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She knew what she was doing when she invited Solas into her bed and into her heart.
Elora Lavellan was no blushing elven maid with freshly applied valasslin daydreaming of a husband. She was well into her mid-thirties now, a seasoned war leader with more knowledge than most women of the ways of the world. She harbored no illusions of blissful domesticity, and desired neither marriage nor children. She lived for the feeling of accomplishment derived from besting a worthy opponent, of mastering something new, and now, as Inquisitor, shaping the future of Thedas for the better.
The Inquisition gave her the means to pursue all of these goals on an unimaginable scale. Doing such important work thrilled and invigorated her. Yet, despite her tireless efforts to lead well and the unquestioned loyalty of her advisors and companions, many mornings she awoke in her quarters at Skyhold scarcely believing just how much of Thedas actually looked to her for leadership. The heavy mantle of being the Herald of Andraste took Elora a long time to wear comfortably and was often lonely.
Solas had captivated her so quickly that it shook her inner composure. The day he grasped her hand and shoved it into that first fade rift, his decisiveness had shocked her, and afterward, she was consumed with the need to know just who he was. Her favorite pastime during the long treks across the Hinterlands was to discreetly observe Solas from afar and attempt to read him. He was a fascinating study of precision and economy, completely devoid of anything extraneous or impractical, from his clean shaven head to his simple, utilitarian clothing. Everything he did had a clear purpose, a natural pacing, and no wasted energy. There was a quiet, disciplined grace to his movements, whether in the midst of fierce combat or artfully lighting a veilfire brazier, and the easy sureness of self in the timbre of his voice inexorably drew her in.
Everything about Solas seemed utterly distilled to its essence.
He carefully chose every word he spoke and each opinion he offered was grounded in knowledge gleaned from either extensive study or firsthand experience. He was confident in his intelligence but never arrogant; politely reserved in his manner, and yet also strangely free in a way she had never before observed in another person. He showed a perceptiveness that could result only from maturity and deep reflection. His face was equal parts gentle and hard; the pleasing juxtaposition of these natures in his character lent him an undeniably regal presence that compelled Elora’s attention.
Solas did not flinch from unpleasant facts; he faced them head on, always analyzing, formulating solutions to problems, often anticipating them long before anyone else and deftly preventing many from even arising. As Solas silently averted these potential pitfalls, he never sought to draw attention to himself, but Elora was mesmerized by his quiet competence. She found herself developing a deep admiration for his intellect and trust in his judgment.
She observed that Solas knew himself well and keenly understood not only the physical world around him, but the Fade beyond as well to a degree that was astonishing in its scope. His impressive intellect and natural curiosity had taken him places that no one else had ever been. Listening to Solas describe his adventures in the Fade, relating all he had learned by keeping an open mind and eschewing fear, deeply transfixed Elora, though she tried her best to conceal it. She secretly began to regard him as a kindred spirit, someone who also lived in the moment and understood the heady allure of pushing boldly past limits and exploring the unknown.
When he led their band of weary travelers to Skyhold, the pride and joy on his face was as magnificent to behold as the snowy edifice that would be the Inquisition’s permanent home. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight, and she secretly tucked that private memory into her heart, allowing herself the intimate indulgence of considering his gesture a gift to her.
Even during idle times at Skyhold, Solas kept himself busy, painting colorful and stunningly intricate murals of their travels in his study, transforming it into a comforting haven she loved to visit. She could not stay away and he could not deny her. Yet his knowing eyes, always open and gently assessing, told her the truth he could not speak.
She understood there would be no future for them together. It did not matter.
So when Elora stole that first kiss from Solas amid a fade dream of snowflakes and magic, she knew what she was doing. She knew it would end one day, but she also knew it would be well worth the pain of parting. She didn’t need tomorrow. She only needed to accept the gift Solas offered now with both hands and revel in it while she could, for losing him would…still be far better than never giving him her heart. Life would go on, and she would do what she must, as would he. And it would be enough.