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The damn fool was standing in her poor, wilting garden--wilting because plants have always hated her and the feeling was mutual. If she didn't have to eat, she wouldn't have bothered. She didn't know any tall elves with red hair, and there was little reason a stranger would stomp through the forest to find her.
She didn't recognize the dragon bone staff either. It was vaguely Elvhen---it mirrored the sweeping curves, moldings, and edges of the New Arlathan towers. The head of the staff was some kind of ferocious beast devouring a shining green orb. It was hideous.
"What do you want and why are you in my garden?" she asked. She didn't care to bother with niceties. The only elves as tall as him were the damn ancient ones. She had yet to meet one that wasn't all sharp edges and arrogance and dripping with pure disdain for anyone who wasn't born thousands of years ago.
He turned his head just enough to show the edge of his smile, and that was enough. She knew the bastard. He did not belong in her pathetic garden. He did not belong anywhere near her corner of the world.
She wondered if she could tip him into the compost heap without falling in herself.
"You," she said. His smile faltered when he turned to meet her glare.
"Yes, me," Solas said.
She turned on her heel and left him standing among the dying elfroot blossoms.
When he knocked on the door, after she slammed it in his face, she considered opening it so she could slam it again. But that would be childish and she didn't feel like fixing the door if she slammed it a little too hard. Again.
He was very lucky he'd been wrong about the Veil killing everyone or he would have found himself with her favorite, enchanted dagger buried in his stupid, beautiful chest. Just knowing he had believed she would perish when he destroyed the Veil and chose to do it all anyway was reason enough to never speak to him again. Even after a century, it still made her furious.
More than furious. She was---she was---there wasn't a word for what she was, but it wasn't good.
The nerve of that ass, showing up on her doorstep. The god damned nerve.
He continued to knock on the door. It made her jaw clench and her teeth grind. Just the crisp, persistent sound of it all, somehow even that was arrogant.
When it became too much, she wrenched open the door.
"What?" she asked.
His red hair was pulled back into several intricate braid that hung mostly down his back. One was draped over his shoulder and down his chest. And again, there were his stupid pretty nose with the tiniest smattering of freckles across it and the stupid, pretty lines that crinkled delightfully around his eyes when he smiled.
"It seems I've come at a bad time," he said.
"Any time is a bad time when it's you," she said. She hadn't pegged him for a red head, but looking back, it made sense. She also hadn't pegged him for someone who would be fussy about his hair, nor had she pegged him to be some kind of idiot who didn't know not go traipsing through other people's gardens uninvited.
She really hoped he didn't linger. His prettiness was reminding her she wanted to peel him out of his ridiculous shiny robes and do wonderful terrible things to him. And that was very, very bad because she was still very, very angry. He had tossed her out the metaphorical window when he'd decided to destroy the world. He didn't get a free pass because everybody lived.
And he'd cost her an arm. That added at least another five hundred years to her grudge.
He frowned.
"You are still angry," he said.
"You are still in love with stating the obvious," she said, "What do you want?"
"Cole said you wanted to see me," he said, "He's gotten better at lying, apparently. I brought you a gift." He gestured to a box she hadn't noticed---it was sitting by his feet. As if that made it all better. No.
"I haven't seen Cole in years," she said. Cole kept a busy schedule of meddling. Up until now, she'd thought he was too preoccupied with other people's business to stick his nose back in hers. She thought at the very least he'd grown a bit of common sense.
She was not about to admit she wanted to know what was in the stupid box.
"Yes, well," he said.
She shut the door before he continue. He was just too much temptation and that path was a world full of NO.
He knocked. This time the irritating patter of his knuckles on her door was very loud and very fast.
"Go away," she shouted, "I'm sure there are innocent worlds that need destroying and nice women with perfectly good left arms for you to steal."
The knocking paused for a half second before it picked up again, loud enough it had to be painful. Good, she thought, he deserved a little pain for all he'd done. He could take whatever was in that stupid box and eat it. Through his nose.
"You are being childish," he shouted back, "I'm sorry. If I'd known you didn't want to see me, I wouldn't have come. What was I supposed to think? Cole insisted."
"Pfft."
She considered slipping out the back, but she'd been busy all morning and she didn't feel like vacating her house because he decided to intrude. The next time she talked to Cole he was getting an earful. Lying was shitty. Lying and tricking the destroyer of worlds into visiting the ex girlfriend who was still furious he tried to kill her was extra shitty.
"Please open the door," he said.
"Please jump off a cliff," she countered.
He cursed. Her ancient Elvhen wasn't great but she knew that wasn't a prayer to the gods for a bountiful harvest. She had a bucket of dirty dish water somewhere that needed to dumped out, and his robes were so very nice and clean.
"You're being ridiculous," he said.
"I'm sure you would know."
"If you're going to insult me, the least you can do is look me in the eye when you do it," he said, "this has gone on for long enough. Please, Ellana, open the door and talk to me. Listen to me."
The god damned nerve. It's gone on long enough? HAS IT NOW? She was going to punch him in his stupid nose and then she was going to throw things at him until he ran away. And then, she was going to laugh. He DID NOT get to say when she was done being angry.
She opened the door, fully intending to give him a piece and a half of her mind.
He looked down at her, his expression drawn and miserable. GOOD, she thought, but then she thought, not good. If he'd just stopped near the end and listened to her. If he'd just said, no, Ellana, I don't think I will continue with my plans to kill you and everyone you've ever known and loved. She might have been able to forgive and invite him in to do fun things.
HE DID NOT GET TO LOOK SAD AND THEN MAKE HER FEEL SAD BECAUSE SHE IS WEAK AND HE KNOWS HOW PRETTY HE IS.
"You have thirty seconds," she said, "Make it good."
She expected a cascade of angry words and disapproving sounds. She expected more justifications for how he did what he had to do and he never meant anything terrible to happen. She expected him to chastise her for slamming the door in his face.
Instead, he surged toward her, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her. She couldn't move. She could barely think, she was too shocked. He kissed her the way he had before the end of it all, when she begged him to spare them. He devoured her, his lips firm, insistent. He kissed her until they were both gasping for air and she remembered she wanted to kick him in the knees. Damn him.
Damn him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked, "A frigging kiss doesn't make everything better." It didn't. She wasn't that easy to appease. If it was even possible to be appeased, it would take something more than physical contact. He was lucky she hadn't reached for the nearest heavy object, probably the deep pot she used for stew, to smash him up the side of his stubborn, pretty head.
His eyes had gone wide, and to his credit, he looked just as shocked as she felt.
"It was foolish, I apologize," he said, "I didn't mean---I shouldn't have."
"No, you shouldn't have," she said, and then she cursed herself for sounding so damn breathless. Wistful.
When he stared at her, she felt the rest of her words dry up in her throat. Her palm itched, it actually itched to touch him. And it was wrong. She was wrong. This was not something that was happening. She was angry and he was stupid. They were never going to...not again. No.
Because why? For a moment, she couldn't remember.
She sucked in a breath, hoping to clear her thoughts. She had been the leader of the Inquisition. She had commanded armies. She was not going to be undone by one stupid kiss.
A kiss from the idiot she still loved and had loved for over a hundred stupid years. What was wrong with her? Had the remnants of the anchor rotted the important parts of her brain?
Solas stumbled back, nearly tripping over the box. Thanks to his stupid staff, he caught himself, then, he stooped to pick the box up. He shoved it at her as though it was on fire.
"I would have given this to you sooner," he said, "But you wouldn't see me. It was my fault, I know. You don't have to remind me. I know."
She almost dropped it, because it was heavier than it looked and she only had one hand.
"What is it?" she asked.
Something horrible. she hoped, but probably not. It was going to be something nice, because he was thoughtful when he wasn't destroying the world. No. She wasn't going to open it. She was going to throw it at his head and then chase him into the compost heap. She was not going to pry the end open and look inside and then say thank you.
She was not.
She wasn't.
God damn it.
'Fine, I'll open it," she said,"But when I hate it, you have a three second head start before I chuck it at you."
"Fair enough," he said, and he looked even sadder. Stupid. She did NOT care. No. Just no.
There was an arm in the box.
"What the actual fuck?" she asked. It was probably made of silverite, but it was hard to tell because it was a god damn arm in a box and there was no way to make that not creepy. A perfect, beautiful arm with leather straps made of supple dragon hide.
"It was to replace the one I destroyed," he said, "The crossbow, not the actual arm. I know there's nothing that will replace the real one."
"I know what you meant," she snapped.
It looked a little like the arms of the ridiculous Elvhen armor the sentinels wore, but inscribed with runes and also not ridiculous looking at all. It was beautiful. It even had realistic fingers, probably just for show, but still.
Thoughtful.
She felt the air go out of her lungs, like someone punched her too hard or dunked her under water. The gift should have made her angry. It should have made her positively furious. Why didn't it?
Her stomach felt like she'd swallowed broken glass and pointy rocks.
"It's nowhere near as dexterous as the real thing, but you'll be able to write with it. You'll be able to hold and use a pen or fight if it comes to it," he said, "It's the least I could do." The last bit was barely above a whisper.
No. She was not going to be swayed. She was not. She was not. She was...not.
When she touched the metal, her stomach did another flip. It wasn't silverite. She was wrong. It was dragon bone under a silverite finish. Dragon bone was sturdier, more practical, but she'd always thought silverite was prettier. He wasn't supposed to remember things like that.
"Thank you," she said, in a voice that didn't sound or feel like hers.
She shut her eyes, not trusting herself to look at him. Or speak. Or breathe. Or think.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I'll have words with Cole. This won't happen again. If you ever want---if you change your mind, you know where to find me." As if she'd drag herself into his stupid, perfect city to walk among ancient assholes who stared at her like she was some kind of sub-elvhen thing, little better than a beast. HA.
"Damn it, Solas," she said.
When she opened her eyes, he had turned to leave. He stopped when he heard her say his name. What the hell was she doing? This was a mistake. Why was she stepping to the side and gesturing for him to follow? WHY?
"Ellana?" he asked, pausing, unsure.
"We can talk and you can help me try this thing on. If you want anything to drink, all I have is tea," she said, "If you don't like it, you can fuck right off." And no more funny stuff, she meant to say. Keep your hands to yourself and your lips to yourself---but somehow, she couldn't say any of it.
"Tea would be lovely," he said. He almost hid his revulsion, but she caught the twitch. Before the end of the Veil, it would have made her laugh, but now? She had to fight to keep the corners of her mouth turned down. Damn you, Cole, and the meddling horse you rode in on.
She was utterly doomed.