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He hears her voice, familiar and warming but also horrifying and chilling to his core. It couldn’t possibly be…
He takes a moment to think about the consequences of turning around. There weren’t really any to speak of, except the guarantee that he’d have to confront his past and the horror of said confrontation. So, he turns his body to face the voice he never thought he’d hear again.
And there she stands, as radiant and powerful as she had been when they saw each other last. Lavellan .
He sees her expression, can see the fear deep within her eyes, but it’s overshadowed by the familiarity in them.
A few long seconds pass before he speaks. In those seconds, millions of things rush through him, but he very personally knows the regret, sorrow, as well as the warmth and longing. The urge to hold her close as he had a decade ago. Did ten years really pass in the blink of an eye?
She looks different now. Older and obviously more experienced, he can see a few scars that he never saw before. She’s beautiful, he knows.
He finally speaks, the words so heavy on his tongue he almost can’t get them out. “ Vhenan .” He murmurs the old word. My heart , that’s what she was, is , to him, even after all this time and what he did.
Lavellen doesn’t immediately respond. It scares him for a moment, yet he doesn’t blame her. He can’t, really. He wouldn’t be surprised if she spat at him or told him to go die, or killed him herself. Though he knew she wasn’t the type to do that. Not to him, at least.
He doesn’t speak again. He patiently awaits her answer, or for her next action. He stares back at her, and the eye contact both lifts years of weight from his shoulders but replaces it with something heavier. A yearning and longing. A need for comfort and understanding and acceptance. A need to know how much he hurt her. How much he still hurts her.
What happens after this conversation? How does he move forward without her? Will she forgive him? Can she?
She finally speaks, and his chest tightens. “My love.” She breathes the words, carrying the same tenderness he remembers. The confirmation that she still loves him. That everything isn’t broken between them.
“You’re still alive.” He says softly, like he’s surprised. He’s not, knowing her. He’s just relieved. He doesn’t know what he would have done if she wasn’t. If she were dead and buried somewhere in the world. Would he be able to go on living after that?
“I am.” She smiles faintly as she answers, and her smile is like a balm, wiping away his pain and replacing it with warmth instead.
As grateful as he is, he’s also deeply regretful. He’s already thinking about the moment being over before he can see the end. He knows that he won’t see her again for a long time after this, and he knows that she knows this too. Still, she makes the most of it.
They both make the most of it.
“It’s good to see you, my love.” Her words are so soft, so full of emotion. Of hope. Of happiness. Of home . But he needs to leave. Needs to put some distance between them, but she doesn’t let him. Oh, she doesn’t.
He exhales, shaky no matter how hard he tries to steady himself. “The feeling is mutual.” He responds.
The words feel thick and awkward in his mouth. Like he hasn’t used them for years. And he hasn’t. Years have passed since he spoke them to her. Years since the last time he held her. Years since he kissed her. Years since he slept beside her.
How does he make up for it? Can he? Will she let him if he tries?
Lavellan takes steps forward before he realizes. When he does, he meets her in the middle, and their lips meet for the first time in a decade , but it isn’t lustful; It’s hungry in the most tender way possible. It’s soft, giving and taking, loving. It’s desperate, needy, and everything but lustful.
They both starve for another the second they pull away, but time doesn’t allow for a second chance. They stare at each other again, yearning and sorrowful.
He wants to say something else, anything, but nothing comes to mind, so he lets silence take over.
“I was worried,” Lavellan tells him finally while he carefully listens. “For a while, I'd never see you again.”
He exhales again, and lets her rest her hand on his cheek, a familiar and welcome weight that he wants to burn into his skin. “I know.” He says back. He’s trying to keep his voice low and quiet so that they don’t attract any attention, but somehow, it slips anyway. He wishes he could take the words back the second they come out. But he can’t. They have to be spoken. No use holding onto them. Especially around her.
Lavellan frowns, and there’s a knowing look in her eyes. He knows what the problem is, and he mentally kicks himself for not having the solution.
“We won’t see each other for a long time again.” She mumbles. It’s not a question, it’s a state of fact, an acknowledgement of a reality he’d do anything to change.
He shakes his head with a frown. “No. We won’t.” He answers. The words sting, and he hates the bitterness that seeps into his tone, making it sound less than hopeful. But he knows it’s fate. A cruel twist of destiny that seems to have it out for both of them. Still, he is only a lover, so of course some childish part of him wishes there is another reality where they get everything they want.
Lavellan sighs, understanding. She is just as aware of the circumstances as he is, and they both despise it, as accepting as they are.
“What’s another ten years?” She asks no one in particular. He doesn’t answer, nor does he correct her on the idea that it’d only be another decade before they saw each other again. She probably knows it deep down, too. He doesn’t need to dig that knife in deeper.
He speaks finally, the words tumbling out like they’re desperate and won’t get another chance, “I love you.” He whispers, his voice trembling with the weight of unspoken years. It’s raw and unguarded, a fragile truth slipping into the air between them.
She says it back immediately, like she was waiting for permission from him. “I love you too.”
Her eyes, pools of a color he adores, shine with unshed tears, and he wants to tell her to let go just so he can kiss them off of her cheeks, but time is short and cruel.
So he kisses her once more for the last time, then gently pulls her against him. He holds her tighter than ever before, burying his face in her hair, breathing in the sweet scent of flowers that has always belonged to her. He feels her hand on his neck, caressing his pointed ears, and he closes his eyes and allows himself one last memory of her. How odd that just a few minutes can lift the weight of years.
Slowly and painfully, they part, and the looks in their eyes alone almost pull them back together, but fate doesn’t allow it.
“We will meet again. I promise.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Goodbye, vhenan .”
…
“Farewell, Solas.”