Chapter Text
The morning sun hung low on the horizon, its light pale and cold against the snow-covered ground. The village was quiet, save for the soft crunch of Solas’ boots as he moved back and forth, loading the sled attached to the white hart with the supplies they would need for the journey back. His movements were steady and methodical, his eyes focused as he secured the straps that held the provisions in place. The hart, a regal creature with its snowy coat and branching antlers, stood patiently, its breath visible in the crisp air.
Ellana stood near the cottage door with her mother, their voices low as they exchanged their goodbyes. Her mother’s hands lingered on Ellana’s arms, the touch warm despite the chill in the air. “You take care of yourself, da’len,” her mother said softly, her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and worry. “And remember, this will always be your home.”
Ellana nodded, her throat tightening as she tried to keep her composure. “I will, Mamae,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Ar lath ma.”
Her mother’s lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “Ar lath ma, Ellana,” she replied, her voice steady despite the emotion flickering in her eyes. She cupped her daughter’s cheek briefly, her hand warm against Ellana’s skin, before stepping back.
Solas approached then, his movements quiet but deliberate as he joined them. He inclined his head toward Ellana’s mother, his expression calm but respectful. “Enith,” he said, his voice low and steady.
Enith turned her attention to him, her gaze softening slightly as she regarded him. “You take care of her,” she said, her tone firm but kind. “And do not forget your promise.”
Solas’ ears tilted slightly forward, a subtle acknowledgment of the weight of her words. “I will not forget,” he replied, his voice carrying a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt.
Enith studied him for a moment longer before nodding, her expression easing into one of reluctant acceptance. “Good,” she said simply, stepping back to give them room.
Ellana moved toward the hart, her hand brushing against its thick, warm coat as she approached. Solas was there to help her, his hands steady as he guided her up onto the saddle. The hart shifted slightly beneath her weight, but its movements were calm, its demeanor as regal as ever. Once she was settled, Solas climbed up behind her, his arms brushing lightly against hers as he adjusted the reins.
The sled behind them creaked faintly as the hart shifted its weight, its breath puffing in the cold air. Ellana glanced back at her mother one last time, their eyes meeting as a fresh wave of emotion surged in her chest. “Ar lath ma,” she whispered again, though the words were carried away by the wind.
As the hart began to move, its hooves crunching softly against the snow, Ellana felt Solas lean forward slightly, his arms bracketing her sides as he guided the reins. The motion was subtle, but then she felt the press of his lips against the top of her head—a fleeting but deliberate gesture of comfort. The warmth of it settled over her like a blanket, easing the ache in her chest even as the distance between her and her mother grew.
The village faded behind them, the snowy landscape stretching out before them as the hart pulled them forward, its pace steady and unhurried. Ellana closed her eyes briefly, letting herself lean back against Solas, her breath mingling with the cold air.
The snowy landscape stretched endlessly before them, an unbroken expanse of white beneath a sky as pale and cold as the ground. The faint crunch of the hart’s hooves was the only sound accompanying them, each step deliberate as it pulled the sled laden with supplies. The air was biting, the kind of cold that seeped through layers of fabric and clung to the skin, but Ellana kept them warm.
The glow of her magic was subtle, unseen but felt—a quiet warmth that radiated from her core, spreading outward to envelop them and the hart. It wasn’t a spell woven with force or complexity, but rather a steady, gentle hum of her presence, an extension of herself. The chill could not touch them, though the snowflakes still caught in their hair and cloaks, melting into faint drops of water before they could linger.
Ellana leaned back into Solas, her head resting lightly against his shoulder. His arm was wrapped securely around her waist, holding her steady as the hart moved with an even gait. His other hand gripped the reins loosely, guiding the creature with quiet precision. His cloak had been pulled up around both of them, the heavy fabric draped over her shoulders and his, creating a cocoon of warmth. Ellana’s hands held the edges of the cloak together in front of her, her fingers brushing against the worn, soft material as she kept it close.
Solas shifted slightly, his grip around her waist tightening just enough to pull her closer. “Are you comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and quiet, carrying easily over the stillness of the snowy landscape.
Ellana nodded, tilting her head slightly to catch his gaze. “I am,” she replied softly, her breath visible in the cold air beyond the edge of her magic. “And you?”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes glinting in the muted light. “I am content,” he said simply, though there was a weight to his words that made her chest tighten.
Ellana turned her attention back to the horizon, her gaze tracing the faint line where the snow met the sky. She could feel the steady rise and fall of Solas’ chest against her back, the rhythm grounding her in the moment. It was a fragile peace, she knew—a fleeting reprieve from the world that awaited them. But for now, she allowed herself to hold onto it, to let it settle into the spaces where doubt and fear had once lived.
The hart let out a soft huff, its breath visible in the cold air as it moved steadily forward. Its antlers caught the occasional glint of light, casting faint shadows across the snow. Ellana reached out with her magic, a gentle touch that brushed against the creature’s aura, ensuring its warmth as well. The hart flicked its ears, a quiet acknowledgment of her presence, and she smiled faintly at the small connection.
“Will we be taking the same route back?” she asked, her voice soft, the question slipping easily into the calm air around them.
Solas nodded, his chin brushing lightly against the top of her head as he adjusted his grip on the reins. “Yes,” he replied, his voice low and even. “The path is familiar, and it will take us to the cave by nightfall.”
Ellana turned her head slightly to glance at him, catching the faintest flicker of his expression in the corner of her vision. His focus remained forward, his eyes scanning the horizon with quiet purpose. The mention of the cave stirred memories of their journey to the village—the brief respite it had offered them from the snowstorm, the way the firelight had danced against the stone walls, and the moments of quiet closeness they had shared as they waited for the storm to pass.
“The cave,” she echoed softly, her tone thoughtful. “It feels like it has been longer than a few days since we left it.”
Solas’ lips curved faintly, though the expression did not quite reach his eyes. “Time moves differently in the village,” he said, his voice carrying a quiet note of understanding. “Moments seem to linger there.”
Ellana nodded, her fingers brushing absently against the edge of the cloak she held tightly in front of her. She thought of her mother, and felt a pang of longing settle in her chest. But she let it pass, her attention returning to the present and the steady pace of their journey.
“The cave will be a good place to rest,” Solas said after a moment, his tone practical but carrying a note of something softer—consideration, perhaps, or a quiet acknowledgment of the journey’s toll. “The wind will pick up as we climb toward it, but the shelter will be worth the effort.”
Ellana glanced back at him again, her expression softening. “You think of everything,” she murmured, her words half teasing, though her tone was filled with genuine affection.
Solas tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I prefer to be prepared,” he said simply, though the warmth in his voice betrayed the weight of his words.
Ellana tilted her head slightly, her gaze soft as she glanced back at Solas. “How long did you study the maps before we left?” she asked, her tone light but tinged with genuine curiosity.
Solas’ lips curved into another faint smile, though he kept his gaze forward, the reins steady in his hands. “For a while,” he admitted, his voice calm and even. “I wanted to ensure we would have the safest path, especially with the snowstorms lingering in the higher elevations.”
Ellana raised an eyebrow, though the motion was more teasing than skeptical. “A while,” she echoed, her lips curving into a small smile of her own. “You mean you memorized every detail, did you not?”
Solas’ ears flicked slightly forward, a subtle gesture that betrayed his quiet amusement. “It is important to be thorough,” he replied, his tone carrying a note of mock seriousness that made her chest ache with a strange warmth.
Ellana shook her head, her smile softening. “You never stop thinking ahead, do you?” she murmured, her voice low but filled with quiet affection.
“I cannot afford to,” Solas said simply, though his tone was gentler now, the weight of his words tempered by the warmth in his gaze as it briefly flicked to her. “Not when there are so many uncertainties.”
“Well,” she said softly, her tone lightening as she glanced up at him again, “I suppose I should thank you for ensuring we will not get lost.”
Solas’ lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, his eyes glinting with a quiet humor. “It would not reflect well on my thoroughness if we did,” he replied, his voice carrying a rare playfulness that made her heart ache in the best way.
The journey had stretched long into the night, the stars high above offering the only light to guide their path. By the time they reached the familiar cave, Ellana was exhausted, her limbs heavy with the ache of travel. The hart slowed as it approached the rocky entrance, its breath visible in the cold air, and Solas brought it to a stop with practiced ease.
Ellana remained seated for a moment, her hands still clutching the edges of the cloak they had shared. Her muscles protested as she shifted, but Solas was already dismounting, his movements swift and efficient. He reached up to her, his hands steady as he helped her down from the saddle. His touch lingered briefly, a quiet steadiness that she appreciated more than she could say.
“You should rest,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm as he turned toward the entrance of the cave. “I will see to everything.”
Ellana nodded, her breath fogging the air as she stepped aside to give him space. Solas worked quickly, his hands moving with precision as he began setting wards around the cave’s entrance. The faint shimmer of magic lit the air briefly as each ward settled into place, the protective barrier weaving itself with a quiet hum.
While he worked, Ellana led the hart to the shelter of the rock wall near the entrance, brushing its soft coat and murmuring a few quiet words of gratitude before leaving it to rest. By the time she turned back to the cave, Solas had already begun unpacking the sled, his movements efficient and deliberate. He carried the bedrolls and furs inside, laying them out in the same spot they had used during their last visit.
The space quickly became familiar once more. The furs were spread thickly across the rocky floor, layered with blankets to ward off the chill. The faint scent of dried herbs lingered in the air, a memory of the supplies they had burned to keep warm the last time they were here.
Ellana stepped into the cave, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders as the wind howled briefly outside. She watched as Solas knelt near the fire pit they had built days ago, his hands deftly arranging the wood he had carried in. When the fire was ready, he looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light.
“Light it?” he asked, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of trust.
Ellana nodded, stepping forward as she raised a hand. She closed her eyes briefly, letting her magic flow through her. A faint warmth stirred at her fingertips before a small flame flickered into existence, dancing along the wood. The fire caught quickly, the soft glow spreading across the cave walls and chasing away the shadows.
Satisfied, she moved to her bedroll, lowering herself onto the soft furs with a quiet sigh. The heat from the fire warmed her face as she unlaced her boots, tugging them off and setting them aside before extending her feet toward the flames. The chill of the journey lingered in her toes, but the warmth of the fire quickly began to chase it away.
Solas remained by the sled, sorting through the supplies with the same methodical care he had shown since their journey began. The flickering firelight cast long shadows over his form, highlighting the sharp lines of his face and the fluid grace of his movements. Ellana watched him in silence for a moment, her hands resting lightly in her lap as she let herself appreciate the quiet competence he exuded.
Solas finished sorting through the supplies, his movements precise as he placed everything back in its place on the sled. Then, without a word, he crossed the cave to where Ellana sat, the firelight casting golden hues over her features. In his hands, he carried a small bundle wrapped in cloth. He knelt beside her, unwrapping it carefully to reveal slices of bread and a small jar of jam—her mother’s handwriting faintly visible on the lid.
Ellana smiled faintly, taking the bundle from him and breaking off a piece of bread. She spread a thin layer of the jam, the scent of spiced berries filling the air, and handed the first piece to Solas. He accepted it with a quiet nod of thanks before settling beside her, his long legs folding beneath him as he leaned back against the stone wall.
They ate in silence for a time, the soft crackle of the fire filling the space between them. The bread was dense and comforting, the jam sweet and tangy on her tongue. She glanced at Solas as he took a bite of his piece, his movements unhurried but deliberate. His ears flicked faintly, a subtle gesture that betrayed his thoughts.
After a moment, Solas paused, lowering the bread in his hand. His gaze shifted to the fire, his expression thoughtful but edged with something heavier. “We must speak,” he said finally, his voice low but steady.
Ellana set her piece of bread down carefully, her hands folding in her lap as she turned to face him. “All right,” she said softly, her tone calm though her chest tightened at the weight in his words.
Solas hesitated, his eyes meeting hers briefly before shifting back to the fire. “When we return to the palace,” he began, his voice deliberate, “it is very important that we act as if… nothing has changed.”
Ellana’s breath caught, the quiet ache in her chest flaring into something sharper. She knew this—knew the reality of the world they were returning to. But hearing him say it aloud, with such careful detachment, made the truth feel heavier than ever.
Ellana’s voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, as she finally spoke. “I know,” she said, looking away, her words trembling under the weight of the reality they both carried. The ache in her chest deepened, spreading like a quiet ache she could not shake.
Solas exhaled slowly, his expression shadowed as he reached out, his hand lifting to gently take her chin between his fingers. His touch was firm but careful, guiding her gaze to meet his. The firelight flickered between them, casting shifting shadows across his eyes, which were now filled with something heavy—something almost unspoken.
“This is very important, Ellana,” he said, his voice low but edged with quiet intensity. “If Mythal suspects even…” He trailed off, the words hanging in the air between them like an unfinished thought, heavy with the things he could not say.
Ellana’s breath hitched at the pause, her chest tightening further. She searched his face, her own heart twisting as she caught the faint flicker of regret in his expression.
“I am sorry,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, almost breaking with the weight of his words. “It was selfish of me to get close to you. To knowingly put you in danger.”
Ellana blinked, his words cutting through her like a blade. She shook her head slightly, her voice trembling as she responded, “You think… you think Mythal would hurt me? Out of jealousy?”
Solas’ expression darkened, his ears twitching slightly as though her words struck a chord. He did not answer immediately, his gaze dropping briefly before returning to hers. “No,” he said quietly, his voice steady but heavy with something colder. “Not out of jealousy. Out of possessiveness. Out of ownership.”
Ellana froze, her breath catching in her throat. The word hung between them, sharp and jagged, and she felt a shiver run through her that had nothing to do with the cold. Ownership. The weight of it pressed against her, the implications suffocating as they settled over her.
“She would see it as a threat,” Solas continued, his tone measured but tinged with quiet sorrow. “Not to her affection for me, but to her control. To her power.”
Ellana stared at him, her mind reeling as she tried to make sense of what he was saying—of the stark, brutal reality he had laid bare before her. She thought of Mythal, of the quiet, commanding presence she had served for so long, and felt a flicker of something she could not name—something cold and uncertain that left her unmoored.
“And you believe she would hurt me because of that?” she asked, her voice barely audible, the question trembling as it left her lips.
Solas’ hand tightened ever so slightly against her chin, his touch grounding even as his expression remained shadowed. “Yes,” he said simply, his voice low but unwavering. “If it meant maintaining control, she would.”
The finality of his words sent a wave of emotion crashing over her, leaving her breathless. Ellana closed her eyes briefly, the weight of the moment settling heavily in her chest. She could feel Solas’ hand still on her chin, steady and unyielding, and for a moment, she let herself lean into the quiet strength of his presence.
“I do not care what she thinks she owns,” Ellana said finally, her voice soft but filled with a quiet resolve. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with a steadiness that surprised even herself. “You are not hers.”
Solas’ expression softened, a flicker of something—gratitude, perhaps, or quiet admiration—passing over his features. But the sorrow in his eyes remained, a shadow he could not shake.
“For now,” he said softly, his voice tinged with a sadness that made her chest ache, “we must let her believe otherwise.”
Ellana’s fingers tightened slightly around his hand, her grip firm despite the turmoil roiling inside her. Her gaze searched his, seeking answers in the depths that seemed far too calm for the weight of their conversation. She inhaled slowly, steadying herself against the storm of emotions threatening to rise.
“I never thought Mythal capable of such things,” she said softly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. The words tasted bitter on her tongue, as though speaking them aloud gave them a weight she hadn’t been ready to bear.
Solas’ expression remained carefully composed, though his ears tilted slightly backward—a subtle sign of the tension he carried. His fingers curled lightly against hers, the motion a quiet acknowledgment of her words. “She is capable of far more than you realize,” he said, his voice low and tinged with a sorrow that made her chest ache. “She is not the mother or protector you have known.”
Ellana’s heart clenched at his words. She thought of Mythal—of the quiet strength and wisdom she had always admired, of the measured grace that commanded loyalty and respect. The thought of her capable of such cruelty, of wielding power in ways that stripped others of their agency, felt like a betrayal. How much of what I believed is a lie?
“But why?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper as her gaze dropped to their joined hands. “Why would she need to do this? To control you so completely?”
Solas held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes softened by something that felt like regret but carried the weight of understanding. His hand tightened gently against hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gesture of quiet reassurance. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and deliberate, each word chosen with care.
“Power,” he said softly, “has a way of corrupting even the most benevolent. Even those with the purest intentions can find themselves consumed by its weight.”
Ellana’s chest tightened at his words, her gaze faltering as she glanced down at their joined hands. She thought of Mythal as she had always seen her—a figure of wisdom and balance, a protector of their people. But now, the edges of that image began to blur, the cracks in its perfection growing more pronounced with every truth Solas revealed.
“She has always sought to protect,” Ellana said quietly, her voice trembling as she tried to reconcile the two versions of Mythal in her mind. “To guide. How does that become something so…” She trailed off, unable to find the word that could encapsulate the sharp edge of cruelty she now saw in Mythal’s control over Solas.
Solas exhaled softly, his gaze flickering to the firelight before returning to her. “Because protection can become possession,” he said, his voice tinged with sorrow. “Guidance can become domination. The line between them is thin, and power has a way of blurring it entirely.”
Ellana’s fingers tightened around his, her breath hitching as his words settled over her. She wanted to argue, to push back against the idea that Mythal, the queen she had served so faithfully, could have fallen to such corruption. But she couldn’t—not when she had seen glimpses of it herself, in the moments when Mythal’s presence had felt more like a weight than a comfort.
“And what about you?” she asked softly, her gaze lifting to meet his once more. “Do you fear power’s corruption?”
Solas hesitated, his expression shifting as though the question struck closer than he expected. His ears tilted slightly backward, a subtle motion that betrayed his discomfort, but his voice remained steady when he spoke. “I fear what it demands,” he said simply. “And what it takes.”
Ellana’s heart ached at the quiet honesty in his words. She had seen what power demanded of Solas—how it had bound him to Mythal, stripping away his choices and forcing him into a role that left him no room to breathe. And yet, he carried it all with a strength that left her both awed and heartbroken.
His thumb brushed lightly against her skin, the touch warm and grounding despite the cold truths they had just shared.
“Ellana,” he murmured, her name a quiet sigh on his lips, heavy with meaning.
She looked up at him, her chest tightening as she searched his face. There was something achingly tender in his gaze, something that made her feel as though the world outside the cave had faded into nothingness. She felt his hand slide from her cheek to her shoulder, his grip firm but gentle as he pulled her closer.
“Sleep,” he said softly, his voice low but steady, filled with an earnestness that made her heart ache even more. “Let me hold you while I still can.”
Ellana hesitated, her breath catching at his words. While I still can. The finality of the phrase sent a shiver down her spine, though it was not born of the cold. She wanted to tell him there would be more moments like this, that he wouldn’t lose what they had slowly begun building together. But the quiet resignation in his voice, the way he carried himself as though bracing for the inevitable, silenced her protests.
Wordlessly, she allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace, her body leaning against his as he wrapped his arms around her. The heat of the fire seemed distant compared to the warmth of him, steady and encompassing, a quiet strength that soothed the ache in her chest. Her head rested against his shoulder, her hair brushing against his jaw as she exhaled softly, letting her body relax into his.
Solas held her as though she were something precious, his grip firm but never restricting, his hand resting lightly against her back. His chin dipped slightly, and she felt the faint press of his lips against the crown of her head—a fleeting gesture, tender and full of unspoken promises.
“I will keep you safe,” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the soft crackle of the fire. “For as long as I am able.”
Ellana closed her eyes, her fingers curling lightly against the fabric of his tunic as she let his words settle over her. She knew he meant them, knew he would do everything in his power to protect her, even if it came at a cost to himself. But the thought of him carrying that weight alone made her chest ache all the more.