Epilogue: Haven
It was springtime in Haven. Ennaly sat on the grass, her back against a giant tree bearing fresh green leaves, basking in the caress of the late afternoon sun. It was the golden hour, the surrounding snow-capped mountains glowing in the sunrays.
When she arrived here, Ennaly had needed a moment to realise this was Haven. It was devoid of any structures, no little wooden huts or walls, not even a stone left from the Chantry building. But she recognised the shape of the surrounding mountains anywhere. She surmised that the location of the tree must be where Solas' hut had once been. Somehow, it looked familiar, even if she was very certain no such tree had ever been present in Haven.
With some curiosity, she extended her left arm, or what remained of it. The bare arm ended just where her elbow would have been. A delicate bracelet of golden rings encircled her biceps, decorated with ironwood beads like they were gemstones. Her mother had carved them, depicting the Gods of a false pantheon.
She had been trying to teach herself new magic, never fully succeeding, but here, she knew she could manifest what she wanted. After a deep breath, she focussed on the magic within and around her, and channelled it through the beads on the bracelet. Hardly a second passed before they lit up, and another second later, branches sprouted from the wood, twisting, curling, and growing, extending into the shape of her lost arm.
It was almost a thing of beauty, more elegant than a sylvan, delicate but strong. She smiled. It was more refined than anything she had managed in the waking world. Carefully, she flexed her fingers and then clenched them into a fist to test her strength. If she closed her eyes, it felt nearly indistinct from a real arm.
Satisfied, she raised it against the sun and let the rays filter through the ironwood fingers. She appreciated the sight for a few moments before she dropped the fully-formed arm back into her lap. She would get there, eventually, in the waking world.
A sadness settled within her. How long ago had it been since she lost it? She no longer carried the Anchor and with it, her connection to Solas had been lost. Or it should have been, she thought. In fleeting moments during her dreams, she could fool herself in catching glimpses out of the corner of her eyes, of a white wolf gazing at her from far away. But every time she tried to reach out, tried to get nearer, the wolf would vanish, slipping beyond reach.
If he was there, he did not want her to see him.
From the shadow side of the tree, a branch snapped. Ennaly sat up straight, her breath held, alarmed. She had thought she was all alone here.
But she wasn't. She could sense his presence like a subtle ripple through the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. Like herself, he sat with his back against the trunk of the tree. She didn't need to extend her aura to know the truth of it. There was something in the air, a rhythm that mirrored his breathing, a rhythm that her own breath had fallen into. Or had his breath adjusted to match hers?
Breath held, she felt her heart race with anticipation. Confusion pulsed from the other side of the tree as he held his breath as well. Even without the Anchor, some innate connection lingered between them. Perhaps they weren't fully out of tune after all.
A smile crept onto her face, before she exhaled. He did the same.
She took one last look over the surrounding mountains, resolute on her next action. Focus on your surroundings, her late Keeper always said. Magic was effortless here in the Fade, once she knew how. Power flowed like a sudden fog rolling into a valley, extending from Ennaly.
A sense of surprise emerged from the other side of the trunk. Ennaly rose gracefully and stepped aside. Aware of the ground under her feet, she knew where to step without tripping.
"I know you are here," she said, her voice hoarse, but gaining strength as she spoke. "And I know you don't wish me to see you. But there is nothing to see now, not you, not me."
Some people feared darkness, feared the unseen, but she found a serenity in it. With the loss of her vision, her other senses became heightened. The snap of twigs under his feet as he rose. Footsteps approaching through the sparse grass. A whiff of his familiar spiced scent.
She couldn't suppress a smile. "You keep visiting me," she stated quietly, tilting her head to where she knew he would be.
"And sometimes you visit me," he replied, his voice deep and smooth just like she remembered. She had missed it so much.
The words made her pause. She was no dreamer. She couldn't direct her dreams towards him. At least... Not since they abandoned Skyhold and she lost access to the ruined garden. She had tried to find other places where the Veil was thin, but she had never met him in her dreams.
A soft, short chuckle escaped Solas. She had sorely missed that sound, as well. Even without reading her face, he could read her mind. "You are unaware of your own abilities." He let out a sigh.
"I… I thought I was never successful," she confessed.
Another chuckle. Pride was audible in this voice as he replied. "You are stronger than you think. You have always been."
His voice came from nearby, even if she couldn't see him. Was it his breath she felt on her face? Would she be able to touch him, if she lifted her hand?
She decided against it.
"You still harbour admiration for my paintings, I notice. Like many others, I presume this one is since destroyed."
Ennaly felt a rush of confusion at his words, until her awareness caught up with their surroundings. They were in Haven, and a memory resurfaced of the first time she visited his hut. There had been a painting on the wall over his bed. That must be why this tree had seemed familiar to her.
"I always have," she murmured quietly, her voice gaining strength as she tilted her head upwards. "Solas?"
"Ennaly?" His voice was filled with emotions, but she couldn't discern which. Longing, hesitation, fear? It was hard to distinguish them without seeing the tilt of his jaw or the expression in his eyes.
She took a resolute breath. If she had this chance, she needed to use it. "You know I am searching for you, Fen'Harel. Not here, but out there, in the waking world."
"I know." It was such a simple statement.
"And I will find you." Her words were more a promise than a threat.
"I have always admired your perseverance."
Her perseverance? She had made a promise to protect her people from the Dread Wolf, from him. Why make a promise if you don't intend to follow it through?
"Do you not think that I will succeed?" she asked. She must succeed. Sometimes, failure just wasn't an option.
"I do not doubt that you will."
Of course, he didn't. "Do you not want me to?"
He took too long to answer. It was all Ennaly needed to know that her efforts wouldn't be in vain, that there was a chance of success. "I walk the din'anshiral," he said finally in a steady voice. "There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become."
Ennaly swallowed, unsure if she was frustrated or sympathetic. A part of her wanted to confront him, to yell at him to stop his plans, to think back at the wonderful things they had done during their time at the Inquisition. Their dancing, the evenings at camp with their friends, the games, the laughter, their practice of magic, even the nights they had spent falling asleep in each other's arms.
But she shouldn't, and she wouldn't. For if she did, she had no doubt that it would be mere seconds before she would wake up with a gasp.
The other part of her understood him. Was he so overcome with guilt, intent on fixing his past mistake, that he didn't care about his own survival? She knew a little about survivor's guilt. Nothing to his scale, of course, but she was no stranger to it.
In a small room surrounded by her friends, she had vowed to find him. To whisper in his ear, and change his mind. She couldn't do that with force, only with patience, and a new thought dawned in her mind. He claimed he did not want her to see what he would become. But that was the future, not the present.
Perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps he didn't want to hide himself from her, perhaps he wanted to shield himself. Perhaps he didn't want to see the look in her eyes, the pain, the hurt, that he was inflicting, or even the love she still felt.
Because for some damned reason, after he had lived longer than she thought possible, he had fallen in love with her, and just like her feelings, his hadn't yet fully faded.
Faded.
She took a deep breath, and exhaled. She could feel her breath dissipate on the man in front of her. Her next breath trembled on her lips, as she hesitantly extended her hand to place it on his chest.
He let her.
It was almost a surprise.
But should it have been? Solas had never been a very touchy person, but as they had given in to their love, he had appreciated her closeness and had liked proximity. Evenings in the camp, him meditating and her studying from books, using his leg as a pillow, and dreams in the Fade. They had spent so much time just sitting together in each other's arms, with only a sparse word shared between them. Their touch had been a comfort for them both.
There was no armour, nothing cold and hard to guard him from her touch. Instead, he was wearing something soft, velvety, warm as it always had. And out of all fabrics, velvet was the most tactile. Had he worn this for her benefit? She doubted the real Solas would be clad in velvet, wherever he was, on his din'anshiral.
"You are not there yet, Solas," she whispered. She looked up and could imagine his eyes, like onyx in the darkness, gazing down on her. Could he imagine hers, purple and blue?
With a soft rustle and displacement of air, a hand found its way towards her face, caressing her hair. She had cut it, just after her decision to disband the Inquisition. It fell to just above her shoulders, the curls tighter now that there was less weight pulling them down. He twisted his finger around a curl, letting it bounce up as his finger trailed down over her neck, to her shoulder.
The touch was more tender than she had anticipated it could be, and she had to swallow to collect herself. "I wish the world we wanted to save was the same one," she whispered, fighting to keep her voice steady, not daring to let her vulnerability show. If she let her guard down, the emerging emotions would sweep her away.
She and Solas were both burdened by a sense of responsibility for their people, him for the future his people had been robbed of, her for the future that would be taken away from hers if he succeeded. Their goals were a direct opposite.
"I wish it was, vhenan," he whispered in return, trailing his fingers down over the bracelet on her real arm onto her the ironwood extension without hesitation or surprise. His fingertips resulted in a tingle, enhanced by the latent magic in the ironwood.
Ennaly had to force herself to think about her mission, rather than his touch. "If you know that I am set out on following you, think about me, please? Leave me paintings or frescos to find."
He chuckled a little dryly, his fingers slowly descending down her arm. It wasn't the same as skin against skin, but the magic translated his touch just the same. "What is it you want to see? Cities? Temples?" It was said just wry enough, as if he was only entertaining the idea.
While Ennaly would certainly be interested in those, that wasn't what she needed. She had a plan, after all, and a smile spread over her lips. "I have never been a city girl. You know that. And temples? Well..." She took a deep breath, clenching the hand on his chest. He felt so real. "My roots are still Dalish, and you know what that means."
This time, his chuckle was earnest, almost a little fondly, as his fingers trailed over her wrist to her wooden hand. "You would like me to paint more trees."
She couldn't help a small laugh after that, and briefly leaned against him as she tilted her head back. "Yes, Solas, paint me trees. Interesting trees from your memories, or from the Fade, or whatever you encounter during your travels... in the waking world."
That was what she needed him to see. That there was enough beauty around, that there was something redeemable in this world, and by extension, in him. She knew that he was likely aware of her intentions, but it hardly mattered. The seed was planted in his mind.
He didn't reply, but instead lifted her ironwood hand to his lips and kissed it where the Anchor used to be. Her magical skin translated the touch of his lips so well it almost ached with the memory of tender embraces. Even so, she laughed, releasing some of the tension she felt. He wanted to lower her hand, but she wouldn't have it. She might be pushing her luck, but couldn't resist. Their hands still entwined, she raised them both above her head and spun under it, as if they were dancing.
He laughed as well, even if it was short. Surprisingly, he allowed her to pull him along. A string of magical light flowed around them, dim even in the darkness, hardly illuminating, but Ennaly thought she caught a glimmer of a silver eye.
Sometimes, love wasn't enough, yet she would use hers as ammunition to try and stop Solas. This was just the start. She knew that after this moment, she would meet him again, in weeks, or months, but hopefully not years. And at every meeting she would nudge a little closer, searching for a way to change the Dread Wolf's heart.
But right now, she didn't have to think about it. This was just the first step, and there was nothing more she could do. Right now, they didn't have to be Fen'Harel and the Dalish mage. Right now, they could just be two Elves finding comfort in each other.
Yet Ennaly knew that this was just a dream. And beautiful as it was, eventually she had to wake up.
Author's Note: Last chapter was the game's end, but this is my end, inspired by the few lines in the game's epilogue. Oh man, I have so many feels about this. I hope you have enjoyed the ride, those that read along as I posted, and those that will read this after the story is already completed!
It feels bittersweet to finish it. When I was younger, I just used to write a lot but never actually finish anything (let alone post). Finishing feels awesome! I swear, clicking the "post" button will be one of the best feelings ever. For someone who hasn't really written that much in 10 years, besides heaps of DM notes for DnD games, this made me fall in love with writing all over again.
I will sorely miss Ennaly. She has been akin to a dear friend for almost a year. I cannot wait for DA:D to come out, and when it does, I'll be here to write the sequel to this. If I don't like whatever the game will provide us, I'll make up my own story. I have a perfect setup with this epilogue and already many ideas brewing in my mind!
Besides her story, I have several other story ideas, and some chapters written. I am developing something involving a sarcastic female Hawke, from a desire to explore a different type of character than Ennaly. I've replayed DA2 not too long ago, and I just really love Seneschal Bran (and for me, he really works with a purple Hawke). I have learned to mostly finish stories before posting, to allow myself to add details in earlier chapters that will foreshadow parts of later chapters. So for anything multi-chaptered, I'd likely need quite some time.
I would love to hear your thoughts on my story. I'm open to constructive criticism if you have any, no matter if it's 5 months or 5 years after the posting date!
I look forward to seeing you again in the future, either on one of my next stories, or perhaps one of yours, if you write as well. Regardless, have a lovely day 3