Work Text:
“Show me.”
Solas tilted his head, gaze still despairing, desolate, even as he remained resolute. But the question was there, in the way he met her eyes, and she continued, dogged even as Solas's despair seeped into her bones as deeply as it had clearly seeped into him.
“Show me. Show me what you plan to do, show me what will happen. Show me why it is necessary, and I will stand with you, your goal as mine, until either it is achieved or we have perished.” She stared at him, the conscious reserve she'd been holding onto slipping just a little, just enough to betray her crumbling emotions.
The pause dragged on longer than she had intended, her voice cracking when she spoke despite the attempt to gather her composure, the hitch barely audible but so very loud between them.
“Trust me, Solas.”
His face twisted, crumpled as he looked away and down. The eluvian shone brightly behind him, the frozen Viddasala forgotten behind her. It was quiet, peaceful, a direct contrast to the harrowing battle to get there as quickly as possible, and it left them in silence clear enough to hear every word.
“And if you could never agree to or approve of what I plan to do?” He asked lowly, still not looking at her.
She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before answering.
“Then you stand with me, and we find another way. If what you say is true, if what I've learned since meeting you is true, then I will fight as hard as any other to fix what has gone wrong. I am not asking that you abandon all you hope to achieve; I ask only that you work with me, with others, to make sure this will not add to your regrets rather than absolve them.” There was desperation in her voice, a naked need for him to hear her.
She had been edging closer to him, unconscious of the movement. She had eyes only for his face, Solas finally looking at her again, emotions playing beneath the surface even as his features remained ultimately inscrutable but for the sorrow that had been there since he had first turned to face her.
But now she was conscious of the remaining space, barely a hands breadth between them as the silence dragged out. She ached to reach out, to pull him to her, to chase away the hopelessness he carried and show him that he still had choices, that not all was yet set in stone.
Fear like icy tendrils had firm grasp of her heart, a immutable dread that if he walked through that eluvian his path would be set, his only choice to forge onward, for good or ill, to destruction or peace, absolution or oblivion, and her own future determined just as certainly.
She could feel the ice spread, cold so sharp it stole her breath, when he finally responded, slowly shaking his head.
“No. This will not be your burden, vhenan.”
She shattered like ice too, raw and jagged, all sharp edges that she knew she would cut and bleed from later, but right now she was numb. Despair and certainty, a dull ache as the knowledge of what she and Solas would be once he walked through that eluvian settled into place.
Solas seemed to sense it too, some part of him pleased to see her hope fade, to be replaced by acceptance. But part of him broke as well, a moment of anguish and loss visible in his eyes before he shuttered it away.
“We are running out of time.” He said.
She opened her mouth to ask, but she did not have a chance to utter the question, nor was it necessary as the pain of the mark returned in force. She dropped to her knees, couldn't stop the collapse even as she wished she was strong enough to stand tall before him, to the last.
But then he was there, reaching out for her hand, asking. His voice sounded like it came from very far away, and she grasped his hand like the lifeline she knew it couldn't be anymore, as pain eroded her senses and a small part of her felt joy at the thought she wouldn't live long enough to see, to have to live through, what would come.
“I am sorry.” Solas's eyes flared, and he made a motion with his free hand.
Her eye was drawn by the flash of magic, and she watched, unblinking, as it destroyed the mark, taking her arm with it. There was no pain, only blessed relief, a surge of joy unreasonable to the situation. She recognized, dimly, that at some point she would grieve, look down in horror and wish for things to have been different. But at that moment, she felt only lightness, a terrible weight, a terrible pain, gone.
Solas stepped back, and she stood groggily before realizing it was what she was doing, still looking down at where her arm used to be and thoughts moving sluggishly. He started to turn away, to move toward the eluvian, everything coming back into sharp focus as he did. She caught his arm and moved on impulse, one last moment before their roles would be set, their positions taken.
Her lips crashed against his, her hand twisted in the pelt crossing his chest and pulling him to her firmly. He tensed, and she gentled the press of her lips against his, desperation fading into sorrowful sweetness. Her last goodbye before he would push her back, away. That shift seemed to freeze him, something changing in the way he felt pressed against her, her only warning before he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her against his chest, holding her so tightly he pulled her feet off the ground as he took her mouth.
Deep, desperate kisses that left her needing, but not wanting, air. His arms looped around her, one crossing her back to tangle in her hair, the other low around her waist, keeping her body pressed firmly against him from thighs to chest. The stump of her arm moved clumsily, but she used the other to hold him just as tightly as he did her.
They broke apart only to surge together again, neither of their holds breaking, only their lips accepting any distance between them and then only long enough to gasp air before seeking each other once more. The ache in her chest was heavy and constant, the sweetness of his touch tenfold in the face of knowing it would be the last time, that when next they met it would be in opposition.
The next time they pulled apart, he came back with swift, shallow kisses that he would not allow her to deepen, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth, dipping in to taste but withdrawing before she could respond, all with an intense concentration and focus, as if he was trying to memorize every detail.
She responded by closing her own teeth on his full lower lip, biting down until he could not suppress his flinch any longer. The hand on her hip gripped tighter, the hand in her hair sunk deeper, though he was so careful not to pull. His lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile, and she was surprised to realize it matched her own, pulled out of them despite themselves and pressed together like perfect puzzle pieces.
An intense urge swept her up, and she acted on it before the bittersweet sense memory of when he was hers and she was his faded. He chased after her when she pulled to the side, trailing her lips against his jaw, but he soon stopped, a sound she very much would have wanted to hear catching in his throat as she tightened the hand on the back of his neck in a silent command to hold still.
His pulse was rapid and thudding, and she opened her mouth and laved her tongue over the point where it was strongest before sinking her teeth in, hard. This time, a deep groan ripped it's way out, Solas turning into her, hiding his face in her hair. She sucked, bruising his flesh neatly, precisely. Let go, slid her mouth just slightly lower, and bit down again, repeating the process until the mark was large, made up of deep bruising that would not fade any time soon, assuming he did not heal it.
She could feel restlessness building in him as she did it, both of them still clutching together tightly but he was shifting against her now, his thigh slipping between hers, the hand at her hip drifting lower. He pulled her back sharply by her hair as soon as she finished, taking her mouth once more, and this, she knew, was their last kiss.
There were no smiles left, no careful movements, no finesse. Nothing hidden, nothing held back, a final moment of utter honesty, given and taken and so very cruel. The last goodbye of two twisted, broken hearts.
And then it was over.
She remained standing until he had vanished through the eluvian. She could manage that much, if nothing else. After, she sank to her knees, finally letting her shoulders shake with grief and loss, hot tears streaming and the stump of her arm clutched to her chest.
---------- ---------- ----------
Solas stepped forward, one careful, measured step through the eluvian turning into a stumble as anguish hit him like a physical blow, dropping him to his knees. His eyes filled, blurring his vision and obscuring his view of a world he was glad to lose sight of, the tears falling unnoticed as he hung his head.
His hands clenched into fists as every part of him ached to return, to pull her back into his arms and let his selfish desires harm and destroy her, as they inevitably would, as they already had. Instead, he let out a yell that ripped its way out of his throat, the pain satisfying and fueling the blast of magic he let loose, uncaring of where it went, what it hit.
Then he was still, gasping quietly for air that burned his lungs, hands trembling as he slowly, carefully, started turning his mind away. Tucking the memories, the emotions as far into the dark depths of his thoughts as possible, where he could keep them such that they would not break him. How close she had come...how little of his will had been left.
Enough. That was what mattered.
He pulled himself up to his feet slowly, moving like the old man Sera had thought him to be. Felt a twinge of pain as he turned his head to look at the destruction he had wrought and froze, feet suddenly rooted to the ground. Eyes unseeing as he raised his hand to the source, dragging his fingertips over the mark she had left and creating another sharp sting that faded oh so quickly.
Suddenly desperate, he pressed hard, feeling the flare of pain and drinking it in eagerly as it lingered longer, though it too ultimately faded away. He hesitated, hand hovering, uncertain even as he knew what he should do. It would be the work of seconds to heal the mark, remove the reminder and keep others from seeing, wondering. A trivial task.
He covered it with his palm, applied pressure until the pain was a soft throbbing that he could feel even when he dropped his hand.
Some wounds you carry.