Thank you, @tevivinter and @alxxiis darlings! ❤️ Inquisition Solesta fluff for @dadrunkwriting 😘
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They had begun before dawn, charging the mine, freeing the captives, clearing out the Red Templars. They didn't reach Suledin Keep until mid-afternoon, but their momentum demanded they take the Keep; to fall back would have only given Imshael and the Templars time to regroup or worse, relocate. Clearing the small army of Shadows, Horrors, and Behemoths was taxing enough, not to mention keeping the Rage and Pride demons at bay while the Inquisitor closed Rift after Rift. By the time they faced that damned Desire demon, they were all running on healing potions and fumes.
Solas had spent the evening with Dorian and a few other mages, tending to the injured refugees from the Sahrnia mine. He hadn't felt his Mana so drained since first waking from Uthenera. Now that night had finally fallen and the temperature had dropped, he found himself too exhausted even to summon heat to his hands to keep them warm. The mulled cider and hot stew from dinner had helped for a little while, but now, tucked into his bedroll, he couldn't keep himself from shivering.
"Solas?"
Halesta's voice cut through the dark, giving him a start. She had laid down an hour before, and he had assumed she was asleep, as she didn't stir when he came in.
"Hm?" Turning his head to see her lying on her side, watching him curiously.
"You're cold," A question posed as a statement.
"I am too weary," Teeth chattering between words, "My Mana...."
It was hard to tell, as she had sat up slightly and was shifting her bedroll over to his, but he thought he saw her roll her eyes. Reaching across him, she moved her blanket beneath his, a new layer of pre-heated insulation. Humming gratefully, but his voice still quaked. He nearly jumped when she laid back down, her nose nearly touching the tip of his own, the warmth of her breath against his lips.
"Give me your hands," Using her Inquisitor tone, not asking but ordering.
He obeyed, uncrossing his arms and reaching out slowly, vision blocked by the blankets. Catching his wrists, she pressed his palms together and, with an air of casual practicality, placed them between her thighs. His whole body tensed at the sudden and thoughtless intimacy. Though he hadn't closed his eyes, it felt as though his vision returned abruptly. Halesta chucked, observing him with an amused fondness.
"Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?" Her voice, soft as starlight, wry as a crescent moon, smiling even as she closed her eyes.
The awareness of his every nerve burned like coal since she had first brushed his skin with her hand to wrap him in her blanket. Now his numb fingers tingled painfully from the heat of her thighs: skin soft and immersing as molten rock. Just like the rest of her. Settling into sleep again, her hands fell naturally against his chest. Entirely unbothered by the ice cold of his skin, her breath slow, shallow waves. Still, he couldn't take his eyes off of her dimly lit face. Oh no, awareness overtaking him as a crashing feeling instead of actual words in his mind: I love her too much. I love her, and she will destroy me, and I will let her destroy me because I love her. Worse still, this feeling came without panic or urgency, but with a warm sense of cozy contentment. It felt, strangely enough, like falling asleep.
