A/N: Sorry I've run a bit late tonight. I had a time change with the cross country move and of course lots of changes due to the move itself and yadda yadda. You know how it goes. A big thank you to everyone who reviewed and followed! I hope you continue to enjoy this! We have partly left the angst for now because I rather think that after a near-death experience disagreements get put into a different sort of perspective. It's the sort of thing that fizzles most everything else. Like, what were we fighting about? I forgot because almost DYING distracted me. Anyway, without further ado...
Twenty-six
Reunited
"I did it," Sera's voice rang out in the dark clearing, choked and thick. She stood to the far right of the group beside Rainier and Iron Bull, her arms wrapped around herself and her shoulders hunching. "I don't even know what frigging happened. Just came running in, saw the rift and demons and shite…" She broke off, suddenly sobbing.
"I was with her," Mahanon said, rising to his feet. Ellana's blood still coated his face and hands. His skin was pale and ashen, his voice trembling. "The archer, I mean."
"Sera," Solas said, supplying her name, cold and deadpan.
Mahanon nodded. "When we got to where you're standing it was…" He shut his eyes, shaking his head.
"It was the Fade," Dorian finished. "Sera must've been so shocked she released an arrow without aiming properly." When Solas looked to the Tevinter all he saw was the streaks of red on the other man's hands. Rage twisted, sparking inside him.
"Is she alright?" Sera asked, brow knit and tears streaming from her eyes. "Please say you fixed it." She shook her head, blond hair flicking with the sharp movement. "Swear I'll never pie you or call you names. Never again—just save her!"
"I have," Solas answered, still somber and quiet.
Sera's shoulders slumped, shaking as she let out another sob. "Sweet Andraste!" She covered her mouth with one hand. "Thank you."
Solas knew she wasn't thanking him but rather her burnt, falsely-divine prophet of the Maker. More false gods, he thought, finding his grip on Ellana's body tightening with outrage. As much as he wanted to slaughter everyone who'd let Ellana come to this, Solas focused his wrath on the sentinels. They were the real ones at fault while the rest were mere pawns on the chessboard. The puppet master was Mythal, yet another figure made falsely divine.
Then, abruptly, Solas heard a crackling sound and felt the flush of familiar magic wash over him from the Anchor as it came to life, glowing green where Ellana's hand rested against her abdomen. He stared down at it for a moment, uncomprehending, before she gasped, eyes springing wide. She curled against his chest, crying out through gritted teeth as she cradled her left palm. Greenish energy crawled up her arm, sizzling and arcing. To Solas it was little more than a prickle or tingle, but to Ellana it'd be agony.
Jerking his head to Mathrel, he saw a yellow glow and heard the same sizzling as the foci and the Anchor reacted to one another. The warrior caught on at once and Fade stepped backward, toward the ruins, but only a few meters away he staggered, popping out of it. The wolf headdress slung like a pendulum in his arms, weighed down by the foci still crackling in the hidden inner pocket.
"Return it to Zevanni," Solas shouted at him, struggling to keep Ellana still as she continued to writhe in his arms. Recovering after zipping so fast from the Fade, Mathrel Fade stepped again, disappearing around the massive bulk of the tree. As soon as he was out of sight Solas dropped to his knees, using one arm to support Ellana and cradle her close while his free hand gripped her left one.
"Breathe, vhenan," he whispered to her and closed his eyes, squeezing her hand and pulling the Anchor's magic into himself. It was hot and pulsing, powerful and setting his skin tingling with a pleasurable sensation. She cried out, whimpering a moment and then went limp, shaking as the magic left the Anchor. Calm, Solas commanded it, caressing up and down her left forearm. Wait.
Her breath fanned against his neck, fast but steady. "Thank you."
Without opening his eyes, Solas cupped her cheek and pressed his forehead to hers. Breathing together in silence, he shared her air and let the returning warmth of her skin calm the seething rage still boiling inside him. She lived. She was whole. That was all that mattered.
And he was never letting her out of his sight again. Ever.
When she let out a little sigh and shifted, squirming against his hold, Solas refused to release her for several heartbeats, unwilling to break the connection and let the concerns of the world rush back in. But then she said, "I need to pee, Solas. You have to let me go or I'm afraid I'll wet myself."
Reluctantly, Solas pulled away from her, pausing to wipe at the blood caking her chin with a frown. "Can you walk, vhenan? Do you remember what happened?"
"It's…a bit hazy," she admitted with a scowl. She wiped at her own chin and grimaced when her fingers came away flecked with half-dried red-brown blood. "The demon attacked me, I think."
Solas glared over Ellana's shoulder in Sera's direction, finding the rogue still shaking with half-muffled sobs as Rainier and Iron Bull comforted her. They were far enough away they probably couldn't hear. Still, though Solas felt his skin flush hot with lingering rage, he didn't correct Ellana, choosing instead to focus on letting her relieve herself.
Shifting, he lowered her legs and steadied her shoulders, gentle and slow. Her legs trembled beneath her but held, though they visibly wobbled at the knee. Wrapping her right hand over his shoulders and winding an arm about her waist, Solas started walking her toward a small hill in the distance to get some space and privacy from the others.
"There's a spring nearby," Mahanon called to him and started walking in their direction. "I can guide you to—"
"That will not be necessary," Solas said. He would find it on his own.
After only a few steps he noted a small rune, gleaming green on a nearby stone. As he and Ellana passed it the Veil slammed into him like a meteor. He gasped and his next step faltered though he remained upright and with Ellana still secure at his side. As his core contracted and the comforting caress of his magic was sapped away, Solas' temple tightened and his head drooped.
Back to being Tranquil, he thought.
As he and Ellana slowly made their way up the small hill, Solas heard Abelas issue orders to his sentinels to make camp within the rune circles. He twisted his head at the neck, glaring down at the group of elves, humans—and the lone Tal Vashoth. A Fade rift still glimmered, as green and bright as an emerald. Solas recalled the rune, placing it in his memory as one used for joining different locations. The knowledge clicked into place and at last he realized what they'd been doing here. Mythal and the sentinels needed Ellana to tear open rifts and enter the Fade, then charge the runes in both the physical and spiritual realms. It was clever, but already they must've killed dozens of spirits by opening the rifts and Solas' heart twisted at the thought that Mythal, the sentinels, and Ellana would callously sacrifice the beings of the Fade in favor of the People and the physical realm. But then again his own plans were little better.
At the nearest brush out of sight of the others, Ellana relieved herself, offering no fuss as Solas helped her shed clothing to do so. She was weak and coated in her own blood and Solas had to keep tamping down his own fear and anger at the ongoing reminder of how close she'd come to dying. They didn't speak as Solas took her further into the forest, following the distant babbling of the spring Mahanon had mentioned. Night insects sang, still active in this warmer climate despite the fact that winter had set in fully around most of Thedas.
When they found the little brook Solas knelt with Ellana and helped scrub off her chin, then cupped water for her to drink in one hand. She sipped once before pushing his hand away. "I can manage," she murmured, stubborn as ever. Solas waited at her side, watching as she tried to do it herself, but it ended in failure as she hissed with pain and gripped her shoulder.
Wordlessly, Solas returned to helping her drink, patient and slow. Eventually she seemed to give in, gripping his wrist with her good arm and pressing her lips to his hand with each thirsty sip. She wobbled a little, clearly weak when she leaned forward, so Solas edged closer and laid his free hand on her good shoulder, helping steady her. Her eyelids closed with enjoyment as she drank. After several mouthfuls she began shivering from the cold water and Solas paused, unclasping the fur he wore wrapped over one shoulder and laying it over her.
She clucked her tongue but accepted the fur. "Thank you," she said and let out a weak laugh. "But I'm still upset with you." Her teeth chattered a second before she clamped her jaw shut.
"For leaving without you," Solas said with a nod. "Ir abelas, vhenan. I should have told you, but I could not risk taking you to fight the Forgotten Ones. We lost dozens as it was. If I had been distracted—"
"No," she interrupted him with a frown. "You were right. I was being stubborn. It was too dangerous for me to go. I just worried for you. But…" Blinking at him, Ellana's expression warped as if with pain. "That's not what I meant." She sucked in a trembling, wet breath. "You lied to me."
The warm press of love for her had risen into his throat but now he swallowed, repressing it and shooting her a wary, guarded look. His heart pummeled against his breastbone, hissing in his ears. He stayed silent, unsure what she meant and hoping she would elaborate. Was it something about Tevinter? The food raids? The foci? His thoughts spun as he realized he couldn't recall any longer through the stress of this extremely long day exactly what lie or half-truth she might be referencing. He'd not lied to her outright, just withheld plans and details to protect her. The biggest outright lie he could remember was—
Fenedhis, he thought and his stomach clenched as if he might vomit. If it was Corypheus and the orb she'd somehow learned of then she had every reason to be angry.
And, despite the darkness and the calming, gentle song of the water, Ellana was too clever not to read the truth in his face now. Her eyes narrowed, bright with moisture beading at the edges—tears of anger. "You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you? You've told me too many lies to even guess which one I mean."
He closed his eyes, shoulders sagging and head drooping. "Vhenan," he whispered, the weight of his wrongdoings crushing him. "Please. It has been an exceptionally long day…"
Clutching the pelt tighter, Ellana shot upright, trying to walk away from him, but she staggered. Solas rushed to support her, gripping her by the biceps. She tried to struggle and then let out a choked cry of frustration. "Why am I so weak?"
"You nearly died," Solas told her, straining to force the words out.
"I did…?" she said, looking at him, wide eyes still glimmering with her angry tears.
Solas nodded. "Even I would not have been able to save you if not for the restored Fade." Hesitating, he cleared his throat, struggling to keep his voice even, rather than trembling with the horror and despair still rippling through him. "Perhaps we might save any discussions until you are better recovered?"
"All right," she agreed and sighed, slouching against him.
The nearness of her—alive when he had almost lost her—sent his heart racing, his stomach flip-flopping. The relief and love inside him burned away everything else and he felt his pulse quicken, hot with desire despite the inappropriateness of the timing. He quashed the reaction, though he did allow himself to lean his head against her temple, to smell her sweat and the underlying uniqueness of her fragrance. Then, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he whispered, "Is the child well? Has it moved? Are you in any pain?"
"We're both well," she said softly. "And he never stops moving." She grasped his hand and guided it over her belly. Concentrating, Solas closed his eyes and felt the ghosting bump against his fingers. A warm shiver passed through him, his skin tingling with awe as it always did when he felt their child.
"Oh," he said, breathing the word in a little exhale as he nuzzled her ear. "Vhenan." His eyes stung, pressurized by the abrupt onset the powerful emotions rising within. Pulling her close, he embraced her. "I could not bear to lose you. Either of you."
"Then stop lying to me," she whispered with a little choking noise in the back of her throat. "Stop pushing me away. Let me be your partner. Let me help you. Give Mythal's plan a chance to work."
A wave of cold passed through him at Mythal's name, but Solas pushed it aside. After seeing her covered in blood, her skin gray like ash, and her body limp, lifeless, and cold in his arms…how could he not promise her anything she wished?
"Ma nuvenin," he said and gently turned her face toward his, kissing her tenderly despite the fire burning inside him. But his lips had barely met hers when she turned her head slightly, breaking the kiss.
"You said the same thing before," she murmured, breath puffing on his skin. "And then you lied to me." She ducked her head, tucking herself against his chest.
He let out a long sigh. Now he knew with certainty what she'd meant. With his hands still wrapped around her, idly caressing, Solas said, "You have every right to be angry with me, but I hope you can understand that I lied out of shame. The choices I made in the first year after I woke were…questionable. I did not care for this world or the people inhabiting it. I was wrong. And when I saw your anger at learning my foci caused such distress…I was a fool. A coward. I lied because I wanted to be a better man than I was. I didn't want you to see what a monster I had become."
He combed his fingers through her hair, traced the bumps of her neck vertebrae. "It was the same with the chaos in Tevinter and the raids for food. I did not tell you because I knew you would disapprove, and I had no choice."
"There is always choice," she said and the chilly words sent a shudder through him.
"Sometimes the only choice is between two great evils," Solas muttered, scowling at the bitterness he heard in his tone. "Such was the choice when I created the Veil." Chuckling cynically, he pulled back from her, holding her by the shoulders as he stared into her face, wiling her to understand. "It was the same for you at Adamant, choosing between Stroud and Hawke. There was no easy, clearly moral choice."
She closed her eyes, her mouth working in a frown. "Just promise me that you'll give Mythal's plan a chance." She gripped his left hand with her right one while the other remained clutched at the pelt he'd put over her. "We need your expertise to save the spirits, bring them through the rune barrier unharmed. Please."
Hearing her mention the spirits, Solas cocked his head, immediately intrigued despite himself. He wanted to ask about it but the exhaustion in her frame and in her face made him push aside his curiosity. It could wait until morning. "Very well, vhenan. I will help as I can." After a pause he clenched his jaw. "But I cannot promise I will abandon my other plans."
She nodded, her eyes searching over him as a wan smile spread over her lips. "It's a start, Solas." She squeezed his hand where she still gripped it with her own. "Thank you."
The Fade tugged on him that night with nightmares that resisted his efforts to dispel them. It was the strength of his own emotions fighting him in the Fade as he found himself reliving the moment when he'd seen Ellana covered in blood and slumped over, already half-dead. Solas always willed the image away, focusing on locating Zevanni and Mathrel's dreams instead. Despite everything that'd happened, he still had a rebellion to run, after all.
In the morning, waking before Ellana, he found frost ringing around the rune circles when he crawled from their tent. Beyond the rune circles the frost was heavy, coloring the ample underbrush with bright white that glittered in the low slant of morning sunlight through the trees. Rainier, Iron Bull, Dorian and Sera had set up tents just outside the rune circles, determined to remain outside of the Fade after what had happened the previous night. Solas imagined them shivering in their tents, their breath fogging on the air inside. He and the others who'd camped inside the runes, meanwhile, had been kept warm by the Fade—by Solas' will and experience as a Dreamer.
The sky overhead was brilliant, crystalline with shades of yellow, orange, pink, and the occasional glint of green. With the addition of the sunlight proper it had a cheery appearance, stirring something warm and nostalgic inside his chest that was both pleasure and pain. He could see a few rocks hovering overhead, barren and lifeless from their recent time locked away in the Fade, but green ether swirled around them, pleading for him to shape it. But when he turned to look in a different direction he saw the putrid spires of the Black City and scowled.
The magic of the Veil kept the Evanuris slumbering in their prison. The rune circles were tiny but stable breaches in that and likely posed no threat to the integrity of the Veil. The Evanuris wouldn't awaken as the Veil remained in place, but the Black City was more than just an eyesore where it hovered in the sky—it'd be a temptation. Anyone with enough talent and spell crafting knowledge could now find a way to access it. Even the less magically talented could access it with a tall enough tower. The Black City had been locked away and inaccessible in dreams, but when exposed to the ingenuity and permanence of the physical world…
Someone would reach it. In time.
Yet another problem for this bizarre plan.
From the crackling campfire in the center of the circle, Solas heard Mahanon's voice say, "I think it's uglier seeing it in the sunlight, away from dreams." The First of clan Lavellan stood beside the fire, his staff secured to his back and his head tilted up to stare through the small gaps in the trees at the Black City hovering far above.
Two Dalish men lingered nearby. Solas recognized them both but only recalled the younger of the two by name: Lerand, Ellana's former lover and…betrothed? He didn't know. Appraising the warriors with his quick scrutiny, Solas noted they both held their hands tucked beneath their armpits, as if cold despite the close proximity of the fire and the pleasant temperature of the rune circle thanks to Solas' influence. Abelas and Dorian had warned all the non-mage elves to be very cautious while they were inside the circle, lest they accidentally cast their newfound magic.
It was Lerand's companion who asked, "Was it ever golden as the Chant says?"
"Yes," Solas answered and felt their eyes fall on him with reverence. "Once."
"And the Tevinter magisters defiled it?" Mahanon asked. "Turned it black?"
Solas shifted from one foot to the other and then nodded. "After a fashion." A half-truth, his standard evasive answer. What did it matter if the magisters had been misled and used?
"How did they get to it?" Lerand asked, shaking his head with a look of consternation. He chuckled and gestured at the sky with one hand. "I mean, it's really high up there. Can a dragon even fly that high?"
"Yes," Solas replied. "They can." He'd seen high dragons roost on it before the Veil…when the city had been golden. Pushing those thoughts aside, Solas cleared his throat and addressed the warriors. "You will need to be tutored in magic. Mahanon, would you take them on as students?"
Mahanon's hazel eyes widened and he seemed to start, as if just realizing who he'd been speaking with. "Of course, hahren." Licking his lips, he hurriedly added, "I hope we did not offend you by aiding the sentinel—Arina. She told us you had imprisoned Lana and that we must save her…" He broke off as Solas couldn't help the snarl that curled over his lips. "Forgive me. I fear we've heard too many tales of the Dread Wolf being a troublemaker and traitor. We were…manipulated. You saved my sister's life when none of us could. We were wrong to doubt you." Here he shot Lerand a meaningful look that made Solas suspect Lerand was the driving force behind their actions.
The warriors both seemed to cringe under the weight of their First's words, staring gloomily into the fire. The Dalish warrior whose name Solas couldn't recall said, "Our actions were done in haste and without proper understanding. We knew only that we were told we could not see Lana."
Solas arched an eyebrow in silent question.
"We tried to visit her," Lerand explained quickly with a sheepish glance that bordered on fear. "But that guy, Mackerel? Mattel…?"
"Mathrel," Solas supplied.
Lerand cringed. "Yeah, him. He told us in no uncertain terms to buzz off."
"And we could not find you, hahren," Mahanon added with an apologetic shrug. "I could not help but worry for her—but we were wrong. Arina should not have been able to mislead us to easily."
Had they really needed to see Solas save Ellana's life to believe he cared for her genuinely? Did they believe Solas feigned everything while visiting clan Lavellan? That he had a spell over Ellana and had been lying with her against her will, even getting a child on her for the sake of a ruse? The thought made his stomach acids curdle with revulsion while his skin bristled with indignant outrage.
Yet, despite the heat of anger burning just beneath the surface, Solas kept his expression neutral, reminding himself that these three men had had to fight against a lifetime of conditioning against Fen'Harel. And it was not as if they'd dragged Ellana away against her will.
Before the silence could grow unwieldy in its heavy awkwardness, Solas said, "You are not the only ones manipulated by the sentinels and their false goddess." Hesitating a moment to avert his gaze, glaring to the second circle where Abelas and the sentinels had camped, Solas sighed. "I cannot say I approve of this current plan of action, but…it is what ma vhenan wants." Then, finding a few bubbles of amusement within, he turned back to the Dalish men with a smile. "And I cannot deny what a relief it is to feel the Fade properly once more."
Mahanon motioned to the dormant third rift to the north of the first circle, deeper into the woods and away from the ruins. "From what I can understand of Ellana's plan, she'll need to open hundreds of those things and fight demons at every one of them." He shook his head, frowning. "All so she can walk in the raw Fade and draw the rune circles there. But I don't understand why she can't just do a bunch of circles at once."
Now Solas stared at the rift, admiring the glittery green of it. "You have not seen the raw Fade. The sleeping minds of most dreamers do not see it, and often forget it if they do, but it is frequently impassable. Fade stone creates narrow paths and there are vast stretches of swamp-like terrain Ellana would find it impossible to rune. Wandering through such a place physically could lead to her becoming lost or injured. There is always the risk of losing track of the rift and becoming trapped in the Fade permanently."
"So it's hopeless?" Lerand asked, brown eyes crinkled with sadness.
The hot, eager press of his mana ballooned in his chest, caressing and encouraging. Ellana had asked him to help find runes to allow spirits into their restored circles, but she didn't realize that the task Mythal had set her on was very likely impossible without himself. He chuckled, suddenly grinning as he shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest. Well played, Mythal.
"What's funny?" Lerand asked, alarm coloring his voice.
"Apologies," he answered without looking at the young man. "I was merely thinking that it would indeed prove a hopeless task…without the help of a Dreamer, such as myself." Suddenly his heart was galloping in his chest, eagerness piercing him. He swallowed the warm swelling of it inside his throat.
Cole's familiar voice spoke from near the tent Solas stood beside, drawing the Dalish men's startled stares. "Feel it everywhere, wrapped over me like a warm blanket. Skin tingling, so alive. The song is in my blood again. Hope."
"Whoa," Lerand said, eyes bugging out. "What in the great beyond is that?"
Mahanon narrowed his eyes. "A spirit."
The other Dalish warrior winced at the First's comment. "Are you sure?"
"He is Cole," Solas said calmly. "And yes, he is a spirit. A friendly one."
"I'm here to help," Cole told them with a dip of his head beneath the broad brim of his hat. "I like helping."
"I saw you last night," Mahanon said with a frown. "At least…I think I did."
"Yes," Cole said with another nod. "I made you forget me. All of you."
"Hey," the other Dalish warrior grumbled. "Stay out of my head. Creators." He tapped on Lerand's shoulder. "We should be out hunting. I'd bet this place is crawling with august ram."
Lerand shrugged, following the other man away from the fire and out of the rune circle. Both of them paused for a moment as they passed over the threshold, shuddering as the influence of the Fade left them, but then they jogged off in the confident, stealthy way of all Dalish hunters who'd never known magic. Their wrapped feet crunched over the white frost and scattered dead leaves of the forest floor as they passed the two tents where Iron Bull, Dorian, Sera, and Rainier had started emerging.
Cole turned his head to look at Solas. "He doesn't like me. Should I make him forget again?"
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Mahanon muttered with a smirk.
"Leave them be, Cole," Solas admonished gently. To Mahanon he said, "The People must learn not to fear spirits. Most are harmless and those that are not are usually simple enough to—"
"Maker's breath," Dorian interrupted him, looking ashen with cold as he huddled in front of the tent he'd shared with Iron Bull. "If I hear one more word about spirits that isn't actually referencing an intoxicating beverage, I may just vomit."
Shooting the Tevinter a venomous glare, Solas said, deliberately, "Spirits."
"I'd quite like something to drink, yes," Dorian said with a grin as he shuffled his feet in place, trying to warm up. "It'd certainly help with this damned chill."
"Anger, hard and broiling," Cole said. "His voice pulling me from sleep. Red for blood. The shadow that struck from behind, lean body and sharp blade. He was inside my home."
Dorian scowled. "I really hate it when you do that."
"Would it help if I made you forget?" Cole asked cheerily.
"No," Dorian grumbled with a sniff as he turned his wrathful stare back on Solas. "I'm glad at least to see you've not killed anyone yet. Or dragged Ellana back through the eluvian."
Bristling, Solas sneered at him. "I am not the bloodthirsty beast you believe me to be. Nor am I a callous fool." Jerking a hand toward the ruins, he explained, "It will take days before the eluvians will be safe for Ellana to pass. I will not endanger her and I do not seek to control her."
The Tevinter mage scoffed. "Is that so? Funny, I seem to recall you hauled her away from speaking with us just yesterday and one of Abelas' rogues said you'd locked her up. But I suppose that was all lies, wasn't it? You'd never do something despicable like locking her away now, would you? Just as I suppose you had nothing to do with all the chaos and bloodshed tearing apart the Imperium. Isn't that right?" he asked and then finished with a snarl. "Fen'Harel."
Solas stared at him, nonplussed externally though his skin flushed with heat. Deciding his best course of action was to ignore the other man, Solas pivoted to face the fire and strode toward it. With Dorian still glowering at him from outside the circle, Solas squatted beside the fire, ignoring the way Mahanon tensed beside him. He found the large black pot of water the sentinels or the Dalish men had no doubt collected from the spring. It was piping hot but half-empty, partly consumed as Mahanon and the other two had likely made tea. Solas focused on it for a moment and waved a glowing hand over the pot. Green ether rose from around the circle, flowing upward and then into the pot where it transformed into water and dripped with a tinkling sound, rapidly replenishing the pot.
Mahanon gasped. "Fenedhis! Did you just conjure water?"
Dorian made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, then rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, we're all very impressed."
"You are?" asked Cole innocently.
"No," Dorian snapped. "Haven't I tried to explain sarcasm to you before? Clearly you weren't listening." With another groan of irritation, the Tevinter turned his back on them and started for the trees, likely to answer the call of nature.
Ignoring Dorian's interruption, Solas said, "Not truly. I merely shaped the ether of the Fade."
Mahanon shook his head and laughed as he repeated, "Merely." Grinning, he asked, "I don't supposed you could teach me?"
"That would depend on how strong your talent is now that you are fully connected to the Fade," Solas answered placidly and then smiled. "But I would be happy to teach you."
He felt a prickling over the back of his neck and immediately sensed the Anchor, the power of its magic acting as a tether joining him to Ellana. He could feel it even now while awake with the Fade present. Rising to his full height he smiled as he saw Ellana emerge from their tent, one hand on her head. Concern immediately snapped his muscles taut. He strode over to her, gently gripping her shoulders. "How are you feeling, vhenan?"
"Hungry," she said, brow furrowing. "And…I had strange dreams."
"More vivid than usual, I expect," Solas said, unable to stop himself from grinning. He had not yet seen how her magic manifested, but like all the People she would possess the gift of it now. The thought of sharing his knowledge with her only broadened his grin. He had to resist the urge to draw her into an embrace.
"You could say that," she said, still making a perturbed face.
Recalling his own tendency toward nightmares—and the reason behind them—Solas sobered, the smile falling from his lips. He caressed up and down her shoulders, from bicep to elbow, deliberately soft on her left side where it'd been pierced by the arrow. "Ir abelas, vhenan. The nightmares will be more powerful as well." He dug at her left shoulder, his touch gentle as he searched for the wound to see how well it'd closed under his healing spell and with the added help of a night spent in the strengthening power of the Fade.
Ellana let out a little sigh, her hands moving to intercept his. "I already looked. It's closed fine, just a little tender still." As Solas halted his ministrations, meeting her green eyed gaze, he saw something more than physical pain there. "I wasn't attacked by the terror demon, was I?" she asked quietly.
"No," Solas said, clenching his jaw. "You were not."
"I'll have to talk to Sera," she murmured, her eyes glazing over, haunted. "It wasn't her fault."
"Sweat beading on her brow," Cole said from just behind Ellana, his voice going flat and dull. "Glinting orange in the firelight. Blue eyes squeezed shut. The sharp smell of salt and the sweetness of her milk."
A blush spread over Ellana's cheeks as she pulled back slightly from Solas and looked at Mahanon. "Sorry. I had a lot of dreams last night." She chuckled. "One of them was about Rinaya—"
"Giving birth to Deya?" Mahanon finished for her. Something sounded choked in his voice, thick with shock. Solas glanced at him, gaze searching over the other, younger man. "That was my dream, Lana. More a memory, actually."
Ellana cocked her head to one side. "I shared your dream?" Her eyes flew to Solas and smirked. "I'd be surprised if it hadn't happened before."
Solas stared at her, struggling to suppress the sudden breathless hush that'd smothered him and set his heart thumping like a fist against his breastbone. He'd believed the Anchor had been what allowed her to dream lucidly, to find him in the Fade and let him share his dream with her. But perhaps it'd been more than that all along.
Apparently thinking along the same lines, Ellana raised her left hand and flexed it. "The Anchor strikes again, I guess."
Solas licked his lips and shook his head once in the negative. "Possibly not." He chuckled, grabbing her hand on impulse and feeling over the line in her palm, sensing the magic beneath as a way to distract himself from the way excitement lurched inside him. Warmth uncoiled in his belly though he tried to stifle it as he met her questioning gaze. "You could be a latent Dreamer, only discovering the talent now that you are connected to the Fade as our people were truly meant to."
Her eyes rounded, stunned. "I could shape the Fade? The way you do?"
"Not to the same extent," he said, smiling softly. "But with practice, I suspect so, yes. You would be able to dispel nightmares and touch others' dreams." His smile widened into a grin. "I would be happy to teach you, vhenan." The tone in his voice dropped into a sensual purr before he could stop it but he resisted the desire to frown in reaction. The last thing he wanted was to make her doubt the sincerity of his offer.
"Of course," she agreed, her smile dazzling him and drawing his eyes to her lips. The urge to kiss her nearly overcame him and he'd leaned forward almost close enough for their noses to touch when Mahanon cleared his throat. Solas froze and then, swallowing, withdrew from her, quashing the heat churning through him as it tried to spread to his loins.
"Hahren, I don't suppose you can be sure I'm not a Dreamer too?" Mahanon asked, smirking a moment before he spoke to Ellana. "I saw you in my dream, Lana. And I changed it into memory. It's usually a nightmare, but I'd had more than enough of those, but I was surprised I managed to change it last night."
As much as he didn't care to imagine teaching Mahanon at the same time as Ellana, Solas couldn't find a reason to reject him as a student. He'd just have to juggle students, making sure to schedule plenty of alone time for himself and Ellana. Their dreams together always wound up with an erotic undertone, after all, making Mahanon's potential presence awkward.
With a nod and a smile, he said, "I would not be surprised if you did not have a capacity for it as well, considering you can cast despite the Veil."
Mahanon clapped his hands together, clearly pleased. "Excellent!" He dipped his head in an exaggerated nod bordering on a small bow. "Ma serannas, hahren."
Movement across the camp drew Solas' gaze. All amusement fled as he saw Abelas striding toward the first circle, making his way through the tents with his back straight and his shoulders squared. His golden eyes were narrow and his lips pinched thin. Magic churned and boiled inside him, reacting to the sudden rage that exploded in his chest. Solas quashed it with a huff.
"Lessons will have to wait," he murmured, frowning. "I suspect the time has come for us to go to work expanding these rune circles." Right after I petrify Abelas, he thought.
Next Chapter
She rotated her head slowly to meet his stare, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Didn't I tell you I wanted to share power?" she asked. "I'm not inquisitor." Despite the slight terseness of her words Solas saw only the smoldering look and the flush on her cheeks.
"This is your plan," Solas reminded her, gently. "I am Solas here. Not Fen'Harel."
She frowned then and his heart seemed to fall into his guts. "You're always Solas. And Fen'Harel."