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[troubleyan]

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I know the thing

[troubleyan]

[ Falling through the Fade this time hurts, because she's made the mistake of falling first. A silly and impractical thing for her to do, more reckless than allowing Fen'Harel to so thoroughly seduce her because she felt like fucking a god.

In the five-six seconds between Fen'Harel activating an orb they absolutely, totally stole from Dirthamen together, and the Fade and time splitting open around her, she thought oh Maker no, I wanted more time with you.

And then the she's in Skyhold, her Skyhold, in the middle of the night. Skyhold's inner garden, emptied out of all the Chantry sisters this late at night, shines bright green as the Inquisitor is returned to her time.

Her Inquisitorialness needs a moment to catch her breath, and not feel like her world is spinning. Like her heart is somehow empty.]

Ugh, so stupid... [She's going to have such a report to write, given that she's ended up in a different place than where she disappeared. She's not sure Cullen will accept a It's all fine, don't worry about it! as a report from her. Maybe from Sera.

Maker, how long has she been gone? Is Corypheus still -

And then, that voice. From the side entrance to the Keep, soft and familiar. She turns and faces him, and wonders - for a moment - how he feels about the fact that she is dressed in the dark leather armour of one of Fen'Harel's agents. (They did commit a heist together after all.)

But also, fuck it. What she's wearing is irrelevant.]

Ah. Well. [She looks at him for a very long time, and then takes a step towards him.]

Hello again.

[dirth]

[ This is the last thing he expected, and also one of the worst things that could have happened to all of his plans.

Solas does not want to imagine what else might slip into his mind once she has settled back into this reality a little more comfortably, and his teeth grit together. Now that she's aware of his identity - because there is no hiding the fact that he is Fen'Harel, not when she had been with him so intimately - he will have to be all the more careful, and he will have to ensure that she does not spread it.

Whatever he might offer, it will have to be a grand thing indeed.

The leather does upset him, briefly, but there are more important things to focus on. He has to judge how much she is going to give him, how far he might have to push her, what she is going to do with this knowledge - and how he is going to deal with the new sexual fantasies that have erupted in his mind, memories as fresh as they were only yesterday.

Lifting a hand to rub under his eyes, Solas sighs. ]

It seems your journey took you further than we had anticipated.

[ He doesn't move back and away from her, but... He is clearly cautious. ]

You are unharmed?

[troubleyan]

I am sure you're disappointed to learn that, [she says it quietly, all the secrets in between them that she is not speaking. Her awareness of who he is.

Who he was. She adds,] hahren.

[Dreadwolf take me, indeed, she thinks, holding the same piercing blue gaze, standing toes to toes. Here it is: she knew, even as she slept with Fen'Harel, over and over, who he'd be.

(Foolish for her to think she would come out of it unscathed.)

She used him - but perhaps it's mutual. Whatever Solas's intention has been, he has clearly been using her now too.]

I spent months living so far into the past that Thedas wasn't even a concept, but sure. I'm unharmed.

[dirth]

Not disappointed. No. [ Irritated, upset, frustrated, angry - all those words, perhaps, but he cannot muster the strength for disappointment right now. Not with the memories of her pleasure and her softness are ringing in his ears, as though they had just happened to him.

If his cheeks are flushed, both at the memories and her words, he tries to hide it with a cough and a tilt of his head.

When she had travelled to the past, she must have recognised Fen'Harel for who he was immediately, and she still chose to lie with him. What that says about her - or him - is perhaps better left unsaid. Unspoken. Otherwise... Solas might end up making further mistakes, and that cannot be tolerated.

His eyes drag over her body carefully, checking her, before he nods his assent. ]

Do you require me to examine your mark?

no hinges on this door

[troubleyan]

Solas. [ He is so measured in comparison. What happened, after she returned, after he returned her here? What happened to turn him so very solemn?

By all means, she should offer her ears to listen and her shoulders to support him, something that could possibly communicate that she's been down bad for him.

But she's travelled back in time, to a time when Solas wore a different role, carried the arrogance of his youth exactly as he'd described it casually to her before Halamshiral, and carried it well. She's been back nary an hour and she feels ripped open - fuck, she misses Fen'Harel.

Months ago, back then, the first time they fucked - she'd justified it to herself as them being two different elves. Now, right now, the proof of that different aches like an old bruise.

Her gaze affixes his face to memory, reacquainting herself with Solas versus Fen'Harel, and her gaze catches on the large fang hanging from his neck. Her jaw clenches and she reaches out and grabs onto it, letting the sharper edges of it dig into her palm, against the mark. ]

I know who you are. [ It comes out softly, but her green eyes glow with the faint green of her mark, flickering awake from sheer anger. ] I know who you are. What the fuck are you doing tagging along with the Inquisition like some apostate, Fen'Harel?

[dirth]

That is my concern.

[ Solas watches her, his frustration and concern obvious on his features - concern for her, yes, because his fondness for her cannot be overstated, his confessions to her in the quiet hours of the night something that cannot be denied - but also for his own future. She could ruin everything with a few simple words, and while some might not ever believe her... Enough would.

Her word carries heavy weight indeed.

She pulls him closer, and he allows it, lets her take her rage and her anger out on him. His memories of her time with Fen'Harel are clear enough; the two of them had been fond of each other, had liked each other, beyond the pleasure of their sexual encounters. Perhaps she would prefer if he was here, and Solas was in the past, to be forgotten.

Sighing softly, he bows his head, eyes closed. ]

My power is in your hand. The Orb you touched was mine. I had plans for this world after I awoke, and none of them can come to pass without that power returned to me.

[troubleyan]

You awoke...[There's a soft, sharp inhale, her eyes widening.] From uthenera - [It opens the floodgates to another wave of doubts and questions. But it also answers some.

Her expression softens, because she's always been soft for Solas.]

You needed the orb and my hand has its power. That explains why you lingered on the edges instead of taking command of the Inquisition for yourself.

[She knows now how well equipped he could be for it. She knows the extent of his power.

There is a long pause, and finally she admits it softly:]

It was your eyes. I could've easily been convinced it was an old ancestor, but your eyes were the same and your magic felt the same and your voice... [She lets out a bitter, soft laugh.]

I resisted the temptation to connect the dots for two weeks, before it became impossible to ignore. It became downright stupid for me to ignore, or feign ignorance - and you never tolerate fools, do you...

[dirth]

It's good to see you paid attention to what you were being taught. [ Of course he was in uthenera; he might have survived so long otherwise, with the blood of the People so strong in him, but he would not be the man he is. He would have changed with this world, and perhaps his bitterness and his anger would've settled into some other emotion. As it stands, his plans are as they have always been.

Their connection had been there before she had been thrown through time. It was likely the power in her hand that her drawn her to Fen'Harel to begin with: two points in time, joined together through her. It would be impossible to ignore her with a spark of his own making on her palm.

Solas longs to reach for her, to touch her, his own feelings twisted with that of himself in centuries long lost, but he resists. He crosses his arms behind his back instead, keeping himself tempered. ]

I never have, and neither would he. I can remember how he felt, when he saw you. The power was familiar, but he could not explain how. The interest began as an academic one, but over time... I recall what happened. I am certain you don't need your memory refreshed.

[ He had teased her, touched her, and claimed her. He remembers the thrill of the bite to her skin, the desire to keep her for himself, no matter what anyone else might think of him for doing so, a strange creature appearing in their lands.

Carefully, Solas huffs a sigh. ]

And what do you intend to do now?

[troubleyan]

[She bites her bottom lip, memories fresh enough in her mind that it feels wrong to not touch him too. More wrong still that he won't touch her; she sees the way he holds his hands at his back and it feels like a cold shard of ice slipping between her ribs.

She needs to learn to let that go. Otherwise, she'd have to admit that she knew this would happen eventually. The condemnation and the distance, returned and reinforced.

She lets his precious necklace go, and wipes her hands on her trousers, glancing away to the door towards the grand hall. What will she do?]

I do not know. I suppose I'd better tell Leliana or Cullen that I'm back, and prepare myself for a briefing meeting. I suppose I should tell them how far back I went - I'd better decide what I tell them...

[It will be funny now to hear the Dalish swear at her with Dreadwolf take you, considering how often and completely he had. Considering that he'd be fighting next to her - if he stays.

Her mark aches again, the dull pain of this timeline returned, and she looks back at Solas.]

I have a question for you, if you'll do me the courtesy of answering it honestly or not at all.

[dirth]

[ It is a delicate balance. He is not going to demand anything of her based on a relationship she may now regret, no more than he can allow her to use their encounter in the past to mould him now in the future. No matter what he feels for her, he must be careful and tread lightly going forward. If he does not, then it will only cause more problems for them both.

His eyes drink her in all the same, expression filled with a tenderness he cannot begin to name for fear of losing himself entirely. ]

You can be delicate with the truth. I have seen it in action, on some rare occasions.

[ Unfortunately, she is often too blunt and honest for anyone's good, but he hopes in this case she will understand his desire for discretion.

Lifting his head, he watches her, eyes softening around the edges. ]

Yes, da'len. I will answer you.

[troubleyan]

[Oh, curse him - the surge of tenderness in her own heart is almost unbearable. Her eyes wide for a moment, when he calls her that again, her throat closing around an inexplicable need to burrow her face in the crook of his neck and do something dumb, like cry.

She pushes through, keeping a precarious grip on her own control.

She can do this. She can ask.

She brings her hand up, palm facing up so the mark shows on her bare hand, her glove in her other hand. He wanted to examine the mark, and it has made her wonder...]

Does this matter to you more than - mm. No, let me reword that. You gave me a fortress, Solas. You have followed me across Thedas and seen me through thick and thin and some fucking time travel - Alexius, I mean, not this one. I thought perhaps it was because you also...felt something. But I think this matters more. Am I right?

[dirth]

[ He barely even noticed himself using the word until he sees her reaction, and then he curses himself just enough to frown, irritated at his own foolishness. Solas knows he shouldn't be entertaining this any further, but...

There's no way for him to deny the way he feels, the connection that was there already made stronger by her dip through the past. Fen'Harel had liked her, had wished to claim her - for Solas it isn't the same, older and wiser as he is, but he still feels that urge to wrap his arms around her and keep her at his side. The twin sides of himself both want her, and it is difficult to ignore it.

Reaching out, he takes her hand between both of his own to check the mark, hovering as he considers the question. ]

The reason I am here is because of this. The Mark, the Orb and the power that it holds. It is that power that I want.

[ There's no point lying; he's never lied to her and doesn't intend to start now. All the same...

He's not exactly telling the entire truth. ]

[troubleyan]

[There is a pause, in which Evelyn waits for him to continue. She has learned to read between the lines with him enough to know he can't be done talking. That he was following the Inquisition to recover his orb was a given.]

And? You haven't answered my question, Solas.

[dirth]

The power matters more.

[ Solas strokes his finger against her hand gently before he sighs, bowing his head. ]

But I do feel for you.

[troubleyan]

[She studies him quietly for a moment, his eyelashes and the frown on his brow and that artistic nose of his and the fact that he is so close...

He does feel for her.

Somewhere under her armour and clothes, she wears his bites, where Fen'Harel claimed her before they'd sneaked into Dirthamen's palace for an orb similar to the one that took her that far back into the past. Each mark of his teeth, she imagines, would match. She wonders if he is remembering that, or if those memories are yet to settle.

With a sigh, she leans in and brushes a kiss to the top of his brow, against his forehead.]

Good enough.

[Her hand twitches in his once, squeezing his fingers. She lingers with her lips against his skin for a moment longer, then retires slowly. With reluctance.]

If I'm in one piece, hahren, I best get inside...

[dirth]

[ Solas watches her, drinking her in, wondering what is going on in her mind. To be able to read her like a book, to unpick the thoughts in her head - but he cannot. Of course he can't. That is not one of his powers.

The kiss to his forehead has him sighing a soft noise, leaning forward, touching her skin to his. When she speaks, though, he cannot resist the quiet groan, the sound slipping from him like a hiss of air. ]

You should be careful with the terms you use. It could get you into trouble.

[ Hahren, she says. Elder. Something that he is to all the elves of Thedas, if they were willing to accept it. There is more to it, words easier to say in Common than otherwise, but he cannot get into it all.

He'll lose himself to it entirely. ]

You can visit me. Later. If you wish.

[troubleyan]

[She does wish. And if she visits him later, in his rotunda, what then? Sound carries upwards, to whatever people are awake in the library, to the rookery. Her words will carry. If they speak, it will carry.

(And if he should tell her to be quiet for him? If he should cover her mouth with his hand or fill it with his fingers to keep her gagged, then -

Maker, the lengths to which her imagination will go.)]

And if I do, what should I call you then?

[She knows all his names now, all his identities. The two elves - Fen'Harel, Solas - finally melding into one singular entity for her. Familiar and necessary and so fucking complicated.]

You should know by now that I like getting in trouble.

[dirth]

[ Solas watches her, remembering her time with Fen'Harel in flickers of memory; delicious echoes of pleasure that makes him want more, want to reach out and wrap his arms around her, to claim her. It would be so easy, but...

He breathes out a sharp little noise. She is daring him, he's aware of it, making him want to push and push until the two of them come together and break. Leaning forward, he steps into her space again, the energy of it one she would be familiar with.

Deep down, Solas and Fen'Harel are the same person. They will remain the same. ]

What do you want to call me, da'len? What name comes to your lips when you think of me?

[ He could be fouler, demand her to tell him what she will think of in the middle of the night, when her fingers search out her pretty cunt, and she brings herself pleasure - but that will come later, when he is certain they are alone. ]

What do you want?

[troubleyan]

You must know what I want - I'm not hiding it anymore.

[She doesn't take even half a step back, doesn't cower or flinch; she remains unafraid of him, even when he's so sharp she could taste it.

If she touched him now, would she cut herself?

What name comes to her lips - ] Solas. [Always Solas, all the time. It was Solas before meeting Fen'Harel and it was Solas a few times, on accident, in her head alone.

Any other title feels unnecessary, feel feigned. She can breathe 'Solas' and make it sound like sir, or something else entirely. He hasn't met that part of her yet, only getting it from memory now. In glimpses.

She remembers it more accutely, more recently. It's still an open wound for her, not a fading scar.

When she leans in as well, it brings their faces close, the distance between their mouths easily closed. She doesn't close it, but whispers his name again.] I think Solas, when I...think. Of you.

[dirth]

[ It would be simple to give in to desire, to have her pressed into the doorway, his fingers exploring her skin to see if the echo of memory lives up to the reality. He could do whatever he desired and keep her claimed for himself, drag her to his chambers and have her screaming his name for him. All of it thrums through him like his blood is burning, but he manages to maintain control of himself.

She leans to him, and he leans to her, magnetised. Drawn in by her power twinned with his, the want overpowering.

Solas' lips curl into a pleased smile as he tilts his head, to speak to her ear - and to dodge the kiss she so clearly wishes for. ]

I expect you will think of me tonight. You will remember my cock, and how well I know how to use it. Time has not eroded my talents, da'len, but strengthened them.

[ He can fuck her as well now as he did in the past. ]

Do you think you deserve it, now that you know who I am? That you have earned the right to ride me, claim me?

[troubleyan]

[It's a kiss she doesn't quite know how much she craves until it's denied. A little whimper of pure frustration escapes her when he deviates to speak near her ear, the sound soon cut short by her breath hitching.

He's right. She'll think of him tonight, both sides of the same coin. She'll think of his body and how well she knows it fits against hers, how utterly his she was once, how utterly his she could be again. She'll think of him with her hand between her legs, but she'll think of him with her heart on her sleeve too.

How well she has known to care for him, to suffer heartbreak for him, to do all manner of unladylike things for him.

Her stomach in knots, her heart in her throat, Evelyn's pulse races and her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and she wants to bite it and not say this part, but it's as much Fen'Harel as it is Solas and - ]

I think I've earned the right to earn it, over and over. I think you want to see me try.

[dirth]

[ Watching her, Solas feels an echo of the power and control he once had, stripped from him in his long sleep and with the loss of his orb. He is not the man he had been those many years before, but he still has enough to earn her desire, her want - and perhaps that is enough, for now.

He can remember the weight of her in his lap, the taste of her skin and how wet she was for him, the way he could mould her under his touch. He can remember the want that she felt and how heady it was, to give it to her without hesitation.

Again, he doesn't kiss her, resisting the temptation of it, but he is smiling all the same. Smiling for her. ]

I do. I will see you try... Later. You have a report to make, and then we will see if you have earned me in this time, too.

[troubleyan]

[She doesn't notice how heavily the body yearns until she feels her fists relax when he draws slightly back; she's dug her nails into her palms in anticipation of a kiss, something feral and deep, the way Fen'Harel would - why tell her that his talents have grown further since she returned to her time if not to make her wild with imagining in what way?

She lets out a soft hiss, and jerks her head towards him, her eyes narrowing.] You're such a teasing, arrogant arse... [And she expects to get in trouble for that offense, maybe, but sounds fond the way she says it. Maybe because her eyes are glittering with some form of mischief.

Old god of trickery, wasn't he?

The humour cools off, and she takes a step away from him. With all the haughtiness of a well-bred lady, she flicks her long braid over her shoulder so it hangs down her back.]

Take advantage of this time to figure out what it is you want from me, Fen'Harel, because I do not play to pass time.

[She steps past him, swift as an arrow, and darts into the grand hall, leaving Solas with his thoughts.

The length of her hair will be a way to measure how long she spent in his past, the brain reaching the small of her back now when she'd had her hair cropped closer to her chin before. More details for the report she'll write for her advisors.

It takes four marks on her candle to finish writing. She slips into her empty quarters, get her own fire running, and puts quill to paper through the night. By the time the sun rises over the Frostback Mountains, Evelyn Trevelyan is spotted stepping into Josephine's office to cause great surprise.

It takes the full half morning for her to bring her advisors up to speed - and for them to update her on what she's missed, too - followed by food and an individual checking in with each of her companions. She leaves Solas for last, with nervous trepidation.

It's almost night again by the time she steps into his rotunda. She has since bathed and changed back into her Inquisition garments, a blue jacket and soft trousers that she usually wears in Skyhold. Her hair has been rebraided, worked around her head like a little coronet, pinned into place by one of the servants that insisted on assisting her with her midday bath.

She's still nervous, but for different reasons. When she steps into his space, it's her face she sees in the murals he's been painting, her achievements and her battles, and she feels her mouth dry. How has he felt about her, before this whole time travel thing - did she cause this, or was it there before? Admiration, obsession - what was it? What is it now?

And Solas, look at him now. Tall and carrying himself with that regal arrogance that had always baffled all the noble pricks in Halamshiral, in Skyhold. She gets lost in the angles of his profile, in the width of his shoulders, in the distracting sight of his fingers holding a brush so full of certainty. So capable.

Oh no.]

Is this a bad time?

[dirth]

[ Solas allows her to leave, to let her words hang between them as she disappears to do what she must - to write her report, to catch up with her advisors, to allow them to know that she has returned. He will not get in the way of that, not when he has enough things to think over and fill his mind with, not when he has to allow himself to consider what is ahead for them both now.

The hours give him time to sort through the memories that have awoken inside of him, as if they were always there but laying dormant until the moment she truly travelled through time. They're fresh, but with that ache of time having numbed them; he can feel the taste of her mouth against his own, but like the feeling of having the favourite food from years before.

Drifting in his thoughts, he might not have noticed her arrival if he was not so primed for it, the day passing them by with nothing changed between him and the rest of Skyhold. She has not told anyone, then, and perhaps her report to the advisors will dance around the issue of his connection to Fen'Harel. If he was going to have to flee and remake his plans then he would prefer to have some kind of warning, but it does not seem as though she intends to ruin him any time soon.

Tilting his head, he watches her as she enters, closing the book he had in front of him. More incorrect knowledge about the Fade, so a rather irritating read. ]

Not at all, Inquisitor. How might I be of assistance?

[troubleyan]

[It's because sound carries up, and the rotunda gives way to the library, the rookery, she tells herself.

So they have to be careful with their words, because Evelyn has not detailed the connection between Solas and Fen'Harel. Worse yet: she has not mentioned Fen'Harel at all in her reports.

She holds her hands together behind her, and walks towards him.] I heard from my advisers that you lingered in Dirthamen's temple for days trying to find me in the Fade. I wanted to thank you for such concern...

[She raises her marked hand, waves it - concern for his orb, for his power, she knows.] For my wellbeing.