In pursuit of Motivation to get back in to writing, I’ve decided to throwback to that one time I kept @tel-abelas-mofo and I up until the wee hours of the night breaking our hearts.
Content warning for infidelity, brief mention of drug addiction, and typos.
I was just discussing OC names with @makelovenotbloodmagic, and apparently I have 11 fanfic OCs. This does not include their families, or even non-Inquisition based characters tbh. I must be stopped. (Right after I make 1 more so it's an even dozen.)
FOR U HAVE TO FIX WAT U DID: “Stop asking me to put out the inferno that you lit inside of me.”
Alright, so, some context on this for everyone: last night, as I’m in bed, @tel-abelas-mofo here messages me to ask if I’m going to bed soon. I ignore the fact that I’m already in bed, because I’m having a hard time sleeping anyway, though I do tell her she should be in bed. She says she wants someone to be irresponsible with, though.Well, I’m glad to oblige! I share the story I was just telling myself in my head as I tried to sleep, because I have so many AUs I know I can’t possibly write them all, so who cares about spoilers, right?
Edit: This is a 1950s AU.But, normally, I’m a happy ending girl. This fic? It’s an exception. A painful, painful exception. And it takes me until 3am to freaking tell it, bc mobile, so we’re both just crying in the middle of the gd night when we could have been sleeping and happy instead.. So this prompt is a fix-it fic for the fic that hurt us. The one that doesn’t exist outside my head and only two people know about. A fix-it fic for my own damn unwritten fic.Enjoy. @dadrunkwriting
He clung to her in thedoorway, desperate, pleading. His hands framed her face, an inch in front ofhis own. Her eyes were bright, shining with tears that feel freely in a facelined with exhaustion and grief; he knew he looked just the same. Her handsgripped his wrists, holding on but holding back. He swears he can feel herwedding band digging into him. The matching band is worn by another.
“Please,” he wasbegging her. “There must be something I can say, some promise I can make, tohave you choose me over him. I will do anything for you, ma vhenan, I swear it.”
But she shakes herhead, again and again. Her voice is thick, raspy, broken. “I chose him before Iever met you, my love. You were thechoice I should never have made.”
It is unfair. He neverhad a chance; if he had known her back then…
“Please, don’t do this, if only—” he begins, but she denies himagain.
“I can’t. I’m sorry.In another world—”
“Why not this one?” heinsists.
Her only answer was tokiss him. It is their final kiss, and it is an awful thing, sloppy and shakyand breathless and wet with tears.
“I’ll never forgetyou,” she promises.
He can’t let her go,he won’t, but she pulls his hands slowlyoff of her and darts out the door. He watches, numb, as she pulls her collar upagainst the chill for the walk home, as she sobs into a handkerchief, and soonshe is around the bend, out of sight, out of his life. He imagines he can stillhear the click of her heels over the sound of the rain, the sound of his worldbeing lost, of his heart being ripped away from him.
“Allergies, again, Mr. Solas?”
Wynne’s kind voice broke him out of his memories, and henodded to the librarian working under him.
“It hardly seems to matter what time of year it is,” he liedeasily. He sniffed as he pulled out his handkerchief, and it is only half forshow. He dabbed at his running eyes by rote, and old familiar habit by now.
Everything he does is by rote, it seems. The last severalyears he has lived only out of habit. He goes through the paces, vaguelypursuing ambitions he could recall having when he was a younger man. When hehad heart. Now, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care where his life ledhim.
“Oh, is that the latest ‘In Another World’?” Wynne asked.
A proud smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, despitehimself. “Yes,” he answered, running a thumb over her name on the cover: JANEA. LAVELLAN
She’d done it, had finally pursued publication on her own.Soon after they’d parted, it seemed. She’d been prolific ever since, publishingtwo or more novels a year, and gaining a very large readership.
He couldn’t help but notice that she published under hermaiden name.
“Did you read the acknowledgments at the end?” Wynne asked.
His brows knit together. “No, I’ve only just finished thefinal chapter.” It was what set off his remembrance. “Why?”
Not that he needed reason to read the notes that Jane leftat the end of her novels—her About the Author section was sacrosanct, holdingshared glimpses of her life, stories of her twins entering high school or her family’sstruggles with their new dog. Teasing hints of what it would be like to stillknow her.
“I haven’t read it yet, I’m still several book behind in theseries” Wynne was explaining, “but I hear it’s quite scandalous in this one.”
Distracted, Solas made some automatic response, a nod, maybea smile. He disappeared into the back room of the library, his office, to readin private.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As many of you know, Ilike to express my gratitude for those who help me turn my silly ideas intopaper and ink. From my editor at Tethras Publishers, to the research librarianswho spend hours explaining why I’m wrong, to my readers who make it allworthwhile: Thank you. Your dedication makes this happen.
But there is onereader in particular whom I’ve neglected. At least, I dearly hope he is one ofmy readers.
Because, you see,every book I finished has been for him. He is my Muse; every love story I’ve writtenhas been with the hope that someday he might read the words, and he would knowhow I wished our story had ended.
The memory of himfuels me, as though adding logs to an endless bonfire. I write, hoping eachsentence will help to douse the flames, that I might get some rest andreprieve. I am tired, yet I write, breathing the emotions his memory still fansinto me into my characters in turn.
I think that,somewhere out there, he must wish for my happiness. His memory haunts me, tellsme to accept the bed that I have made, to move on.
To his ghost, I say:Stop asking me to put out the inferno that you lit inside me. This is no bed inwhich I lay, but a pyre, and it will surely consume me.
That ours was not ahappy end was my doing. I alone made the choice to break both our hearts.
But oh, my Muse, I waswrong. I allowed my head to make a choice that belonged to my heart.
I know not whetherthis plea will ever reach you, or only ashes. Are you out there? Have youforgiven me?
Most likely I willhear nothing in response to this call. Perhaps you will reply with a kindletter, and a photograph of your happy family. Would I be strong enough to behappy for you, I wonder?
I’ve looked for youand found only cinders, and I cannot bear it a moment more, because if there iseven the smallest flicker of a chance that I would not have to wait for anotherworld to see you again… I would tell younow what I should have told you so many years before:
Youare my choice.
~~~~~
Solas was beside himself, frantic, terrified of the painfulhope the burned in his chest until he choked. It couldn’t be real, not afterall this time. Is it possible she meant another, one who came after him?
His fears tormented him as he called the switchboard operator,the publisher, and every second on hold was a torture.
Finally his call connected, and he explained inelegantly thathe was calling about the note in Lavellan’s latest novel, that he needed tocontact her. The man, Varric, asked for his name to make sure it was actuallyhim and not a hoax. Solas gave it feely, but he was scared of the man’sresponse. What if that somehow wasn’t the name they were looking for?
“You’re Solas? No shit?” Solas winced as the man laughedloudly into the receiver. “You’ve made me a wealthy man, Solas! I have a lot ofbets to call in; I knew it was a long shot, but I just couldn’t bet against ourgirl Jane.
“Now, some day you’ll have to tell me how you got anadvanced copy of that book—it’s not set to hit the shelves for a few days yet—butfirst answer me this: What are you intentions with Jane?”
“I… Excuse me?”
Varric’s voice became serious, almost threatening. “Look,the woman has been through a lot. I told her that I’d help you contact her nomatter what, but—well, that was a lie. You see, I consider the woman to be afriend of mine, and she doesn’t need any more hardship. So if you’re alreadymarried, or planning to hurt her, or looking for a woman to mooch off of—”
“No! I assure you, I…”
“You what?”
What could he say? This was unexpected, sudden, he had noway of knowing what Jane truly wanted from him.
“I chose her long ago. I would give her only what she wouldhave of me.”
Varric chuckled. “Ican work with that. Are you ready? Grab a pen. I can’t give you her address–security reasons you understand–but I can tell you what her phone number is.”He told Solas the information to reach Jane’s phone, but then added, “Though,you won’t be able to reach her this time of day.”
“Oh, alright. Do you know what time—”
“Yep, this time of day she’s busy working. She has a dayjob, after all.”
“Right, I—”
“She’s a librarian. In fact, I think you know the place, don’tyou? I believe you used to work there. Together. At the library. And, since youcan’t call…”
A breath escaped Solas, a small, broken laugh. “Yes, I thinkI understand you, Mr. Tethras. It’s a long drive… Will you tell her?”
“Now, where’s the fun in that? It’s a much better story thisway. Good luck, Chuckles.”
“I thank you, Mr. Tethras.”
~~~~~
Solas had been right—it was a long drive. Plenty long enoughto think and re-think, to worry, to wonder. This was foolish, he should havecalled. This all seemed so surreal; he’d gone mad, surely, this couldn’t betrue. Oh, but to see her again was worth the risk…
It had been early morning when he left his own library in arush, but he managed to get to hers before closing, every mile closer to hertown, to familiar sights, weighing heavy and anxious in his gut. The parkinglot was empty. He got out of his car, and only then thought to worry about howhe must look.
Hopefully not haggard, after spending the day speeding downthe highway. Older than when she’d seen him last, of course. His suit was in some disrepair; he’d let many things go unheeded in his time alone.
None of that mattered. He entered Skyhold Library. Herlibrary, once his, once where they worked together.
His eyes were drawn to her shape immediately. She wastowards the back, picking up a stack of books.
She looked up, saw him standing, but he couldn’t tell if sheknew him. He slowly removed his hat, out of habit.
She set the books back down.
“Solas?” Her voice was timid, but the library was empty,silent, and he heard her perfectly. His feet suddenly remembered their purpose,rushing forward with large steps as she said, “Oh damn that Varric, he couldhave warned me. I…”
Her voice choked up as tears formed in her eyes, herbeautiful eyes, and she took a few tentative steps towards him, but he wasalready to her. He was uncertain where to stop, but she reached for him, restingher hand along his face as if to check that he was really there.
He tried to say her name, but no noise came from him. Hecovered her hand with his, gripping her tight, and she felt real, so real.Their faces only a tense breath apart, he ran his thumb over her knuckles, andcouldn’t help but notice that she wore no ring. They stared at each other, eachquestioning silently, as his other hand skimmed her wet cheek. He wondered, onlyvaguely, when he had dropped his hat.
To the Void with words.
His hand wrapped behind her neck as he kissed her, hisheart, his lost love. She melted into him instantly, wrapping her arm aroundhim as he tried not to devour her, but he couldn’t help but be intense, ragged,as she easily bent backwards over his arm.
When, breathless, he allowed them space to breath, tried toremember that he was a gentlemen, her hands still pulled him to her. “Oh, mymuse… You saw it, then. My letter. Do you forgive me? You would allow me tochange my mind?”
“Ma vhenan… My heart made its choice long ago. It has beenyou, always you, every day that we were together, every day that we’ve beenapart.” He smiled, shakily. “I have had no choice in the matter. It is not asubject for debate.”
She laughed, and he wipes away the tears that spilled fromher eyes. “I’m yours, Solas. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it much, much sooner.”
“That would have been preferable, I admit.”
She laughed, pushing against him playfully. He made up forthe jest by kissing her again, softly this time, treasuring the feel of her.
When her eyes flickered open again, she said, “We have a lotof catching up to do.”
