He should not be doing this.

Solas closes the door to Keela's suite and takes a moment's rest against its hard surface. He can still taste her kiss on his lips, smell her scent on his skin. He let himself be overwhelmed by the history of this place, swayed by the demanding heat always gleaming in her Fade touched gaze.

It is foolish to continue, but he will allow this one night of selfishness. She deserves to see the true splendor of Halamshiral and he finds himself eager to watch her face light up wonderment. Solas moves across the smooth tiles towards his own rooms, slipping through shadows and unnoticed by wandering nobles. His accommodations are not as spectacular as Keela's, and he suspects even less so than the other companions, but they suit his purposes well enough. He takes a few moments to cast aside his outer shell of clothing before slipping inside the soft sheets.

The Elvhen of the past float through the hallways like shimmering clouds, but she is the brightest beacon in the midst of it all. He can't help lose himself in her light, a swirling aura of yellow and green just like the beauty of her eyes. Never did he think to find its kind in this new, shattered world.

Solas reaches his power out into the Fade, pulling strings of memory into a collective weave of thought. The fog around him thickens to form a grand palace so unlike the current one in which they slumber. It is made of stone and wood, great trees bending to form a continuous arch down the lengthy space. Petals of rose and gold grace elegant limbs as luminescent spheres of magic hover above and bathe the hall in ethereal light.

Statues to the gods sit at the base of the trees, fearsome dragons, valiant hawks and noble owls. Even a cunning wolf. Elves of the Dales, resplendent in radiant regalia, twirl across a vast dance floor or sample from tables overrun with succulent food and flowing wine. Laughter and song float above and mix to create a melody that pleases the ears and the soul.

All of it pales in comparison to her.

Keela stands facing away as she takes in the marvels of the past. From the Fade, Solas drapes her in royal finery befitting this time. A green dress the color of the Emerald Graves hugs every curve except for the expanse of her back. Golden chains loop across the naked skin down to the small of her back and glimmer with every breath she takes. She is exquisite with her hair pulled into a low, twisting bun to the side and streams of blue and green crystal jewelry weaving between the raven strands.

"Welcome to Halamshiral," he says into her ear. Her wide eyes turn to him and a little gasp escapes from painted lips. He wears a matching overcoat with a high collar, similar to the current robes of a Keeper, and gold and black attire beneath. Once upon a time, he was careful and considerate about his appearance for it was vital towards his station. It matters little now in the face of all his worries, but he can't help feel a bloom of warmth as she takes him in, her gaze heavy with hunger.

"Solas, you look..." Her face lights up with a smile, a rare type he has come to cherish for he knows it blooms more so for him. "If they ever existed, I don't think even the elven gods could look as powerful as you do now."

Solas shakes his head, never lost to the irony of her innocent statements, and wraps long fingers around her shoulders. "If there are to be any claims towards divinity, they are to be reverent prayers in your honor."

Gently he turns her to face a mirror. "Oh," she breathes out, awed by her image. "It's beautiful. How did you...?"

"It is no small feat to shape the Fade towards your desires, but every somniari is capable of it with enough training." His hand trails down her arm and feels her shiver beneath the touch. Grabbing onto her hand, he turns the palm up in the cradle of his grasp. He calls to the anchor, his power, although no longer just his, and the mark pulses in time with the music floating through the air. Green light dances like fire above her skin and he can see the flecks of the Fade sparkling within her eyes in the reflection.

"The dreams of the People burn bright here, barely weathered by time and the sorrow of more recent years. Their souls still sing with valiant victories and hopes for a future more glorious than Arlathan. Few are the places where you can hear the heartbeat of the Elvhen with such certainty. Can you feel it pounding within your breast?"

"Yes," she whispers, captivated by the way the mark swirls. Solas moves his hand over hers, lacing their fingers together, and the anchor sends ribbons of familiar power flashing up his arm.

"Come."

He takes her to the middle of the dance floor amongst spirits and wisps of memory. At first, Keela at the unknown steps, but her clever eyes memorize his lead. Their movements are full of long, sweeping strides and quick bursts of limbs tangling like lines of ivy. When they circle the ballroom again, her feet find the rhythm and she laughs, amazement crinkling her eyes.

"Is there nothing you can't do?" she asks as he twirls her away.

"Like with so many things, it is made easier with the right partner," he replies as he pulls her back. Keela clings to him, slowing their steps even as the music swells. She lifts her face up and he is drawn into her kiss, as inescapable as gravity. Her lips leave fluttering touches against his, soft and sweet, made sweeter by the taste of her warm smile.

"And things are always easier in the Fade," she says, teasing. Keela steps out of his embrace but leaves their fingers intertwined as she guides him from the dance floor. Solas follows as she scours every inch of the formidable hall with eyes starving for its ancient insights. Constant are her questions, her caresses against every surface available. He answers with equal enthusiasm, forever astounded by her never ending curiosity.

Eventually her fingers follow the gentle sloping back of the Dread Wolf's statue and come to rest beneath its muzzle, as if she would scratch the god's chin like it is a playful hound.

"Is this accurate? They put statues of Fen'Harel in equal footing with the other gods?"

"It would appear so," he says, but wonders about it himself. He has witnessed what the Elvhen did to his temples and symbols after the fall of Arlathan. They bore him no love, the god that brought deliverance only to abandon them to a broken world soon after. Yet the elves of Halamshiral revered the wolf, charged into battle with loyal lupine companions, and placed statues in their honor throughout the forests and plains.

Keela hums in thought at his side and gives the statue a gentle pat before her gaze finds something else to latch onto. She drags him towards a gilded window, one of many lining the walls, and tries to see into the world beyond. There is nothing but darkness, swirling mists of green and gray, and Solas tries not to laugh at the disappointment pulling her lips down.

"I am sorry, but there are limits to how much one can manipulate the Fade no matter their talents or knowledge. Do you wish to see more of the city?"

"You know I do, if you are willing to show me."

"I once told you that I would not trade walking through centuries old dreams and memories for anything this world could offer, but to see your happiness at such sights is a much greater vision than all I have witnessed before."

Keela grasps onto the stiff collar of his robe and tugs him nearer. "Sweet talker, indeed."

A figure appears in the corner of his eye before the moment can shift into something more. They both turn to find an elf from the court, but Solas knows its true nature. It is a spirit reveling in the memories and magic of this place, no doubt captivated especially by Keela's blazing presence. It bows with flourish, hand held out to his lover. She looks at him, raising an eyebrow in silent questioning.

"It is safe, if you wish it."

"How could I resist?"

Keela accepts the offered hand and is swept away. Solas watches her swirl beneath the glory of old Halamshiral. Like with everything, she has mastered the steps in so little time with her keen mind and he feels a selfish burst of pride in her. Spirits pause to follow her movements or swarm around her like jubilant moths basking in the purest light. The Fade trembles and sighs with pleasure in such a way he has never experienced.

Solas wishes to give her this in the flesh, a place where she is a bonfire not for spirits and shadows, but for the Elvhen, where their people are made whole and vibrant under her guidance. If there is a time she truly belongs to it is here, when they were free and wild, yet possessed purpose and grace lost when their new homeland fell.

He tells her so as she stumbles back into his arms, drunk on laughter and spilling over with joy. Keela shakes her head, her fingers splaying out across his jawline. "No. I belong right where I am, with you."

"Vhenan…" I am not what you believe me to be, he wants to say. The words are on his tongue, thick with his desire to unburden himself of this weight. He knows she will accept his truths and that always gives him pause for he does not deserve her understanding. He does not deserve it but he wants it. Not even amongst his own kin has he ever felt more himself. He exists across the worlds, but in her embrace is where he wishes to belong.

"I-" I am the Dread Wolf, the terror that stalks the dreams of your people. I am the reason they wither in the shadows of shemlen and I would see this nightmare end. I set out to restore the Elvhen no matter the cost, but I would put my cause aside for you. You have captured a god and I would gladly shed my skin to be a mortal by your side.

Keela tilts her head, eyes narrowing at his loss for words. "Solas?"

He answers her the only way he can, pressing a kiss against her lips to seal the truth away. It is desperate with all the things left unsaid, all the ways he loves her, and all the pleas for forgiveness he will mostly likely never get to make. Keela sinks closer, the heat of her skin banishing away his darker thoughts with every caress. Her fingers gripping tight to the fabric at his back ground him to the present and chase away the lingering ghosts of the past. The way she sighs against his mouth breathes life into his weary, old soul.

"Solas," she says again, this time in whispered affection.

No. I am Fen'Harel and there is no place for us, but I cannot leave you just yet.