Once inside his room, Elentari let out her breath all at once, rubbed her arms, and shivered again. Of course—the fabric of the dress was absurdly light; that was why the gemstones gave it structure, but not protection from the cold. Solas moved his hand, and the warmth inside the room rose immediately.
She looked at him.
- Thank you. - she murmured, still trembling, her lips still violet.
- You're welcome…
Silence stretched between them.
He noticed she did not look at him; instead, she had turned to inspect the room. She had done the same the first time. He saw Elentari's eyes linger on his bed, which this time was unmade. Solas inspected it too, but searching for traces of blood from the injuries earlier. Fortunately, he found none. Then he returned his attention to the young elf and saw her gently bite her lower lip, as if embarrassed for having come here. The gesture only made it clear that this sudden visit had been yet another of her impulses…
Solas inevitably confirmed that there were times when she acted purely on impulse, forgetting that she possessed a rational mind that should stop her before she did something foolish. The consequences of seeking him out were dangerous—especially for Elentari… because there was in him a tendency to destroy everyone who came too close. And she was beginning to trust him a great deal, even seemed to admire him. Solas had to protect her from the harm he could cause.
If only he were not her true adversary… right? Oh, the ironies of life were endless—and cruel…
- So… - Solas broke the silence, using a rather neutral tone. Elentari looked at him expectantly. - Are we going to pretend you didn't come here upset and dressed in a very strange way? What happened?
Elentari snorted and went straight to his bed with determination, dropped onto it, and quickly assumed a classic meditation posture, crossing her legs and grabbing the sheets to cover her bare skin. She huffed, struggled with the sheet for a moment, until she managed to cover herself. Solas could not help being keenly aware of how impertinent it was for her to move about so freely inside his room—especially choosing his bed to relieve her tension.
He crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the door. For some reason, he considered it wise to keep a certain distance between them. Why did he do it? Well, perhaps because tonight he wished to flee from himself, and he knew himself well enough to recognize when a situation pushed him to lower his guard, to allow himself dangerous decisions… out of sheer caprice. Fen'Harel was very capricious, and sometimes difficult to manage. But with her, he could not allow any of that. With her, he had to keep Solas in control, not the Wolf.
Elentari remained on his bed, visibly annoyed, but said nothing. She kept adjusting the sheet over her legs and continued grinding her teeth.
Once again, he had to break the silence.
- You're going to have to explain it to me. - he insisted. - There's no way I'll figure it out on my own.
- The truth is, I don't even know where to start… - she confessed, sounding defeated. Still, she would have to find a way, because now he wanted to know what was going on.
- How about you start at the beginning… as one usually does?
The provocation made her let out a dry laugh, full of disdain, and for the first time since she had burst in furious, she turned her attention to him.
Elentari watched him—but lingered a second too long. Maybe two. She traced his silhouette almost without realizing it. First she took him in as a whole, then let her attention climb over the width of his shoulders, over his body, before raising her gaze back to his face. She did not blush once during the process.
- Were you sleeping?
He shook his head twice.
- Were you lying down?
Now he nodded. She snorted.
- Oh, forgive me for being so inconvenient... - the tone sounded like a true plea. - I know I'm a nuisance to you… that I bother you all the time.
- Not all the time... - he replied with a half-smile meant to be friendly. She smiled back.
- So? - he insisted. - Tell me, Elentari… what brings you here?
He saw her make a face, one she usually made unconsciously when annoyed. He noticed her lips were reddish again. Good. Her body temperature must be within normal parameters.
- I just had a very unpleasant meeting with Lady Vivienne. - he heard her say. As soon as she pronounced that name, Solas let out a short, disdainful laugh. He had already met that woman—an elitist and arrogant racist, in his opinion.
He noticed Elentari looked at him for a moment, then widened her eyes and burst into laughter.
- Nooo… - she emphasized, clenching two fists in the sheet. - Have you already had the pleasure of offending her?
Solas kept his arrogant smile and simply defended himself.
- Offend her? Not at all. I simply had the pleasure of meeting her.
- What did you say to her?
- Nothing of interest. She was the one who confronted me with her prejudices and asked about my experiences and my condition as an apostate. I was simply forced to respond.
Elentari snorted with laughter, then fell back onto his bed. That drew a low, contained laugh from him, fully aware of how much she let her guard down in his presence and of how inappropriate the scene might look from the outside.
Thinking of that, and perhaps out of instinct for self-preservation, he felt the muscles in his arms subtly tense, reminding him he should remain standing, leaning against the door, keeping his distance. His mind was always one step ahead of his instincts in these situations, and he would not reproach himself for caution now.
- Oh, Solas… if only you'd been with me when Vivienne attacked me.
- You don't need me by your side to defend yourself. - he replied calmly. - What did that woman say to you?
Elentari stared at the ceiling. Solas saw her exhale deeply, slowly relaxing… He noticed the slow movement of her legs under the sheets, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed deeply, and then how she stretched her arms, settling in with careless familiarity… on his bed.
Like that, just as she was, he was the one beginning to feel uncomfortable. Why did she act as if none of this was inappropriate?
- Do you remember our last private conversation? - she resumed. - The one where you told me that the Herald of Andraste is actually a living narrative my advisors are trying to construct to gain the masses' acceptance and gather the power needed to face the Breach.
Yes, he remembered. That was the first time he had told her a truth from his own era. It had been an analogy with the Dread Wolf… he had been the narrative he built to avoid drowning in seas of guilt and remorse. Fen'Harel had been the narrative to oppose the false gods… Fen'Harel had been the emblem of his pride… a pride that now bled, seeing how his actions had only destroyed the magnificent elven empire.
- I remember - he confirmed soberly - ...because I said something I consider true.
- I know. - she replied, adjusting herself on the bed before continuing. - And I haven't stopped thinking about it since. About how certain shared narratives can become realities when enough people believe in them. Concepts, symbols… or even figures of worship. Like the Herald.
She looked back at the ceiling.
- When we talked about this… - Elen continued (Elen now? Was she "Elen" in his thoughts now?) - ...I understood how important it was to connect with the priestesses in Val Royeaux to grant legitimacy to the Inquisition. But you know how things ended there. Little was achieved.
Solas nodded, though "Elen" wasn't looking at him.
- I thought this meeting with the Duke of Ghislain would give me a chance to redeem myself, but I didn't do well there either, Solas… - she grumbled. - Vivienne made me see it. She asked which privileges I really serve. Those of the innocents… of the elves… or of the mages.
Big question…
- So which privileges do you serve, Elentari?
Apparently the question caught her off guard, because she turned her whole body toward him.
She lay on her side on the bed, her abdomen resting on the mattress, one leg bent, barely covered by the sheets. There was something involuntarily seductive in the way she occupied the space, as if that bed had always been hers. Solas kept iron control over his posture and expression, but he could not ignore the ease with which she moved in his room, nor the naturalness with which she used his intimacy. Nor the way he kept remarking on it again and again in his thoughts.
He decided to step out of his own mind. Perhaps at this moment it held greater dangers than "Elen" herself. The Wolf was sometimes too capricious… but Solas was not.
- The enchanter's question was a good one if it made you reflect. Which privileges do you serve?
- That was the point, Solas. - he heard her speak again, burying her face in the pillow and letting out a loud sigh. Then she stretched her neck and protested. - We're not serving my privileges, but the ones they want.
- Who are 'they'?
Elentari looked at him again.
- My advisors?
- I don't know. You tell me. You brought the topic up.
Unexpectedly, he saw her focus on her chest. Solas clenched his teeth and forced himself to find a reasonable explanation for the gesture. He assumed she was looking at her dress, because she kept glancing at herself. That attitude could not possibly be an insinuation of anything like what he was considering. Still, she was behaving very… sloppily.
- For example, this, Solas. - he heard her say irritably. She placed both forearms on the bed and arched her back, rotating slightly toward him so he could see the tight dress pressing against her neckline.
All right—"this"—what did that have to do with him? But before he could ask, she answered herself.
- Do you know why I'm dressed in this ridiculous way?
- No.
- Leliana advised me to!
- Ah, yes? - he replied, keeping his tone neutral. - And tell me, what result did you get from it?
- None! - she raised her voice and looked at him. - Feeling like an idiot…
She sat up on the edge of the bed, let her legs dangle, the fabric of the dress sliding down and revealing her slender legs. This time she didn't try to cover herself.
- And, - she added with undisguised annoyance - at the castle meeting where I ran into Lady Vivienne, the shemlen looked at me in a disgusting way… as if this... - she shook the skirt, exposing much more skin - were an invitation for them to inspect me…
It was difficult not to see her the way the shemlen had.
- And of course - she continued, he felt tempted to laugh but restrained himself—this was serious for her... - of course dressing like an 'elven princess' also managed to annoy Vivienne! And now she hates me.
Solas couldn't get over his amazement. She was outraged by the situation, but the most pressing question was—how had she not seen it coming? Leliana had given her the recipe for disaster!
- The thing is, Elentari, that it should have bothered you first, before anyone else. - he said with his characteristic bluntness.
She looked at him, accepting his words.
He was obviously right. Solas continued. - You should have anticipated the error Leliana proposed. Nothing good was going to come from that idea. Presenting yourself as an elven 'princess' is as much an insult to our race as to humans.
- I know. I know—but only now - she admitted. - But tell me, why would I even do something like that? Aren't I the living narrative of what they're trying to build?
- Indeed, and Leliana will have her hidden intentions. But this time, let me tell you—you were foolish not to anticipate the consequences of this act. You are intelligent, I know that. You have the ability to foresee error. Yet you yielded. Perhaps it was overconfidence.
- I feel like an idiot.
- It wasn't serious. - he corrected gently. - As for Vivienne, her opinion won't be especially relevant for us in the long term. As for the rest… - he paused. - The impact of the Herald of Andraste appearing before Orlesian nobles as a powerful elf, defying the image they expect of you, will be strong. But we're still in time to counter it.
Elentari fell silent. A second later, the weight seemed to fall on her—she suddenly huffed, leaned forward, rested her elbows on her thighs, and buried her face in her hands, accompanying the gesture with audible groans. Her loose hair hid her even more.
- I'm not intelligent, Solas. I'm an idiooot.
- You're not. - he replied softly. - You're naïve. That's all.
- No… - she complained, still hidden, shaking her head. The tone of her voice once again sounded like a tantrum. - I'm an idiot.
Then she pulled her hands from her face and lifted her head, shaking the curtain of messy dark hair. Her cheeks were slightly flushed—not from embarrassment, but from anger.
- Solas! Do you know why I'm an idiot?
He simply shook his head.
- Because you're right… - she buried her head again, grabbing her hair and speaking like a girl lamenting. - Can I confess something?
- Go on… - he teased, though his neutral tone hid it from her.
Then Elentari whispered very slowly, so quietly he could barely hear her.
- It's the first time I've ever gone to a meeting like that… I simply had no idea what I should or shouldn't do… I've never been to a ball. Or whatever that was…
Her confession stirred a slight resentment in him.
She was right. She was a Dalish elf. Of course she'd never mingled among nobles! What had Leliana been thinking, doing this to her?
- More evidence in my favor. - he said. She lifted her gaze to him, still holding her head. - You're not an idiot. You weren't prepared, Elentari.
- That doesn't comfort me, you know? I've already made a fool of myself in front of all those despicable shemlen.
- Well, that's undeniable. - he teased, openly mocking this time. She forced a smile, but she was frustrated.
- Can I tell you something else that will make me look like an idiot in front of you… too?
He nodded. She blushed, but bravely shared it anyway.
- I didn't even know the proper way to address each person in that room, you know? I tried to listen to everyone while they spoke so I could say it properly, but I didn't always manage it. - Now her eyes shone as well. She was sad. She hid her head between her thighs again. - I'm not intelligent.
He didn't rationalize the origin of his gesture. Suddenly, he found himself moving toward her, kneeling in front of the heroine of these times. Solas knelt and rested his hand on the bed, right beside her bare thigh. Elentari looked up and didn't seem uncomfortable with his closeness.
- I'll tell you something… - he murmured. - I can explain these things to you, if you want. - She said nothing. - You're not an idiot, and you don't lack intelligence. Quite the opposite. - He saw her clench her jaw, her eyes still shining.
- Lady Vivienne killed a man with ice… - she whispered very softly, tears now gathering, threatening to spill. - She asked me if she should kill him for the offense and I said yes because I felt so… - the tears fell. - Oh, Solas. I said yes and she killed him. - She sobbed once, then wiped the tears away roughly. - Sorry.
- It's all right…
- That's exactly it, Solas… 'it's not all right'… - she looked away, her lips trembling, but forced herself to speak. - It's not enough that I didn't intend it when my actions had such a strong impact as the death of a person…
He didn't know how to comfort her without bridging into intimacy. All he could do was guide her through learning. The best he could give her was knowledge—that was the strongest weapon of all.
- Let me tell you something, Elentari… - he murmured. She looked at him, another tear slid, and this time she didn't hide it. - Very rarely is telling the truth about something… or someone… the most effective way to impose order among many people. Most of the time, fiction is far more efficient.
She frowned, confused. Expected—he wasn't done.
- When it comes to uniting people, fiction has two advantages truth does not. - he continued. - First, fiction can be simplified as much as necessary. Truth, on the other hand, is usually complex—because the reality it describes is complex too.
- And the second? - she asked softly.
- That truth is often painful and unsettling. - he replied. - And the moment we try to make it comforting… it stops being truth. If you want to live with the truth, you must learn to live with pain.
Elentari watched him intently.
- Is that why you're so brutal when you point out things I hadn't seen before? - she whispered.
- Am I brutal to you?
- Sometimes…
How could he explain the hidden motivations behind Orlesian mask games without making her suspicious? How could he share his knowledge without her finally asking why he knew so much?
- But I prefer the truth, Solas. - she said, wiping her last tear. - Even when it's brutal. I'd rather you tell me things as they are, and have the chance to decide for myself, without lies.
Those words struck him forcefully. Because the truth he could offer her—the only one—was terrifying. Far more than he was willing to accept.
Solas swallowed and immediately composed himself.
- Strict fidelity to truth is not a winning political strategy. - he stated, stepping back to a safe distance. He moved away from her. - And allow me to add something—Lady Vivienne, Leliana, and Josephine are fully aware of that.
- You too. - she pointed out.
- And now, you too…
He wanted to protect her, guide her, let her see what everyone around her saw—and deliberately did not warn her about. For now, the Herald was nothing more than a piece on everyone's board (him included). And though it was foolish even for his own game, he wanted to tear the blindfold from her eyes.
- Elentari… - he continued. - Telling a fictional story is only lying when what one intends is for that story to be a faithful representation of reality. - He spoke calmly, but not lightly. - Anyone with political skill knows this. A story is not a lie when it does not seek to describe reality as it is, but when it assumes it seeks to create a new shared reality. And that… your advisors understand very well.
- Are they using me? - she asked softly.
Solas shook his head slightly.
- No. That is how an organization is built. An identity. That is how the masses move. It is the inevitable game of collective manipulation.
- So for them, am I a game?
Solas shook his head again. Not only for them. For him too. Or at least, he should treat her as such.
- They don't know you, Elentari. That's all. When they do, they won't play with a piece, but alongside a strategist. As long as you're aware of these truths, you'll be able to act deliberately within the Inquisition. - He looked at her seriously. - Think for yourself. That's all I want by telling you this.
Elentari breathed deeply, as if something finally clicked. She moistened her lips, hesitant.
- Solas… - she whispered.
He looked at her in silence.
- If telling a fictional story isn't lying, but building a new reality… - she asked - what story are you building?
For the first time in the whole conversation, Solas felt ashamed. He gently clenched his jaw, and in that small gesture everything came crashing down—because the story he was building was written on a path of death. And he was ashamed to admit what he had become… and that she would be one more of his victims.
The certainty pierced him like a brutal stitch.
"The Vir'abelasan has begun to murmur. Someone has been listening."
By all the heavens—Corypheus was seeking the ancient knowledge of Great Mythal. He was searching for her Sacred Temple and already possessed the power of his Orb. He could find it. He could not allow it. He could not. He could not.
Fen'Harel was necessary—even in Thedas.
- I'm not building any story. - the Dread Wolf replied. - I'm only sharing my point of view with you.
I do not build, Elentari. I destroy stories. And I will destroy yours too, Herald… I will destroy yours as well.