~ Nine ~
The tranquil grove was bathed in the soft glow of magic, as Solas and Mythal stood facing each other, their voices echoing in the stillness of the night.
"You know as well as I, Mythal, that they are spiraling into madness. Their insatiable hunger for power is destroying everything we once held dear." Solas said with clear distaste.
The sorceress eyed her friend carefully, noting the way he paced back and forth, his brow furrowed. "We must find a way to bring them back from the precipice without forsaking them entirely." She said gently.
"Tsk. I have witnessed their deeds—their tyranny, their disregard for life. How can you still believe they can be saved?" Solas said, forgoing his pacing to look at her with a pained expression.
"I know the darkness that has taken root among them, but I cannot abandon hope. We must try to save them, for the sake of our people, and for the sake of my daughter." She replied softly, her sage eyes filled with sadness.
Solas, his visage slowly becoming hesitant, said, "I fear that path may lead us astray, Mythal. They are blind to reason, consumed by their desires. Our world is at stake."
"Solas, I know your concerns, but we cannot abandon the hope for a better future. Our world deserves a chance to heal. What you're suggesting would tear all we know apart." Mythal walked up to the worried mage, taking his hand in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
As they continued speaking beneath the ancient trees, their voices carried the weight of millennia-long friendship and shared burdens. The grove bore witness to their conflicting emotions—Solas, burdened by the weight of inevitable choices, and Mythal, embracing hope and the belief that redemption might still be found among her peers. The world teetered on the edge, and they stood together, seeking a solution that would preserve the essence of what remained of their once-glorious civilization.
In the heart of her arcane sanctum, deep within an enchanted grotto, the air crackled with magic as Mythal, surrounded by the soft glow of mystical runes, hastily worked on a spell. The grotto itself was a haven of protection—a sanctuary woven with her own powerful enchantments, guarding against unwanted intrusions.
Mythal's daughter, her eyes reflecting both concern and trust, stood by her side. The air was filled with a sense of urgency as Mythal carefully measured ingredients for a potion, coaxing her daughter to drink it. The potion carried with it an otherworldly shimmer, and as the girl sipped it, Mythal gently led her to a stone altar, helping the girl lay down.
"You will do the people proud," the sorceress said tenderly, stroking her daughter's hair. "You will not be alone, for I will always be with you." She bent down and kissed the girl's forehead, her eyes brimming with tears.
As the potion took effect, the girl's eyelids grew heavy, and she slowly succumbed to a peaceful slumber. Mythal, however, had more to do. With her daughter nestled in a deep, enchantment-induced sleep, she continued her intricate casting, weaving the threads of an ancient rite around the girl's form. The air was charged with a blend of motherly love and the somber recognition of impending doom.
The protective wards set by Mythal to shield the grotto from intruders began to wane, the energy redirected into the spell safeguarding her daughter. Suddenly, distant voices echoed through the grotto—a discordant symphony of anger and betrayal drawing closer. Standing quietly in the shadows, her chief sentinel stepped forward, weapon at the ready.
"They are here," he said gruffly. "What must be done?"
With a grave expression, Mythal spoke to him. "Take her, Abelas. Through the Eluvian, to the place I have shown you. Be ready to guide her when the time comes. Keep her safe."
Abelas nodded solemnly, sheathing his weapon, and gently lifting the girl into his arms.
As the eluvian shimmered to life, Mythal watched as Abelas carried her daughter's sleeping form through the portal.
"Ar lath ma, vhenan." she whispered, her heart contracting painfully as her daughter disappeared from view.
Once the girl was safely on the other side, Mythal turned to face her approaching betrayers. The grotto seemed to hold its breath as the angry voices reached a crescendo.
With a resolute gaze, Mythal unleashed a final surge of magic, obliterating the eluvian and leaving behind only shattered remnants. The once-peaceful cave now bore witness to a silent battlefield—enchanted fragments swirling in the air.
Facing her accusers, Mythal stood tall, her expression a mixture of defiance and sorrow. Her sanctum, once a haven, had become a battleground for the preservation of a daughter's life and the sacrifice of a mother's existence.
The trip to the Winter Palace was proving to be disappointingly uneventful. Serana would have eagerly accepted the intrusion of a band of thieves, or even a rift or two, to take her mind off of her spiraling thoughts. She spent her days sitting quietly on her mare, choosing the freedom of the open air as they traveled. Much to her chagrin, her thoughts lingered against her will on the orb, and the knowledge that Fen'harel had such a tool.
Over the last several nights, all efforts to probe Solas for more information were fruitless. His claims that he couldn't find the same spirit, no matter how much he searched, only served to irritate Serana. She knew he couldn't just summon it on the spot, or could he? She shook her head, refusing to let her irritation negatively impact her feelings for him.
Thinking of the mage, she frowned, turning to look behind her to watch him on his mare; a distant look in his eyes, his mouth set in a grim line. Turning back, her grip tightened on the reins. He'd been behaving differently since they left Skyhold. She thought for sure something was different after their last stroll the night he came back from the Hinterlands, but the difference was not a good one, so far as she could tell.
Any time she would sidle up next to him, he would give her a small smile, a curt nod, and call her 'Inquisitor'. Serana felt blindsided by the sudden shift in his temperament and the way he addressed her; their conversations ceased feeling familiar. Bristling at the thought, she glowered at the possibility that perhaps he simply wasn't ready for anything more than friendship. She didn't know what else she could do or say to him to reassure him that she was completely and utterly willing to take him as he was. Their stolen kisses and quiet moments seemed to sate whatever need he had, but she felt her control dwindling with each intimate encounter.
"Loosen that grip, my dear, or that poor horse will never live to see the day's end," Dorian said, sidling up next to her.
"Dorian," Serana greeted with a faint smile and loosened her hold on the leather straps. She reached down and patted her mare's mane, feeling reassured by the horse's gentle nuzzle in return.
"Trouble in paradise?" He asked slyly.
Serana sighed, turning to look back and feeling her heart drop when she noticed Solas had fallen further back, riding between Sera and Blackwall. She narrowed her eyes at the trio, before noticing the way Sera rode a little too close to Solas. Feeling a burning jealousy course through her, she turned and swallowed dryly.
Serana urged her mare forward, the rhythmic beat of hooves on the path providing a staccato soundtrack to her racing thoughts. The landscape blurred as she wrestled with the unsettling images in her mind – Sera's laughter, Solas's faint smile, and the subtle closeness she envisioned growing between them.
Dorian, ever observant, rode beside her with an arched eyebrow. "Come now, Serana, it's a long journey. A chat might lighten your mood."
She shot him a glance that could have melted stone. "Not in the mood, Dorian."
"Clearly," he replied, undeterred by her iciness. "But you can't keep this bottled up. What's bothering you?"
Serana sighed, glancing back again to find Solas engaged in conversation with Sera, her obnoxious cackling carrying on the wind. A continued pang of jealousy and frustration twisted in her gut.
"It's him," she admitted reluctantly, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "Solas. He's... distant. It's like he's slipping away."
Dorian's eyes flickered with understanding. "Ah, the complicated dance of love. I've seen it before. So, you've fallen for him, have you?"
Serana scowled. "It's not that simple. Something has changed. He's different, and I can't fathom why."
Dorian chuckled, a sly grin playing on his lips. "You know, sometimes, people fear what they desire the most. It's quite the dilemma."
Serana's frustration deepened. "But why? What is he afraid of?"
Dorian nudged his horse closer. "Maybe he's afraid of losing control, of letting someone in too close. Or perhaps, it's more complicated than that."
As they continued their journey, the weight of uncertainty hung over Serana, and the image of Sera and Solas growing closer remained etched in her mind, leaving a bitter taste that hinted at a truth regarding her own feelings that she was reluctant to face.
The horses trotted along the winding path, and the trio—Sera, Solas, and Blackwall—rode side by side, the banter between them echoing through the trees.
Sera chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, I heard this other one about an Orlesian noble who—"
Solas interjected with a raised eyebrow. "Sera, must you really?"
Sera rolled her eyes, dismissing his attempt at deflection. "Oh, come on, Fancy Pants! Let me finish my joke. It's a good one."
Blackwall, ever stoic, listened with a bemused expression. "Alright, Sera. Let's hear it."
Grinning, Sera continued, "Right, so, this Orlesian noble walks into a grand ball, and everyone's all fancy and stuff. Suddenly, there's this loud—"
Solas sighed, clearly impatient. "Sera, not another one, pl—"
"—a loud fart!" Sera burst out laughing, barely able to finish her sentence. "And, get this, he blamed it on the dog! Classic move!"
Blackwall chuckled, amused by Sera's irreverent humor. "Well, that's one way to shift the blame."
Solas, however, looked at her with a faint smile, the weight of his own thoughts hidden behind his eyes.
Sera crossed her arms, pouting. "Oh, come on, droopy-ears! What's got your fancy spirit brain in a knot?"
Solas shook his head, tired of feigning politeness.
"Well, whatever your problem is, you should try laughing more. It's a lot more fun than whatever it is you're always thinking about."
Solas looked at her sharply, his expression devoid of the irritation roiling within him.
Blackwall chimed in, sensing the tension. "We're all here for a good reason. Let's not lose sight of that."
Solas nodded, his gaze lingering on Serana up ahead, before allowing himself to fall back a few feet.
As the banter continued around him, Solas couldn't shake the realization that his growing affection for Serana was a complication he hadn't foreseen. His mission to restore the elven people, the weight of his past, and the dark secrets he carried—these were burdens he had accepted, expecting the journey to be solitary. However, Serana's presence had become a source of warmth and connection, defying the isolation he had built around himself.
The more he cared for her, the more he feared the potential harm his secrets might bring. The revelation about the orb, and a glimpse into his true identity, had created a rift of uncertainty. He found himself torn between the desire to protect Serana from the consequences of his actions and the longing for the solace she unknowingly provided.
The gravity of his emotions weighed heavily on him, threatening to alter the trajectory of his carefully laid plans. Love had become an unexpected variable, introducing both vulnerability and strength. It was a paradox he hadn't anticipated, and the complexity of navigating these emotions added an intricate layer to the already convoluted path he tread. Solas understood that the closer he allowed himself to get, the more profound the impact would be when the truth unfurled. He also understood that Serana was a strong woman, firm in her convictions, and that she would close the door on anything more than a friendship if he did not make a decision sooner rather than later.
Nestling on the outskirts of Halamshiral, the Inquisition party opted to set up camp for a well-deserved rest after their lengthy journey. Josephine efficiently coordinated preparations for their planned entry into the city the following morning. Serana, grateful for the Antivan's adept handling of administrative tasks, expressed her thanks, recognizing the sanity-preserving role of efficient liaising.
Preferring the solace offered by the vicinity of the wooded area, Serana informed Cullen and Leliana of her chosen campsite not too far from the rest of the party. A contented sigh escaped her lips as she stumbled upon a lazy river, sheltered by towering oak trees and discreetly veiled from sight by imposing boulders.
The moon cast a silvery glow over the campsite, illuminating the quiet surroundings. The distant murmur of the lazy river added a soothing undertone to the night. The Inquisition caravan lay scattered, tents pitched in an orderly manner as weary soldiers sought rest.
Near the river's edge, Solas found Serana sitting on a smooth boulder, her silhouette blending with the natural contours of the landscape. He approached with measured steps, the quiet crunch of grass beneath his bare feet. The subtle rustle of leaves hinted at the presence of unseen creatures in the shadows.
Solas cleared his throat as he neared, ensuring his arrival wouldn't startle her. Serana turned to acknowledge him, her eyes reflecting the moonlight's ethereal glow. The air carried a gentle breeze, carrying the scent of damp earth and the subtle fragrance of nearby wildflowers.
"Mind if I join you?" Solas asked, his voice a low murmur that harmonized with the tranquil night. Serana gestured to the empty space beside her, a silent invitation. He settled down on the cool ground, the river's melody serving as a backdrop to their conversation.
As they sat by the lazy river, they found themselves immersed in a quiet exchange beneath the watchful gaze of the moonlit sky. The air around them held a palpable tension, the gentle current of the river seeming to mirror the undercurrents of unspoken words between the pair. As the night wind seemed to whisper, Solas found the courage to breach the silence that had grown like a shadow between them.
"Serana," he began softly, "you seem troubled. Why the silence?"
Her gaze fixed on the meandering river, she sighed audibly, the frustration in her voice undeniable. "And you, Solas? You've been silent the whole journey, wavering between moments of closeness and pulling away. What are we doing here if you cannot decide?"
Solas regarded her with an intensity that spoke volumes. In the moonlit stillness, he could feel the gravity of her words, the weight of his own hesitation. The way her anger painted her features only deepened her allure in his eyes. For a moment, he lost himself in studying the furrow of her brow, the curve of her lips expressing a mix of frustration and longing.
As if a decision crystallized in the depths of his contemplation, Solas moved closer, the distance between them narrowing. In the quiet space between river murmurs and rustling leaves, he cupped her face gently with one hand, his touch tender yet filled with an unspoken urgency.
Their lips met in a kiss that caught her off guard. The warmth of his mouth against hers stirred a cascade of emotions, a mixture of surprise, desire, and a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken. The magnetic pull that had drawn them together grew more pronounced, an admission of a shared longing that begged to be explored.
Solas, typically measured and reserved, found himself yielding to the hunger that mirrored in Serana's eyes. Their lips deepened the fervent kiss, a dance that spoke of uncharted territory and the intertwining of destinies. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, nature itself a silent witness to the culmination of their shared desires.
In the midst of a passionate kiss, Serana's fingers trailed along his bare chest, exploring the contours of his skin. As the heat of their connection intensified, she couldn't help but notice the intricate network of scars that adorned his torso, a testament to the sacrifice he had made during the attack on Haven.
Her touch lingered over the burns, a silent acknowledgment of the pain he had endured. In that moment, a twinge of sorrow passed through her, recognizing the extent of the damage he had sustained while trying to save her. The marks etched into his skin told a story of bravery and selflessness.
Yet, as her fingers traced the lines of his scars, a surge of warmth and affection welled up within her. The burns were not a symbol of weakness but a declaration of affection—his willingness to face the flames for her sake.
The marks on his skin, like a tapestry of devotion, declared his affection boldly. In that revelation, she found a newfound strength in their connection. The scars, once a source of sadness, transformed into a testament to the enduring bond they shared. As the passion between them continued to blaze, Serana reveled in the strength of a companionship that had faced the flames and seemingly emerged stronger.
Her breathing grew heavier at the warmth of his touch, his fingers gliding along her body with shocks of electricity. His hands found her warm center, and he growled in her ear at the feel of her arousal. Her eyes grew dark with desire, and she reached between them, grasping him firmly and guiding him into her. Their kisses became as wild as the hunger they felt, both succumbing to the wanton need that threatened to consume them.
As their bodies entwined beneath the celestial canvas, the heat between them flared, each touch exploring the depths of a connection that transcended the physical. His caress left an indelible mark on her heart and soul, igniting an inferno within, setting her ablaze. With his body, he led her to uncharted realms, unveiling mysteries, dismantling every preconception, and ushering her into a reality that eclipsed even her most extravagant fantasies. In the embrace of the forest, passion unfolded like the petals of a blossoming flower.
The rustle of leaves and the murmur of the night became a symphony to accompany their shared crescendo, under the starlit canopy outside of Halamshiral where love and nature converged in a dance as timeless as the sky above them.