Hope
Ennaly's next moments – seconds or minutes? – were a whirlwind of noise, flashes of light, and the overwhelming sensation of being swept away. She clung to Solas, too frightened to look around, fearing she might see a ballroom full of stone people frozen mid-dance. But through it all, the pressure of his hand on her back, holding her close, remained constant.
Then, abruptly, the chaos ceased. Nothing more than the sound of a night bird's song pierced the silence. The sweet scent of jasmine filled the air, and memories of Vesta's perfume flooded her mind. Panic started to rise, but she forced herself to remember. Vesta was dead. Ennaly had killed her, rendering her unable to ever taunt anyone again.
As her heart quieted, she became acutely aware of Solas' close presence. His hand still lingered on her back, even if he no longer held her tight. She could feel his eyes on her, and she swallowed. She had longed for this moment for such a long time, to see him, the real him, in the flesh, but it was nothing like she had imagined.
Uncertain, she steps away from him, her gaze fixed on the ground. His hand fell away from her back, but Ennaly wasn't quite sure how that made her feel. A soothing breeze brushed her skin, and finally, she could accept that she had escaped the mansion. Avoiding Solas' gaze, she slowly looked around. Solas' Fade-step had grown powerful enough to bring them into this serene spot, who knew how far away from Vesta's body.
Across a green lawn stood a three-story mansion, light spilling through a gap in the curtains on the second floor. Was it the house they just escaped from? It appeared so peaceful.
"Where are we?" she gasped.
"We are still in Vyrantium," Solas replied gently.
At the sound of his voice, Ennaly turned to face him. His eyes were on her, sorrowful in an otherwise calm and collected face. Calmer than she would have expected from someone who just saved her from likely death. It was just him shielding himself from emotions, she knew. She had never gotten quite so adept at it as him.
But his face was unchanged. He hadn't even gained a new scar or scratch. It was as if no time had passed between now and when he had taken her arm, those few years ago.
"Dorian has taken temporary residence inside," Solas said after a short pause.
Dorian?
Ennaly's eyes widened as she processed his words. Full of hope, she turned around to look at the house. Was Dorian there, at the other side of the curtains? Not daring to be relieved, she took a few tentative steps towards the house. But before she could move further, a gloved hand grasped her arm, preventing her from moving. Startled, she spun around.
In the unexpected movement, the knife that she still clutched in her hand scraped against Solas' bracer. He glanced at it, but his eyes betrayed no emotion. Yet he didn't release his grasp. "When you step off this platform, he will be alerted to intruders."
She heard what he didn't say. And then I will be gone. "How do you know all this?" she asked with begging eyes as she moved away from the platform's edge.
A wry smile spread on his lips, and he released her arm. His eyes flickered towards the knife in her hand, but while she had complete confidence in Solas, she didn't feel safe enough in her surroundings to release the one thing she could consider a weapon.
But she understood Solas' silence. It was a foolish question to ask how he knew all of this. He must have countless sources, and even countless more senses to gather information. And none of those he was willing to share with her.
"Ennaly, I must go back," he said resolutely. "I understand if you do not wish to wait, but if you do, I shall return in fifteen minutes."
"Go... back?" Ennaly echoed, uncertain what he meant.
His eyes burned with a calm fury she knew was barely restrained. She was glad she wasn't on the receiving end. "I cannot allow their actions to go unpunished," he said, the anger seeping into his words. "It was never my intent for you to suffer like this, for them to use you to get to me. I need to make the next fool who contemplates such acts reconsider."
It wasn't the first time that Ennaly thought that he looked like a formidable and intimidating foe, even despite his contained posture. Or perhaps it was because of it.
He was going to send a message, she realised. Vesta's final look of pain flashed before her eyes. Would Calvus have found her by now, crying while cradling her body? Did he deserve to die?
Calvus had clearly disagreed with Vesta's actions, but he hadn't stopped her. He might have saved Ennaly from Timeus' cruelty, and yet he didn't understand that Petras would suffer the same.
When she first met Dorian, he had also failed to see the wrongness in keeping slaves. She found it hard to imagine him ignoring an assault like Calvus, but then again, she hadn't known him back then. And he had changed his views over the years.
It's easy to assume a person's fault is born from malice, Dorian had once said. But often it's a matter of ignorance. I should know, sadly.
Ennaly knew she could never condemn or kill Calvus. But in his fury for what had happened to her, Solas might.
She didn't know what he was capable of. She didn't know what kind of message he intended to send. She contemplated saying something to him, but when she saw his determined look, she realised that this was not her revenge. She had taken that when she killed Vesta. This was Solas' revenge, and she didn't think she had the strength to stop him.
When she remained silent, he simply lifted his hand and traced his gloved fingertips along her jaw in a gesture that felt like a goodbye. Before she could blink or speak, he vanished, leaving behind nothing more than a disturbance in the Veil.
Ennaly took a shuddering breath, feeling the lingering warmth of his touch on her skin. And suddenly, she found herself alone, veiled by the quiet darkness of night. Both moons hung in the sky, their silvery illumination bright enough to see by. It reflected off the gauzy fabric of her gown like the surface of the lake, except where the blood had seeped into the fibres.
The silence was unsettling, too stark of a contrast compared to the horrors of her dining room prisons or the Elvhen cellars below the mansion. Images of Vesta on the floor flashed before her eyes, joined by Calvus' sad look, Taria's scream, and Petras' terror. The echo of Timeus' fingers on her skin. The children in their bed.
An overwhelming urge to scream flared through her body, but she managed to suppress it, forcing herself to take deep breaths to calm down. A minute later, she opened her eyes. It would be easy to surrender to her emotions, but she pushed them away. A part of her was angry at Solas for once again leaving her after ensuring her safety, as he had done in all her dreams.
But he hadn't left her helpless. Ennaly glanced at the mansion. According to him, Dorian was inside. It would be easy to step off this platform. Dorian would be alerted of intruders and come rushing out, only to see her. It was tempting, to know that he would scoop her into a hug.
Yet, if she did that, she would lose the chance to speak to Solas.
He had said he would return in fifteen minutes, and it was only now that Ennaly realised the power he had given her. A few of those fifteen minutes had already passed, but the majority remained. If she met up with Dorian, they could plan. Lay a trap for Solas, to prevent him from continuing his plan.
Wouldn't it be foolish not to try? Didn't she owe it to this world, to prevent whatever violence was to come?
Ennaly sank down onto the wooden floorboards and cursed silently. Damned be Solas' and his arrogance, knowing she wouldn't betray him. Knowing she would patiently wait because she clung to the hope that she could make a difference.
He knew, because he had seen her dreams.
Or nightmares.
Frustrated, Ennaly sighed and lowered her head. She couldn't be mad at Solas after he just saved her from that dreadful place. Whatever he was doing now, he did to protect her, too. All she could do was wait.
Seconds turned into minutes. As time passed, her frustrations dulled away, to be replaced by haunting images of what had happened in the mansion. She was still without her magic and without her arm. Feeling insignificant, she clutched the knife close and closed her eyes.
A night bird sang a beautiful song nearby. Other flowers joined the jasmine in spreading their scent. Moonflower growing against the garden wall. Evening primrose in the edges of the flowerbeds. The cold, gentle breeze carried something melancholic, like a fragment of wind through the sails of an aravel.
And slowly, Ennaly calmed down. If Solas trusted her not to set a trap, she would trust him to return.
Time passed and it might have been five or fifteen or fifty minutes when a shimmer in the Veil announced Solas' arrival. If Ennaly wasn't attuned to magic, she might have missed it. There was no loud bang, no heavy footsteps, hardly an audible breath... He just suddenly stood there in the centre of the gazebo like he belonged there, his gilded armour diffusing the moonlight, the enchantments contorting the reflection.
His gaze was fixed on the house and his fingertips shimmered with contained energy, no doubt ready to counter a potential trap. It wasn't long before he realised there were none.
"Did you really think I'd leave?" she whispered, her voice barely carrying through the night.
Solas turned with fluid grace, his eyes locking on hers. A soft pink on his cheeks was all the indication of what he had just done. She was unable to look away, but she didn't want him looking down on her. Slowly, she rose to her feet, his eyes following her every move.
Of course, with her shorter height, he still looked down at her, but that was nothing she hadn't come to expect. He was even slightly taller than he had been, now his feet were encased in boots.
"I would not have blamed you if you had," he replied, his voice calm, betraying none of the atrocities he must have just committed.
His eyes darted away from hers, towards the knife in her hand. Did he think she would try to harm him? And suddenly, the knife was too much. All this time it had given her courage, but it twisted into a symbol of all that had happened to her.
Wanting to get rid of it but not wanting to make a loud noise, she lowered it to the floor and stepped away from it.
Solas took a step closer to her. "After all that they did to –"
Ennaly looked up and shook her head before he could finish the words. The compassion in his voice was too much for her to bear. Feigning strength was easier if she kept her emotions at bay, but she wasn't sure how long she could keep pretending. Giving in to his compassion would only cause her facade to crumble.
He must have realised it. He knew her well, after all.
"Ennaly..." Solas said soothingly, lifting his hand in an attempt to comfort her.
"Solas," she interrupted, her voice hollow and reprimanding, begging him to stop. Crying would mean showing a weakness she wasn't willing to reveal. She forced herself to keep looking at him, to fake her strength enough until she would come to believe it herself. Tears never solved anything.
He exhaled quietly, respecting her wish not to be consoled by him. "I can remove the collar," he said instead.
Not trusting her voice, she nodded. Unsure what it would entail, she watched him remove his gloves and tuck them behind a belt. Swallowing, she couldn't keep her body from tensing up as Solas stepped in front of her.
"Stay as still as you can," he said quietly, trying to reassure her. "It will not hurt."
Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't have been able to reply.
Solas reached out towards her neck, pausing just above her skin. He didn't quite touch her as he placed his thumb and forefinger on the collar, lifting it gently away from her neck.
Silently, she stared up at him. All his focus was on the collar, allowing her to look at him without the scrutiny of his gaze. Moonlight highlighted the scar on his forehead. He was close enough to count his freckles. His breath against her skin was painful, and comforting, and cruel, and wonderful all at once. And even before he channelled his magic, her resolve began to crumble.
There was no flash of light, no whispered word, nor sound of magic. She remained motionless as the metal collar turned to mundane stone.
Solas' fingers brushed her neck, catching the heavy collar to prevent it from cutting into her skin. She swallowed as the sensation of his skin against hers brought forth memories.
His fingers trailing down her arm that night in the Dales when they woke up from that cursed dream, tender but hesitant, as if he was afraid that she'd slip away from his grasp. Lips crushed against hers with a hungry need, or his embrace as he consoled her when her clan was killed.
A tear rolled down her neck, landing on his finger. Solas didn't blink, his lips set in a tense line of concentration as he commanded a second surge of magic into the collar. The stone broke cleanly in two, and he tossed the pieces aside as if he hadn't just destroyed an invaluable magical artefact.
Ar lasa mala revas, he could have said again, but he kept his silence.
Ennaly gasped a lungful of cold air as the weight of magic pressed upon her. It flooded her senses, rendering her dizzy. Slowly, it settled down, returning a lost part of herself. It was almost a happy sensation, but it only coloured the events of the night crueller, now she truly appreciated what Vesta had taken away from her.
The knife in her chest, that little gurgle as the blood bubbled in her mouth. Eyes that dulled as the light left them. The poor slave who lost her life.
She began to tremble, and if Solas hadn't reached out to steady her, she would have fallen down. And despite her resolution to remain emotionally shielded, she leaned forward and buried her forehead in the wolf skin tied around his shoulder, allowing herself to sob.
Gently, he wrapped an arm around her. When her sobs showed no sign of reducing, his second arm joined the first.
And slowly, she calmed down.
"I have done terrible things," she muttered when her sobs were spent. "I almost perverted a spirit. I used blood magic. I've killed someone. Up close. I've never done that before, seeing the light leave her eyes."
It was hypocritical, perhaps, to lay that much focus on one death while she had killed countless foes in combat.
Solas gently pushed her away, far enough so he could look at her. "She forced your hand. It was her own folly that led to her end, not your will. You merely reacted to the circumstances they pushed upon you."
Taking a shuddering breath, Ennaly leaned back, her hands still on his chest. "But revenge is never the answer, Solas."
"An act of desperation is not equal to an act of revenge," he replied softly.
Ennaly frowned, and leaned further away, breaking the touch between them. How could he speak as if he knew what had happened? "You weren't there," she stated a little sceptically. "How do you know what happened? How did you know where to find me?"
Solas took a moment to contemplate. "A spirit of Hope found me," he said finally. "It told me it was there with you. I came as quick as I was able to."
"Hope?" Ennaly repeated, surprised. The little spirit that helped her, that she almost twisted to Despair by setting it an unachievable task, had helped her a final time by telling Solas.
She tried to scoff, feeling like she hadn't deserved its help, but it came out as a sob. She averted her eyes, staring at her toes and the blood-stained hem. The spirit had been able to read her deepest emotions, then. Feeling another tear run down her cheek, she wiped it away.
Her fingers stained purple as she looked at them. "Gods…" she muttered in realisation. "Here I am, talking about revenge with the fake Vallaslin of Elgar'nan on my face. Well, that's probably more an insult to you than it is to me."
She tried to wipe away at her cheeks and forehead, wanting the offensive lines gone, when Solas stepped closer and gently took her hand. He made a movement with the fingers of his other hand and something cool and liquid brushed against her face. A small bubble of purple, red, and brown lifted from her skin and with another gesture of Solas, faded into nothingness.
Her skin felt clean and refreshed. She lifted her hand to touch her cheek, and no paint stained her fingers.
She glanced up at Solas. "This is not how I imagined our reunion," she said, sighing in defeat. Wanting to escape Solas' piercing eyes, she glanced around. The garden was bathed in the silver glow from the moons, the abundance of flowers illuminated beautifully.
"Or perhaps it is," she mused. "I'd imagined some beautiful place, surrounded by flowers. I suppose this place is rather serene." She glanced back at Solas, who regarded her almost curiously. "You're even wearing that stupid armour," she added with a scoff.
Solas' eyebrows shot up and Ennaly scowled, but couldn't help looking him up and down, hating herself for thinking he looked good in it.
"Ah," Solas released, catching up with her train of thought.
Ennaly's eyes darted back to his. Gods, he almost looked amused. There was a reason his name meant Pride. Annoyed, she hated the blush that must have crept upon her cheeks. "You know, Dorian would never have insulted your fashion choice if you looked like this. And it would have been useful in fighting Corypheus."
He couldn't suppress a small chuckle. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed. This was familiar, them being close together, like how things were supposed to be. She almost imagined them next pouring over a map of the Hinterlands, trying to predict the location of future rifts.
"This did not pass into my possession until… after," Solas replied.
"Of course," she scowled. "Posturing is necessary, right? I guess this outfit might have given your secret away." Trying to steel herself, she took a deep breath. "No," she continued. "I guess a lot of things are like I imagined. Just not me, I suppose. I'm stuck posturing in this mockery of an outfit."
She wanted to sweep her arms to the side to display the dress that was forced upon her. She didn't care for its transparency. Solas had seen every square inch of her naked skin, and she wouldn't feel embarrassed now. But when she swept out her arms, she realised that her left one still ended at the elbow.
And suddenly, a shyness fell over her. For a full wonderful minute, her conversation with Solas had felt natural, like it had when they were still together. She had almost forgotten everything that had happened in the years since. But the absence of her arm made her aware that time had passed, and whatever she had with Solas was gone. He might have saved her from the Magisters, but he wasn't here to stay.
The smile faded from her face, and she shrank in on herself. Only a select few people made her comfortable enough to show her arm like this, uncovered. It always made her feel incomplete, vulnerable. And she never wanted to appear vulnerable in front of Solas. She was her own damn hero for a lot of her life, and heroes had no time for weaknesses.
Embarrassed, she lowered her gaze, cradling the place where her elbow had been. "You took my arm," she said quietly, not as an accusation, but as a simple statement.
"Only to save your life," he replied apologetically.
Ennaly sighed. "I know," she whispered. You also took my heart, she could have added. "I don't suppose you could conjure me a new one?"
"Not one that is better than what you yourself are capable of. My powers have their limits, Ennaly."
Disappointed, Ennaly removed her bracelet from her right arm and placed it on her left. With her magic back, she closed her eyes, concentrating on that source within her. The feeling of magic answering her call, spreading from the knot next to her heart, to her left shoulder and into the bracelet, was comforting. It was effortless, now that her connection to the Fade was re-established.
Solas watched her, his expression only describable as tender. Ennaly looked away, still feeling timid. A shiver overcame her, and she wrapped both arms around herself against the chilly night air. She wasn't wearing much, after all.
Solas noticed and unfastened the wolf pelt from his armour. Silently, he closed the distance between them and draped the fur around Ennaly's shoulders.
Gods, it could have been a scene conjured by a desire demon.
Glancing up through her eyelashes, she placed a hand on Solas' cold chestplate, silently wishing him to stay close.
"Can you get rid of them?" she whispered. "The demons in my dreams, I mean," she clarified when she realised that she wasn't making a lot of sense.
His eyes remained tender, with that sorrowful undertone. "No," he replied quietly. "Demons are drawn by powerful emotions. I do not have the power to change your desires."
Oh, but you have, she thought. For someone so smart, he was remarkably good at failing to understand the consequences of his own actions. He could stop showing up in her dreams, stop giving her those looks, he could stop standing so close to her.
He could stop lifting a hand to wipe a tear from her cheek.
She wasn't aware that the tear had fallen. She swallowed to steel herself. "It makes it harder, you know. This."
"Ennaly," he said, his voice back to the stoic tone he used to mask his emotions. "You should place your focus elsewhere. Aid Dorian in his plight. Study. Dance. Anything else besides following me."
This time it was she who lifted her hand. He had touched her face a few times already, but she hadn't touched his. Carefully, she flattened it against his jaw. His skin felt familiar under her fingertips.
"You know I cannot give up," she muttered as she closed her eyes.
She leaned closer, realising he held his breath. His posture was statuesque, his muscles locked in place. He leaned down just enough for her to reach him, but he was shielding himself. He would allow her to kiss him, like he had kissed her when he took her arm, but he wouldn't meet her halfway.
That was not what Ennaly wanted. He might join in when she kissed him, unable to keep himself away, but he was bracing himself. And she didn't want to kiss him if he wasn't truly in it.
Their lips almost met, but only her breath touched his.
Swallowing, she lowered her face. She could feel his exhale on her forehead, and wondered if he was relieved or disappointed that she hadn't kissed him.
Perhaps it was both.
She took a deep breath. Desire had tempted her so many times, but now that it was really him, she still resisted. How many lies had the demons conjured for her? She might even have believed this scenario.
The latest lie entered her mind. The perfect little girl with the freckle on the tip of her nose, who levitated a flower towards her. But in her mind's eye, her face morphed into the little girl that had called her Emma.
Solas had certainly taken his revenge on the Magisters. She didn't know what he did, but certainly… He would never harm children, would he?
"What happened to the children?" she asked, looking up at him.
Solas looked back at her, confused.
"The little boy and girl," Ennaly said, but realised that was not enough of a distinction. "The Magisters' children," she clarified in a strangely hollow voice. "Are they… alright?"
"I did not harm them," Solas replied, strangely impassive. Perhaps his mind had jumped to Desire's illusion, or perhaps he was insulted that she even asked.
But Ennaly didn't know. If his plan succeeded, it would affect anyone, regardless of age. And she promised no wolves could harm them.
She forced a smile. "They were innocent, you know," she said. "Their minds weren't yet tainted with grand ideas of power. It was the little girl that gave my bracelet back. They didn't mind me being an Elf. Nobody is born cruel. If only they could grow up in a society that was shaped differently... Perhaps the future would be a lot better if only we could change the present, just bit by bit."
"Ennaly…" Solas said in a reprimanding way. He understood what she was doing.
She looked up, feeling slightly devious. "What?" she asked, feigning ignorance. "Not everybody in this current world is bad."
A sigh escaped Solas. "You always see the good in people."
She smiled at his tone of surrender. "You might see it as a weakness, but I think it is a strength."
"I do not consider it a weakness. Hope is a strength."
She smiled. "I am surprised you don't consider it stubborn."
He chuckled, but it was short and soft. "Perhaps a little."
Feeling a warmth inside, she took a step closer and placed her hand on his chestplate again, wishing it was cloth so she could feel his heartbeat. "I've always had a bit of a romantic spirit. I still see the good in you. You came for me, after all."
She wanted to say more, but she wasn't sure if that would be pushing it. You spared Charter. Sutherland fought the regret demon in Skyhold's rotunda.
He released another short chuckle. "You nearly escaped without any need for my aid. But I could not let you suffer for my deeds."
Not being able to resist, Ennaly leaned closer. The jawbone amulet clattered against Solas' armour. "I am sorry for getting caught."
Solas' eyes were aflame with an intense, calm fierceness. "Whatever happened here tonight, none of it was your fault. Ir abelas, vhenan."
Ennaly closed her eyes and let that word wash over her.
Love blinds, Calvus had stated.
Did it? Was she truly blind to Solas' deeds? What if she failed to convince Solas and there came a time where she had to choose between killing him and saving the world? Would she be able to wield the knife?
A shiver ran down her spine. What if it was the other way around? What if all that stood between Solas and his goals, was her? To which extremes would he go to accomplish his tasks?
She didn't want to think about it. All she wanted to focus on was the way Solas' hand pressed on the small of her back, and the way she felt him lean closer, his breath mingling with hers.
Ennaly would never know if he would have kissed her or not, as a sudden sound behind them caused both of them to open their eyes. For a lingering second, she saw a whirlwind of emotion behind his grey-and-purple eyes. Tenderness. Regret. Sorrow. Despair. Perhaps even desire.
But then he disappeared, leaving her to stare at a wall of jasmine flowers.
She wasn't even disappointed. She had thought that to convince Solas, she needed to show strength, resolve, and cunning. But she realised that the most effective way was just to be herself. He had fallen in love with her character, after all.
Feeling strangely satisfied, she turned around. A few dark figures approached her, all of them with weapons raised. To her delight, Ennaly noticed that the person leading them was Dorian.
"Ennaly!" he exclaimed in shock.
She smiled, overjoyed to see her friend. "Dorian. I see you grew your hair. You look great."
He looked at her, indignant in a way only he could look. "What happened?" he asked, ignoring her comment. "Was that…? Several slaves just knocked on my door, utterly shaken, babbling about you. They insisted I mention the name Petras. Gorgeous eyes, that man. Are you alright?"
Ennaly smiled. She knew that Solas would help the slaves. For a moment, she thought she felt Hope brush against her arm from beyond the Veil. Spirits and demons were drawn by powerful emotions, and she thought that perhaps love was strong enough for Hope to linger.
"I am safe," she replied as she clutched the wolf pelt tighter around her shoulders.
Author's Note: That's the end of the story! I hope you have enjoyed it. Please share your thoughts!
For Veilguard, I have always hoped to be able to play a former slave. So, I am going to roleplay my Rook as one of the slaves that escaped this mansion (and be in the Shadow Dragons faction). Very curious about what Veilguard is going to bring us for Solavellan, since it's been ten years...