Work Text:
Amarië's bootless feet dangled over the edge of the dock in the frigid air of Haven. The breach dominated the western horizon, illuminating the night brighter than a full moon, offering her little cover and reflecting sickly green off of the frozen expanse of the lake before her. Fortunately, she had slipped silently over the walls not to hide or escape, but to allow herself a moment of peace away from the overwhelming shemlen buildings and people and influence. The late hour and cold air were her cover, allowing her to go unnoticed as she made her way from the little house they had given her, over the wall and down to the broken dock, the snow crunching beneath her toes. The guards on the hastily-built walls and watchtowers huddled around braziers, taking no notice of the elf. She had traded the heavy armor she had worn almost constantly for soft leathers and warm wool, feeling more Dalish and, simultaneously, more alone than she had in the weeks since she left her clan.
Her face was upturned, focusing on the moon shining dimly through the thin clouds rather than the unsettling tear in the sky, but her thoughts were far north, with her clan in the Free Marches. Homesickness left her hollow. 'I could leave,' she thought. 'I could go home, back to the warmth of the aravels and the arms of the people I love. Away from these people who neither love nor respect me, but simply need me. Need this...' Her fingers traced the mark in her palm. Her chest tightened. That was the problem- they did need her. Until these humans could find some other way of sealing the rifts she was their only hope of stemming the flow of demons from the fade and protecting all of those innocent people who had been unfortunate enough to be caught in the backlash. Her heart ached for her home.
Her fingers still absently traced the mark when she heard the soft crunching of snow behind her. She didn't turn around, it was clear who it was. No booted shemlen or dwarf could approach her with such a soft tread. As the elf approached the end of the dock she patted the frozen wood next to her.
"It's a bit cold but you're welcome to sit with me, Solas."
She looked up into his face as he moved next to her. He smiled as he met her gaze.
"Thank you. I believe I will."
They sat in a comfortable silence, eyes moving over the stunning, ice-encrusted cliffs on the far side of the lake and, inevitably, occasionally glancing over the breach. He took notice of her restless hands. "Does the mark still bother you?"
She shook her head. "No, not since we closed that rift in the temple. It feels odd, but it's no longer raw and exposed as it was before."
"We will be heading to the Hinterlands tomorrow. There has been word of other rifts."
She studied her palm. "Yes. I should be able to close those as well. I believe I have more control over it now. The breach is stable, thus the mark is stable. Or," she looked up at him, "perhaps it's the other way around?"
He nodded at her insight. "Perhaps. It is difficult to say whether one controls the other or if they are reacting to each other in equal parts. At the very least, the mark is no longer consuming you."
She made a noise of agreement and settled back into silence.
She glanced sidelong at him as he leaned back, his face turned up into the night air. Even in the unnatural light he looked comfortable, more relaxed than she had seen since she met him. The ease in which he shared her quiet company calmed her. He had seemed so unapproachable before, speaking harshly of her people and separating himself from the easy banter she shared with Varric. Even Cassandra had grown warmer after they had returned to Haven, yet this mage had kept himself polite and apart. She was unsure whether it was the absence of others or merely the progression of time which eased his formality, but she was glad for it. He clearly was uneager to claim a bond through common heritage with her, but he was still an elf, and a welcome island in a sea of chantry faces.
She cleared her throat. “I don’t believe I thanked you properly. Varric said you kept me alive after I stumbled from the breach. I realize it was important to keep me alive so that it could close the rifts, but…” She shrugged. “Thank you.”
He studied her a moment before smiling. “I certainly understood that there was a connection between your mark and the breach, yet it took some time to learn enough about it to theorize that it may possibly harbor some kind of control over the rifts. At the time it was more apparent that, if left unchecked, it would have killed you.”
“Oh,” she said quietly. Shame crept into her chest. She had not considered that she had been helped simply for the sake that she was a wounded person in need of aid rather than a means to an end. Maybe it wasn’t Solas who had been aloof after all.
“As I said,” he turned his face back to the sky. “It would have killed you.”
She suddenly laughed, startling him. “Ir abelas, Solas. I’ve been rather suspicious of everybody, it seems. You helped me and I rewarded you with coldness.” She turned to him, pulling her legs onto the dock and extending her hand to him. “’Ma serannas, falon.”
A smile warmed his lips and eyes as he took her hand, giving it a firm squeeze before releasing. “Sathem, da’len.”
The wall had been broken. So, it seemed, had her melancholy.
“I have to ask. What are you doing out here so late?”
His eyebrow arched. “I could ask the same of you, I believe.”
She grinned. “You could. The past few days have been rather overwhelming. I needed to clear my head.”
“Hmm. I can imagine, Herald of Andraste.”
She groaned, slumping onto the pillar of wood at her back.
“Ah. Does the fervor of the faithful not empower you?”
“Sweet Sylaise, it’s unnerving. I’m not eager to be a martyr for the Andrastians,” she muttered.
“It is fortunate that the matter of the breach transcends the ulterior motives of the faithful, for now. You are not wrong to be wary.” He turned, locking her eyes with a suddenly serious stare. “You must not underestimate your ability to sway them, however. You are not simply their tool, to be used and discarded, but you will be if you let them.”
She held his gaze, the laughter gone from her lips. “I’m here because I can help, because I’m the only one who can help. I’m not their figurehead. This Inquisition has nothing to do with me.”
She hated the pity in his eyes. She didn’t need him to tell her that, unfortunately, it had quite a lot to do with her now. But she could help, and she would make them see that she was there for the people, not for their Maker. She scowled at the ice beneath them. “Fenedhis, Solas, I just want to go home.”
“Do you have family?” His voice was gentler.
She nodded. “A brother. Fin. And the others…” She broke off, giving him a hard look. “You’ve made your sentiments of the Dalish clear, but you know how close a clan is. They are all my family. They are all important to me.”
“But you won’t leave.” It was not a question.
“No. I have a duty here.”
“Of course.”
They fell silent.
It was curious. It had not been long since they had been thrown together, and they had spoken only minimally in that time, yet it seemed he already understood a part of her- the part that was bound by a sense of duty. His words echoed in her mind. She had to help close the rifts and, presumably, the breach. Did she have a responsibility beyond that, though? Could this Inquisition be more than just another Andrastian construct? She would have to wait and see. The Inquisition seemed to have been founded on faith, yet the Chantry denied them. Their primary goal, and certainly hers, was to restore order.
She sighed. “I’ll consider what you said, about my role in this.”
He nodded. “Perhaps you should get some rest. We have a long way to travel tomorrow and there will be fighting in the Hinterlands. We will all need our strength.”
She scoffed. “I don’t know how, if I have to sleep in that empty shack they gave me.”
He laughed, climbing to his feet. “It is no aravel, certainly.”
“No, it isn't. You should join me, it would be much more comfortable.”
He paused, leaning back and arching his brow as she rose to her feet. “Are you inviting me to your bed? Quite the scandal, herald,” he teased.
She laughed, embarrassed, shying away from him and starting down the dock. “Creators, not like that! You know what I meant! Even when traveling away from the clan my companions and I would share a bed in the inns. We’re simply not used to being alone.”
A smirk played over his face as they made their way back to the gates, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked. “I, myself, am accustomed to sleeping in ruins. Or, at the very least, under the stars.”
“So you’ve mentioned. I imagine we’ll be doing quite a bit of traveling in the near future, at least it will be familiar for you.” They paused as they approached the heavy gates, the soldiers on watch waving them through, recognizing their Herald and clearly confused as to where the two elves had materialized from. “I’d be interested to hear some of your stories. You seem to have led an interesting life.”
He smiled at her. “I gather that you have as well. We will have plenty of time to trade stories on the road.”
They reached the path separating their respective sleeping quarters and stopped. Solas murmured his farewell and turned, but was stopped by Amarië’s hand on his arm. “Wait. You never did tell me why you were out tonight.”
“I was awake, I saw you slip over the wall. I assumed you may appreciate some friendly company.”
She crossed her arms, studying his unassuming pose. “Did you also assume that I was considering leaving?”
He tilted his head in concession. “I considered it.”
“Would you have stopped me?”
He met her eyes with an earnestness that she did not expect. "Amarië. A great deal has been placed on your shoulders in a very short period of time. If anything, I wished to make you aware that you were not alone in all of this. If that in itself succeeded in convincing you to stay…” He shook his head. “Yet I would never have presumed to stop you from leaving, had you been set on it. That said, I am pleased that you have decided to stay."
Her fingers slipped from his sleeve, the tips of her ears darkening ever so slightly.
“On nydha, da’len.”
“On nydha, Solas.”