Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition
POV: 3rd Person
Whumpee: Solas
Summary: Solas desires nothing more than to abandon his duty, his people, for Lavellan.
Warnings: NSFW, extremely dubious consent
AO3 Link
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
It had not been an unpleasant surprise, to be caught unawares by her that day.
Habitually now, it seemed, she would find any excuse to pull him aside - an urgent, private discussion would often be a guise to get him on his own. Today, it seemed, Lavellan could not wait to catch him between work and tedium, her hand encircling his wrist as soon as she could find a quiet place to talk. She pulled him quickly to a shaded grove amidst the trees, away from prying eyes as Bull and Sera wandered off elsewhere to gather what resources they could find.
A wry smile quirked the corner of his lips as they were stolen by a fervent kiss, her hands wasting no time in seeking out the sensitive skin underneath his shirt.
“What is the occasion?” he chuckled, taking her cheek tenderly in hand, “Not that I don’t enjoy your company~”
Lavellan gazed up at him with bright eyes glistening in the dappled morning light, “Why must there be a reason, ma vhenan? The day is beautiful, and so are you.”
”A cause as good as any, I suppose,” he conceded, his smile growing a tad. Her fingers never ceased their searching touch, dancing in lazy circles on his back, and Solas could not help but lean into the feeling he still felt so bereft of. He had grown accustomed to Miriel’s near-constant contact since being with her, but centuries of sleep in isolation were not washed away so easily.
”I never tire of seeing you like this,” she cooed, her voice a hushed, relaxing hum, “You act like you could drown with just a hug…”
He meant to come up with some clever jibe, to brush off her teasing observation with something that might distract from the way his body yearned for contact as if starved, but then her lips had claimed his once again and he found any thought swiftly erased. His hand slipped from her cheek and to her nape, his fingers combing through the red curls there, chuckling as he accidentally tugged at the tangles that never seemed to leave and earned the tiniest hitch of her breath against his mouth, her body pressing close.
He found himself backed up against a tree as the kiss deepened, stumbling them both, and Miriel pulled back only to tug his shirt away and toss it in the grass. Her kisses trailed along his jaw and throat, a breathy groan rumbling in Solas’ chest. Lavellan nipped and lapped at his fair skin, finding every point of sensitivity and mapping it with bruising bites that sent heat pooling sharply to his groin. He had not seen her so eager in weeks, wondering for a moment where this newfound energy had come from, but her attentions were determined to wipe his thoughts. Solas cradled her close, his hand still tangled in her hair as his free hand snaked to her waist, pulling her close enough to feel every curve of her body through her clothes.
“It is… good to see you in such spirits,” he said through increasingly laboured breaths, “But please, my heart, we do not have to stand — I would not wish for you to be in pain—“
His words were cut of by another groan as her thigh pressed tightly between his own, Lavellan’s gaze lifting to meet his with a wicked glint of mischief in her eyes. “Your concern is sweet, Solas,” she replied, “But I feel better than ever before.”
Were Solas made of stronger will and strength, he might have let the twinge of doubt remain, but her mouth closed around one of his nipples and he could not for the life of him keep hold of whatever thought tried to form behind his lust-blown eyes and drifting mind.
Lavellan stepped back, then, breaking free of his grip to eye him with a smirk, tugging her own shirt off. Her hand traced the curve of her supple breast, and Solas followed the path with his eyes, his breath catching and locking in his throat as her fingers dipped just below her belt. She bit her lip, the smirk tugging her lips still taunting him as she withdrew her hand again, closing the distance between them once more and capturing him in a searing kiss. Her breasts were somehow cool against his chest, his own skin burning hot under her touch, and Solas nipped gently at her soft lips, the taste of her making him groan once more.
”I wish we did not have to steal away,” she panted when they finally part once more, “The world could cease to move for all I care, if I could spend the time alone with you.”
His heart squeezed at her wistful tone of voice, wrapping his arms around her with a squeeze, “Would that we could slow down once in a while. I covet every second we can’t have.”
Miriel rested her head on his chest, her hand still moving even as she spoke. “We could just… run away, when this is done,” she suggested in that same wistful tone. The deft fingers of a rogue tugged at the cord keeping his trousers firmly secured, and Solas shuddered as her touch dipped low, palming at his arousal leisurely.
”That’s what you want, isn’t it, ma vhenan?” she wondered with deep sincerity, her head lifting to study his expression as if she were not tormenting him. “To escape all of this and be with me? Leave your burdens buried with your past?”
The doubt crept back to Solas for a moment, something nagging the back of his mind, but she was smiling so sweetly at him and her fingers were dancing on his cock with such attentiveness he could not think; another strangled moan leaving his throat.
”Th-there a-ah—are burdens we can’t lose,” he managed, one hand clawing at the bark behind him as she teased with agonising slowness, palm rolling firm against him.
“But you can,” she urged in a soft murmur, withdrawing her hand with one final squeeze. His hips canted towards her, seeking out the friction she so tenderly denied, a breathless whine escaping from his throat that he knew he should be embarrassed by — but he could not pretend to care right now, caught up in confusion and heady lust.
“Y-You do not know that,” Solas told her, his voice a low and trembling murmur even as he began to finally feel the conflict snd regret she evoked.
“Do you still think me so naive, my love?” she said, hurt mixed with fondness in her voice. One hand lifted to cup his cheek, her thumb softly tracing the curve of his cheekbone. “The stories say you are the god of lies, but you are terrible at what you do.”
A cold chill suddenly replaced the heat, and Solas stiffened as her words sunk in. “You-.. know?” was all he managed, shocked silent as nagging worries still beat at his mind. Something was off about the way she smiled; something was missing from her emerald eyes, but Solas could not bring himself to care, a burden easing from him with his lie. “Emma’sal’shiral… How do you still seem to startle me with every passing day?”
Miriel did not answer for a while, her eyes still holding his with thoughtful care. The clarity was missing from her gaze — the sharpness he adored no longer there, and Solas did not want to let himself admit that something was still deeply wrong.
”The world has been this way for long enough,” she continued after a moment more. Although her touch and closeness stoked the flames still burning in his gut and in his chest, the doubt was beginning to win the day as she pushed further at his burdened mind. “You could still learn to like what we’ve become — the elves, the world you made so long ago. You need only forgive yourself and mourn. Elope with me, ma lath. You deserve peace.”
“How could you know..?” This wasn’t right at all. To learn his secret was one miracle, but knowing of his past, his plans, his guilt? Solas frowned deeply, unable to speak. Behind the daze of lust and love and need there was a sharp, imposing clarity. Lavellan had not faltered in her gait. No pain had troubled her in far too long. Her eyes did not pierce through him as they should. The Anchor, even, was dull at his cheek.
“You are not Lavellan,” he realised, a new darkness settling in his eyes. How could he have missed the obvious signs? He cursed himself for letting his guard slip.
A scarce second had passed after his realisation before something moved behind the thing masquerading as Miriel, a blade glinting as it pressed to her throat.
”That face belongs to someone else,” the real Lavellan’s snarled as she walked backwards with the demon posing as her. The creature raised its hands in peace, and Miriel allowed it to turn slowly, facing her in sheepish motions. “You have exactly five seconds to tell me what you are and what you want.”
The Desire Demon rolled its eyes, shifting into a more comfortable form. It looked above her, skin now marble white, curved horns framing its sharp androgyny with elegant purple and gold designs traced into every inch of shifting skin. “Let’s be sensible here,” it sighed at last, “We both have something that the other wants. You let me free, and I will grant you peace. A respite from the pain you both endure.”
“A version of me, moons ago, might listen to your bargain; hear you out, maybe even come to agreement.” Lavellan’s dagger lowered as she took a step closer to it, her jaw set like she might pounce any moment. “But right there’s just one problem.”
With a flourish, she plunged her blade into its throat.
“Nothing lays a finger on the people I love and survives,” she hissed, dragging the blade down through its torso. She twisted as she reached its heart, stepping back to allow it to crumple and twitch, gurgling on its black blood pathetically. Without waiting for it to still, she turned back to Solas.
He had not moved, shame warring with the lust that still burned hot in every nerve he had. He knew he should be reeling with disgust, but seeing Miriel’s elegant rage only stoked fire hotter still within, his vision narrowing to only her.
She approached with her gaze still dark, her lip pulled upwards in a snarl of barely-controlled fury as he watched her. She grasped him roughly by the nape of his neck, fingers digging harshly in as she pulled him down towards her to kiss him. Her mouth was rough and possessive, claiming him until nothing of the demon remained
“Mine,” she hissed, and Solas felt the last of his fragile resolve snap violently away from him all at once. His arms wrapped tightly around her lithe frame, surging to kiss her once again with such fervour she stumbled backwards. One arm tight around her waist, he guided her to the ground, laying on his back and pulling her on top of him, her fragile body firmly supported.
“Are you alright, my heart?” he asked, concern and regret in his chest even as she trailed her kisses to his collar, “I have not seen you so incensed — at least not in the waking world.”
She huffed, burying her face in his shoulder for a moment, “I dreamt of you. Like the Fade itself was warning me. I woke to find Cullen convinced I had already left, and when I found you here… I could not think for worry”
“I should have known it was not you— I usually can sense a spirit. I do not know what could have possessed me,” Solas told her, tugging her shirt away and drinking her in. “Ir abelas. No demon could compare to the real you, my heart. I fear I let my body overtake sense.”
”Oh, I can tell,” she teased gently, rolling her hips against him just enough to make him shudder at the friction. Still, despite the smirk playing her lips she pulled back to fix him with a concerned frown. “Are you alright? To be touched by that thing— I can’t imagine. We can stop, if this is-..”
“Hush, vhenan,” he soothed her. Despite the dull regret still aching in his chest, his gaze was tender as he brushed a loose curl out of her face, “I am alright, I assure you. It is nothing I cannot handle.”
Miriel was sceptical, but as her gaze traced down his throat she caught the marks the demon had left on him. The thought of any creature laying their claim on him without her was bitter enough to rekindle her rage, ducking in to nip and lap at each angry mark, reclaiming the skin with vengeful haste.
”Fenedhis,” he groaned, his hands gripping her hips as his own canted up in sharp response to her attentions. He felt her smirk against his throat, her hips rolling to meet his own as her teeth grazed and nipped the tip of his ear. “Ara haurasha, isalan dera na aron tulean.”
Lavellan’s breath hitched at his words, a shudder running through her as the rumble of his voice pooled deep in her gut. She pushed herself upright, her fingers fumbling as she tugged at his trousers and footwraps, tearing them from him with the fervour of a woman starved and scorned.
She palmed him through his smallclothes for a moment, playfulness in her bright smile a stark contrast to her imposter. Her hand kneaded and squeezed until his voice cracked on a breathless moan, widening her smile into a teasing grin. “Ha’mi’in. Lasa em tua rosas’da’din, emma lath.”
The filthy words sent lightning through his aching body, his eyes dark and blown with want as she withdrew her friction, shimmying out of her own trousers before leaning in again, the heat of her burning his own like a brand. “You will end me, I am certain vhen’an’ara. I am not made for beauty as yours.”
Lavellan hummed her approval, kissing him deeply once again as her hips rolled idly against his. The fabric of their smallclothes scarcely filled the burning warmth of her sex searing against every inch of his own. Solas breathed a shuddering sigh, gripping her hips to keep her there as he basked in the delicious friction, delighting in the small moan she offered in return.
“Please, vhenan,” he begged, his voice a growl through gritted teeth as he bit back the urge to pin her down and take her. He planted kisses, open mouthed and urgent, against the soft column of her throat, nipping at the tender pulse point. “I crave you in ways that may never be sated— let me have you. Please.”
Miriel gave a soft whine, the tiny noise urging him on as her small fingers encircled his wrist and guided him down to where her aching heat begged for his touch, tugging her smalls away to grant him proper access. Solas shifted to sit upright, free hand supporting her lower back. His fingers running through the wiry curls framing the gift beneath, he groaned as he traced the slick line of her folds. He dipped a single long digit inside, savouring every clutch and moan she offered as if gifts from royalty. Solas curled his finger slowly, seeking out the precious bundle within. His mouth attended to her breast, suckling softly at the tender peak as his hand swiftly found her sweet spot; the gasp he forced from her a sound he would not soon forget. A second finger joined the first, making her hips buck as she chased the sweet sensation of his devastating precision.
He moved his fingers slowly, tending to her with a languid motion that drove Miriel to madness. Her every breath and shudder washed away the disappointment of the demon, though it swelled the sadness slightly. What he would not give to take her far away; leave the whole sordid world behind. This gift he had been blessed with was a burden he should do without; should spare her from the heartbreak he would cause her. But as his eyes lifted to hers, he could not help but drown in it, her lust-blown forest eyes intoxicating; breaking his unshakeable resolve as she did every moment he spent with her now.
Solas tried to brush away the thoughts by doubling his efforts, his thumb tracing circles over her clit. Miriel whined once again, her hand gripping his shoulders like she might come apart if he did not relent. As much as he craved the sight, his cock was aching almost painfully now, throbbing in time with the unsteady pounding of his heart in his chest. With reluctance, he withdrew his fingers from her, holding her gaze firm as he suckled the nectar from them. The noise that tore its way from her was filthy; betraying her usual carefully restrained facade entirely. He could scarcely stand to hear it, giving his own cock a sympathetic squeeze.
Fumbling to free himself, his chest heaved with anticipation as her hand joined his to guide him to her. She sunk herself onto his length, the air leaving him in a rush as her welcoming heat at last engulfed him. Their eyes met once more as he forced himself still, allowing her to adjust.
Her lips were parted softly, Lavellan’s eyes bright with such vulnerable wildness that squeezed at his heart to see there. The woman he held now was no longer the refined, careful act she put on for the Game, and it was humbling to see her stripped bare of pretence he knew she felt forced to keep up in company.
An eternity passed in a heartbeat, and for once Solas could understand what divinity felt like. It was not in the power of a few unworthy figureheads, but here in the raw trust she placed in his hands. Reverence poured itself from him as she kissed him, her hips setting a leisurely pace. He ached to touch her silken skin, to explore every blessed inch, but kept his hands on her back to support her. He had no doubt she’d ruin him if she wished to, but somehow he’d convinced her to conserve her strength where she could. Though she was perfectly able to push through the harsh limitations of her struggling body most days, he could not bear to see her harm herself for her pride.
Miriel’s pace quickened slightly, drawing from his chest a ragged moan as he lifted his hips to feel her deeper. The moment he noted the way she shifted her position restlessly, her brow pinched just a little too deep, he slowly lowered them both down, slipping out of her reluctantly for a moment. She whined indignantly at him, and Solas shared the sentiment as his hips bucked in search of the lost friction, swallowing thickly against the embarrassingly needy whine that threatened to mirror hers as he turned her, facing her away from him to pull her back tightly against his body. One arm slid carefully under her body to support any part of her that might find the ground too painful, the other trembling as he hurriedly sought her heat again, burying his face in her neck to muffle the ragged moan that tore from his throat as his member once again found her aching sex.
Miriel whimpered as she clamped down around him, making his head spin with feral, uncontrollable want. He bit down on her shoulder as he began to thrust deep and slow into her, fighting to keep his pace steady. The arm underneath her took her hand, lacing their fingers together while the other kneaded her heaving breast, his breaths coming in rumbling gasps.
The new position seemed to ease whatever pain she’d been feeling, and Solas felt secure to pick the pace up. He drank in every sound that spilled freely from her lips, her free arm reaching to tilt his head so she could kiss him, if only for a moment before the twisted position proved too difficult. Instead she found the firm curve of his rear, gripping the tender flesh tightly to encourage him deeper; harder. Solas was happy to oblige her, rutting sharper still — only hesitating as he bottomed out. He studied her reaction carefully, ready to ease off if he caused her pain. Although her eyes flew shut, hand squeezing his, the strangled moans she gave urged him onward, and Solas bit down on another whine as he pounded into her aching sex.
“Ar lath ma, venuralas, ar lathel ma, f-fenedhis—“ Babbled praises spilled unbidden from her lips now, her hand slipping from his hip as she collapsed forward slightly, until he was almost on top of her again. Her legs intertwined with his, hair falling to hide her face before he brushed it back.
Lavellan’s expression was twisted in a blissful agony, the sight making his own pleasure coil tightly. He could feel every inch of him in flames, his muscles beginning to tighten as he felt his release building. Solas gritted his teeth, whining softly as he fought for control.
Miriel’s breaths caught and shuddered as his hand dipped to firmly circle the swollen bud of her clit, determined to push her over the edge before he fell apart himself. Her free hand all but clawed the ground, grasping and tugging at the grass as she continued murmuring her lewd prayers to the earth: “Fen’harel vera em, ara ar’nehn-!”
The invocation of his name was almost enough to unravel Solas’ fraying willpower then and there. A low growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth grazing her throat and nipping at her jaw, breath hot against her ear. ”Gara nar halem, numen na nehn mir em…”
Solas’ own words faded into a broken moan, unable to control himself as she clamped down around him. His thrusts faltered and sharpened, fingers doubling their efforts even as he hilted himself deep inside her, his release crashing through him in a violent wave that stole his senses until there was nothing but their bodies and the all-consuming ecstasy between them.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he shuddered and panted, breathing the heady scent of lust there as he felt Miriel begin to stiffen, arching back against his body and squeezing his hand almost painfully. He continued to murmur encouragements even as the overstimulation of his spent cock made each breath come with a broken whine, the feel of her clenching and milking around him almost unbearable. His hand slipped from hers, wrapping around her small body to hold her to him as she finally began to keen and writhe, the heat of her release sweeter than any offered prayer, any honeyed word.
They collapsed together, and Solas fell onto his back, bundling her close with shaking arms and heaving chest. She curled up against him with one last breathy moan as he slipped free of her, their combined release spilling from her. Quiet settled, only their breathing and the hushed rustle of swaying trees surrounding them as they basked in the afterglow, content if only for now.
Lavellan’s hands rested on his chest, the calloused fingertips of one slowly tracing a soothing pattern. As Solas’ gaze fell on the other, a cold twinge of sadness crept back to intrude on his momentary peace. The Anchor was an ugly reminder of why he was here; everything he had done.
Not for the first time, Solas found himself contemplating the idea of remaining with her, once the Breach closed. She would age and she would die, and he could end it then, at least -- spare her from the sad fate of her new world's end. He could steal her away to some quiet corner, close to the fade as he could manage, teach her all of her history, show her things she could scarcely even dream about...
“We need to do this more often. Minus the demon corpse, of course.” The murmur of her voice forced his thoughts present. He could not fret about that now, while 'after' was a distant thought and Miriel's life was still in such peril.
Solas smiled, genuine and fond despite himself, “I shall ensure no demons are invited, next time.”
---
Notes:
Most elvhen phrases are Project Elvhen
“Ara haurasha, isalan dera na aron tulean.”
“I lust to touch you like a creator/goddess”
“Ha’mi’in. Lasa em tua rosas’da’din, emma lath.”
“Relax. Let me make you cum, my love.”
”Gara nar halem, numen na nehn mir em…”
“Come to your end, cry your ecstasy to me.”
“Fen’harel vera em, ara ar’nehn”
“Dread Wolf take me, I go happily”
Summary: When a Pride Demon nearly takes Lavellan from him, Solas sees red.
Warnings: violence, choking, mild body horror, possible emetophobia triggers
AO3 Link
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
This weakness was not something Solas knew. While in the Fade he could taste old power, manipulate the tides surrounding him, as though he was still that which shook the world.
Here in the new world he had made, the air tasted of old decay; mortality and emptiness within him. Sometimes, despite the ever-present threat and grief that haunted every step he took, he still forgot his weakness.
It was one such weakness who called his name that day -- not with the sweetness he had grown accustomed to from her lips. No, this call was a cry for help. A scream, almost, if Lavellan would ever permit such breaks in decorum. It was gutteral. It was painful. Solas never wanted to hear it again. His sharp eyes swiftly sought the source, just barely caught the faintest flash of red hair, an outstretched hand reaching for him. The hoard of demons they still fought were carrying his heart towards the dark pit they had crawled from: to their master.
Solas played safe. Should have played safe. Taken stock and cleared the demons surrounding him still. Then retreated to the Fade where he could find and save her on turf familiar to him.
And yet, as he saw her fall limp and disappear beneath the ground, there was nothing he wanted more than bloodshed. The demons still surrounding turned their sick attentions to him now, and Solas felt the swell of rage consume him -- blinded by the painful aching in his heart as he broke into a sprint towards her. The dozens upon dozens of lumbering demons descending were scattered and dismembered; torn asunder. His rage narrowed his vision until, for a moment, Solas disappeared behind the mask of Fen'harel's maw. Magic crackled in the air, ripping and burning through each creature in turn, until he finally caught a glimpse of Lavellan mere feet below him.
She was unconscious; unmoving, and fear gripped his chest unbidden as he increased his efforts now to reach her. The corpses singed and bloodied he left in his wake were nothing to the fate of that which puppeteered these creatures, if it touched her. He could sense its foul magic here: a Pride demon.
Solas did not know what it might want with her, but he'd seen enough of them to know he did not wish to know it. The thought of his heart all alone within the Fade, her fragile strength preyed upon and toyed with made Solas nauseous. Or perhaps that was the warning of his dwindling strength beginning to fade.
Still, he carved his way downward with bared teeth and predator eyes flashing with desperation as he neared her. Too late he realised that the buzz and crackle of power around was not only his own -- it was the demon's. It lumbered in, puppeteering some poor mage it had possessed prior, and eyed the Inquisitor with dangerous, hungry eyes filled with malice.
Solas hissed out a curse and opted to leap down the winding path, to land directly beside Miriel there. He gathered her into his arms, throwing a blast of pure magic to throw back any lesser demon standing, before carrying her backwards, resting her nearby and shielding her with his power.
The Pride demon-posessed young mage regarded him with thoughtful eyes and teeth bared in a grin that split the boy's face. It met the rage in Solas with a polite dip of its head that almost seemed to mock his lack of self-control, taunting him without a word, before it finally opened its foul lips to speak.
"I wondered if I might find you approaching if I took the precious anchor you so covet," it snarled, "Welcome, Solas."
"You will find she is much more than the anchor she possesses, Pride," he shot back with a careful, balanced calm the crackle of flame in his hand betrayed, "and you will regret touching that which is mine. State your business, name your bargains, and I will enjoy ripping them from your tongue."
"Are you certain you do not wish to reconsider your actions? Your vhenan may yet wake and witness your wrath."
"If she is to bear witness to my fury, I would have it be here, for her, so she knows she is protected. I will repeat: name your bargains. I know no demon goes to such lengths for mere play."
"You think I go to lengths for this? Oh, Dread Wolf, you have grown naive indeed that you would think this effort at all." The possessed boy's eyes glinted with a cruel amusement only growing as it watched him glance behind to make sure it was not heard speaking Solas's title so brazenly before Lavellan. "What troubles you? Oh, that is right: the girl does not know who you are and who she chose to place her fragile trust in."
"What do you want?" His patience thin, Solas took one step closer, brandishing the flame he clutched as if to stoke it. "You have a body to puppet. Why taunt me here?"
The demon smiled again, "Which is the stronger of the two, I wonder: your desire to protect her, or your finely crafted image?”
Confusion swirled inside his mind, so clouded by concern for Lavellan that he could not grasp what it wanted. He might have decided to kill it outright, were Solas not still curious.
“I see you still don’t understand. How slow you have become in uthenera; or perhaps the girl weakens you?” The possessed boy stepped closer still, its stench assaulting Solas’ nose as it stood boldly toe to toe with him now. “Take her arm, or take this boy’s life. Either way, wolf, you will lose her.”
Of course that was its plan to weaken them, Solas realised with a low, bitter laugh. This pitiful excuse for Pride, it seemed, would have him choose between two perceived slights: to have his love see through the lies he weaved, or else lose her to keep the Anchor safe.
“An interesting play, or just the offer of a creature far too weak to know the power that he faces,” Solas hummed, “The life of one mage will not be enough to sway Lavellan from the bond we share — or could you not have known this?”
“Solas? What..?”
Time slowed slightly as Lavellan’s voice carried from where she still lay, shielded. Solas realised a moment too late: recognition shone behind her eyes. This creature was puppeting an elf — one Lavellan knew, or so it seemed.
Before Solas could move or speak a word the demon held him with an unseen grasp. He lamented his weakness as he froze, forced still to silence him against its lies. Solas could only watch as its breaths heaved, an imitated show of fear for her.
”M-Miriel!” It cried with the boy’s tongue, “I tried to stop him, Gods, I swear I tried!”
Lavellan’s eyes widened as she finally took in the form before her, “Fenedhis! Aric, is that you?”
”You have to help me!” ‘Aric’ cried, shooting a look to Solas before lifting a hand to the shield he still held. Solas felt his stomach clench with fury as her hand met his through the barrier, grateful he still had the strength to keep the wall between them.
“I woke up here after the clan was attacked, there’s a demon— I don’t know what it wants but I think— oh, Gods, Mir…” It was a convincing performance, Solas had to admit, as the demon trembled, sobbing now in earnest. Lavellan’s gaze flicked from her ‘friend’ now to Solas, scrutinising as it was concerned. She took in his unmoving stance, the bodies littering the floor, then slowly dragged her eyes back to the demon.
“What happened? How did you get here? Why are you holding us like this?”
”The barrier’s not mine,” it whimpered softly, “Y-your friend, I-.. think he’s possessed. He went crazy, started raving about killing me!”
More sobs, and Solas thought he might be sick if he had to keep watching this play out.
Lavellan stepped back in shock, her eyes piercing into Solas, and he could feel his heart break at the pain there. He cursed his weakened state, wishing he’d conserved his strength so he might have fought these damned restraints Pride had him held in. He steeled himself, trying to gather his magic so he might break free, but only succeeded in breaking his concentration on the barrier.
With sick eyes glinting slyly back at him, the demon swept in to hug Lavellan, its grip just a little too tight — and then, in one swift motion, gripped her by the throat.
”How weak you both are, here, alone at last. No Inquisition left to save you now. You should not have come out here all alone; what did you think would come of your hubris?” The demon dropped its pretence all at once, grinning smugly that it had lured them here, and Solas sneered as he realised the truth: it had no deal to make here from the start. This creature cared only to trap them here; to catch them unaware and praise itself.
The Inquisitor fought and kicked as the demon tightened its grip, her hands scrambling weakly at its flesh suit. It deftly used its other hand to pluck her knives out of her belt and toss them far out of reach, then grasp her wrist, where the Anchor still pulsed weakly, its jagged scar marring the skin of her palm.
“What use is this to you now, chosen one?” It taunted with a wicked, gurgling laugh, “The Herald of Andraste and her pet, last seen frolicking in some ruined cave. The only alone time they ever got was the last breaths they shared as they both died.”
A desperate roar broke from behind clenched teeth as Solas called upon whatever strength he had in one last tempest. Lavellan’s strength began to wane at the same moment, only spurring him on as he finally burst forward. Rough hands dragged the possessed mage back by his hair, forcing the demon to drop Miriel to the floor with a cry that only stoked his rage further.
“She is mine,” the Dread Wolf growled, his power crackling in his hands again as he finally rounded on it. The demon snarled, its body cracked and crunched as it began to mutate; grotesque spines and bulbous bulges sprouting on its body until whatever was left of Aric was unrecognisable.
The Abomination advanced, taking a swipe at Solas only to lose its hand to a swipe of magic. The pungent smell of rot and pus followed the spill of corrupted blood as from its stub it quickly grew a new arm. Sidestepping another attack, the demon threw another swipe at Solas.
This one connected, and Solas stumbled backwards as he felt the sting of its claws tear into his forearm. He carved an arc of ice across the abomination’s torso, earning a screech of pain as it tore through flesh, carving a satisfying gash that oozed and bubbled with corruption.
Still he did not finish this fight, though Solas knew he easily could, opting to instead grip its throat with fire: a tendril of the darkest flame pulled from the dark pits of his rage that coiled and grasped at everything it could reach. First its throat, then both its wrists, then both its ankles, lifting it into the air.
”Let this be a warning to the creatures that might follow in your footsteps and decide to toy with my heart. If I so much as catch a glimpse of you within the Fade, know that the pain awaiting there is far beyond this.”
He could feel the power draining from his fingers as he tugged the demon spread-eagled where it suspended far above him, tearing its limbs slowly away.
His vision had begun to swim, but still Solas did not let up, determined to make it feel the pain she did. To show it what it really meant to wound the one thing he held far more pride in than anything it could dream up. Lavellan was more than his heart. She was his pride and his light among darkness.
This thing had tried to snuff her out, and now it tasted just a fraction of the consequences for that action. The fire he cast began to fade but rather than let it be done, he lifted his second hand with a rough shout. Winds whipped around the demon’s form, slicing thousands of tiny cuts into its flesh.
”Solas!” Miriel cried out, her voice imploring him to stop. It almost worked, but Solas still held his ground. He knew she would not let him be: she’d plead and call and try to distract him from his own single-minded purpose, but he could not find the will to break his violent trance just yet, too wrapped up in the danger and frustration that he’d even let it get this far.
He watched with dark, impassive eyes as he tore the abomination slowly limb from limb to jagged pieces. “Solas, that’s enough!” Lavellan shouted from somewhere behind, and he just barely registered the shaking. His hands shook, his whole body shook. The edges of his vision were beginning to fade.
A knife flew past his ear, so dangerously close to clipping him that for a moment he lost concentration. The weapon plunged into its skull just as the flames and winds died out, and the beast finally hit the ground; lifeless. Solas didn’t notice when he had fallen, but Lavellan was already there.
She caught him as his legs gave out, her strength betraying any pain he knew she must have felt with such an action. Uneasy silence fell at last, and as the anger finally passed he felt the squeeze of guilt begin to set in. He had just killed who was once a friend of his love, and violently at that. Still he felt her gentle hand upon his cheek, caressing him with such undeserved care.
”That's it, vhenan. Just take a breath and let your strength recover, now... You didn't have to go that far for me, love." Her thumb stroked gentle caresses across his cheek, catching a tear he had not noticed falling as she soothed him. Solas met her glittering eyes with a painful ache of fondness in his chest.
He did not deserve this kind of tenderness, to see her so wrapped up in him while he could still taste the blood, "I am sorry, my heart-- I should have acted with more care. I did not want for you to see me so... pernicious. And your friend, I-... should not have acted with such malice. It was a mistake."
Miriel shook her head with a dark smile. He could see the sadness there, but saw her swallow it for his sake. He lifted shaking fingers to reach for the bruises on her throat, the sight stoking the embers of his fury, but she caught him; taking his hand into hers before he could waste the energy.
"Please, Solas, you don't have to fuss. You're not the only mage in Thedas -- I can get this seen too in a heartbeat. Right now I'm more concerned for you: I've never seen you so incensed. What happened after I was taken down here?"
"It is nothing," he breathed softly, shaking his head and blinking away the vertigo. "Pride Demons delight in trying to break the will of those who are not... lacking, in their specific area. Seeing them take you from me, it... ignited something in me I have not felt the likes of in a long time. A moment of weakness, I fear, and one that will not happen again."
Lavellan's eyes widened for a moment, softening as his words slowly sunk into an almost wry smirk. "You mean to say, my love, that all of this was for your wounded pride? Fenedhis, if that is what it looks like... well, perhaps we shall have to explore that further in more... controlled conditions."
Solas could not help but chuckle darkly her suggestion, and at the unknowingly apt choice of curse. He tried to force himself upright, concerned that they were wasting time that anything could use to sneak up on them, but the nausea and dizziness forced him down again, his limbs unbearably weak.
Lavellan hushed him as a groan broke from his throat against his will, frustration still bubbling at his weakness. She pressed another kiss to his damp forehead, shrugging off her coat to rest under his head so she could leave him, swaying slightly but a damned sight stronger than he was at present.
“I won’t be long,” she reassured, then ran off up and out, her footsteps weaving daintily through all the corpses. She reappeared after a moment of uncomfortable silence, and tutted as she caught him trying to get to his feet while she was away, ushering him back to the ground with a stern gesture. In her hand she held an assortment of medicinal herbs she must have gathered from the meadows above, and Solas watched her draw her knife and find a rock untouched by demon blood to crudely pulp the herbs together.
“Forgive the taste,” she hummed as she pressed the leaves gently into his mouth. The leaves were bitter, stinging at the insides of his mouth even as she offered her waterskin to ease it. Still, Solas could not complain beyond grimacing as he swallowed, immediately feeling strength returning. “Interesting. You do not, in fact, burst into flame upon contact with Dalish ways!”
”Ha ha,” Solas returned dryly, flexing his hands as he slowly felt the blood rush back to his fingers at last. The herbs would not sustain him long, but provided no further trouble come for them, he’d make it back to Skyhold. “Thank you, vhenan. Are you alright? You look pale; should we hold on—“
”Solas,” she laughed, “As of right now I am upright and you are on the ground. I know this isn’t something you’re accustomed to, but I assure you I will carry myself without your aid. I may be prone to fainting spells and you to swooping in to save me, but I think your pride can take one last blow.”
”You are right, of course,” he chuckled, accepting her hand and finally standing. “Though, perhaps our friends back at Skyhold might remain ignorant of what happened here? My pride is wounded enough.”
Lavellan grinned, “Then it’s a deal: I’ll tell no-one I all but had to revive you, and in return you’ll let me take care of you. Just this once, love. You already do so much, let me shoulder your burden tonight.”
With tenderness be thought himself incapable of any more, he traced the line of her jaw with his fingers. Tipping her chin to meet his gaze, he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, the warmth breathing new life into his old bones. “I think my pride can accept your bargain, vhenan. After you, then.”
As he watched her saunter away, Solas followed with a pang in his heart. This was too much. It was dangerous. But, Gods help him, he could not bring himself to care.
(( okay but can we talk about how The Rockrose and the Thistle by The Amazing Devil is perfect for a Solavellan in which Lavellan chooses to try and 'save' him in Trespasser?
The way it perfectly encompasses the journey of him finding her confused and in pain, trying to keep a distance from her as she tries to keep hold of everything she is (and I find you all unwoven // trying desperately to sew // and i know the kindest thing // is to leave you alone)
and he sees her pain and confusion but also her strength, her rage and spirit (I could try to calm you down // but I know you won't)
slowly his desire to take care of her and love her overpowers his better judgement, even if he is unsure what to do with it all (All the pins inside your fretted head // and your muttered whens and hows // all your mother's weaves and your father's threads // let me rob them of you now)
and he comes to realise how desperately he needs her, wishes to see her safe and healthy and happy and free of burden (Cause I'll darn you back together // when you think that you're bereft // and you'll wail, you'll scream, but I'll never stop // cause it's all that I have left)
and then it slowly fades into the woman's voice that has only been whispering, echoing his words to him, until now at the end coughTRESSPASSERcough when his strength fades out, and the duty of care becomes hers (And I know the kindest thing // I pray to God it's the kindest thing // I know the kindest thing // is to never leave you alone)
as veilguard's premiere comes closer, an ask game with a couple of lore-heavy questions for your warden/hawke/inquisitor — answer for all three in your canon worldstate, or for the protagonist of your choice.
your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor's opinion on Orlais?
are they skilled in The Grand Game?
opinion on blood magic?
attitude towards Andrastianism?
attitude towards the Chantry?
attitude towards the Qun?
if they had to choose one person most important to them, who would that be?
who do they hate the most, and do they have an arch-nemesis?
what is their love language?
are they good horse riders?
what are their religious beliefs, if any?
attitude towards Mabari?
their thoughts on the Grey Warden order?
who are they closest to from their family?
preferred weapon of choice?
do they get sentimental about their weapons or armour?
what were they like as a child?
do they have any irrational fears?
are they afraid of death?
where would they like to be buried?
what is their biggest regret?
have they ever been to Tevinter?
do they have, or want to have, children?
what languages can they speak?
what did they plan for their life to look like before the events of the game happened?
highkey so sick of these petite white blonde modded Lavellans out here lookin like Legolas with iphone face and a tiktok filter. Fuckin bully-me-in-highschool ass elves. Why she look like that. Fuck up her face a lil bitch is a nomadic clan protector she ain't gonna walk out of the Conclave explosion lookin like she paused midway through running from fear demons to fix her lipgloss
thinking about how i'm gonna have to make 44 year old Miriel in Dragon Age (the) Veilguard and then watch as she finally faces Solas after thinking she was finally moving on
while he has to see the trauma he left her with written on her face in blood
"Let me what?" Without skipping a beat, Adris was in front of her. Her hand was on Miriel's cheek, forcing her to meet her gaze again. "Touch you? Help you? Miri... I don't care how broken you think you are. I don't care that you still love him, or that you want to help him. I care that you can survive until then. I care that you can learn to heal. I care-!"
Miriel couldn't stop herself. Adris' lips were soft and warm as Lavellan stole them into hers, barely hesitating for a moment before they explored her in return. Even as tears streaked Miri's cheeks they didn't part, pulling closer together until their bodies were pressed in a tight embrace. Even as they parted for air, they remained together; breathless and shivering with the strength of the emotion washing between them.
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A fandom doodle for OC Kiss Week today! This is Miriel, my Lavellan pictured right, with her post-game beaux Adris Sabrae.
Miri is a rogue artificer who is chronically ill and,,, more than a little traumatised. Being Inquisitor, losing her clan, then losing Solas was enough to basically break her until Adris came along to pick up the pieces. This particular scene is inspired by a fic I wrote about them both (smutty after the kiss, just to warn ye) <3
