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Lavellan

Lavellan turned her face toward the rain.
It felt refreshing. Pure. But it didn't distract her from the last dream she had with Solas.
That dream, in which she found him once again. The dream where she hugged him, only to discover that he had preferred to die rather than be with her.
Once again.
The voice she loved so much, deep and ancient, began to sound in her head, leading her to memories, helplessly.

"Vhenan"

"Vhenan"

"VHENAN"

— Inquisitor?

Lavellan jumped, placing a hand over her chest, startled, as she came out of her daydreams. She turned abruptly on her horse toward Cullen, who had accompanied her all the way from Celestial Haven, the Inquisition's base. He looked at her with concern, his blonde hair damp from the rain. His complexion, more wrinkled with the years, seemed darker, more tanned, from all the time he had spent in these bloody times of war. His caramel eyes, almost golden, never left her, analyzing whether she was fit to continue on this fruitless search, according to him.
Lavellan couldn't help but smile faintly, with a hint of bitterness. Her old friend and general worried too much about her, she thought, though when she looked at him, her gaze softened a little.
— Yes, Cullen? — she answered, her voice a little hoarse, partly because she hadn't spoken much during the journey, and partly because thinking of that word, the one that had once been her entire world, always made a loop of sadness settle in her heart, heavy, like a winter that never ended.

Like the winter she had been living through for the past eight years.

She tightened the reins in her gloved hands. Cullen turned his gaze forward, where their final destination awaited them.
— We're almost at Minrathous, Inquisitor — Cullen pointed ahead. The main bridge of the city could already be seen, which would give them access to the area they were searching for. Lavellan nodded, but furrowed her brow as they got closer.
Something was strange. If her sources had given her the right information, the city should be more disturbed. More frantic. But the Archon's Palace floated above it, calm, and the sound of the streets was the usual, accompanied by the soft patter of rain on the cobblestone streets.
Lavellan analyzed what she saw and heard, with a sharp eye, as they passed through the few trees that remained in their path.
— It seems… calm — she couldn't help but comment, with some doubt, turning to her friend, who seemed just as confused as she was.
Cullen frowned, puzzled by what he was seeing or, more accurately, what he wasn't seeing.
— Are you sure he's here? There doesn't seem to be… anything unusual — he hesitated, as if not wanting to unintentionally hurt his friend by mentioning it.
Lavellan nodded, pressing her lips together, a little annoyed at his delicacy, although she knew he was doing it with the best intentions. But still...

She wasn't made of glass, damn it.

— Yes — she answered, a little more sharply than she intended. She took a breath, calming herself —. Thanks to Leliana and her spies, we know he was last seen here a few days ago — she said more softly. She tightened the reins of her horse unconsciously again, making the animal fidget. She stroked its neck, calming it —. His power… is very recognizable.
Lavellan's eyes fixed on the city, getting closer, surveying it as though she could spot Solas from that distance.
Which, she knew, was impossible. But in her chest, in her heart, she always held on to hope.
The hope of seeing him again, of seeing that slightly crooked smile that made his freckles lift a little. Of seeing his eyes, that bright violet color that always softened when he looked at her, as if she were his whole world.
Their horses arrived at the main bridge, the atmosphere still calm, as though nothing were going to happen.

But Lavellan knew this was nothing more than the calm before the storm.

Cullen tightened his grip on the sword at his side, which was bouncing slightly from the horse's movements. He looked ahead, directing his gaze to the guards at the gate ahead, who seemed a little bored on such a peaceful night. He puffed out his chest so his rough voice could reach those who needed to hear it.
— I request passage for Inquisitor Lavellan, leader of the Inquisition and protector of the Holy Divine Victoria! — he exclaimed, using the titles Lavellan wore as her personal insignia. She raised her chin, accompanying her general's words with pride.
At that moment, a murmur spread through the gate, as if a fuse had been lit, while the soldiers at the door looked at each other, unsure of what to do.
The voices grew louder as minutes passed, and no one came out to greet them, making Lavellan frown in impatience.
— The Inquisitor? THAT Inquisitor?
— What's she doing here, in our city?
— But… That hair, that skin… so white. Pristine. It's definitely her.
A louder, more authoritative voice rose above the others, silencing them. The gate opened slowly, and a figure crossed it, walking slowly but confidently. Cullen and Lavellan exchanged looks and nodded. They dismounted their horses, aware that staying on them in the city would be difficult, and they probably wouldn't be allowed to keep them. A guard, who seemed of high rank, probably a commander, approached them. When he reached their height, he bowed deeply, his face covered by a helmet, which bore the same insignia as his armor.
— Apologies for the rudeness, Inquisitor — he said, straightening up, his eyes meeting hers through the helmet —. We welcome you to Minrathous — He stepped aside, revealing the open gate —. Please leave your horses with us, as…
Suddenly, a loud noise rang out in the sky, as though a huge fabric had torn.
Cold sweat began to run down the Inquisitor's back. That sound… she had heard it before.
Lavellan looked up, frightened, her eyes wide, partly knowing what she was about to see. A massive tear began to open, slowly, in the night sky, which was starting to light up with a green, ghostly, spiritual light leaking from the opening. Lavellan took a breath, her memories blending with the present.

The Veil. The Veil had a tear.

Hundreds of demons began to pour out of that wound in the sky, like raindrops that continued falling, but much, much deadlier, charging toward the city, where the frightened cries of the citizens began to rise.
— What the hell have you done, Solas? — Lavellan whispered, terrified by the screams, her heart in disbelief that the elf had actually kept part of the promise he had made to her years ago. Her fists clenched at her sides as she shook her head in disbelief.

By Mythal, Solas. I truly didn't think you were capable, she thought, saddened, her heart breaking in two, mirroring the wound in the night sky.

Quickly, she approached her horse, and she sheathed her daggers and bag with skill and precision, showing it wasn't the first, nor would it be the last time she made such a maneuver. She turned and began walking toward the gate, taking long strides, but a hand stopped her, forcing her to regain her balance to avoid falling. She turned her head back, her hair floating with the momentum, like a curtain of pure snow. Cullen was looking at her, brow furrowed, tense, with concern all over his face.
— You can't go, Inquisitor! It's dangerous! — Cullen watched her fiercely, his caramel eyes full of worry and something more. Lavellan shook her head, not bothering to guess what her general was thinking now.

She was probably the only one who could stop the ritual and save all the citizens of the city. The only one who might be able to reason with that stubborn elf who had occupied her heart all these years.

— Cullen, go back and report to Divine Victoria. They'll need all the reinforcements they can get. Take this. — She took a crystal ball out of her bag, an elven device for long-distance communication. She opened her hand, offering it to him, then closed it, gently brushing her gloved fingers as she squeezed it, offering him encouragement —. With this, you can get ahead of them, but they need their general as soon as possible — she emphasized, looking at him and letting go of his hands, stepping back.
Cullen took the orb between his hands. He closed his eyes for a moment but opened them a few seconds later. He looked at her, intensely, with that stubborn gleam that so characterized her friend.
— Lavellan, be careful. Solas… — he stopped, shaking his head — No, Fen'harel isn't the same as before — he murmured under his breath, as if trying to force the idea into her mind.
Lavellan let out a bitter laugh, almost unwillingly. If someone gave her a coin for every time her friends had written or said something like this…
— Neither am I, old friend. Neither am I — she replied, lowering her voice, in a threatening manner. Her eyes shimmered slightly, a greenish hue highlighting the pink and bluish, almost silvery, blending together, giving her irises a unique appearance. She turned and pulled up her hood, hiding her white hair and leaving only those deadly eyes visible. A hardness settled in them, making them a gleaming gem under the rain.
— Be careful, Cullen.
Then, she began to run toward the city, praying to the god who might listen that she arrived in time to stop Solas.

To stop the one who had once shared her heart.

Her Vhenan.

Elvish terms used:
Vhenan: Heart; often used as a term of endearment, typically among lovers.