Don't leave

The end of their journey was in sight as they travelled through the Dales. They had all decided that they'd rather not travel over the highway, where they would cross cities. They were all tired from travel and did not want to deal with whatever encounters would await them in cities. The detour through the Dales might take a little longer, but without the holdups of the cities, they might still arrive at Skyhold sooner.

With a few more days of travel to go, they found an established Inquisition camp where they could rest. It was nice to have other people around who could cook and take guard, and it gave them a chance to restock for their final days of travel.

That night Cassandra and Ennaly shared a tent. They both spent some time reading their respective books, until Ennaly once again grew too bored trying to remember what heraldry matched what house. She did get nearly everything right now, so at least she was making progress.

"You know, you don't have to hide your books," Ennaly said when she looked at the Seeker, who always made sure the front of their books faced away. "After all that we've shared and been through, I don't think you have anything to be embarrassed about."

"Oh," the Seeker said, flushing. She closed her book, Varric Tethras clearly visible on the cover as the author.

"I won't tease you, there's no shame in enjoying some stories. We all need an escape somehow. I certainly like my share of stories."

"Don't tell Varric."

"Why not? Do you really not like him?"

Cassandra contemplated. "Like him?"

"Oh. I don't mean like like," Ennaly said, eyeing the warrior. "Not that there would be something wrong if you did."

Cassandra scoffed. "I don't like Varric. It's not that I hate him, necessarily."

"It's complicated?" Ennaly offered with a smile.

"Like you and Solas?"

That made Ennaly pause.

"My apologies, Inquisitor, I didn't mean –" Cassandra started hastily.

"You can just call me by my name, you know. I think we've far surpassed formalities by now."

The Seeker smiled softly. "Well Ennaly, is there something between you? I saw how you danced that one night. It just seemed very romantic, that is all."

Ennaly sighed. "I danced with Hawke too, didn't I? And with Varric, and Dorian, Cullen, Leliana and so many people, really."

"This was a very different dance."

She was right, of course. "Can I get away with saying it was just Elven stuff you won't understand? Because it was, in a sense. It's difficult to explain. Just know that there's nothing going on. It was just a dance."

"Oh. My apologies. I should not have pried."

"It's fine. Duties and responsibilities, right?" she said, repeating what Solas once had said. "We have more important things to worry about."

A moment passed in silence.

"I don't like Varric, but I have come to respect him," Cassandra said.

"That's something, at least," Ennaly replied. "Hey... Tell me about the story in that book. I don't mind hearing about some romance now."

"Oh, you'd have to read it," Cassandra answered eagerly. "There is this guardsman..."

Ennaly smiled, listening to Cassandra's ramblings. After that, they spent some time chatting about men, and she felt like she was fifteen again, half a lifetime ago, sitting with her friends in her mother's aravel, eating honey cakes, chatting and giggling about which boys they had kissed and which they wanted to.

Ennaly awoke with blinding pain running through her body, originating at the Anchor. It flared up and she was sure the light would be visible from outside the tent. The last thing she wanted was for anyone in the Inquisition to see a weakness in her, so she pressed her hand between her thighs, hoping that would block the light.

It didn't help with the pain, though. She cursed and could feel cold sweat forming all over. There were moments before when it ached, but never so intense. Usually, it was short-lived, so if she just gritted her teeth, it might pass soon. But now the pain reached such heights, she couldn't suppress her grunts. It wasn't long before Cassandra stirred.

"Ennaly?" she asked concerned, waking up instantly at the sight of her distress.

"It's the Anchor," she said through clenched teeth. "I'll be fine, I don't want –" she had to stop as another wave of pain overwhelmed her. "Don't want anyone to know."

Some claimed she was touched by Andraste, marking her as Herald. But if they knew that this power was also hurting her, they might as soon turn on her, claiming she was a heretic Elf after all. She couldn't handle that, not when there was still so much at stake.

"Is there something I can do?" Cassandra asked.

"No - no. This will pass... It always does."

As she was fighting another wave, she heard Cassandra mention that she'd get Solas, since he always knew how to deal with this. The words only landed in Ennaly's head after the Seeker left. All alone, she curled in a ball, hand still between her legs, but sparks of energy escaped it. She didn't know how much time passed before the tent flap opened again.

"Ennaly," she heard Solas' concerned voice.

"I don't want anyone to know," she grunted, tears from the pain running over her face.

"Try and drink this," Solas said, handing her a potion.

Unfurling, she drank it. A warm sensation spread through her body. It was a restoration potion, but it did not have the soothing effect it normally had, and she curled into a ball again. Concerned, Solas placed a hand on her shoulder and cast a spell. It only barely calmed the pain.

"Can you give me your hand?" he asked.

Panting to keep down the pain, she tried to reach out her hand, but the pain made her jerk it back when he took it. She'd never experienced anything like it before, both physical and spiritual, like her magical senses were under attack. Solas shushed her, tried to console her, but nothing calmed the pain down to a degree where he could hold her still enough to cast his spell.

When Ennaly recovered from several waves of blinding pain, she found herself sitting with her back against Solas' chest, him looking over her shoulder at her hand. He had pulled a blanket over her to stop her shivering and was casting spells into the Anchor, slowly soothing the ache.

"I am sorry," he said quietly. "I had to keep you still."

"Is this going to kill me?" she asked through tears, watching small green sparks of energy escaping from the mark.

"Not if I can help it," Solas said, his mouth near her ear.

Ennaly saw a few red slashes at his forearm, at the matching distance of her fingernails. "Did I...?"

"No need to apologise. I am fine." She had scratched him once before, on his back, the marks that Bull had spotted the following morning, though she hadn't quite drawn blood then. "Try and relax, I will stop whatever is happening."

"Do you think it's Corypheus? Is he near?" She started to stir.

"Shhh, do not move," Solas shushed. "I do not think he has any power over the Anchor. He tried that already and failed."

"Then what is happening?"

"Either your body is fighting the power of the Anchor, or it is the other way around. Whatever it is, we have to stop it."

"Can you?"

"I believe so. But stop moving, I need to concentrate. There is a phrase you always whisper. Focus on your surroundings. Do that now and ease your breathing. Try and match it with mine, if that helps."

It was the phrase her Keeper always said when she was teaching Ennaly magic. She wasn't aware she ever said that out loud, or that Solas had ever heard it. Focussing on his breathing helped. Ennaly slowly calmed down by slowly breathing in and out and focussing on the soothing feeling from Solas' spells through her palm. Eventually, the rhythmic rising and falling of Solas' chest against her back, together with his chanting near her ear was enough to drive her off to sleep.

When she woke up, hours later, Ennaly felt warm and comfortable. She judged that it must be early dawn, from the faint light that shone on the tent's canvas. It took her a moment to remember anything from last night. Mercifully, the pain was gone. But as she slowly became more aware of her surroundings, she noticed warm breath on her neck, an arm around her waist, and a warm body pressed against her back.

She froze.

She realised she must have fallen asleep when Solas was trying to heal her hand and he must not have wanted to wake her up after that. Perhaps he had been too exhausted from casting his spells, that he had simply fallen asleep in the same position still.

The best thing to do perhaps was to try and see if she could remove herself from Solas' arms without waking him up, dress silently, and exit the tent. It would save them both from the embarrassment of having to face each other.

As she slowly tried to roll away, the grip on her waist tightened as Solas nuzzled at her shoulder.

Alright, that didn't work.

Solas muttered softly in Elven, only audible because they were so close together. "Please stay. I need you. Don't leave."

The words made Ennaly freeze. She could hardly blame him for the actions in his sleep, but did he really mean that? Was he dreaming about something? Were those words for her?

Before she could fully process or consider a next step, she heard a sharp intake of breath and Solas awoke and almost immediately sat upright.

"I'm sorry!" Ennaly said quickly to cover whatever embarrassment there might be, scooting away as far away as she could.

"Ennaly," he said, pale and staring at her like he saw a ghost, completely ignorant of how he just woke up. "I may need a favour."

And so, five companions had set out from Skyhold, had turned to six in Crestwood, to four in the Western Approach, and now to three here in the Dales.

It turned out Solas had been dreaming about a spirit friend that needed help. It made Ennaly weak in the stomach to realize those Elven words he muttered were never meant for her, but must have been whispered to the spirit before it was forced out of the Fade. It was a surprise to see the pride demon, locked in the summoning circle, and then a second surprise to see the beautiful spirit that emerged when they destroyed the stones.

She heard the words Solas and the spirit shared before it died. It was sad. She'd never seen Solas so affected by anything, not even that night after they visited the Dalish camp. Or it was a different emotion, at least. Back then, he had been anguished, but now, he was irate. To see him rage against the mages that started this… She'd seen him break his exterior of quiet, reserved mage before, but not to this degree, the pure hatred turned to power. She couldn't blame him, they'd just killed his friend in their foolish ignorance, but the power of his rage was something to behold.

And then, the look of hurt and rage as he turned to face them. "Damn them all. I need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold." He had taken his horse, climbed on, and sped away. He didn't even seem to hear the words she spoke to him.

"Solas, please stay, don't leave!" She almost added I need you, but managed to swallow it back. All she got in return was watching Solas speed off on his horse, without anything to do to stop him.

It left Ennaly heartbroken, both for the hurt Solas must be feeling, and how he had left her. He had been there from the very start, that first day she woke up after the catastrophe at the conclave. She had to gather all her strength not to start crying there and then. As she was staring at the place where Solas had left, she noticed Cassandra looking at her with sympathy.

Varric, too, seemed to have noticed her mood. "He'll come back, Inquisitor, I'm sure of it," he said. When Ennaly remained standing, eyes still fixed on the spot in the distance, Varric cleared his throat and continued. "I wasn't quite aware of..." He didn't finish what he was saying.

Ennaly turned around sharply. Anger was easier than pain. "We kissed once, alright? One stupid kiss, weeks ago. It meant nothing. I'll get over it."

Kiss. If only it had been a simple kiss, and a simple dance, and both hadn't felt like a primal need for connection. He'd pinned her to a tree. There had been a connection. But to Solas, it must have meant nothing.

Varric placed a consoling hand on her arm and the anger flowed away as quickly as it had arrived. "I wouldn't have written my damn story if I'd known. I'm sorry, Doe."

Deflated, Ennaly forced a smile. After Anarel, and after those Humans, she had vowed never to let herself be affected by men again. "No Varric, continue your story. We were just inspiration, right? Finish it the way you intended to. Now, let's go, I don't want to be here any longer than we have to."

They had three more days of travel to go, and they were the three most dreadful days of travel she'd ever known. They just wanted to be back, so most days were spent in silence. In the evenings, Varric tried his best to cheer her up, even volunteering for a dance, which she greatly appreciated and accepted only to make him happy. And as always, he managed to make her laugh in the end.

The last night before they would reach Skyhold, Ennaly found herself in a dream. It started out with her enjoying a meal with her mother in the Dalish camp, the scent of rabbit and sage stew familiar. Many Elves were dancing around a fire to the beat of drums and flutes, all dressed in earth tones, matching the red and orange of the trees surrounding them. The different singing voices mixed together into a chant. She recognised the place and realised this was the fall festival from one and a half years ago.

Her mother was telling her the story of how she had met her father, and that was something Ennaly could never get enough of.

"How did you know you loved him?" Ennaly asked.

"I just knew," her mother answered, a soft smile on her lips. "I could feel it in my heart. There was nobody that quite made me feel the way he did. I remember an afternoon when we picnicked near a little pond. We had brought a blanket, and after eating, we spent an hour in silence, just sitting together on that blanket, taking in the sight. We didn't need to say anything. We looked at each other again, and I just knew, inside."

Ennaly stared into the flames of the campfire. In it, she could almost see two small figures dancing, surrounded by strings of light. Then she blinked, and the figures disappeared.

"Do you love him?" her mother asked. "The man you are thinking of." She pulled the blanket she was wrapped in closer around herself. It was an old blanket, almost threadbare. Her mother had it for as long as she remembered.

"I don't know," she replied, and could feel something breaking in her chest. "And I don't know if I will ever see him again."

Her mother embraced her. "Oh, sweety. Be careful who you give your heart to. The right man can make you very happy, but he can also make you very sad. I had never known pain quite until the moment I heard I could never hold your father in my arms again. He never got to hold you, never knew the joy you bring. May Falon'Din keep his soul. He lives on in your eyes, da'lath. Our love was short-lived, but oh so bright."

"You always have this to remember him by," Ennaly replied, touching a small carved amulet that her mother always wore around her neck.

Her mother faded into mist, the singing chant echoed away, and the Dalish camp was engulfed in white fog. From the mist, a new landscape formed, unfamiliar and quiet.

Ennaly was near a pond, the branches of a large willow tree extending to the surface of the water. The surrounding meadow was filled with colourful wildflowers, their stems hidden from view by the low mist. It smelled like rain. The place had a forlorn beauty to it, desolate, still, almost haunting, but breathtaking.

Nearby Ennaly, the ground made a steep angle, but the water from the pond flowed along the corner like it hadn't noticed. A little further, on the second plane, a figure was sitting near a large stone.

She took a careful step. The beads on her dress rustled, the first sound to disperse into the atmosphere. Ennaly realised that she was still wearing what she had worn to the fall festival in her dream, layered tunics in fall colours and skirts that reached her mid-calf, everything covered with the skilful embroidery from her mother's hands. Around her waist were braided leather belts, and hanging down were strings of beads, from resin, stone, and wood. Her hair was intricately braided on top, a style she could not accomplish by herself, likewise decorated with beads and feathers, before it flowed over her back, loose. She was her clan's First after all and her attire reflected her position.

"Solas?" she asked, walking to the plane where he was sitting. It was like ascending stairs, but when she stepped, reality flipped with her.

The figure looked up, got to his feet, and raised his hands defensively.

"Away, demon," he spoke.

"I am no demon," she said, wondering if the figure in front of her might be a demon instead.

Both extended their auras, they met in the middle.

"Ennaly?" Solas asked, confused. "You look so different."

"So do you," she noted.

The Solas in front of her was wearing a black tunic of a fine material that absorbed the light, like velvet. It had white billowing sleeves, seemingly lighter than air, cuffed at the wrist in gold. It lightly sparkled with reflections of the ambient light surrounding them, contrasting beautifully with the dark black.

Gossamer silks woven with lyrium, crystals and metals, he had once said to describe what Elven nobles wore in ancient Arlathan. If ever she thought he looked like a king, this outfit solidified it. Had he manifested it in reverence to his lost spirit friend?

They couldn't have looked more contrasting, him dressed in smooth lines, rich fabrics in a beautiful, simple design, form-fitting, as opposed to her rough woven fabrics in earth tones, loosely hung from her shoulders and only shaped by the belts at her waist, with many decorations covering it.

She saw his eyes glide over her outfit with something like fascination. All her talk about the Dalish trying to remember... No wonder Solas thought so poorly of them, because at first glance, they couldn't have looked any further apart. Silly trinkets now replaced the sophistication of lost craft, these beautiful fabrics... And whatever words you could use to describe her dress, elegant would not be one of them. She once had felt good in her outfit, liked the way it rustled when she danced, but now she almost wished she was dressed in the silly Human gown.

"How are you here?" Solas asked in wonder.

"I… don't know. I was just dreaming about a festival, I was talking to my mother, about… It doesn't matter. Then I was here. Did you bring me here?"

Solas stared at her, shaking his head with disbelief.

"Are you okay, Solas?" she asked. She didn't care how she got here. She was just glad to see him. "After what happened, I worried…"

Solas knelt down near the stone again and closed his eyes in pain. "It hurts," he said. "It always does, but I will survive."

Always? Had he lost friends before?

Ennaly stepped nearer. "You don't have to mourn alone," she said softly.

"It has been so long since I could trust someone."

"I know." He looked so vulnerable. Careful, wondering if he'd let her, she walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. The velvet of his tunic was warm and soft. When he didn't object, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. As he was on his knees, he only reached to her chest. After a moment of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, clutching at the many layers of fabric on her back.

She didn't know if he was crying, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to be there for him, to let him know that he wasn't alone. She couldn't imagine feeling so alone you had to mourn the loss of a friend by yourself.

This was the Fade, and time passed differently here than in the real world. Ennaly didn't know how long they were standing there before Solas pulled away.

"Thank you," he said, staring out over the pond nearby. After another moment, he stood up. "This is where my friend used to dwell."

"It is a very serene place," Ennaly replied. It was, the pond, surrounded by the large willow, the flowers, it appeared suspended in time. A little distance away stood a small round stone tower, covered in ivy and topped with a thatch roof. It looked like a broken-down windmill.

"Wisdom requires nurture," Solas continued. "She used to sit on this stone, listening in to the events in the waking world, observing perspectives, but never judging. Without nurture, wisdom grows stale."

"I am sorry she was forced into something other than her nature," Ennaly said quietly.

"I am sorry, too. But she was not always Wisdom. She used to be Curiosity, once."

"I didn't know spirits could change into other spirits."

Solas paused in contemplation. "They can. Change is not always for the worse, like when a spirit's purpose is twisted or denied and turned into a demon."

"What can make Curiosity turn into Wisdom?"

He scoffed derisively, the sound bitter. "War. It denies many spirits their intended purpose. But Curiosity did not twist to Envy or Desire, like others of her kind. She kept her good nature and turned into Wisdom."

They stood next to each other, the stone between them, looking out over the flowery meadow in silence. And it was silent. There was no wind around that rustled the flowers or the branches of the willow. The only movement in this place were little wisps of energy or light drifting by, but Ennaly couldn't tell if those were beings or not.

Solas turned to Ennaly with a solemnity that took her by surprise. "Did the Anchor change you? Has it affected you? Your mind, your morals, your… spirit?"

Ennaly considered the question. He wouldn't use the word spirit lightly, especially not here. What was Solas asking, precisely? Searching for the right answer, she gazed at the Anchor on her hand. The energy in the mark was quiet here, almost content. Had it changed her?

"No," she replied quietly. "I don't believe it has. My spirit is the same as it has always been. I mean, when I was a child I certainly was Joy, which turned into something like Duty in adulthood, but that was long before I got this. I don't believe the Anchor has changed me."

"Ah," Solas said.

"I'm sorry to disappoint," Ennaly replied, surprised by the tone in his voice.

Solas looked at her apologetically. "No, I did not mean… It might have explained matters, that is all."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Which matters?" she asked.

Instead of answering, his gaze gained intensity. To Ennaly, it felt like he gazed deep within her soul, searching for something she did not understand. The purple in his eyes was more intense here, or perhaps his eyes simply reflected the wildflowers around them.

It wasn't long before the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "I can see your Joy shining through at times. Do not let it be turned into Despair."

He held her gaze for a heartbeat more, smiling, before he turned to look over the meadow. "Do you see that, in the water?" he asked, pointing at a spot in the pond. It was barely noticeable, but Ennaly did see it. The water was churning quietly, rippling outwards. "A spirit does not die the same way a mortal does. My friend's energy has returned here. Her ideas were strong, and one day, a new spirit may rise again."

"Can she come back then?"

"No," Solas said mournfully. "She will grow with a different personality and would likely not remember me. She would not be the friend I knew."

"I am sorry."

He looked up and smiled. "I know it may seem strange to you, but I appreciate what you did. That matters to me. You matter."

Ennaly stepped next to him, a little closer, and stared out over the pond, taking in the serenity of this place. "You matter, too."

They weren't looking at each other, but she was deeply aware of his presence next to her, quiet and comfortable. The spot in the pond gained and lost intensity, as if something was breathing slowly.

Moments later, Solas turned to Ennaly, his sleeve brushing her in the movement. "I should not have left," he said quietly.

"It's okay, Solas, I understand."

"How is your hand? Is it still hurting you?"

She smiled and looked at the Anchor. "No, it stopped hurting. You helped me."

"I am glad to hear," he said as a little wisp passed between them. "I expect you are here because I was thinking about you."

Ennaly looked up as the wisp just cast light into Solas' eyes. He was beautiful, she thought, in this place matched him so well. A warmth spread through her chest as she looked at his smile. Was this what her mother meant?

"I was thinking about you, too."

His smile grew. It was a genuine, warm, honest smile. "I will be back at Skyhold in two days."

"I look forward to seeing you again."

Solas took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. "So do I."