I would see the People elevated. It is the humans who are the trespassers to Thedas. I cannot allow compassion for our companions make me forget this as the truth it is."

He brought his other hand to her cheek, caressing the soft skin. "I remember an age when our people did not speak Common at all, when we had never met humans. I was an oddity in Arlathan's court for knowing even a few phrases of Common from my wanderings. It was not until uthenera that I learned it properly in the Fade."

"Arlathan's court," she repeated, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand. She smirked. "I knew you were too comfortable in the winter palace."

He smiled down at her, longing making his heart hammer. The floral smell rose up from her skin, inviting and tempting. "Yes," he murmured. "I have had some practice at it. There was a time when I was the talk of the court, just as you are now."

He could still remember the sheer, silken gowns of the noblewomen as they eyed him from the crowds at sumptuous parties at art galleries and theaters. In those days the whispers had been of the Lone Wolf, the mysterious Dreamer who'd rejected the upper class in favor of the wilds and the spirits of the Fade—considered an odd choice even among the ancient Elvhen in the nobility's eyes. He'd met Mythal in that court and fallen under her protection and tutelage. It'd been Mythal who finally saw through his guarded nature and realized he was not merely a powerful Dreamer but a full-blown Evanuris who'd somehow escaped detection.

And from there it'd all started crashing down…

"Did you ever take a bond partner?" she asked quietly. "Did you have children?" She hesitated a moment and then revised the question with a timid smile. "Other children. Before."

He chuckled. "No, vhenan. To both questions." He didn't reveal that children were rare among the upper classes because they so often disappointed their parents when they did not have the same magical capacity and would be relegated to the middle class or worse upon reaching adulthood. Instead he told her, "I was much like Commander Cullen is now. There were many proposals from the upper class and I spent most of my time evading them. There was a reason they called me the Lone Wolf then."

"He Who Hunts Alone," Ellana said, laughing. "My Keeper sometimes called Fen'Harel that."

"She would be wrong now," Solas replied somberly, gazing into her eyes and inching closer.

"Well, you could still be He Who Bathes Alone. So, are you going to enjoy this bath with me, Dread Wolf, or am I going to get wrinkly and cold waiting on you?" She grinned, her eyes bright with humor—and desire.

Excitement leaped in his belly, like a wolf pouncing on a hare. He kissed her suddenly, breathing fast with hunger. She rose onto her knees, meeting his desire with her own, wet hands smelling of flowers as she dug into his collar. Solas caressed one hand up her back, feeling over the little valley of her spine as his heart drummed in his ears.

She moaned at his touch, shivering, and tugging at his clothing. Solas broke the kiss to shed his over-coat, tunic, and leggings before slipping into the bath. Ellana watched him, a mischievous smile on her face. The water was still warm and rich with the floral scent of the soaps and oils Ellana had been using. He truly was in need of a bath, coated with sweat from the long, hot day and the short battle at the Crossroads, but Ellana was in his lap before he could give it more than a passing thought. He wound his arms around her waist, his hands sliding low.

Her hands cupped his cheeks as she straddled him, staring into his eyes. Solas could see the love in her stare and it set his body aflame with want for her. He captured her lips again, one hand moving to gently caress her breast and then trace its way along her shoulder and to her neck and arm. Ellana moaned once more, shifting to ease herself down, taking him inside her. The heat of her body over him stole his breath, making him gasp, breaking their sloppy kiss.

"This is what I wanted to do last night," she whispered into his ear.

He moaned, kissing her neck. "How can I make it up to you?"

"I have a few ideas," she murmured, her chuckle like a purr. She rocked her hips, making the water slosh rhythmically and obliterating his thoughts as the pleasurable sensation built. He moved with her, angling his hips and helping support her with one hand while the other stroked its way up and down her body, delighting him when she shivered.

"I have many talents, vhenan," he told her, husky with his increasing arousal. "But omniscience is not one of them." He nibbled at her ear and felt her shudder in his arms, moaning. "Dirthera," he said, the word ragged as his breath caught in his throat.

She turned her head, kissing him as she pumped her hips over him at a faster pace, sliding over his length and grinding against him, then repeating it in a rhythm. As he gasped, struggling to keep his eyes open and his mind coherent, she grinned. "Is the Dread Wolf giving the Herald of Andraste orders now?"

"You…would not…listen," he struggled to say through the waves of pleasure. He gnashed his teeth, determined to delay and focus on her. His hand on her hip tightened, trying to slow her hips while the other dove between her legs. As he rubbed two fingers over her, back and forth, Ellana cried out with the heightened pleasure, rocking against his hips and his fingers. Her hands gripped into fists on his shoulders and her eyes rolled backward, the lids fluttering.

The sight and sound of her pleasure threatened to undo him, making his mouth water and his breathing stagger. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her throat to trail kisses up her smooth skin. He continued the swirling motion of his fingers, teasing and stroking as Ellana's hips made the water slosh around them in the tub.

She set the pace, pumping faster and moaning. Solas wrestled with his own pleasure as it built, spiraling on itself. He let out only the occasional grunt as he held back the tide of his own orgasm by reaching for the magic in his core each time he neared the precipice. It was just enough to distract him and delay for her.

Then Ellana's features twisted as if with pain and she cried out, her muscles seizing over his length and snapping taut. As her cries filled the room, echoing from the walls, Solas let go of his own control and let the pleasure swell until it burst over him as well. He grunted, breathing raggedly against her skin and shuddering. Ellana cradled his head, leaning into his upper body, sighing with each exhalation.

As the euphoria and lassitude settled over him, Solas suddenly felt the press of hot tears behind his eyes—from joy and relief. If he hadn't known better from many years of experience, he would've believed this wasn't reality, couldn't be reality. At any moment he might awaken and discover it was all a hallucination and he'd never left uthenera, never found such a miraculous woman who could love him in spite of what he'd done to the world and their people.

And in that moment he was both whole and shattered at once as he realized he could never choose the People over her. He couldn't lie to himself. He'd grown selfish, and in so doing he'd condemn the People to die.

No, he thought, taking in a quavering breath. I will find a way to save them both.

He moved one hand through the water, brushing his fingers and then his palm lazily over her navel as the pressure of his emotions continued to pulsate through his blood. In the back of his mind he could feel Fen'Harel writhing in rage, but this was Solas' moment, not the Dread Wolf's.

Ellana shifted, pulling away enough to stare into his face, searching over him with a look of concern as she registered his distress. "Solas?" she asked. Her cheeks were flushed red from lovemaking, her pupils dilated.

"Ma serannas, vhenan," he whispered, swallowing to try and get rid of the painful lump in his throat. "You have given me hope."

One of her hands moved to cover his over her abdomen and squeezed as she smiled. "You give yourself too little credit. There was always hope." She leaned close, resting her forehead against his. "There will always be hope."

At that instant, both Solas and Fen'Harel could believe her. Solas kissed her, pouring his gratitude into it and cherishing the moment for fear it would soon leave him.

Next Chapter

"You removed the Inquisitor's tattoos," Dorian said and then twisted his head to look at Solas with narrowed eyes. "Where did you learn such a spell?"

Solas smiled, open and friendly, beyond guile and suspicion. "I encountered a human mage in the Free Marches who made a living removing ink and blemishes from the skin of anyone who could afford his services."

"How did you pay for it?" Dorian asked, shaking his head. "You were a wandering apostate. What currency did this man want? Sticks and stones? Mud and muck?" The doubt in Dorian's face was easy to read, though he passed it off with his usual humor. "Sexual favors?"