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It had been his mistake not to face him to begin with. Were it anger, anger for being left behind, or an uncertainty as to where they stood, or were it disappointment, he could not say.
He knew only the weariness in his own voice, the plea for him to wake, to help. He knew the way the Fade formed around them, a dream within a dream, a promise left unfulfilled. The way the fire would flicker and crackle, how it looked reflected in guarded violet eyes. That, he knew as well as his own name.
Leaves crunched as he approached. He did not sit beside Felassan. He stood behind, silent and once situated, unmoving. The silence lingered, lasting minutes rather than mere moments. A breeze blew; strands of Felassan’s hair freed from his braid covered his eyes. He huffed, trying to blow them from his face and jumped, startled, when a quiet chuckle interrupted the suffocating silence. “I can’t bring myself to cut it,” Felassan said.
The chuckle died down to quiet once more but still he said nothing.
“Fuck’s sake, Solas. Sit down at least, would you?”
A moment’s hesitation, a breath, as he seemed to consider his options before, to Felassan’s surprise, the familiar noise of a changing appearance was followed by a figure in his periphery. And when he turned his head, the figure was familiar, but different. Quieter than he had ever known Solas to be.
Solas, who had prided himself on his appearance, who had stood tall despite even, folded his hands in his lap, clothed onto in a simple black robe left loose and untied, hunched his shoulders over. Perhaps most worrisome of all was his expression. Felassan had known him when happy. Had known him when confident and assured. Had known him when he had known only grief and sorrow. He had seen anger and fear and embarrassment. Seeing only cold neutrality on Solas’ features was frightening.
“Why here?”
Two words, on a hoarse tongue, but two words nonetheless. Felassan’s expression softened though he did not reach to touch Solas the way he might have once, to nudge him to laughter, to tease him.
When Felassan did not answer immediately, Solas asked again. “Why here? Every time we speak, you bring us here.”
“You made me a promise here.” Felassan gazed up at the sky, the stars, the moons half-hidden behind clouds locked in a painting of a moment in time. “I was thinking about that promise when I found you again.”
A promise made in better times. Escaped from a dinner party where they had set up countless tricks meant to embarrass any who stumbled upon them (though more specifically Sylaise, Solas had admitted when Felassan had needled how oddly targeted some of them seemed), stumbling out past the city limits, guards letting them go without suspicious looks for Solas’ newly-given status among the Evanuris. They had found the clearing and decided to sleep out under the open sky, the grandeur the city left behind for simpler times.
Laying beside one another, Solas’ cloak spread out over the both of them and a warming glyph underneath them, Felassan had been taken with Solas’ eyes, delighted and warm and just tipsy enough to be unfocusing, flitting from one thing to the next. “Sileal,” Felassan had whispered and watched Solas’ lips quirk up at the sound of his first name, taken from him when another had been gifted instead.
“I wish,” Solas had murmured, almost dazed, “that we could stay here forever.” Such hope was fleeting. Solas’ eyes flicked down to Felassan’s lips before returning to his gaze. “I wish my only desire was you.”
“Now don’t go soft on me, wolf,” Felassan warned, a smile softening the blow of the words, even as Solas himself smiled and shook his head and pressed a delicate finger to Felassan’s lips. A finger, calloused and worn as a warrior. Solas wanted only to advise yet he had been a general; a general Felassan respected, revered, and longed to ensure could retire.
“Hush,” Solas said. “I am being genuine and vulnerable. Such things are difficult for me.” Felassan snorted. Solas propped himself up on his elbow, the cloak sliding down from his shoulder to his waist, his chest bare under the delicate chains that wrapped around him as though clothing.
“One day,” Solas continued, eyes focused, unclouded, stealing Felassan’s breath, “one day it will be. You will be the only thing I want for. And we will be here and I will-”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Felassan said weakly.
Solas’ eyes searched his, the corners of his lips turning down into the slightest of frowns. “One day you will be the only thing I want,” he repeated. Felassan could hardly breathe for the look on his face, in his eyes, determination and something unknowable. Distracted as he was by Solas’ eyes, he was surprised when lips pressed to his, soft and slightly chapped and tasting of the wine they had both drank too much of.
He hadn’t reacted quickly enough, he knew, when Solas pulled back, opening his mouth to apologise, barely starting with his name—“Fel-”—before Felassan lunged forward and kissed him eagerly, fingers tangling painfully in the chains of Solas’ so-called shirt.
Solas’ fingers tangled in his hair, the loose bun falling apart further. The strap snapped, hair freed, as Solas pushed himself up onto his elbow, his hand lingering on Felassan’s chest before resting on his hip. “One day,” he whispered. “I promise.”
Solas stared, not at him, but at the flickering flames that drew golden lights and deep shadows alike across his face. Felassan exhaled a sigh and took Solas’ hand in his own, tracing the outline with his fingertips. Remembering callouses and scars and places where they had known pain. “Solas,” Felassan said softly, imploring. “I know things have changed. I know the world is not as you remember.”
“It is broken.” His voice was hollow. “I broke it.”
“You did what you had to, to keep the people safe,” Felassan argued. “You did what was right.”
“They call me a monster.”
“They don’t know you.” He raised the hand to his lips, kissed each fingertip. “I’ve seen you do this, you know, again and again. You bury yourself in grief and guilt and shut everything else out. I wish you would listen to me in these times the way you do the rest of the time.” Solas said nothing. His shoulders hunched, glinting light catching on silent tears. “You are my oldest friend, Wisdom. I wish you would let me be the same in turn.”
“You are.” Shuddered words. “You are my oldest friend.”
“Then listen to me, please.” Felassan wrapped his other hand around the back of Solas’ and held it to his heart. “Listen to me when I say this. You must live amongst the elves of today before you can make a decision as to what to do next. You would do them a disservice to not even try. To learn them as they are. They are not our people, but they are a people.” Solas’ mouth opened, perhaps to argue, but Felassan shook his head and cut him off. “They are descendents of our people. They name their clans after our people without knowing they do so. So much has been lost to history, to conquerors and wars and those who would see them buried. You want to be their protector again, Solas? Then you must walk among them again.”
The fire crackled. Birds chirped and bugs sang and occasionally a breeze blew through this section of the Fade carved out for them. Solas’ jaw tensed and shifted and relaxed. The muscles of his face twitched.
Finally, he sighed.
“Alright.”
Felassan’s eyes closed. The wind knocked out of him, he slumped into Solas’ side and rested his head on his shoulder. After a moment, a gentle pressure told him Solas had returned to the gesture. “Thank you, Solas.”
He had succeeded this time.
This time, things would be different.