#papa!solas

[destinyapostasy]

@jessicapendragon has been giving me the solavellan family feels; she is evil and must be stopped

[visja]

The veil came down with a crack, a loud rolling thunder. He smiled to himself, a thousand years suddenly lifting from his shoulders as the tingling of magic settled on his skin. He turned back, ready to embrace what he thought he once lost; she had been standing in the same meadow, watching him as he dismantled the enormous spell, praying for him to make it. And he did. He made it out whole and alive; he looked to the sky and laughed, a bubbling giggle setting the tone for his future. Now they could live an eternity together,  although he still considered it too short.

What he did not expect was that the crack and the rolling thunder had sent a piece of debree right through her shoulder, but it was wrong; it faced tilted down and had pierced her heart.

They were supposed to be immortals, the wolf and his halla, but bloodloss and one non-beating heart was something only magic could cure. Magic he couldn’t muster no matter how hard he tried, only small sparks of veilfire caressed his now dying love. No, he had whispered. It was not suppose to happen this way. She caressed his cheek and said that her love for him would still be immortal and with her dying breath she mustered a “ma serrannas.”. He had howled loud enough to wilt all the flowers in the meadow, and split the sky in two with the broken shouts of his regret. They say the wolf was never seen again.

“But he did manage to save her?”

“No, da'len, he did not. But he saved part of her, and he was thankful for that.”

“It is a sad story, papae. I don’t like it.”

“Neither did he. But he made the best of it.”

[katalyna-rose]

PROMPT: Lavellan walking into one of Solas's dreams and he's holding their baby. Make me sob uncontrollably

For @dadrunkwriting

A Trickster not a Traitor

Shealways had the same dream. Maybe it wasn’t all exactly the same in the details,but the theme was still consistent. In her dreams, she was fighting, weaponsflashing. It wasn’t always a battle of life and death; sometimes her weapon wasa pen or a research notebook or the promises of an ally. But she was alwaysfighting for the same thing; Fen’Harel.

Hewasn’t what her people thought. He wasn’t what the old stories said. He was aTrickster, but not a Traitor. He was cunning but not conniving. He was compassionatebut not malicious. And she loved him. All the superstitions of her people, allthe lies of omission he’d told, all the history twisted to falsehood could notchange that one simple fact. She loved him.

Butshe wasn’t fighting because she loved him. She was fighting because it was the rightthing to do.

Hisworld was taken from him. Her world replaced it. Yet both were valid, bothdeserved a chance to thrive. There were ancient elves in hidden corners of theworld, secret places only accessible by eluvian, who slept and waited for aworld in which they could thrive. They deserved that chance just as much as thepeople around her.

Yetmore than that, she had to keep the Dread Wolf from destroying the people sheloved to save the people he’d lost.

Herevery waking moment was filled with this battle and in her dreams she saw itssuccess. Every night the Fade reminded her of the fruits of her labor, thehappiness she could know in victory. In her dreams, he came back to her.

“Vhenan,”she heard him whisper a thousand times in a thousand ways. Pleadingly,thankfully, gratefully, brokenly, lovingly, desperately, agonized, broken down,lifted up, a prayer, a question, a desire, all of it she had heard from him.Though she knew it wasn’t really him; it was only the Fade, showing her whatshe needed to see so that she could keep fighting when she woke.

Andalways, at the periphery of her consciousness, was her love. Solas, in hiselven form, desperately far away and agonized. Fen’Harel, prowling as a wolf,watchful, protective. Demons never tempted or tormented when he was near,though surely her needs and desires called to them. She let him see her dreams,hid nothing from him; maybe, if she dreamed just the right scenario for theirvictory, he would see that she was right and come home to her. But he merelystalked the edges and would not come closer no matter how she asked and begged anddreamed.

Shealways had the same dream.

Exceptfor the one night that it was different.

Shelay propped up against a veritable mountain of pillows, out of breath and weak,magic numbing her body from the bottom of her ribcage down. And she was crying,but not with pain and not with fear. It was joy that had tears cascading, hotand fast, down her face. In her grasp was the reason for her weakness and magicthat kept her from feeling her body in the aftermath of agony.

A boy,hale and strong, blinked beautiful blue eyes up at her, unfocused and new. Andshe cried with joy to see this vibrant new life, cradled in her single arm,completely perfect. She saw little pieces of herself in that tiny face, even asnew as it was. And she saw little pieces of him.

“Vhenan,”he whispered, voice broken with both agony and elation. She looked up andshared a grin with the man who had helped her to create this beautiful childthat she held. He was crying even harder than her, eyes red and puffy, tears aconstant stream down his face running unheeded. “Please,” he begged, holdingout his arms.

“Ofcourse, vhenan,” she breathed, shifting her hold to allow for an easiertransfer. He took their son so gently, supporting him perfectly. He ran hisfingers all across that tiny face, exploring his features with wonder. He madea little sound, just a quick and curious cry, and Solas started laughing withhelpless joy as their child shoved his fingers in his mouth.

Andthe new mother laughed with him, wiping her face on the back of her hand. Solaslooked at her, still shaking with laughter, and leaned over to kiss her gently.She sighed into his mouth with the rightness of it.

“Welldone, vhenan,” he breathed across her lips, congratulating her on enduring longenough to create such a wonderful being.

Butthen she realized what was wrong; she’d never given much thought to havingchildren before. She couldn’t remember the planning, the decision. She couldn’tremember the endless attempts or the joy of conception. She couldn’t rememberhaving all her clothes adjusted as her belly grew.

Sheonly remembered the battle.

Andthen she saw it, there at the edges of her vision, the places where realitydidn’t quite connect, where the seams in the world lay. It wasn’t real.

Shewas in the Fade.

Shewas dreaming.

Butthis wasn’t her dream.

Shelooked at Solas with new eyes, grinning at him with new wonder. He was so absorbedby their conjured son that he didn’t notice her sudden realization, so she letthem linger in his dream.

He wantedchildren. More than that, he wanted children with her. He wanted to create a life that was their own and have afamily. She grinned and looked down at her hand, then barely swallowed a gaspwhen she saw the ring, a plain metal band, wrapped around her third finger. Shelooked up at him, at the hands than held the son he craved so much, and saw aring that matched on his left hand.

Hewanted to marry her. He wanted a family with her. He wanted a life with her.She cried anew.

Allher dreaming must have gotten through to him in some small way, she thought.Every night she dreamed of her victory, their worlds thriving together and thetwo of them in each other’s arms at the end of it all. She dreamed of themmeeting again after all this time and what she might say to him. She dreamed ofthem joining forces to fight for a single cause that would allow everyone tothrive. She dreamed of their success, what a perfect world might look like. Shedreamed of their celebrations in private, late into the night, until the dawncrept up on them. And then they celebrated some more.

Butshe had never dared to allow herself to dream beyond that, to what life couldbe like with him back with her. She couldn’t let herself hope like that and behurt all over again.

Solasdid not seem to share her reluctance.

Shewondered what had brought her there to his dream, if he’d drawn her in onpurpose or if he was so accustomed to sharing her dreams that she wasunconsciously allowed within. She wondered if he knew it was really her. She wonderedif he knew he was dreaming or if he’d been swept along in the current like her.

Theirson made a demanding little noise and Solas carefully returned the child to herarm, helping her to adjust her clothing so that their son could begin tosuckle. He kept his hand in her hair, combing out the sweat-soaked and tangledlocks with his fingers, and it was so simple, so domestic, that she feltherself crying all over again. His lips met her forehead and she leaned intohim.

“Arlath ma, Solas,” she whispered, and felt him hold her tighter. She sighed,happier than she’d been since before he left her, even knowing it was only adream. But it was what he wanted and that mattered.

“Arlath ma, vhenan,” he whispered back, his lips finding hers.

Whenhe pulled back from their grateful and wondrous kiss, she smiled and threwcaution to the wind.

“TheRebel Wolf wants a family,” she mused with a smile. “Who would have guessed?”He tensed, eyes narrowing on her. She kissed his cheek, all that she couldreach. “You can still have this, Solas. Come home to me and this can all beyours. I love you and I want you and I want this, too. Come home. We’ll find away to make sure everyone lives, both our peoples thrive. And Solas,” shecontinued intently, laying the conjured child in her lap carefully and grippinghis left hand hard, drawing attention to the matching rings he had given them, “youonly have to ask.”

A sobbroke free from his chest and he wrapped her in his arms, the conjured childevaporating and the effects of childbirth dissipating from her body. Sheclutched at him as he sobbed into her shoulder, holding him as tightly as heheld her. His hands roamed her body, remembering it, what she felt like underhis palms. She drew herself up onto her knees to embrace him fully, pressingher whole body against his. With gentle fingers, she felt the muscles in hisback, as strong as she remembered, the smooth expanse of his bare scalp, thetender points of his ears. He shuddered in her arms, burying himself deeperinto her embrace.

Finally,he pulled back and met her gaze, love and agony and desperation on his face,his beautiful face that she loved with all her heart. “Var lath vir suledin,”he vowed, with the same desperation with which she had once vowed it to him.

[nerdanel01]

How about Hypenemious: full of wind? Something you wouldn't expect to be.

Thank you for the prompt! I am not sure if this qualifies as “something you wouldn’t expect to be [full of wind]” but in an abstract way I did not expect to write papa solas two weeks in a row so… there’s that? oops. for @dadrunkwriting​. also for katalyna-rose (who I can’t tag for some reason?) since she enabled this madness.

Eager to RisePapa!Solas, post-post trespasser

“Papae! Papae!”

Wrenched abruptly out of the Fade by the voice of his youngest—the sound never failed to rouse him. But when his eyes cracked open the world was still dark. He could make out his son’s shape by the void his small head and shoulders made against the canopy of brilliant stars.

“What is it, Eolas?”

“It is happening, Papae!”

That was a matter better left to debate, and not with his four year old son. Solas blinked away the sleep from his eyes, looked up at the stars. By their position in the sky he could tell it was still another hour before dawn would crack the sky.

Eolas was early.

“Are you sure, da’vun?” he asked, trying to keep the weariness out of his voice. “It is still very dark.”

By the twisting shape of his sons’ silhouette, he could tell the boy was turning in place nervously.

“I thought we could watch from the inortadurgen.”

Out of the corner of his eye, in the dark, he could see his wife beside him, looking at him, both amused and expectant; they both already knew he would be getting out of bed.

“San, da’vun,” Solas said, and pushed himself into a sitting position. “Are you ready to leave? Do you have your shoes?”

Eolas nodded seriously. “And Fen’telban, to protect us in the dark.” (Fen’telban was the stuffed wolf Eolas’ mother had sewn him out of scrap wool six months before, in the same fashion that her Dalish mother had sewn a similar toy for her; she had, at the time, bemoaned her woefully inadequate sewing skill. But it had made no difference to their son, who carried the toy with him wherever he went.)

“San,” Solas repeated, and stood, feeling with his feet in the dark for his own shoes (not always worn, but necessary protection for walking such a distance through the woods in the dead of night.)

“Darir.” Let’s go.

It had not been the first time, nor would it be the last, that they had been accosted on the road. For the most part, the changes in their appearance protected them from being recognized: in the decades since the Veil had fallen, both he and his vhenan had grown their hair long for that specific purpose. With the strife ended, they had wished to live a life of peace, and (relative) anonymity. And it usually worked.

Except for when it didn’t. And on this particular occasion, they had been in the company of their sons.

“The gall of this harellan, to walk in peace across the earth he was so quick to scorch! If he had his way, we would have no earth, no sky, no rising sun!”

Eolas had tears in his eyes by the time his mother guided him away from the heckler. (He had far worse to say to Solas, and more, but fortunately, his youngest son had been out of earshot for the most of it; his eldest, Nehnis, had stood by his side—arms crossed, scowling, doing his best at the age of nine to look intimidating in front of this man who dared threaten his father—utterly unaffected by the man’s words.)

But the damage had been done. For Eolas was still of a tender age. And despite their best attempts to explain to him what had happened (Why did that man call Papae a harellan? Because he was a rebel, my dear son, and unafraid to stand for what he thought was right at the time. Why did he hate Papae so much? Because some people, my son, do not take too kindly to change.) the damage had already been done. Eolas had been left with the fear that the stars could be plucked from their orbit; that one day, the sun might fail. And (somehow, inexplicably, sweetly) he also believed that his Papae had the power to set it right: to command the very sun to rise.

In the weeks that followed he had woken Solas just before dawn with surprising regularity, and they had watched the sun rise together before crawling back into bed for a few more hours of precious sleep, Eolas curled between his parents. It was difficult to tell how much his fear had lessened. Secretly, Solas suspected that his son continued to wake him at that early hour simply for the pleasure of having his attention and his company, undivided, for once, between him and his brother.

And he would not begrudge Eolas that. Taxing though it could be at times to rise so early, he too enjoyed the precious time with his secondborn.

By the time they reached the Abyssal Rift (what Eolas had called the inortadurgen, the deep vale, for he knew not, and would never know, the name it had when it had spat forth hordes of Darkspawn) the pink light of dawn was just touching the eastern sky.

It was windy of the shelf that led to the canyon’s edge; it blew through Eolas’ loose shirt. Like the sails of an aravel, his mother might have said. Had said, so many times, that the phrase was conjured up, now, even without her around to say it; even in her absence. The boy’s sleeping linens the same sea-blue as the sails of the aravels of her Clan, dyed in the same pigments. As if the wind might sweep him up and carry him off, as if that sweet little child could fly….

Though he was still several many from the edge, Solas rushed up behind him and scooped Eolas into his arms. “Not so fast, da’vun,” he chided, gently. Then in one, smooth movement, Solas crossed his legs and sat, crosslegged, his son cradled in the protective nest of his limbs.

Ahh, how he wished he could protect them better, he thought, as the sky was lightening and snuffing out the stars. He could not blame the wanderer for what he had shouted; Solas had accepted his sins long ago, and did not begrudge people what resentment and anger they still held for him, even all these years later. He regretted, however, that it had begun to affect his sons. He wished they could be spared the pain of their father’s mistakes.

(How would he ever tell them? How could he? For now, the story they would stick to while their children were young, while they could get away with it: a simple and fairytale version of events. Papae had wanted to change the world. Mamae had wanted to save it as it was. They had met somewhere in the middle.)

But as he held his secondborn in his arms, he felt no tense muscles or knots, the signs of pain and anxiety manifesting in the body. Eolas was content as his arms as the pink orb of the sun broke the line of the horizon and flooded the world with light. Father and son watched in serene silence as what once had been the Abyssal Reach was touched with the first orange rays of dawn, illuminating each of its crags and ridges, now here and there dotted with scraggly and hardy vegetation—signs of life returning to this Blighted land. And the light, it moved so quickly, dancing over rock faces, ever advancing—

“It’s so fast,” Eolas has said, his voice sleepy and quiet, watching the light cut shadows across the face of the canyon.

Solas smiled, pulled his son tighter against his chest, dipped his head down to press a soft kiss against his temple.

“It was waiting for us, da’vun—and now it is eager to rise.”

translations courtesy of Project Elvhen:inortadurgen | deep vale, valley, place between mountains.san | “okay”da’vun | little sundarir | let’s go

[ellstersmash]

I’ve never been really into the Papa!Solas thing, but I suddenly had a deep and unceasing need for open-mouth nose kisses.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[salexectrian-heir]

On the Nature of Daylight

Solavellan Modern AU emotional/hurt comfort. Solas and Anise went through a rough divorce two years ago, and have joint custody of their son. Solas just spent the last two weeks with Malassan and is dropping him off with his mother. [AO3 Link]

For maximum emotional impact please listen to this song while reading

*disclaimer* it’s heartbreaking.

“I hate Mamae’s boyfriend.”

“Why? If he treats you well, and she is happy...”

“But she isn’t happy! I know she doesn’t really like him either.”

Solas hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in the driver’s seat as he looked into his rearview mirror to meet Malassan’s gaze, his son’s angry, steel blue eyes meeting his own tired ones. “That is not true.”

“Yes, it is,” he whined, “You made her happy, you made us happy.”

Solas sighed, the weight of his child’s accusation rattling in his chest. He slowed the car as he turned onto Tarasyl'an street.

“Da’len…sometimes…,” Solas swallowed thickly as he approached their—her—driveway, the gravel crunching beneath his sleek black car’s tires as he pulled in, “people change.”

He turned off the ignition and his car went silent, as did his son. Forcing himself to loosen his grip on the steering wheel, he unfastened his seatbelt and quickly exited his car. The sky matched his anxious mood, the swirling dark gray clouds were accumulating above him, looming ominously. He had to make this drop off quick if he hoped to reach the airport before the snow began to fall.

Solas opened the car door where his son sat in his booster seat. Malassan refused to look at him, glaring at his boots instead.

“Malassan, I— “

“You’re going away again. I’m not gonna see you…for... for- “Malassan’s voice wavered as he raised his head, tears pooling in his eyes that matched the color of the sky. Solas reached for his son, unbuckling him from his seat and lifting him into his arms and out of the car.

Malassan buried his face in Solas’ shoulder.

“Don’t leave me, I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” his son’s cries came out muffled against his shirt.

If Solas still had a heart, it would have shattered.

“You will see me again,” Solas whispered against his son’s soft russet hair, rubbing his back in small, concentric circles.

“You promise to come back?”

“Da’vhenan, I— “

The sound of the front door opening interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

“Mamae,” Malassan perked up, roughly wiping the tearful evidence of his despair left on his cheeks.

Solas’ chest tightened. It was never easy, seeing her. Always polite, reserved, distant…emotionless. He already knew the expression that would be etched on her face, as he traced each feature from memory.

Anise.

He began to lower his son to the ground, but Malassan squealed and tightened his grip around Solas’ neck, securing his legs around Solas’ waist.

“Da’len, let go. I must get your suitcase.”

“Here I’ll get it.”

Anise rushed past him, her kitten heels clacking lightly on the sidewalk. He took her in out of the corner of his eye as she opened the trunk of his car. She hadn’t changed much. Her satin blouse was tucked into her empire skirt that hugged her slender frame. Reddish brown tendrils of her hair were swept back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, fly away strands fallen across her cheeks. Anise lifted the suitcase with ease, shutting the trunk before finally making eye contact with him, and his heart constricted.

He thought after two years his apprehension would fade, that the insistent arrhythmia inside his chest would relax and yet, the tension between them was thick—almost suffocating.

He carried Malassan to the door, pausing to let Anise maneuver around him to place the suitcase in the foyer. She turned back and met his eyes once more.

“Come now, Malas, let go of your father,” she said, extending her arms out to take him, “dinner is almost ready.”

Malassan reluctantly released his grip, sliding dejectedly out of Solas’ arms and into Anise’s. The brush of her skin against Solas’ hands as they exchanged their son sent a shock through Solas. He immediately stepped back, creating space between the three of them.

Solas brought his knuckles to his lips and cleared his throat.

“I must be going, have a good evening,” he said, inclining his head a fraction of inch towards Anise.

He began to turn away, but stopped when he heard Malassan sigh. Instead, he took a step forward and brushed his lips lightly on his son’s forehead and whispered, “Be good for your Mother.”

Solas glanced down as he pulled away, and he shouldn’t have. The look Malassan gave him was heartbreaking. Nevertheless, he had a plane to catch and if he did not get on the highway soon… well, he did not want to be stranded on the road in the impending storm. A few lazy flakes had already begun to waft down from the gray sky.

“Can Papae stay for dinner? Please,” Malassan whined from behind him.

Spending two weeks with his son had bruised his emotional reserves. He hated how resigned his son sounded. The bitter winter air nipped at his nose and ears, sending a shiver down his spine as Anise answered.

“Da’len—,”

“It’s almost First Day! We can’t leave him alone on the holiday!”

“… I believe that decision is up to him, if he has the time to stay.”

Her words stopped him in his tracks a foot away from his car.

He turned slowly, cautiously. It felt like a trap. He took in Anise’s stare and saw something in her eyes, a spark. Not the cold and piercing one he was used to over the past two years.

Excuses bubbled up to his lips, but his tongue ceased to work as he felt himself caught by her eyes. The kind eyes he had fallen for over six years ago. His throat constricted as he tried to force a polite refusal out. As he stood there in silence, trying to find the right words to say, he witnessed that spark begin to fade, to die out and be replaced with the cold, lifeless one.

“My flight…” he finally managed, looking away.

“Oh of course. You don’t want to be late for that.”

Her entire demeanor switched from somewhat relaxed to reservedly uptight, almost distant. Malassan picked up on the shift instantly and his lip began to quiver, despite his best attempts to not show it.

“…is not for five hours. I can spare an hour more for dinner before I must drive to the airport, weather—and you—permitting.”

He lifted his eyes back to her and was met with shocked surprise etched across Anise’s face.

“Oh…”

Malassan hiccupped a sob, turning it into a laugh, and wriggled out of Anise’s grasp to stand. He ran to the door and threw it open

“Come, come in Papae!!!” He danced in the doorway, hand gripping the knob causing the door to rattle with his movements. “I have so much to show you!”

“Malas—slow down! You’ll trip up the—,” Anise darted inside, followed quietly by Solas who watched as she gave up her command while Malassan raced up the stairs on all fours ahead of them. A faint smile toyed on Solas lips as his son disappeared past the second floor landing.

Anise sighed. “I’ll take your coat.”

His focus was drawn back to his ex-wife, standing awkwardly in their—her foyer. He scanned the lofty entryway with baited breath. In two years, new decorations adorned the walls, a narrow runner was laid over the dark ironbark floor, a Dalish design embroidered on the carpet. She was extending her hand out formally, a polite and distant gesture.

“Of course, thank you,” he said hurriedly, shrugging out of his thick leather coat and carefully depositing it in her awaiting hands. Her fingers clutched the fabric, and Solas noted her bare knuckles. Of course she would have gotten rid of her rings. He glanced down to his own bare hands, and felt the pendant beneath his shirt burning a hole on through his chest. Not everyone holds on to keepsakes of dark memories like he did. He couldn’t expect her to do same. Not after—No. He would not dwell on that anymore.

He looked past her as she went to hang it, spotting his antique piano still resting in the corner by the window of the living room, with sheet music scattered across its glossy surface. The leather couches arranged around the fire place with the coffee table juxtaposed perfectly between the two. Flowers sat in an intricately painted vase, the same one he had bought her on the birthday five years ago.

The room looked just like he remembered it.  Just like always.

He would not let his heart ache. He would not. He wandered into the room, reaching for the music. He knew what song it would be before he even got a chance to read the title.

“Papae! Where are you?? Come up, come up, come up!”

Solas flinched, retracting his hand away from old memories he knew should be left alone.

“Malassan, you can show your father your room after dinner,” Anise called out, bustling around in the next room.

He moved automatically through the living room. The all too familiar smell of rose wood washed over Solas as he entered the spacious kitchen, spotting the flickering candles on the table that sent him back years, to happier times. It was set for two.

He felt out of place. This was not his home anymore, and yet it called to him.

Solas tried to help as Anise fetched an extra plate and silverware, vaguely remembering where the glasses were kept. They set his spot together, awkwardly pausing around each other so they would not bump, not make contact. The thundering footfalls of a child jumping down the stairs broke the tense moment.

Malassan slid right into his spot, doing his best to contain his excitement, though he could not refrain from bouncing in the chair. Solas smiled at his son, and lightly pinched his nose between his two knuckles.

“Got your nose,” he teased.

Malassan giggled and grabbed his face, full grin peeking out behind his fingers.

“Gah, I need it to smell Mamae’s dinner,” Malassan said, muffled behind his left hand, reaching up towards Solas with his right.

The game went on, with Malassan eventually hopping out of his seat to chase Solas around the table to retrieve his “nose”. Only Anise’s curt cough made them stop. Solas immediately went to help bring the food to the table and serve. It was a traditional elven dish, a pasta in homemade pesto with seasoned chicken. An old favorite of his as well. He watched Anise and Malassan lovingly interact contentedly, hiding his cautious smile behind his fork, joining in the small talk with a polite attention. On the outside, it seemed like they were a family again. The teasing, small bits of laughter, Malassan’s undying humor… that was until Malassan chuckled, a light snort escaping as his fork clattered against his empty plate.

Solas and Anise made eye contact. Malassan’s mannerisms were so much like his, despite his absence in his life. It brought him joy to see parts of himself, the best pieces, alive in his son. But gazing into Anise’s eyes he realized that everything that brought him joy about Malassan must have been agonizing for her.

A sudden exclamation from Malassan as their son bolted from the table broke their staring contest.

“Look at the snow! Look, look, look at it,” he chanted, managing to jump up on the couch by the far wall next to a grand window to bounce on the cushions while pointing at the heavily falling white sheets through the glass.

Solas’ stomach dropped.

“No planes will be flying in this, Papae!”

Malassan was right. Their backyard had become a tundra in less than hour.  His fingers slid into his pocket, pulling out his sleek phone. A notification was waiting for him from his airline. He didn’t have to open it to know that it would say the conditions were too unfavorable, and that his flight was postponed indefinitely.

“You might as well stay for dessert,” Anise said, pushing a loose piece of hair behind her ear, “if you are no longer in a rush. I have an Orlesian White— “

“I couldn’t possibly impose upon you any longer. I will need to get to the airport to rearrange my flight plans,” he said, standing to clear his place.

Anise hummed, clearing the table. “Suit yourself. No raspberry frilly cakes for you then.”

He snapped his head towards Anise, mouth slightly agape. She was studying him and trying her best to not let a smug grin spread across her face.

“Perhaps just one.”

And then her grin broke. It was the first smile she had given him in years.

The frilly cakes were even more delicious than he remembered. The last time he had eaten them had been years ago with Anise, on one of their scheduled date nights. The memory was bittersweet, but the icing was anything but. Malassan was beyond blissful, attempting to shove an entire petite cake in his mouth before Anise caught his hand. He paused, a confused expression cresting over his face as he turned to make a face at his mother. Anise’s lips turned up at the edges mischievously. And then she pushed the cake into Malassan’s face. Icing smeared across his nose, lips and cheek, eliciting an uncontrollable burst of laughter from a blissful Malassan than ended in a snort.

“Can Papae stay over and watch a movie, Please?!” Malassan begged, shifting the attention back to him.

“You just spent all week with me Da’len.”

“Please,” Malassan whined.

“I really must be going…”

“Solas,” Anise said pointedly, “look outside.”

Out of the living room window, the snow was cascading down in torrents, making it near impossible to even seen the deck. He didn’t even want to consider how much snow his car was caught beneath in the driveway.

She spoke up again, softly while inkling her head, “All the roads are going to be closed, no one is going out in this storm. I doubt any flights will be on time, tonight or tomorrow.”

She was right. A tug on his hand stirred his mind out of travel plans.

Malassan was holding on with both of his, trying to pull him out of his chair with an expression so elated, so hopeful. Solas had no choice but to follow Malassan’s lead, holding the tiny hand that guided him back into the living room. It took every ounce of self-restraint in him to not open his mouth and critique the animated film Malassan selected. But seeing his son sing and dance along to “Let It Go” immediately abolished any thoughts of distaste. After the song ended however, Malassan settled back on his lap and nestled in to watch the rest of the movie. Solas took a chance and looked over at Anise, sitting a respectful distance away from him. Her legs were curled beneath her as she held onto a pillow, a goofy smirk plastered on her face as she watched the characters sing and dance across the screen. He could tell in the way she raised her eyebrows that she felt similar reactions that he did to the film, but was also keeping silent out of love.

It did not take long for Malassan to doze off on Solas’ chest twenty minutes later. Guilt burned in Solas’ gut at the thought he would have to leave while he was asleep, without saying goodbye. Gently, he brushed away his son’s hair from his eyes, and just watched as he slept soundly gripping his tie.

“Here, I’ll take him,” Anise said, standing, “He’s stayed up way past his normal bedtime. I’m surprised he even lasted this long.”

“I can carry him,” Solas offered, standing up slowly as not to not shift Malassan too much.

For the first time in what felt like ages, he helped Anise get Malassan for bed. His son’s room had changed since he had last been in it. Gone was the crib and mobile of stars, replaced with a twin bed and stuffed wolf. On his walls were paintings, one’s Malassan had created—far beyond the skill of an average five-year-old. The artwork stole his breath away. Like father, like son.

Malassan groaned as Solas put him down. Speaking softly, he recounted one of his many bedtime stories to the grumpy half-asleep child as Anise changed him into his pajamas, and laid him back in his bed. Their hands brushed accidentally as they both reached to pull his comforter to tuck Malassan in. Solas’ heart skipped painfully, aching in all the vulnerable places like a bruise being pressed repeatedly. As he recoiled away from her, he noticed how her shoulders relaxed the moment he leaned away. He retreated to door, looking over his shoulder to watch Anise lean over and kiss their son. As Solas began to walk down the hall, she began to hum a lullaby—the haunting melody from the sheet music scattered in disarray a floor below.

He should not be here.

His feet moved down the stairs with the least amount of noise he could muster. The closet was a few feet out of reach before more rapid, but soft, footfalls followed after him.

“Solas, you seriously cannot be leaving.”

He paused, pulling his hand away from the closet door, “Anise, this is hard enough for all of us as it is. I do not want to do more damage.”

“More damage? More damage would be making us worrying all night about you driving in this weather. What if you got lost? Or worse, crashed? What would I tell Malassan if his father— “

In one swift movement, he turned and placed his index finger on her lips, cutting off her sentence before she could finish the thought. It was an instinctive response, an old habit of theirs he had so easily fallen back into. The soft touch on each other’s lips, a soothing gesture of reassurance. At his sudden contact, they both went still, eyes blown wide.

Solas recovered first, slightly appalled at his impulsive behavior. He attempted to pull away but Anise reacted only a half a second later, her hand catching his fingers before he could tear them away.

“We both know I cannot stay here.”

“Please,” she started, her fingers wrapping around his, “don’t go, please, just wait until morning. Spend First Day celebrating with your son. It’s… it’s the best gift you could give him.”

“And when I leave that afternoon, it will only hurt that much more,” he said, removing his hand from her clasp.

“Malassan is strong, he–”

“I’m not talking about our son.”

He gazed deeply into her eyes, watching each flicker of pain flare in their depths.

She took a hesitant step back, and then another, shaking her head and raising a hand defensively in front of her. “No, no. You stopped worrying about me years ago. No need to start now, Solas.” She turned sharply and headed into the kitchen. He followed.

“That is not— “

“Solas,” she spun on him, spitting his name as if it were a curse, “if you truly cared about how I was doing you would have asked me after I had misc—“ her voice faltered, eyes glazing as she looked over his face, “…asked me that years ago.”

Stunned silence resonated between them as her words hung in the air.

They had avoided this—he had avoided this discussion for three years. The reality of the situation was just too much to bear, and speaking of it only made it the pain much more real. So they never did. They let their repressed grief fester and ruin their relationship, turning on each other instead of finding comfort in one another. He had isolated himself from it, burying his pain in his work leaving Anise to find other ways to cope without him. It was his biggest mistake and greatest regret, not being there.

But now all those emotions he had locked away and vowed never to let himself succumb to were forcing themselves to the surface, slipping past his tightly controlled composure and out of his control. He could see it in Anise too, ripping her at the seams. It was inevitable, the walls were crumbling.

They needed closure. They needed to talk about the accident.

“I am asking now,” he said softly.

She scoffed and wiped away the tears beginning to leak from her eyes. “Oh, now. Only after you get trapped in a room with me.”

“I can’t change the past, despite how desperately I wish I could,” he met her hard glare with a steady one, “and I know this does not make up for that, but I am asking, and it’s not because of the weather. Spending these past few weeks with Malassan has opened my eyes, and I realized asking about you is something I should have done a long time ago.” His hands clenched at his sides with his confession. “It was entirely selfish of me to abandon you like that.”

She picked up her glass of wine from the island and brought it to her lips, draining it before saying, “It was.”

She snatched the bottle of wine and stalked into the living room, setting her glass down with a loud clink and refilled it as she sat. “You know, he asks constantly where you are. Why you aren’t here, why we don’t speak. Why he can’t live with you, and that he hates Anders. When he gets upset he says he doesn’t understand why he’s… stuck with me.”

Solas flinched. Malassan had mentioned this quite a few times over the past two weeks. Every time, Solas tried his best to refute it. Reaffirming that his mother was a wonderful woman, and that she loved him more than he could ever possibly know.

It usually ended with Malassan asking him if Mamae was such an amazing person, why wasn’t he with her anymore?

And at that he usually fell silent at a loss for words.

“He blames me for… it… too…”

His eyes widened, and he rushed to kneel in front of her, taking the wine glass out of her hands to clasp them within his.

“Anise, you know… you know that was not your fault,”

“Explain that to a five-year-old. He may be intellectually gifted, but emotionally, he is still a child. He has to be mad at someone for losing his family. It only makes sense it would be directed at me because I—I’m the one who lost…” Her voice cracked and she quickly ripped her hands out from his and covered her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut.

He reached for her, like he should have years ago. She hesitated at his touch first, but after a second she melted into his embrace, sliding off the couch into his arms. Her face nestled into his shoulder, and he pressed his lips against her head and murmured, “We. We lost the baby.”

“And Malassan lost you both.”

He held her tighter in an effort to hold everything together, but still, he felt himself beginning to break.

“I try to do my best,” she admitted tearfully, the flood gates from years of silence opening, “but it is all my fault. I feel like a complete failure. I can barely help him with his homework anymore…”

“Anise— “

“He sees me struggle to read, he corrects my spelling, he’s five!” she slumped forward, “The letters… they swirl around on the pages, and I, I— “

And then she began to sob, her chest heaving violently against him as she tried to contain her cries.

He knew how sensitive she was about her disability, and he had left her alone to teach a child how to read when she could barely read herself.

It was how they met. He had tutored her, helped her read to pass her elven class in college. They would stay up late in her dorm, cuddled beneath blankets with books reading aloud. A kiss for every sentence she was able to read correctly, a tease. He knew her dyslexia was something she would always have to live with, but anything he could do to help ease her anxiety he would have done in a heartbeat. Even staying up late on the night before exams to help her study.

“You are the furthest thing from a failure. You— “

“I can’t even read him bedtime stories without fucking up. The letters swirl, and I trip over the words,” she cried into his shoulder, her sobs muffled by his sweater, “He would be so much better off with you, if he knew you would be home more.”

“Ir abelas, vhenan. None of this falls on you. I should have been a better father, a better husband,” his voice was hoarse as he confessed the guilt that had been eating him alive, “I never meant to cause you this much sorrow, but I did. I could not handle the situation. Numbing myself in work and ignoring our pain was heartless of me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, “I should have never drove you away.”

“I never should have left.”

 She curled into his side, her slender frame shaking against his own. He let the grief wash over him, holding her tightly as they cried and mourned for a life they never got to meet, for their life they destroyed in pushing each other away. Time passed slowly, shedding each painful minute one by one. Solas lost track of how long they spent holding each other on the floor beside the fire, syncing their breathing as they relived the pain the way they should have all those years ago. When he felt Anise’s breath rattle he would press his lips to her forehead, offering a gentle kiss in response, and hold her closer until her trembling stopped.

Eventually the fire burned out, but neither noticed until the loud crack of a dying ember sounded through the still living room, making them both jump. Anise pulled herself out of his embrace slowly, reading his somber expression.

“It is late, we should both get some sleep,” she said, standing and extending her hand to help him up.

He realized once he took her hand, he did not want to let go. Their fingers lingered intertwined as she led him throughout the home that was once theirs, up the wooden stairs and past Malassan’s room. Solas began to veer towards the guest room but felt resistance from Anise. He looked over at her as a sheepish expression flit across her face.

“I’ve been staying in the guest room,” she confessed quietly, pulling him away towards the master bedroom and pushing it ajar, “I haven’t been able to sleep in here since… since you left. Some of your old clothes are still in the dresser, I’m sure you’ll be able to find something to sleep in.”

“Will you be alright, alone, tonight?” he asked as she removed her hand from his.

She shook her head with a small laugh, hugging herself. “I have to be.”

They shifted awkwardly in the hall, neither one sure what to do next and neither of them wanting to move away first. They waited in silence for a moment before Solas decided he should leave her to her privacy. He felt a tug on his elbow, making him pause. One hand slid up along his jawline, guiding his face down to her. She leaned in and left a soft kiss upon his cheek.

“Thank you, Solas. Good night.”

He let his eyes fall shut as he leaned against her forehead. “Good night, Anise.”

As he went through the motions of getting ready for bed on autopilot, he let his thoughts wander. Reflecting on the past two years and how everything could have been handled so differently, if he had just not been so fearful. But his fear ultimately cost him everything, his family, his pride, leaving him only with a false sense of duty to a job that left him feeling purposeless. Sliding beneath the covers of the bed he once shared with her, moonlight draping across the quilt through the curtained window, a saying rose to the surface of his aching mind.

There are times where we must sink to the bottom of our misery to understand the truth, just as we must descend to the bottom of a well to see the stars in broad daylight.

He threw his arm over his face. He was submerged by another powerful wave of grief and loathing at the realization that it took him this long to finally see. He made the biggest mistake of his life, and yet Anise felt responsible. It was not fair, and he never would have wished this upon anyone, even an adversary.

When he started crying, he could not be sure. He let himself drown in it in the solitude of a bedroom that was once his sacred space. He must have made some sort of noise in those moments of weakness, for a tender touch to his shoulder stirred him from his tears. Anise was leaning over him. He could tell by the dim moonlight that her face was not dry either. He met her half way, pulling her in as she reached for him.  She settled beneath their sheets, pressing herself against him and burying her face into the space on the pillow between his shoulder and cheek.

“I was wrong,” she whispered.

“I was too.”

Duty could wait.

There were more important things in his life to fix.

[wrenbee]

For DWC: Napping in sunshine :)

Thank you for the prompt @thevikingwoman :) Finally got to it. 100 words for naps and some papa!Solas. 

for @dadrunkwriting

Aura stepped out of the garden with a hand full of herbs and white flowers. She followed the breeze to the front yard, found the boys lying under an oak tree.

“Such a lovely mess you two have made.” she grinned.

“We have gotten into worse,” Solas said. 

Aura sat down and examined the mess of half-painted wooden nugs scattered across the ground, pink paint on tiny hands, brown curls shining in the sun. 

“At least he’s getting a nap,” he continued. He took a flower and tucked it behind her ear. 

She dug her toes into the grass.

[katalyna-rose]

Prompty?: Solas, after thousands of years, finally in a true relationship with Lavellan, has never encountered the danger words of a woman: Fine, Go Ahead, Seriously.

It didn’t turn out right, but this is what I ended up with….

Lyna was almost exactly nine months pregnant and it made her very cranky. She felt much heavier than she should, heartburn was her constant companion, and she spent most of her time glowering at a book she couldn’t concentrate on enough to read. Solas took most of it in stride, kissing her puckered brow and chuckling when she swatted at him. He thought it was adorable that she was cranky and irritable and sometimes she just wanted to hit him for it.

But at least he had kept his word and been beside her for every step of the pregnancy. He’d held her hair when she was bent over a bucket puking her guts out during the first few months, cooling her brow with a simple spell. He’d been right next to her when their baby kicked for the first time and had felt the second kick himself and cried with her. Through every beautiful, gross moment of bringing a child into the world, Solas had been beside her. After having been absent for her entire pregnancy with their firstborn, missing the birth and his first few weeks of life, Solas had vowed to her that he wouldn’t miss a moment of her second pregnancy.

Yet he wanted to leave her. Only for two days, he kept saying, as though that would make it better when she could be ready to give birth at virtually any moment. She could go into labor while they stood there and argued, but he was determined that he had to be the one to handle the situation.

“Send someone else,” Lyna demanded again, pacing in her agitation and rubbing her hands on her bloated belly as their child squirmed within her. Solas, seated on the edge of his desk and watching her, shook his head sadly.

“Vhenan, you know I cannot,” he told her again, sounding tired. “I must handle this personally.”

“Dirthamen would not dare to harm Alifalon,” Lyna declared, rounding on Solas. “He was steadfast in his vows of loyalty and supplication and he would not risk all that he has since gained by defying us now!”

“But if we were wrong about him, then I am the only one who can handle him!” Solas cried, beginning to lose his patience. Unfortunately for him, hers had already been lost.

“He has no magic now!” Lyna reminded him furiously. “Anyone with a sharp blade can keep him in line!”

“There are ways he could augment his physical abilities without the use of his own magic that would make him a match for any opponent except me, vhenan! I must be the one to go make certain his vows are not broken and deal with him if they are!” Solas cried, standing up and reaching for her. He grabbed her hands but she snatched them away and wrapped her arms around her middle. He seemed to crumple a bit as he looked at her giant belly. “I will be back before you know it,” he told her, calmer now. “I have no wish to miss anything, but I have to be the one to go. You know how to contact me and where I’ll be if anything happens.”

“You promised,” she reminded him forcefully, not in the least bit satisfied.

“I know,” he said. “But there is nothing to be done about it!”

She turned away from him, shoulders stiff and tears almost choking her. “Fine! Go ahead!” she cried, even though she meant the opposite. She’d tried arguing and she’d tried reason and she’d tried reminding him of his vow. It was the only way left to her, though she hated the manipulation of it.

He was silent for long moments. “Then I will,” he said softly, and she hugged herself tight. And it seemed that her final option backfired. They would be having words when he returned, and he had better hope that he came back in time for the birth or else she would probably do something stupid that she would regret later.

She felt his hands hover over her shoulders knew he wanted to take her in his arms before he left, but she couldn’t handle that. She was too angry for that. She twisted away from him and stalked to the other side of the room, keeping her face averted. She heard him sigh.

“I will be back soon,” he said softly. “I promise.”

And she broke.

“Oh, well, then I feel so much better,” she told him with biting sarcasm as tears began to fall. “Since you promised, then of course you’ll keep it. Like you keep every promise you make to me…”

“Vhenan…” Solas began, sounding hurt and more than a little sad, but she couldn’t let him make her feel sympathy.

“Just go!” she cried. She heard the door quietly open and shut, then dropped her face into her hands and sobbed. He was such an idiot…