"The words slipped past Solas' lips in barely a whisper as he stared down at the body slumped on the ground before him.

"Ma vhenan..."

He stumbled down the few mossy cobbled steps before him and out of the ruins that the fight had cornered him into.

Once he gathered his footing, he picked up the pace before slipping down in the mud as his knees bump against your body. Quickly he brought his hands to your shoulders, pulling you up onto his thighs as he looked over your bloody features, the consistent dripping from your skull and just beneath your eye made his stomach curdle.

Solas, Fen'harel, The Dread Wolf, All names of a man that had led wars, rebellions, yet he couldn't stomach the sight of your body, beaten, burnt, bloody, on the muddy ground before him.

All of this was his fault...

He had failed again. And now he's lost another... His heart... His beloved...

"Ir abelas, ma vhenan..."

The memory haunts him more than the other losses he's endured. Maybe because it was so fresh. Maybe because you were the only one who made him feel like he could be himself. Just Solas.

Failure was not an option. It was his fault you were put in this position.

The loud sound of static rang through his ears as he stood with his gaze fixed on a small rift in the fade. He shouldn't be doing this. To subject the world to this once more was a crime he didn't want to commit. But one he was going to anyway.

For her.

If the split is small enough, hopefully it won't attract any unwanted attention, hopefully spirits and demons will ignore the slight shift. He just needed to go back.

Dorian had it figured out in a sense. 'Time travel'. Something that Mortal's shouldn't be given the ability of and something god's don't medal with. Not often anyway.

Fen'harel was no ordinary god. He walked amongst the living and kept that to himself. He dealt with their hardships on top of his own. He deserved this. He deserved to go back just before you were murdered, to prevent it from happening. That's all. Nothing too big, nothing he couldn't handle.

The ice blue of the Lyrium dagger's blade reflected the rainbow of colours that rippled from the rift, the gold handle was tucked into his fist, keeping it steady even if his hand shook a little, his thumb brushed over the gold almost nervously as he stared at the small split.

A few drops of his blood, if that. That's all he needed. Not enough to bind him to the Veil, but hopefully enough to give him the strength to right his wrongs. Or one of them at least.

"Var lath vir..."

The lyrium dagger sat snuggly against his hand before he dragged the blade of it up to his fingers. Just a few drops...

He sliced his ring finger before watching as a few droplets of blood ran out from the open wound and down his skin, mapping the texture with red before dripping off of the side of his hand and to the floor beneath his feet.

He held his breath as he waited for the impact, for anything. But nothing.

Nothing happened.

Solas could feel the cold rush over his shoulders as all of his heat ran to his face. As anger and frustration bubbled up at his failure.

His eyes pricked with tears as his jaw clenched and his fists balled harder, gripping onto the dagger and squeezing the slice on his finger.

Just as he lashed out, slashing towards the veil, the otherworldly colours and pressures of the fade burst out at him, knocking him back and forcing him into unconsciousness.

The lightness of sleep started to fade off after a little while, the familiar drag of consciousness pulled at his aching limbs as his ears twitched a little to hear the surroundings.

Birds, and trees, he could hear rustling and lowly chatter. His eyes flickered open and he was greeted with the beam of a tent, the light warmed the muddy orange fabric enough to brighten it.

That was when he heard it.

"Oh? You're finally awake."

His chest fell hollow as he recognised your voice.

"Ma vhenan..." He barely murmured.