i love you, he whispers to her, and there is something so calming about his cadence that settles her, eases her heart. two years his absence had brought nothing but pain for her: the sealing of the breach, corypheus' defeat . . . it was supposed to be an end, but there had been nothing left. her clan dead, solas gone, she had thrown herself into the inquisition, continued to make peace in thedas, settling disputes, reclaiming land, playing the stupid grand game. slowly her friends had dwindled, all left to return to their lives, and it was her, alone in the big empty fortress that had so short ago felt like a new home, turned cold and uninviting.
he kisses her again, hungry, and vhen'ara is dizzy with it, following his lips when he eventually breaks it. she's never gotten this from him, and the parts of her that had accepted his chastity and taken care of herself, that had died the minute he turned from her in crestwood and again when he was gone, are roared to life at his sudden immodesty. i would not lay with you under false pretenses. not while he lied to her about who he was, but there are no lies between them now, nothing kept in the dark. there is something freeing in that, a burden on her heart that had made her feel undesirable that lifts at the taste of him. he stands, helping her up, and when vhen'ara takes his hand, she doesn't let go.
“ cikdall, ” she repeats, eyes on the eluvian behind them as it glimmers with power, ready to take them like a mother opening their arms. he brings her hand up to kiss at her knuckles, and she replaces the eluvian in her gaze with him. he seems to much more peaceful now, so much more at ease. he aims to take the veil down, what he has put up, intent on correcting his mistakes. vhen'ara had seen first hand his strength during the inquisition, his prowess on the field, his intelligence translating easily from tomes and scrolls to battle preparation, a dexterity with a staff that she admired. creators, the dalish got him wrong.
the inquisition cannot find you there. she looks one last time behind her at the ruins, the silhouettes of stone - made qunari, their statues adding to the eerie quality that elvhen ruins always had, something ancient and sad. the inquisition will not find her, a clutching at her chest at the thought. she never wanted the position, and she has lost so much from it, but there had been so much gained as well. to put it behind her? to desert the force she spent four years leading and building, the last home she had known? what would they think of her?
what do they think of you now? mind supplies images of the portraits of her, hiding her ears, her vallaslin wrong, wide elvhen eyes scaled down. they had made her more human, more palatable, more common, so as everyone could see themselves in her. an elf will stand for us all, but she had been wrong. vhen'ara turns back to solas, holding tight to his hand. “ i'm ready, ” she answers. if they would not let their precious inquisitor, their herald, be an elf, then an elf would stand for the elves, and she lets him guide her through the eluvian.