Here is a little drabble based off of a post by @ancientarsehole that said: Okay, but imagine for a second. Lavellan is having a bad dream, but Solas is already awake. It’s too late to alter it now, even if he felt that he should, so he touches Lavellan’s shoulder and wakes her. “What did you dream?” “That you were gone.”
I’m sorry, I tried to find the link for your original post, but I couldn’t get to it. ;_;
But this also features the wonderful OC of @savvylittleminx, Delmi! I hope you all enjoy~
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Feverish Nightmare
Words: 1842
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It had been a long and trying day for the Inquisitor and her group that were out in the field. There were some lingering rifts that had yet to be closed out on the Storm Coast and they had been becoming a problem for the few people that resided out there and the Inquisition outposts. When Delmi heard of this, she set her team together and headed out the moment they had time to spare. They had arrived late in the night, the winds blowing and the rain pouring (like always), so they decided to get some rest before setting out early in the morning.
It seemed to rain harder than it ever had on any previous journeys to the coast and the rain felt as though it were chilling their very bones. Dorian made sure to voice this in intervals. Still, Delmi led them on with determination on her face, refusing to let them see that the weather was truly dousing her mood. They encountered one rift and fought the demons off until Delmi could successfully flick her wrist and unleash the power of the Anchor to sew it shut. Bull attempting at pumping them up at their victory to give them encouragement to go on to the next one. The other three appreciated his efforts, but it made it no easier to slog through the mud and climb the steep cliffs.
The second one was more challenging. The demons felt stronger and there were a few more to defeat before Delmi could close the rift, a tingling pain shooting up her arm when she did so. She winced and flexed her hand when they were done and Solas came to stand at her side, brows drawn with concern. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, fine. We have a couple more, we should hurry so we can get out of this weather,” she replied quickly, flashing him a tired smile.
“It’s too late for me. I do fear I shall freeze over. Or drown first. Whichever may happen,” Dorian murmured, pulling his hood back over his head.
Delmi didn’t voice aloud that she felt the same, though she truly did. She doubted she’d ever get the mud out of her clothes and it felt as though she would never be warm again. But it was time to get to the third rift.
The third was much like the second, forcing them all to fight hard and the mages had to take sips of lyrium potions to regain their strength. Delmi physically jolted when she used the Anchor, hissing between her teeth. It had been a long time since she’d used the mark so much in a single day - not since the Hinterlands. She had pushed herself hard to close as many as possible, though with the great sacrifice of needing several days rest and a thorough scolding from Solas. She’d grown stronger, as had the mark, so the pain was not as horrid as it was then, but it was still enough to cause great discomfort. Solas checked with her once more as she shook her arm out and cleared her throat to fight off a cough. “Should we take rest and leave the last one for tomorrow?” he asked gently.
“No,” she denied strongly. “We’re nearby - closer to the rift than to the nearest camp. Let’s just close it and be done with it.” She sniffled and gestured to the men. “Let’s go. One more.”
“Are you certain?” Dorian called after her as she began to march.
“I’m not made of glass!” was her retort, neither angry nor annoyed.
The trio all exchanged an unconvinced look, but hurried after her nonetheless, no one making a third attempt at stopping her.
By time the fourth was reached, the daylight was nearly gone and the temperature had fallen even lower. At the least, the rift itself was not as challenging as the previous two. Bull managed to end the battle with a throaty roar and a swing of his axe directly into the chest of a despair demon. Delmi raised her hand on cue and cried out as the magic connected and snapped the rift closed. The moment it vanished, she fell to a knee, cradling her hand, which felt as though it was on fire.
Then again...her face also felt like it was burning.
And her hands were clammy...and…
“Delmi!!” the men shouted, rushing to her side. Solas wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned forward to look her in the face. His eyes narrowed and without her permission, he reached an arm and pressed the inside of his wrist to her forehead, withdrawing quickly.
“Delmi, you’re running a bad fever. We need to get back to camp.”
She had no strength left to argue or deny her symptoms. She felt like the last rift had completely sucked out the rest of her energy. Her throat was dry and scratchy. Her body was roasting even though she was drenched from the freezing rain. Her arm ached something fierce and she shut her eyes, trying to will her pain and discomfort away, but she couldn’t focus on anything else. She was scooped up by someone - presumably Bull - and was carried off in a hurried stride.
Solas was fairly certain that Delmi didn’t recall the brisk jog back to the nearest camp. She began to visibly shudder in Bull’s arms and he saw her lips move, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying...if she was actually saying anything. His heart clenched with worry. He knew she’d been pushing herself too much. He should have insisted that they stop for the night so that he could have at least tended to the Anchor. He noted how tightly she was clenching her hand that bore the mark and that reoccurring guilt stabbed him in his gut.
It was his fault that she was suffering. The least he could do was ensure that she get better quickly from her fever.
Naturally, the camp that was closest did not have anyone that was skilled in healing, so it was left to Solas and Dorian to do what they could. They claimed a large, warm tent and went to work, Bull hovering nearby in case he could be of use. They used spells to dry both her and her clothes so that they wouldn’t need to require undressing her. Solas held her tight fist and let some of his magic flow into the mark, trying to soothe it and lessen her pain. Dorian called for some mixture of herbs that he crushed up and put in a drink for her to swallow.
Once they had done all they could, Solas volunteered to take the first watch. He remained by her side, staring with great intent at her face as she attempted at resting. Her eyes flickered behind her closed lids and her body would occasionally twitch, but for the most part, she was relatively still. Dorian brought him warm broth to eat and told him to come find him should her condition change. Solas nodded in agreement and began to slowly eat the broth.
He found himself impatient and restless, despite the purely exhausting day they’d had. When he finished his broth, he set the bowl on the floor and took to slowly pacing about the cot where Delmi was buried under a stack of furs. Even in her feverish state, she was beautiful. She was strong. She was caring. She was wise. She meant so much to him.
And that frightened him. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He wasn’t supposed to get attached to anyone, least of all romantically. But when they kissed, a spark had lit and a fire burned within him that wasn’t easily smothered, not even from the insistent and powerful rains of the Storm Coast. When he looked at her, he wanted to draw the Anchor from her, take all of her pain and suffering and cast it away. He wanted her to be happy...but with him. He couldn’t be so selfish. He had a higher purpose to fulfill. Which is why...when they recovered the orb, he needed to…
He was snapped from his thoughts when a scout poked his head into the tent, asking for Solas. He was slightly annoyed to have to take his eyes off of his vhenan, but he walked over to see what the man had to say. He gave him a couple of updates on activity in the area, a few messages that needed to be passed along to Delmi when she woke, and he confirmed that there were no remaining rifts in the area. He announced the last one with a weary smile of relief. Solas nodded and thanked him, glad to be left alone once more.
However, when he turned and faced Delmi again, she was twisting about on the cot, softly moaning and reaching out with a hand. His brows furrowed and he hurried to her side. She was having a dream? Should he go into the Fade and…? No. It seemed too late for that, especially by time he managed to get into the Fade. He instead gently grasped her shoulder and shook her, leaning close to murmur her name.
It took several tries to get her to rouse, but when she did, her eyes jerked open and she gave a strangled gasp. Her gaze darted to Solas and he saw a rush of emotions flash through her before she finally relaxed. He trailed his hand from her shoulder down to her hand and he laced his fingers with her, squeezing gently. “It is okay, Vhenan. You are safe. You were dreaming.”
She nodded slowly, but silently, as if needing to absorb what he had said.
“What...did you dream of?” he asked softly.
That one question made a few tears spring to Delmi’s eyes and made Solas both sad and concerned. He squeezed her hand again and she looked over at him. She whispered, “That you were gone. That you had left.”
A chill ran through Solas’s body as he went still as a statue.
“It was sudden… I needed you and you just… You were walking away.” Her voice was quiet and scratchy, quivering with emotion. “I’m sorry. It was just a dream.”
Those last words snapped him from his frozen state. “I am here,” he assured her. “I will be here while you sleep and I will be here when you wake. You have nothing to fear, not tonight. For now, focus on resting and getting better.”
She gave a slow nod and stared into his eyes for a few more long moments before allowing them to slide shut. She quickly fell back into a rhythmic cycle of deep breaths, her grip on his hand loosening. Solas, on the other hand, held her hand even tighter and dipped his head down, propping it against the side of the cot.
He needed to add another tally mark to his growing list of lies.
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