Hi, everyone (or no one).

Here's a break from all the drama (kinda).

We get some more of Solas' past this time, so I'm excited (Pumped, actually).

I hope everyone's having fun reading so far (I feel like I wrote this exact thing a few chapters ago... creative!)

Happy Reading!

~Garnet

Banal Silaima IV

Despite the multitude of youthful beauties living in Arlathan, Solas loved dancing with dowagers. They were amusingly coquettish and full of a zest for life that some youth didn't have. They always told the most scandalous or ridiculous stories and were so easy to charm. All they needed was a coy smile and peck on the hand to be completely enthralled. Dowagers gossiped frequently, so charming a few could completely warp someone's reputation in certain circles.

Solas thrived in these settings laced with secrets, danger, jealousy and lust. It was always intriguing to catch people struggling to act opposite of their intentions and there was a certain thrill in thwarting clumsy attempts at manipulation and seduction.

Arlathan was celebrating the summer solstice. Every roadway was covered with yellow flower petals to evoke eternal sun rays. In common neighborhoods, festivals were thrown where children with painted faces wade in fountains to gather fruit heir parents harvested and thrown into the water to help them keep cool. By nighttime, joyful music would echo through the streets.

The nobles, however, gathered in the great crystal palace just north of the city for an evening of delight, debauchery and treachery.

It was fashionable for women to wear the thinnest silk gowns they owned without compromising their modesty to keep from being overheated. Many of the younger men, excluding Solas, went without shirts, instead opting for sheer, billowing cloaks made of vibrantly dyed lace and worn on one shoulder and tied with a matching silk ribbon. Older or more distinguished guests dressed modestly, though thin silk was still the most common material used for dress.

Solas opted for a muslin shirt and pants. While the material wasn't the much-liked sheer that everyone wore, it was still cool and a striking shade of white.

By the time Solas arrived at the palace, the festivities were full underway; the smell of wine had already been fixed in the air as heavy as the perfumes women were wearing. He took a cup to start and wandered the palace, simply observing at first. Once that began to bore him, he went to the ballroom and locked eyes with a dowager he'd met previously. She was a lovely old woman, petite and engaging with the highest little laugh he'd ever heard. He graciously danced with her for two full songs before they parted, with her patting his cheek affectionately.

Solas led her back to her gaggle of other widowed noblewomen with a polite bow and left to find more wine. The dining hall was nearly empty so he took his time sampling the different wines offered before settling on a full glass of white wine so rich and fortified that it took on a deep golden color.

As he was leaving to mingle once more, a familiar, sulky face caught his eye. "Felassan, arani," Solas called and he looked from his lap, confused, then brightened considerably. Felassan was dressed in the popular half-cape, though it was dyed a subtle, muted blue that complimented his swarthy skin and dark hair.

"You're flushed, Solas," Felassan said, joining him as they left the dining hall. "Tell me you're not drunk this early."

"No, no. I've been dancing," Solas replied.

"Ah." Felassan shook his head in slight distaste. "I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up with you tonight, arani. I haven't forgotten last year."

"What happened last year?"

"A great deal, the most embarrassing for you involving a fountain and too much of this." He poked the wine glass gently with a chuckle.

"I can't even remember," Solas murmured with a frown. He set his half-finished glass down on a nearby table; there was no need in revisiting whatever humiliation was caused by that wine. "Anyhow, when did you return to the city?"

"I've been here almost a month now," Felassan replied. "After I left Vir Dirthara, Mythal wrote me, so I went to pay her a visit. Then we traveled here together. Have you been at the library this entire time?"

"Yes. I arrived this morning." Solas had been studying there ever since he completed his official schooling. He remembered when the library seemed nearly empty. Now, it was overflowing with information and a very sought out location of peace, near-silence and knowledge. "You're living with Mythal now?

"Yes. She took one look at the gallery I rented and nearly died of horror. She dragged me to her villa without another word." Felassan laughed though Solas folded his arms stubbornly.

"I told her that we would be working there when I returned from Vir Dirthara," he mumbled.

"Oh, she knows. She was just appalled with the implication that we'd be living there." Felassan nudged him with his elbow lightly. "She means well."

"I know," Solas sighed. She always meant well. He didn't want her to feel like she had to accommodate him, but she was so selfless it was cruel to tell her to not help. "She's here, isn't she?"

Felassan's eyes shifted to the entrance to the ballroom and his motioned his head in that direction. "She's appeasing her admirers."

Mythal stood out, as she always had, in a thin silk gown the color of honey, gold cuffs on her upper arm and golden chrysanthemums woven into a laurel pinned into her black hair. She stood by the doors, a sea of admirers waiting to greet her until she saw the two of them observing the scene, amused.

"They act like if they touch her gown, she'll agree to marry one of them," Felassan muttered sarcastically to which Solas held back a laugh.

"Do you want to know why she's undeniably cruel? Because she'll give none of them any more than a smile," Solas replied. "She's a tease."

Felassan nodded. "They're fools."

Solas nodded and caught her eye with a joking smile and a flippant wave. He watched her expression change from polite but disinterested to mischievous. She waded through the sea of suitors over to where they were standing and flung her arms around Solas gleefully, to which many of the suitors faces fell in what would have made Solas collapse in laughter if he wasn't tactful.

"Arani, my dear Solas, it's been far too long," she said, tightening her embrace. "I'm so glad you're home."

"Thank you," he murmured, pulling away gently. "How have you been?"

She scoffed and took each of their hands before leading them into the ballroom. "Dismally bored. Everyone in this city is so miserably predictable."

Felassan chuckled. "I'll try not to take offense."

Mythal smiled apologetically. "Excluding Felassan, of course. Besides him, this has been a very dreary spring."

"Hm." Solas looked at her with feigned thoughtfulness. "You're bored? Does that mean you'll marry some poor nobleman again?"

She laughed sarcastically. "Well, I must admit I've been thinking about adding another to my collection, but, alas, no one in Arlathan has interested me. What about you, Solas? Have you tired of your self-inflicted celibacy yet?"

"It's the only reason I returned to Arlathan," he joked.

"Oh," Mythal giggled and squeezed his hand. "How I've missed you."

The three of them wandered the ball, gossiping and reconnecting. It was a time Solas would remember as nearly as innocent as childhood. They were all young and full of potential and the future seemed so bright. He wouldn't have fathomed, as he danced with his friends joy swelling within him, that this ball marked the beginning of things unraveling into madness.

He was pulled from perpetual whimsy by Mythal's sharp breath. "Who is that?" she asked, suddenly enchanted.

Solas spun his head in the direction she was looking. At the top of a staircase, in almost a fashion that was too rehearsed, stood a man, tall and surrounded by a procession of followers. He was wearing the popular half-cape, in intricate lace dyed a blinding scarlet and his hair fell in a tumble of dark brown waves. His expression was strong but disinterested, above all the festivities and people in attendance, but required to attend for propriety's sake all the same. Solas recognized him as the only person unimpressed by Vir Dirthara; his opinion of the man was jaded as a result.

"He calls himself Elgar'nan," Solas told her.

"Does he?" She smoothed the front of her gown and craned her neck to get a better look. "What do you know about him?"

"Not much. But all you really need to know about him is observable in this moment," Solas muttered.

"If Solas is trying to say that he looks like pompous lout," Felassan interjected, "I agree."

Mythal rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Even if he is, such men can be tamed."

Solas barked out a laugh. "Take it from a man; no, they can't."

She tossed her hair behind her shoulder and smiled confidently. "We'll see. It takes a certain kind of woman to break down a man's pride. By the time I've worked my magic, he'll be a rabbit in my snare."

"Hunt well," Felassan called after her as she sauntered across the ballroom boldly. The rest of the evening faded into a blur and suddenly Solas was at another ball, in another palace, in another time. Mythal's departing figured dissolved into Sara bent over a balcony in the Winter Palace, her shoulders relaxed for the first time that night.

The prospect of enchanting the imperial court had frightened Sara far more than any demon or Venatori agent ever could. She barely seemed phased by preventing the empress' assassination; that would be simpler than putting her practiced poise on display for courtiers that would know she wasn't as adept at the Game as them.

She needn't have worried as much as she did; the court was enthralled by her. Sara was just the perfect amount of humble but confident and cunning but inconspicuous to navigate people so false they had to physically wear masks. It was riveting to observe her curl her finger around unsuspecting nobles who fed her information they would never had revealed otherwise.

In the course of a few hours, she managed to rescue Empress Celene, publicly disgrace Duchess Florianne as a conspirator and traitor, remove Gaspard as a potential rival or enemy, and reconcile Celene with her former lover, an elven woman who could only prove to be a worthy ally. It was extremely well played and if he didn't know that Sara was dreading this evening, he would have thought she was born for intrigue.

Solas joined her on the balcony when she was finally allowed a moment alone. Sara leaned on the balcony and sighed, as if she'd been holding her breath for hours. Frankly, she was laced into her corset so tightly, she likely hadn't taken a full breath all night.

Josephine outdid herself in choosing Sara's gown; it was smooth dark blue velvet with a jeweled bodice that exposed her shoulders. The sleeves were tight in the upper arm but flared out at the elbow. Josephine clasped her own serpentstone choker around her neck and Leliana allowed Sara to borrow a pair of doeskin dancing slippers. She was appallingly beautiful that evening and drew his eye constantly. How he was supposed to focus on finding a potential killer was beyond him when she was in the room.

By the time they'd discussed how distressed she was at the fate of Gaspard, he realized that all Sara probably wanted was a distraction.

"Come," he said decisively, hoping to pull her from her musing, "before the band stops playing, dance with me." He held out his hand and watched her eyes brighten considerably.

"I'd love to," she exhaled, a weary smile on her pretty lips. She took his hand and they did little more than sway for several moments, enjoying the faint music from within.

"Do you ever think about what you'll do after all this?" she asked suddenly, her head nuzzling his shoulder. "I mean, if we survive, of course."

The question caught Solas slightly off guard. Being with her had complicated things far more than he'd intended. He had always assumed that after the Inquisition defeated Corypheus, he would retake his orb and begin with his plans to remove the veil. Now, while he still wanted to go ahead with his plans, he also didn't want to lose Sara. But it seemed like both desires were incongruent with each other. He would lose her if she knew the truth about him and what he needed to do.

"I haven't," he lied. "In times like this, it can be difficult to think of what's to come."

"How grim." Sara laughed and looked at him playfully. "Well, call me over optimistic, but I think about it all the time."

Solas tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Alright," he humored her. "What are your plans?"

"Don't laugh at me," she said.

"I won't," he replied.

"Well," she began shyly. "Once we have some time to breathe, I was hoping that you'd come with me to Wycome. To meet my family."

Something warm and sad stirred in him. Part of him would like nothing more than to go with her and discover what could evolve between them without the threat of death and destruction looming. That same part of him knew it would be impossible.

"My mother will adore you," she sighed. "Completely."

"You think so?" Solas peered at her doubtfully.

"Yes. She's very soft-spoken and intellectual so I'm sure that she'd find you fascinating," Sara explained.

"What about your father and the rest of your clan?" Solas asked.

"It's difficult to say how the rest of my clan will feel about you, but my father is a simple man and he'll just appreciate that you care for me. And my brothers are young so I doubt they'll be hard to impress." Sara shrugged and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just show them some magic or something."

"How young are they?" Solas asked.

"Tavin is elven now, Felren is seven and Ardis is four." She paused to think for a moment. "No, he's five."

"You're the oldest?"

"Thankfully." Sara laughed. "I couldn't imagine being younger than any of them, they're so obnoxious. My parents wanted a gaggle of children but had difficulty conceiving. I'm sure when they married they'd planned on having more than four of us but after Ardis, I think my mother's done."

"I don't blame her," Solas replied. "Keeping an eye on three boys can't be easy."

"She's too sweet for them," she said. "When I was at home, I'd keep them in line and out of trouble, even though they constantly sought it out."

"You were just being an evil older sister," he teased, only for her to pout and try to squirm out of his arms to no avail.

"I'm not taking you to meet them anymore," she huffed. "It'll just be days of 'Let's torment Sara'."

"Days of tormenting you?" Solas took her hand. "We should leave and go to Wycome now. Why wait?"

She struggled feebly, chuckles breaking through her pretend outrage with giggle-filled demands for him to release her. Eventually, he pinned her to the cool outer walls of the palace, both of them nearly in tears from laughter. Once the laughter subsided, she looped her arms around his waist and craned her neck to steal a kiss. He melted into her and as he trailed his lips down her jaw he nearly forgot where they were.

As much as the atmosphere of a ball brought forth feelings of romance and whimsy, it wouldn't be appropriate for the Herald of Andraste to be caught in the arms of her "Elven serving man". As Solas pulled away from her, shocked at his own restraint, he wished for Arlathan. There, at parties like this, it would be easy to find a quiet, empty hallway to have privacy. His mind flashed with visions of her pinned against a wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, skirts hiked around her hips and her hand covering her mouth to stay quiet as he pulled moans from her.

Now is not the time, he told himself, warmth coating his skin. "We should stop," he requested hoarsely.

Sara's smile was dripping with mischief, her eyes feverish and lustful. "Perhaps... What's the harm in a little scandal?"

"More than you think," he murmured and brought his lips to her ear. "Melena, vhenan. We'll be at Skyhold before long." He took her hand gently and led her through the palace to find Josephine. As calm as he seemed externally, inside, he was as overwrought with desire as Sara.

Skyhold has never seemed farther away...

Elven Phrases

Melena: Wait

(Thanks to Project Elvhen by FenxShiral for the vocabulary)

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