It's in him to laugh at that. It's not hard to imagine Felassan killing someone in cold blood, but him? In Uthenara?. But then... that would have been more merciful. Better, in many ways.

"Would you?" He says, and really Solas had meant it to come out sarcastic, disbelieving, but the pang in his breast makes it sound plaintive. If in his long dream, death had come to this body, would his spirit have died with it, or would he again be free? "You are free to be whatever you wish, Lethallin. Few would blame you for turning against me. I am sure you could find allies, even here, who would agree. Rook and her Veilguard chiefest among them, to spite me if nothing else."

Rook was not a bad woman, but her incurious, straightforward demeanor would never be less than infuriating to him. Solas could imagine Felassan integrating with ease into their little group, and they would cherish his involvement as a righteous coup, and think nothing more of it than that. It would not be the same, but it would be... easier, perhaps. Safer. Less fraught.

"Your feelings are justified. I deserve your anger."

And yet, he sounds so calm about it, doesn't he? Resigned. He's had time to think about this, to try and find a way out from the hangman's noose, and has resolved that there is none. Solas is not running from his fate; if anything, he's hoping that when it catches up to him, that it will strike all the harder.