Written for @thelighthouse-server's DreadFluff Weekend 2026:
Feb 15 - Prompt: Happily Ever After
(click on the image or here for ao3 link)
The antique door swung open to slowly reveal the last person in the city he expected to see, and Solas blinked at her several times before finally understanding she wasn’t a mirage. “Rook?” But it wasn’t just Rook – it was the woman underneath The Rook’s mask. He’d never seen her without it before and, come to think of it, she’d never seen him without his, either. How she knew who he was and where to find him was a mystery he fully intended to solve later. Right now, there were more pressing questions. “What are you doing here?”
“I... I had nowhere else to go.” Her mask was pushed up onto her head, revealing a distraught expression resting on a beautiful face, and she was hunched in on herself as though she expected to be hit. “I’m sorry, I can—”
He didn’t need to hear more. Solas pushed open the door the rest of the way and wordlessly gestured for her to enter. With the assistance of the bright ceiling lamp, he began to pick out fresh injuries blooming on her face. She stood meek and trembling while he locked the door behind her, not comfortable enough to venture any further into the house. There was no resistance as he gently removed her mask and began turning her face back and forth to examine it more closely.
Enough time lapsed in his contemplations that she nervously broke the silence with, “You don’t have to—”
The smudges that initially looked like dust around her throat were resolving into distinct finger-shaped bruises, and similar round marks that could have only been the tips of someone’s strong digits digging into her jaw were darkening by the moment. Around her eye, green and blue circles were already turning ruddy and ochre, and the split in her bottom lip kept oozing blood even though she’d been taking care not to aggravate it. In short, she’d had the shit beaten out of her.
Solas always knew he was a sentimental man. It would get worse on days like this, when the passage of time seemed incredulously fast, moments between now and then a mere blink. She would joke that her time with him must have been just a drop in the sea of time he had waded since before time had any measurement. The sea could drown you, a drop could quench your thirst.
A lazy morning in the Lighthouse, years after Thedas was saved.
Read on AO3
Written for DreadFluff Weekend 2026, @thelighthouse-server
summary: solas understands sasha's unique view of the world (and romance). he gifts accordingly. happy dreadfluff weekend!!! 💕 💕 pls pretend this counts for the romance tropes prompt cause it was a very unplanned creation sob 💀 @thelighthouse-server
author rambling: this idea came from nowhere so i let it consume me for several hours and wrote... something. things are in a massive slump for me lately and even if it's not great im gonna take what i can get! especially this weekend of all weekends 😭 im sorry boys, you deserve more. went with sasha's actual name instead of rook cause i wanted that to be what solas used<3 i don't have the energy to put it on ao3 right now but it will live there eventually.
"Sasha?"
"One second!"
The exaggerated way Sasha extended the one in his reply tipped up the corner of Solas' mouth. Rather than wait, he followed the voice.
Tiny, fluttering nerves began to plague his steps. Second guesses came with them.
He was out of practice at this- giving gifts, unasked for and not on the specified dates intended. Gifts for the sake of them. There was no one in his life to give gifts to for a very long time, and he could lay part of the blame for his anxiety there; the rest was entirely his personal creation.
Sasha looked to him with a smile as he entered the room, and all that fluttering turned into a clamoring, restless churn.
"Hi!" He spoke brightly, his happiness to see Solas laid plain. Solas was treated to a quick kiss with the greeting. "Too impatient to wait, huh?"
"Who could be patient in matters concerning the sight of your beauty?"
The words sounded more mocking than complimentary, but they were far from it; it was jest and praise in one. That was their way of things. Sasha laughed, reaching out to playfully nudge Solas' chest. He didn't blush, but Solas could tell he was pleased by the words.
"Yeah, alright. Well here's my beauty, " the word sarcastically exaggerated in the same manner, "so what's up? Do you need something?"
"What makes you think I am in need of anything?”
"Because, you never go around calling for me unless there's a purpose," Sasha pointed out plainly. "Not with my name."
"Ah."
Solas was blank on any reply. It remained a bit baffling, a bit surprising, when Sasha would say these sorts of things. Point out habits, make observations, mention things Solas himself did not recall bringing up at some point, but- Sasha remembered. He paid attention. He knew Solas.
What was once a frightening prospect brought Solas nothing but comfort now. A kind of peace that was missing from his life for so, so long. It soothed his nerves so swiftly; how could he not be content in its presence?
Solas knew Sasha, too. There was no need to second guess a decision first confidently made. He knew this was the exact sort of oddity Sasha would enjoy.
"Plus you have that out of proportion serious sort of look on your face, and you're all squared up, stick up your ass with your posture."
Sasha put both hands on Solas' shoulders and gave a firm push. Solas went with the movement, shoulders relaxing and the rest of his body following suit. But he did it with a look. Sasha returned a sweet, unphased grin.
Being known could be slightly irritating as well.
"That's better. So, what's on your mind?"
"Many things, but that is not why I sought you out. I have something to give you.”
"Oh! You do?"
It was Sasha's turn to be off balance. The question was skeptically asked, and his relaxed demeanor became slightly more guarded. Subtle things Solas saw plainly. It was because of familiarity that the shift didn't bother him. That he was privy to the vulnerability of Sasha's uncertainty meant more than anything else could.
"I do," Solas replied with a nod. "I happened upon it some time ago- I believe it was called an estate sale? A whole house up for the taking," and he did not hide the slight censure in his tone. It seemed a rather callous thing to do in his opinion.
Sasha frowned, and Solas knew this too was not for him. “Yeah. It's unfortunate, but at times a person's belongings have no other place to go.” It was far from ringing endorsement. You get me one of those massive portraits of somebody's great great grandfather?"
A carefully probing joke. Sasha was looking at him wairly.
"All sold out, I'm afraid." Solas retrieved the item currently burning a hole in his jacket pocket; a small leather pouch "This will have to do."
He offered it to Sasha; there was a blink-and -miss-it second of hesitance before he took it.
"Thanks. Should I...?"
"If you'd like. If you'd rather open it later, that is no problem."
Solas was near overflowing with his emotions and the anticipation was gnawing, but he wanted to remain at ease for Sasha's sake. When it came to things like this, the more on the spot Sasha felt, the more worked up he was likely to get. Solas gave the pouch and not the contents for that reason; he could look inside when he was ready.
Sasha gave the pouch the slightest shake. Then, carefully- and to Solas' immensely pleased relief- he loosened the drawstring to open it up.
Solas watched Sasha's nimble fingers. His face. He did not need to pay attention to what he took out, wishing to take in the whole of Sasha in this moment far more.
A silver heart at the end of a silver chain. The front of the heart was beautifully etched with patterned, swirling lines, one side a mirror of the other. The back was near untouched; a perfectly smooth silver surface marked by two letters.
LN
It was well made jewelry. Likely custom done and expensive. Both the chain and charm were somewhat tarnished by age, but there were no flaws to it otherwise.
Polishing would have destroyed the charm of the piece. Removed its history. The chain was broken when Solas purchased it, and he chose to get it repaired rather than replaced for those same reasons. This was not jewelry to be worn; it was more meaningful than that could ever be.
Sasha laid the heart on the flat of his palm. "I've seen jewelry like this before. Either worn by the dead or buried with a loved one." There was familiar reverence in his voice as his finger traced the smooth shape. A cherry red nail popped the small clasp open.
"I was not able to find out anything about the necklace itself. I assume it belonged to the owner of the house, but I suppose it could also be a family heirloom."
Inside were two marvelously detailed portraits. A young man was painted on one side and a young woman on the other. The artistry on display in such a small space was astonishing; both wore subtle expressions that spoke of happiness.
Closed safely inside with them was a small scrap of blue cloth.
"The fabric piece was inside. Considering it looks aged as well, it must be meant to be there."
Sasha lightly brushed his fingertip against the cloth with tender care. After paying it a proper moment of respect, he nudged it aside so it no longer obscures the portraits.
"I do not know what its significance might have been, but it must have held a great deal."
Solas' heart swelled in his chest. This was the reaction he hoped for. Sasha's focus was singular and though his head was slightly bowed, Solas could see the ways his eyes moved as he took in every detail of the locket.
"A thing once so personal being up for purchase... I thought it would be better if it went to someone who would appreciate it for what it was rather than what it could be."
And Sasha was that person. It was his job, to preserve the memories of the dead. More than that it was his passion. His small collection of similarly once beloved trinkets and baubles spoke to that. Things gifted, things found, things forgotten.
Solas thought it would fit nicely among them.
"So many people would see it that way. They'd look and see nothing but expensive jewelry.”
Sasha's words were quiet. This made his abrupt swiftness all the more unexpected; the fabric was put back in place, the locket closed, and the necklace tucked safe into the pouch.
Then Sasha threw his arms around Solas.
"I'm so happy you rescued it."
Sasha held tight to Solas, their faces pressed cheek to cheek. Solas circled Sasha's waist and gladly returned the intensity of the gesture.
"I love it, thank you. That you understood what a precious thing it is, and thought to get it for me..." Sasha's voice warbled. Then there was a snuffle and a clearing of his throat. "I love it," came again, more firmly stated.
"That needs no thanks. I find it difficult not to think of you, wanted or not."
Another tease. Another truth. Solas couldn't hear Sasha, but his quiet chuckle caressed his skin. He was content to stay like this as long as Sasha desired. He could stay forever.
When they parted enough to see each other once more, Sasha's eyes were slightly glassy, but held fondness. His whole face radiated joy. This was a Sasha not as often seen and it pleased Solas to coax it out once more.
"You are most welcome, vhenan."
That joy became Solas’, too. Filled him, wrapped around him, cradled his body the same way strong arms did. The softest warmth imaginable. He pulled Sasha close again, seeking a more lingering kiss. He would stay in this moment as long as it lasted; when it passed, he would simply make more.
Written for @thelighthouse-server's DreadFluff Weekend 2026:
Feb 14 - Prompt: Romance Tropes [forced proximity, enemies to lovers, touch-starved]
(click on the image or here for ao3 link)
“Have you suddenly become a god?” he prods. “Has there been an addition to the pantheon of minor Thedas deities that I have missed?”
The deceptively mild tone in his voice as it slithers at her forces a huffed chuckle. “Not that I’m aware of, o god of sarcasm,” she mutters darkly, peering up at him through her eyelashes. His aquiline nose appears particularly hawkish from this angle, but no strange perspective could change her opinion that, even though he’s an asshole and a threat to the very existence of her world, he’s also irritatingly handsome.
“I see.” One half of his mouth is drawn up with amusement; he’s pleased with her recalcitrant response and the reference to their very first Fade conversation. “Then perhaps you can enlighten me on how you planned to stop two blighted dragons attacking cities at opposite ends of northern Thedas? I will concede that you are a mage of considerable skill, Rook, but I believe even I would have had trouble dividing myself in order to protect both populations.”
Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “Wow, don’t come for me all at once.”
Solas scoffs, and with one hand wrapped around her bicep, drags her to her feet. “My point, if you choose to listen for a change, is that it was an impossible situation.”
