Chapter Text
Solas leaned heavily on the staff Ellana had brought him, the wood smooth and unfamiliar under his palm. His steps were slower than he would have liked as he moved through the Lighthouse, its ancient halls echoing with whispers of voices he had tried to leave behind.
He stopped at the sound of footsteps—light, deliberate. A child’s footsteps.
She appeared at the edge of his vision, the afternoon light spilling in behind her. The resemblance struck him first: the line of her jaw, the cheekbones, all his. But her eyes burned like embers, all Ellana, unyielding in a way that had brought great enemies to their knees.
She stopped just shy of him, her posture erect, almost defiant. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence stretching between them like a drawn bow.
“You’re not as tall as I thought,” Haleira said finally, her voice steady and too sharp for someone her age.
Solas huffed a soft, mirthless laugh. “And you are not as small as I imagined.”
Her brow furrowed, but she said nothing, her eyes scanning him as if assessing the extent of his injuries. He let her look. He had nothing to hide, not from her. Not anymore.
“You knew about me,” she said, the statement more accusation than question.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t come.”
“No.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. For all the cool strength she seemed to carry in her small frame, she was still a child—his child—navigating the raw hurt of abandonment.
“I protected you,” he offered quietly. “I was there when you dreamed. I—”
“The wolf,” she interrupted, folding her arms. “I remember. But you never stayed.”
He closed his eyes, his heart heavy in his chest. His regrets had nearly drowned this world mere hours ago; here he stood before one of his worst. “I could not. My presence would have drawn… unwanted attention. I would have put you at risk.”
“That’s convenient,” she said, her voice flat. “For you.”
Solas opened his eyes to find her staring him down, her red gaze piercing. He had faced ancient gods, armies, and the fury of the Inquisitor herself, but her intensity was staggering.
“You resent me,” he said softly. “That is fair.”
“I watched my mother from afar when I was very young,” she said firmly. “Bleeding for you, over and over. Hugging her through armor, hearing her argue and tear apart your things for clues. I grew up looking at your murals and wondering why the best woman I knew wasn’t enough for you. That’s hard to forget.”
Her words struck him like a blade, each syllable twisting deeper than the archdemon. He wanted to argue, to explain, but what defense did he have against the truth?
“I am sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her expression didn’t change. She didn’t forgive him, not yet, perhaps not ever. But she stepped closer, and the tension in her shoulders eased just a fraction.
“I know what you did,” she said suddenly, her tone matter-of-fact. “I felt it.”
“You’ll need to be more specific, I’m afraid.”
“You tied your life force to the Veil. I know you wanted to be rid of it.”
Solas stiffened. It was not something he had expected her to speak of so plainly.
“I experimented and I can still manipulate it despite this change,” she continued, as if discussing the weather. “If I concentrate, I can make it thin enough for spirits to pass through. It was easier with the evanuris here, but they came through jarred and corrupted. They’re more at peace now.”
He blinked, caught off guard by her boldness. “You can weaken the Veil?”
“Only in certain places. There are a lot of factors.” She hesitated for the first time, the faintest flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. “But it works. There are settlements—new ones that Mother set up. Some of them are already coexisting with spirits, like the old stories of Arlathan. No barriers. No fear. Elves and spirits living side by side. I thought you would have noticed, but perhaps you’ve been distracted.”
Her gaze darted to him, searching his face for a reaction, though her tone remained carefully neutral.
“I thought you’d want to know now, at least,” she said, trying to sound indifferent. “In case it affects your new situation.”
Solas’ chest ached, and it had nothing to do with his injuries. Her words were impressive enough on their own, but the flicker of pride in her eyes, the way she straightened her shoulders as if daring him to challenge her, was what truly struck him.
“Your achievements are extraordinary for your age,” he said, his voice softer than he intended.
“I know,” she replied quickly, though the faintest hint of color rose in her cheeks.
“Tell me more,” he urged, daring to step closer.
She hesitated, still guarded but drawn in by his interest. “I’ve been studying the best I can with my resources. Spirits. The Fade. All of it. It’s easy for me to talk to them—they listen. They want to help, most of them. The others…” She shrugged. “I know how to make them go away too.”
“You’ve inherited more than I thought,” Solas murmured, half to himself.
Her expression hardened. “Not from you. I taught myself.”
He inclined his head, accepting the sting of her words without protest. “Of course. It is no small feat.”
He wanted to tell her he was proud of her, but what would it mean coming from him? She wasn’t asking for it, and she didn’t need it.
“I look forward to learning from you,” she said smoothly, her hands tucked behind her back. “If you have the time to teach me. You have quite the blight to clean up first, I think.”
“I will make time, da’len,” he vowed, straightening out as much as his broken body would allow. Finally, something was being asked of him he could offer.
“You are a stranger to me, Solas,” she stepped back, her eyes drifting off, as if she didn’t wish him to see something vulnerable within them. “I hope in time you will be a mentor. I will ask you not to presume further than that.”
Solas watched her turn to leave, her auburn curls bouncing with each step.
“Haleira,” he called after her.
She stopped but didn’t look back.
“I will not hurt her again.”
She didn’t reply, but the slight lift of her shoulders told him she had heard.
When she was gone, Solas exhaled at last. He had earned her distrust, her guardedness, her ire. And still, she had come to him. Not as a daughter, but as a child of Elvhenan, proud to wield her birthright and desperate for knowledge. He could hope for no more, and deserved less. For now, all he could do was keep his promises, one day at a time.