#amelin lavellan

[maabelasdaruth]

Bringing Solas on Blackwall's personal quest events as a shaming tactic / tutorial on how to admit to lying and war crimes and be redeemed by the Inquisitor

[maabelasdaruth]

"If you don't get fed love on a silver spoon, you'll learn to lick it off knives."

You never wanted silver spoons but her love was knives dipped in honey. Your All-Mother loved you only in compliance and you shaped yourself around her body. Oh the things we do to become worthy. A beast can only be fed scraps so long before they become the knife. When you are expected to betray yourself for love, she will call it betrayal when you don't. Nevermind she betrayed you first. How many times will you betray yourself for her memory?

We never had any silver spoons where I grew up loved in the dirt. There love meant keeping you alive, no matter how it hurts. Mamae loved me through her hopes and expectations, to mold me into the shape of a survivor. Gentle love will get you killed, but strict love was supposed to keep you safe. A lifetime trying to fill a role that was all you were ever supposed to be. How I tried to carve away all of me that did not fit within it. Do I want a love that hurts because my heart knows no other definition?

[maabelasdaruth]

Dating Banter / Praise Kink Solas

Amelin Lavellan (Inquisitor): Nice shot Solas!

Solas: Ma serannas, vhenan. ☺️

Sera: Ugh, get a room!

Dorian: Truely, if you continue to praise him like this I worry his ego will be too big for Skyhold.

[maabelasdaruth]

"You're being grim and fatalistic in the hopes of getting me into bed, aren't you?" I tease him, knowing the words that should come next as I do.

"I am grim and fatalistic," he says so beautifully, "getting you into bed is an enjoyable side benefit.'

It's exactly as rehearsed and I have my counter sentiment, translated into elven already.

"Telanadas. Mana amelin in bella'vunin."

(Nothing is inevitable. There is hope in everyday.)

I let the ancient elven echo in the space between us, seeing how his eyes flash at the sound of his native tongue. The look of loving and longing on his face is mixed with pain and unspoken regrets as he stares in wonder at my statement. Though his trademark paternalistic condescention begins to creep into his face the longer I let his thoughts run without interruption.

Finally, I ask my question.

"Which is it ma lath, banal nadas o nadas'shivanas?'

(Which is it my love, no fate or the fate of duty?)

The poorly covered surprise and sudden suspicion in his face as he stares at me makes me realize I may have pushed too far with this one. I could have made a joke about coming back to bed for an enjoyable night with me tonight. But I wanted to push him, wanted to show him that I see him. Wanted to get closer to the truth even if it hurts. I still could pivot back to fliriting but I don't want to yet. In the discomfort of the moment I can feel his growing uncertainty underneath all our lies and I hope it is not just a projection of my own.

"Ameli na shirala bana'asal," He speaks finally as he tucks a piece of hair back behind my ear, I lean into his touch.

(Hope is found with great difficulty.)

As he says it I realized his nickname for me has simply been the noun for my name. In the small moments of the night when he kisses my lips and cheeks and body and calls me, ma lath, ma vhenan, ma Ameli... My love, my heart, my hope...

"As difficult to find as it may be, hope never truly abandons you," I speak it like a vow as I interrupt the wanderings of his mind, "I'm a sucker for the dark and brooding type anyway so there's no need to decide today."

Fate and duty. Love and hope. I was the one who wanted a romance for the ages after all. I pull closer to him, pressing my body against his I reach up on my tippy toes and nibble on the bottom of his left ear.

"There's always tomorrow," I whisper into his ear, "and after an enjoyable night together I find my mind much clearer."

Or I'm just deeper bought into the lie of this? It is truly clarity or a tunnel vision that comes over me with the fading of everything else in the world beyond the two of us— It's a pleasure and a pain in every kiss, knowing that I have choosen this. Knowing that I actively choose this path. Knowing that everyday I continue to choose him. Knowing that no matter what I do, no matter how much I want him to choose me too; I have no control over his choices.

He may still choose duty over love.

I can only do the best I can. As I look up into his eyes so full of love and lust, I can only hope it's enough.

Telanadas. Mana amelin in bella'vunin.

(Nothing is inevitable. There is hope in everyday.)

[maabelasdaruth]

The reason I like Lavellan knew his identity the whole time as a alternative universe is because it's torturing Solas in exactly the same way he fucked over us, because now he has to go through the betrayal of her KNOWING THE WHOLE TIME who he was and what he was hiding while she was hiding a whole other side of herself and that's why she felt so comfortable telling you things, she's been playing off you this whole time but she's here and she says she loves you and wants to be with you and know you fully and she's currently undecided about the whole veil coming down plot in theory but it just cannot be his because it doesn't work and they could fix fate together if he would just trust her... -sighs-

[maabelasdaruth]

Solas after Trespasser seeing a shapeshifter Lavellan in every animal he comes across. He's wary of every animal he knows she can turn into, hoping it's her chasing him down, yet also praying she's somewhere far away, safe from the danger his path would drag her into.

[maabelasdaruth]

Amelin Lavellan after giving Briala the necklace that will reunite her with Celene: "I am a hopeless romantic, at heart. The man I love could burn the world down around me and I would still love him among its ashes."

[maabelasdaruth]

Matching scars is one of my favorite character dynamics, physical scars mirroring is cool but digging into the emotional wound of it is the best.

Our mother wounds play against each other like sandpaper, both of us have a hole where our father would be, our fears of abandonment leave us clinging to each other except for when that love becomes an intimacy to run away from in turn.

Running away because I only know how to harm those close to me and I don't want to hurt you unintentionally so I hurt us both intentionally. I run hoping maybe you'll think I'm worth chasing down. I chase you down holding onto the breadcrumbs of affection and the hope you'll let me close again.

What is love except for pain?