Solavellan Week - Day Three
Regrets of the Dread Wolf/Hindsight
"Regret is such a short word... and yet it stretches on forever." - Ranata Suzuki
Solas: "<...> and when I served the Inquisition, I tried to avoid... entanglements."
Senka: "Except for Inquisitor Lavellan."
Solas: "I said that I resolved to do so. Not that I succeeded. She is a good woman. Growing close to her was... selfish of me."
Senka: "Do you regret it?"
Solas: "I live with countless regrets. Some of them I have grown to cherish more than my victories."
[Counter viewpoint to the same moment in this fic: Poisoned Theory]
The moment Rook broke her meditation and vanished from the Fade, Solas fell to his knees, his heart in his throat. He couldn't breathe; emotion choked him, and tears distorted his vision; the mask of the Dread Wolf shattered.
In the wake of her departure, Rook's words echoed within the rocky chasm that he had long since torn between them. The Fade had moved effortlessly with his will, keeping him separate from the pawn he had to utilize. If Solas had been of a mind to, he would have appreciated the poetic symbolism of having once more created an obstacle to force himself to maintain distance from the world.
As it was, her words haunted him, clinging like a spirit unaware of its passing. Hands on his thighs, he swayed forward, a terrible sob wrenching from his chest as his shoulders heaved.
The whisper was broken, laced with an immense yearning and heavy with boundless adoration as it fell from his lips.
Here in this desolate prison of regret, his worship was no longer chained by any form of restraint, and he poured himself into every memory. The curve of her full lips when she smiled. The slight tilt of her head as she listened solemnly to anyone speaking with her. Fair. Just. Kind. She was...
"... a rare and marvelous spirit..."
His declaration reverberated in the stillness around him, the memory of Crestwood sharp and cutting. They were a truth that he had once offered to her in an apology, overshadowed by love, even as he had backed away. These words, now a hymn sung alone and in praise of a woman who was as unique as she was divine, were an offering painted in desperate entreaty and unquenching hope.
The very idea of regretting his time with Lavellan was repulsive. Selfish as he may now consider his actions, he could not, nor would he ever, lament his time with the woman who yet sheltered his spirit. She was always accepting and understanding, patient as she cradled his heart, and passionate as they both stoked the bonfire of their beings.
To say that he regretted her would be an outright lie. A lie that he was incapable of telling. She deserved better, and he would never deny his love for her. His was a love that grew, never diminishing, and was as eternal as the man himself.
Could he ever regret the taste of her lips? Or the scent of her skin as his nose brushed along her cheek when he deepened their kisses? The feel of her in his arms, fire and passion softened by love, burned him in a way he thought never to experience. She gave of herself and took of him in equal measure without reservation and with a deep reverence. Could he regret the sound of her soft, lilting laughter, more entrancing than any song? Or the faint blush that stole along her cheeks when he had leaned closer to share a bit of knowledge, his hand resting on the small of her back?
No. There was nothing of her to regret.
If there was any contrition sharpening the edges of his heart, it was for HIS actions. For walking away, for the pain in her eyes, for the confusion reflected back at him in the embrace of her sadly bewildered gaze.
Hands clenching into tight fists, Solas pushed himself to stand.
Anguish may well be his constant in this pocket of the Fade, but it was her face that gave him hope.
GIF Set - "Regret is such a short word... and yet it stretches on forever."
Screenshots - "Regret is such a short word... and yet it stretches on forever."
Every time he walked away from Lavellan, he added to the pool of his regret.
