Fen'Harel Enaste

The evening went on with his story and many days after that when quests were finished and all was settled in Haven Katelyn would go to Solas for more stories. The Elvhen and the Fade being the most prominent subjects but either way she listened intently to every single one with some making her heart leap in joy while others made her stifle tears.

"The Dalish do not know much themselves," Solas confided in her, "But I will teach you what I can. In fact, I would be delighted. You have shown yourself to be understanding of the suffering of my people..." 

He frowned, “You had your reasons, Solas. I don’t know how the Dalish ended up painting you as a bad person, but… You have your reasons to be upset with us.” Slowly, he reached out to lay a hand on Solas’ shoulder—a gesture of comfort and understanding.

"Would you like my assistance?" 

"Solas? /Solas/?" Her voice is panicked as she wakes, jerking up, pain shooting up her arm as she untangles her hand from the blankets to look at her glowing palm.

But for a mortal, the condition of the immortal was terrifying. The Anchor was not meant to occupy the body of a mortal. She should have died, but the Anchor had saved her. So often, she should have died. Something about her body was wrong, and it showed in her dreams.

Stay.

"Solas? /Solas/?" Her voice is panicked as she wakes, jerking up, pain shooting up her arm as she untangles her hand from the blankets to look at her glowing palm.

The gentle hand in her hair and the arms around her body did serve to calm her shaking, to banish the panic from her mind. Gradually, the memories of the dream faded and the pain of her arm fell away. She listened to the pounding of his heart and mirrored her breathing to his, drawing her knees to her chest to curl against him.

Solas didn't want to let her ago, to lose the warmth of her body. Selfishly, he held on, his own breathing calming down. It was seldom he had nightmares -- For Eravirelan nightmares were something else entirely-- but to see her so shaken...

"As if simply being a mage means you’re filled with hundreds of demons and simply speaking can set them on someone. Varric told me about a Qunari mage he met in Kirkwall with his friend Hawke over drinks one night. The ones that came looking for him acted like simply hearing him speak meant they were all instantly possessed by demons and tried to kill them.” He shook his head.

"That... From hearing them speak? Ludicrous. Even the darker spirits need permission to possess bodies. It's not as if they can go about possessing whomever they wish without permission. To be that utterly ignorant of magic... I cannot possibly imagine."

"Solas? /Solas/?" Her voice is panicked as she wakes, jerking up, pain shooting up her arm as she untangles her hand from the blankets to look at her glowing palm.

Death did not frighten her. The prospect of an end did not paralyze her. Infection, disease, consumption, possession — these terrified her. The idea of her mark conquering her, leaving her powerless, changing her into something else. Robbing her from Solas. Tightening her fist to hide the mark, though the light still seeped between her fingers, Enelya dug into his embrace, clinging to his shoulders. She rubbed her face into his shoulder, wiping her tears on his skin.

Solas held her close, could feel his heart hammering in his chest still, wanted to take away her anxiety into his own body and clam her fears. Closing his eyes, he did his best to comfort her. 

Tarathiel sat up in an instant, a look of confusion in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed anything like that—even if I’ve been taught the wrong thing for most of my life.” He pushed himself to his feet.

"Do you remember what I said about a god having no need to prove himself? I failed at that qualification long ago," Solas' eyes scanned the other man's face for a moment, but he let himself relax; he didn't want to be seen as a threat. Not now, at any rate. 

"Solas? /Solas/?" Her voice is panicked as she wakes, jerking up, pain shooting up her arm as she untangles her hand from the blankets to look at her glowing palm.

The dream haunted her wakefulness, the scorching pain from the Fade lingering in her arm. Tears bubbled at her eyes as her breathe came quickly, even as Solas crushed her to his chest. She stared at her shaking hand, the stable, unmoving mark piercing the skin.

"Then I will do anything in my power to find a way to save you. I will... I will defeat Corypheus on my own and take the Orb back from him if it means saving you. ANything, ma vhenan. You are my world..."

"Tell me all of them then, I grow tired of my duties for the day and wish to enjoy myself for a time. I have seen so little of the world that all you share will seem wondrous to me Solas." Allowing herself to laugh the snow about her flurried in time with her joy until it at last settled upon the ice as well.

"The Elvhen..." he muttered, and his eyes were far away, far beyond the dark ice and the swirling snow and the human mage, looking toward a different time when things had been different. 

"Solas? /Solas/?" Her voice is panicked as she wakes, jerking up, pain shooting up her arm as she untangles her hand from the blankets to look at her glowing palm.

Her dreams were aggressive, rampant, terrifying. They plagued her mind and made her shake, her eyes glued to her hand. “The Anchor spread, and it moved up my arm, and consumed half my body, and my eyes, and my mind, and—”

He ran his hands through her hair but did not sense the Mark spreading. It was responding to her fear. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he pulled her close and wrapped her in his arms. 

The elf stiffened at the question, slowly turning his head back to Solas. His eyes were huge—full of confusion, doubt and a small amount of fear. He jumped to his feet and stumbled backwards, toppling over the splintered remains of an aravel and onto his backside with a clumsy yelp.

Solas heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. "I don't... I won't hurt you, Tarathiel. I am not a heartless, soulless monster and I do not strike people down for speaking to me. If you wanted a god full of anger and vengeance, you would have to address Elgar'Nan, but he is beyond your reach at the current time." 

Yes, and I can honestly see why he and Vivienne don’t get along. Personally, I’m not all that massive a fan of her. I think Dorian really only gets along with her as well as he does because they’ve both had privileged lives and she’s the only one who really “gets” his frustration with the lack of the trappings of a noble’s life that he’d been used to until joining the Inquisition. Just my opinion, though.

Solas isn't anything like Anders, but I guess that's possible. I know it bothers Varric that Solas likes spirits so much, probably because of Justice, and that's why Varric wants Cole to be human. Varric's opinions of Cole really bother me, but that's a discussion for another day. Solas wouldn't have blown up the Chantry because that was a terrible solution to a problem that could have been solved with cloak and dagger lies and diplomacy, which is SOlas' specialty anyway. I can see why Varric would feel that way on the surface, though.