The next thing you know, you’re in the Fade—his domain, his escape. The skies are dark and turbulent, mirroring your mood. Solas stands there, his figure illuminated by the faint glow of the dreamscape.

"You always do this," you say, crossing your arms as you approach him. "You pull me in when it’s convenient for you."

His expression is pained, but he doesn’t deny it.

"And yet, you always come," he counters softly, his voice low but steady.

That’s the thing about him—he’s maddeningly self-aware. He knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how you feel, and yet he keeps you at arm’s length, never letting you too close but never pushing you away entirely.

"You’re not fair," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. "You come to me when you’re lonely, when the weight of whatever it is you’re carrying gets too heavy. And then you disappear again. What am I supposed to do with that, Solas?"

He takes a step closer, his gaze searching yours. For a moment, it looks like he might say something meaningful, something real. But then he looks away, his jaw tightening.

"I never meant to hurt you," he says finally, his tone tinged with regret. "But what I carry… it’s not something I can share. Not with you. Not with anyone."

"Then why bring me here at all?" you demand. "Why not just let me go?"

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he closes the distance between you, his hand reaching out to cup your face. His touch is warm, grounding, and it makes your heart ache.

"Because I can’t," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.