there are a lot of time travel Lavellans out there (and I love each one), but what about time travel Solas? A Fenâharel thatâs been doing this song and dance for lifetimes beyond counting? Who falls in love with Lavellan over, and over, and over again. He tells himself, âthis time, I shall spare us both.â
Yet there no world in which he can regret that first kiss.
Each time he retreats. Reminds himself of the consequences, and tells her it would be unwise. He guards his heart, and remembers all that stands to be lost. He wanders the ways, searching for Wisdom, yet each time she is gone. Each time she is bound. Each time he thinks: I will go.
But his feet know the way back to Skyhold, and there is no world in which she does not meet him at the gate. He wraps what they have in friendship, and pulls away once more. Still. Something always draws him to her balcony, and maybe itâs that he means to say goodbye, yet there is no world in which the smallness of her voice can diminish the command:
It would be kinder in the long run, he knows it. But itâs because he knows it that he canât help think, this time will be different. So he stays. He remembers the steps of their first dance in Halamshiral, and revels in the heat of those early days. He knows Seraâs jokes by heart, but he lets her make them just the same.
Drop âem and rebuild the empire.
He smiles because itâs truer than sheâll ever know. There is no world in which Lavellan is not his vhenan, no world in which she refuses to join him in Crestwood. Sometimes he takes her hand in the cave, and sometimes he waits for her instead.
She always listens when he tells her the truth about the Dalish, and sometimes she even lets him cast the spell. In that fragile moment, she is so beautiful, and he remembers all the things that have happened before knows he as but one chance to ensure they never happen again.
And so there is no world in which he can spare the pain of their parting.
Because once, the very first time, he didnât. He told her, and she stayed. She stayed with him until the end, brought the veil down at his side, and slayed a thousand foes. She cast the spell, fired the arrow, swung the sword that brought Andruil down, and it should have been their victory.
But while FenâHarel trained his might on FalonâDin, Dirthamen slipped through the shadows.
It was a future darker than any Redcliffe, soaked in agony and blood, because the Evanuris were too smart to kill her. Far too self righteous for anything so quick. They kept her, collared her, and it was a long, cold, century before he broke down their defense.
Found her in a prison of his own making.
Not broken, but changed, and he thought her suffering more terrible than the creation of the veil, and what he wouldnât do to wash her blood from his hands.
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