Whumptober 2021 No. 23 - YOU BREAK IT, YOU BUY IT
pursuit
Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition
POV Character: femme!Lavellan
Whumpee: Lavellan
Warnings: chase, nightmares, death
Lavellan is still tormented by her greatest fears: humans. Solas cannot bear to hear her suffer.
Read on AO3
She was running again. The world around her was darkness and green glow, the distant smell of blood and steel accompanying the shouts from behind her; shemlens splattered with the blood of her kin. She stumbled and tripped through the pitch of this unnatural world, pure adrenaline pushing her aching legs forward, past the twisted bodies of her clan, past the abominations of her Keeper and their First, desperately reaching for a light that only seemed to be moving further from her the closer she moved; remaining ever at arm's reach just past her fingertips.
She blinked, and she was running through stone streets with bright, extravagant houses looming over her. The shems behind were Orlesian now, faces obscured by masks save for their mouths twisted into sickening sharp-toothed grins as they brandished swords and crossbows in her direction. She tripped, stubbing her toe on an uneven cobble, and as she plummeted to the ground the sky rose around her.
Shivering, she pushed to her feet again. Snow? Was this Haven? No time to dwell on that, as over the horizon was a handful of Chantry members, tailed by blood mages and red templars. They carried the heads of her fellow Inquisition members. Panic gripped her chest; the knowledge of failure and the flickering image of the cursed future she'd seen with Dorian. She turned to run again, stumbling in the snow, blindly trying to escape...
Only to run headfirst into another figure. She struggled and fought against its hold, blind in panic for a long moment, but they held strong. Firm. Comforting? Familiar. "...Solas?"
Slowly, hesitantly, she looked up. There he was, gazing down at her with sympathetic eyes, his arms wrapped around her like he was physically shielding her from it all. It was only as she acknowledged him that he spoke, smiling in the way that never failed to melt her to a pulp. "An'eth, ma vehnan."
The air was warm, scented subtly with petrichor and burning spices; smells of home. Of familiarity and safety. The ground was still soft underfoot but now it felt spongey, like grass and soil. Miriel blinked, looking around. She was in a forest; the Dales? Wherever it was, it was a welcome change. "What happened?"
"I heard you calling in your sleep." The low rumble of Solas' voice was soothing against her ear as she rested her head gently against his chest. "I thought it best to join you. Your pain is remarkably difficult to ignore, fenorain."
"This is just a dream," she realised, her body immediately trembling with the revelation as the adrenaline left her and the fear and fatigue took over. Her legs gave out, and Solas carefully eased her to the ground; still holding her tightly as she dissolved into tears.
"They can't hurt you here," he murmured, "Ame ghilana vhenas, lathlan. Be safe from the world of the waking as long as you need. I will be there when you wake up."
And he was. When she finally opened her eyes, cheeks streaked with tears even here, he was sat at the foot of her bed; head bowed and hand resting on hers. He stirred, opening gentle grey-brown eyes to meet hers, and smiled.
