Chapter Text
He would be lying if he said he was not intrigued by the open curiosity in Evelyn's dark eyes. It was not the first time she had surprised him, or even impressed him, with her thirst for knowledge, and he worked to hide a smile as the Inquisitor once again gave him her trust, and agreed to meet him in the Fade.
The Dreaming was a welcome sight, and as he went in search for her among her dreams, he worked to form a familiar setting, the Haven where they had first met, and he decided that here would be the perfect place to have their first lesson. It was there when she had first surprised him by surviving, and it was first here that she had proven to be more warm and caring than he had ever thought he would find a mortal to be.
She stood at the gates, looking at the familiar sight with a quiet sense of wonder, a pensive tilt to her lips as she allowed her gaze to travel over the nostalgic sight. “Why here?” she asked softly as he moved to join her.
Solas took the time to explain his decision, expounding upon the need for familiarity, for the dreamer to be comfortable in order to truly learn while in the Fade. He told her how he had wondered if she would even survive upon their first meeting, he, a humble elven apostate, and she, a woman at the mercy of an unknown magic, branded a traitor. And as always, Evelyn actively listened, her gaze occasionally drawn to him as she asked another question, her fingers clasped behind her back as she tilted her head back and watched the snow fall lazily to the earth.
“But we already discussed this,” she said when he had concluded, her dark eyes roving over the distant landscape, darting upward now and then to measure the Breach.
He nodded in answer, his arms folded behind her as she worked to articulate what it was she needed to say.
“I never thanked you.” She turned and lifted her gaze to his. “Most had already decided that I was not worth the effort, but you . . . .” Her lips curved upward. “You risked your life to help me.”
Solas tilted his head and considered her for a long moment, ignoring the auburn strands of hair that had escaped her braid, framing her soft cheeks. He knew now that his reasons behind keeping her safe were a very far cry from why he had originally saved her. But how could he tell her? She was a mortal—a human. His magic had not been meant for her, and she certainly ought not to have survived.
His curiosity was stirred every time she managed to exceed his expectations, and though his growing interest could very well come back to haunt him, he could no more walk away than he could explain why his magic had not killed her.
“You intrigued me,” he said at last. “I could think of no reason why you, a mortal, could survive being sent through the Fade in physical form. None of my tests could give me an answer, and the Breach had scattered any spirits I might have gone to for counsel.” Turning, he led her to the elevated platform where she had first agreed to be the leader of the Inquisition. The sun gilded her hair, illuminating her like the holy standard Cassandra and the others had needed her to become. He looked away from her, unable to hold her gaze. “I had considered fleeing.”
She hummed, a plume of smoke escaping her lips. “But where would you have gone? The Breach would eventually have spread everywhere.”
A chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. “I never said it was a good plan. But I had hoped to put enough distance between the Breach and myself—give myself enough time to perhaps come up with a way to stop it from spreading, or even to perhaps repair it.”
“Yet, you didn’t flee.” Evelyn looked to him, but he still did not meet her gaze.
“No. I decided to make one more attempt, but it failed, as you know. And in the end . . . .”
A memory flashed through his mind, bright and vivid as the magic that connected the mark in her palm to the rift before them. Inexplicably, she had awoken, and she had been able to close the rifts.
“You sealed it with a gesture.” At last, he allowed himself to face her, shaking his head still at the wonder of what she had done. And still, he could not explain why she had been able to do it. He shook his head. “I felt the world change.”
Evelyn blinked, her lips parting in surprise before she tilted her head, her dark gaze holding his the entire time. “Felt?”
He blinked, too. Straightening, he took a step back and gathered his wits. “It is a figure of speech.”
“I am quite aware of the metaphor and the meaning behind it.” She leaned forward just a little, that same unbidden curiosity in her expression, along with a sudden longing, a quiet warmth that he had seen in her on numerous occasions. To have it suddenly directed at him, here, in the Fade, had him questioning many things. “But I cannot help but be intrigued at your choice of words; you are always so careful.”
Solas swallowed, watching as she took another step, erasing the distance between them that he had always so carefully measured. There were snowflakes in her hair, and he could almost feel her warmth, even in a dream. “You . . . changed everything,” he admitted at last, the words spoken with hesitation.
Her smile grew and she glanced away. “Another surprise,” she murmured. “I never would have imagined you saying such sweet things.” She laughed softly as he looked away, and then suddenly, her fingertips were on his cheek, turning his face toward her. Softly, she kissed him, and it was nothing more than a mere, passing caress, a bare brush of her lips against his. But he could feel her smiling still against his mouth before she pulled away.
Something warm bloomed within his chest, and without stopping to think of the faults or repercussions, he reached out and caught her wrist in his hand, stopping her from putting more distance between them. He relished in the surprise he saw in her dark eyes and the blush that spread across her cheeks before he bent and kissed her in return. It was his turn now to smile as he felt her arms circle his shoulders, and he held her close as she rose on her tiptoes to meet the slant of his mouth.
Even as he deepened the kiss, his mind was telling him of all that could go wrong. It was not right, he told himself, tightening his hold on her. He should stop this before it went too far.
But he did not stop, nor did he pull away. He basked in her warmth, in her passion, and with each little sound she made, that warmth in his chest blazed brighter, and it was with a ragged sound of his own that he pulled away, his hands still on her waist as he held her from him, his mind and his heart at war with one another.
“I should not have—“ He shook his head, struggling against the desire that rose up inside of him at the sight of her swollen mouth. “Not even here.”
Evelyn held his gaze, her eyes even darker now and filled with the same heat that threatened to overrun him. “What do you mean?” she asked, ever curious.
He could not stop his growing delight at her question, her insatiable need to understand. Reaching out, he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Where do you think we are, Evelyn?” Her name felt far too good on his tongue.
“This . . . .” Understanding dawned and her eyes widened as she looked at the scene around them. “We’re dreaming in the Fade.”
His touch drew her attention back to him, and he smiled as he smoothed his thumb over the curve of her cheek. But there was sadness in his voice as he said: “Wake up.”
Solas opened his eyes, listening for a moment at the sound of birdsong just outside his window. He allowed himself to imagine Evelyn waking up, her hair tousled from sleeping, her breathing just the slightest bit unsteady. Perhaps, she would even trace her lips, and wonder . . . .
And wonder what, he wondered.