Night had settled into a serene silence. The rain had stopped more than an hour ago, and the group had finished dinner shortly after. They were still soaked, that much was true, but now they had the perfect excuse to retreat into their tents, change clothes, and rest after a long day of exploration—one marked by cold, mud, ambushes… and even the attack of a giant.
Solas, however, needed distance. Not from the group, but from the world of Thedas.
Suddenly, Thedas had begun to pulse with a name of its own inside his mind. It was still a broken world, a flawed one, a living consequence of decisions that perhaps should never have been made… but now he was beginning to perceive its beauty despite the cracks. There was much in this world he did not know, and yet it drew him with an uncomfortable force.
More than a year had passed since his awakening, and the silence he had once sworn would drive him mad had transformed into a different invitation—not to listen to the arcane song, but to everything else. The murmur of waves crashing against the shore, thunder tearing the sky apart, rain striking the earth, the scattered song of birds, the wind dancing among rocks, or fire devouring dry wood. There were no spirits accompanying every living motion, but that did not mean he was incapable of recognizing the echoes of their purposes—even in this world, so difficult to reshape.
He was discovering simple things.
And, to his displeasure, beautiful ones.
Had that been what happened to Felassan? Had that discovery led him to lower his guard, to turn his back on the restoration of Elvhenan? Nolan, on the other hand, had been in Thedas far longer than he had, and yet still pushed forward with determination. Why had one given up while the other had not?
What truly set them apart?
The final stretch of the path led Solas to the top of a small hill. He had noticed it from camp during dinner and had decided then that he would climb up once the meal ended, to sit on the large fallen rock and contemplate the sky, which was slowly beginning to clear.
He approached the rock and rested his hand on it. He did not know why, but his attention centered on his fingers—long, unmarked by wounds or scars. The hands of a healing mage, someone in Thedas might conclude, but he knew his body bore no scars because he was an Evanuri… only a single mark marred his skin, and it was a consequence of her power.
As he observed himself, he knew that tonight he did not feel sad—nor at peace. It was something else that invaded him… a silent but persistent unease. Uncomfortable. Something inside him was beginning to shift, to rearrange itself without his consent… and that terrified him. Because he was still unable to discern what shape it would take. This was a world that remained the same as before, governed by the same laws, threatened by the same dangers. War had not stopped, corruption had not waned, and the future remained as uncertain as ever.
Nothing had changed.
Except him.
A shiver ran through him at the thought. He was beginning to change…
"The Vir'abelasan has begun to whisper."
- I always wrote the story you asked of me… - he murmured, thinking of her for the first time without evasion.
Giving voice to Mythal's memory weighed heavier than he had expected. Solas placed his other hand on the damp rock to steady himself.
- When I woke, I thought I wouldn't be able to write anything without you… - he continued softly. - And here I am. Living… again. But this time, without your words.
He let his head fall and closed his eyes. His hands bore the weight of his body, steady. There was no migraine, no physical pain. Only the weight of her absence… and of his own existence. Because only he remained alive…
Why?
- Solas.
Elentari's voice flooded the night.
He swallowed and kept his eyes closed a moment longer, gathering the strength needed to leave Solas behind and become the wandering apostate once more. He let a thread of magic flow and cleanse his emotions.
He inhaled deeply, opened his eyes, and stepped away from the rock. Slowly, he turned toward the Herald of Andraste. Once again, he was the wandering apostate.
She approached still soaked, dark hair clinging to her silhouette, golden eyes reflecting the distant shimmer of the stars. At times, her physical form reminded him of Mythal…
Solas crossed his arms and leaned back against the rock. The dampness immediately seeped through the fabric and chilled his skin, but he did not care. He considered saying something eloquent, marking his presence with a measured phrase, but he didn't feel like it. He preferred silence. If she had come all the way up there, he was certain she had a reason.
Elentari settled beside him and leaned back as well. She crossed one leg over the other and rested her elbows on the rough surface to support herself. The sky lay behind them; before them stretched the forest, a dark and silent mass covered by the thick shadow of night.
A gust of wind danced around them. Its force-filled whistle flooded Solas's senses, and then he understood—it was the very essence of the forest reproaching him for having reduced it to a "dark and silent mass." Because it was not. It was a living immensity, pulsing, capable of housing countless ecosystems and birthing them again and again, sustaining vitality with balanced wisdom.
- Are you alright? - he felt Elentari's hand as it rested on his shoulder.
- Yes. - He did not look at her and kept his arms crossed. - Is this because of the argument with Iron Bull?
She said nothing.
- I know I showed too much emotion in my stance. - he admitted. - But it wasn't because I was agitated—it's because there are things I do not tolerate. Blind obedience is one of them.
He felt Elentari withdraw her hand and lean back against the rock again.
- Who forced you to obey with your eyes covered?
Solas did not answer. He did not want to lie to her.
- It doesn't matter... - she conceded, softening her tone, as if choosing to loosen the rope. - You know… I realized I don't know the name of your village.
He looked at her, somewhat surprised by the turn of the conversation. He did not want to go there. He did not want to speak of his past.
- Look, Elentari. My past does not define me... - he said calmly. - Leave it there. It's not a subject I wish to address right now. - He sighed and tilted his head slightly upward. - And my village is unimportant. It always was. A small, inconsequential place, destined to be forgotten… and to disappear from the history books.
- Well… - she replied with a gentle irony in her voice. - That's quite the mood for someone who claims to be fine tonight.
Then she added, thoughtfully:
- You know? My clan does define me, in a way… though I still don't know how much.
- Perhaps less than you imagine.
- Perhaps… - she conceded.
- Hey… you're hurt.
- I'm not. - Elentari looked at him.
- You have blood on your leg... - he clarified. - Do you want me to heal you?
She raised her brows and followed his gaze. The leg she had crossed over the other concealed a trace of blood on the inner thigh. The soaked clothing had spread it further, forming a small, irregular stain on the fabric. It didn't seem serious. But it was there.
Suddenly, Elentari brought both hands to her mouth and stifled a small cry. Solas turned toward her and found her so red that it startled him. She had gone rigid, frozen, as if her mind had stalled before a situation she didn't know how to process. She had even stopped breathing. He raised his brows. Looked at the bloodstain, then back at her. Elentari remained still, though at least she had resumed breathing.
She didn't seem to be in pain. The blood was on the inner thigh… and she had gone mute and crimson with embarrassment.
Ah…
Understanding came with uncomfortable ease. It surely had to do with women's reproductive cycles.
In Elvhenan, among the Evanuris, fertility had always been a choice—a conscious arcane-emotional response. The body only manifested such signs when an Evanuri wished to become a mother, and even then, conception only occurred if the desire was shared. It was not enough for one to want it; both Evanuris had to align in that will.
Among common elvhen, however, bleeding occurred six times a year, in regular and predictable cycles.
Solas had fought for centuries alongside men and women. He had shared these events many times with his fellow warriors, but he had no idea how the female reproductive cycle worked in Thedas.
Here, apparently, the body decided on its own.
Suddenly, Elentari began waving both hands in front of her face, as if she lacked air. Solas snapped out of his thoughts and watched her closely. This time, the blush had spread across her entire body. He couldn't help it—he laughed, genuinely.
He stood up swiftly, stepped forward, and took her by the shoulders, gently moving her to force her to look at him. She kept waving her hands near her face, and he kept laughing—but it wasn't mockery. It was nervousness. He knew this was nothing shameful, that it was natural, but neither of them could deny how inopportune the moment was… that was why he laughed. Or perhaps because, of all the scenarios he could have imagined involving the Herald of Andraste, this one had never existed.
Fen'Harel assisting the Herald in matters so intimate… oh, the ironies of life…
- Elentari, look at me. - he said between laughs.
She didn't respond. She was breathing too fast; her eyes had filled with tears—more from embarrassment than anything else, he assumed.
- Hey, hey… - he added, lowering his tone a little, rubbing her shoulders gently. She didn't even seem to notice. - Maybe laughing isn't helping… - He leaned slightly toward her. - Look at me. Follow my breathing.
He began to breathe deeply in front of her, deliberately setting the rhythm. But without Elentari noticing, it was he who matched his breathing to hers, guiding her cycle by cycle until both managed to steady themselves. He still held her by the shoulders; it made it easier to guide her.
Anxiety attacks had been fairly common on the battlefield. A good general had to know how to calm their soldiers. These rapid breaths hardly compared, but the relaxation technique worked all the same…
When she finally emerged from that state of embarrassment? panic?, Elentari covered her face with her hands again. She let out a silent little cry and shook her head several times.
That made him laugh again.
- Don't laugh, idiot…
- At least you're talking now. - he teased gently. She remained hidden behind her hands; he continued holding her.
- It's not funny, Solas…
- No. It's natural... - he teased again, but she didn't respond. Fine—making her feel better was apparently on him. - Listen. I'll go to camp and bring you a change of clothes, alright? - He squeezed her shoulders gently, so she'd feel he was still there, supporting her.
She nodded without a word, still refusing to look at him.
- There's a stream nearby. - he continued, brushing his thumbs against her shoulders once more in reassurance. - I'll show it to you after. You'll go there and wash up, okay?
She nodded again.
- Good. I'll be right back. And stop being embarrassed… it's natural. - He smiled, taking advantage of the fact she couldn't see him.
- I want to die.
- Oh, come on… don't be dramatic now.
He released her shoulders and turned away, but had barely taken a step when he felt her grab his arm and force him to turn back. Elentari was red again, staring at the ground.
- Solas… in my pack, in one of the pockets, there's a leather case. Put some clean linen cloths in there—I have those too.
He nodded.
- And you'll have to bring me clean undergarments. - Now the blush reached the tips of her ears. - And a piece of soap.
He almost laughed, but held it in.
- Yes, of course. - he replied with absolute seriousness, as if the obviousness had occurred to him on its own. It had not.
- I'm really sorry, Solas. Truly. I'm sorry for what I'm mak—
- Forget it. Truly. - He cut her off and smiled, though she wasn't looking. Elen (Elen, again… by all the heavens) had helped him when a sword had pierced him; now it was his turn. - I'll be right back.
It took him some time to gather everything required and evade Scout Harding, who had been watching him during his visit to camp.
At last, he returned to the small hill, and Elentari was waiting in the same position she had been in when neither of them had yet realized what was happening. However, she had regained her composure and held her head high. She sat with legs crossed and arms crossed, but she was no longer hiding.
He approached with a smile. Yes, yes… he had to admit it—the smile held a trace of malicious pleasure at the ridiculousness of the situation.
- Don't be an idiot. - she warned once more as he reached her side.
He let out another laugh.
- Don't mistreat me—I'm carrying your salvation in my hands.
- Stop blackmailing me.
Elentari left the rock and reached for the bundle of clothes, but he stepped back and didn't let her take them. It was a reflex. He did it out of pure mischief, perhaps because of the tone she'd just used with him, or because he could… but his body reacted almost instinctively when he refused to relinquish what was in his hands.
She stared at him, a mix of confusion and fury.
- Hey—what are you doing?
Fen'Harel quickly improvised a lie for himself.
- I recall you owing me a favor… don't I?
- Yes, but that's not how collecting favors works, Solas. You see, I decide when to ask for it. - She tried to snatch the clothes again; he stepped back in response.
This time, he did it consciously. It was never good to owe favors—that should be a law of life… and he was going to settle it right now.
- Uh-huh. And I think this is a good moment to ask for it, don't you? - he teased.
She laughed now, more surprised than angry.
- You're going to take advantage of my vulnerability to force me to ask for the clothes as a favor?
Solas nodded. She narrowed her eyes and studied him for several seconds, evaluating him. He smiled, wickedly.
- Well, you know what? I don't believe it. - She crossed her arms now. Solas raised a brow. - I don't believe you're selfish enough to pressure me in the situation I'm in. Therefore…- Elentari smiled now, haughty and in control. She straightened, placed her hands behind her back as he often did, and stood firm before him. She showed no vulnerability and didn't seem to care whether the blood on her thigh was visible. - If you're not going to take me to the stream and give me the clothes… then I'll endure every bit of embarrassment I have to at camp, in front of the rest of the group. But I'm not cashing in my favor. - She paused. - And Vivienne will hate me even more for being a savage Dalish girl who can't control her lunar cycles.
Solas laughed. That last possibility hit him like a solid blow. He was not about to let the Enchanter benefit from this moment… Besides, Elentari was partly right. He wasn't that cruel… and she learned very quickly how to recover from embarrassing situations. That was always a strength.
They stared at each other—him smiling, her irritated but holding firm.
- Well?
Well? Elentari stood before him, stoic, giving everything she had not to cede power… and he… well, he wasn't that cruel as to strike her when she was already wounded… in her ego. Giving in a little couldn't be that catastrophic…
- You win, of course. - he said, stepping toward her and handing over the spoils. She snatched the clothes from his hands in one swift motion. - I'm not that selfish.
- No, but you are an idiot.
- Stop calling me that. You've done it several times tonight.
- Does it bother you?
- A little.
- Well, you're an idiot. Deal with it. - Elentari insisted while arranging the clothes, the soap, and the leather case with the cloths.
He couldn't help laughing again and, perhaps carried away by the intimacy of the moment—or because despite all his fatalistic thoughts, the truth was that Solas had always lived in community, surrounded by people he loved and who loved him—he slipped an arm around her shoulders and looked at her with a conspiratorial air.
- Come on. I'll take you to the stream.
Elentari looked at him, and all the bravado she'd managed to sustain seemed to dissolve the moment she did. She couldn't help smiling back at him; a faint blush crossed her cheeks, making her lower her gaze. Her long, dark lashes hid her eyes, and his breath caught when he recognized the natural beauty this woman possessed. She seemed delicate and defenseless, yet she was powerful. She recovered from blows, didn't hide, and faced situations head-on. She didn't fear falling… She had the traits of a good leader, and she made those around her discover those virtues and admire her…
That was when he realized he had begun to truly care about her… he remembered his questioning of Josephine and the plans with Leliana… He understood that now, he was not only pursuing objectives for his agenda as Fen'Harel, but also paying attention to what happened around Elentari (apparently "Elen" to the wandering apostate…).
Solas smiled, more to himself, and released the breath he'd been holding. He straightened and drew her closer at his side. He heard her laugh and felt her wrap an arm briefly around his waist before letting go.
They looked at each other again. And he knew she was a leader he would gladly follow.
- Don't worry… - he said lightly, though unable to wipe the smile from his lips as he understood the young halla had earned his admiration. - …it'll be our secret. I owe you for keeping mine.
Elentari made that characteristic gesture with her lips.
- Which one? - She looked at him with a half-smile and a raised brow. - That you sneak off in the middle of missions and only Fen'Harel knows what you go do?
Oh yes… indeed, only the Dread Wolf knew. He smiled back.
- I meant that I'm a somniari... - he teased. - Though, now that you mention it… you have two of my secrets, then.
She laughed, lowered her gaze once more, and murmured:
- Idiot.
Solas laughed and began to set the pace.
- You hug me when I'm stained?
- Well… you and I have fought covered in blood… - he murmured with a teasing air as they continued walking together, eyes forward. - I'd say this time we can ignore it.
- You're strange, Solas…
- Perhaps. A little. - They looked at each other, stopped, and smiled.
- Well look at that… you turned out to be a strange idiot… - Elen teased, smiling, and he burst into laughter.
- I'm not an idiot. Stop calling me that. You wound me…
Elentari laughed again and attacked him verbally, saying she didn't believe that—hurting his feelings—and he replied with something clever that came to mind. She laughed for a moment, then resumed the verbal sparring. And so he guided her, as they continued teasing each other, with the sole intention of pulling her out of embarrassment and returning her to the safe ground of sparring with him.
It couldn't be easy to be a young woman amid all that chaos, far from her people, turned into a symbol, and forced to endure such personal, intimate situations under the constant gaze of men who were part of her group. Solas knew it. And though he didn't say it, the jokes, the light rhythm, were his way of giving her back a bit of control—so she could feel safe again. Because he wasn't only willing to follow her, but also to accompany her… and that included protecting her.
Yes, the young halla had just earned the protection of the Dread Wolf. As long as he could, he would look after her.
Corypheus's fate was sealed. He would ensure the Inquisition and its leader grew stronger. That corrupt being would have no chance…
Because she was right: he was not that selfish…
He never had been.
No matter how hard he tried.