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Solas stood at the precipice looking down at the ruins below, hands clasped behind his back. He did not turn as he heard Lavellan approach. Instead, he stiffened – waiting, watching.
“Solas,” she called his name.
It took all he had not to turn and face her, not to reach for her. He knew this was a memory, an echo of the past – it was a memory he couldn’t help but replay over and over again through the fade. It had been years since he’d seen her, truly her, and not a shadow of who she was.
Solas steeled his nerved and watched the well-worn memory. He knew it by heart.
The echo of Lavellan brushed past him down the slope to the edge of the stone ruins. He saw the memory of himself there, waiting, turn to face her with a smile as he prepared to share the wonderful place full of history that he’d found.
Solas had been eager to share this place with Lavellan. She had been so excited to learn all she could of ancient elven culture, her heritage. She had been so excited for any bit of knowledge or understanding of where her people had come from. He had found this place for her, desperate to share this place with her.
Lavellan smiled as Solas reached his hand out to help her down the last bit of the slope leading into the ruins. She took it gratefully.
“This place,” Solas explained, “was a temple were favors were asked and, sometimes, granted.”
“What kind of favors? Who granted them?” Lavellan placed a hand on the sun-warmed stone and gazed up at the ruined wall.
“All sorts of favors, I would assume. The strength the conquer an enemy, the tools to produce a bountiful crop,” Solas paused. “The words to woo a love.”
Lavellan raised an eyebrow with a coy smile before turning from him to continue through the ruins.
Solas stood, unflinching, as he watched the memory of themselves tour the ruins. While he couldn’t hear the words, he remembered them all perfectly, as well as the bright-eyed enthusiasm as she barraged him with questions.
He also remembered this as the day he had fallen, truly, for her – fallen past the barriers he’d carefully placed, fallen past the promises he’d made to himself to not get too involved. He’d made a mistake, then made that mistake again and again. He had known in that moment that he would have to either trust her with his secret, or he’d have to break her heart.
The memory of that thought twisted in his heart like a knife as he continued to watch the memory of themselves, as he watched the echo of Lavellan turn to him, smiling.
Lavellan took his hand in excitement as they came to a faded and worn tapestry. The colors were dull and the material was all but threadbare, but the image was there – the outline of a large wolf with several eyes, looking up to the moon while a dozen, smaller elf-like figures stood at it’s feet, faces turned up to the moon.
She gasped in awe, and Solas smiled at her. He had taken a chance to show her this. He’d hoped she would like to see this remnant of the past. He knew she would not recognize this as a part of him, but the gasp of wonder made his heart flutter.
“This is beautiful,” Lavellan whispered.
“That is the extraordinary thing about the fade,” Solas squeezed her hand, “amazing things are preserved within the threads of memory here.”
“Ma serannas, Solas. This place is truly astonishing.” Lavellan leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away to take a closer look at the artwork.
Solas smiled with pride, happy to have pleased her.
“Ma vhenan… Lavellan, I…” Solas pulled her back to face him. He had a serious look on his face, hoping to search her eyes for an answer to the question that plagued him. Would he tell her? Could he? Would she understand?
He hesitated before reaching out to gently cup her face. He ran a thumb over the simple, incomplete valaslin of Mythal along her cheekbones.
She tore her eyes from the tapestry to meet his. “Solas, this is -”
Before she could say anything, he pulled her in close with an arm wrapped around her waist, and kissed her, hungrily, like he would never again have the chance. He knew that either way, this would soon come to a head. He steeled his nerve in that moment and vowed to himself that he would either end this soon, or tell her everything. Soon.
“I should have told her,” Solas whispered to himself aloud from where he watched his own memory. “I should have told her then. Or I should have told her when I removed the markings. I should have trusted her.”
Solas turned from the memory as it faded into a smoke. A single tear fell down his cheek as his brow knitted in anguish. He shook his head as if to push the emotion away to a part of his heart that could be locked away, at least for now.
“The sooner I finish this, the sooner I can find her,” Solas’ voice wavered as he spoke to nobody. “If she’ll still have me when this is all over.”