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His dreams are not kind. There are eyes following him through a dense forest, unblinking embers in the dark as he stumbles forward on two legs, sometimes four paws. There are voices moving between the leaves, familiar and foreign, and he cannot catch the individual words as he runs away from it all. The intent is there, however. Anger, sorrow, misery, thousands of screams from the thousands of lives laid at his feet.
They grow louder until it is a rush of noise that morphs into a roar, but it is no animal that follows him. He feels the heat on his back as a firestorm made of all his transgressions consumes the trees behind and around him. He runs and he runs, the inferno never growing closer but his attempt at escape never sees him far from the flames.
Somewhere, a child’s cry cuts through it all and his feet falter at the sound. He tumbles over himself, twigs and stones cutting into skin, and looks up into the blackened sky when he comes to a stop. A mouth full of flaming fangs surges forward to devour him. He feels the heat on his face, the grasping hands of corpses upon his back, and her anguished sobs in his ears.
Solas wakes in the dark but it is made soft by gentle lights of amber floating in the canopy above. He stares at them slowly ambling in circles with his heart raging inside his chest and his breaths echoing in the still slumber of night. It is not an uncommon thing for him to be haunted by demons of the past yet it has been some time since the Fade has conspired against him in such a manner.
He turns in the bed, seeking the solace of a warm touch, only to find himself the sole occupant.
“Keela?” It is quiet and peaceful but the lingering nightmare presses painful ideas to the forefront of his mind. His feet hit soft fur and then stone as he moves across the room, a ball of blue fire bursting from his palm to light the corners and crannies but not her familiar frame.
He calls to her again in the hallway, feels the blaze of the monster from his dreams breathing down his neck with each passing second. Light leaks through the last open door and when he peers inside his worries dissipate into smoke. The nightmare is forgotten as a possessive pride born of affection blossoms in its place. The chair barely rocks beneath her as she sits with eyes closed and a squirming bundle wrapped up in her arms. A shawl drapes halfway onto the floor, a slipper slipping off a foot and hair parted at awkward angles, and he smiles at such a beautiful sight.
Muted feet pad across the heavy carpeted floor and he kneels down by her side, gently reaching out to her arm. “Keela.”
She takes a sharp breath, eyelids jumping open, and his calming touch stops her from launching herself out of the chair. Her gaze immediately drops to the child in her grasp and she lets out a sigh to see their daughter still safe and sound.
“I was only resting my eyes,” she mumbles.
Solas gives soft laugh. “Of course. Return to bed, vhenan. I will put her to sleep.”
She brushes through soft hair, unwilling to let go so quickly, and he understands her reluctance. He has often sat here under the spell of chubby cheeks and limbs, bright eyes and little fingers that hold him hostage. He does not mind being bound to this, however. Keela runs her finger down a tiny nose, drawing out a smile and a gurgle of sounds. She whispers against soft skin in Antivan, promises and adoration and praises he has made in Elvhen, and he hopes their child will always understand how loved they are in every way possible.
With another sigh, she stands and finally relents the small burden into his care. Fenera lets out a noise of protest before squeals of another nature leave her as she recognizes whose arms she now finds herself in. She reaches for him and Solas drops his face into her fingers. They are quick things as they grasp onto his chin, slide down his cheek. When they travel to his nose and, unfortunately, inside, he gives a huff and pulls away.
“Da fen,” he chastises, unable to hold his severe frown for too long as she laughs and wiggles. A few months old and they can already see the roots of her personality growing in the way she demands their attention and holds it with curious expressions and inspired tirades. He does not always understand, but he can see her learning with each new day.
As Keela walks to the door he takes her place in the chair, feet pressing into the soft floor to move them in slow arches. “Don’t stay too long,” she says and he knows by the gentleness of her voice that it’s not a command she will hold him to.