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The Inquisition Remembers

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A few months after he left she sent out scouts knowing fully well that they would return empty handed. She searched in both in the physical realm and in the fade for years before stopping from one moment to the other. He was always able to avoid her yet it was strangely pleasing when he could find some mementos that she left behind. Whether these were just a bight and vague body shape across the empty roads or whispers carried by the wind. Sometimes it was possible to even smell her perfume as if she had been there but a few seconds before he, specially in Haven.

Solas often found himself returning to Haven for more reasons than one. It was where his tired brain carried him when the fatigue was too strong or he just needed a moment of self indulgence before moving on. He never stayed for long, it was foolish to tarry and it was a distraction from what needed to be done.

It was in one of those selfish moments that he found her standing on the top of the stairs of the chantry in Haven. She looked very much like the last time that he saw her. He almost had forgotten how the parts of dark blue in the icy eyes looked as deep as an ocean and how easy it was to drown in them. When he first met the Inquisitor her eyes seemed hungry for everything that they could absorbe in a few seconds from a world she nearly knew nothing about. Her hunger felt at times like an uncontrollable wildfire and it was a familiar feeling to him and unexpected from a Dalish. The hunger for knowledge was not what was unexpected but the openness to hear new ideas or different options about the Elvhen. On the other side, the Inquisitor was known for being ruthless when looking for anything that she desired to know. There was little to no stone that stayed unturned when she starting digging for what she wanted.

Her eyes still had that glim to them, and although she already carried a lot of knowledge she looked and felt wiser. Almost like a controlled flame. She wore a white and red robe with some details taken from the Dalish culture, specially from the keepers’ robes and obvious symbols from the Inquisition. She wore her vallaslin proudly while she stared at him silently, her arms were behind her back with open palms. "Whatever the marks were before, the Dalish have reclaimed them. They mark me as one of them."; For what he had experienced, the Dalish elves were prisoners to their illusion of what they called the lore of ancient elves. She was so much more than they were.

"Hello Solas." her voice was a quiet whisper, calm and smooth and it shook him deeply. It felt as if it had been only yesterday that he had left Skyhold. He blinked maintaining control over the shock and surprise that washed over him "Vhenan…" her eyes moved from the steps that she was climbing down to him, the surprise was obvious for a second before she continued descending with a small smile.

"I guess you were right when you said that Haven would always be important to me." she chuckled passing him and continuing walking. The snow was so vivid that he could feel it in his feet. His eyes followed her, this meeting left a bitter-sweet taste in his mouth and he had wished to avoid this. Meeting each other again would not accomplish anything other than pain for both of them. He held his arms on his back straightening his back.

"Yes… Yet, I did not expect to find you here." he said slowly accompanying her. She gave a short laugh. He hadn’t felt his chest so warm for a long time, it was a sensation that was missed dearly. She looked at the rising sun behind the mountains.

"I guess I didn’t expect you to let me find you here either…" the silence set in very quickly and with it Solas could hear the small whispers that surrounded her. Old verses and stories in ancient elven, warnings and callings. The Well followed her everywhere she went and she carried its weight well "You once told Cassandra…" she started hesitantly and the words lingered. He blinked turning his face to her, she stared back at him while starting to circle around him.

Varric had once called her foxling, and it was a nickname that she took as a title. It was given not only because of her small height and long red braids but also due of her behaviour. In Skyhold, she was known for discovering and using every nook and cranny that she could find and the times where her presence was felt without she announcing herself were rare. Her behaviour was familiar, but he had never been on the receiving end.

" ‘One hopes those in power will remember who helped and who did not.’ " she stopped slowly on her tracks looking at him from the corner to her eyes. Her expression changed from grave to troubled with a heavy sigh. Solas stayed silent and yet his body was stiff and his breathing shallow "That’s why I’m here now. To remind you…" she moved closer. He had dreamt of her face since he had left, in his dreams  though her eyes smiled brightly and her cheeks were as red as her hair. He maintained his hands behind his back for fear that they would betray him as he looked from her freckled cheeks to her silverite cold eyes. "Whatever you’re doing… Tread carefully."

Her words rang in the cold morning in Haven while she moved away with her long braids moving with the wind. She climbed the stairs back to the chantry, turning only slightly to him. She lift her left hand making small pieces of a broken orb he knew all too well appear and float in the air. Why had she kept the broken pieces of the orb? The green light from the anchor engulfed the pieces putting them together. The light coming from its cracks were blinding.

"Dareth shiral Fen’Harel."