Chapter Text
And so we burned.
We raised nations, we waged wars,
We dreamed up false gods, great demons
Who could cross the Veil into the waking world,
Turned our devotion upon them, and forgot you.
-Threnodies 1:8
Errol paced nervously outside of Cullen's door. She had already briefed her advisors as to the horrors of the Western Approach - the Warden warriors dead on the ground, the mages bound mind and body to Corypheus and the demons they summoned. It had been a bloodbath, one Errol was glad to be far away from. Now Hawke and Alistair were scouting out Adamant Fortress, and she feared that only more death and destruction lay ahead.
But first, there was this. Somehow more terrifying than any battle, because in a battle she could only die, but here she'd keep living, knowing she'd thrown her chance of happiness away.
Selfish, selfish, a voice scolded inside of her, and she knew it was right. Who was she to be worrying about her love life when the whole world was at stake. She was petty and selfish, a little girl playing at being a hero.
"It's not selfish to want to be happy," Cole's soft voice said. "When it's darkest is when we most need the sun. You don't have to do this."
She nodded, not even looking at him. "He'll see you now, so stay outside and listen. If he… if it's really bad, I'll give the signal, and you'll come in and make him forget."
"Yes."
Errol nodded again, tugging up the high collar of her coat, the one that safely covered the mark on her neck, and knocked on his door. She heard a muffled "Come in" and placed her hand on the cool wood, steeling herself. Then she pushed.
Cullen was standing over his desk and staring at a small open box. When he saw her he straightened and rubbed the back of his neck, looking pained.
"I was hoping it would be you," he said, crossing the room and taking her hand. He then surprised her by bowing and gently kissing it. "You are well? What happened in the Western Approach was… disturbing, to say the least."
"I'm fine," she said, blushing a little at his gentlemanly actions. "I mean, I'm not fine, but you know… I'm fine."
He laughed a little, but it sounded pained. "I do know."
"Cullen, is there…"
Still holding her hand, he led her to one of two chairs set up in the middle of the room. "I… have something I need to tell you. Will you sit with me?"
"Of course," she said, sinking down into the chair. He sat directly across from her, so close their knees were almost touching. "Are you okay?"
He ran a hand through his hair. His stubble was back; he looked scruffier than usual, and there were shadows under his eyes. "I don't know." He cast his gaze back to the open box on his desk. "Lyrium grants templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer - some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the templars here, but I… no longer take it."
Errol reached over and gripped his hand. "Cullen, why? When?"
"When I joined the Inquisition. It's been months now."
"Months? It's been over a year! You could die!"
"I haven't yet," he said, softly squeezing her hand. "After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn't… I will not be bound to the Order - or that life - any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it." He sighed, then sat back, drawing his hand away from hers. He didn't meet her eyes. "But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I've asked Cassandra to… watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty."
"That won't be necessary," she said immediately. "You've come this far, you've been without for a year and you're still standing. That's got to mean something."
"You put far too much trust in my abilities," he said. She scowled.
"You put far too little."
He exhaled and sat up again. "Perhaps. Either way, thank you for the support. I was… worried about telling you. It's why—" He was quiet for a moment, then shook his head as if banishing dark thoughts. "I believe you had something you wished to discuss with me as well?"
Errol took a shaking breath. "Oh, yes. I… are you sure you have time? This could be a lot to process."
"I do. Are you all right?"
Now she was the one who wouldn't meet his eyes. "I'm… no. I'm not. I've been keeping something from you and I probably would have kept it from you forever except that I… care about you and I… we can't be together if I don't…" She cut off abruptly. This was even harder than she expected. "Please, Cullen, no matter what you think of me, even if you don't want to be with me, just please promise you won't be afraid of me. I couldn't take it. What I'm about to say changes nothing. I'm still me. Please remember that."
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Your building this up isn't helping any. What's going on?"
Errol took a deep breath and clenched her hands over her knees. "When I crossed over from my world, I thought I just… stepped across the Breach, like through a door. I thought I was a mage. But I'm not. Crossing over didn't give me mage powers. It… tore my soul from my body and reformed it from the Fade. My real body is still in my world, hanging on by a thread, senseless and almost dead."
He had gone pale. "I don't— what are you saying?"
"Cullen, I'm a spirit."
He stood abruptly, knocking his chair over. "No, that's not possible. You're here, you're real, I've touched you, seen you bleed, sweat, eat, sleep—"
"Yes, like Cole," she said, still sitting. "Except not. He's a spirit like you're used to, a concept, Compassion, who made himself flesh. I'm a person, a woman, but my form… it's not my real body. It's made of the Fade. That's why I can do magic. Solas says that when my body dies in my world I'll become even more spirit-like. I'm trying to find a way to stop that from happening, to ground myself in reality like Cole has."
"Solas," he said sharply. "Solas knows?"
"He's the one who figured it out."
"Who else?"
"Cole. Anyone else would think I'm a demon."
"Of course they would!" he said, pacing now. "You're not even human! Forget becoming an abomination, you could become a demon!"
"That's why Solas has been training me—"
He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers on his temples. "Maker's breath. Our Inquisitor, a spirit. We'd be ruined if anyone found out. It's always something, isn't it."
"Cullen—"
"You should have told me before."
His voice was sharp and cold. Against her will, Errol felt tears well up in her eyes. "I didn't know how you'd react."
"Not well, obviously. What if someone—" He paused and turned to her. "Cassandra," he said flatly. "She found out, didn't she? The day of the storm. And someone… Cole. Is Cole lurking here somewhere, in case I reacted too violently, waiting to make me forget?"
She just stared at him and he shook his head. "Maker. How much you must trust me."
"I trusted Cassandra and she drew her sword on me. She called me a demon."
"I'm not Cassandra," he snapped. "I thought you knew that. But then again, I thought I knew you."
She stood and tried to approach him. "Cullen," she said again. "Please, I'm still me. I'm still the same person as before." She reached out but he backed away.
"Stop. You're not flesh. You… I don't even know what you are. I won't tell anyone about you, but I can't… I can't, Errol. You're not human."
His words stung like a slap to the face. Tears flooded her eyes. "So he was right," she whispered. "The ex-templar who only just came to see mages as people. I have a mother and father, I have a body, I have no control over how I came here, I didn't choose this. And I am human, you ass! I have a heart like you and I bleed like you and I lo—" She was crying messily now, her face red. "I really thought that you—" She couldn't stand there and embarrass herself anymore. She ran to the door and slammed it behind her.
Cole was standing there, looking uncomfortable. "Do you want me to—" he started, and she shook her head.
"If he even starts to seriously consider telling anyone, wipe it all," she said. "Until then, let him keep it. This is how people see me. I needed to do this."
"He won't tell," Cole said, and she threw her arms around him.
"Please help me get back to my rooms without anyone seeing me," she said, and he nodded.
"If it will help the hurt."
The unfortunate effect of Cole being more human was that it was now harder for him to be sneaky. People remembered him, and even though they took back ways and unused paths to her chambers, word somehow still got out that the spirit boy was half-carrying the sobbing Inquisitor.
By the end of the next day, everyone knew that she hadn't left her rooms yet, and whispers were flitting through the top ranks. Errol knew, instinctively, that they were talking about her. She'd been in her room for 30 hours, with only the serving girls allowed to bring her food and draw her baths and take her paperwork. She knew they must be worried. She just didn't care. She still completed and sent out her reports like a good little Inquisitor. That's what mattered, in the long run.
She sprawled on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She knew she couldn't wallow forever - they were leaving for Adamant in a few days time, once the siege equipment was secured, to strike at the Grey Wardens before they could summon their demon army. But until then she was stuck at Skyhold, and she didn't want to talk to anyone. What was the point? They'd all think she was a monster if they knew the truth. They weren't truly her friends.
Errol sighed and rolled over. She missed the music of her home. She missed her mom's cooking, her brother crashing on her couch, she missed giggling with Jules and movie nights, she missed sitting on the back porch and drinking whisky with her dad, she missed cheesecake and fried chicken and donuts, waking up late on a Sunday morning and browsing the internet with her pajamas on, Seattle in the springtime, being safe, being human, never having to worry about killing people or saving the world. She missed all of it.
She didn't even know the lock had been picked until the shadows fell over her bed.
"Oy, Herald Lady, you're bringing us down."
She looked up to see Sera and Dorian both standing there with crossed arms. She scowled at them. "I'm fine, and apparently my room desperately needs a new lock."
"I didn't ask if you were okay," Sera said dismissively. "And get all the locks you want, I'll still pick 'em. We've come 'cause this place is boring and we need you."
"Don't get me wrong, I am concerned for your welfare," Dorian said. "But… yes, what she said. Ever since you returned from the Western Approach it's as if we're preparing for our own funerals, and I am far too young and handsome to die, especially at a rotten old shithole like Adamant. We come to you in desperation, Inquisitor."
She sat up and wrinkled her nose. "What can I do?"
Dorian nodded at her iPod. "That device. It plays music. Of a sort."
Errol nodded, wary, and Sera pumped a fist in the air.
"So I say, dance party!" the elf squealed. "We've already invited everyone. Show us all a taste of your fancy world. I want to try dancing to that weird shite you were playing a few weeks ago. Anything's better than that boring minstrel who keeps writing songs about me. Creepy, that."
Errol blinked. "You… want a dance party with my music? Tonight?"
"In two hours," Dorian said. "So I'd say you'd best bathe, eat, and choose the music wisely. We'll be ready and waiting at the tavern with drinks. I'll help with the amplifying spells. Take everyone's mind off this whole dreary Warden business."
"Hurry hurry!" Sera said, then grabbed Dorian's arm and skipped out of the room and down the stairs before Errol could protest.
Errol groaned and flopped back down on the bed. A dance party? Now? With her music? Most of the people here wouldn't recognize what she listened to as music at all. How would they dance to it? Obviously the first order of business would have to be to get everyone drunk.
She rolled onto her stomach and picked up her iPod, scrolling through it with a frown on her face. This was going to be a challenge.
Errol slowed as she passed Solas' room - the door was open, and through it she could just catch a glimpse of his amazing paintings, now over half finished.
She sighed and unconsciously reached up to touch her high-necked vest - worn over a billowing silk shirt, it was low and laced at the front with a neckline that rose up nearly to her jaw, perfectly covering the mark that looked so much like an animal bite. He was right all along. If only he wasn't so maddeningly hot and cold, so unfathomable, inhuman, so… Solas.
A hand caught her wrist from behind. "Inquisitor… Errol."
The man himself. "Solas!" she said, surprised, then shook her head. "You were right, okay? You can gloat later. I'm late."
"I have no wish to gloat. As much as it may not seem like it, I am not happy to be right about these kinds of things. Are you well?"
His voice was soft and solicitous, more like the Solas she first knew than the one she had been seeing lately. She turned and let him intertwine his fingers with hers. "I'm fine," she said. "Really. Sad, but… I was prepared for it, because of you. Really, I wasn't so much wallowing because of him, it was because of… everyone. Knowing that would be everyone's response. Finding out for certain that all of the people you would die for would think you're a monster really gets you down."
"Not all," he said, squeezing her hand. "You're not alone, Errol. You have Cole. And you have me."
She squeezed back. "Thank God for that." She smiled a little, the ghost of a smile. "Are you coming to the party tonight?"
"I don't think—"
"There will be lots of music from my world. It'll be a great chance to study my culture while also quietly judging the rest of the Inquisition."
His mouth quirked upward. "Perhaps I will stop by."
"Good," she said. "I'd like to see you there."
He merely nodded and released her hand, and she turned and made her way out the front door and down the steps toward the tavern.
It was already packed, the party in full swing. Everyone was there, except, it seemed, for Cullen. She scanned the room, searching for his distinctive build and hair, but knew in an instant that he wasn't there. Even Leliana and Josephine were sipping wine in the corner, waiting for her, curious as to the music of her world. The rest of them were half-drunk already, even Blackwall, and Sera, Dorian and Bull were more than half.
"Inky!" Sera exclaimed as she walked in. "Finally! I've been drinking for you!" She hiccuped. "Let's get this party started!"
Errol accepted a drink and downed it in one gulp, then turned around and accepted one from Iron Bull, wincing as it burned down her throat. He laughed and pounded her on the back.
"What was that?" she gasped.
"Just a little something to catch you up to the rest of us!" he boomed. "Now I was promised music!"
She placed her iPod on the fireplace mantel and put a protection spell on it; then, with the help of Dorian, cast amplifying spells around the room. Whatever Iron Bull and Sera had given her was already starting to set in, and she was grinning goofily as she found the playlist and selected it.
"Oh yeah!" Iron Bull yelled as "Hooked on a Feeling" began to play. "I like this Ooga Chaka!"
Errol grabbed Sera and spun her around, then ran for Blackwall and pulled him in too, and by the end of the song everyone was raising their tankards and shouting: "IIIIIIIIIIIII'M HOOKED ON A FEELING! I'M HIGH ON BELIEVING! THAT YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH MEEEEEEEE!"
As they continued to drink, she played "September" by Earth, Wind & Fire and led them in some makeshift disco dancing (Varric really got into it), while later it turned out that Cassandra enjoyed Journey the most (once she learned the words she couldn't stop belting out "DON'T STOP BELIEVING! HOLD ON TO THAT FEEEEEELING!")
Errol moved between partners and danced with everyone during Olly Murs "Dance With Me Tonight," Iron Bull stomping his feet and Varric still attempting to disco, while Sera just swung herself around with abandon and Cassandra kept asking if she could play more Journey.
It wasn't until "You Make My Dreams Come True," by Hall & Oates that Errol looked up and saw Solas lounging on the balcony, watching everyone with elbows resting on the banister, a small smile on his face. She beamed at him as she danced, and motioned for him to join them. He shook his head, but continued to watch her with tender eyes, and between the alcohol and the dancing and music and heartbreak Errol found herself wanting to just rest in him for a moment, in someone who knew what she was and accepted her.
He was right. For all of his damning qualities, his lies and manipulations, she did want him, because he wanted her, and now with Cullen's rejection…
Her heart gave an almost painful thump, and suddenly his expression changed from relaxed fondness to one of confusion and then utter panic. He waved his hand, and suddenly all of the lights went out.
Everyone started bumping into each other and talking.
"What's going on?" Cassandra asked, a bit woozily.
Errol felt long fingers close on her wrist. "We must leave. Now," Solas' voice said into her ear.
"Just a little lighting malfunction, it'll be up again in a minute," Errol said loudly as he began to drag her away. "Anyway, keep having fun, don't touch the barrier around the device unless you're Dorian or you'll be shocked, and I gotta run. Bye!"
They made their way in the darkness to the door. The minute they were outside Solas took off running, dragging her behind him.
"What's going on?" she gasped. "Where are we going?"
He didn't answer, just kept moving, up a flight of stairs and around the side of the building until they were in the gardens. The gardens were deserted at this time of night, but he didn't stop until he led her into the furthest, darkest corner.
"What's going on?" she asked again when he finally dropped her hand. Her back was to a large white pillar so completely shadowed she could barely see anything except his eyes, which glowed slightly.
Without saying a word, he reached out and touched one of her ears.
She gasped, then touched the other herself. "I'm an elf? Are we dreaming?"
"We're very much awake," he said huskily. "You changed form in the middle of the tavern. Luckily I managed to darken the room before anyone noticed." He gently tugged at her hair. "Your hair has grown as well. It's past your shoulders, just as it is in the Fade."
"How?" She couldn't help but notice that he didn't remove his hand from her hair; instead he coiled it through his fingers.
"I told you before: you have no set form now. It's what you expect or want to be. For some reason, perhaps due to the emotional upheaval in the last days, you had a moment when you wanted to be as you are with me in the Fade." He didn't sound upset.
She wasn't going to let that slide. "You sound almost happy about it."
"Not happy, not exactly," he said after a moment of thought. "It's dangerous to change form simply because of a passing emotion. We must work more on your control. Had I not been there… well, it would be difficult even for Cole to wipe the memory of every single person in that room."
"But…" she pressed.
"But," he said, sliding his hand from her hair to run his fingers along her sensitive ear. "It does give me pleasure knowing that you changed to this form."
"Don't think," she said stiffly, trying to stifle the tingles of pleasure radiating from her core. "Don't… think it's because of you."
He leaned in, his breath tickling her other ear. "It's absolutely because of me," he said softly. "You wanted me, and that desire manifested itself physically in this form. Denying the truth does not make it any less the truth." He slid his free hand down her side and cupped her bottom, swiftly locking her hips to his so that she knew how hard he was. She made a small noise in the back of her throat and instinctually thrust against him, and the friction felt so good it was sinful. "Now, Inquisitor," he continued almost conversationally, "can you claim you don't want me? Or if I slipped my hand into your small clothes would I find you soaking wet? Shall we call it an experiment?"
"Solas," Errol gasped, as his tongue slowly began to make its way across her ear. She was trembling like a leaf. There was a void inside of her that was begging to be filled and she didn't care by who. She gave in. "Yes, please."
"Hmmm?" he asked, unlacing her vest and letting it drop to the ground, exposing the mark on her neck. He kissed his way down to it, then slowly traced it with his teeth, as if reminding her who had given it to her. He bit it again, just a little, and the magic flared, sending shock waves through her body. She moaned and his mouth was on hers, swallowing it up.
"Shhh," he whispered when they broke apart. "You must stay quiet. Now, what do you want me to do?"
"Touch me," she whispered back. "Please."
"As my Inquisitor commands," he murmured, and then his mouth was back on hers again and his hands were working on the clasps of her shirt, sliding them open and then lifting her bra so he could fill his palm with one of her breasts and gently pinch and roll her nipple.
Errol was so focused on the sensation that she hadn't even realized his other hand was undoing the ties on her breeches until it slipped inside and touched her. He grinned against her lips. "So I was right," he breathed. "Soaked."
"Solas," she whimpered as he slid one, then two fingers inside of her. "Oh, God." Words failed her as he used his thumb to circle her clit. She began to rock back and forth, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. Gently, he bent his head and drew a nipple into his mouth as her nails raked his back nearly hard enough to tear through his tunic.
His touch was light, almost delicate, his fingers long and precise as they worked her over, as if he’d done it a thousand times. If she had the presence of mind to think she would wonder how it could be that this introverted, isolated Fade-obsessed elf was so damn good at taking her apart piece by piece, but her mind was white static as he brought her carefully to the brink and then moved away, as if they were dancing.
Her clit throbbed like a second heartbeat as he once again almost brought her relief, the fingers inside of her not enough, she was aching and empty and the very idea of being filled almost brought her to completion.
"I want," she cried softly, bucking her hips, and he smoothed damp hair from her forehead.
"I know what you want," he breathed. His blue eyes were very close to hers, and in the dark they looked like a cat’s. “The question is, are you finally willing to let yourself have it?”
Errol felt as if she was balancing on a precipice, carefully poised between then and soon, what was and what would be. She knew, she knew, this was stupid. She knew he was more than he seemed; she knew he was secretive, jealous, dangerous. And yet . . .
And yet.
He knew her. He saw her. He wasn’t afraid. He didn’t call her monster, or abomination, or demon. He said that what she was was good. Special. Could he be right? Could she have this, pleasure and devotion and power, could she reach out and take it like plucking fruit from a tree?
She didn’t know, but at this moment, in the quiet of the garden with his eyes so raw and his fingers like magic, she wanted to try.
Errol seized him by the front of his tunic and kissed him.
He kissed her back, hard, and she could feel him smiling against her skin. A moment later she felt her feet swept out from under her, and then Solas laid her in the thick grass that smelled of mint and elfweed. He worked her boots and lower clothing off, until she lay bare before him in just her open shirt.
He surveyed her with a hunger strong enough that it made the air feel thick and close, as if just before a storm. Even without touching her she felt him, his magic simmering on her skin.
“You’re a goddess,” he murmured, and the intensity was just enough to make her self-conscious.
“How come I’m the only one naked here?” she asked. “The least you could do is take off your shirt.”
He smiled, his teeth a little sharp in the darkness. “Next time,” he promised. He slid one hand up her inner leg and she parted it easily, her body still tightly wound, a fuse in desperate search for a spark. “For now, everything is perfect.”
Errol wanted to offer up some token protest at his assumption that there would be a next time, but then he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, and then another, and another, and then all thought fled her head.
She hadn’t had someone’s mouth on her in a very, very long time, and it had never felt like this. There was no more holding back or teasing; his tongue traced glyphs against her skin, and when they went off she came, whimpering his name like a chant, her fingers digging into his back, trying to be quiet. Fingers curled inside of her, he didn’t let her come back down, only backed off just so that she could catch her breath before gently sucking on her just hard enough to send her spiraling into another orgasm.
“I do love to hear you say my name like that,” he said. He wiped his mouth and lifted his head, and when he moved up her body it was taut and controlled, like a great predator. “It seems you finally understand how I have felt all of these months.” He lowered his mouth to her right ear. “I told you to never say never.”
“It must be so hard,” she gasped out as he traced the scar on her neck with his teeth. “Being right all the time.”
He laughed, low and wicked. “It’s a terrible burden.”
He was conceited but he was right – she ached for him. She felt as if all of the unending pleasure had fried her brain until all that was left was the desperation for the next hit. She wanted him inside of her, her toes curled at the thought of it, and when he pressed hot against her, somehow freed from the confines of his pants, she wrapped a leg around him, urging him on.
His hands slid to her wrists, pinning her hands on either side of her head, and then, right at the moment he finally slid into her, he bit the scar, hard enough to hurt.
But it didn’t hurt. The magic was a dam bursting, flooding her as he filled her, their bodies rising and falling like waves upon the shore. Errol was fairly certain she was out of her mind, or out of her body, every point of her body compressed into and bursting with pleasure. She wanted to cry out but could make no sound, magic wound tight around them, cloaking them to maintain the quiet of the garden. Was that where she was? She could be on Mars for all it mattered.
When it ended, when she came down from the sky and sank once again into her facsimile of a body, that was when the panic set in. She looked at him, already tucked away, prim and proper; he was buttoning her long white shirt with agile fingers, as if knowing that she’d instantly feel too exposed nude, and the tender gesture made her feel a very small amount better.
Still. Fuck.
“We . . .” she started as he finished the buttoning, then trailed off. The shirt fell to the top of her thighs, in what could be considered a club-appropriate dress back on Earth. She sat up, hair spilling over one shoulder, barefoot and bare legged. “I . . . that was . . . it wasn’t . . . we shouldn’t have . . .”
Solas helped her to her feet. “I’ve found that you tend to anxiety and regret,” he said, tucking a newly-long blonde strand behind her ear. “You need not. What’s done is done; dwelling won’t change that.” He tipped her chin up to look into her eyes, more serious than she’d ever seen him. “I will not leave you now.”
Something about his tone sounded vaguely ominous, but she was comforted nonetheless. She realized she’d fear he might, that he was only interested in the chase, the hunt, that she would see him the next day and he’d treat her with indifference.
And yet . . . this shouldn’t have happened. This wasn’t how this night was supposed to end. How had this happened? How had she let it get so far? Damn damn damn damnit!
“See?” he said. “Anxiety.”
Voices rose at the end of the garden and their heads jerked to the sound.
“I knew they were not in the main hall,” Cassandra’s voice said snappily. She sounded harried. “And searching Leliana’s tower was sheer madness. We’ve wasted precious time—”
“Ah Seeker, I’m sure they’re fine,” Varric said breezily. Cassandra sniffed.
“If I didn’t know any better, dwarf, I’d think you didn’t want us to find them.”
“Who me?” he asked innocently. “I’m the soul of worry.”
The voices grew steadily closer. “I’m afraid we are out of time,” Solas said. “I will distract them; dress quickly and take the back path to your quarters.”
She seized his wrist. “Solas, I—”
He turned and kissed her, a light, innocent press of lips. “We will talk tomorrow. Now go, unless you wish to explain to the Seeker why you’re without your trousers.”
Errol complied, struggling into her pants as she half-walked, half-hopped into Skyhold and the dark, empty hallways that would lead her to her room. Her heart beat a thousand drumbeats a minute, her mouth still hot and tasting of him.
What had she done?
What the hell had she done?