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When he leaves her for good, it’s as if all the colours have drained out of the world.
Crestwood had never been that colourful, especially in the dark, but Skyhold was her sanctuary, her home. It was full of dancing shadows, of plans and plots and intrigue. The very air was alive with possibility each time she walked through the hall. And now? Now, as she held her head high and told herself not to give into the burgeoning tears, Skyhold’s halls were dull, lifeless. She wished everyone would go away. That they would leave her in peace. A few Nobles tried to catch her eye as she passed, no doubt in an attempt to begin petitioning her for help, but she ignored them. There was only one place she wanted to be, but the door to Solas’ rotunda was closed.
That was good. Aris didn’t want to see him. Well, she did, but she knew it would be a bad idea.
As soon as she closed the door to her quarters behind her, she let the tears come. Her breath hitched as she clambered up the stairs to her room, tears blinding her, sending the staircase into a watery haze. What had made Solas change his mind? What had turned him against her? He said he was proud of her, that he’d realised there were people to admire outside of the Fade. And then she’d let him take the Vallaslin, her Elven markings, her connection to her Clan. He had handed her his freedom from the slave markings, from a connection to a past she thought she knew about. Hadn’t he proved her wrong with his knowledge about Elven history? And had she not responded with an understanding if heavy heart and let him make her whole again?
The way he’d looked at her after had been worth the trepidation, the anxiety that made her hands tremble had eased when he’d held her close and kissed her. He called her beautiful, as if looking at her for the very first time. He looked at her with admiration, told her she’d changed everything in his life, and then just as suddenly drew away.
She ran the moment in her head over and over, looking for a clue to anything she might have said or done to make him step back. He didn’t even let her step closer. He’d held his hands out as if she might be dangerous. That made her sob again: short, sharp. Almost like laughing.
She crawled into bed, pulled the covers across her shoulders and sank into a restless sleep.
***
When she stepped back into the hall three days later, the audible gasps and gawping from the members and admirers of the Inquisition were nothing compared to Solas’ face. He stood in the entrance to his rotunda, a book half open in his hand as if suddenly distracted from it. Good. She was glad of that, though she didn’t let it show on her face. Her face that still ached. She was glad of that too, of the reminder of the choices she could still make.
Keeper Deshanna had been surprised to see her when she made her way into Wycome in disguise. The disgust for her unmarked face quickly subsided when Aris had collapsed at her feet in grief, begging for her help. The Keeper had been kind. She didn’t know if others would be.
Solas stepped forward and dropped the book. Stopped her in her tracks. He shook his head, eyes swimming, searching her face for an answer.
“Can I do something for you, Solas?” She asked in the business like manner Josephine had her taught her.
“Your face.”
“Yes?”
“The Vallaslin—you had it redone. Why did you have it put back?” He grew angry, not letting her get a word in edgeways. “Who did that to you?”
Nobles and members of the Inquisition drew to hushed whispers to listen in.
“I asked for my Vallaslin back. My Keeper deigned to provide me with them.”
“The markings of a slave—”
“My people’s tattoos honor our past. Our traditions, our beliefs. I wear them with pride.”
“Inquisitior, I have explained to you what the Vallaslin truly is.”
“You don’t actually know what they are. How could you? You weren’t there. Just because you don’t have a people, a family, a clan, doesn’t mean that I cannot.”
Solas inclined his head thoughtfully for a moment, then seemed to regain his steely composure. Aris waited for a moment to see if he had any sort of reply, then brushed past him. The din of the hall’s residents grew back to a quiet roar. Aris let the noise wash over her as she focused on the door to her quarters, telling herself that the gaping space inside of her had nothing to do with Solas’ disappointed face. Had nothing to do with his quiet regret or the sadness in his eyes.
What was it he had said to her the day after he broke it off? Harden her heart to the pain? She wondered if Solas could handle what she would dish out in the coming days.