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Even after spending so much time around him the past few months, Merrill still didn't know what to think of Solas. She'd been excited to meet him when she first arrived at Skyhold, thrilled at the idea of getting to talk with a Dreamer who had seen so much lost history while he slept. Everything that she'd heard about him filled her with curiosity in a way that she hadn't felt in at least a few years, not since everything had gone so wrong back in Kirkwall.
Except he hadn't been what she expected at all.
Varric had told her that he wasn't Dalish, so she'd been expecting someone more like the city elves she'd lived among for years after being sent away from her clan. That very much wasn't the case. Solas certainly wasn't Dalish, and he didn't have much respect for those who were, but he wasn't a city elf either. Nor was he some cowed elven mage who'd spent his life in the Circle having his will beaten down, not that she'd really expected that considering she knew he was an apostate.
He was something else entirely, and Merrill didn't know what to make of him.
Honestly, more often than not, it felt as if he was a walking contradiction. Sometimes he would state things about the past as if they were definitive statements, yet they were completely different than anything Merrill had ever heard while living among the Dalish, city elves, or apostates. Solas treated them as if they were a common fact, though, as if he was simply stating that the sky was blue or water was wet. Other times, he would act as if he'd never heard the most trivial things before in his life, the type that any elf living anywhere in Thedas should know as well as breathing.
It didn't make any sense. He didn't make any sense. And yet Merrill couldn't deny that he was a genius in some ways.
Merrill had been brought on as the Inquisition's expert on Eluvians, and yet he somehow managed to make her feel like a clumsy child who didn't know anything whatsoever about the subject. It was infuriating sometimes, if also a bit humbling to realize just how little she actually knew even after devoting so much of her life to studying them.
Then again, there was honestly something rather intriguing about him, not that she'd mention it to his face. She'd learned that lesson the hard way years ago, along with a number of other things that Kirkwall had taught her. Sometimes it was best to keep things to yourself. Other people couldn't use your secrets against you if they didn't know them.
And she knew without a doubt that he certainly was keeping secrets after all, even if she had no idea just what they were.
*
"You've seen the elves here," Lavellan said slowly, glancing back over her shoulder at Merrill. "They seem... odd."
Merrill had been having the same thought since the first elf they'd seen, taller and somehow other in a way she'd never encountered before. Well, never save for Solas, and even in that case it still wasn't quite the same. The elves they'd been encountering for the past few hours were odd, yes, but in a mostly different way from him. Even if there were a few similarities that even she couldn't deny.
Just like Solas, these new elves weren't anything like she expected them to be. And, just like Solas, she wasn't certain why.
Honestly, if she didn't know better, she'd think that maybe they were ancient elves. But that was ridiculous... wasn't it?
"Oh good," Merrill replied, keeping that line of thought to herself for the time being. "I was hoping you'd noticed that too. They're certainly not Dalish."
Lavellan shook her head, obviously agreeing. "No, they're not," she agreed. "But do you have any idea who they might be?"
Merrill hesitated for just a moment, weighing the odds of whether or not it would be a good idea to share her thoughts. Then she mentally shrugged. What was the worst that could happen? Dorian was smart enough to have certainly figured out a few things himself. Growing up in Tevinter the way he had, he'd probably grown up on very similar stories even if they probably were from a different perspective than the Dalish told them. And Varric was Varric. If she didn't trust him, she'd never have ended up with the Inquisition in the first place.
"They could be descendants of ancient elves who've managed to stay hidden all this time," Merrill said, making sure to pause for a moment before continuing. "They might even be ancient elves themselves, ones who hid away when Arlathan was destroyed. Or ones who had entered uthenera before its fall and then awoke now. The stories say the ancients lived forever after all."
Solas went suspiciously still. It was only for a moment, and Merrill didn't think Lavellan or Dorian either one saw it. Varric probably did, but that was because he saw everything. And, well, the only reason she'd noticed was because she was intentionally paying attention.
A flicker of suspicion darted through her, but she purposefully didn't chase it. Not just then. Everyone deserved their secrets, even Solas.
"Do you truly think they could be ancient elves?" Lavellan asked skeptically. "Doesn't that seem unlikely to you?"
Merrill gave a small shrug. "I once saw Asha'bellana be reborn from an amulet, turn into a dragon, and fly away. Unlikely things happened a lot around Hawke."
Varric snorted. "That's for damn sure," he muttered under his breath.
Lavellan stared at her. So did Solas. The only one not staring was Dorian, and that was most likely because he didn't know who Asha'bellana was or what the implication of her turning into a dragon meant.
Merrill reached up to rub the back of her neck. "You got used to it after a while," she said, ignoring Varric as he tried to muffle his obvious laughter at that understatement. "Let's keep going and see what we can find."
Merrill started walking forward, keeping her eyes open for any traps or potential dangers. She'd spent enough time over the years traversing ancient ruins, both elven and otherwise, to know better than to risk being foolhardy.
She swore that she could still feel Solas's gaze on her back.
*
Merrill couldn't tear her gaze from the statue of the Dread Wolf that they had come across. It wasn't the first time she'd seen a depiction of him, of course, but she hadn't expected to find one here of all places. Especially not in what appeared to be such a prominent place of honor.
It wasn't hidden away. It didn't seem to have been placed as a way of keeping dangers at bay. It was as if some ancient elf – or perhaps even Mythal herself – had thought Fen'Harel deserved to be in this holy place, not as a warning but as something else entirely.
Why would Fen'Harel have a place of prominence in Mythal's sanctum? There had to be a reason for it, some story that had been lost or twisted over the years. It didn't make sense otherwise.
"You seem surprised to see a statue of Fen'Harel here," Solas said, his voice coming from directly behind her. "Considering the legends that the Dalish tell, I suppose it's not surprising."
Merrill glanced at him. "Have you heard different legends about the Dread Wolf?" she asked curiously. "Or have you seen them in your dreams?"
"Perhaps," Solas replied, not meeting her gaze. "I've heard and seen many things over the years."
Once upon a time, her friends in Kirkwall had thought Merrill innocent and naïve. Eventually they had realized that there was more to her than met the eye, that just because she saw the world in a different light than them didn't mean her vision wasn't clear. She had trained to be First of her clan, and that role had many expectations upon it.
She knew when someone was lying, whether it be by omission or otherwise. And there was no doubt in her mind that Solas was doing just that.
Merrill stood there quietly for a moment, letting her gaze take in the scene. Solas was carefully avoiding looking at the wolf statue in front of them, to the point where she couldn't help but think there was much more to the story than he was letting on. It felt more as if he was trying to keep an old hurt at bay than anything else.
That suspicion that had been dancing through her mind earlier popped back up, a quiet whisper in her ear that maybe, just maybe, there was a reason that Solas seemed so different from the other elves she'd met. There was a part of her that was almost certain the answer was right in front of her, hidden in plain sight as they walked through the ruins of her ancient ancestors.
Still, it wasn't the time or the place. Not right now. They had other priorities.
"I would be curious to hear the stories that you know," Merrill said, giving Solas a small nod. "Not now, but sometime when there's not a race involved. I'm sure they differ quite a bit from the ones that I grew up on."
Solas made a face. "Based on what I've heard of Dalish legends, that much is certain."
Merrill pushed down the flicker of annoyance that she felt at his words, reminding herself yet again that she had spent years not letting comments from Anders or Fenris get under her skin. If she could ignore their comments, then she could pretend that Solas's didn't hurt her in any way either.
It was worth it, for the chance to compare her knowledge to his and see how much history and legend differed. Once upon a time, she'd been willing to sacrifice almost everything for the chance of regaining her people's lost history. Her pride was a small enough cost in the grand scheme of things.
Knowledge was more important. If she compared the stories she knew to the ones that Solas did, perhaps somewhere between them would be the truth.
*
Considering how hesitant Solas had been to say anything about the Dread Wolf, Merrill had expected him to keep quiet about any other statues or murals they came across as they made their way through Mythal's sanctum. That very much hadn't been the case, though, to her surprise.
Despite his reticence on the topic of Fen'Harel, Solas had plenty to say about all of the other Evanuris – many of it quite different than anything she or Lavellan either one had learned from their clans. More importantly, he didn't speak like he was reciting legends or stories. He spoke like he was telling facts. If anything, some of the things he said sounded almost personal, like he was talking about living, breathing people rather than all-powerful gods.
Flawed people. Dangerous people. Powerful people.
Merrill wasn't a fool, no matter what some people might think of her. She'd heard more than she suspected Solas intended her to hear when they'd first come face to face with Abelas. He had certainly been speaking about someone, but she was very doubtful it was Abelas his rant to Lavellan had been about. There had been a personal note to it, one that he clearly hadn't meant to let come through in his voice.
If he wasn't an ancient elf who'd woken from his uthenera, she'd eat her hat. Well, she would if she had a hat. Isabela would surely send her one if she asked nicely, although that seemed like a waste of a nice hat.
... and she was getting distracted from her point.
It would explain a number of things about Solas, if her suspicion was correct. The oddities about him. The way that he knew some things long forgotten with absolute certainty but would be caught off guard by references to well-known events from a mere decade or so earlier.
Honestly, it would even explain why he had been so against drinking from the Well himself. Both she and Lavellan had been caught off guard by his vehemence when he'd made it clear that he had no interest whatsoever in it, but perhaps it made sense in hindsight. It involved tying whoever used the vir'abelasan to Mythal, and if he truly was old enough to be from a time when the gods actually lived among their people... well, it had implications. That much was certain.
"Varric said that I would find you here."
Merrill sat up a little straighter at the sound of Solas's voice coming from behind her, but she didn't turn around. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her Eluvian, its painstakingly repaired appearance so different from the others she'd seen in recent days. It had its own beauty, she thought, even if the fact that it had once been broken was very obvious.
There was a quiet huff, and a moment later Solas joined her on the floor.
She glanced over at him. "Are you here to tell me some of those stories?" Merrill asked. "I'm sure your versions are very different than the ones I've heard. First-hand accounts usually are, aren't they?"
Solas stilled.
The corners of Merrill's mouth twitched, but she didn't let herself smile. Not yet.
"Even if you did only see them in your dreams," Merrill continued as if she hadn't noticed anything, "you must have seen so many more details."
Solas was many things, but he wasn't a fool. There was no doubt whatsoever in Merrill's mind that he knew that she knew, even if both of them were being very careful not to actually put anything into words.
"I can certainly see why you drew Audacity's attention," Solas said, narrowing his eyes slightly.
Two could play that game, Merrill supposed. "Well, Solas," she said, making sure to emphasize his name so that he'd be clear that she knew what its meaning was, "you would know all about Pride, I would think."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just sat there side-by-side in front of a once shattered Eluvian that glowed with ancient magic, each of them staring at the other.
Then Solas let out a quiet chuckle, one that actually sounded as if he meant it. "You're nothing like Varric led me to believe."
From anyone else, Merrill might have taken that as an insult. Coming from Solas, though, it sounded almost like a compliment.
"I could say the same about you," she said. "Are you ready to share those stories now?"
The corners of Solas's mouth turned upwards into something almost resembling a smile. "Which ones would you like to hear?"
Merrill didn't hesitate for even a moment. "All of them."
And then she settled in to listen as he wove a story for her about another world long gone.