#no beta we die like Solas's hopes and dreams

[damallarky]

So nothing gets me out of a ten year writer's slump like Dragon Age, apparently. I was going to write a quick character study for my Rook, but then it took a life of its own and turned into a 5000+ word monstrosity.

You can also read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57135346

Anyway, my first fic in ten years. Enjoy!

-

At the Black Swan tavern in Minrathous, an elven man with bright red hair sat on a massive barrel, tuning a lute. At first glance, it would appear that he was entirely engrossed in the instrument. If they paid close attention, however, they would notice his green eyes dart imperceptibly from guest to guest as if taking stock of each person who entered the tavern. 

To be fair, this was exactly what Renan was doing. The Shadow Dragons had been given a tip that the Venatori were having a meeting here tonight. He had been given instructions to keep an eye on them, make a note of how many attended, and if there was anyone there he recognized. 

Ren was good at that, using his talent at the lute, voice, and good looks to get him information, and he used his particular skill set often. Sometimes, he played in chamber halls and ballrooms of the Minrathous elite, and they were goldmines, to be sure. But if he was honest, he preferred the establishments of the working class. One would be surprised at how much information could be gained at the taverns and brothels of the world. 

Even better, Ren was familiar with this particular tavern, having played here countless times before. 

‘See anything good yet, Hope?’ He thought through the bond to his spirit companion, currently flitting between the rafters somewhere. He thought he had caught a glimpse of black feathers once or twice, but he couldn’t be sure. 

‘No. Not yet.’ He heard her say. 

Suddenly, in his mind’s eye, he saw the vision of a mouse cleaning itself on one of the rafters, not noticing the great, winged beast lurking in the shadows a mere foot away.

‘Hope…’, Ren moaned internally, ‘I just fed you.’

‘Well, yes… But I am still hungry.’

‘Well, I don’t want to find puked-up mouse bones on my pillow tonight. Again.'

‘Ugh. Fine.’ Hope grumbled.

Ren could practically feel the eye roll from his companion, and he struggled to keep his face neutral. He was halfway through tuning a string to A when his own stomach began to grumble. He hadn’t had much to eat today, or at all, what little he did have going to fill his daughter Esana’s belly. 

‘Maybe I should catch a mouse for you to eat.’ He heard Hope say. 

‘Thanks, but no…’

‘When was the last time you ate?’

‘In the morning.’

‘Which morning?’

‘…’

‘Renan…’

‘…Yesterday.’

‘RENAN.’

Ren winced against the shrill voice echoing in his head. A man sitting at a table nearby gave him an odd look, to which Ren responded with a sheepish wave.

“Lute strings!” He said in way of explanation. “They don’t make them like they used to.”

The man merely grunted and went back to his tankard. 

‘Look, Hope.’ He said. ‘I promise I will get something to eat tonight after we’re through.’

‘I will hold you to that, Renan.’

The tavern began to fill in earnest as more workers ended their day shift. Amongst the crowd, Ren noticed a group of shifty-eyed men gathering at a nondescript table closer to the back of the bar. It had probably the worst lighting in the entire tavern, but the darkness made it particularly well suited for those who maybe didn’t want to be watched too closely, such as lovers…. Or secretive organizations.

Interesting…

‘Is Esana still in our room?’ Ren asked as he tuned a string to E flat. 

‘Yes,’ came Hope’s reply, ‘She was asleep when I left. Why?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t want a repeat of last time, where she snuck out for an entire hour without anyone noticing after I explicitly told her not to?’

‘Ah, yes. Wherever does your daughter get her complete and utter disregard for authority? It is truly a mystery for the ages.’

Ren couldn’t help but laugh at that. Hope had become quite adept at using sarcasm over the years. 

‘Fair.’ He said. ‘I suppose she does come by it naturally.’

‘What is that mortal saying about apples and trees?’

‘Har har. Alright you made your point.’

Out of the corner of his eye, Ren saw a man walk in that he recognized. The thin, balding man was a Magister, albeit a low-ranking one. Ren couldn’t remember what the man actually did in the Magisterium, exactly, only that it was something asinine.

Asinine or note, that didn’t explain what he was doing here, of all places. The Black Swan was a little too plebeian for most Magisters.

‘Well, well.’ He thought ‘Look who’s slummin’ it up with the rest of us. Interesting.’

‘That is the man in charge of grain tax collection!’ He heard Hope say.

‘He is?’ Ren asked. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I pay attention, Renan.’

‘Oh… Well, I’m glad one of us does…’

Ren’s interest peaked even further as he watched as the magister walk to the back, taking a seat at the table with the group Ren had noticed earlier.

Very interesting…

‘Alright, it looks like the Venatori dinner party has started. Table in the back.’ He said. ‘Let’s get to work, shall we?’           

‘We shall. Good luck, Ren.’

‘You as well, Hope.’

Ren walked up the stairs to the small stage at the front of the bar. With a bright grin, he played the first few notes of the song on his lute and began to sing.

“Oh, come along with me, love.

Come along with me.

Come for one night and be my wife.

And come along with me.”

While still playing the notes to the chorus on the lute, Ren stopped singing to address the crowd.

“Grata! Bienviedo! Welcome good people of Minrathous.” He said. “My name is Rook, and I am here to add a little song to your evening. But enough with the pleasantries! The night is young, and I don’t know about you lot, but I am far, far too sober!”

His grin broadened as the crowd began to laugh and cheer. Ren heard a few of them shout, “Here, here!” and his playing grew stronger as he egged the crowd on further. 

“So, let’s raise a glass,” Ren crowed, “and let the night of drinking and debauchery begin!”

And, with that, he began to sing once more, his voice strong and clear.

“Well it is of a jolly butcher, as you might plainly see,

As he roved out one morning in search of company.

He went into a tavern and a fair girl he did see

And said ‘Come for one night and be my wife,

Oh come along with me!’”

Ren jumped off of the stage and began to weave in and around the tables as he continued his song. 

“He called for liquor of the best

And he made such fortune play

‘Come have a drink, it'll make us think

That it is our wedding day’”

‘I cannot hear them, Renan.’ He heard Hope’s voice say in his head as he played. ‘Distract them so I can fly down and slip underneath their table.’

Ren began to maneuver himself to the back of the bar, stopping every so often to play at another table to make it look less conspicuous. He danced around a waitress as she was carrying mugs of ale, giving her a bright smile that made her blush prettily. Finally, he stopped at the Venatori’s table, placing his foot on the edge of the table top with a thunk. Balancing his lute on his knee while he played, he leaned forward and winked at the Magister, who fumed. So focused were they all at the elf and his sheer audacity, that they didn’t notice the small black figure silently fly down from the rafters, dodge the various foot traffic, and tiptoe underneath the table.

‘I made it, Ren!’ Hope crowed, triumphantly.

Ren beamed at the crowd and continued his song.

“Well, he called for a candle to light their way to bed

And when he had her in the room these words to her he said

‘A sovereign I will give to you for to embrace your charms.’

And all that night, that fair young maid lied in the butcher's arms.

Oh, come along with me, love

Come along with me!

Come for one night and be my wife

And come along with me.

Well, about one year later he went roving out once more,

And he went into the tavern where he'd often been before.

He wasn't in there very long when his fair maid he did see,

And she brought forth a baby three months old and placed it on his knee.”

Some of the crowd began to chuckle as they realized where the song was going. Ren’s playing picked up in volume as he reached the punch line. 

“And when he saw the baby, he began to curse and swear

And he said unto that fair young maid, ‘Why did you bring him here?!’

‘Well, he is your own, kind sir’, she said, ‘Do not think me strange

Well, that sovereign that you gave to me, well I gives you back your change!’”

The crowd burst into raucous laughter, and Ren couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he finished the song.

“Oh, come along with me, love

Come along with me!

Come for one night and be my wife

And come along with me!”

With a flourish he played the last few chords as the crowd’s laughter turned into applause. He gave a bow, and as he stood back up he saw a flash of red dart through the crowd.

“Dammit.” He muttered. 

‘What happened?’ He heard Hope ask. He turned to the crowd.

“Thank you! You have been a wonderful audience!” Ren exclaimed. “Don’t forget to tip your waitresses! If you need me, I’ll be by the bar.”

The crowd quickly went back to their food and drink, and Ren made a beeline for the bar. 

‘I thought you said Esana was sleeping.’ He demanded through the bond. 

‘She was!’ The spirit replied. ‘I thought she was. Oh! But she might have been faking, now that I think about it. The snoring was a bit too loud.’

To which Ren could only groan.

The Maker had to have it out for him. That was the only explanation. 

‘Don’t move, Hope.’ He said. ‘Keep listening in on the Venatori. I want to have something to report back to the Dragons before the night is over.’

“Only one song tonight, Rook?” Asked one of the waitresses, Rosa, as she carried a tray full of food and drink.

“Can’t be helped, Rosa.” He said as he approached the bar. The barkeeper, a jovial older man with a wiry frame and bright eyes named Julius, poured him a glass of water with a knowing grin.

“Loose something?” He asked.

“Ugh.” Was Ren’s articulate response. Julius only laughed as Ren downed the water in one gulp before setting the glass back down on the counter with a thunk.

“You didn’t happen to see which way she went, did you?” Ren asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Aye. She snuck out the back door.” 

“Thank you, Julius.”

“Best of luck, Rook!” 

-

Ren stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the cool night air to center himself. He needed to remain calm. Esana couldn’t have gotten far.

In the distance he heard the sound of cheering. Children cheering. He relaxed slightly; he had a feeling whatever was going on, Esana was probably around, if not directly involved.

He followed the sound of cheering until he turned a corner and found himself staring at a veritable horde of children all gathered around a circle. In the middle, playing what looked like a game of bones against an older human boy, was Esana.

“That looks like another game for me!” She exclaimed as she grabbed the copper pieces and put it in her already fairly substantial pile of winnings.

The boy didn’t seem too pleased. 

“That’s not fair!” He cried. “You cheated!”

“How do you cheat at bones, Dax?” One of the other children asked. Dax’s face only grew more red as the other children began to laugh. 

“Yeah, Dax.” Esana taunted as she began to count her winnings. “Don’t be a sore looser.”

“Why you-“

Whatever Dax was about to say was cut short by the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the alley. Out of the darkness, a behemoth of a man emerged. He had lank, dark hair that clung to his face and a scar that ran from one side of his neck to the other. He approached the children, most of whom had already scurried away, and sneered at them with yellowing teeth. 

“What do we have here?” The large man asked as he loomed over the children eyeing the pile of money. “You brats got some money for me?”

“No!” Esana cried. “That’s mine!” She stood up, putting herself between the man and the coin. 

Ren could have sworn his heart had stopped beating then, as he watched the giant man loom over his daughter. His daughter, who looked so very small standing in that man’s shadow. Thinking quickly, Ren grabbed a bottle from a nearby drunkard and flicked a coin his way before the man could complain too much.  

“What did you say, little knife ear?” The man sneered as he pulled an out a wicked looking dagger. “Perhaps I should teach you a lesson of what happens when pests like you talk back to your betters.”

Esana’s eyes widened as the knife was held merely inches from her face. The man made to grab her, but before he could do anything, Ren staggered out of the darkness as if drunk, practically barreling into the man. He made a show of spilling the contents of his bottle all over the man’s clothes. 

“M’so sorry, serah.” He said, slurring his words together. “It seems I-“ and he hiccuped here for effect “-I can’t seem to hold me liquor! Can’t seem to carry it neither.”

Ren gave his best drunken laugh as he pointed to the almost empty bottle of booze. Predictably, the man took the bait, grabbing Ren by the collar and shoving him hard against the wall. 

“Stupid elf! I should gut you here and now!” 

Too busy threatening him, the man didn’t notice Ren pull on the Fade, summoning flames in his left hand. 

“Gut me?” Ren asked, feigning innocence. “While you’re on fire?”

The man stared at Ren in confusion before bursting into laughter.

“On fire? You must be drunker than I-“

Suddenly, the man let out an inhuman screech as Ren held the flame against the man’s alcohol drenched clothes, quickly setting them ablaze with a satisfying woosh. The man dropped Ren as he tried to quickly strip off his burning clothes.

Ren, for his part, didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing his daughter, he took off running down the narrow alley. 

They had made it almost halfway back to the Black Swan when he stopped to catch his breath. He looked down at his daughter and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Getting down on one knee he began to look her over.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine.” 

Ren nodded. That would have to do. For now, at least.

Together, father and daughter ran the rest of the way back to the Black Swan. When finally they arrived at the back entrance, the adrenaline seemed to leave Ren all at once, leaving him drained. He sank onto one of the large crates nearby, placing his head in his hands as the reality of what almost happened hit him like a druffalo. 

Esana stood there nervously, sensing, perhaps, that she had crossed a line somewhere. 

“Papa, I’m-“

Ren cut her off. 

“Esana,” he began, frustration filling the void where fear and adrenaline once were, “How many times have I told you that you cannot go out at night on your own?”

“I was just-“

“And yet, you continue to deliberately disobey me. And for what? A handful of coin?”

“It wasn’t just a handful…” she muttered. 

Something inside Ren snapped.

“HE COULD HAVE TAKEN YOU!” Ren shouted as he gripped his daughter’s shoulders desperately. “PAWNED YOU OFF AT THE SLAVE MARKET! OR WORSE, HE COULD HAVE KILLED YOU! DUMPED YOUR BODY SOMEWHERE AND I WOULD HAVE BEEN NONE THE WISER. WOULD THE COIN HAVE BEEN WORTH IT THEN? WELL?”

Hot, angry tears streamed down Esana’s face as she pulled herself out of her father’s grip and ran into the tavern. Ren tried to grab her but she was too quick.

“Esana!” He yelled. “Esana get back here!”

Instead, he heard the sound of a door slamming from upstairs, where the guest rooms were. He looked around the tavern and noticed that it was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers who seemed too deep into their cups to notice the elven family drama going on around them. He also noticed a distinct lack of Venatori. They must have left earlier as well. 

Shit.

With a sigh, Ren felt all of the previous anger bleed out of him, leaving him bone-tired. With great effort, Ren dragged himself to the bar, rubbing at his eyes before anyone could see the moisture in them. 

“Julius,” he called, “Can I have another glass of water, please?”

The barkeep popped out from the kitchen, a bowl of something heavenly smelling in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other.

“I’ll do you one better.” He said, setting the bowl, some sort of stew, in front of Ren. “Here, eat. You look like you’re about to keel over where you stand.”

“Julius, you are a gentleman and a scholar.”

“Yes, yes. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Ren took a few spoonfuls before his appetite left him entirely as the monster currently gnawing at his stomach felt more akin to guilt than hunger. He stirred the soup in lazy circles with his spoon, occasionally making a half-hearted attempt at taking a bite before giving up entirely. 

“I need to go talk to Esana.” He said with a sigh.

“Rook, wait…”

Ren looked up and was surprised to see the old barkeep looking at him with eyes full of understanding… and a bit of sorrow.

“I don’t usually tell people this for obvious reasons, but… my father was also a freeman.” He said. “And an elf, too.”

Ren’s eyes widened. A lot of things about Julius suddenly made sense. The slight build, the bright eyes…

The easiness in which he accepted Ren and Esana… 

He looked at the man in a whole new light then, silently wondering how he never noticed the way Julius’s ears tapered to a point, a tell-tale sign of the man’s heritage.

“I’ll be.” Ren exclaimed. “I’d had no idea I was in the presence of a fellow knife-ear. I’ll make you a flower crown. Maybe even show you some of my favorite places to frolic naked in the moonlight.”

“I am quite capable of going to a whore house on my own, thank you.”

Both men burst into laughter, loud enough in the almost empty tavern to draw the attention of the last remaining guests. The confused stares sobered both men up fairly quickly, and Julius continued whatever point he was getting at.

“Before I was born,” he said, “my father had somehow managed to buy his and my mother’s freedom. Never did quite figure out how he managed to pull it off...”

Julius’s eyes grew distant as he stared at something only he could see. After a moment, he blinked, and turned his attention back to Ren. In all the years he had known the man, Ren had never seen an expression so solemn on his face as he did now.

“When I was Esana’s age, I also never… appreciated the sacrifices my father had made for my family. For me... And Maker, there were so many…”

“And you do now?” Ren asked.

“Aye.” Said Julius. “I do now. Very much so. And I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but Esana will too.”

Ren considered the older man’s words as he took a few more bites of his stew. He pushed himself off of the counter and dusted himself off. 

“Thank you, Julius.” He said. “For everything.”

“Anytime, Rook.“

Ren made his way up the stairs and down the hall to where he and Esana were staying. As quietly as he could, he crept in, closing the door behind him. 

They were fortunate enough to stay in a room with two cots this time, an upgrade to their usual fair. He noticed that the cot on the left was occupied by a relatively Esana sized lump buried underneath the blankets. On the desk , underneath an open window, was a rook. It sat atop a wooden perch as it cleaned its feathers with its long, grey beak. 

Hearing the door close, it looked up and flew over to where Ren sat on the empty cot, silently landing on his knee.

“Hey, Hope.” He uttered.

“…Why is your doublet singed?” Was the spirit’s response.

“Good to see you too.”

“Renan…”

Ren looked down at his doublet, his favorite one too, and, sure enough, he noticed singe marks all long the bottom hem. 

And lo, did the Maker say “Fuck this Elf in particular.” He thought.

“I suppose it does not matter. I am sure it can be fixed.” Hope said kindly. Then, through the bond, he heard: ‘Esana was very upset, but she would not tell me what happened.’

‘She decided to pick fights with grown men and then I lost my temper and yelled at her.’

‘Ah. I see.’

Hope climbed up Ren’s arm to perch on his shoulder.

“I think I am going to go out.” She announced. “Stretch my wings for a bit.”

“Have fun.”

Hope rubbed up against his cheek affectionately, nuzzling him much like she had when he was a boy, newly arrived in the Tevinter Imperium and being sold off like chattel.

‘You can fix this.’ He heard her say through the bond. 

With that, Hope flew out the open window and into the warm summer’s night, leaving father and daughter alone to talk. After a minute or two of sitting silently in the dark, Ren spoke.

“I know you’re awake, Esana.” He said. “Can we talk? Please?”

A loud sniffle from underneath the covers was the only response he got. With a sigh, Ren pulled off his boots and set them neatly by his bedside table.

“It’s ok, Esana. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He said as he took off his now singed doublet. “I’ll talk then, ok?”

Ren took a moment to gather his thoughts. He stared down at his hands, looking at the small knicks and callouses from years of playing the lute. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, and let the loose sleeves reveal old scar tissue across his wrists from where too-heavy shackles had rubbed his skin raw years ago. They certainly weren’t pretty, which was part of the reason why he always covered them, but they weren’t the worst of his scars. He knew his back was a gnarled web of lash marks, fifty in total. They still ached from time to time, too…

He made a vow, long ago, that the Imperium would never hurt him, or his loved ones, ever again. And he intended to keep that promise.

“I love you, Esana.” He said, finally. “And I am very sorry that I yelled at you like I did. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

In the darkness, Ren saw two bright blue eyes (her mother’s eyes, he thought distantly) peek out from underneath the covers, watching him warily. Taking that as progress, he continued.

“The truth is, I was scared. What you did was incredibly dangerous. I truly thought that man was going to hurt you, and that terrified me.”

Esana crawled out from underneath the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over and refusing to look anywhere but her bare feet. Ren noticed that she was already in her nightgown. She must have changed after she stormed upstairs. 

With a small smile, Ren patted the empty space beside him in invitation. Esana quickly crossed the short distance to sit with her father, but still refused to look up at him, even after he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to his side. 

“I just wanted to help.” She said miserably, swiping at her eyes as fresh tears  began to fall. “I thought that if I could earn money like you do, then you would let me join you for once.” 

“Esana…”

“I just wanted to be like you. I’m tired of being treated like a baby.”

Ren tucked an errant lock of red hair behind his daughter’s ear. 

“Esana,” he said, “I don’t need you to be like me. In fact, that’s the last thing in the world I want you to be. And while I appreciate the help, I’m your father. It’s my job to take care of you, not the other way around.” 

“But I want to help!” Esana cried, almost desperately. “I want to be out there, with you!”

Ren chewed his bottom lip as he pondered Esana’s words. He certainly did not want to expose her to the drunks of Minrathous, but he also knew that soon she would be turning thirteen. Too old to stay willingly cloistered away. Maybe he could bring her along every now and then, introduce her little by little to his world in a way where he could monitor her and keep her safe, rather than having her go out behind his back…

Still, he couldn’t help but feel he was missing something. Something important. There was a frantic edge to Esana’s pleading that Ren couldn’t understand. Not for the first time, Ren wished his wife were still alive. Leena would have known what to do. She was good at that sort of thing.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ren began, cupping his daughter’s chin gently, “how about I teach you how to play that spare flute I have? Then, you could play with me. Sometimes.”

Esana stared up at her father with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“Sometimes!” He reiterated. “Only the jobs that I think are safe, ok?”

“Really?” she asked, excitement and a strange tinge of something akin to relief shining in her eyes.

“Yes.” Ren laughed. “Really.”

Esana launched herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug which he returned without a thought. 

“I love you, papa.” She said.

“I love you, too, Esana.”

Not long after Ren noticed his daughter’s eyelids grow heavy and her shoulders begin to droop. He chuckled as he watched her try to stifle a yawn.

“Alright little Nuglette, I think that’s enough excitement for one day. To bed with you.” 

“Ok, papa.” Esana murmured sleepily as she crawled back into her own cot. Suddenly, that frantic edge that Ren noticed earlier returned.

“Papa…” she said, “Could I stay in your cot? Until I fall asleep?”

“Sure.” Ren said with a small smile.

Esana quickly scurried from her cot to join her father. She snuggled herself up against him, and he felt her relax as if she had been holding in some sort of tension. 

“Esana,” Ren asked as she tucked herself in the crook of his arm, “Is everything alright?”

Esana hastily nodded, not quite looking her father in the eye. Ren sighed.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

Another nod. 

“Ok. Good night, Esana. Sweet dreams.”

Ren didn’t notice Esana wince at the mention of dreams. He didn’t notice his daughter squeeze her eyes shut, desperately trying not to think of the monsters in her dreams that hounded her, begging her to let them in. 

Instead Ren began to sing softly, voice barely above a whisper as he sang an old Elvish lullaby, one that his own mother sang to him when he was little. It didn’t take long for Esana to drift off into the Fade. No nightmares plagued her this time, safe as she was in her father’s arms and a song promising only pleasant things echoing in her ears. 

For Ren, however, sleep evaded him despite his exhaustion. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t mind and was content to watch the rise and fall of Esana’s chest as his daughter slept soundly, snuggled up against him. Truth be told, he cherished moments such as these because he knew that sooner rather than later, his daughter would grow too old to cuddle with her papa. For now, though, he placed a kiss upon his little girl’s brow and held her as tightly as he could without waking her.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, only that it was near dawn when Hope flew in through the window, the first rays of light gently reflecting off of her feathers, giving them a purplish hue. 

“Morning, Hope.” Whispered Ren as he watched her land on the bedside table. 

“Good morning, Renan.” She whispered back. “I am happy to see you two worked it out.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Ren shifted slightly to face his friend. “You were gone an awfully long time. Did something happen?”

“I ran into Neve Gallius. She would like you to meet her later this evening.” 

“Ah… and what did our favorite Ice Queen want? Did she say?”

“Only that she would like to introduce you to an aquantence of hers. Some sort of… novelist?”

“Of course she does…” Ren murmured tiredly, not really paying attention. 

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the silence of the early morning. Ren was just about to finally drift off to sleep when Hope looked up from where she was preening her feathers and stared out of the window with an unusually concerned expression.

“Renan…” she whispered, so quietly Ren barely heard her. 

“Mmm?”

“There is a storm coming.” Was all she said.

-

Little did Ren know, as he later found himself staring up at the terrifying visages of his Dalish mother's myths, how true those words were about to become. 

[damallarky]

Veilguard Prologue, Part 2: Aisling

Guess who finally finished the second of her pre-Veilguard prologue fics? It's Part 2: Solavellan Bugaloo, and by Bugaloo, I mean an emotional rollercoaster. Things need to get worse before they get better, but don't worry, guys; things will get better. I promise.

Also, my Inquisitor, Aisling, has a stutter. I based it on my own experiences with my (admittedly very mild) stutter and the research I did, but if anyone has any suggestions on how to improve or more accurately represent stuttering, please let me know.

If you prefer, this fic is also on AO3. Check it out!

Summary:

Solas's plans will soon come to fruition, but before he can be free of his debt owed to the People, he must ensure the safety of those he loves most. That is how he finds himself at the home of his heart, the former Inquisitor Aisling Lavellan and her (and his) children.

AKA Solas and Aisling have their first honest conversation in a decade. Like I said, it's a rollercoaster. Buckle up, folks.

Mentions of my Inquisitor's children Ren and Neria.

-

Solas stood out on former Inquisitor Aisling Lavellan’s balcony, staring at the dazzling blue of the Rivaini coastline below. The Inquisitor and her family had moved to Rivain a year or two ago, ostensibly to be closer to Aisling’s older brother Arin, who was currently living with a certain Tevinter Magister, but also to get away from the ruins of their former home after the demon incident at Skyhold had nearly leveled the place.

Another one of Solas’s many, many failings.

However, Solas quite liked the new home Aisling had built for herself. It was a stone cottage that seemed to be built into the very cliffside it stood on, with stone steps leading directly to the beach and ocean below. Inside, it was homely, with plush carpets and furs, plants in the windows, and books scattered about the place. Momentos from Aisling’s time as the Inquisitor filled the various nooks and crannies, and nearly every wall had some example of art made by her children over the years.

Solas had wished he could have explored further and delved into the life Aisling had led the past decade. But he thought better of it, content to wait in her bedroom until she returned, as she had asked him to do.

Solas had informed Aisling of his arrival, of course. He had sought her out in the Fade and asked her permission to speak with her and see her. His plans were approaching fruition. In fact, they needed to be expedited if he was correct in his assumption on the strength of the Evunaris’s prison. He had taken the necessary precautions. Ran countless calculations to ensure the minimum amount of damage, but…

Solas’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing. Slowly, he turned around and, for the first time since the Qunari invasion, he saw her. 

At thirty-four, former Inquisitor Aisling Lavellan looked much the same as she had the last time he had seen her, except, of course, for the prosthetic arm, a strange contraption of gears and lyrium that had the markings of a Dagna creation. Her hair was perhaps a bit longer, currently out of her usual braided updo and hanging in loose curls down her back. Her face, too, was perhaps a bit more worn, age and duty just barely beginning to etch fine lines onto her freckled skin. To Solas, however, she was just as beautiful now as she was when he first saw her in Haven all those years ago… a perfect creature in an imperfect world.

He and his kin had once claimed divinity, but before him was a true goddess. She with her soul that shone bright enough to pierce even the darkest parts of his ancient and wretched heart. His fire-haired lady, with her boundless compassion and endless curiosity. The top of her head just barely reached the bottom of Solas’s chin (perfect, he remembered, for tucking her close to him and breathing in the wool and amber scent of her hair), but still, Solas felt small underneath her gaze. He had to fight every instinct not to throw himself at her feet and declare himself her supplicant. To grovel and plead for her forgiveness for being the penitent sinner that he was.

He could not, however. Not while his people still suffered. Not while he still had to fix the mistakes of his past. A sinner he was indeed and there was penance still to be paid… the price of which was the loss of his heart.

He had only wished that he did not have to take her down with him.

Solas had hoped against hope that Aisling would forget him. That she would move on to someone else, someone younger and more worthy of her love. But as the years went on, she had only doubled down on her efforts to find him and bring him home to her. He had read the reports from his agents about how she would work herself to the point of exhaustion. Had listened to her desperate pleas and disparaging cries from the Fade.

He had wanted her so desperately to live, but instead, she was slowly killing herself, bit by bit. His plan to bring down the Veil would only be the final nail in her coffin.

Then, of course, there was Neria… And Ren.

Neria was, much like her mother, a complication he had not foreseen but, also like her mother, could not bring himself to regret. Solas had made so, so many mistakes in his life, but never would he consider Neria among them. Not when his heart swelled with pride as he read reports from his spies that mentioned her cleverness or nearly burst with love as he watched her from a distance while she played and explored the Fade with spirits of Joy and Curiosity.

Each night, Solas wanted desperately to reach out, to talk to her. To close the gap between himself and his daughter that he had unknowingly carved out nearly twelve years ago, and that only seemed to grow with each passing day.

He knew so little about his own child, and what details he did know were shallow things he knew only through his network of spies (and whatever Joy and Curiosity would share with him). He knew that she loved reading, but he did not know what her favorite books were. He knew she had inherited his sweet tooth, but he did not know which sweets she preferred. He knew that she had a love of animals, but which ones Solas could not say.

His child was practically a stranger to him as he was to her, and oh, did that make him want to weep.

Ren was similar, but different. Unlike Neria, Ren wasn’t Solas’s child by blood, but rather the child of Aisling’s late bond mate who had died before the little boy was even born. Though not related by blood, Solas still felt attached to him. Protective of him, even. He remembered fondly showing the then two-year-old how to build snowmen in Haven, or the shrieks of joy as Solas summoned wisps of light to play with him, or how the boy would toddle after him while he painted in the rotunda of Skyhold. Then, as he and Aisling grew closer, how he would help her put him to bed, telling him stories in Elvhen until the toddler drifted off into the Fade.

After Solas had left, he had felt his loss as keenly as he did Aisling’s and then, later, Neria’s. Regretted the pain he caused just as deeply. In the Fade, he watched as the boy grew into a kind, thoughtful young man, with a spirit much like his mother’s. Ren did not shy away from the denizens of the Fade (Curiosity was particularly attached to him and was often seen in his company if they weren’t entertaining Neria) but engaged with them as well. It was the same in the waking world, if Solas’s agents were to be believed. In their reports, which Solas had started to think were filled with such details for some ulterior motive, they would mention how mature Ren was for his age. How kind and thoughtful he could be.

Solas would have been proud to call him his son, if Ren and Aisling would have let him have that honor.

Yes, he had a duty to his people and a duty to every modern Elf in Thedas. Still, he could not deny that he had a duty to his children as well and, of course, their mother.

Which, Solas had to remind himself, was why he was here. To warn them.

That, and to see them one last time.

“Inquisitor.” He said, voice gruff. “You look… well.”

That was when he heard the growling. From behind Aisling leapt a large mabari, it’s coat a bluish silver hue in the evening light. The war hound put itself between Solas and the Inquisitor, fangs bared and growling warningly. Solas stood his ground, staring directly into the mabari’s eyes in challenge, his own figurative hackles raised. The mabari, to its credit, merely flinched but did not back down from what it now realized was no mere man.

“Sathan, Fenan,” Aisling said, grabbing the dog by its massive collar. It was so large she had to use both hands. “Atish dur!”

The mabari, Fenan, stopped growling at once, though he seemed reluctant to retreat entirely.

“Is ju teldin nuem,” she promised, rubbing the dog’s neck. Satisfied, the great beast trotted off, choosing to sit by the door where he continued to watch Solas like a hawk.

“I’m…” Aisling began, “I’m s-sorry. He isn’t n-n-no-normally like this…”

Solas noticed her stammer, which was usually worse when she was excited or tense. Or frightened. He hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

“When did you get a mabari?” Solas asked, desperately trying to keep his voice casual.

“He was a gift for Neria. Cullen’s mabari had puppies, and he let her and Ren p-pick one each.”

“A fine gift. I have heard that there is no better a companion than a mabari.”

“He and Neria are normally attached at the hip, but he wouldn’t leave my side this evening. He must have sensed s-something was off, and unlike Ren’s mabari, Fenan can be stubborn.

“…Ah.”

“Indeed.”

“Inq-“ he began but stopped himself. They were beyond titles now. “Aisling. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

Aisling nodded curtly.

“P-p-pl-ple-“ she gave a frustrated sigh, shoulders slumping as her mouth refused to form the words. She tried again. “P-please sit,” she said, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace before sitting down in the one opposite it. Solas sat down, perhaps a bit reluctantly. He felt a sudden onslaught of nervousness overcome him, being in her presence again after so long.

“You said that you needed to speak with me?” Aisling asked.

Solas took in a deep breath. Exhaled.

“I will be bringing down the Veil soon,” he said. The silence that followed nearly made him wince.

Solas watched as Aisling’s expression went from shocked to furious to exhausted in mere seconds before she turned and stared into the fire, face unreadable once more.

“Aisling, I-“

“When?” she asked, cutting him off.

 Solas sighed.

“Less than a year,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Possibly sooner, he thought, if the Evunaris keep chipping away at their prison.

He could feel Aisling’s penetrating gaze on him now, but he could not bring himself to look her in the eye. When he finally worked up the courage to lift his head, he saw Aisling with her chin resting in her hand, her real hand, as she stared pensively into the fireplace.

They sat there in silence, the only noises being the sound of the waves being carried through the open window and the crackling of the fireplace before them.

“Neria will be turning twelve this year,” Aisling intoned, almost casually, before fixing Solas with a penetrating stare, “will… will she even live to see it? What about Ren?”

Solas felt as if the rug had been pulled out from underneath him.

“That is…” he swallowed hard. “That is why I wished to speak with you. I am doing my utmost to minimize the damage bringing down the Veil will cause,” he explained, his words tumbling out of him faster and faster as he went on. “And while I believe I am close to a solution that I believe will benefit the most amount of people in the long run-“

Aisling stared at him slack jawed and in disbelief. She looked at Solas as if he had sprouted a second head.

“-I cannot guarantee Ren or Neria’s safety, unless…

“…Unless what, Solas?” Aisling asked, the apprehension clear in her voice.

“…Unless the three of you go into hiding. I have a few locations, safe houses where I believe the three of you can wade out the worst of what is to come.”

The silence that followed then was nearly deafening. It was deadly quiet; no noise seemed to pierce through whatever spell befell the two of them, not the fire dancing in the fireplace or the waves outside of the window, or even the whining of the mabari still at Aisling’s door.

Aisling stood up from her chair, slowly, as if possessed.

“What?” she asked, her voice colder than ice. Her tone cut right to Solas’s core, and he winced. Aisling then began to pace erratically, back and forth in front of the fireplace like a caged animal.

“Aisling,” he pleaded as he watched her pace, “if you never believe another word I say, please believe this: I promise that I will do everything in my power to keep the three of you safe.”

Aisling stopped her pacing to swing around and face him.

“Everything, except stopping this madness!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up in frustration.

“Do you think I take joy in this?” Solas snapped. “Do you think I want to bring destruction upon the people of this world?”

“So you c-claim, and yet you still continue with a plan to do just that!”

Solas wanted to scream. Why couldn’t Aisling see? Why couldn’t she understand?

“What I do,” he said through clenched teeth, “I do for the betterment of the People. By bringing down the Veil, the lives of Ren and Neria, and Elven children across Thedas would be improved!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT, SOLAS!” Aisling yelled. “BY BRINGING DOWN THE VEIL YOU CAN JUST AS EASILY GET THEM KILLED!”

Something deep inside Solas, something that he kept carefully buried away for eons, snapped. He leaped from his chair as if burned.

“I HAVE ALREADY KILLED THEM!” he yelled back. “AS I HAVE ALREADY KILLED YOU AND EVERY OTHER ELF IN THEDAS!”

Solas’s ears began to ring, and his legs felt like jelly. Then they gave out completely, and he fell to his knees before the former Inquisitor.

“Do you not see?” He cried, pleadingly, silently begging her to understand. “By creating the Veil, I have already condemned you, condemned both of our children, to death. I have destroyed…”

Solas felt himself trail off, unable to finish his sentence as he struggled to breathe. He felt the guilt of thousands upon thousands of deaths wrap around his neck like a hangman’s noose. Elf or spirit- at this point it hardly mattered. He could feel the weight of all the races of Thedas, every living soul that ever was and would ever be, as they cried out for justice. He could feel their spectral hands grab at the noose around his neck and pull and pull and pull…

“…I have destroyed everything.” He choked out.

Aisling knelt beside him. She took him into her arms and held him tightly, rubbing circles into his back in a soothing gesture. He buried his face into her shoulder, heedless of the snot and the tears he was surely getting all over her as he wept like he hadn’t wept in an age, thousands of years' worth of grief pouring out of him in waves that would have pulled him under were it not for Aisling’s anchoring presence.

“Ar lath ma,” he wept, “ma vhenan, ma ghi’lal elen. Ar lath ma sul bellanaris, i ir abelas.” 

“Tel abelas,” Aisling muttered, her own tears spilling down her cheeks and dripping onto the back of Solas’s head while he continued to sob onto her shoulder.

“I am trapped. Trapped on a path I no longer wish to walk.”

“You need not walk it alone, Solas, if you must walk it at all,” she grabbed him by the face, stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. “P-p-pl-please ma lath, if this is something you must do, then let us find a way to do it together. Safely.”

“I…”

For one brief, shining moment, Solas considered it. Aisling had done the impossible before. But this…

No. He couldn’t do that. Not to her. Never to her.

“I cannot,” he said, fervently shaking his head, “I cannot do that to you, Aisling. Please do not ask that of me.”

Aisling let go of him and sat there on the floor in front of her fireplace, looking as broken and defeated as Solas had ever seen her. He hated that he was the cause of it. Solas needed to leave… Leave before he broke her heart even further. With great effort, he hauled himself to his feet.

“I will send word,” he said, his voice hoarse and hallow, “when I have found a suitable location to keep you and the children safe from the worst of the fallout. I am sorry, Aisling.”

Slowly, Solas made his way towards the door, each step a struggle. He hadn’t made it far, however, when he heard Aisling call out for him.

“Solas, wait,” she said. “P-please don’t leave. Not yet.”

He shut his eyes tightly, knowing that, deep down, he should leave before he did any more damage. However, the part of him that was more impulsive and reckless, that was more wolf than man and that kissed her back in the Fade over a decade ago, demanded that he stay. Stay and bask in her presence for as long as he could before he would no longer have the chance to.

Solas turned around and sat back down in the chair. In the end, he didn’t stand a chance.

The silence that followed was painful. Aisling seemed just as surprised that he had chosen to stay as he was.

“How is Ren?” He asked, eventually wanting to keep things civil while also learning as much about the children he abandoned as he could while he could.

“Tall,” she said, “taller than me now,” Aisling smiled softly and stared into the distance, looking at something only she could see. “Ren’s been doing well here in Rivain, though he misses Skyhold t-terribly. He’s been learning magic from myself and Dorian, when he has the time. He’s picking it up fast; I’m proud of him. Dorian even has Ren help him with his research sometimes.”

Solas wanted to ask about what they were researching, but he kept it to himself. It wasn’t his business.

“Ren has also taken quite a liking to p-painting over the last few years. He wants to try a fresco at some point…”

“A fresco?” Solas asked, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“A fresco,” she said with a nod and a knowing smile. “He’s been mostly sticking to canvas, but if he is serious about it, and I believe he is, I can think of a few places here he c-could try it out on.”

“I…” Solas faltered, unsure if he was about to cross some sort of boundary, “…I could send for the type of paint he would need. Brushes as well.”

His fears were unfounded, however. Aisling beamed, clearly happy with the idea.

“He would like that,” she said.

The room delved into awkward silence once more.

“Have you b-been well?” She asked.

Solas couldn’t help the huff that escaped him.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I have been… well enough.”

Aisling quirked an eyebrow, doubt written plainly on her face before she burst into raucous laughter.

“Sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes, “it’s just… Neria does the exact same thing, you know? When she’s been c-caught in a lie and doesn’t want to answer. She evades the question.”

“I was not evading the question.”

“Neria says the exact same thing.”

He snorted. Then frowned.

“Neria lies?” he asked, not at all liking the implications, whispers of traitor, harellen, echoing in his skull. Aisling gave him a sympathetic look.

“She’s eleven, Solas.” She said, fondness in her voice. Whether it was for him or for Neria, Solas could not say. “She’s eleven and she has a t-tendency to sneak live animals into her room when she thinks no one is watching.”  

“…live animals?”

“Oh yes… You should have seen the snake brood she incubated.”

“Does she have any preference when it comes to animals?” Solas asked, eager for any scrap of information he could gather on his little girl. His da’vhenan.

“Well, she loves wolves,” said Aisling. Then, with a roll of her eyes, she added, “No idea where that came from…”

“A coincidence, I’m sure,” said Solas, unable to stop himself from grinning.

“Of course,” Aisling replied, a small smirk on her face. “She also loves reptiles. And that one, truly, is a mystery to me.”

“She likes… reptiles?”

“Yes. Lizards, snakes, turtles. We see them all the time here in Rivain. She and Ren will spend hours down by the shore looking for them.”

“And does she find any?”

“Usually. She’ll often sketch the ones she finds in her notebook and show them to me. She’s gotten quite g-g-g-goo…” Aisling let out another frustrated sigh, “…she draws very well, too. You would be proud.”

“I am,” Solas declared. “Proud of her, that is. Proud of both of them… even though I know I have no right to be.”

Hastily, he swiped the moisture from his eyes. If Aisling noticed, she didn’t comment on it, merely stared at him sadly. There was so much he had missed because of his duties. First words and steps. Their first sparks of magic. He should have been there for all of it. Should have been there to watch them learn and grow and…

You should be there for them now, a voice in his head hissed.

And he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to… To give up on his wretched goals and go hunt for lizards on the beach with Neria and teach Ren how to paint frescos.

He felt himself spiraling once more, dangling on the edge of some dark precipice, when Aisling gently touched his hand, bringing him back to himself with a start.

“I-“ he began, “Forgive me, I-“

“Solas, would you like to learn more about her? Ren as well?” Aisling asked kindly.

It was not often that Solas found himself at a loss for words. This time, however, he couldn’t seem to be able to get any past the lump firmly lodged in his throat. He could only nod enthusiastically.

And that was how, hours later, the two of them ended up on the rug in front of Aisling’s fireplace. She had regaled him with as many stories of Neria and Ren as she could. Many of them were tiny, inconsequential things, but to Solas, each little tidbit of information was as precious to him as any jewel.

He laughed right along with Aisling as she told him of the time Neria brought a toad she found to her Aunt Vivienne’s fancy dinner party. Both Neria and Ren had tried to catch it, but the frog was apparently evasive and had landed right on the lap of one of the Orlesian noblemen. He was also surprised, pleasantly so, to find out that Vivienne had apparently found it just as hilarious and had a habit of serving that particular Orlesian frog legs whenever she hosted him.

He marveled at the tale of how the children discovered their respective magic; Ren apparently summoned wisps of light one night when he woke up to find his room frighteningly dark, only to excitedly show off his new trick to his mother the very next morning. Neria and Solas couldn’t help the bark of laughter that came from him when he heard the tale, he had accidentally summoned fire. Apparently, her Uncle Dorian had been showing the little girl magic tricks involving small flames, only for Neria to decide she wanted to try it herself. It was a surprise to them both when she summoned her own flames, and luckily, the only damage done was to Dorian’s mustache... And, perhaps, his pride.

He felt a spike of righteous fury when he learned that the Iron Bull had apparently promised both children to take them dragon hunting and only calmed once Aisling told him that she herself had promised the Qunari that she would turn the Iron Bull into the Iron Steer if he ever dared pull such a stunt. Solas couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. Apparently, the subject had never been brought up since.

So caught up in absorbing as much information about the children as he could, he didn’t notice how the two of them were slowly inching their way closer and closer to one another until they had both subconsciously reached for the other’s hand, entwining their fingers together like that was where they belonged. Solas was the first to notice, looking down at his long, slender hand as it engulfed her much smaller one. Aisling followed his gaze and blushed furiously.

She didn’t, Solas noticed, remove her hand.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Solas,” she said, giving him a pointed look, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Ah. She is privy to my ways, it seems…”

Solas thought of how best to answer her. The simple answer was that he was painfully lonely, scared, and unsure. But he didn’t want to tell her that. Not after everything else, he laid at her feet. He had already burdened her with enough worries for one night.

 He didn’t want to tell her of the nightmares that came more and more frequently as of late. Of the Evunaris breaking free from their prison and hunting him down, hunting Aisling and the children down. Images of their corpses haunted his dreams, and many nights, he would wake up with a scream, so panicked, so unwilling to return to the Fade that was once his home, that he would simply stare at the ceiling until dawn came.

 Nor did it feel right to complain about how isolated he felt. How his home, the Lighthouse, that was once a place of refuge, had become something of a prison. How alone he felt as he ate after sharing so many meals with the Inquisition… With his friends... With her… How he had simply started skipping meals, just so he wouldn’t have to eat alone at his long table, meant for more than one single, solitary old fool.

He couldn’t tell her those things. Those were his burdens to bear. Problems of his own doing that he could do nothing but endure alone. He could, however, give her one simple truth.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, finally. “Terribly, in fact.”

At that, Aisling leaned forward, her large green eyes sparkling in the firelight. She was very close to him now, close enough that he could have easily run his thumb across her cheek or tuck a lock of bright red hair behind her ear. For a moment, Solas could have sworn he could smell the scent of wool and amber.

“Truly?” she asked.

“Truly,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Truly, madly, and deeply.”

“Sweet talker,” she replied, and before he knew what was happening, Aisling grabbed him by the collar and kissed him passionately. Then she pulled back, her eyelashes fluttering, and Solas knew if she had asked him at that very moment to give up his mission, he would have done it. Laid down his arms and throw himself at her mercy.

(Months later, trapped in a prison of his own making, Solas would replay this scene in his head over and over again, silently wishing Aisling had asked him and that he wasn’t such a coward so he could have made that decision himself.)

“Stay with me tonight,” Aisling said in a breathless voice that sent shivers down Solas’s spine. “Just for tonight. Please…”

“Vhenan,” he growled.

“Let us pretend. Just for tonight…”

“We shouldn’t,” Solas said even as he went in for a kiss of his own, his hands finding their favorite spot right above the small of her back.

It was a token resistance, and he knew it.

They barely made it off the rug before they were laughing and tossing aside their clothes (or, in Solas’s case, armor) without a care in the world. Aisling yelped, then laughed brightly as Solas scooped her up, bridal style, and carried her off to her bed, laying her down as gently as he could. He crawled over top of her, and as he did, he lavished her body with kisses, worshiping her.

“Ar lath ma,” he whispered with each kiss pressed against her skin. “Ar lath ma. Ar lath ma. Ar lath ma.”

Finally, as he slid inside of her, his body fitting with hers perfectly as if it had been made that way, he did as Aisling bid him to do and allowed himself to pretend. Pretend that Fen’harel and all his terrible duties were dead and buried with the rest of the Elvhen empire and that he was allowed to be simply Solas, the wandering Elven apostate.

In his mind’s eye, he saw it. The life this Solas led.

Solas, with his clever daughter and thoughtful stepson, whom he would be teaching everything he knew. Magic, the Fade, the Elvhen language, painting, chess… it didn’t matter what. If they were interested, he would teach them. If he didn’t know, then he would learn with them.

And, of course, he would help Neria hunt for lizards by the beach and teach Ren how to bind paint to plaster.

He imagined that they would have more brothers and sisters… as many as Aisling was willing to give him. Multiple sets of tiny, pointed ears surrounded by bright red hair. Multiple little voices all calling him “Papae.”

Solas’s nights would be spent much like this one, with Aisling in his arms. He would card his fingers through her long, red hair. Whisper words of endearment against her skin as they made love, slowly, languidly, and without the baggage from before. There would be no secrets, no duties or guilt to come between them, and he would be free to love the woman who became his heart as she deserved to be loved.

Truly, madly, and deeply.

And each morning, he would wake up to soft, freckled skin against his own and to a smile that was brighter than any sun. Some mornings, he imagined, would start later than others, as he would struggle to keep his hands off her… but eventually, they would make their way down to a long table meant to sit their entire family. Breakfasts would be chaotic, but there would be light and laughter and so, so much love…

He wanted it all so badly.

In the real world, Solas buried his face into Aisling’s shoulder as he continued to thrust desperately into her. He tried not to think about how this might be the last time he would ever see her in person. He tried not to think about how he would be gone before she woke up, how she would reach out for him only to find a cold space where he once lay.

“Var lath vir suledin,” Aisling whispered in his ear as if she sensed his growing despair. She probably did.

Var lath vir suledin. It was a promise that she had made before, and it was a promise that she would keep until the bitter end.

Var lath vir suledin. He didn’t know how. But, at least for tonight anyway, he could pretend that it could.

With that, Solas closed his eyes and allowed himself, just this once, to worry neither about the past nor the future and to let himself simply be lost in the sensation of loving this incredible woman and being loved in turn.