(Galadriel is fairly used to getting mail but she'll be a bit shocked to receive any in Thedas. For any notes, missives, letters, or other communications.)
It is an ominous statement and one that draws her focus like a blow. She stares at him and concern darts across her face. He has a hunted look about him and his head is bowed. She draws him forward and sets his head upon her shoulder.
"How dire is the circumstance?"
It is a polite way to ask--do they need to leave? Has he been found out and will he be treated poorly. He has come to her in the middle of the night, it would make sense that flight was his goal. She will leave, without pause, if he needs her to.
"Are you safe?"
He would not be popular if his deeds were found out, it is a feeling she knows well.
It is not as bad as it could have been and Solas is well aware of that fact; it could have been one of the Templars that had learned of him, or the elves other than Adalia that were part of his party. The fact that it was her, who has his trust on some far, distant level, who trusts him in return, is a gift, truly. It does not change the discomfort he feels, however, or the tension that coils around him, wishing that he could make her unlearn it.
"It is no Templar, nor anyone that might truly be a threat to me."
It's a weight to admit all the same; it might not be dangerous for him currently, but in the future? The fact that she had learned it from his company, from knowledge of elven? It means he will have to be more careful, trust Rifters less, show them less of himself. He leans into her embrace, lets his forehead rest on her shoulder, letting himself draw on her strength even as his mind attempts to make plans.
"Adalia learned much in the Temple of Falon'Din. There, she saw me speak with the spirit of Mythal. There, she learned the truth of me."
"Adalia?" She repeats and her expression falls just so. She has met Adalia, has read her heart and had clutched her tightly when she was the most lost, the most injured she had ever been in Thedas. She cannot bring herself to suggest wiping the woman's mind, cannot bring herself to suggest harming her, though it does come to mind.
Many years spent guarding a ring of power have made Galadriel...darker than she likes, especially in situations akin to this one. Yet, here, she cannot really conjure the words and for that she is thankful.
It’s clear that they’re both fond of Adalia, even if it might be in different ways for different reasons. His fondness came from her mind, from her dedication, the wisdom and courage she possesses. She was the kind of person that Solas would see more of in the world, but had not been able to see throughout Thedas. It says much that the people he is most fond of are those from beyond the realm of Thedas itself.
He knows that although he has made plans for her death he does not truly wish to do it. It would not be the first time he had made a sacrifice for his path, and he would mourn it. Perhaps she will keep his secret - but the risk of more learning who he is... It concerns him. It unnerves him the more people learn.
“That I am Fen’Hsrel, that I was deemed a rebel, that I turned on the evanuris.”
"Enough, then," Galadriel agrees and reaches up to rest a hand against the center of his back.
She can understand his distress now, but there is nothing to be done for it. Not at this moment. He has not come to her for aid, not the direct sort. Surely he has come for comfort, then, so that she can calm him. Her work is forgotten as she embraces him.
"Stay with me and be calm," she urges. "Nothing terrible shall come of this, not before morning, and it does not bear panic...not yet."
“Enough for it to be a danger, no matter what she might say.”
Solas’ trust only goes so far, and this is a dangerous secret to trust anyone with. He might have considered Adalia’s use to him in the past, had visited her dreams, even, but he had not been prepared for her to learn this before he was ready. She is bright, to be sure, and he needed to speak this aloud to someone he trusted, to air his thoughts. The fact that Galadriel herself knew his secret meant that he should inform her when others find it out, especially when she had kept it for so long.
“Not yet,” he agrees. He will give her time, he thinks, will test if her loyalty persists when she is ignored as he works through his thoughts. If she keeps his secret then... Perhaps. “Your kindness is great and welcome.”
"It is hardly an effort to be kind to you, Solas, you are dear to me," she assures him quietly and leans to press her forehead against his.
"Adalia is...unlikely to do you wanton harm. If she chooses to, we shall deal with it together. Until my door is brought down, linger, and allow your mind some measure of peace."
They stand for a moment and she urges him back. Her exhaustion grows as she stands and the comfort of his warmth and his arms is enough to inspire her toward sleep. Her bed is small, but she would not hesitate to share it, if he chose.
“As you are to me.” Easy enough to admit, given what she knows of his feelings for her. It’s not a hardship for him to admit his fondness; not when she has stolen into his thoughts and his heart so surely and so suddenly. He had always appreciated her for her beauty, her mind, her strength, and that only grows.
There is some peace be had and Solas lets his mind relax, just for a moment. She is right that Adalia would not hurt him yet, even if she was truly able. It’s a matter requiring more thought, seeing what she is going to do, and then judgements will be made. He’s glad to have Galadriel with him; glad to have her support.
Leaning up, Solas reaches for her, urging her to come to him so that he can leave a tender, thankful kiss on her lips. A glance toward her bed is enough to stall him.
“I would not take your bed nor your rest from you.”
"You cannot take from me something that I share willingly," she says, happy to lean down so that he can rise up and kiss her. His lips are like his voice, soft and calming and she delights that he is willing to share in her indulgences.
"Take your rest here; I suspect I will sleep better in your presence, anyway," she adds and smooths her hand down his back. It is not a sexual gesture, she is savoring his heat and the gentle texture of his shirt.
There’s few people he’d be willing to share such space with, he thinks, but she is surely one of them. It seems foolish to consider slipping back to his own room when he came here for comfort; she is offering it, and he doesn’t wish to consider what it would do to reject it now. He wants her comfort, her companionship, her warmth. Solas is sure his fondness for her shows on his face.
He steals another kiss, fingers brushing over her cheek gently, leaning into her touch. It shocks him, a little, to know he wants this. He wants to lie with her and share her warmth, the settled feeling of being lured back to ease.
“It would be cruel of me to leave you to sleep poorly.” He still sounds tired, worried, unsure, but she grounds him enough with the promise of aid that he can calm the storm for an evening, for more thought the next day.
"So terribly cruel," she agrees into the space between them and, before he can contemplate any longer, uses her hand at his back to lead him back woard the bed. It is not much effort, he trusts her to move them, and once they are at the side of the bed she sits and takes him down at her side.
"I do warn you, I have had little practice at this. I am very unskilled when it comes to slumber." Her amusement is only a thin veil. She is not lying, nor jesting. Sleep does not come easily to her, not as it does to him, and while she would lament disturbing him from his rest, she can do nothing to prevent herself from it should it come to pass.
“I would not do you such an unkindness.” It’s easy to allow himself to be guided, to let her urge him to bed. Sleep might take longer than he is used to this evening, but it is still a familiar friend to him. Sleeping at her side might well make it easier for him; he cares for her, truly so, and if her comfort is as soothing in sleep as it is in wakefulness then he would be blessed indeed.
Her words make him pause before he turns, taking her hands to kiss her fingertips.
“Let me find you in your dreams. I will do what I can to soothe your sleep.” Leaning forward, Solas offers his arms as surely as she had her own, tenderness colouring his features. “Rest with me and I will do as I can to guide you as we lie together.”
Galadriel does not resist his offer, leaning into him as they lean back onto her bed. The surface is plain, the mattress unremarkable, but Solas is comfortable and her heart is calm near him. She rests her head alongside his own, her arm is draped across him, and she hums her appreciation of this situation.
She makes to say something else, to thank him for his understanding, but she sleeps before she can. Long spans without rest catch up to her quickly in this world and the whole of her goes slack against him as she passes into dreams.
It’s a simple thing, to lie beside her, to let her arm stretch over him and settle against his body. It’s comfortable in a way Solas had not considered before now, and when he turn to speak to her again when a few moments have passed he stops, smiling as he sees the peace of sleep settled over her features. She is beautiful, he thinks, more than he can say.
He is slower to fall asleep if only because his mind is still flooded with thoughts that tangle in his mind. It takes him time, but he gets there, his mind relaxing enough that he slips into the Fade.
Manipulating the dream to find her is not as difficult as it seems, and Solas creates elven ruins for the two of them. When he reaches her, he takes her hand, draws her close, smiles softly.
The Fade is turmoil for Galadriel, the eras of her life played out, disjointed and confused as she rests. It is not hard to imagine why she dislikes it--but the ease that comes with taking his hand and being pulled close to him, that is wondrous. Her focus rests wholly on him as she is drawn from the dark tangle of dreaming and then, as he speaks, she becomes aware of the space around them.
She has seen the Fade manipulated before, in part, but Solas's skill is far beyond what she knows. The world he has conjured has detail beyone measure, it is a mirror of what could be in reality, and even Galadriel cannot find the seams in it. She marvels, her expression open across her face as it rarely is while she is awake, and draws away from him just so, so that she can crane her neck and see more.
"Amazing, my dearest, you have such skill I would never have imagined could exist."
What Solas wishes to show her is what is left of the People in the world. He has been to some ruins, visited the Temple with Adalia and her companions, had seen what had been lost over time and ignorance. It’s part of what hurts him so deeply, to see the People he had loved so dearly reduced to ruin and neglect, abandoned due to the work of those he had no reason to hope to exist.
Watching her stare around at his creation is enough for him. He wanted to give her comfort, true, but he also wanted her to see what the Fade could be in the hands of someone who understood it, someone who knows it as intimately as he does. It’s easy to move up beside her, to stand at her side and follow her gaze, fond and pleased. He’s proud to have inspired this in her.
“This is what remains of the People. In part, at least.” There’s more, beyond the mirrors, but he has yet to learn the codes. “This is what the Fade holds - memories of places throughout history. I’m glad to share it with you.”
"Would it pain you terribly to show me what they were, once?" Galadriel asks, her careful consideration and filters gone in this place beyond waking. She is curious by nature, prideful and quick witted and, here, that nature pours forth much more sharply than it does in reality.
She turns to him, smiling, and then realizes her question may dishearten him. Concern passes over her face like a cloud across the sun and she settles a hand on his shoulder, steps back alongside him, and tries to cut that possible future off.
"It is a marvelous sight. I long to know the history of this world; being blind to it is too strange for me. Are there other memories, other places I should see?"
"It is not an easy thing to show, and not just because the memories are hard to bear." Solas looks around the ruins, his eyes drinking it all in, his heart in his throat. There is so much more that these places could've been if the Veil had not been made, but he knows why he made the choice he had. He knows why he did it, the choice he made. Does that mean he doesn't regret it? No, of course not. Regrets are a shadow over him.
His thoughts would go darker if she did not bring him out of it. It's been a mess since he walked into her room, but her touch is as grounding here as it had been in sleep, and Solas reaches back for her, letting his fingers take hers, resting on his shoulder.
"I can tell you of it, but with the Veil as it is... It is difficult to replicate the world that once was." He sounds forlorn, at least. "But I can show you the things I have seen amongst the whispers of the Fade, take you to the places where the Inquisition could only hope to go."
"I can think of nothing I would enjoy more," she assures him and leans in to press her forehead against his. It is a quiet and intimate gesture, and she smiles with quiet joy as she does it.
"Show me whatever you desire, my dearest," she urges. "If I could, I would show you the glorious places of my past, but I lack your fine talents."
Solas leans into the touch, letting himself bask in the comfort for a moment. She is sure and solid, even here in the Fade, and he lets himself feel warm and content in her embrace. She gives him strength, at least for now, and he takes both her hands before he turns to look out over the Fade.
"Did you see Haven?" An easy enough place to start. "It was where the Inquisition first began."
Solas smiles, drawing her forward. His memories of Haven are of the cold snow under his feet, the shape of the houses, the chantry with the war room and the advisors. He can see it all in his mind, see the shape of it as he moves forward with Galadriel's hand in his own, letting he memory unfurl and create the image in front of him.
"It was a good place when it began. The start of something that became great." Solas hums, thoughtful. "And then Corypheus came."
The world changes, the temple falls away and Galadriel marvels as the mountain sky stretches high above them. It is clear and blue, save for the great split in it--the Breach, she presumes. The trees stand tall and dense, boughs heavy with snow, and the smell of woodsmoke and the sound of voices and the clashing of metal meets her ears. This is a human settlement, for certain, but it is not an unpleasant one.
"What a lovely sight," she says as she glances across the faces of the buildings to the distant frozen lake and the iced falls on the far side. "When I first heard of this, they said a high demon had caused it. I had thought a Balrog had laid waste to the land.
"It is a pity it was destroyed in the avalanche, but such things are passing."
Haven is beautiful, he thinks, lifting his head to stare out over the mountains. Snow-topped and grand, he remembers watching them from afar, his eyes moving between them and the Breach and wondering what the future might call for. He had high hopes for the Inquisition, high hopes for their future, but with what had happened to the Inquisitor and the newness of the anchor shards... It seems like a century ago - and it's an old, nostalgic feeling that he's more than accustomed to now.
"That is what makes the Fade so unique. You can see memories from a thousand lifetimes here, if you only know the way. Battlefields from ten different points of view, resting cautiously alongside the dreams and nightmares of those that have come to pass."
His sudden melancholy does not pass her by, not when they stand so near to one another. She regards him curiously, her attention pulled from the snowy landscape of Haven, and squeezes his hand where it rests in hers.
She should encourage him, speak to how all beauty fades in time, but Solas knows that lesson as well as she does. Instead, she simply smiles at him.
"Thank you for showing me this place," she says, "I am glad to have seen what it was ere I came to Thedas."
But this has taken her curiosity in another direction and she cannot quite stop herself as she asks:
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"How dire is the circumstance?"
It is a polite way to ask--do they need to leave? Has he been found out and will he be treated poorly. He has come to her in the middle of the night, it would make sense that flight was his goal. She will leave, without pause, if he needs her to.
"Are you safe?"
He would not be popular if his deeds were found out, it is a feeling she knows well.
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"It is no Templar, nor anyone that might truly be a threat to me."
It's a weight to admit all the same; it might not be dangerous for him currently, but in the future? The fact that she had learned it from his company, from knowledge of elven? It means he will have to be more careful, trust Rifters less, show them less of himself. He leans into her embrace, lets his forehead rest on her shoulder, letting himself draw on her strength even as his mind attempts to make plans.
"Adalia learned much in the Temple of Falon'Din. There, she saw me speak with the spirit of Mythal. There, she learned the truth of me."
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Many years spent guarding a ring of power have made Galadriel...darker than she likes, especially in situations akin to this one. Yet, here, she cannot really conjure the words and for that she is thankful.
"The whole truth of you?"
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He knows that although he has made plans for her death he does not truly wish to do it. It would not be the first time he had made a sacrifice for his path, and he would mourn it. Perhaps she will keep his secret - but the risk of more learning who he is... It concerns him. It unnerves him the more people learn.
“That I am Fen’Hsrel, that I was deemed a rebel, that I turned on the evanuris.”
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She can understand his distress now, but there is nothing to be done for it. Not at this moment. He has not come to her for aid, not the direct sort. Surely he has come for comfort, then, so that she can calm him. Her work is forgotten as she embraces him.
"Stay with me and be calm," she urges. "Nothing terrible shall come of this, not before morning, and it does not bear panic...not yet."
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Solas’ trust only goes so far, and this is a dangerous secret to trust anyone with. He might have considered Adalia’s use to him in the past, had visited her dreams, even, but he had not been prepared for her to learn this before he was ready. She is bright, to be sure, and he needed to speak this aloud to someone he trusted, to air his thoughts. The fact that Galadriel herself knew his secret meant that he should inform her when others find it out, especially when she had kept it for so long.
“Not yet,” he agrees. He will give her time, he thinks, will test if her loyalty persists when she is ignored as he works through his thoughts. If she keeps his secret then... Perhaps. “Your kindness is great and welcome.”
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"Adalia is...unlikely to do you wanton harm. If she chooses to, we shall deal with it together. Until my door is brought down, linger, and allow your mind some measure of peace."
They stand for a moment and she urges him back. Her exhaustion grows as she stands and the comfort of his warmth and his arms is enough to inspire her toward sleep. Her bed is small, but she would not hesitate to share it, if he chose.
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There is some peace be had and Solas lets his mind relax, just for a moment. She is right that Adalia would not hurt him yet, even if she was truly able. It’s a matter requiring more thought, seeing what she is going to do, and then judgements will be made. He’s glad to have Galadriel with him; glad to have her support.
Leaning up, Solas reaches for her, urging her to come to him so that he can leave a tender, thankful kiss on her lips. A glance toward her bed is enough to stall him.
“I would not take your bed nor your rest from you.”
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"Take your rest here; I suspect I will sleep better in your presence, anyway," she adds and smooths her hand down his back. It is not a sexual gesture, she is savoring his heat and the gentle texture of his shirt.
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He steals another kiss, fingers brushing over her cheek gently, leaning into her touch. It shocks him, a little, to know he wants this. He wants to lie with her and share her warmth, the settled feeling of being lured back to ease.
“It would be cruel of me to leave you to sleep poorly.” He still sounds tired, worried, unsure, but she grounds him enough with the promise of aid that he can calm the storm for an evening, for more thought the next day.
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"I do warn you, I have had little practice at this. I am very unskilled when it comes to slumber." Her amusement is only a thin veil. She is not lying, nor jesting. Sleep does not come easily to her, not as it does to him, and while she would lament disturbing him from his rest, she can do nothing to prevent herself from it should it come to pass.
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Her words make him pause before he turns, taking her hands to kiss her fingertips.
“Let me find you in your dreams. I will do what I can to soothe your sleep.” Leaning forward, Solas offers his arms as surely as she had her own, tenderness colouring his features. “Rest with me and I will do as I can to guide you as we lie together.”
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She makes to say something else, to thank him for his understanding, but she sleeps before she can. Long spans without rest catch up to her quickly in this world and the whole of her goes slack against him as she passes into dreams.
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He is slower to fall asleep if only because his mind is still flooded with thoughts that tangle in his mind. It takes him time, but he gets there, his mind relaxing enough that he slips into the Fade.
Manipulating the dream to find her is not as difficult as it seems, and Solas creates elven ruins for the two of them. When he reaches her, he takes her hand, draws her close, smiles softly.
“Welcome to the ruins of the People.”
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She has seen the Fade manipulated before, in part, but Solas's skill is far beyond what she knows. The world he has conjured has detail beyone measure, it is a mirror of what could be in reality, and even Galadriel cannot find the seams in it. She marvels, her expression open across her face as it rarely is while she is awake, and draws away from him just so, so that she can crane her neck and see more.
"Amazing, my dearest, you have such skill I would never have imagined could exist."
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Watching her stare around at his creation is enough for him. He wanted to give her comfort, true, but he also wanted her to see what the Fade could be in the hands of someone who understood it, someone who knows it as intimately as he does. It’s easy to move up beside her, to stand at her side and follow her gaze, fond and pleased. He’s proud to have inspired this in her.
“This is what remains of the People. In part, at least.” There’s more, beyond the mirrors, but he has yet to learn the codes. “This is what the Fade holds - memories of places throughout history. I’m glad to share it with you.”
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She turns to him, smiling, and then realizes her question may dishearten him. Concern passes over her face like a cloud across the sun and she settles a hand on his shoulder, steps back alongside him, and tries to cut that possible future off.
"It is a marvelous sight. I long to know the history of this world; being blind to it is too strange for me. Are there other memories, other places I should see?"
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His thoughts would go darker if she did not bring him out of it. It's been a mess since he walked into her room, but her touch is as grounding here as it had been in sleep, and Solas reaches back for her, letting his fingers take hers, resting on his shoulder.
"I can tell you of it, but with the Veil as it is... It is difficult to replicate the world that once was." He sounds forlorn, at least. "But I can show you the things I have seen amongst the whispers of the Fade, take you to the places where the Inquisition could only hope to go."
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"Show me whatever you desire, my dearest," she urges. "If I could, I would show you the glorious places of my past, but I lack your fine talents."
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"Did you see Haven?" An easy enough place to start. "It was where the Inquisition first began."
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"It was a good place when it began. The start of something that became great." Solas hums, thoughtful. "And then Corypheus came."
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"What a lovely sight," she says as she glances across the faces of the buildings to the distant frozen lake and the iced falls on the far side. "When I first heard of this, they said a high demon had caused it. I had thought a Balrog had laid waste to the land.
"It is a pity it was destroyed in the avalanche, but such things are passing."
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"That is what makes the Fade so unique. You can see memories from a thousand lifetimes here, if you only know the way. Battlefields from ten different points of view, resting cautiously alongside the dreams and nightmares of those that have come to pass."
Solas frowns, sighing.
"It is beautiful."
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She should encourage him, speak to how all beauty fades in time, but Solas knows that lesson as well as she does. Instead, she simply smiles at him.
"Thank you for showing me this place," she says, "I am glad to have seen what it was ere I came to Thedas."
But this has taken her curiosity in another direction and she cannot quite stop herself as she asks:
"How did you come to join them?"
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