Wake Up

The next day they continued to answer Fairbanks' request. They found him in the beautiful, lush forest of the Emerald Graves. The sadness that had taken seed in Ennaly turned to melancholy here, for everything that was lost to the Elves in this beautiful forest.

It was sad that even more war was fought in these lands and drove people homeless.

This civil war between the Empress and her cousin might have started with the blood of Elves in Halamshiral, it now spread to far corners and affected innocent people. There were always opportunist groups taking advantage of the chaos, like the Freemen of the Dales. Every drop of innocent blood spilt was one too many to Ennaly, and as opposed to Anarel, she did care to help. So, as per Fairbanks' request, they weeded out the offenders and offered Fairbanks and the refugees some semblance of stability, while disturbing the red Lyrium trade.

When they found out about Fairbanks' noble blood, that he didn't want to claim, Ennaly was fine with letting it rest. She didn't want to force someone into the life she now partly had to live, where the order of a spoon mattered and the wrong expression to the wrong face meant losing influence.

But then Dorian whispered to her. "We helped him and he wanted to help the Inquisition in return. He can do that much better with a title in front of his name! Orlesians love a good story, imagine what they think when the Inquisition helped a rebel noble!"

For the greater good, then. She gave Clara the evidence of Fairbanks' nobility and bade them all farewell, on their way to return to Skyhold.

"I doubt that's the last we'll hear of him," Ennaly said as she got on her horse.

"He was a rather handsome man, wasn't he?" Dorian mused.

"For a Human," Ennaly and Bull said in unison, but their intonation was very different from each other. Solas just sighed.

She hoped Fairbanks would like the Game more than she did. Although... There was a weird nagging feeling inside her that she had enjoyed the power she exerted over Anarel. Wasn't that what Leliana and Josephine considered part of the Game? If there was one thing she was sure of, was that the Dalish First she'd been half a year ago, would not recognize herself in the Inquisitor she was now becoming.

Their way back to Skyhold was quieter than their way towards to Dales. Ennaly couldn't shake the melancholy out of her mind. In the evenings, Dorian's encouragements to try and involve her in conversation and game fell flat. Even invitations to come and dance couldn't stop her from going to her bedroll early, claiming she'd take the first morning's watch. On other nights when they were near water, she'd spent hours just submerging herself until the numbing cold overtook her musings.

The last evening before they would leave the territory of the Dales found Ennaly together with Solas, gathering food for their dinner. It was the first time they'd been really alone together since the long day at the Dalish camp. They were quiet, mostly, gathering mushrooms and roots and whatever they could find. Ennaly was quite good at foraging in the wilds, skills that her Dalish lifestyle had helped her grow.

She was knelt on the ground, pulling up a bunch of edible roots, when she noticed an irregular pattern ahead. Ivy crept up against what she had assumed was a tree trunk, when she noticed the base wasn't wood at all. It was light grey stone. She tied her satchel with the gathered food at her belt and started to pull the ivy away.

Slowly, a statue started to reveal itself.

"Solas, look!" she called over her shoulder.

Out of her view, she heard his voice. "Did you find something, Ennaly?"

"A statue of a wolf," she said as she pulled more ivy away.

"Those wolves from the Emerald Knights? We must have passed a dozen."

"No..." Ennaly said in wonder. "This is Fen'Harel."

A few seconds later, Solas appeared around a tree. The statue reached his waist, or her head, since she was still on her knees, pulling the last ivy away. She recognized the inset swirling pattern on its flank and traced them with her finger, clearing them of soil.

"We used to have a statue just like this," Ennaly told. "Clan Nomaris had one too, if you remember. There must have been a clan here, once."

"I thought you did not pray to him," Solas said a little apprehensively, but his eyes followed every move her finger made to trace the patterns.

Ennaly continued cleaning the statue. "For everything that you know about the ancient Elves, you know so little of the current ones," she said. "We might not pray, necessarily, but we leave offerings. Requests for protection, or simply appeasement. Statues as these are always placed outside of Dalish camps, to ward off evil spirits and demons."

A low ray of sun crept from behind a cloud and illuminated the little clearing. Diffused by the branches of the nearby trees, the sunlight reflected off the light grey stone of the statue.

"Seems like he appreciates the sun shining on him again," Ennaly said softly. She smiled and turned around, but Solas looked at her with one of his enigmatic unreadable expressions, not saying anything. "My mother loved to tell a story from when I was a young child, five or six years old," she continued. "My magic had just started showing, and my Keeper warned me about the dangers of demons. I was so scared but I knew Fen'Harel warded against demons. For a week, I would hardly leave our statue's side. I'd take my blanket and sleep against the flanks, I'd eat all my meals there. My Keeper had to literally drag me away, before it would have a bad influence on me."

She gave the statue an affectionate pet with the memory fresh in mind, but retracted her hand at the sudden realization of what she was doing. Solas shot her an appraising look. "How did you know you were a mage?"

Smiling, she turned back to him. "What do you think?"

He looked pensive. "I assume it has something to do with dancing?"

"I'm nothing if not predictable." She sighed, remembering. "I danced around, the silly way a child does, and made flowers bloom. Tiny daisies, but still. It was winter. My mother thought they were snowflakes at first. She was so happy when she realized they weren't."

Her smile faded to a scowl. "Don't let Dorian know, I cannot give him this satisfaction. He'll never let me hear the end of it if he knows." Solas smiled faintly as a reply, and that made her wonder... "How did you know you were a mage?"

He looked away, the low rays of the sun outlining his profile beautifully. "I have known as long as I can remember."

There it was again, that hint of sadness that permeated his countenance every now and again. Ennaly wondered if Solas meant that he had no memories of a time when he didn't have magic, or it had always been present. For someone with a diverse skillset as Solas, she wouldn't have been surprised if he had his magic when he was very young.

She didn't ask and instead turned back to the statue. Closing her eyes, she placed her hands on the dirt in front of her. Slowly, she began to pull on the magic within her, from that knot between her breasts. Warmth spread to her hands as she concentrated on her spell and a glow spread between her fingers. At the foot of the statue, small buds spouted from the soil, growing into a patch of small leaves, and blossoming into small white flowers.

They were daisies. It looked like the statue was standing in the snow.

"At least I've done some of my Dalish duties here today," Ennaly said. "This area will once again be warded against demons. Now, after that offering, let's see if he has some answers for me."

After a deep breath, she placed her left hand on the chest of the statue. Kneeled in front of it, she channelled energy through the Anchor. From behind her eyelids, she saw a green glow and knew the magic must be flowing in the swirling grooves she had just cleaned. She tried to reach out with her mind, in the hope of receiving anything in return, a feeling, a spark, a sign, something, anything that could help her understand.

But there was nothing. Defeated, she pulled her hand back and opened her eyes. "It might just be nothing more than a statue after all," she said mournfully. "Or this is simply the wrong God to try and get some understanding from."

Solas picked a small twig from a nearby tree. "Or perhaps you are looking for the wrong signs. You just gave him flowers, did you not?" He held the branch between thumb and forefinger and channelled magic through it. It lit up and turned from brown to green, before it budded at the top. Then, as he stepped closer and presented it to Ennaly, it opened to reveal a purple flower. "He might just give you flowers in return."

Ennaly took it from him. His fingers brushed hers, gently. This time, it seemed accidental. She stared at him, his intense smile keeping her captivated. Where did it come from? Before a blush would creep to her cheeks, she averted her eyes to the flower. Its purple petals were the exact shade of her eyes, more blue towards the centre and purple at the ends.

"It's unlikely that a God would hand out flowers," she said, glancing up again. "I feel like I have already gotten something in return for what I said in the Dalish camp." She touched the scar on her face, the red lines less swollen than they had been. "I'll have to live with this now."

Solas looked at her as if he was trying to read her soul, but softened as he glanced at her left eye. "The scar is not that bad," he said consolingly.

"Easy for you to say, it's not on your face."

"I have my own scars."

"Yes, but yours is tiny compared to this," Ennaly said, looking at the small scar on his forehead. "What happened?"

His eyes trailed from her scar to the curving Vallaslin on her cheekbones. "Magical damage, like yours. It was the side effect of a spell."

"What did Bull say about scars? We faced trouble but stood victorious?"

Solas smiled, his expression honest. Ennaly had the urge to lean forward, put her head on his chest and have his hands on her back. That day at the Dalish... They had touched so much that day. He'd grabbed her arm and she could imagine him kissing her. He'd clutched at her, seemingly distraught, he'd touched her cheek, trailed her collarbone. He'd even carried her back to the camp when she started to sob.

It was as if the rules hadn't counted that day. But instead of a kiss from Solas, she had gotten a kiss from Anarel. Ennaly shook the thought away and placed the flower in her bun, next to the plain wooden pin she'd whittled. Solas looked at, the smile still on his face, and before her emotions would betray her, she turned back to the statue.

By looking at it, a half-forgotten memory resurfaced in her mind. She was nearly dying on a cold cavern floor after she launched the trebuchet that buried Haven, and in her dream, there had been a wolf, had there not?

Suddenly, a surge of magic crackled behind her and instinctively, she grabbed her staff and turned around, ready to attack. The dream left her mind before it could fully form. In the low rays of the sun, a bunny had crossed the forest path. Solas had spotted it, and with a flick of his wrist, he'd send a bolt of ice to the animal, killing it instantly.

"Do not panic," he said as he observed her reaction. "We were gathering food, after all." He walked over to gather the bunny.

"Solas?" Ennaly asked, considering him.

"Yes, Ennaly?" he asked, turning around after picking up the bunny.

"You know, as unpleasant as clan Nomaris was, it did remind me of home. Or what home used to be at least, for most of my life. What is home to you? Where are you from? A village in the north? Are you from Tevinter?"

Solas considered his words carefully. "Those are a lot of questions. But I am from those lands... yes."

There it was again, the expression of sorrowful remembrance.

"Are you an escaped slave?" Ennaly asked timidly.

Solas didn't meet her eyes. "In a sense." He seemed distanced, apprehensive.

"I'm sorry," she replied quietly. "I can't imagine it was easy. I shouldn't have pried."

"Thank you," he said, his face neutral again. "It is natural to feel curious. But... There are some painful memories. I would rather not talk about it."

"Of course," she said compassionately, regretting starting about it. She expected he hadn't had a happy past, or he would have talked about it more often. From his stories, it seemed like he had led a lonely existence, and never truly had a home like she had. She was foolish to mention it.

Having gathered all the food they needed, they returned to camp to prepare it, both seemingly lost in thought, Ennaly's mood once again changed back into melancholy.

"Haven," Ennaly said, as she found herself in front of the large wooden doors. She looked behind her. Solas stood there, giving an encouraging smile.

It seemed so serene. The sun shone softly from beyond a thin layer of clouds and made the snowy ground glitter. Large snowflakes danced down from above, lazy in the absence of harsh wind. It was desolate, their footsteps the only thing to disturb the pristine blanket.

Next to the gates stood all the snowmen that were made during the competition she once hosted. The weird lopsided ones made by the children, the classic snowmen built by the teenagers and adults, the well-proportioned snowman that won the competition and of course Dorian's beautiful halla, unblemished and whole again.

Ennaly had an inkling of where she was and what was going on. A part of her thought to break the spell now, but why should she? She might as well enjoy this a little longer. She looked behind her again and smiled at Solas. There was something different about him. He was always confident with an air as if he was in control of the situation, like nothing could happen to unsettle him. But here, he appeared at ease, comfortable. His movements were a little less constructed, his expressions less revised.

It made sense, really.

She twirled and danced her way towards the halla. Laughing, she touched its nose. It wasn't cold to touch as it nuzzled in her hand. Suddenly, it shook and little ice crystals dispersed into the air. A second later, it reared on its hind leg before it ran in a circle around them and disappeared into the distance. The sunlight illuminated it like a creature made of diamonds, light beams refracting in a kaleidoscope of colours behind it.

Naturally, it did, for here, she could determine what could happen, and bringing a crystal creation to life was easy. As she reached out to remove the improvised hairpin from her hair, she noticed the purple flower next to it. She removed both, tossed the stick aside and shook her hair. Loose hair was often inconvenient, but here, it wouldn't be. Here, she could be free. Laughing, she tucked the flower behind her ear.

She saw Solas observing her with a warmth to his gaze. She wished the real Solas would look at her like this, like she could throw her arms around him and he would accept her. Averting her eyes, she swallowed. But... If she was here anyway, she might as well enjoy it.

"This is amazing," she said, before she danced her way towards the large doors and opened them. She went to the left, Solas following her. "I can't believe how small my hut here used to be," she said. "If I compare that to Skyhold now..."

"Yes, it is rather more suited to the Inquisition, is it not?" Solas said with a chuckle. "With the force it is growing into, Haven would quickly run out of space."

She walked around inside, letting her hand glide over all the surfaces. It was astonishing how real things could always feel here. Who would tell her this wasn't really wood, the blanket on the bed not really fabric?

"Remember when you almost carried me back here from your hut?" she said, walking outside again.

It was rhetorical, yet he still replied, "Yes. You said you didn't need a hero."

She smiled. She'd thought he only offered help out of pity, and she didn't want his pity.

"I lied," she stated.

His eyebrows raised. "You... lied?"

She laughed softly. "To myself. I might not need a hero, but sometimes I want a hero. And you were there, that night, riding in on your shining... Wolf?" She extended a hand towards Solas. "Come, in the tales, the hero always dances with the girl."

Surprised, he looked at her hand, as if he'd never imagined her to offer it. She laughed and shook it in encouragement, and finally, he took it. His hand felt real, warm, and strong. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she knew she shouldn't do it.

Just as everything else felt real here, so did he. The hand in hers, the other at her waist. This time he didn't lead them in a strange dance she could follow from her heart, this time, she led him. She danced the way she used to dance at the Dalish camp, and this near-real Solas followed along with the same grace and confidence as he'd led her.

She laughed. This was fun, light-hearted, without worry of trying to prevent a darkspawn magister from obtaining godhood. He laughed as well. Of course, he did.

The moment was perfect.

There was no music necessarily, yet there was something in the air, a rhythm, a melody, that they could dance in tune to. Perhaps it was the magical flow that was so innate to this place? She didn't fool herself. She knew they were here for her benefit, and the longer she allowed herself this escape, the more power he would gain.

She slowed down. The ambient music did so as well, but she wasn't sure if it was a reaction or a cause. With a strange nervousness, she looked up to find grey eyes already looking at her. "It is good to see you are enjoying yourself again," he said. "It has been a tough few days."

"Well, it is pretty nice here," she said, feeling her heart rate increase.

Soon. It couldn't last much longer. Swallowing silently, she let the sight of Haven wash over her. It was bittersweet to be able to witness it again. The little hut that was once hers, the Chantry, this spot, where she'd once danced in the snow, and over the palisade walls, out of sight for her, was the trebuchet that caused it all to collapse. Her doing.

The tunes in the air tensed and somehow, it ebbed and flowed in rhythm to her pounding heart. She wasn't sure if she was the cause of it. She wasn't even sure if she was the only one to hear it.

She resigned herself to the task she knew would come the moment she realised where she was with Solas. Bracing herself, she looked back at the grey eyes. They carried tenderness, but surely that was only there because she wished to see it. "Shame really. I know what you really are," she said with resolution.

The pupils of the figure holding her dilated. They stopped their dance, but remained close together. Confused, the figure frowned with newfound tension.

She smiled, but didn't feel it in her heart. "You're not really Solas," she said. "You have a lot of nerve, thinking you could deceive me. I think I knew from the start, really. You just tricked me here with lies of comfort. I'm not that foolish."

Its hand, the hand that felt so real, that still rested at her waist increased its pressure on her. "What am I then, according to you?" the figure asked in an unsteady voice, perhaps ready to lash out its attack.

Curious, Ennaly observed the figure in front of her. She could do so now without the fear of blushing, even if they were so close. It looked so real. The eyes even carried the purple specs she noticed a few nights ago. Yet now, they held an emotion she had never seen in them before. Fear?

She smiled. They were in her power now, not its, since she had figured it out. She released her hand from its back and gently reached out to touch its face. The figure didn't flinch away, but its eyes widened, its breath held. Her fingers grazed the ear and trailed over the jawline, gliding down over its sternum, over its chest, where she gripped the leather cord that held the wolven jawbone. A promise, he had said. The creature was good. Its breath turned irregular as her fingers glided over its skin, like she expected the real Solas would.

But the real Solas wouldn't have let her. The real Solas had pushed her away. All of this was only perfect so this... creature could lure her in.

Whatever ambient tunes there had been, were gone. All was quiet now, the only discernible sound the unsteady breathing. She frowned. "I don't think you made a perfect copy," she noted. "The real Solas' doesn't have shoulders this wide."

The eyes fluttered wide open. "What do you think I am?" it asked, bewildered and confused.

"It's obvious," she replied, giving a small tug on the leather cord she was holding, forcing the creature to bend down and make their eyes meet at the same level. But it wasn't the eyes that interested her. She looked down at its mouth, the lips slightly parted. Did she dare?

Why not. She thought about it so often. Fascinated by her own daring, she leaned in, just a little closer, and placed her lips on its.

It was a short kiss, the lips surprisingly soft. It was all she could allow herself, or this would be the last thing she ever did. As she pulled away, the figure looked shocked and unwilling to release her, like the last thing it had expected was for her to kiss it. Unsteadily, the hand on her waist moved to the small of her back and pulled her closer, their bodies now touching. The figure leaned back in again, clearly intent on returning the kiss. Naturally, it would.

She could feel its breath on her skin, but before their lips could meet again, she spoke. "You are a desire demon."

The figure halted, its breath suspended. The hand on her back fell away and the body that was pressed against her leaned back to reveal a look of incredulity. "You think I am... A desire demon?"

She forced a smile and released the leather cord. The figure steadied itself after the sudden release, but kept staring at her in disbelief.

"It's so clear," she said. "You lured me here with false comfort, wearing the skin of the man I desire. I know the real Solas doesn't return my feelings, and I have made my peace with that... But this, what you're doing, tempting me, is cruel, really, trying to lock me in a perfect dream. But I've seen right through your lies. I won't let you possess me."

A sense of pride swelled up inside her. She had figured out the demon's plot, and surely, it would explode in anger now, leash out, and assume its true form. It wasn't long before she would wake from the comfort of her bedroll. This was the Fade, the dreamworld, and no demon had power over her unless she allowed it.

But the figure didn't lash out. It remained immobile, taken aback, and at a loss for words.

And suddenly, a feeling of dread fell upon Ennaly. She took a step backwards, suddenly horrified.

"Ennaly..." he said, full of wonder and puzzlement.

"No," she replied in denial, starting to feel mortified. Horrified, she stared at the grey eyes. Did they not belong to a desire demon after all, was she wrong? Had it all felt real, because it was real?

Gods, she had made a fool of herself.

Embarrassed, she wanted to get away, leave this place, and she turned around, when a strong grip on her arm prevented her from moving.

"Ennaly, wait," Solas called.

Her feet felt weak, and she doubted that even if she could pull away, they would carry her. Helpless, she turned around to look at him.

"You toyed with me," Ennaly accused, her voice heated, hurt. She was angry, confused, horrified, but also felt betrayed. Dangerous emotions to have while in the Fade.

"Ennaly, please..." Solas begged. "I never meant... Let us talk, after you wake up."