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As she kneels on the coarse ground, wind blowing ash and the smell of blood to her, Lavellan closes her eyes and she remembers.
She remembers the stages of her life, from her first rush of magic through her veins, to the engraving of her vallaslin on her face in celebration of becoming First. She remembers her silent footsteps as she stole her way into the Conclave and the roaring of the explosion as it engulfed everyone. She remembers her awakening as a heathen to the chantry, then her transition into Inquisitor. She remembers their battles and losses, as well as their joys and triumphs.
And of course, she remembers him.
Gentle caresses of her face, quiet embraces in a small alcove. Kisses so fleeting but honey sweet, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a slow dance. The quiet comfort of having him watch over her during battle, yet the heat of his gaze as they lay together.
“Vhenan,” she whispers, and opens her eyes.
First, she sees blood. She does not mistake it for anyone else’s but her own, despite the many bodies strewn across the battlefield. It was their final stand, one last push in an attempt to stop him. And now, she has been struck -- she will not make it out of this battle alive.
She tilts her head, and she sees him walking towards her. She sees his face, contorted with sadness yet resigment, and she is hit by a strong pang of longing. She had hoped there was another way, that it would not have had to come to this.
In another world.
“My love,” Solas says when he reaches her, getting to his knees in front of her. For a moment, his presence is so overwhelming she wavers in her spot, but he catches her, holding onto her shoulder with one hand and cupping her face with the other.
“I have missed you,” she says honestly, lifting her own arm to hold his waist, leaning against him with a sigh.
He presses a kiss to her brow, and she feels the soft patter of his tears on her cold skin. “I wish you had stayed away.”
“I could not have. Ma ghilana, vhenan.” She lifts her head, staring at the blue eyes she had sorely missed, the ones that have haunted her in her sleep. Solas holds himself differently now, and there is no longer has the lingering smell of paper in his clothes, but there is familiarity being in his arms. She wants to cherish this for as long as she can.
He lets out a broken sob, and moves his face closer to hers. Their lips meet, and she melts into it, etching the memory of him into her soul. He pulls her closer to him, holds her tighter in his embrace, as though he wishes he could hold onto her. If she could, she would have frozen time in that moment forever. A moment with no wrongs to right, no lives to mourn. All that mattered was the two of them, keeping close.
But it was a wish, nothing more, and she had no more power than she did when the mark was taken from her. They have but a mere moment, a flicker in time, and it will have to end, like all things do.
Life will march on.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against her lips, and he is shaking as he holds her against him. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Shh, my love, it will be alright.” Her own tears start to fall, and she parts away just enough to look into his eyes. She wavers slightly, and it feels like her voice is starting to grow softer, the loud silence in her ears is getting louder. But she fights it. There is something she still has to do.
He lets out a cry of agony, but she presses another kiss to his lips to muffle it.
“Ar lath ma, vhenan.” She returns the words he had first said to her so long ago. “And I am sorry as well.”
His eyes shoot up to her, confusion and indignation on her part plain on his face, but she moves before he can say anything.
She unsheaths a knife from her side and plunges it into his chest. Then with a flare of magic, she deepens the wound until she is certain she has reached his heart.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, tears streaming freely now as he stares at the knife in his chest in shock. “I-- I had to.” Darkness was starting to close in on her sight, and she could no longer find the energy to speak above the pain in her side, and the pain in her heart. I had to stop you from destroying the world and yourself, she wants to say. I cannot bear the thought of you suffering on your own.
There is silence, but he breaks it with a sigh, leaning into her.
“Then we are both fools,” he says, voice cracking on the last word. He pulls her closer, pushing the knife to its hilt in his chest with a shuddering breath. “And perhaps it is time to rest.”
He kisses her for the last time, but she has not the strength to return it.
“Ar lath ma, vhenan.” He breathes the words into her, and she smiles.
They close their eyes.