Chapter Text
“Is this an every night type of deal?” Rook questioned, feeling the dry dirt and misshapen pebbles beneath her bare feet. Wiggling her toes, she dislodged a particularly sharp stone.
“Why…?” Fen’Harel started, quickly noting the other occupant of the fade prison, only for his sharp eyes to snap across her body. “Have you come to me like this?” he demanded with theatrical disgust, full mouth now a thin line.
If the man was attractive, Rook could never tell. With the distance between them, a wide cavernous drop that looked hungry to take either of them in it’s waiting maw, and his near constant looks of snark and distrust, he carried no natural allure.
Now, given her state of undress, she knew he was assessing her the same and found her lacking as well.
“This isn’t a planned visit,” Rook assured, noting the chill of the fade was not too unpleasant, but gooseflesh still prickled across her bare legs. The thin mist a snake around her, slowly slithering across the barren landscape. “Seems like a deep sleep brings me before you, Dread Wolf.”
The disgust on his face deepened as he scoffed, “Have you not slept in the last fortnight?”
Rook noted that was an accurate assessment of the time between visits, now a little curious how this empty place noted the passage of time. “I’ve slept. Don’t worry your sweet self about me,” she assured with a wide smile. “Just no rogue worth her blade doesn’t sleep with an eye open while away from home on business.”
“I dislike your attachment to the Lighthouse. I may have not used it much over the last century, but I would prefer it untainted by the rabble.”
She stopped herself from asking about the aquarium, as that felt too domestic. While he may have let the Lighthouse fall into disrepair, he clearly maintained that ecosystem. Were they special fish? Needed for some rare potion or spell? Or just beloved pets?
“Well, I guess you won’t be too happy to know Neve’s found your stash of diaries in the study-”
Like a thunderous cloud, anger struck across his pale face, hands balled into fist.
He was a strange sight, dressed in armor that remained unsullied by the dust and dirt around them, taller than many other elves, head always held high, a beacon of strength even in this unsure place. It was still early in his imprisonment. Time would have him and his pride, eventually. If her human life span allowed her to see that fall, she could only wonder.
“Those are accurate, first-hand accounts of history unbiasedly told. They hold more value to the world than that detective could comprehend,” he snarled, not liking her dismissiveness of the books he clearly wrote with pride and self-importance.
“Since I’m here, I might as well ask; anything useful in them? If not, I’ll have her put them away. We don’t have time to waste her vast talents with your long-winded scribbles,” she said with an edge, wanting to dig at him. Neve was not here to defend herself and, while Rook didn’t care what elitist insults the man toss her way, her companions were off limits.
“Why would knowing the truth of history mean anything to you, human? Your kind blink and forget the lessons of your own brief life.”
Rook crossed her arms, shifting weight to one hip, making her woven shirt shift up, exposing even more of her bare thighs. The action did not bother her, as she was just stubbornly waiting for the man to give a proper answer, and it wasn’t like she could run and pull on some tights.
Solas looked away, still prudishly angry at her undress, and answered, “No, nothing relevant about the two abominations you now hunt.”
Rook nodded. “Thank you,” she said, politely, knowing she would need his wisdom, even if it came attached to his foolish pride. “I’ll have her store them safely away in the study.”
Solas calmed down a bit, still not looking at her.
Rook sighed. “So, am I stuck here? The first time I came here, I was knocked unconscious. The second I had to meditate. This time I’m in a deep sleep, right? Leaving would just be waking up?”
Solas looked at her from the corner of his sharp eyes, head still turned away. “Unfortunately, outside of meditation, it seems you cannot control your passage to and from here.”
Rook dropped her arms to her side and tossed her head back with a dramatic, aggravated sigh.
“This is such bullshit! This is the opposite of a good night’s sleep. Two weeks crawling around the crossroads finding the right magic mirror only to then scramble around cities, docks, and underwater prisons to find people willing to fight monstrous gods, and I can’t even get a proper rest?”
“Your body is resting,” Solas assured, voice holding a harsher tone than his words needed. “You can use this time to as a blessing to strategize your next move. Or stand there and pout like a child.”
“Blessing is a strong word for never being able to rest,” she countered.
“Do you know how many leaders throughout time wished they had even a single more second to think before being overwhelmed? And you would squander this extra time?” The elf was judging her harshly in the moment, seeing her lacking as a budding leader.
“How can I plan by myself?” Rook challenged, feeling defensive. “Just wake up and say, ‘hey guys, time to risk your life for a plan I made alone in my dreams?”
Solas fully turned to her, eyes holding hers with a steely gaze. “They have given you their strength to wield as a sword in this fight. How that sword pierces our enemies depends on your steady hand. How often does the sword know the thoughts of the hand? It follows and obeys. Slowing progress to converse every thought is a hinderance. Steals away unity.”
“Unity for us is transparency and communication,” she countered, mind racing to try to argue his point with the same strength of words. Rook never thought of herself as dumb, but with Neve and Solas now in her life, she was now scraping to hold her own with them with verbal exchanges.
Being a rogue, learning the shadows, fading into crowds, was comfortable, safe. Standing at the forefront of the only force against the two newly released gods-creatures was too exposed. Too naked.
“They don’t really know me,” she went on, suddenly feeling aware of how underdressed she was in her woven sleep shirt compared to his full armor. “And maybe when I have proven myself to them, they will follow my plans on trust alone, but I have to earn that.” Then, her voice became a little softer. “Wasn’t there a time like that for you, Dread Wolf?”
Solas appraised her. “And now I am known as the god of lies. So, you can tell how that all worked out.”
Confused, as that statement could be an acknowledgement of how his own secrecy led to that title, Rook let it drop. Arguing leadership styles seem pointless as she was barely a leader. Varric could heal from his lyrium wound and take over the quest once again. Though the dwarf seemed broken in his conviction, his failure with his long quest hitting him hard.
“Welp, I guess I’ll just sit here then,” Rook said, lowering herself on the ground, moving the shirt to keep what little modesty she had.
“In silence,” Solas stated, sitting down on his side of the void, back now to her.
“Works for me,” Rook agreed, hoping she could wake up soon, with her sanity intact, turning her back to him in return.
Rook did not intentionally keep herself from falling into a deep slumber. The next week found a lot on her plate. With helping the Crows investigating leads and helping plan a wake for a woman she had met once, to proving to the Shadow Dragon’s she was not a liability anymore.
It was humbling, seeing Neve, a deeply respected Shadow Dragon, talk and greet members she had only known their names in writing alone. Even Viper, who she thought they had a fine working relationship with each other, proved to have always kept her at arm’s length, not even sharing his name, Ashur, with her.
While she had joined the Shadow Dragons to stop the slave trade and the heavy abuse of the elven people, she was starting to understand her loner mentality was not an asset. It did not foster trust, her running into danger, pushing herself to the edge, when so many lives were on the line. Always used to coming out on top, Rook realized the lesson of humility was long overdue.
But that lesson was not one for the Dread Wolf to teach her, even if he was set to tear her hubris down.
“Another week of poor rest?” Solas queried, eyeing Rook as she appeared before him in the dead wasteland of the void prison. “Explains your paltry mental prowess; your brain must be a shriveled husk by now.”
“Talking to you doesn’t help,” she countered, looking down at her clothes. As Solas could look at her without nearly dying of the scandal of her nightwear, she saw she was in her tunic and leggings, feet still laced up in leather boots.
“Ah, must have fallen asleep as soon as I sat my ass on the couch,” Rook said more to herself as she realized how tired she let herself become.
“So, your state of modesty is unintended?” Solas challenged, a disapproving suck of his tongue.
Rook looked at him, seeing him still dressed the same as every previous encounter. “Who goes to bed fully dressed? You’re lucky I don’t sleep in the nude, Fen’Harel.”
Said elf looked away for a moment, making Rook wonder how little the man conversed with people when not trapped with them. From Varric’s stories, even with calling the elf a ‘friend’, that just meant Solas tolerated the dwarf’s quips and kept him alive in battle.
What does friendship even mean for a true immortal? After seeing hundreds, if not thousands, of allies die, at some point one just stopped caring, right? In his place, Rook knew she wouldn’t last long. She cared too much, too deeply, to survive that life.
Though, maybe that was unfair? Who to say he did not care deeply for all who fought alongside him? After all, it drove him to do the impossible and erect the Veil. And then continued helping fight threats throughout the years, joining the Inquisition being the most recent, leaving a huge positive impression on his then allies.
Not all of that was a lie, right?
Fen’Harel.
Dread Wolf.
God of lies, trickery, and deceit.
Maybe even Solas himself did not know what was real, after centuries of playing these games with mortals.
“Do you have no modesty, even before the man you hunted fruitlessly for a year?” he asked, tone negative and always full of judgement. “Who evaded you so expertly that you needed to run home, tail between your legs, to the Shadow Dragons. Desperate of your betters to yank your leash once more.”
Rook narrowed her eyes at the man across the void. The heavy hostility was oppressive. Coming in thick waves that would press another back into fright.
“You seem pissy, little wolf. Worry the gods will have your leash in their hands again soon? Or mad it’s currently in mine?”
The rage on his face was painfully twisted and warped, like the dead trees and roots littered around them. “You hold nothing over me!” he spat. “No matter what visions of my past you dig from the graves of the Crossroads.”
Shock crossed her face. “I didn’t mention finding-”
“You think I would not feel that intrusion?” Solas argued, voice dripping with revulsion, hatred. “Feel you push deeper and deeper, to ogle my life like a slack jawed darkspawn shown a grandiose play its mind could never comprehend.” Then, voice lower, darker. “And you take those others with you? I have come to terms your blood has bonded you to I in this way, but to make me a spectacle?”
It took a moment for Rook to find her voice.
He felt vulnerable. No, he was vulnerable.
And that terrified him.
She had access to him in a way that no one in his long life ever had before.
“Hey,” Rook called out, her instincts kicking in. How many people did she have to sit with as they battled the fear in themselves? Of slavery, of their masters, of freedom.
Of the unknown.
Rook was Solas’ unknown.
And she could taunt him, laugh at him, treat him how he was set to treat her.
But that just was not in her nature.
It did not mean she liked him or was okay with their situation, just that she never wanted to spread cruelty after seeing how far that darkness could reach.
“I didn’t know that… it just happened. I didn’t intentionally take Harding and Neve with me; they were just there.” Rook took a pointless step forward. She was still a few steps from the edge, and even then, the gap was wide. Her more stubborn side felt she could jump it, but that seemed like a bigger risk than it was worth.
If she fell in this place, was she stuck just falling until she woke? Or would she return in the future to the endless state of falling?
Also, getting closer to the Dread Wolf seemed foolish. While he might not completely hate her, none of his emotions towards her were polite.
“Just like how you have clumsily trapped me here and bound yourself to me, you randomly find yourself waltzing into pockets of my magic? All so vexingly convenient for you, Rook.”
“If my luck was harnessed into magic, I would have enough to handle these god-monsters myself,” Rook said lightheartedly. Then, with sincerity, “I am sorry about bringing the others into your memory. I understand that’s personal. And while we can’t help our new, oh so super fun, blood bond,” she held his gaze, seeing some anger settle at her words. “I can view those alone.”
Her last statement angered him again.
“So, you are going to keep prying, then?”
Rook’s brows pulled together. “Do you think I sought that memory out? Like I can’t get enough of you here? Your magic has left scars over the Crossroads. The Caretaker needs help to fix things and, unfortunately, it looks like only I can calm your wild magic.”
At that point, it finally sunk in that this was all caused, once again, by his carelessness.
“What do you mean, scars?” he asked, voice flat.
“It’s creating barriers even spirits can’t pass through. Twisting plant life around it like scabs. Drawing lesser demons with the false promise of magic. Or that was Neve’s assessment. It seemed accurate, as once the memory was dispelled it seemed… healed. Peaceful.”
The quiet that fell over them was somber. Heavy with regret from both sides of the void. While Rook knew she had no reason to feel bad about her actions, Solas was starting to feel mortal to her. In the sense he was more man than god, nothing like those abominations that were once trapped like he was now.
They may never be friends or companions. But it seemed possible he could be an ally. Someone whose words didn’t always come with the promise of a wolf’s bite.
“What progress have you made?” Solas asked, loudly clearing his throat.
Rook grinned and gave a salute. “Happy to report in, sir!”
To her surprise, that earned a very short-lived, but real, smile. “Must you?” he demanded of her antics.
Getting to business, she said, “Well, a regiment of Gray Wardens is stationed in Minrathous. With the blight involved, informing the Wardens of what’s happening is vital.”
Solas squared his shoulders, hands now behind his back, pleased to talk business. “I see your luck is holding out. When speaking to the Wardens, know they are a practical bunch. Best not to charge in yelling about elven gods.”
“While they may not be mythical, they are still revered as such. The impact of their titles is just as much a part of this battle as their blight.”
Solas raised a brow. “That is surprisingly astute of you, Rook. Yes, the fear they spread from name alone was a part of my fight centuries ago, as well.”
“Calling them ‘gods’, true or not, lessens the fear, showing that title does not stop us ‘mortals’.”
“Controlling the hope in others keeps our side alive,” he agreed.
Rook didn’t like that phrasing. “I call it ‘inspiring’ hope.”
“Semantics.”
Once again, it was clear that while they were on the same side of the coming war, they had drastically different views of people and what it meant to lead.
“You need proper rest,” Solas concluded, eyeing her from head to toe. “To go before the Wardens, you need your wits about you. What little you have.”
Rook gave a shrug. “You mean what little I have left after dealing with you? How are you standing there telling me I need rest when you rip into me right as I fall asleep? Doesn’t seem very sensible of you.”
He thought for a moment before he somewhat hesitantly asked, “Are you avoiding sleep because of I?”
Rook laughed, bright and merry. “No, no! I promise you; I’ve just been busy this week. As cranky as you are, it’s nothing dire.”
Another long moment as he stared across at her.
Huh, his eyes were gray or something lighter? Softer? It was surprising she didn’t notice sooner, as they were so vivid.
“I suppose my behavior is not… beneficial for either of us. I need you alive. Being well rested is a part of that.”
“Are you saying you’re going to be nice to me?”
Solas smirked and joked, “Sickeningly so.” She laughed again before the weirdness of it all hit them both. “In all seriousness, I shall reframe from bombarding you with questions when you first arrive.”
“I don’t mind the questions,” Rook assured. “Just tone down the hostility and I can work with everything else. I get being trapped here can be frustrating.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Hey, my ass is here too,” she pointed out. “You should have had signs up warning spilling blood binds you to a very chatty wolf.”
“I am not ‘chatty’.”
Rook snorted. “Outside of here? I believe you tried your hardest with the mysterious loner mage thing. But here? You’re bored and I’m the life of the party.”
“I am bored, and you are entertaining. Like lint floating in a spotlight of sun,” he countered.
“Ah, so simple beauty you spent your life ignoring because it is not grand enough for you, Fen’Harel? Fitting,” she teased.
Solas grew quiet once more, making her wonder of his thoughts he failed to voice, before asking, “Last time you were here, how did you pass the time?”
“Oh, I guess I would say I kind of napped? Like I wasn’t comfortable enough to sleep, not saying I could here, but just drifted off.”
“Meditation,” he quickly suggested. “You can build mental fortitude and find out truths of oneself with enough training.”
“I guess I can practice. It’s the best way to contact you when I’m awake.” Against her better judgement, she slowly asked, “Do you… sleep in here? Are you, um, comfortable?”
For a moment she thought he would snap at her, only he answered simply, “This is a prison, keep that in mind.”
“That’s vague,” she pressed, and he held up one hand, the other still behind his back.
“Do not concern yourself with those questions. They are pointless.”
Since he was set on not answering, she just shrugged, dropping the question.
After that, they both settled down in quiet meditation. This time both facing the other.