Lavellan

Lavellan watched as Rook's presence disappeared from the prison of the beyond, shrouded in mist, leaving her alone in the middle of nowhere.
She turned, observing her surroundings with curiosity. The ruins seemed frozen in time, as if they didn't know how to fall. As if they wanted to stay there, forever, without moving forward in time.
At the very least, it was gloomy. Dull. Sad.
It resembled her, she couldn't help but think bitterly, placing a hand on her chest as she looked down.
Her, after so many years steeped in despair. Her, who had learned how much hatred and how much love a single heart could hold at once.
—Who's there?
That voice, the one she loved and hated so much, startled her. She took a step back, disbelieving, opening her eyes wide and raising her gaze ahead, holding her breath.

Solas reappeared before her, frowning. The abyss had disappeared once Rook left, as if it had been satisfied, giving the god access to where she was. Lavellan took a step back, surprised to have him so close all of a sudden. Her heart began to race, as if there were a drum in her chest. Her cheeks flushed with excitement, and her eyes couldn't help but blur slightly with the traitorous tears that filled them. The hatred she had felt before, the anger, evaporated as if it had never existed, although she knew it was just an illusion, hiding deep within her. She lifted a hand toward him, not quite touching him.
Oh my god. Solas, her Solas, was so close.
Her vhenan. A smile crept onto her lips, faint, sweetening her face.

But then, those eight years hit her all at once. Everything that had happened. Everything she had suffered.
All because of him, directly or indirectly.
She withdrew her hand as her heart inevitably grew colder and resentment filtered back into her. Suddenly, her left arm began to ache, reminding her not to be deceived once more.
Not to let her heart control her, no matter how much she simply wanted to let go.

Then, the Dread Wolf looked toward her, as if he had felt her change in mood, her thoughts about him. She realized his gaze wasn't fixed on her.
It was as if he couldn't truly see her, as he had before, although he could feel her presence.
He brought a hand to his chin, thoughtful, as he analyzed her. Her assumptions were true then. He didn't know it was her he was speaking to, because he couldn't even catch a glimpse of her. But somehow, he sensed where she was, more or less.
In summary, he knew Lavellan was there, but didn't know it was her.
But why now could he and not with Rook? she wondered, confused. Then she remembered where they were. Who he was with. And she shrugged.
She supposed it was something she would have to figure out over time.

Solas took a few unexpected steps closer, coming very near her body. So close, that if they raised a hand, they would touch each other.
—Whoever you are, you should reveal yourself before I truly get angry— the god muttered between clenched teeth, in a veiled threat, tightening his fists. His brow furrowed, threateningly, unable to identify the danger, unable to control what was happening.

Lavellan unconsciously stepped closer at seeing him so frustrated, so threatening. He reminded her of that time when a spirit similar to him, a friend, died, inevitably, corrupted by stupid humans who believed themselves superior. That moment when he looked at humans the same way.
Like the Dread Wolf, not like Solas.
And she hadn't even realized, thinking her normally calm friend was truly angry, very angry, exciting her a little within her sadness at seeing him like this.
How foolish she had been. The signs had been there, but her love for him had blinded her from the very beginning, without her even knowing it.
In the end, it had been much later when she realized the change in her heart toward the elf. When she realized that every beat of her heart belonged to Solas, inevitably, from that moment and even before.

She moved closer to him, taking advantage of the fact that he couldn't see her. Observing him up close for the first time, she noticed he looked older than the last time she had seen him. Was that even possible for an immortal god? To grow, to mature?
She raised her hand, standing on her tiptoes a little. She reached for his cheek, wanting to touch him. She bit her lower lip, running her tongue over it afterward, hesitantly. She slowly rested her palm against him, although she felt nothing beneath it.
What would happen if she kissed him now? she thought, leaning her face closer, without actually touching him except with her hand, lowering her gaze to his lips. Would the god feel it? Or would it be like kissing the air, with only she feeling that palpable tension in her body?
God, she wanted him so much, she thought, her eyes shining with anticipation. And he didn't even know she was there.

Suddenly, Solas focused on where Lavellan was, tension evident in those violet eyes, and a hint of surprise. He jumped away from Lavellan, who staggered slightly, regaining her balance. Solas brought a hand to his own cheek, confused, unaware of what was happening, as if he had felt her light touch. His eyes began to glow faintly with that characteristic green color, indicating that his magic was starting to surface, perhaps unwillingly.
—But... what?— he sighed, confusion etched in his entire tense posture.
Lavellan inhaled deeply, cursing herself at seeing him like that. She brought a hand to her face, returning to herself, stepping back. Apparently, he could feel her in some way after all. And she...

By Mythal. She had really wanted to kiss him, regardless of the consequences.
To him, who had betrayed her so many times. To him, who had abandoned her mercilessly, something inside her said, speaking with resentment, suppressing the warmth of the love she felt.
To the god who had ruthlessly stabbed her friend.
—Solas— she sighed his name, almost as a blessing or a desperate plea, but also like a veiled curse.
She couldn't identify which it was.
She lowered her head in sorrow, looking at the ground while digging her nails into the palm of her right hand. Her lips trembled slightly as she clenched her jaw, trying to contain a rage she knew was justified. Yet, when she looked at him, his eyes reflected the opposite: a wounded love, almost desperate. But his next words conveyed the opposite, with infinite bitterness:
—I hate you so much...— she inhaled, knowing it was entirely the opposite. She held back the sob that wanted to escape, her wounded heart wanting to speak. Still, she repressed it. She fixed a determined look on the god, who seemed tense, frozen, as if he were truly listening to her.
She hoped he was.
—I will save you. For what we were. For what we are— she murmured to him, moving closer. She rose on her tiptoes and, for once, didn't think about what she did.

She placed her lips on his, gently, almost like a butterfly's touch. A kiss that tasted like a farewell on her lips. A kiss that was filled with wounded love, desperate.
Solas seemed to still not see her, but his eyes dimmed with surprise and sadness when their lips met. A small, sad moan escaped his lips, which pressed tightly against hers, with desperation.
As if he knew Lavellan's resolve was to save him but also to forget him.

She lifted her hand, wanting to touch him, wanting to pull him close, to wrap him in her arms, but Lavellan faded with a sigh, leaving him with that last brush of their lips floating in the air, like the last snowflake of winter.
And it was almost like that, Lavellan thought, enveloped in a black haze as she disappeared, locking her eyes on that violet she loved so much, now wrapped in confusion and pain.
Because her heart now held that love, fragile, like that snowflake.
And equally cold, she thought, as she closed her eyes, fainting.

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