Lavellan

Lavellan opened her mouth, surprised when Rook disappeared into thin air, leaving the Dread Wolf speechless.

She hadn't dared to do that. She hadn't left her stranded. No, right?

At that moment, Solas clenched his fist, furious, closing his mouth suddenly with a snap.

"Delltash," he cursed in Elvish, causing Lavellan to drop her jaw suddenly.

Whoa. Whoa. Solas swearing. That was really bordering on a very personal wet dream, she told herself, fanning herself while blushing slightly.

Damn runaway libido. Did she need to remind herself that Solas had betrayed her several times, huh? She argued with herself.

But he also painted murals of the two of you, her own head replied, maliciously. Lavellan clenched her jaw at that thought, which she had the decency to ignore.

Solas, with a sigh, crouched down, squatting, stroking his head, annoyed, almost pouting his lips.

"Darn brat," he murmured, covering his mouth slightly with an arm.

Lavellan began to think she was going to have to pick her jaw up off the floor, because between what Rook had done and that she had never seen Solas so desperate, she didn't know how she hadn't collapsed from surprise.

Oh, mother. She was going to have a heart attack in this dimension, and nobody would know it was because of an adorable elf thousands of years old.

Solas sighed again, with sadness settling on his face.

"Are you alright, Ma'arlath? I haven't heard from you in so long, only in whispers, in unsubstantiated rumors…" he murmured, resting his head on his arm, while closing his eyes, saddened.

Sadness settled on her face, deep, when he called her "My love." For once, Lavellan thought, she was seeing the true face of the dreaded Dread Wolf. And Mythal bless her, she was liking it. She approached him, curious, without yet crossing to his side of the abyss, while she was immersed in her own thoughts.

It was simple why Solas didn't know anything about her, nowadays. She hadn't let Solas' spies approach Skyhold, simply because she hadn't let anyone, except Morrigan and some other friends, who only went at specific times that she designated, to go to a few places or to bring her some things.

She hadn't let anyone fully approach Skyhold, feeding the castle's protections herself.

Solas sighed again, resting his head on one of his fists.

"If I only had one more chance to see her…" Solas shook his head, with that characteristic movement of his head, while smiling, bitterly. "Who are you trying to fool, Solas. You abandoned and betrayed her. Abide by the consequences of your pride," he reproached himself, mockingly, to himself.

Lavellan jumped across the abyss with ease, nervous because of those words. In this world, she seemed to be lighter than usual, although perhaps it was her heart that had begun to beat faster. She placed herself at his side, crouching down, wanting to be closer to him. It was incredible, she told herself, digging her nails slightly into the palms of her hand. He had also missed her, even if only a little, she told herself, as her heart skipped a beat in her chest. Her cheeks flushed a little, slightly.

That indicated that she had mattered something to Solas. And that made her happy, even if it was only some remnants of what she felt for him. The murals, these words, everything made her hope dance once more in her chest, uncontrollably, causing her to sigh, slipping through her lips before she could contain it, floating in the air with that feeling that she didn't dare to say aloud, not even in her own head.

Suddenly, Solas averted his gaze towards her, causing Lavellan to frown.

How strange. His gaze seemed fixed on her. She turned around, curious about what she was supposed to be seeing behind her. Solas chuckled.

"There's no need for you to turn around. I'm seeing you, unknown spirit."

Lavellan almost, and only almost, fell over the cliff from surprise. Her good reflexes, after so many years of training, saved her from falling over by a hair. Her eyes widened, fixed on Solas, in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat, as if her lungs had forgotten how to breathe. For a moment, she couldn't even blink, as she stared at the elf, who had maintained a small smile at her silence.

"What the hell? Are you seeing me?" Lavellan asked him, breathless, as she began to tremble slightly.

Solas tilted his head towards her, curious at the trembling in her voice.

"I see you, yes. But you are nothing more than a mist and a whisper in the wind, spirit. I don't really see what you look like, and your voice fades in every word," he leaned slightly towards her, causing Lavellan to swallow "What are you doing here, in this prison? You shouldn't be here."

Lavellan had to shake her hands to calm her nervousness. She stood up, which made Solas do so in turn, approaching her in a slight step, with curiosity in his expression. The elf took a step back, trying to avoid him.

Which she shouldn't have done.

Her foot landed in the void, causing her body to begin to fall without remedy. With a scream, she tried to maintain her balance, without success.

Oh, for Mythal's sake, she thought, as she fell. She hoped there was at least a bottom to crash into. The famous Inquisitor, defeated by her own stupidity.

It was right up her alley.

Just then, some hands suddenly grabbed her by the waist preventing her from falling. Their warmth was transmitted throughout the Inquisitor's body, which had closed her eyes at the inevitability, but that made her open them, suddenly. Her heart began to beat fervently when violet eyes locked on hers, causing that same warmth to spread throughout her body.

"Careful," Solas held her in his arms with a frown, preventing her from falling further while turning her to one side, catching her lightly, avoiding the ravine.

Lavellan felt the world stagger, as she watched the sky begin to spin, slightly.

"And on top of that you can touch me!" Lavellan uttered in a small scream, stupefied, still as a dazzled hare. She was a hair's breadth from fainting from lack of air, she thought suddenly, while she didn't take her eyes off that face that she knew so well, analyzing it closely.

He had more dark circles than she had been able to see on the day of the failed ritual. His freckles had increased a little, covering his face more. And he had more small scars around his face, scars that she had never quite noticed. His lips seemed thicker, slightly, but his nose, somewhat crooked, was the same as before, without changing an iota. There were a few more wrinkles around his eyes, which were still the same, with that beautiful violet, but perhaps more opaque, more somber, more tired.

By Mythal, that day she hadn't been able to fixate on how attractive he was, now that he even seemed older. Or perhaps it was simply that he had stopped pretending, revealing what he really was, reflecting even physically. He had stopped pretending to be shorter, he had stopped being a shadow, to reveal himself as the predator he was.

But perhaps that's not what she should be thinking about right now, no.

But in that Solas was touching her, with those wide hands surrounding her waist, transmitting a wrong warmth. He was talking to her, with that hoarse voice near her, that made her pointed ears move slightly, wanting to hear more. He heard her panting, while frowning that face, making her wrinkles that she wanted to remove with a caress of her fingers.

But he believed that she was a lost spirit. A damn lost spirit, without even being able to visualize her correctly.

She backed away sharply, but without letting go of him, yet. This time, placing her hands on his chest trying to move him away, she felt his warmth from under his clothes, causing a blush to come to her cheeks and her ears to start fluttering slightly. She took her hands away abruptly too, and took one, two, three steps back, while touching her face with both hands. She began to hyperventilate a little from the surprise, with wide eyes.

"Mythal'enaste. May the Maker take me. Harak'mar, Luthan'shal" she cursed, in all the languages she knew, from Elvish to Dwarvish and, if she knew how to curse in Qunlat, she was sure she would have done it. She took a hand to her chest, as if trying to calm her racing heart was the only thing she could do right now, without success.

A deep laugh reached her ears, causing her to look up. Solas was laughing heartily, unable to avoid it, while covering his mouth slightly. His eyes locked on hers, shining with amusement, causing his violet to clear slightly, as he looked at her.

"Did you just curse in almost every possible language?" he asked her between laughs, incredulously. Lavellan stared at him, stupefied.

She was having a stroke. It was the only thing that could explain this strange event. Solas laughing heartily was something that she thought she would never see in her life and there he was, like a lucid dream, like a miracle that had fallen inside this prison between worlds. She remained silent, analyzing if she was going to fall dead, when Solas recovered taking a breath, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes. He shook his head slightly, and looked at her, this time his smile full of sadness. His posture transmitted weariness, and some loneliness, maintaining a distance with her, as if he didn't want to get too close to Lavellan again.

"In the end, as always, you are the ones who accompany me, old friends," he murmured, with sadness, without losing that smile, which caused a small, shy dimple to form.

No. No, no, and no. She couldn't continue with this. It was too much for her heart, it was too much for her body, for her soul, which didn't stop increasing her hope before something that was false.

It wasn't her to whom he was directing those smiles. It wasn't her who had provoked those laughs.

No, it was a spirit that he believed false, a friend from the afterlife who didn't really exist. Lavellan shook her head, taking one step away, two, three, whatever it took to put distance between the elf and her. That made Solas lose his smile little by little, confused by her silent reaction, by that distance that she herself had decided to take. Solas took a step towards her, forgetting that he himself had previously retreated a few steps to move away from Lavellan.

"I have to go. I'm leaving. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I…" Lavellan backed away, scared, not knowing what to say, wanting to maintain the silence that she knew was going to save her from confessing that it was her, that it was Lavellan who was in front of him.

That it was her friend, her love, her heart who was speaking to him, not just any spirit.

But she couldn't. She didn't want to. She shouldn't tell him.

Solas raised a hand, trying to stop her, twisting his face from the confusion he had, even with some fear, as if he feared that she would leave forever.

Which she, in her deepest interior, didn't want to be that way.

"Wait…" he sighed, reaching her slightly, his hand brushing Lavellan's, slightly.

But the Inquisitor vanished in a sigh, with her heart racing, letting the mist envelop her, once more, remaining only with that violet gaze, full of incredulity and fear.

Lavellan woke up abruptly, breathless. She got up, placing a hand on her chest, grabbing her dress and pulling on it, slightly, as if she needed the air to run through her whole body, which was sweating, heated by nerves. She stood up, trying to release all those nerves that gripped her, without remedy. Her heart beat non-stop, still feeling the slight touch of warmth on the fingers that had brushed Solas' hand, in his attempt to stop her.

She walked from side to side, ignoring the murals, trying not to let herself be carried away by the panic that was beginning to grip her.

What the hell had happened in the prison? Didn't Rook tell her that it was nothing more than a "temporary connection"?

Temporary, my ass.

Lavellan pulled her hair away from her face, thoughtfully, while entangling her fingers in the strands.

It was true that she had gone to sleep, wanting to clear herself of that pain that had gripped her when discovering her… new room. She had wanted to envelop herself in the dream, as she always did when she didn't want to face something directly, in this case, her broken heart. But as if destiny hadn't finished torturing her yet, it just so happened that Rook had gone to meditate, to be able to talk to the elf, to be able to squeeze some information out of him. And Lavellan had been dragged, without remedy, as if the prison wanted her to also be present to torture her, like a living being who enjoyed the pain of others, as she was doing with Solas all that time.

She stood still in the middle of the room, distractedly fixing on a piano that was in the center of the room, which she hadn't noticed before, with all the surprise that had assaulted her without remedy. She rested her hand on the polished and varnished wood, caressing it slightly, while she was immersed in her thoughts, trying to reach the logic that her head needed to calm down.

She had to start tracing the points, to understand everything. And, for that, she had to start from the beginning, following the points from the ritual.

Solas had linked himself to Rook, using blood magic, to be able to talk to her through dreams. What he never predicted is that she would also storm the ritual, bleeding in the process as well. But, in some way that she didn't know, Solas hadn't realized that the spell had linked her to her too, as if he really didn't know of her presence.

But she had been there. And he had seen her. Although it was true, Lavellan thought, frowning, that his face had shown an expression that almost seemed as if he had seen a ghost.

What if, somehow, he thought she was an apparition provoked by magic? Coming from Solas, it could be possible. And more if he hadn't had information from her in years, as he had confirmed to Rook. Perhaps he even believed that she had died, or that she had disappeared somehow, although she didn't believe it.

In the end, the rumors that she was still working as Inquisitor never disappeared. And Lavellan had attended several meetings and parties, despite herself. His spies must have seen her there at least some of them. Which contradicted a bit with that statement that he didn't know anything about her, but perhaps, he was referring to real information. To her state of health, to her activities.

To her possible lovers.

The next point was the prison. When Rook was with Solas, he couldn't see her or hear her. It was as if she was totally invisible to his eyes. And Lavellan could only interact with Rook, transmitting her thoughts and her feelings, controlling her as if she were a puppet, which she had discovered almost unintentionally. But, alas, when the pink-haired girl was no longer there, it was another matter.

She remembered that time, the first time she had been alone with the elf. She had been able to kiss him slightly, even, but she thought that it had been a hallucination of her poor mind, having Solas so close, who still hadn't been able to see her even there. But the kiss had been, in a certain way, real.

And the second time he had already been able to see her, but he hadn't related those two situations. The question was, why the first time couldn't he see her and the second time he could, even touching her physically?

A failure of the spell, maybe? Or perhaps he had still been adapting to her. Blood magic, at least, was fickle, unexpected, it almost had a life of its own.

Lavellan voted that that was what had happened. But another thing came to her mind, while drumming her fingers on the wood.

The Dread Wolf didn't know who she was, he had told her. He couldn't see more than a mist and the muffled sound of her voice, he had informed her almost regretfully, as if he were curious about who she was. Lavellan took a hand to her chin, thoughtfully.

Should she believe the words of the God of Lies? She wondered, doubtful. Although, really, it could be a somewhat stupid question, because she had seen his face when he thought there was nobody, hidden behind the walls, not wanting to bother him many times in the Inquisition, thinking that she was nothing more than a nuisance for the wise elf.

The face he had made when he still hadn't realized her presence had been totally sincere, perhaps thinking about his spirit friends, while sketching a slight smile, which caused that small dimple to appear. And not only that. Solas, previously, had always told her that with the spirits was with whom he was most comfortable, with whom he had shared his secrets, his fears, and his problems, even before knowing Lavellan.

Which in a certain way translated into that he already spoke with spirits thousands of years ago, even.

Yes. Solas, the God of Lies, Betrayal, and Rebellion at that moment had been sincere. And she was going to take advantage of that, precisely.

She moved away from the piano, looking through the window, near the small table where the ancient Orb of Corypheus was. She approached, grabbing the branch to her side, while she turned it between her fingers and fixed her gaze on the horizon, on one of the floating ruins.

She couldn't tell Rook, she thought, rolling the branch carefully, not wanting to spoil it. This was her opportunity to convince Solas not to perform the ritual, hidden behind an appearance that wasn't hers, so that the god would trust her. And she should take advantage even more if in his eyes she was an innocent spirit.

It was her opportunity and only hers. Nobody else should know it; no, because they were going to want to interfere or stop her and she wasn't going to allow it under any circumstances.

And, as the saying went, Fen'Harel ma ghilana.

The Dread Wolf guides you. And oh, she was going to, she thought, as she brought the branch to her lips, with a sparkle of determination crossing her pink and bluish eyes a malicious smile settled on her face, causing the black of her lips to shine.

Solas was going to suffer in his own flesh what it was like to feel deceived. And part of her was going to enjoy it, without a doubt.