"Are you sure about this, Wolfy?"

Fen'vhenan nodded as she handed the manuscript to Varric. "Take it to your publishers when you feel it's ready. I only ask that you keep the last tale perfectly in tact."

The dwarven writer shrugged. "I won't need to touch a thing. Your stories are almost as good as mine, and the elven audience will probably think them better. I just don't understand you writing it down after all this time."

"My reasons are my own business, Varric." She had a sad smile on her face, and a whimpering sigh in her voice. "That's all I want to say about it."

"At least let me put your name on the book..."

"No. Use a pen name. This needs to be between friends."

What Vhen didn't mention is that the only one she was trying to reach would understand. The stories she had written were for HIM- they corrected some of the most common stories of the elves, adding a flair of skepticism Solas (no, Fen'harel) would appreciate. The last one though was more obvious...

"If you insist, Wolfy."

Vhenan would have thought Varric of all people would recognize a love letter.

- Weeks later, in a random town -

Solas had been traveling for a long time on his own, going by the name Nadas to aide in hiding from the Inquisition agents. Nadas, to remind him that even without his pride he still had a duty to finish. He found it easy enough, traveling light and swift. Being on his own again was what felt strange. Over the months since their dream Solas had heard many possible things about the Inquisition- the most disturbing being that this Inquisitor had met the same end as the last.

It was as he stopped in a town for supplies he solidified which rumors were true. Varric Tethras has written another book, the gossips said. He has truly outdone himself and expanded to elf audiences. More interesting was that he had a partner now. Apparently Revasaha Mahariel was an elven poet who was aiding Master Tethras, and had expanded the appeal. Mahariel was a dead clan, only one member remaining and she was no longer amongst the Dalish herself. So who was Revasha? There was only one person he knew who could write as Tethras did, who told stories to equal the dwarf. It meant she was still there, that the worst had not found her.

Against his better judgement, Solas acquired a copy.

The stories were what most would call fractured folklore, retellings of old stories from both dwarven and elven societies. They were stylized to legendary proportions, the wording specifically chosen to cast doubt on the material. It was subtle, but the message was clear: this is a tale, not a history, so keep its weight light. It was brilliant and beautiful. And how he recognized the voice in the old Dalish tales, the mocking tone that asked if these were really their creators.

Then he found the final tale...

~ There was a woman who was left alone in the woods as a young child. Alone and abandoned, she was wandering for days before being caught in a trap meant for a wolf... ~

It couldn't possibly be. Yet as he read, growing more unbalanced, Solas found the message in this one different. Most would see it as a fiction with a strange base- not quite elvhen in origin, but neither human nor dwarf either. There were only two people in Thedas who would see beyond the surface.

~ I know everything, Fen'harel. I truly forgive you. I still love you. I'm still alive, and I miss you. ~

The message was clear to him, and it eased his fears. Breathing more easily, Solas returned to preparing for the next stage of his own journey. He knew she trusted him to do his duty, and he would keep faith that she could persevere through hers. And at the end, maybe they would meet again.

- Final A/N -

I want to thank you readers for your enjoyment and following! I will be following a suggestion I received to continue with a story set after this. Keep an eye out for the follow up featuring Lavellan and Dorian fun...

~N.B.