#may trigger

He knew exactly where the change had started and he blamed her entirely for it.

Thema had come to him that night, more bottles of wine in hand, but she had seemed… scared, distant; the look in her eyes almost pleading for help. That look scared him as well, the word ‘no’ dancing on the edges of his tongue. Yet damn him, damn him to the Void and back, he couldn’t turn her away.

Solas had expected fear of the role she’d been thrust into, fear of the anchor. What he wasn’t expecting was her story, the answers to how she’d known who he was, what his plans were, and even the story of how she came to be here.

A shared dream with hundreds of thousands of others, a ‘global network of consciousness’ she called it,  all taking different paths through Thedas, each a different Inquisitor. The blood in his ears was like the blacksmith’s hammer when she said that they all knew the truth of him, that some wanted to kill him, that some would be very willing to join his armies. Half of the bottle of wine she’d given him had disappeared after that, his mind trying to wrap around the information she’d thrown down on the table. Her world must be more like Arlathan than he would have guessed.

Thema let him try and reconcile her words before launching into the second part of her tale. Her own meandering journey into this world.

There was a little backstory on her world, the lack of magic, what science was, that there was nothing but humans on the round rock called Earth. She had been one of them, a bit similar in looks to the body she wore now, but about as tall as him, with darker skin. Once she started on her life it all spilled out, the chaos of her family, running away from them, fighting in back alleys and throwing herself into drink and the beds of strangers.

That brought back quite a few memories of his own and they shared an awkward chuckle.

She had grown ill. Her arm had broken, and a trip to the healer had uncovered corruption in her bones, what she called ‘cancer’. It was advanced, and that callous man told her she had three weeks to live and left the white room. Solas tempered his anger, watching her face as her bottom lip quivered yet she tried to seem unaffected by the retelling. A second opinion was sought, from a kinder healer, but the verdict was the same: corruption of the bones and not long to live.

He would never forget the shaky breaths, the deep drain of wine and the barely concealed sobs as she forged further. This was not what he was expecting, that he would be the one she would tell this to – but who else could she tell? - and that he would react with emotion not as detached as their sex was. That he wanted to reach out a hand for her to hold, to steady her as she faced demons she hadn’t yet faced. He wanted to run form this but his feet wouldn’t move.

There were painkillers given to make the pain in her bones bearable and instead she had…

Bitter laughter wrapped around her words. ‘I can remember looking down at my body on that backwoods path, wondering what was going to happen now.’

When the Conclave had been destroyed and the Breach opened, it had reached her world as a tiny green speck. She had touched it, been consumed by it and thrown into the Fade. At her feet, the dying Lavellan, Divine Justinia trying to save the elf. Thema had stepped into the body just as the other left it, the flesh still alive but the shape all wrong.

Now he knew.

Now he knew why her spirit seemed to extend beyond her body, why it felt malignant and erratic. It didn’t belong here. Her spirit was trying to adapt to the new body, to the magic around it, and her spikes of anger, the arguing, the emotional instability made sense. Top that with the cherry of her death and rebirth, missing pieces of the puzzle fell into place. His curiosity was spiked, the anger over the bridge incident fading, and he felt more like himself, in control and seeking answers.

He could help, possibly having to do so without her consent, with the aid of the Fade. A spirit was a malleable thing, it could conform to situation and necessity like water filled a pitcher or a glass. A nudge and guidance were all it needed.

That night they had parted ways without touch or unkind words. She needed to rest, wobbling on her feet from alcohol and the release of memory, and he needed to search the Fade for answers and solutions.

That’s where the change had started.

He watched her, prodding from a distance with the knowledge he’d gleaned, molding like a gardener guided trees and plants into shape. Soft touches, trying not to change who she was, always keenly aware that a push too hard could either destroy or change her beyond recognition.

That constant observation also made him notice little things: her pointed ears hugged her head in a way that was considered unattractive but he liked it, she had freckles hiding in the tone of her skin, the way she walked that made her hips sway – even more exaggerated when she noticed him watching -, that she actually cared about the people around her. Thema could be found playing with the few children in Haven, curious in the way the town ran, and even though she was blunt and callous with little patience for idiots, she was willing to listen to those worth her time.

The more he noticed, the more he started to care.

They still fucked, of course, but the anger was gone now. Why they still continued was a mystery, perhaps because they were two strangers in the same world.

It was when he studied the marks on his body in the mirror of a stream that he really knew everything had changed. She left red curtains of nail marks on his shoulders and hips, bruises on his neck and shoulders from her teeth. They had never bothered him before, more badges of pride and pleasure in the little sparks of pain, but now he enjoyed wearing them. People could see them above the collar of his wrapped undershirt, and the growing ‘Inner Circle’ knew that they were having sex, something that had stopped bothering him quite a while ago.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning under his breath. The path had been tread too far to stop now, and he wouldn’t stop even given the choice. Something would need to change in their arrangement and soon.