Unwelcome Surprise

Rowena blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Ah—w-well…" She glanced at the bed, then at the floor, then back at him. "You could sleep on the floor… I-I mean, I can get you some blankets! It won't be that cold, I promise."

Solas tilted his head slightly, feigning innocent curiosity. "You'd make a guest sleep on the floor?"

Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. "N-no! I mean yes—wait, no! That's not what I meant!"

Solas walked over to her bed, slowly sitting at the edge of the bed. He trailed his fingers along the fabric with a quiet hum. "This bed is quite comfy," he said softly. "I wouldn't mind sharing it with you, you know."

Rowena nearly shut down. Her legs trembled as she stood frozen in place, her thoughts racing. Just having someone in her room was enough to overwhelm her—let alone this kind of situation.

Solas, sensing that she was teetering on the edge of emotional overload, decided to redirect. "Earlier," he began, "you told the woman downstairs I was a girl. Why?"

Rowena exhaled deeply, finally breathing again. "Because you're a man… and we haven't seen a man in these parts for years. If she knew, she'd probably panic."

She paused, her gaze lingering on him with a hint of admiration. "Someone could mistake you for a girl if they weren't paying attention." She smiled faintly.

Solas blinked, then reached up, grabbing a strand of his hair between his fingers. I guess… I could see people thinking that.

He looked back at her, eyes calm. "Why don't you take your armor off? It must be uncomfortable."

She froze, unsure how to respond—her mind stalled, unable to process anything. "U-uh…"

Solas offered a soft smile. "I won't look."

He rose from the bed and calmly walked to the corner of the room, turning his back to her. "If this makes you feel better."

"O-Okay…" she mumbled, hesitating for a moment before finally beginning to unstrap her armor. She removed her sword, placing it gently on the shelf.

Clink.

The sound of metal plates filled the room as they hit the floor one by one. Eventually, the noise stopped, and a soft voice followed. "I-I'm done…"

Solas turned around slowly—only to find her standing in her undergarments, one arm hastily covering her chest. Her face was flushed, her eyes unable to meet his.

He blinked, genuinely surprised. He had expected her to simply remove her armor—not strip down to this extent. His gaze drifted to the folded gambeson on the shelf, then down to the scattered plates on the floor.

"Do you need help picking that up?" he asked, gesturing toward the armor pieces.

"O-oh, um—it's fine! I can handle it myself…" she stammered, crouching to gather a few pieces and heading toward the armor stand.

Solas, silently, began picking up the remaining parts to speed things along.

Rowena glanced back and saw him lifting her breastplate. "Y-you don't need to help! I have it under—"

She moved toward him too quickly, misjudging the space. Her foot caught slightly, and she stumbled forward—right into him. She stopped herself just in time, but her breath hitched when she realized what had happened.

Solas's arm was caught between her chest.

A warm softness pressed against his forearm—light, almost like touching clouds.

Rowena's face turned scarlet. She gasped and backed away instantly, nearly tripping again. "I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—!" She looked down, flustered beyond words.

Solas chuckled softly. "It's quite alright—it doesn't bother me all that much."

"If you say so…"

After a while, they finished setting her armor on the stand, and it was finally time to sleep.

Solas lay on the far side of the bed, his back pressed against the wall. He let out a quiet yawn, lazily shifting his gaze toward Rowena.

She stood near the shelf, blowing out the candle. The room was swallowed in darkness. Moments later, the bed shifted with her movement as she slid under the covers.

Her body wasn't far from his—he could feel the warmth of her skin radiating through the still air.

In a soft, almost trembling voice, she asked, "T-this is okay for you?"

He responded with a smooth, reassuring tone, "It's very nice."

In truth, he didn't care at all. All he wanted was a warm bed and a roof over his head. But this moment of comfort served its purpose.

Silence settled in—until Rowena's voice broke it once again.

She sounded vulnerable now, her guard down. "I've never been this c-close with someone before… I-I hope I'm not a bother to you…"

Solas reached over and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, massaging it with slow, thoughtful care. "You're not a bother at all. I'm glad I met you. If it weren't for you, I'd still be lost in that forest."

A small smile touched her lips. Though he couldn't see it, she felt safe beside him. Something about his presence felt like home—like something she could finally lean on.

Unbeknownst to her, she had surrendered completely to him. And that was all Solas needed.

The strange symbol on his hand began to glow once more. That's when it clicked.

He now understood what made it respond.

He had a place to rest, a person to use, and a new piece of the puzzle. Tomorrow, he would find out where to go next.

He began drifting off to sleep, his eyes growing heavy as his thoughts faded—until everything went dark.

In the distance, the sound of footsteps echoed. A voice pleaded, desperate and trembling, begging someone to stop.

The atmosphere shifted. The room felt loud, like a crowd was gathered, all towering over him.

Solas's mind slowly stirred back to awareness. His eyes fluttered open.

One… two… three… four… five?

Five women in armor stood around him, staring down with expressions of disgust.

To the side, Rowena stood restrained, held by two women gripping her arms. Her face was filled with worry.

In front of him, one woman had her sword drawn—its tip hovering inches from Solas's face.

This doesn't look good…

Solas sat up slowly, his eyes scanning the room as he tried to assess the situation.

Rowena cried out, "I tried to convince them, but they wouldn't listen!"

The armored woman at the front spoke in a cold, commanding tone. "You will be coming with us."