The First Meeting

Chapter 6

Third POV

Solas stood in the center of his chamber, the moonlight pouring through the open ceiling above the pond, casting an ethereal glow on the water's surface. His reflection stared back at him, a visage of cold, unyielding power. He had felt Elara's presence the moment she stepped into his cave, her scent—a perfect blend of earthy, flowery, and the sweet essence of the moon—filling the air. It was intoxicating and infuriating all at once.

The door to his chamber creaked open, and Solas turned slowly, his pale blue eyes narrowing as he watched her approach. She wore a beautiful wedding dress, its fabric shimmering in the dim light. The dress hugged her hourglass figure, accentuating every curve, while the delicate lace sleeves and bodice added a touch of elegance. Around her neck and wrists, she wore simple yet exquisite jewelry—silver pieces that caught the light and sparkled softly.

Elara walked with a grace and determination that Solas found both admirable and irritating. She was not cowering, not trembling as so many before her had. Her green eyes were steady, her full lips set in a firm line. Her long silver hair cascaded down her back, a striking contrast to the pristine white of her dress.

As she drew closer, Solas turned back to the pond, his gaze fixed on the water's surface. He watched as her reflection joined his, her image blending with the shimmering moonlight. She stopped a few feet away from him, her eyes meeting his in the reflection. Her beauty was undeniable, but it was her calm defiance that captivated him.

"You're not afraid," Solas remarked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

Elara's reflection remained steady. "No, I'm not," she replied, her voice calm and steady. "I've accepted my fate."

Solas felt a surge of anger at her defiance. He had expected fear, tears, begging for mercy. This calm acceptance was something new, something that unsettled him. He turned to face her, his gaze traveling up and down her form. At six foot four, his presence was imposing, his dark hair tied back in a manbun, his fitted black dress shirt and pants emphasizing his muscular build.

"Do you know what I do to my brides?" he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper.

"I do," Elara replied, her eyes never leaving his. "You kill them."

Solas smirked, a cruel, mocking smile. "And yet here you stand, as if you're ready to face me. Do you think you're special? That I'll spare you?"

Elara shook her head. "No, I don't expect to be spared. But I won't give you the satisfaction of seeing me beg."

Solas's smirk faded, replaced by a cold, hard stare. "You think you can defy me? That your bravery will change anything?"

"I'm not here to change anything," Elara said. "I'm here because it's my duty. If my death can protect the village, then so be it."

Solas clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Her unwavering resolve was infuriating. He wanted to see her break, to see her fear. But there was something about her that made him hesitate, a flicker of curiosity that he couldn't quite extinguish.

He stepped even closer, his breath mingling with hers. She smelled of wildflowers and earth, a scent that was both grounding and alluring. "You think you're brave," he hissed. "But bravery won't save you. I will break you, Elara. And when you beg for mercy, I will deny you."

Elara's expression softened slightly, and for a moment, Solas saw something in her eyes that made his heart skip a beat—compassion. "I know you're angry," she said quietly. "I know you've suffered. But taking it out on me won't change what happened to you."

Solas recoiled as if struck. "You know nothing of my suffering," he snarled.

"Then tell me," Elara said, her voice gentle. "Tell me your story, Solas."

Solas turned away, unwilling to share his pain with her. "You are nothing to me," he said coldly. "Just another sacrifice. Remember that."

He walked to the edge of the pond and stared into the water, trying to regain his composure. Her presence was a constant irritation, a reminder of everything he had lost. Yet, despite his anger, he found himself unable to kill her. Not yet. He needed to understand why she wasn't afraid, why she faced him with such quiet strength.

Solas stood by the edge of the pond, the moonlight reflecting off its surface and casting a shimmering glow on the chamber walls. He struggled to regain his composure, his mind swirling with thoughts and emotions that he couldn't quite control. Elara's presence, her unwavering defiance, and her strange compassion were a constant irritation. He needed to understand why she wasn't afraid, why she faced him with such quiet strength. But more than that, he needed to break her.

He turned back to her, his pale blue eyes cold and calculating. "You think you can understand my suffering? Fine. Let's see how well you handle a taste of it yourself."

Elara didn't flinch under his gaze. "Do what you must, Solas. I won't beg for mercy."

Her calm resolve only fueled his anger. "We'll see about that," he muttered, a dark smile playing on his lips.

Solas decided he would begin by stripping away her physical comforts. He walked over to a corner of the chamber, where a cold, stone slab lay. "You will sleep here," he said, pointing to the slab. "No blankets, no pillows. Just cold stone."

Elara glanced at the slab but didn't respond. Her silence only added to his frustration.

He moved to the next step of his plan. "Every day, you will be given only a small amount of food and water. Just enough to keep you alive. You will learn what it means to be truly hungry and thirsty."

Still, Elara didn't react. Her calm demeanor was infuriating.

Solas stepped closer to her, his breath mingling with hers again. "And every day, I will remind you of the fate that awaits you. I will tell you in excruciating detail how I killed each of the brides before you. How they begged for mercy. How they died screaming."

For a moment, he saw a flicker of something in her eyes—was it fear? But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by that same unwavering determination.

"And if that doesn't break you," Solas continued, his voice a low growl, "I will use my magic to torment you. I will create illusions so real that you will believe you are experiencing your worst nightmares. I will make you see your village burning, your loved ones dying. I will make you believe that you are trapped in an endless cycle of pain and suffering."

Elara's eyes widened slightly at that, and Solas felt a grim satisfaction. Finally, he was getting through to her.

"I will make you wish for death," he hissed. "And then, when you are broken, when you are begging for mercy, I will kill you. Slowly. Painfully. And I will take great pleasure in it."

Elara's eyes met his, and for the first time, he saw a flicker of fear. But it was quickly replaced by a steely resolve. "Do what you must, Solas," she said quietly. "But know this—I will not give you the satisfaction of seeing me beg."

Solas felt a surge of anger at her defiance. How could she remain so calm, so determined? He had to break her, had to make her see that defying him was futile.

"You will break," he said coldly. "Everyone breaks eventually."

Elara didn't respond, her green eyes steady and unwavering. Solas turned away, his mind racing with thoughts of how to torment her, how to make her suffer.

He would start with the physical discomfort, making her sleep on the cold stone slab and giving her only minimal food and water. Then, he would begin the psychological torment, using his magic to create vivid, horrifying illusions that would break her spirit. He would remind her every day of the fate that awaited her, describing in detail the deaths of the brides before her.

And if all that failed, he would use his magic to inflict physical pain, pushing her to the brink of madness. He would make her suffer in ways she couldn't even imagine.

As Solas stood by the pond, watching the moonlight dance on its surface, he felt a strange sense of anticipation. Breaking Elara would be a challenge, but it was one he was determined to meet. He would see her beg for mercy, and he would take great pleasure in her suffering.

But as he looked at her reflection in the water, her calm, determined expression staring back at him, he couldn't shake the feeling that this time, things might be different. There was something about her, something that made him hesitate, that made him question his own resolve.

For now, though, he pushed those thoughts aside. He had a plan, and he would see it through. He would break Elara, no matter what it took.