They found refuge with the Orlesian guard.

Alerted to the sounds of battle, the soldiers had come in a blaze of justice much too late for any help.

Still, Solas was thankful.

They were brought to the city barracks after questioning and their Commander was more than willing to help the Herald of Andraste rest and settle the confusion.

Ellana had taken on any eerie coherence of calm observance and Solas was quick to begin using the resources given to them and the small space in the soldier's quarters to tend to her leg.

They didn't talk, but she didn't fall asleep either.

His anger had spiked behind his quiet visage when he learned of her drugged skin, but he had to admit it made his job easier.

She felt nothing of his fingers in her torn flesh or the removal of the tiny dangerous shards of bone from her injury.

While a few soldiers hovered around them to bring bandages and poultice—Solas let no one else touch her. He himself eased magic through her skin and stitched her flesh. He alone drew together the splint for her calf and wrapped the bandages carefully.

It took an hour, maybe more, maybe less. His magic was still restless when he finished. He had been on alert since the first barrier cast in the Heartlands before the fight with demons and now he was boiling with it. He had taken so much of it from those in the Chateau, their deaths sparks of hot ready spells he had not fully absorbed yet.

He had just finished wrapping Ellana's leg when the Commander appeared once more.

As it happened, Cassandra's letter had been intercepted, as the body he had murdered back at the chateau was not Aradeau after all. Especially since Aradeau the Lord had been dead for years and Grand Advisor Aradeau was a widow living across the city.

The details mattered little to him now, but the Commander had already informed the real Aradeau, who was sending for them to offer proper hospitality.

He bent over her when the soldiers left, a hand brushing across her forehead to smooth the dampness there.

Her eyes blinked at him, awake and lips weakly twitching in a smile.

Her eyes were so tired. He had never seen them like this, with drawn circles set in a pallor face. Even her hair was mussed and knotted, everything covered in specks of blood and demon ichor. It was hard not to bring his fingers to her, to straighten everything back in its proper place, in the ways he had memorized her.

And yet in some strange light, she was exquisite like this. Scarred and beaten beyond belief, but that soft smile she always gave him still present.

And despite the slow wavering flicker that was her mana, her spirit was still strong.

Before they left, Solas insisted on sending a raven back to Cassandra at Fort Revasan to alert her of their arrival and estimate how long it would take to return. He added a few details on the Venatori ambush, but said nothing of the Rift they had closed on the way, knowing the Seeker would simply disapprove and fret.

The ride to the Chateau was thankfully short and the Grand Advisor thankfully kind.

The woman wore no mask when she accepted them into her home, a show of faith and assurance. She was an older widow, with full grey hair and a thin lipped smile. She explained her connections to Cassandra, and her Elvhen servants let them have a wide berth.

Solas was happy to see portraits and clean furniture everywhere, a well lived in home.

He sensed no trickery this time and while he was relieved his caution kept Ellana strictly in his own arms alone.

The trip seemed to have awakened Ellana a bit more from her lulled state as well, eyes flickering about the corners of the room and over the faces of the servants.

He didn't miss the soft paranoid squeezing of her fingers on his shoulders.

"I had a bath drawn and a room made for you Inquisitor, I'll lead you to them and then your companion to hi—"

"No." The word was sharp and reverberated, having been snapped by both Ellana and Solas.

The Inquisitor's face flushed, eyes avoiding his as she continued. "That's very kind… but we would prefer a room… together."

There was a strange pause between everyone through the room, the nature of the request a little scandalous. The quiet whispers from the elf maids behind them signaled as much.

Aradeau was courteous however, baring her hands and a small smile. "Of course. Please, follow me."

Solas said nothing, had she not insisted, he would have.

"I'm sorry, I didn't even ask." She murmured to him later. The words were spoken to his chest as he set her carefully down to one foot on the cold floors of their private bathroom.

"It's alright—"

"With everything that's happened I only fig—"

"Ellana." He smiled, stilling her worried expression with a look. "It's alright. I prefer it."

Her hands slid down his shoulders, steadying herself, the broken leg popped behind her. He ignored the sensation and helped her stand on her own, eventually releasing her.

"I do not think I saved face with the Orlesians though. Josephine will have to squash rumors."

"If they are not smart enough to understand our measures of safety then let them add it up to Elvhen oddity."

She chuckled, swaying with unbalanced hands at her laughter. Her shadows flickered on the painted wallpaper from the lanterns along the room. He was happy to see the laudanum gone from her countenance.

They had both seemed to reach a strange alertness despite having finally found refuge. Perhaps it was because they had been fighting exhaustion off for so long that now it was simply absent. Or perhaps it was the wait for something else to go wrong.

Solas absently rubbed at his chin, looking over the bathroom in thought. He paced towards the water in the ornate tub in the center of the room. He watched the steam rise before flickering his gaze over Ellana's body.

The lines of her muscles were hidden under ruined clothes. Her feet were dirty and her trousers torn loose, the pant about her broken leg nearly gone completely. Her armor and belts were coated in dirt and blood, keeping it compacted against her hidden skin. He could spot the remains of demons splashed on her hands and the ends of her hair.

She was an open book of their battles.

Not to mention that leg.

When his eyes found hers again, he discovered stained cheeks.

"I'll be alright on my own." She said.

He smiled wide at her, turning from her to collect the dry linens and washcloths from a nearby counter, thoughtfully left for them. "You honestly believe that one?" He asked over his shoulder, watching her face.

Her lips tried not to move, her face pressing into a forceful frown. A terrible liar, she always was. "I could at least try."

"No."

She sighed but didn't protest. Awake as she was now, she seemed too exhausted for arguing with him. Defeated perhaps, by her obvious inability and the day's mistakes.

He returned to her, dropping the fabrics by the porcelain and looking over her downward gaze.

"Would you mind it, da'len?" He made sure to call her da'len.

Solas didn't have to ask it exactly, he could tell she knew what he meant by the growing redness through the length of her ears. She made a breathy noise, a sound that mimicked the feel that spread through his spine as he watched the pink blush curl about her ear to her nape.

She didn't say anything, but she turned her bright eyes up to him and shook her head, giving him permission.

He held her gaze, a quiet understanding passing between them. They were battle companions before anything else and she trusted him as that.

And this needed to be done.

He forced his mind on other things when he stepped forward, hands rising to slide beneath the shoulders of her outer jacket. She bent with him, shoulders twisted and fingers clutching his arms for balance. He helped her shrug off the material, dropping it to the floor with a quiet rustle.

His hands were on her again dipping through the strands of her hair to find the shoulder strappings of her pauldrons.

Solas forbid himself from looking at the soft concave curves of her cheeks, or the embarrassed and infectious smile peeking at the corner of her lips. She needed tending to and she had turned away the servants in favor of him.

He owed her his fortitude, not his distraction.

The pauldrons hit the floor, and he slipped slightly when his fingers began unbuttoning the clasps of her collar.

"Oh-" She swallowed, he felt it on his knuckles. "I can do this if you'll do my legs?"

"Ah. Yes." He nodded, letting her go and chiding himself. He went to his knees, hands reaching for her leg.

She yelped loudly when his fingers wrapped about her calf, going unsteady and falling onto him.

He hands found his shoulder and he steadied her quickly, listening to her laugh echo off the walls and unable to resist looking up to share her smile.

"Sorry! I just—I'm not used to—"

His fingers clenched her calf.

"HAH! Solas!" She jerked, head throwing back and hands trying desperately to keep herself balanced. "Please—no—"

He chuckled loudly. "You cannot give that reaction and not expect me to indulge!"

"Don't!" She demanded, but her eyes were gleaming, body tense with excitement. "That's the only leg left now."

"So it is. I suppose it would be foolish to render you completely useless." He nodded, her fingers easing from him. It was ridiculous for him to have done it, but he delighted in her mirth, unexpected as it was after the trying day.

He was careful to avoid startling her again as he began un-wrapping the ties to her leg bindings. The Elvhen weave was familiar to him, and he tried to refocus himself with the motion.

It was hard when he heard the clinking latches of her tunic giving away above him.

When he finished, her light gloves hit the ground and her tunic slithered to her hips.

He kept his eyes on the discarded clothes as he stood once more, listening rather than watching her unclasp her belt and letting it clatter to the floor.

"My leg is getting a bit tired…" She said, the words distanced by her down-turned head, watching her own hands as she unlaced the top of her trousers.

He went to her, hands coaxing her to rest her forehead on his chest as she worked. The simple gesture relaxed her unstable feet and gave him the chance to look her over without her knowing.

Her skin was chilled beneath his hands, shoulders a little shaky and goosebumps scattered across her flesh.

Solas let himself exhale softly; watching in fascination as her tunic slowly reached the floor, loosened and exposing her back. It curved softly, a sheet of satin over marble. Her muscles appeared only when she moved, waves of strength breaking the even surface of skin. Elvhen weave encircled her from breast to waist, a simple tight garment to keep her bound, and thankfully decent.

He loved the sight of her immediately.

But he tightened his lips, keeping his eyes on only her face when she straightened away from him to tug her pants off her hips. She must have been terribly embarrassed with the way her red blush spread down her shoulders like paint in water.

She struggled, eyes glancing at him before looking away. Her hair dusted messily along her forehead and her lips tugged in a desperately awkward smile.

And suddenly this was very, very hard to resist.

It all looked too real. Too raw.

A timid woman trying to hide her smile and blush as she undressed before him. She was right there, just shy of his height. Just shy of a kiss. Pants caught on her thighs, clad only in her wrapped undergarments; she was the picture of a first experience.

This is what she would like before a lover, excited and nervous, curious but restraining herself.

Something intimate and warm swelled in him. It rose like the steam of the tub to his face.

"Solas… could you help? My leg—"

Her leg. Her broken, shattered leg.

His fingers fisted and un-fisted, eyes narrowing. "Of course, I apologize."

Remembering that her worsened state was his fault made it easier to ignore the plush give of her thighs beneath his fingers as he pulled her pants down to her knees. He reminded himself of her ragged and crying face beneath the Venatori when he pulled one leg out and then the other. He thought of the hard recovery she would have in the morning when her hands accidentally brushed his ear as she balanced.

He was a fool, he reminded. An old hahren to her, a mentor, a guide. This was survival now, not seduction.

Left only in her small clothes, Solas tried to stare at her wrapped up and stilted leg instead of her exposed skin.

But then she spoke and he was distracted by the dimple on her hips when she breathed and the fluttering appearance of her ribs. "Ah... I think—this should be fine."

He caught her eyes, nervous and avoiding as her arms crossed to cover her stomach. Yes, yes it should be.

"Come on then." Da'len, he reminded himself. Inquisitor. Herald.

He took her arms in his, aiding her awkward movements toward the tub.

When he lifted her, his eyes caught a raised scar along her back, above the dip of her hips. It was odd; wide and long with broken streaks. As if someone had taken one of his larger paintbrushes, dipped in lighter shades of her skin, and dragged the broken bristles upward.

It sank away to the water when she lowered herself.

She let out a bit of a gasp.

"Too hot?"

"No—just—not quite ready!" She laughed.

The water took away the sight of her and he nearly sighed in relief. He took his time gathering washing items for her, towels and bottles, lining them along a stool by the side of the tub. When he had his bearings back, he returned to kneel near the end of the bathtub, by her legs.

"You don't have to stay Solas."

"I'm afraid I do." His hands reached into the warm waters, sleeves growing heavy as he sought her broken leg and raised it to the surface.

Her hands gripped the side as she moved; watching him curiously as he tested the now wet bandages and wiggled the stilt.

"It doesn't hurt."

Of course it didn't. His heavy spells had made sure it wouldn't. It needed healing, but that could come tomorrow after she was given some relief. Still, it would need to be dressed yet again after her bath and the water would be good for the wound. He began unwrapping, glancing up to find her watching.

"It won't be pleasant to see."

She laughed. "Have you seen the rest of me today?"

His eyes softened a smirk appearing. "I have lethallan, which is why I warn you."

Her smile filtered down to a soft parting of lips, her face moist and red. She hummed pleasantly at his comment, dipping her chin to the water.

He tried to lecture himself for the slip, but could do nothing but smile, her reaction having loosened him. A heat of pride laced through his mind despite his better judgment.

She washed her body and hair as he freed her leg; both of them quiet save for the shifting sounds of the water. It gave him time to analyze the swelling of her calf. And himself.

This… infatuation was becoming a hindrance. At first it had been lingering thoughts, ones easily excused, for who would not have such thoughts cross their minds at the sight of such attraction?

She was a beautiful woman, which was not something hard to admit.

He had no shame in knowing that, no man should.

But, now his cares had grown… attached. A fickle weakness. He was dallying with her because she was kind, because she was curious.

And, oh- the curiosity. That quiet patience and persistent questioning nature was undoing him. She was picking at his defenses with the gentleness of a breeze, drawing him in only to lock him tightly in place with the strength of her spirit.

She was new. A surprising puzzle he had not expected from the tired misplaced teachings of the Dalish. That was all. Surely he had similar excitement when crossing a glaring new memory of the Fade, or a new spirit with engaging stories to show him.

But…

He glanced at her, hands pressing on her warm skin in the water. He watched her neck lean backward to dip her hair, the muscles of her throat casting shadows as it moved with her easy breathing. Pearls of water slid along secret pathways of her neck to the shallow of her breast.

He felt her body tighten at the movement, even her broken leg contracted, toes pointing instinctively.

It was a carnal thing then. Something primitive and expected. He had been alone, asleep for so long—and he was still a man, not above recklessness and mistakes as he should be.

No.

It was a disservice to her to call his longing for her lust. It was not just the glimmer of her eyes or the swell of her flesh.

It was all of it.

It was the lilt of her voice when she teased him or the hard edge of it when she demanded something of her enemies. It was that her spirit outshone the pulsating mark of the anchor, bent it and used it. Used him. The questions, the challenges, even her cold shoulder when she disagreed with him. And then demure avoidance of his gaze when she apologized—that she even apologized.

But he couldn't.

He could not admit it. Not to himself, not even in his head. He knew he was already ruined, but to admit to himself was unnecessary.

All of this was unnecessary.

He had to swallow it. Hide it. Bury it with the rest of his quiet regrets. He could carry the weight of this along with the weight of everything else. Longing was not quite so different than loneliness.

Blood flaked from her skin, and the glow of his willpower erupted from his hands. It was distorted underwater. The flecks of light drifted through the tub, spirit magic whisking around the expanse of her legs. His magic wrapped about her like a thick blanket, healing cuts and grazes.

"Hmmm." She cooed, slipping in lower, her knee bending into his hands.

Her own aura met his, exhausted magic stretching out through the natural current of the water. Her mana was tired but overwhelming to him, entangling through his with the same sensation that her fingers had when they had held hands days ago.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Solas."

She was staring at him fondly with her head rested against the side of the porcelain.

He audibly huffed. Damn her.

"You would surely be traveling with Cassandra instead, who would be much harder to persuade into bad ideas. Like closing rifts."

Ellana's smile widened. "I won't live this one down, will I?"

"Absolutely not."

Neither would he, apparently. Standing, he let her leg dip back into the water.

"Finished?" He asked, leaning over and ignoring the foggy vision of her willowy figure. His eyes held hers resolutely, hands reaching as if to pull her out.

"Wait—what about you?"

Caught in her adamant gaze, the surprise of the question burned his ears. His mind begged him to be reasonable and he forced a casual laugh to replace his most likely stunned expression.

"I can go without."

She smiled with raised brows. "Have you seen yourself?"

A wet hand rose from the water, droplets cascading back to the surface. His hand gripped the other side of the tub, practically sitting on the edge of it as he froze in his loom over her.

Her hand was warm and moist when it hit his cheek, thumb pressing pointedly across his skin. Cleaning, not caressing, he reasoned.

"You're a mess."

Oh, if you had any idea…

Solas turned toward her wrist, the tip of his nose kissed wet by her skin. When her hand dropped the cool air sent shivers down his spine.

He hummed, the sound caught in his throat.

Her fingers pulled at his tunic. "You have blood all over you, Solas."

She had no idea what she was insinuating, he knew that. But curse her; her words were begging to be responded to. He wanted to tease, wanted to drop into the warm of the water with her, clothes and all.

He would happily drown.

She made nothing easy.

He cornered her with his eyes, willing his voice to sound scrutinizing. "There's hardly room for me in there, da'len." He bit out the endearment, a harsh sound to remind himself.

Ellana flushed bright, smile immediately disappearing. Her hand dropped back to the safety of the water and her knees drew up to her chest.

Embarrassed. Good.

"I-I wasn't implying—"

He ignored the sunken feeling in his stomach. "Come."

His hand found her shoulders and she didn't protest. Her eyes looked everywhere but his as he helped her stand.

She gave soft apologies for getting his clothes wet.

He barely heard them over his memorization of the way her hair curled on her neck, the way the water collected like dew at the tips of her ears.

Ellana didn't shiver long; Solas could not cover her quickly enough.

Her eyes trailed him as he moved about the room, his hands twisting the oil in the lamps down until the flames died.

The tunic sleeves fluttered as he moved, making his arms look even more long and willowy.

He looked rich in them, his ever straight back more pronounced in the crisp but soft fabric. It was fitted unlike his other clothes, but she supposed one would expect such quality from Orlesians.

Clean clothes had been left for them, which Ellana was thankful for.

After her bath Solas had let her dry with towels and magic while he re-wrapped her leg for what seemed like the hundredth time. Afterward he had left her to the bedroom to change, taking the bathroom for himself to do the same.

When he emerged they had both chuckled at each other, dressed in shemlen sleeping clothes.

She suspected he had washed a bit as well, his fingers and face once more the pristine marble she was used to.

"Did you lock the doors?" She asked timidly, glancing at them as if more Venatori would burst through.

"More than once." He answered, the tone in his voice seemingly agreeing with her caution. "I even placed a few wards."

"Truly?"

He turned back to her with a smile, the last lamp dimming in his fingers but not dying. "Truly."

The clothing suited him somehow. He looked comfortable, where she felt a bit odd in the loose robe. The sleeves seemed too wide yet too short, and much too flimsy. She liked the thicker fabrics of wool and furs.

But Solas seemed more pronounced in them. His torso seemed longer, his shoulders broad, spine sharp, and his silhouette seemed to cut the room in half.

Ellana shifted as she considered him, sitting in the sheets of the bed and trying not to close her eyes to the softness of it all. It was not what she preferred and yet, the silken nest seemed to agree with the exhaustion of her muscles.

The heat of the bath had lulled her, reminded her body of its weakness, and pulled the last of her adrenaline away.

Solas neared her, his expression soft with concern.

"You should sleep da'len, you are more than welcome to now."

She tried to nod, somehow turning the motion into lying back into the bed instead. Still, she forced her eyes open for him. "And you?"

She watched his eyes trace the emptiness beside her and Ellana knew his answer from the expression his face.

"I will be quite al—"

"Solas, honestly." She tried, letting her head drop to the pillows a little dramatically. Her arm stretched out far. "Look how massive this shem thing is."

"Shem!"

She ignored his laugh to make her point. "I could fit my whole clan in it, or the entire Inquisition!"

It was actually true, the ornate headboard itself was almost twice her height. Solas had spent some time turning down the sheets, let alone dashing the décor cushions off of it for her.

She glanced back at him, finding raised brows and a smirk. "You exaggerate."

"Maybe. But at least two halla, or all my advisors."

He truly laughed then. She allowed her sleepy mind to watch him cross his arms and chuckle into his fist with satisfaction. The sight of his eyes closed in joy heated her stomach and cheeks.

She went in for the kill. "If you're loathe to share a bed with me, this is at least the one to do it in."

He sobered slightly and she felt her toes tingle when his eyes darkened. "I am not."

She hummed, twisting in the sheets to curl at her side and pat the spot across from her. It was all she could muster after a response like that one.

Her brows furrowed as she listened to him circle the bed to join her, wondering—always wondering at his words.

She recalled the forward comments he had given her in the bath and ones she had heard many times before this day. There was never any mistaking his intention to compliment, to tease, to… play.

And yet…

She could remember an equal amount of instances where his face turned distant, where her own teases were reflected in chiding. There were times he made her feel like a woman, heated and admired, and others a child, foolish and embarrassed.

When he slid in, Ellana was disappointed to find her argument held true – he was almost a whole body away from her.

His posture seemed refined even on his back, an observation that made her smile.

Solas caught her expression, eyes connecting with hers.

She didn't look away, happy to find herself too tired for the insecurity beneath his intensity.

He said nothing. The silence of the room was interrupted only by the hitch of her breath and the steady thud of her heartbeat echoing through her.

He was handsome. Though Ellana wondered what she actually meant with that word. He was not a traditional handsome man, not one she had ever seen… But something about Solas demanded to be looked at. His features were strong, eyes full of something untold.

Something important.

Her lips parted, millions of questions on her tongue.

Funny that she had found the man with millions of answers.

Still, nothing came out.

He turned after some time, twisting to his side to match her. Both seemingly unraveling their thoughts in the gazes of the other. She tried to read his expression, but only saw calmness. Content.

Her body shifted again, satin sliding across her skin, reminding her of her bath.

And his fingers on her body.

She recalled the smooth grace of his palm along her thighs and the careful focus in his expression when he had sought to unbutton her tunic.

Thinking of it while looking straight into his gaze had a heat curling through her muscles as if she had not escaped the steam of the hot water.

A breathy laugh escaped her, unable to hide the effect of her thoughts. She looked away to her hands, but when she glanced up again his eyes were piercing. They flickered about her face and figure as if trying to find something. It nearly took the breath from her.

Sleep tugged at her mind and she fought it, desperate to hold his attention. After all, he had given her nothing but his utmost vigilance for hours.

He had been… oh.

And it had been her folly, all of it. Recklessness, fool hardy, ill consideration… she could hear the words scolded to her from her Keeper in her mind's eye.

Guilt weighed her gaze down to her hands.

She spotted his across from her, his fingers moving slowly against the bed, tracing something unseen into it. He always seemed to unknowingly stir in his idleness.

Her hands reached out unbidden, fingers touching his to stop the movement and entangle him.

His eyes snapped to her and his lips parted.

"Ir abelas hahren." She said instead.

His brows furrowed slightly and then he was moving.

Solas shifted to come close to her. Their hands clasped as he lifted himself, body leaning over hers as he abandoned the gap between them. "No, da'len, there's nothing to apologize for." He assured, leaning closer to her. He seemed to guess at her upset expression. "Neither of us could have known that they were Venatori."

"And—"

His smile broke her insistence.

"Ah, well if you are apologizing for the Rift then yes, that is your fault."

She laughed beneath his teasing smile, her chuckling heating her with warm sensations. Her closed eyes begged to stay closed and when she finally got them open again, it was only half way.

He did not move from his proximity, his warm body curling through the sheets. She could smell him, though it was different now. Wax, cloves, and something heavy—the telltale weight of magic. She could smell his spells on him, the swirling musk of the Veil he manipulated.

Her lids flickered low.

They were quiet for a while, faces into breaking smiles when they happened to cross glances that didn't quite leave when they looked away once more.

"I like your hands."

Her voice sounded weak to her ears as she said it.

The pads of her fingertips brushed along his accused ones, admiring their smoothness. Peeking from her lashes she found his smile gone, his face indifferent as he watched her.

She returned to his hands, dragging her knuckles on his nails.

"Your fingers are so long…!"

Her quiet exclamation was hazy, but Solas laughed. The familiar chuckle curled into a snort. The sound made her whip her gaze at him, finding him pressing his face toward the pillow, eyes avoiding her.

She watched him try to still his smile, lips twitching.

Her fingers tickled the center of his palm and he chuckled breathlessly again, eyes finding her.

Better.

"Ellana."

Her face faded into wonder.

He said her name… so differently than he had before. El-lah-nah. The syllables had rolled off his tongue like a sentence, like separate words carefully picked to speak together.

Closing he eyes, her mind repeated it back to her, again and again.

Ellana, Ellana, Ellana.

Her body sank in the water of the bath in her memory. The heady smell of the Veil from his body wrapped about hers.

"Emma Ellana'as…" She heard him whisper, something dusted across the skin of her cheek.

"Hmmm?"

Another breath… his laugh.

She smiled, his expression conjured behind her closed lids.

There was a weighted warmth along her arm and when he spoke he sounded close.

The hot air of his words pressed on her lips, pushing her deep into the welcoming embrace of the Fade.

"Son era, 'ma Ellana."

A/N:
Ir abelas - I'm sorry
Son era, 'ma Ellana - Sleep/Dream well, my Ellana

Most of my Elvhen is courtesy of the amazing fenxshiral on tumblr!