~8~
Mother Giselle's fussing was beginning to wear down Serana's usually kind demeanor.
"Mother Giselle, please," Serana began, sighing at the woman's hurt expression. "Rest you say I need, rest is what I shall do. But I cannot do that if you are insistent on watching me all day and night."
"I think it best if I allow you to rest in quiet. Good night, Herald." The older woman said, nodding as if she had arrived at that logical conclusion on her own.
Serana resisted the urge to roll her eyes, opting instead for a small smile and a quick bow of her head as the Mother exited the tent.
"Good riddance," she muttered under her breath, closing her tired eyes.
The image of Solas' scarred hand filled her mind's eye. She wondered at the extent of the burn damage, and how much he was able to heal as successfully as the one on his hand. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Serana huffed in frustration. Solas seemed to be quite the enigma as of late. She could not deny that she had her secrets, some so deep they were a mystery even to her, but she could not shake the feeling that beneath his cool and calm exterior, there was a furnace raging, waiting to be found and tended to.
Serana also recognized loneliness when she saw it, and she could see the depth of sadness in his eyes. Even when a smile would crack his serious visage, the sense of longing for more was there, lurking in the pits of his wise eyes. Perhaps her ability to keenly identify that lonesome feeling was due to her own forlornness.
She tsked at the way she could think of the man for hours if she let herself, and shook her head before preparing to lay on her bedroll.
"I can't do this here," she murmured, kneeling on the cold spread of linen and furs. Maybe I can sneak out once most of the camp is asleep, she contemplated.
Digging through the small cloth bag Leliana had dropped off earlier, Serana pulled out a small thick tome; another one of Varric's books. She ran her thumb across the gold embossed title: Tale of The Champion. Serana opened the book and eagerly began to read, intent on staying awake until the camp grew quiet with sounds of sleep.
Engrossed with the tale of Marian Hawke, Serana closed the book around her index finger, her eyes trailing off onto the ground around her. This Fenris character reminds me very much of another elf prone to quiet brooding, she mused. The similarities were subtle, but the comparison still brought a smile to her face. She folded back the top right corner of the page she was on and stored the book bag in the bag.
Careful not to move, Serana closed her eyes to listen to the camp outside her tent. Aside from soft snoring and distant footfalls of the tell-tale guards on watch, the camp was mostly quiet. Gathering her makeshift bed, Serana pulled on her cloak and hood over her head. She reached under the backside of the tent, pulling it up a tad to peek underneath.
It seemed her tent was positioned near an old stone tower wall. Perfect, she sighed, taking advantage of the opportunity to sneak out the back. Making her way around the rather large circular tower, Serana decided it best to use the tower's vacancy to her advantage. The solid walls would hide her better than cloth flaps, and due to the majority of the upper portion of south wall missing, no one was taking shelter within. Stealthily, Serana slipped inside the tower, positioning the furs on the stone ground behind the spiral staircase, hidden by a stack of damaged wooden crates and chests.
Laying on her back, Serana looked up at the underside of the stairs, feeling the weight of sleep pull at the edges of her senses. Her limbs began to feel heavy, her chest rising and falling slowly, meeting the pace set by the whistling wind entering through cracks in the stone surrounding her. Feeling her spirit form detaching from her physical body, Serana embraced the lightness of air.
She passed through the stone bricks and through a small thicket of trees before turning back to look at the camp. For a moment, Serana could have sworn she could feel something following her, but she knew that that was impossible in her current form. Turning back to the trees, Serana made her way to a quiet space uninhabited by Inquisition forces, and far enough away from any of the men and women on watch for the night.
Approaching a broad trunked oak tree, Serana reached her gossamery hand into its core, whispering the words taught to her by her clan, words handed down from her ancestors in the lands throughout old Elvhenan. Her surroundings immediately morphed into the warmth of her home. The trees and their familiar carvings welcoming her presence jubilantly. She could feel the eyes of Sentinels greeting her silently, hidden away in the trees surrounding her spiritual form as though she were there physically.
It didn't take long to make her way to a small alcove at the base of the small village. In the center of the alcove, an altar stood about waist-high, a small horned dragon statue with outstretched wings sitting atop. The altar seemed frivolous considering no one knelt before it— Asha'bellanar forbade it— but its presence exuded a certain compulsion that others in the clan could not deny; a compulsion to respect the authority of what the altar represented, who it represented.
Just as she did to enter her treetop village, she murmured obscure words in an ancient tongue. The altar seemed to come to life at her words, enveloped by an alabaster glow that pulsated softly like a softly beating drum.
"Asha'bellanar," Serana said quietly, "I have come as you asked."
"I knew you would," replied the woman, her voice vibrating through the dragon statue, raspy and warm. "All has gone according to plan, child. In fact, I am often amazed by the way fate and chance seem to coincide effortlessly on your path."
Serana felt frustration welling within her. Tempted to stomp her foot in aggravation, she settled for, "Hmm. Yes. Well, I am glad at least one of us is aware of this plan. I've almost died more times than I can count, and there is an ancient monster walking among us with intentions to destroy the world as we know it!" She could feel adrenaline coursing through her, the months of no real contact or direction wearing thin on her morale.
There was a brief moment of silence, and were it not for the altar's continued glow, Serana would have thought the conversation abandoned.
"Serana, the circumstances you face, you do not face alone–"
"How can you even say that?" Serana growled. "You cannot know all I have faced; you are not omnipresent, nor omniscient. In fact, your very mysterious nature is what grants you the illusion of being so powerful. I am tired of feeling like a marionette on strings. Stop speaking in riddles, and just tell me what is happening." Serana could feel a lump forming in her throat, the sensation as vivid as if she were physically there.
Another brief silence passed, and Serana was sure she had crossed some unspoken line. She fought the urge to kneel and ask for forgiveness, and felt foolish for even thinking that would be an appropriate response.
"I just need to understand why I am doing all that I am doing." Serana said softly. "The 'why' would help me greatly… more than the 'how', or anything else you think I am seeking from you, Asha'bellanar."
"Hmm," the woman's voice seemed to cause the statue to shift as she spoke. "You have always been a wise girl."
The gentle timber in the woman's voice surprised Serana. Asha'bellanar was not known for her gentleness, but for her quick-witted retorts and sardonic cackles.
"Well, there's more…" Serana said, swallowing nervously, thrown off guard by the change in the air. "Our enemy, Corypheus, has an ancient relic of our people. I am unaware of how I know this to be true, but I know the orb to be a foci– whatever that is. He plans to use it to destroy the veil and reshape the world, presumably overrun it with demons, but who knows what a monstrous arch-demon archetype considers a good plan. Thankfully, it seems he can't control my mark, " She shrugged, looking down at her hand, knowing the motion was pointless in her current form, but habits paid no heed to reality.
"And this wolf," Serana began, stopping short at the feeling of a presence near her physical form.
She stilled, her mind connecting to her body; hearing the footfalls of someone outside the tower, and soft spoken words from one scout to another, turning over their watch duty. Careful not to alter her physical state, Serana mentally sighed before returning to the altar, knowing that to sever her tie to another realm without using the proper conduit could cause irreparable damage to her mind, or worse, kill her.
"You were just going to share with me that you've met your guardian," Asha'bellanar said with her classic sardonicism.
Guardian? Serana thought back on the cavernous path alongside the wolf, and how the wolf aided her from the moment she woke until the Inquisition found her.
"Is it you?" Serana asked.
"As you said, dear girl, I am not omnipresent. I am currently dealing with another matter, one that requires my full attention, but trust that all is connected and will be revealed as the time grows near."
"The time for what?" Serana could feel the unrest growing inside her chest once again.
Hearing a soft sigh through the statue, Serana braced for a terse reply.
"You are not alone, girl," Asha'bellanar said, her voice sounding distant. "We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment... and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."
The altar's ethereal glow slowly faded before leaving Serana alone in the darkness. She slowly made her way to the secret entrance at the feet of the Sentinels guarding her home. Slowly turning to face their hidden forms high above her, a bittersweet stream of emotion filled her heart before turning her back on them once more.
One week later…
Skyhold had proven to be everything the Inquisition needed and wanted. The structure's facade had suffered from the deterioration of the time, along with the plundering of looters, but the very stones echoed with a magical resonance.
Serana had asked others if they felt it, the pull of the magic within the hold, but she only got empty stares and polite nods. It seemed everyone took to treating her as though she were a walking miracle and a demi-goddess. It also appeared as though the effect of closing the breach had on Serana's hair color only added more fuel to the whispers of her mysterious nature. The announcement of her position as the leader of the Inquisition, as the Inquisitor, had only served to make her feel more isolated as a whole.
Her companions sought her out and would often succeed at making her feel normal, but she took great efforts to avoid Solas. She could not discern the reason for her elusiveness, but she simply could not face the mage without feeling her heart accelerate and her face grow hot, followed by an embarrassing outpour of underarm sweat. In some ways, she felt like a teenager struggling through puberty all over again, only at the ripe old age of 29. She laughed to herself at the thought of behaving like a young girl, only lending more credence to the perception of her youth.
Serana knew she would not be able to avoid Solas much longer, especially with the war council following up on leads sourced from her travel through Alexius' time-travel spell. Solas was not the only elf she took great care to avoid, however. Ever since recruiting Sera, Serana could not help but feel distinctly aggravated around the new rogue. She found Sera's crude humor vexing, and her lack of respect for her own people repulsive. The only reason she allowed Sera to remain with them was the fact that Leliana and Josephine both agreed that Sera's Red Jenny connection could prove useful in building the Inquisition's reputation for the better. And simply not wanting to involve herself too greatly in anything resembling political or noble affairs, Serana merely consented to the addition their newest archer and let the matter be.
Contrary to the popular belief that all Dalish slept on bedrolls in shabby tents, Serana missed the warmth and comfort of a proper bed. She missed the coziness of her own house, nestled in the trees, all of her furnishings handcrafted by master craftsmen. Serana knew her clan was unlike most, if possibly all, other Dalish clans she had encountered or heard of, and the thought as to why never crossed her mind. Things were simply as they were, and she would not start asking those questions now, not with how full her plate had become in recent months.
Instead, Serana chose to revel in the comfort that Skyhold now offered, pleasantly surprised when presented with spacious and beautiful quarters to call her own, if only temporarily. She stifled a laugh at Cassandra's well-intentioned but misguided attempt to convince her to accept the room, assuming that she, being Dalish, would prefer a simpler abode, perhaps a tent. Serana found the notion amusing, recognizing Cassandra's lack of exposure to her preferences.
Despite the misunderstanding, Serana graciously accepted the space as her own, aware that Cassandra's perspective was shaped by unfamiliarity. In a display of gratitude, she even offered Cassandra a warm hug, bridging the gap between their backgrounds with a gesture of appreciation for the Seeker's efforts, which Cassandra accepted awkwardly.
The sun was shining brightly through the stained-glass windows of her room this morning. She did not have curtains, or any other decorative furnishings yet, but just the feeling of the sun on her skin in the cold of the mountains gave Serana a sense of peace and calm. She felt curious to explore the keep before being thrust into another expedition.
Serana's curiosity extended toward Solas' mysterious knowledge of the keep's existence. She was sure he would suggest he acquired the information from the Fade, as he did with almost everything. It was beginning to grate on her nerves, actually. She knew he was withholding more than he would dare to let on, and she was also sure she was done letting him get away with it. But, first, she would have to get over her thorny aversion to being caught alone with him.
When examining her feelings, Serana knew she cared for Solas, and genuinely liked him as a person. She enjoyed hearing his stories, and listening to his carefully selected words as he recounted them. She relished the way he watched her when she spoke, and the way his gaze intensified in the moments they spoke closely. The occasion of such encounters she could count on one hand, yet the amount of times she replayed them in her mind were endless.
There was also the matter of his confession to her inside the Chantry the night of Corypheus' attack. Not wanting to lose her could be a platonic feeling, but she sensed there was more there, and she found herself earnestly hoping so, as well.
Serana felt as though she could get lost in his gray-violet eyes. Thinking of his face and lips, she felt herself growing uncomfortable, not because she was not used to being attracted to someone, but because it had been so long since she had been intimate with anyone. Knowing that the physical nature of a relationship was not the primary reason for wanting to grow closer to Solas, Serana was still able to recognize that she desired him. And that was perhaps the real reason she kept avoiding the man, although she managed to keep telling herself it was due to his shifty nature.
Lost in her thoughts while exploring the interior of the keep, Serana gasped when she found herself in the atrium beneath the library. Solas, who was sitting at his desk in the center of the room, looked up calmly, surprise flickering across his face before slamming his book shut with one hand.
"Inquisitor," he said, rising from his chair. "I am surprised you have come to see me."
Inquisitor? That better not stick. "Yes. Well," Serana fumbled awkwardly, tucking an errant strand of her silver hair behind her ear. "I did not mean to come here."
Solas arched a brow, smirking slightly before walking around his desk. "I see," he said, leaning on the side of the desk and crossing his arms.
"What I mean is, I was simply taking a walk, and wound up here," she shrugged. "It's a big place, and somehow all these rooms seem to connect. It's actually quite a marvelous structure. There is just something almost magical about the whole place, but anytime I mention that to someone I get an odd look and…" she trailed off, noticing the smirk on his face as he watched her. Rambling, she thought, feeling her face grow hot.
"I know what you mean," he mused, his smile tilting softly to one side. "I feel the magic, as well. It is a marvelous structure, one that has witnessed many changes with the passage of time, no doubt."
"Your friendly Fade spirits tell you that." she quipped, relieved at how easy it was to talk to him. How could I forget that? She had missed their chats and the ease with which she felt unencumbered around him.
His smirk disappeared, but his eyes still held a familiar joviality that made her stomach flutter.
"Yes, actually," he said, his eyes studying her face carefully.
"Well, I'm interested to hear more about that, if you have the time to talk about it." Serana said smoothly, meeting his eyes unflinchingly.
His eyes grew dark, any trace of a smile no longer apparent as he pushed off his desk carefully and grabbed his shawl from his chair.
"You continue to surprise me…" he said, looking down at the shawl in his hands for a second before looking at her and saying, "All right. Let us talk. Preferably somewhere more interesting than this."
They were met with curious glances as they walked alongside each other toward the keep's hidden side entrance. The troops knew of the entrance, and it was regarded as an emergency passage to escape should Skyhold be held under siege. Exiting through the gateway, Solas led Serana down a narrow path of tall trees and bushes with a beautiful array of fruits and berries.
Serana restrained herself from running right up to the bushes, as the sight of such vibrantly colored fruit reminded her of home. She recognized each fruit and felt comforted by the idea of how close they were to the keep.
"How is this possible?" she asked with wonder in her eyes. "I didn't think any of these could survive this cold." Her fingers brushed a small bunch of deep blue berries.
"I believe it has something to do with that magic you feel," he mused, smiling at her excitement.
"They are not poisonous," he said, plucking one of the blue berries off the bush and popping it into his mouth. Plucking another, he offered it to her, holding it up for her to grab.
Feeling emboldened by the setting and his gesture, Serana leaned her face toward his offering, taking it gently between her teeth. The berry burst in her mouth, the juice forming a small droplet at the corner of her mouth. Quicker than her hand could manage to wipe herself clean, Solas ran the pad of his thumb over the blue stained corner of her lip, continuing to trace her bottom lip.
Serana could feel her breathing grow faster, and noticed Solas' breathing matched her own. Her lids felt heavy, and her vision began to blur ever so slightly. She licked her lips, and felt the world begin to spin around her. She grabbed Solas' hand, still poised by her face, and gripped it firmly.
"Solas," she whispered.
"I am here," he said, his voice growing distant before she was enveloped by a familiar darkness.
Solas and Serana walked side by side up Haven's steps. The village was peacefully quiet, and not a soul stirred about.
"Why are we here?" Serana asked, looking around the quaint village with a vacant stare.
"Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you," Solas said, leading her toward the Chantry dungeon.
"Not important enough to come back," she muttered, following him through the dark corridors leading to a corner cell.
Solas stopped in front of the empty cell, all mirth gone from his face. "I sat beside you while you slept, studying the anchor.
"Solas," Serana reached out and gently grabbed his arm.
Turning to face her, his expression grew soft. "You were a mystery," he said with wonder, "you still are." He shook his head lightly and took her hand in his, tracing the anchor's mark with his index finger. "I ran every time test you could imagine, searched the fade, yet found nothing."
He let go of her hand gently, and Serana immediately missed the warmth of his touch, tracing the scar of his burn with her eyes. She watched him as he spoke of Cassandra's suspicion of him and her threat to execute him if he could not produce any results.
"As lovely as we now know she is, I sense that she would have followed through with that," Serana said wryly. "I'm glad you were able to avoid that. And help me… with this," she said, holding out her hand and frowning at the anchor.
"As am I," he said, a frown of his own forming as he looked at her hand. "I agree she would have done what she thought necessary," he added, leading her back outside the Chantry.
Solas recounted his concern for her, a mortal sent physically through the Fade, something unheard of, yet there she was, an enigma for all to decipher should they dare.
His admission of feeling helpless and being prepared to flee caught Serana off guard, but she empathized with him. He seemed to care deeply about the damage the breach would inevitably bring about if it could not be closed. His attempts to seal the rifts on his own were fruitless, and as he watched the rifts grow, he resigned himself to flee, until he saw her close that first rift with his own eyes. The very key to everyone's salvation, laying dormant at the moment in her hand.
"You had sealed it with a gesture, and right then… I felt the whole world change." Solas stood to face her, looking deeply into her eyes.
Between the look in his eyes and his words, Serana felt breathless. "You felt the whole world change?"
"A figure of speech," he smirked.
"Right," she said, closing the distance between them until they were mere inches apart.
"You change… everything," he said, his gaze locking onto hers.
"Solas," she said in a hushed tone.
The air was charged with an unspoken tension—a magnetic pull that neither Solas nor Serana could deny. Solas, his eyes holding an intensity that mirrored the swirling tempest within, remained still as Serana gently cupped his face. Their gazes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. The dream-state breach behind them swirled brightly, flickering shadows, dancing in rhythm with the anticipation that hung in the air.
Serana rose to meet his lips with her own, softly kissing him before noticing his lack of reciprocation. Abruptly pulling back, she turned from him, feeling embarrassed by her sudden brazenness.
Solas grabbed her arm and turned her to face him, his eyes dark with hunger. As he leaned in, the world around them faded into a hushed symphony of desire. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, his warm tongue meeting hers with fervor. They surrendered to the urgency of the moment, a dance of lips that laid bare unspoken desires and a connection that surpassed the limits of the physical realm.
In that moment, the weight of their destinies momentarily lifted, leaving only the raw intensity of the present. The passion between them ignited, a flame that burned with the promise of shared journeys and uncharted realms, a testament to the profound connection that bound them together against the backdrop of a world in turmoil.
Solas pulled away slowly, solemnly shaking his head. "We shouldn't. It isn't right." Not even here," he frowned.
Breathless, Serana cupped his face again, meeting his troubled gaze with a warm smile. "Solas, you don't need to feed me dreamer berries to get me alone."
Laughing at his surprise, Serana kissed the tip of his nose. "Wake up," she whispered with a wink.
Serana opened her eyes, her head resting in a warm lap she immediately knew to be Solas'. Turning to look up at him, she was met with a perplexed expression. He smoothed the hair from her face, shaking his head softly, a small smile on his face.
"Forgive me…" he whispered. "The kiss was impulsive and ill-considered, and I should not have encouraged it."
Serana sat up slowly, her hands resting on his thighs. "You say that, but you're the one who started with tongue," she said coyly.
Solas' eyes widened, before narrowing them. "I did no such thing."
"Ah, I see," Serana laughed. "So, it doesn't count if it's only 'fade-tongue'."
Looking slightly embarrassed, Solas fidgeted under her open leer briefly before clearing his throat. "It has been a long time, and things have always been easier for me in the Fade."
Serana placed a hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Placing his hand over hers, he said, "I am not certain this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble."
"I'm willing to take that chance, if you are, Solas," Serana said without hesitation.
Wrapping his fingers around her hand, he pulled her in closer to him and pressed his forehead to hers. "I… need some time to think. I am not often thrown off by what takes place in dreams."
Pulling away slowly, Serana smiled, ignoring the hint of frustration niggling at the back of her mind. "Well, hopefully you aren't kissing all those pretty spirits you come across in your dreams."
"I don't think such a description can be attributed to spir— Ah…" he said, smirking at his own awkwardness.
Serana stood and began dusting off the remnants of snow on her clothes. Standing to meet her, Solas grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently before letting go.
"I think I will go for a walk. I shall see you at the keep later."
"Don't get lost," she called out after him.
Solas smiled knowingly, his back to her as he walked deeper into the dense copse of trees surrounding Skyhold, his keep.
Well, shit, Serana thought, watching his lithe figure disappear through the trees. In that moment, the realization struck her with a weight she couldn't ignore – she was falling for the one person who guarded more secrets than she could fathom.