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For the briefest of moments, the sound of her laughter made his heart stop.
His senses returned to him, of course. Solas knew it would not be her. He had merely imagined it as he had before, hundreds if not thousands of times. The tone of a woman’s voice would hit a particular note of familiarity that would vanish as quickly as it had appeared. This was nothing new. Still, he found his eyes scanning the plaza beyond the café where he sat. He supposed the foot traffic was typical for a busy Saturday evening, crowds milling about on their paths to the various entertainments the city had to offer. The streetlights provided more than enough illumination for him to study the passersby. He casually glanced over them as his initial hopeful curiosity faded.
Then, he saw her - and the mere concept of time ceased to be.
He couldn’t move and for a moment forgot how to breathe. He had spotted her before, of course. Just as he had heard her voice, he had seen her face. A flash of white hair, a glimpse of dark skin, but as soon as he blinked the phantom would fade, replaced by a woman whose resemblance could never compare to what she had been.
He blinked.
And still, she remained.
The woman stood along the edge of the plaza, her cellphone pressed to her ear. She was scanning the crowd, clearly looking for someone. She continued to speak and even though he could not hear the words, he could pick out the tone of her voice at this distance. She looked so much like Isii that it made his heart ache. Long white curls fell in gentle waves along her back, draped against the shoulders of her coat. He assumed she wore a dress underneath, her legs bared beneath her jacket’s hem, their slender length elongated by her heels. She turned, light falling across her features and he could see her with perfect clarity – the furrow of her brow, the fullness of her lips, those sharp green eyes narrowing as she focused on her conversation. Her face was unmarked; her dark, beautiful skin unblemished and unmarred, exactly as she had been the last time he kissed her, the last time he held her in his arms…
But that had been ages ago. Hundreds of years had passed since that night. He had walked away - but even in that abandonment, he could never fully separate himself from her. He could still remember the day he learned the Inquisitor had died. A piece of him was lost that day, a hollowness formed that would never be filled. But he endured. He always did. He survived, but he never forgot. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He carried her with him through the passage of time, mourning her as much today as he ever had.
And yet, there she was.
He knew it couldn’t be her. Not truly. It was some coincidence of nature, a repetition of form. Perhaps she was some distant relative. She couldn’t be a descendant. Isii had never had any children. Perhaps one of Isii’s cousins was responsible for the line that bore this woman before him. It could explain the resemblance. Her appearance was merely a genetic happenstance, or so he told himself. It was not Isii. It couldn’t be.
He watched as her face brightened into a smile. She waved her arm up over her head, her voice lifting as she dropped the phone from her ear. Soon she was joined by another elven woman, dark-haired and grinning. The pair hugged and Isii – no, not Isii – stole a moment to poke her phone before slipping it into her pocket. Arm-in-arm, the two women strode down the sidewalk, chatting, drawing further away with each step.
Without a second thought, Solas rose from his seat. He pulled out his wallet, retrieving a handful of bills and dropping them absentmindedly onto the table. It was more than enough to cover his meal, far too much to even be considered a generous tip, but he didn’t care. He was still pulling his coat on as he slipped over the short barrier that enclosed the café tables, stepping briskly out onto the sidewalk.
He merged soundlessly into the flow of traffic, hands in his pockets as he traced her steps. He stayed far enough back to avoid drawing attention to himself. Even as he lowered his head, taking an unassuming posture, he could not keep his eyes from her. There was something familiar about the way she moved, even though her gait was noticeably different on account of her shoes. He smiled to himself, remembering how vehemently Isii detested having to wear shemlen heels at Halamshiral. He could still picture how she ripped them off, snarling as she tossed them into the topiaries of the Winter Palace, her bare feet propelling her toward her attacker. She never did recover them. Knowing the Orlesians and their propensity for putting trivial objects on display, he wouldn’t be surprised if they now lingered in some museum somewhere. The blood-stained slippers of the Savior of Thedas. Isii would have hated that, but she would have laughed all the same.
The thought made his smile broaden, even as his eyes stung.
His mind was reeling. As impossible as it was, he couldn’t help but hope that somehow this woman was Isii. Irrational visions overwhelmed his thoughts. If he called her name, would she turn? Would her eyes fall on him with the same wonder and amazement? Would she rush into his arms, desperate to embrace him again after all this time? He tried to push the thoughts aside. Even with as impossible as her appearance should reasonably have been, it was too much to hope that she was his vhenan. His heart died long ago. If there had been any way to bring her back, he would have found it already. He was the closest thing to a god this world had left and yet even he couldn’t bend death to his will. Still, he followed her. He had to. Even if she was just a shadow of what once was, he would not let her walk away. Not yet.
The pair made their way to a nightclub. The dark-haired woman approached the end of the queue that stretched along the front of the building, but Isii’s doppelganger stopped her. Solas lingered a fair distance away, watching as she tugged on her friend’s arm, clearly trying to convince her to follow as she made her way confidently to the door. A rather stone-faced Qunari stood at the entrance, clearly working security. He didn’t seem particularly moved by the elves’ approach, but the woman who looked so much like the Inquisitor was undeterred. She smiled. Her shoulders rolled back as her weight shifted to one hip. She touched his arm. Leaned up to speak with him. There was nothing overt in these gestures, but Solas recognized them all the same. He couldn’t help but grin as he saw the severity of the man’s features lessen. Isii had always been skilled at charming her way into getting what she wanted. Solas knew this far more intimately than most.
Soon the Qunari allowed them to pass, much to the chagrin of those waiting impatiently to get inside. Solas was amused by her success, despite the obstacle it put in his path. He paused, surveying the line of people. He considered for a moment whether he should join the queue before he lowered his head, quietly slipping into a back alley.
It would take far more than that to keep him apart from her.
It was not difficult to find another way into the club. His skill for moving about relatively unnoticed had not diminished and the dim lighting of the establishment aided his efforts. The inside was enveloped by colored lights that gradually shifted in shade, casting a soft glow over the patrons. The music was overwhelmingly loud; a hard, slow pulse that he unconsciously set his steps to as he moved wordlessly past the assemblage of tables and the constant flow of bodies. She was easy enough to find, her white hair catching the light, bathed in a cooling shade of silvery blue as she danced with her companion. There were others among them and from the way they circled around one another, he could tell the two women had merged with a group of their friends. Solas moved to a nearby column, allowing himself to rest there. He could watch her at a safe distance.
She’d shed her coat in his absence and now he could see the dress she hid beneath. It left little to the imagination; short and tight-fitting, hugging the curves of her body. She danced in a manner he had never seen from Isii. Modern styles were far more sensual, overtly sexual in nature, and the way she moved was no exception to that. Her back arched, hips rocking in time to the slow, driving rhythm, her fingers working through tousled hair. He would not deny the voyeuristic quality of his staring, but he remained transfixed. She looked exactly the same as Isii. He made a study of her, seeking some flaw, some error in this reflection of a woman hundreds of years dead, but could find none. Maybe it was her. He tried to keep himself from becoming too attached to the idea and yet it grew within him the longer he watched. She had been miraculous before, had she not? She achieved the impossible when she moved physically through the Fade. The power of the anchor bound itself within her when it could have easily killed her. Perhaps she’d done the unimaginable once more. Perhaps she found a way to return to him. Perhaps.
Her eyes met his and for a moment, the world stopped. His heart lifted in his chest, surging only to plummet as his hopes were dashed. There was no recognition in her gaze. No indication that he was anything more than a stranger she caught staring. Even so, she smiled at him and it was exactly as he remembered. It filled him with a confused and pained longing; a mixture of joy and inescapable loss. The moment was brief. She looked away and he continued his silent vigil, uncertain of what he should do. Should he approach her? Pursue her? And what would that result in? Nothing more than trying to romance a ghost, attempting to convince himself that this girl was someone she was not. That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
Her gaze kept drifting back to him, her smile growing wider each time she confirmed that she still had her audience. He noted a gradual but distinct shift in her behavior. Her hips dipped lower, her hands trailing slowly along her body, meeting his eye as if it was an invitation to touch. She regarded him through thick lashes, grinning as she bit her lip, her brow arching, both seductive and mischievous. He recognized that look. It pained him as much as it thrilled him to see it. How odd, that even the gestures of her flirtation would be the same? She nudged one of her friends, saying something to them before disengaging from her circle of companions. She made her way toward him and his heart stopped beating, his chest clenching tightly. The music was loud, too loud for a proper exchange, so loud that when she reached him her hands slid up against his chest, gripping the lapel of his jacket, tugging him forward gently so she could guide her lips to his ear.
“Enjoying the view?” she asked with a giggle. He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing her laughter as it rippled across his skin. It took him back to another time, another place, hundreds of years vanishing with that single sound. “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me? I promise I don’t bite.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, recalling all the times Isii’s teeth had eagerly pressed to his skin. He angled his lips to her ear. “I made no such assumption.”
“You seem a bit overdressed,” she teased, tugging lightly on his coat. “You don’t exactly need that in here. Or are you not planning on sticking around?”
In all honesty, he hadn’t even considered his attire, so focused on her that his scarf and coat were still firmly in place. “I was not certain how long I would stay,” he answered cautiously. It felt strange shouting over the music and yet it forced her to lean her body into his to hear him. Perhaps it was weak and foolish, but he relished the unintended intimacy. “The music does not make it easy to hold a conversation,” he added.
She grinned, practically purring as she returned to his side, her cheek grazing his. “So watching me dance just stirred a desire for conversation? Nothing more?”
His stomach felt tight as he posed his reply. “What did you have in mind?”
Her smile widened as her fingers worked their way down the front of his jacket. “Ditch the coat and come dance with me.” She saw his hesitation, her brow lifting. “Don’t tell me you’re in a place like this and you don’t know how.”
“It has been a very long time.”
“All the more reason to join me.” She tugged gently on his jacket, looking up at him sweetly, worrying her lip with her teeth. With a nod, he began to undo the buttons of his coat and she beamed. He abandoned it along with his scarf on a nearby table before she led him eagerly by the arm. He followed, helpless to resist, anxious as she pulled him closer. The floor was crowded, forcing them together and she wove her arms around his neck, smiling as she rocked her hips from side to side. His hands went cautiously to her waist. The dance was unfamiliar and yet simple enough. He swayed, moving with her, matching his hips to the rhythm her own set. She eyed him appraisingly, her brows lifting. “See?” she cooed in his ear. “Not so bad, is it?”
It was tortuous as much as it was glorious. To feel her so close to him, to be able to touch her again was more than he had ever dreamed possible. She looked up into his face, her eyes narrowing as she peered at him. “Do you come here often?”
“I only arrived in town yesterday,” he answered, shaking his head.
“Passing through?”
“That was the plan.”
Her brow furrowed. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
A small hope stirred in his chest. “Perhaps you have,” he said, trying to keep his expression calm even as his eyes stung. “I would never forget a face such as yours.”
She seemed satisfied with his reply, her smile broadening as she drew her body closer. He could feel the brush of her chest against his own, her fingers trailing idly against the back of his neck. She let her eyes close, a smile on her lips as her head fell back, surrendering to the pulse of the music. It was all-encompassing; a heavy beat that slipped under his skin, traveled down his spine until he felt as though his heart matched its pace. She guided his hands down onto her hips as they slowly rolled, twisted, rocking against his own and soon he couldn’t tell if he was guiding her or merely following each exquisite movement. The air between them felt thick, charged, electric and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, off of the curve of her lips, the soft skin of her throat. He lost himself inside the surreal nature of this moment, like a dream made flesh, tightening his grip as if he would wake any moment now and lose her again. When she turned, he held her close, pulling her back against him and she cupped her hands over his. She slid against his body, her back arching as she dipped her hips lower, grinding slowly. Isii would have loved this. She would have relished the opportunity to tease him, to feel him against her and have no one around them even bat an eye at the intimacy of their touch. Her head fell back onto his shoulder and he could hear her panting softly. It was from the dancing, surely only from the dancing, but he couldn’t help but imagine more, picturing those sounds in the context he was most familiar with. Desire burned through him. He missed her. He missed her so much and now he had her writhing against him.
He wrapped his arms around her and she gripped them, holding him to her. He wanted more, wanted to kiss her, to caress her but he was nothing more than a stranger to her. Even so, he found himself whispering quietly in her ear. “Nuvenan elas sila em.” He was compelled to give the thought breath, the words slipping past his lips. I wish you could remember me.
She angled her head back to look at him, smiling, puzzled. “You speak Elvish?” She brought her arm up, teasing her fingers against his jaw and it took everything within him to keep from turning to press a kiss into her palm. “Care to tell me what that means or do you want to just keep whispering to me?” she teased.
Of course she wouldn’t understand him. She was barefaced, a city elf. Not even the Dalish spoke the language of their people anymore, despite the efforts of their ancestors. Those few who attempted it spoke something akin to a pidgin language, warped by generations of mishearings and mistranslations. True Elvish was a relic of a time long forgotten, remembered only with enough understanding to recognize the sound and little more.
He closed his eyes, tightening his grip as he murmured again. “Sulev ir’tel’unsilaiman na.” It means I never forgot you. He ran reverent fingers over strands of her hair, tracing curls as he pushed them back from her neck. She smiled and continued to rock against him, angling into his touch. “Untelan ama na.” I could not keep you.
His voice caught in his throat as he brought his lips closer to her ear. “Unvaran na, unha’lam’shiran na, i ra de ga sul banal.” I left you, I abandoned you, and it was all for nothing. “Undinas i ir’tel’unlanastan ara’len.” You died and I never forgave myself.
He heard her hum happily. She probably thought these were sweet nothings, words of seduction or flirtation, but they felt thick on his tongue, his eyes stinging. He lowered his face to the crook of her neck, taking in her scent. Even through layers of unfamiliar perfumes, her skin still smelled the same. He placed a tentative kiss on her throat, hearing a soft whimper over the din. The sound was enough to drive him further, tasting her skin once more, lightly scraping his teeth where the slope of her shoulder began. He felt her shudder, her hips pressing back against his own as he threw her from her rhythm. She laughed, grinning as she turned her head to peer back at him. “You’re not wasting any time, are you-”
Except the words were cut off, stopped short and consumed as he guided her jaw with his hand and pressed his mouth to hers. He could feel the vibration of her surprise against his lips as he kissed her, unable to stop, unable to resist any further. He had her. He had her once more and he could not waste another second of it. So what if she couldn’t remember him? He could pretend. He could allow himself to pretend for this single moment that he’d been given a second chance, that they could begin again, that this was the one mistake he could finally set right. He turned her in his arms, pulled her against him, tightened his grip as if she would slip away if there was even the slightest hesitation. Each deepening wave was an apology, each flick of his tongue a desperate plea. I never should have left you. I never should have let you go. Forgive me, vhenan. The startled stiffness of her body soon melted, falling away from her as she surrendered to his hold, as she returned his kiss, her fingers curling around his vest. The music continued and yet the dance stopped, the writhing circle of bodies millions of miles away as he tasted her once more. He worked his fingers into her hair, holding her close even as he broke for breath, his brow pressed to hers as he heard her softly panting. When she angled her head to look at him he let her, his hand slipping to the back of her neck. She stared at him, eyes wide, and yet there was something else there. Something he didn’t have a word for.
Her lips moved in a mimicry of speech but formed no words. She studied him, her brow furrowing before releasing her grip on his vest. His stomach sank as he felt her pull away from him and for a moment he feared he’d frightened her. She curled her fingers around his arm, stepping back before wordlessly leading him away from the dance floor.
He followed without a second thought.
***
What in the Void am I doing?
This wasn’t like her at all. When Isii pulled him away from the pounding music, she’d had every intention of simply finding a quiet corner to talk. It was an innocent enough gesture, she thought. A man who was going to kiss her like that – she should at least know his name.
Yet here she was, pressed against the wall of a dimly lit hallway, his body molten against her own. She couldn’t even say who instigated. He pushed, she pulled; it didn’t matter. She needed to feel him in the same way she needed oxygen, her arms wrapped around him, nails dragging against the back of his vest. He kissed her with a fervor she’d never felt before. His hands slid down the length of her, fingertips brushing against the back of her thighs, palming the curve of her ass, squeezing with enough force that she half-expected him to ruck her skirt up around her hips.
The insane thing was, she’d let him.
The realization made her shudder. Maker, I don’t even know his name.
She wasn’t an idiot. She knew that a man who’d go from staring at her from across the room to groping her in a hallway had certain expectations as to where this night was going to go. As liberal as she was with who she’d take to bed, she didn’t ever move this quickly. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know anything about him. But she wanted him. She wanted him the second she first laid eyes on him. It wasn’t just lust it was… something else. Something she didn’t know how to describe. It was a hunch, or perhaps an instinct; the same feeling that drove her now, that told her he wasn’t just some creep looking for a quick fuck. When their eyes first met, her stomach jumped, her heart racing. She wanted to rush over to him, to throw her arms around him, though she had no idea why. She’d heard that some people had a certain kind of magnetism to them, but she’d never experienced anything like this.
She didn’t believe in love at first sight. That idea was something that only existed in cheesy rom-coms and sappy novels, not in the real world. She had no other way of describing whatever this was, though. It wasn’t just the sharp line of his jaw or the intensity of his eyes. It wasn’t just the way his voice seemed to slip down her spine. It wasn’t just a physical attraction. It was something more than that.
She pulled back, her breaths quick as he nudged her jaw aside, his teeth nipping at her ear. She angled her head, offering him access as his tongue traced its length, feathering a light kiss just behind it in a spot that made her gasp, shivering. He let out a warm, satisfied hum as she writhed, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of her back and suddenly she could feel soft, tingling whispers of magic slipping into her. Sweet Andraste, he’s a mage. She bit her lip, whimpering as she arched into his body, a slow tingling warmth spreading through her.
What was he thinking? This was so incredibly reckless. He’d reveal he was an apostate to someone he’d only just met? How did he know she wouldn’t report him? She wouldn’t, of course. She was in the same position herself, but he didn’t have any way of knowing that. His lips lowered to her shoulder, tracing her collarbone and she raked her fingers along the back of his head, her eyes closed, stifling a soft moan as the name slipped past her lips.
“Solas.”
He froze and suddenly she felt mortified. Why did she say that? She didn’t even know anyone named Solas. He pulled back, staring at her, his eyes wide, brow furrowed. Great. Now he’s going to think I’m only doing this because I’m thinking of someone else. She gave him an apologetic smile, laughing nervously. “I… Sorry,” she stammered. “I don’t know why I said that. This isn’t… I promise I’m not drunk or rebounding or anything like that.”
His expression didn’t lift and she felt her stomach flip, her cheeks hot with embarrassment as he cupped them, studying her face, his eyes growing strangely glassy. “You remember me,” he whispered, awestruck. She frowned, parting her lips to reply but he kissed her again, his mouth crashing into her own with a ferocity that stole her breath away. The kiss was brief as he pulled back, looking at her with an expression she could not even begin to describe, his eyes darting across her features, his lips pulled into a strange half-smile even as his brow creased. “How much of you is in there? How do I bring you to the surface? How do I make you remember?” The questions fell quickly, half-murmured as if he was posing them to himself, not expecting an answer for a puzzle he was trying to solve. He pushed strands of hair back from her brow, his eyes wet as she stared up at him, completely at a loss for words.
“I… I don’t know what you mean.”
His smile only grew as he kissed her brow, her cheek, wrapping his arms around her, nearly picking her up with the force of his embrace. “I never thought I would see you again.” There was something so pained, so genuine in his voice. This should have been frightening. She knew she should be unsettled by this stranger pulling her into his arms, sounding like he was seconds away from an emotional breakdown, yet she wasn’t. She hurt for him, felt her eyes watering as she stroked his back, trying to soothe him. This made absolutely no sense. The feeling that she knew him from somewhere continued to grow, her sense of déjà vu nearly overwhelming her. His cheeks were wet when he kissed her again and it all felt so familiar. “I missed you so much,” he whispered against her lips, his hand cradling her head, fingers woven into strands of her hair. “I never stopped thinking about you. I never… There hasn’t been anyone else. There could never be anyone else.” He spoke only a few words at a time, his lips unwilling to spare a moment apart from her own, peppering her with kisses. “Ar lath ma, vhenan. Ma uthlath. Ma Isii.”
She froze, pulling back, staring at him. “How do you know my name?”
He chuckled as if relieved, the joy on his face overwhelming as his brows lifted. “The same way you know mine.”
She couldn’t help but feel that there was something there, something she was missing, some lingering and vague remembrance that she couldn’t fully recall. Something about mountains and snow, the ancient scar in the sky opened wide, fresh and new. Whispers of longing and heartbreak, of a secret learned too late, of wolves and legends and regret. It was like trying to recall the details of a dream, something that felt so real at the time and yet she knew couldn’t be. Tears fell onto her cheeks, but she didn’t know why. He wiped them away, his expression so soft, so loving and it felt as though she’d been here before. She’d been in his arms, she’d looked up into his face. She’d been different then, but he was the same.
She shook her head, unable to make sense of it. “Where do I know you from?” she asked desperately.
He smiled, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “From another world, vhenan,” he whispered, his voice catching, another tear slowly falling. “And now, we have this one.”
When he pressed his lips to hers once more, she could remember other embraces, other kisses. A balcony where the air was crisp, the sun’s rays pooling behind a nearby mountain range as he confessed his love for her. Another, this time at night, pushing a silver mask from his face, letting it fall from her fingers as she drew him closer. She could remember the look in his eyes as she glanced back to him, standing alone on a set of crumbling stone steps. She could remember learning the truth about who and what he was, how everything and nothing made sense anymore, how she never had the chance to tell him she still loved him. She could remember years of longing for him, wondering if he would ever return to her, wondering if she would ever see him again.
She pulled her lips from his, stroking his cheek. “Solas,” she repeated and he smiled, cupping her hand with his own, nodding. “Ma fen.” He let out a breath, something like a sigh and a sob and laugh all in one as he nodded again. She couldn’t stop her tears from falling, overwhelmed by joy and grief and revelation, barely able to comprehend it all let alone separate one feeling from the other.
She sniffled, wiping at her cheeks once more, taking a shaky breath. “Well imagine meeting you here,” she said with a laugh and he joined her, chuckling. “I can’t say I understand half of what this is-”
“You’re not alone in that.”
She swiped her fingers under her eyes, certain that her makeup was a lost cause. “Didn’t expect my Saturday night to involve making out and crying in a hallway. You could have at least bought me a drink first.”
“Do you want me to?”
She shook her head. “I’ll take a raincheck.” She nuzzled his cheek and he sighed, holding her close. “Let’s get out of here.”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere.” She lowered her hand into his, squeezing it tightly. “As long as you let me go with you this time, I don’t care.”
He smiled sadly, kissing her forehead. “I will never leave you again, vhenan.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
There were so many other things to say, so much that she still didn’t understand, but those were conversations they would save for the days to come. Tonight, all she wanted was him. She wanted to relearn the feel of his skin against her own, the rhythm of his breaths, the murmur of ancient words long forgotten that embodied everything she felt for him now. His lips and fingers traced old scars that her body no longer had, whispering her own history to her. He praised the miracle of her existence with his touch and when they finally stilled, entangled with each other, gasping for breath, she felt whole. Content. Completed. A part of her she never knew was missing had returned.
And she would never let go of it again.