Summary: A small story from my Solavellan writings taking place before the battle of the Arbor Wilds, 9:42 Dragon. The calm before the storm.
Pairing(s): Solas x femme elf Inquisitor Lavellan (My canon OC Orianna Edea Lavellan). Cullen x Unrequited Lavellan.
Warnings: Fluff, angst, some slightly poetic insinuations to smut.
As the Inquisition prepared its siege on Corypheus's forces in the wilds surrounding the ancient temple of Mythal, Inquisitor Orianna Lavellan and her companions had stayed in a local village near its outskirts.
As the sun went down, they prepared for thr battle the coming morning. A great feast had been prepared, but Orianna could not eat knowing that so many of her men would be lost.
She maintained a smile in their presence, not wishing to inspire upon them the doom she felt herself. She had made so many friends, human, dwarfen - even Qunari. Her world had grown so much bigger and now here was a battle to fight for it all.
She locked eyes with Cullen across the tavern, full of tenderness and fear. She could read upon his lips, the chant of light. He was praying for her safety.
On the second floor, Solas leant over the railing, watching her with an unreadable look on his face. Lost in thoughts, she was not sure he even knew she had noticed him.
"A night that might be our last" Dorian mused, having helped himself generously to the wine. "Who might you spend it with? I wonder."
Orianna chuckled, "Stop worrying about me and turn around instead" she gestured, "I see the way Ironbull has been looking at you, have''nt you?"
"-Nonsense." Dorian shook his head and swallowed the remaining wine all at once, "A fine 'Vint and a savage Qunari. Now that is something for the bards to sing about."
Cullen made his way across the tavern at last, and Orianna excused herself with a sigh.
"Inquisitor" he greeted her, and Orianna looked up to see that Solas had left his positioning. "Commander, anything to report?"
There was a pause, "I... yes. There is a matter i'd like to discuss with you, well... in private."
Orianna's eyes distractedly wandered the tavern for Solas's whereabouts, he was no longer anywhere to be seen.
"Sorry. Could you repeat that to me Commander?"
Cullen swallowed nervously, "With the battle ahead of us, I could not let it remain unsaid that I..."
Orianna felt a wave of sadness wash upon her, it was all weighing to much. She was frightened, truth to be told she did not know if she truly stood a chance to defeat Corypheus.
"I care for you Orianna. More than care, in fact." Cullen finally admitted, gazing down at her expetantly.
A single tear fell down her cheek, burning hot. "Cullen..", she whispered.
"My devotion to you, goes far beyond my commanding of your army. It is resolute love, it will stand no matter what."
Orianna's breath hitched as he came nearer, his lips inches of her.
She wanted to press herself forward, but backed away instead into a table.
"Forgive me, Inquisitor. I've.. transgressed." Cullen pulled himself back, but before she could answer, Solas had appeared by his side with an austare visage.
"Commander, if I could have a word with the Inquisitor." He requested politely, and Cullen puzzedly withdrew to leave them be. The bards song filled the tavern, Ironbull laughed at something brawingly.
Before she could say anything, Solas had taken her hand leading her up the stairs after him.
"We were... just talking." Orianna explained, "-And more if the Knight Commander were to have his way." Solas replied snarkily. His hand still gently around hers untill they found themselves in his chamber.
"You're actually jealous?" Orianna finaly braved herself to ask, and Solas turned to her smugly. "Of course I am jealous."
"-To stand in your presence before such a fateful battle. Emmasalin var suledin evanura."
"Ma melava haleni. We would not have made it this far otherwise."
Something glimmered in his eyes, "Vhenan. Vir Insalin."
"I hope so. I can't afford to loose, not now."
Solas smiled, "I believe in you. You are so radiant, you inspire us all."
His lips found hers, and fueled with passion sat her down on his bed.
She fell back, but he did not join her. His head lowered, locked beneath her in awe and in worship.
"-Solas" his name left her lips breathlessly, he could barely keep his hands, or his lips of her, but never let her return the favour.
Whenever she got too dangerously close to convince him otherwise - he would pull away, or otherwise distract her differently.
The sounds of drunken shanty' sung from the tavern downstairs drowned out her cries as she quivered and fell defeated in his bed. He lingered, looking up at her with twinkling clever eyes.
"Mythal enaste." Orianna whispered, "if you keep this up, then."
"-If we survive the coming battle, i'll show you the true extent of my devotion, Vhenan."
Her heart skipped a beat, "I want you Solas, why wait? Why not-"
His lips shut her up, "As much as I'd relish the idea.. we should get some rest. By dawn your army will march and you will need to guide them"
Orianna laid down upon his bed defiantly, "Fine. But i'm not leaving your chambers. I can't sleep without you."
Solas joined her, once again with an unreadable ennui upon his face as he gazed upon her before reaching for - and placing a kiss upon her anchored hand.
So you know those stories where people from our world end up in da:i, and like become bff's with the cast and do badass stuff, fall in love, and other fun goodies? How about this: Solas sorta adopts a small elven child he meets in Haven who everyone assumes is an orphan. Thing is, this "child" is from our world originally. And is much older mentally than 4-5 years old everyone thinks. Call it reincarnation or maybe a body snatching, but the truth is they don't remember much besides waking up in Haven post Conclave explosion. I aim for fluffy goodness of Solas taking this lost little one under his wing, and discovering his growing parental love for this small being. Despite his hesitancy. I'll reblog this latter with the completed prompt.
For the DADWC: “You are…captivating.” featuring the character of your choice!
Thank you for the @dadrunkwriting prompt! I went with Solas and Elia Lavellan for this one.
Inspired by this post originally by @dusterthedopop. I think @irlaimsaaralath requested a little fic scene based on this idea, so consider this prompt fill dedicated to you both! xoxo
Read on AO3 instead.
***************
Solas drifts along the edge of the ballroom toward the open balcony. He smoothly sets his empty glass on a nearby table, then nods graciously to a group of passing ladies.
To his surprise, their eyes widen in shock, and he hears their tittering whispers as he passes them by. “…manners from an elf! Almost like he’s a noble! How in the Maker’s name…”
Solas frowns, then belatedly realizes what has so inflamed their attention: he has accidentally discarded the subservient manner that he’d adopted for the night. His shoulders are broad and proud, and his chin is lifted high.
He considers resuming his deferential air, then cheerfully decides against it. There is little point now; the evening’s primary goal was met, after all. The Inquisitor has secured the Orlesian throne against Corypheus’s threat and gained herself a powerful ally.
Elia’s performance was a raging success by any measure, and Solas couldn’t be more proud.
As he nears the balcony doors, Celene’s so-called arcane advisor comes wafting out. She glances at him - a passing glance, quick and dismissive and haughty - then passes him by without a word.
A sharp bite of mistrust pierces through his cloud of contentment. Those pale yellow eyes of hers, familiar but far more arrogant than he is accustomed to…
Patience, Solas thinks; yes, patience will be key when dealing with Flemeth’s daughter.
He turns away from her, and all thoughts of Morrigan leave his mind as his eyes fall on the slim curve of Elia’s back. She leans against the railing with her head hung low, and he can see that she is tired; the night’s events are weighing on her slender shoulders, and as he approaches her in silence, he hears her gusty sigh.
He floats over to the balcony and rests his elbows on the railing, and Elia jumps in surprise.
He laughs lightly as she lifts a hand to her forehead. “Solas! Mythal’s mercy, I’m sorry. You startled me.” She leans against the railing again, her pose a mirror of his own as she sinks onto her elbows and smiles. “You look happy,” she remarks. “Did you have a good time?”
“A wonderful time, yes,” he replies. “The food was excellent, and the wine was nearly as good as any I have ever had.”
Her smile deepens, chasing away some of the worry in her face. “So I see. It looks like you’ve had quite a bit of that wine.”
He chuckles magnanimously. “I confess that you may be right. But I have not yet told you my favourite part of the ball.”
She tilts her head curiously. “What was it?”
“It was you,” he says simply.
Elia smiles. A brilliant flush of happiness lights her cheeks as she looks away. “You sweet talker,” she murmurs.
He places his hand on hers. “This is no idle talk, vhenan. I spent the evening watching you. I saw you sweep these nobles off their feet. The way you spoke, the way you fought, the way you moved across that floor…” He gestures vaguely to the dance floor, but his gaze is on her face.
Her face: her delicate face dappled with vallaslin, punctuated with those lovely aquamarine eyes that latch onto his own like sweet jewelled hooks sinking into his heart…
He raises his hand and gently lifts her chin. “You are… captivating,” he whispers. Truly, this is the perfect word for how Elia makes him feel. He is captured by her, brought to earth and bound by her, more bound than he ever expected to be in this sterile world.
He cradles her neck gently in his palm. She releases a long, slow breath, then closes her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers. “It’s been a very long night. Having to blackmail Celene and Gaspard and Briala like that…” She shakes her head, then turns back to lean on the railing once again. “I don’t like the Grand Game very much. But don’t tell Leliana I said so.”
She shoots him a wan little smile, and he leans on the balcony again. “Your secret is safe with me,” he murmurs.
She smiles more widely, and he shamelessly admires the curl of her lips. The lingering whispers of wine are swimming nicely in his veins, and the sound of strings and flutes is calling from the ballroom, and before he can stop to think, he is pushing away from the railing and extending a hand to her.
“Come,” he says. “Before the band stops playing. Dance with me.”
She grins, a broad and brilliant flash of humour across her face. “Just how much wine did you have?” she asks, but she takes his hand nonetheless.
He smirks as he pulls her close. “Not enough to fall over my own feet, one hopes.” His arm is around her waist, and her fingers are firm against his own, and then they are dancing, circling gracefully across the polished tiles, two bodies moving as one as he sweeps her across the floor.
Elia laughs at first, an ebullient burst like the bubbles in the champagne he so enjoyed this evening. Then her laughter softens to a smile, and her smile softens to a gentle curl of contentment that sits at the very corners of her lips.
The band is winding down, playing a ballad that is soft and sweet, and Elia presses her cheek to his chest. He is holding her close now, one arm around her waist and his other hand in her hair, and only a hint of the dance remains in their slow and subtle sway.
She releases a long and languorous sigh, and the sound is heavy with happiness. She lifts her cheek and smiles up at him. “Let’s go home,” she whispers.
Solas admires the calm contentment in her face. Her eyes are an invitation, and her lips are a refuge, and Solas hides within them, savouring the plumpness of her lower lip with a kiss. Her cheekbone, the corner of her eye, that tender spot on her temple where ivory skin melts into the softness of her midnight hair: he takes it all in with a tender touch of his lips, a brushing so soft and slow, as soft as the gentle breath that ghost from her lips to the edge of his ear.
In this moment of peace, with the stars above them and the music of the band behind, with the simple joy of Elia’s slender form encircled in his arms, it is easy to imagine that this world is all he knows. It is easy to imagine a world in which he is just a man, and Elia is just a woman, and Skyhold is not a site of ancient sacrifices and regrets, but simply the place that they will go to climb into their shared bed and rest their heads.
It is easy to imagine such peace. It is easy, and it is wonderful. It is a life that he is not entitled to have.
He pushes the thoughts away in a fit of booze-fuelled bravado. For a few moments more, he can let himself live without regrets.
For a few moments more, Solas can pretend.
He presses his lips to her forehead. “Yes,” he whispers. “Let us go home.”
Prompt: Lavellan serving Solas some special tea she made&brewed herself ?
Sorry this took a while anon but here, have some fluff ;)
Solas had known she was up to something. The woman was a lot of things but subtle was not one of them. At least not in this case. She had been watching him closer than normal. Specifically every time he ate, or drank, anything at all. It became so obvious, and consistent, that he wondered briefly she had decided to poison him. A notion dismissed when she caught him one night as he left his rotunda to pepper him with stolen kisses. Something he tried not to encourage but had quickly found his resolve falter on when her lips brushed soft and warm against him.
Then he thought perhaps she still fretted over his feelings after Wisdom’s passing. That it was some residual concern leftover from when he had gone off on his own for a while to mourn in solitude. Perhaps she feared he would stop eating from his despair, but the truth was, while he missed his dear friend, would always miss her, he had accepted. Even if he had wished to fall into despair, his life was not his own.
Which was what made the whole thing all the more foolish really. He should have been annoyed. Should have chafed at being watched so closely. Instead, he enjoyed it. The simple act of her being near, catching her eyes peeking at him over a book she wasn’t actually reading, it made him feel lighter. It made him hotter. Warmed him so that he could feel all the areas inside him start to thaw despite himself.
He was in love. Undeniably. Irrevocably. Head over heels like some young fool. He was too old for such things, had too much for both of them to lose, he should have better control over it. There was no more ability for him to deny that which filled him so completely.
It was part of the reason he felt her absence today acutely. Why, when she came in late that afternoon, his heart beat a quick rhythm in his throat and he had to work to keep his eyes on the papers in front of him.
Then he heard the soft clunk of a mug next to him and allowed himself to look at her for the first time. Eyes going from the mug to trace a path up slender wrists, lean muscled arms, and finally to the face he had come to know so well. A soft blush bloomed high on her cheeks and the tip of her ears. It made his heart skip.
“Vhenan?” An endearment that felt both dangerous and sweet on his lips.
“I made you something.” She pushed the mug closer to him with her fingers, smiling as she pulled back her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind one ear.
He couldn’t help the slight pinching of his brows as he looked from her eager expression to the mug, “You… made me tea?”
She shifted and then spoke in a rush, “Yes. I know you don’t like tea normally but I think it will help you clear your head. I mean I hope nothing like that ever happens again but if something were to happen or you just…” She swallowed, “I don’t know I just thought maybe you hadn’t found the right tea.”
Then it dawned on him, “That is why you were watching me so much?”
“I… you caught that huh?”
A soft smile, “Yes, vhenan.”
“I’m usually better at this kind of thing.”
“You have a habit of sneaking about and watching men while they eat?”
She laughed, “Just try the tea, Solas.”
Solas looked to the mug, steam swirling up from the top of the amber liquid. He detested tea, but she had made it for him. In that, at least, was one redeeming quality to the stuff.
He reached forward to take the mug. Then he looked away from her, preparing himself to hide his grimace at the taste of the first sip. He would not wish to hurt her feelings, make her think he did not appreciate the effort.
When he sipped it the taste was… unexpected. His brows furrowed, eyes going to look at her over the mug. He took another sip. A variety of flavors played along his tongue, lavender, rose, among others. Then something sweet chasing away the bitterness tea usually carried, honey and something else. Something unfamiliar to him.
It tasted like…
He paused, looked at her intently as he set the mug down and then closed the space between them. It did not matter to him then that anyone could look down to see them there. It was just him and her. His hand came up to stroke her throat, move down to her shoulder, and then he buried his face where his hand had been. The little curve between shoulder and slender neck.
He inhaled deeply, nuzzled to her and let his lips press feather light to her skin. He felt her tremble beneath him, a soft exhale of air brushing the tip of his ear.
Then he spoke against her skin, “It tastes like you. How did you manage that?”
He felt her slight jerk as she said, “It… what?”
He chuckled with his lips still pressed to her neck. Then he kissed his way up, stopping at her jaw before he straightened away from her.
He held his hand to her, “Come with me, vhenan.”
She hesitated for a beat before she placed her hand in his, “Ok but… you like it alright?”
He smiled, “I love it. Which is why I want you to go to the gardens with me and show me how you made it.”She beamed at him and it made his heart thud once more in his chest. They spent the rest of the day together, collecting the herbs in the fading light before she went over how to mix them with him. Then they went up to her quarters and curled up in front of the fire, each with a mug and a book until they fell asleep against each other.
Can I just say that writing playful, fluffy, Solas is one of the great joys of mine. It isn’t something that he allows to come out often which really makes me treasure it more when it peaks up out of nowhere. Ahhh that elf man.
That night, when Emma entered the Fade, she found she was nervous. She paced the living room of her Fade home, putting things down, adjusting, double checking for anything embarrassing. Solas was taking a while tonight. She kept thinking how she wished she’d not asked Sherlock to give them a bit. If she hadn’t, then she’d have her friend here to distract her thoughts, keep the doubt at bay.
It was not that she didn’t want Solas to see this. It simply felt like opening up the final piece of herself to him. There was something frightening in that. Frightening to lay herself bare, strip herself down even to her most intimate memories.
She felt the moment he finally slipped into the Fade. Then, before she could even figure out how to call out to him, he was next to her. Expression puzzled and eyes focused on her. He opened his mouth, but then his eyes finally caught on the area around him, and his lips snapped shut again.
Her heart beat hard in her chest, the thud of it even heard in her ears. Solas looked around himself slowly, keen steel eyes taking in everything. The longer the quiet drew out, the more Emma found herself fidgeting. Then his eyes locked onto something and he was moving across the room.
“Solas?”
He was at the mantle, fingers reaching out to lift one of the framed photos. She saw the gentle upward curve of his lip before he said, “How old were you?”
She released a breath of air as she walked over to him. She peeked over his shoulder to see which one he’d picked up. It was a picture from one of the years they’d gone to pick raspberries. All the girls’ lips and fingers stained red from the juice. They’d eaten much more than they’d actually picked to bring home.
A slight lean and she was pressing just a touch against his side, “Seven I believe.”
“That is your mother and sisters with you?”
“Yes, Tess is the older one and Meredith the younger.”
“Your mother has your eyes.”
She laughed, “Usually it’s said the other way around.”
He lifted it closer to his face, fingers tracing along the edge of the glass, “I have never seen such a detailed painting.”
“It’s a picture not a painting.”
His eyes shifted to her, “A picture?"
“Uh yeah it’s...,” She thought for a moment, “I admit, I don’t know much about exactly how photography works, but basically I think it has something to do with mirrors. Reflections imprinted onto film. It’s like capturing and freezing a moment in time so you can look at it later.”
“That is...,” He put the picture back and his eyes went to over the others, “All of these, this is truly what you looked like in those moments?”
“Yes, well sort of.”
“You are so happy.”
Something in the way he said it, a wistfulness and resolve to his tone, made her nervous. She hurried to ease whatever had come into his mind.
“Smiling for photos was a rule. You have to look happy in pictures, even when you’re not.”
He looked unconvinced, eyes going back to the first picture, “You look truly happy, lighter.”
“I was a kid. Kids are like that for the most part.” She smiled, “I mean, when your biggest worry is if you’re going to have cheerios or frosted flakes that morning, the world is fairly straight forward and easy.” At his puzzled glance she added, “It’s cereal brands, breakfast food.”
“Ah.” He looked over the grouping of pictures once more, “You don’t seem to have any of you when you are older. I would ask if age restriction is also a rule to this, picture, but your mother is in them and your older sister.”
She shifted, a hint of old pain stabbing at her, “We moved. I haven’t been in this house since I was eleven.”
Solas straightened, turning to her and reaching out to brush his knuckle along her cheek, “Will you show me the rest of your home?”
Her eyes lifted to meet his, “You don’t seem very surprised.”
He chuckled, leaned in to brush his nose against hers before he kissed her light and teasing, “I am not, only because I have come to expect a constant flow of unexpected from you.” He pulled from her. His hand left her cheek to draw a path down her shoulder and arm till his fingers twined with hers, “Besides, I knew you were capable.”
She moved up to her tiptoes to place a quick kiss on his jaw before she gave his hand a gentle tug and began showing him around. At first he remained reserved, but it was not long before his curiosity won out. Then he reminded her of a kid at Christmas morning with each new discovery he made.
It was simple things too, like he was absolutely fascinated by the toilet and shower. Plumbing in general was of great interest to him, and she couldn’t blame him at all, plumbing was one of the things she mourned the loss of herself.
They moved through the house slowly because of his inquisitiveness. Not that she minded. It was nice to see this side of him. Even with her he always tended towards reserved, stoic, it simply was part of who he was. So, to see him like this, wide eyed and full of excited wonder, was a true treasure to her.
When they arrived at the office, he immediately went to the shelves, fingertips brushing along the various titles as he read through them. Emma leaned against the doorframe and watched him. She tried to imprint the little details of him, the way his head would tilt just a hint when something caught his interest or how his ears would occasionally twitch at some sound only he heard. The grace of each movement as though every breath of his was part of some intricate dance.
Then he spoke, head still looking down at whatever book he had in his hands, “It would appear you were not always lacking in a desire for sweets.”
Her brows knit, “What are you---” Then it dawned on her, there were family photo albums in here, and if the books were all filled from what she remembered then… She hurried forward, “You do not need to be seeing those.”
He turned as she neared and, just as she made to grab for the photo album he lifted it high over his head, “Why? This is nothing to be embarrassed about. It too is fascinating. I have never seen so much color on a cake, nor on such an adorable little face. Tell me, did you smash your whole face into it or bring up handfuls with your little hands? I wish to envision the scene correctly.”
Despite knowing it was ineffectual, she tried to reach up to grab the book from him, “Solas. Really, this is unfair. It’s not as though we can make it even by me seeing embarrassing pictures of your childhood. Now give it here.”
He chuckled, “Why be embarrassed? You were rather endearing.”
She kept reaching, practically climbing up him in her attempt, “Were?”
The arm that wasn’t holding the book up slipped around her waist, forcing her to still against him, “Endearing would now be far to understated a term.”
He dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers in an easy kiss. When he pulled away it took her brain a moment to come back from the feel of him on her mouth. Then she frowned and continued reaching for the album.
“You can’t woo me on this, wolf. Give it.”
“Feel free to climb me for it, cat.”
She opened her mouth to speak and then realized what she should have from the start. This was the Fade, her part of the Fade. If she didn’t want the book here then she could simply will it away right? Her mouth closed and she gave him a mischievous smirk. One of his eyebrows quirked up at the expression, but before he could speak the book was gone from his fingers.
He looked up at his now empty hand and then back to her, “Now that is unfair.”
“Hardly anymore unfair than your height.”
He brought his hand down bringing it to her waist with his other, “Bring it back, vhenan. I was not done.”
“Ha, no way sir.”
He hummed in the back of his throat as his fingers sought along her sides. “Please.”
“Nope.”
Then his fingers found the flesh of her hips, they dug in there massaging, she squirmed against him, “Bring it back.”
She tried to wiggle away from him as his fingers somehow managed to find one of the few areas she was ticklish at, though she had no idea how he had guessed at the particular area of her hips.
“I won’t.”
“Very well, you leave me no choice.”
His fingers increased their movements, holding her close even as they mercilessly tickled her. She struggled, but in the end he was stronger than her. All she could do was squirm while she broke into a fit of giggles.
She spoke through her laughter, hands against his chest, “Solas, stop.”
“Do you surrender?”
“Never.”
“Then I shall not.”
He scooped her up and, before she could even react, she found herself perched on the edge of the desk, pinned there as his fingers continued their merciless journey over her. As she laughed, he dipped his head to her throat, breathed against her there, then nipped at her ear. It was only a few moments then before tickling turned to something else.
The breathlessness of her giggles shifting to another kind of breathlessness as his mouth trailed along the skin of her neck. Her fingers now gripped onto his shirt as he tasted her. His fingers stopped their tickled and instead began to caress, moving along her till they slipped under her shirt, brushed against her skin.
He nuzzled at her, hands continuing their path up her sides, “Emma, I---”
Then as abruptly as he had started, he stilled. Pressed as she was against him she could feel his muscles stiffen for a beat before he moved his hands out from under her shirt. Her eyes fluttered open to look at his face just as he pulled his mouth from her. His eyes were on the door to the room.
As he straightened, Emma followed his gaze to find Amynta standing in the doorway. Solas stood tall now but kept a hand on her, kept himself between her and Amynta. Though, it didn’t remind Emma so much of him guarding her, more like a child who was concerned a parent was going to take away a favorite toy.
Amynta’s eyes went to Emma and she smiled, “I’m sorry to interrupt.” Then her eyes shifted back to Solas, “Hello Solas. It has been a while.”
“It has.”
“I confess when I had thought of ways we would meet again this did not cross my mind. Though I suppose I should not be entirely unsurprised. Old habits.” Then, Amynta’s eyes went to Emma and she shifted, “I apologize I did not mean---”
Emma smiled and hopped off the edge of the desk, “It’s fine. He has already hinted that he was more… rambunctious in his younger years. I don’t mind, his past is his past. He is---” She stopped herself than, unsure if being so possessive as calling him hers would be appropriate.
Solas glanced at her, leaned down to kiss her forehead, “Yours. I am yours, vhenan.” Then he straightened once more and looked at Amynta, “Amynta, I believe you and I should talk.”
“If you wish.” She clasped her hands together and gave a slight nod to Emma, “Take a night to yourself, child. You deserve a bit of peace. We will work on your training more tomorrow.” Then her eyes went back to Solas, “I will meet you in your study.”
With that, she was gone. Solas turned back to Emma, brow raised, “Training?”
“Oh. Yeah, I suppose I forgot to mention that. Amynta is teaching me some basic fighting techniques. Just in case.”
“Ah, that is good. She is a skilled fighter.” He reached up to place his palm to her cheek, thumb brushing along her cheekbone, “Was she the spirit that helped you when you healed me?”
“Yes. Does that bother you? You two seem...” she paused, “Well…”
“No, I am glad. We were friends once and even now, I would be a fool to be upset by someone so skilled offering you their aid.” A pause, “Has she told you about...,” another hesitation.
“About your history together?”
A release of breath, “Yes.”
“Not really, just that she knew you and it was a long story.”
“It is complicated.” A slight knitting of his brows as he added, “We were never romantic.”
She laughed, “She told me that already and even if you had been, I meant what I said about your past. What matters to me now is what time we have together.” Then her expression turned serious again as a thought crossed her mind, “She didn’t… betray you somehow did she?”
“As I said it is… complicated, but she would not harm you. She has offered you her protection and aid, she will not go against that.”
“It’s good to know I was right in placing my trust with her.”
She felt a slight twitch to his fingers, the smallest hesitation before he spoke, “Yes, you were.” He bent his head towards her, “You do not mind if I go speak with her now? I know we had intended to---”
She brought her fingers up to his jaw, “I don’t mind at all, dearheart.”
A smile before he pressed his mouth to hers, breathed her in with his kiss, then pulled away, “Ar lath ma.”
And he was gone.
She took a deep breath and looked to the shelves around her. It felt as though there wasn’t that much time left till they would need to be awake. Had there been more, she might have tried to explore the Fade a bit, let the spirits show her something new. Instead, she pulled a book from the shelf and settled into one of the plush reading chairs. She tucked her legs beneath her and allowed herself to try to focus on the book.
It wasn’t a very successful attempt all in all. Her mind kept wandering to what Amynta and Solas could be talking about. Not that it was any of her business, but that didn’t keep her from being curious about it. The whole thing between them was strange to her and the way they’d greeted each other only served to make the curiosity about their past stronger in her.
On top of that, she kept feeling out into the waking world. It was comforting to have him so near. To be able to feel his body against hers still.
She had no idea how long this struggle to read went on for. Time in the Fade could be different from time in the waking world, but she felt when he woke. First she felt it in his breathing, the overall stirring of him next to her. Then she felt it in the soft brush of lips upon skin, fingers curling in her hair as others feathered along her skin, lighting a trail of electricity in their wake.
When her eyes opened it was to find him trailing kisses along her jaw. The morning light just starting to make its appearance as it painted the room in a warm gold. One of the beams from the window set along his broad shoulders, painting the strength in them along with the adorable softness of the freckles that were scattered there.
She shifted, brought her mouth so she could brush against the dotted flesh of his shoulders. He sighed into her skin before he moved his hand to turn her head to him and took her mouth. There were no words. They didn’t really need them in those last little stolen moments together.
She opened for him, like a bloom in the bright spring sun. He took and took till she felt everything drained out from her, released in floods of light and song. Then he gave back to her, gave her everything of him to fill up all those places he had drained. And for a bit longer they simply were.
When they were both coming back to themselves, to awareness of the world around them, she allowed herself to think what it would be like if they could be like this. If there really was another world where things were easier. Another world where she could fall asleep every night so entwined with him that their bodies couldn’t be told apart. A world where she could wake up every morning to him as her shining sun.
Solas nuzzled to her breast, gripped her tighter to him for a while longer. Then, when the room was almost full yellow with the day’s light, he gave a deep sigh against her. He unraveled himself from her slowly and moved to get their things from the bedside table. His movements uncharacteristically slow.
Emma set up behind him, pressed kisses to his back, “I love you, Solas.”
He shifted so that he could see her, started to turn his head to bring his mouth to hers then stopped himself with a shake of his head. Instead, he touched his brow to her’s for just a moment before standing from the bed.
“If I kiss you again, we will never join the others.”
“It’s a tempting thought.”
They both knew that given the current situation they would be unlikely to get any time alone, not outside of the Fade at least. It was likely many of the mages would be traveling with them, this would mean sharing of tents which in turn would mean no stolen nights. Given that, once they left here they would probably not have each other again until Haven.
Emma set up fully, letting her legs swing over the side of the bed as she reached for her clothing, “We could run away together.”
He chuckled, pulling his undershirt over his head, “Where would we go, ma vhenan?”
“You mean if the world was not ending?”
He smiled at her as he reached for his leggings, “Ideally.”
She stood and started to pull on her own clothing as she thought. Once she had on her underclothes she paused, “Everywhere.”
He stopped just as he was putting on his belt that soft smile still on his lips, “Everywhere? That is quite a broad suggestion. I was thinking more specific.”
“I want to travel with you. I want you to take me to all the places you’ve told me about. I want to walk with you in the ruins, the battlefields, all of it. I want to see everything with you, walk the Fade as one. Then, when we are both ready, find somewhere quiet to settle.” She pulled on the outer layer not looking at him as she focused on the various fastenings, “But in the end, what I want most, is simply to be with you. To fall asleep knowing that I will wake to you every morning and fall asleep against you again the next night, be that in a bed, under the stars, or tucked away in ruins.”
There was absolute silence then as she finished the last of her clothing. When she was done she was almost afraid to look up, but she forced her eyes to his face. He was staring at her, his gaze piercing into her.
She fumbled to find words, “I’m sorry did I… I mean was that too much? I didn’t mean to make you---”
Her words were cut off as he moved to her in one long stride. His hands went to her hips and pressed her against him as his mouth went hungry to hers. He bent her backwards again, leg finding it’s place between hers to hit the spot that made her release a little gasp into his mouth. Then he kissed her as only he could, consumed her. Lit her on fire till the world fell away.
When he released her, she stumbled and he had to hold her shoulders to help her balance. Both their breathing was ragged and, as soon as he knew she was steady, he took a large step back from her.
“It was not too much, Emma. I wish with all my being it could be so.” He looked out the window and for a moment his eyes went dreamy, distant, “I never thought I would meet anyone who could so thoroughly pull me from the Fade, but since I have met you, I find that I would give everything, even that, if…” His eyes turned back to her, sadness turning to resolve, “In another world, vhenan.”
It took her a moment to come back, to be able to register that his words weren’t in reference to that kiss, but to her words earlier.
When she did she took a deep breath. What she wanted to say was why not this one. What she wanted to do was throw away everything to simply be with him. Her life wasn’t just hers though. She’d made a promise long ago. A life for a life. It should have been hers now she had to amend.
She forced a soft smile, “Who knows, maybe there is some world where we are already together. Living in some cute little cottage with all the best things from my world and yours. Like not as many people and magic, but still with plumbing and coffee.”
His hand reached for her but he pulled it back to his side, “I hope it is so.”
His eyes went to the last item left for him to put on. He walked over to the it, picked up the wolf jaw, and let it drop slowly over his neck. It was like watching a new skin being thrown over him, his mask back in place, shoulders pulled straight and stoic.
She walked to him, placed a hand over the jaw, the other going to his face. There was something more to this. Something to the necklace he still wasn’t telling her. It hurt him and she wanted to help ease that, but how could she if she didn’t know the cause.
“Solas, what is---”
A banging followed by a shout from the other side of the door, “Alright you two rabbits, you better be decent. If you’re not, pull out and get that way.”
Solas and Emma exchanged a mirrored look. She let her hand fall from him as he bent to give her a kiss on the head before he chuckled.
“I am surprised it took this long, if I am honest.” He ran his hands along his clothing once to make sure everything was straight. Then he went to the door and opened it, “Good morning, Herald.”
“Is it?” Ivy’s head peeked around his shoulder to find Emma and she grinned, “Ah so it is. Look at her all glowey. Good job old man. I had my doubts but it appears you must have been adequate. Your no complaints record shall continue it would seem.”
“What a relief. That is my true goal in this existence. Though I am curious where you found these records from my earlier exploits.”
“Top secret Herald shite. Now scoot on out. Me and your misses need to talk.”
“You--”
“Out ya old egg.”
“Egg?”
Ivy reached up to tap on the crown of his head, “Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
Ivy shrugged and then pushed on his shoulders, “Scoot.”
He didn’t exactly go on his own, but Emma knew he could have stopped her from pushing him out had he really wanted to.
Still, once he was on the other side of the door he turned to look at Ivy, “I am---”
Ivy shut the door on him and turned to Emma with a grin, “Alright where can I go to sit or lean that you guys didn’t rub all over last night?”
Emma snorted then looked around, “To be honest…”
“Are you serious?”
She grinned but gave Ivy a shrug, “He’s rather enthusiastic.”
“How enthusiastic? How many times did you actually do it last night?”
She flushed, “Uh well, I dunno a few times then we bathed, then again, and then again this morning.”
Ivy gave a deep sigh and walked over to the bed. She lifted the cover between two fingers and tossed it to the side, then set on the edge of the mattress. “Andraste’s tits, so the old man does have some staying power.”
“You have no idea. He is quite---” Then she realized he might not exactly relish her telling all this, even if it was all a glowing review. She cleared her throat, “Anyways, I should thank you.”
Ivy looked up at her, head tilting, “Thank me?” Then a half grin, “I wasn’t there.”
Emma snorted again, “You know what I mean. Thank you for giving us this. A night to just be.”
For a moment Ivy’s face turned serious, “We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. If you can, you deserve to have a few moments of love. You should hold onto them.” Then she patted the bed next to her, “On another topic, I believe you were going to tell me the truth sissy. We won’t have privacy again for a while so, have at it.”
Emma took a deep breath. She loved Ivy, wanted to tell her the truth, but at the same time she was afraid. It was a lot to take for anyone. Still, she had to just keep having faith in this woman she’d come to love. So, she went to sit down next to her and started from the beginning.
He missed it. The sway of a deck beneath his boots, the roil of the waves in full fury, the cry of gulls trailing their path. No longer were they at the mercy of the land, it’s people, no longer were they downtrodden, eking out a meager living. Here they were free, here they held power, here they were a proud people once more.
He loved the summer migration. Their desert homeland far too inhospitable to remain ashore in those desolate months. In the summer, Clan Arvenis took to the sea.
“Inquisitor? Is everything alright?”
Nadas'an shifted his gaze to the present, dropping his gaze further to the nervous smile of scout Harding. “Better than alright,” his warm smile grew to a wealth of confidence. “What about you? I take its your first time at sea?” She chuckled with a bit of anxiety, “It’s that obvious huh?” He nodded, “A little. I’m more surprised that you seem more comfortable with the constant threat of corpses.” He chuckled at her cheeky shrug of acceptance. “We really do not pay you enough. I thought this would be a nice break for you, an easy mission. I apologize, I should have asked.”
She swayed dangerously on her feet as the ship cut through a wave, “Oh don’t worry about me Inquisitor I’ll get used to it, eventually. Though you should probably worry about your, um companion. He didn’t look too good.”
He raised an eyebrow, “Solas? Hmmm I’ll admit I haven’t seen him since we left port. Thank you, lady Harding. I will look into the matter presently.” She chuckled at his ostentatious bow made slightly more ridiculous by the bobbing of the ship.
He admired her enthusiasm, watching absently as she shuffled off below deck. He took a deep breath of the familiar air before following, wondering where Solas had gotten off to.
He found the man in their cabin, fingers firmly pressed to both temples as he sat on the edge of their bunk. Feet planted wide around a bucket on the floor. He stifled a chuckle at the unmistakable shade of green in the dim light that couldn’t be attributed to the softly glowing anchor. “Really? Sea travel doesn’t sit well with you?”
The man’s answer was clipped, as if usual lengthy explanation would give the contents of his stomach the exit it desired. “Hush. I am trying to focus.”
He chuckled, sitting down at his side, massaging the back of the man’s neck. “There are a few things I could try if, well, if you cannot focus, mi amor.”
Solas’ answer was cut short by a violent heave into the bucket. “Cht, ohhhh.” He rubbed the poor elf’s back before getting up to fetch the waterskin and a small cloth from his pack.
He offered them up, lamenting that the pale elf looked a fair shade paler as he accepted them, “Did the Elvhen never travel by sea?”
Solas rinsed out his mouth, spitting into the bucket with a grimace. He shook his head minutely. “Once they did, long even before my time. After the pathways were established there was little reason to. The seas were even more dangerous then, creatures, great leviathans, even spirits ancient and willful ruled there.” He lowered his voice, “It feels different, with the Veil in place. More disorienting, I.. Am not sure why.”
“Hmmm.”
Solas turned to him, eyebrow raised.
“Oh it is nothing, I am just amused at the prospect of tending to you for once.”
The man scoffed, turning away with what dignity remained to him. He laughed pulling the wolf back against him. “Oh come now mi amor, you know you like giving up your control.” Solas weakly fought his hold, “Un. hand. me. or next time I will miss the bucket.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No, merely… Ugh… a likely outcome.”
He relented, allowing the man his space as he rummaged through his pack, seeking out the herbs for the concoction for easing seasickness.
Pinching out several portions from careworn satchels into his mortar, grinding them into a thin paste. Sneaking careful glances at Solas while he worked. The man’s fingers firmly digging into his temples once more. He reached for a rejuvenation potion, uncapping it. The recipe normally called for a thickening paste made of water and crushed elfroot but he felt the man could use the extra care. Tipping half its contents into the mortar and fully mixing the herbs setting the whole thing aside with a cautious sniff. He settled at Solas’ back gently rubbing the tense muscles, it would help if the man could manage to relax. It was to no avail, his current state resisted even his most skilled efforts.
“How do you feel about Oranges?”
“What?”
“The fruit, you know, I could use one to mask the smell, only…”
A hand left his temple to clutch his stomach, “Ugh, only what?”
He chuckled, “Well if it doesn’t work, and you remain sick it might put you off oranges forever.”
“That is a risk I am willing to take.”
He slid off the edge of the bunk, striding across the cramped room to the idle bucket of fruit, thankful Solas hadn’t upended this one in his hasty quest for a place to throw up. Plucking an orange and a redder cousin from the bucket before settling back down. Casting a slight spell for heat upon the thickening salve, he took up a small knife, cutting an equally small slit in the fruit. Carefully crushing the entire thing of it’s juice. The warm smell of citrus overpowered the slight scent of sick hanging about their stuffy quarters.
He set the husk aside, whisking the juice into the paste, heating it further.
“So… this may work, but it may also knock you out cold. It’s a powerful soporific.”
“If that is a downside, Mahvir, I fail to see why.”
His tone grew tinged with his amusement, “For you probably not. Though I’ll admit, this trip will be much less fun if you are to sleep through it.” Solas’ questioning expression fell into a deadpan realization.
“Seriously. You wish to… Here?”
“Do you not?” He set the mortar aside, to let it cool naturally, “The unsteadiness of the bed, rocking under us- even as we passionately rut against one another? It would be much like that spell you used that one time. I seem to remember you enjoying it, thoroughly.”
Solas reflexively rolled his eyes, wincing mid way shuttering them closed as he leaned back over the bucket with a grimace. Followed shortly by an entirely dry heave as the man’s stomach had nothing left to give.
“Well, good news is you don’t have to eat this. It’s a salve. I will warn you though, it still doesn’t smell the greatest.”
“Ugh. Of course. Remind me why I agreed to this?”
He chuckled, wrapping an arm around his beleaguered lover, pointedly affecting Vivienne’s displeasure, “Why, Appearances my darling, your pathways are still beyond our reach, and like it or not abnormal travel will tip our hand.”
Solas in all his wealth of self control somehow managed not to roll his eyes this time. He tugged lightly at the man’s tunic. “Come now, off with your shirt. You’ll have a better chance of staying awake if I keep it away from your face.”
His lover lay dozing upon their bunk. Snoring open-mouthed a hair louder than usual. He gazed fondly at the elf, tempted to try and find him in dreams. Yet in such a deep sleep he felt it not wise to give in, worried that something may happen to them if he indulged. Slicing open the blood orange he’d grabbed earlier, he settled in, contenting himself to keep watch while he contemplated their next move.
Moro thought it odd that Solas requested she change all but the wrap that held her hair at bay when she returned from the Hinterlands. She complied nonetheless, the long chiffon textured gown the only other item of clothing now on her person.
She sat on the floor of her room, along with Solas. The man bared from head to toe, although there was no sexual tension in the air.
No, he seemed much more pre-occupied with what she wore, her face free of make-up, as he had requested of her. Both remained crossed-legged on the soft carpet beneath them, face to face.
“Y’know Solas…if you really like my outfits I can let you borrow them if you want. I’m not one to judge.” She jested, an eyebrow raised and grin small as she watched Solas mirror her own expression. His eyes crinkled with mirth at her innocent jibe, thumb and forefinger rubbing the silky material of her gown.
“Your new position has come with benefits Vhenan, and you have taken to them well. Have you always had a penchant for the more extravagant?”
Moro hadn’t expected the question, taken aback but bouncing an answer back to him just as quickly.
“Doesn’t every little girl dream of pretty dresses for when they grow up love? Even Dalish can desire some finery now and then.”
“Ah yes, but you did not grow up a little Dalish girl did you?”
“You have me there Solas, if you know that you can imagine I saw a good few noble ladies growing up. My mother always did hate it when I ventured out of the alienage…but alas, I’ve never been a very good listener.”
Solas’ smile grew wider and it became clear to Moro what game he was playing. He was after knowledge, titbits of who she was. Learn more of the woman he called his heart, his vhenan. When his eyes moved from the nightshift to the wrap on her head she decided to oblige before he could ask. Twisting around till she had her back facing his, head bent back and bestowing her permission.
“Ma serannas, ma vhenan.”
There was a softness to his voice, she had a handful of these fabrics they were precious to her. Never to be touched. His fingers were gentle and methodical as they slowly unveiled her hair.
As soon as the last of it was shed, she was turning back to face him. His eyes locked on her own as he held the scarf across his lap.
“May I?”
Moro nodded as she looked from the cloth to his face, smiling as he laid it across his lap and traced the patterns adored in the stitching. Fingers tracing and eyes lit.
“It is impressive work.”
“They were my mothers,” Moro confessed.
She held so much of herself close like careful secrets. But there was something in this, almost ritualistic in this solitude shared that felt like a balm between them. “Gifts from my father, that belonged to his mother. My grandmother.”
She thought relinquishing such confessions would feel alien and displeasing, but it didn’t.
“They are beautiful.”
“They are of Nevarren make, if you were curious.”
“Nevarren?”
“Yes,” Moro said as she took the scarf back and began folding it carefully. “My father was from Nevarra. Before he was sent to Wycome to marry my mother.”
From what Moro remembered when she had asked her mother about it, the transition had been difficult for him. He had never regretted his marriage or children, but even at such a young age they all knew he never did truly feel at home. That he always seemed discontent about something. As if he didn’t want to be wherever he was.
Moro seemed miffed by it at first as a child, but when she became part of Clan Lavellan she had finally understood that feeling. It was never pleasant, she felt it even more now here at Skyhold.
“Vhenan?”
Moro was pulled from her thoughts as Solas inched closer, his hands faltering before she pulled her hair across one shoulder. His fingers threading through the long soft waves, excessively long The Iron Bull had once commented.
“You can see the necessity for covering my hair.” Moro chuckled, laughter deepening when Solas proceeded to use two hands. Nose scrunching up when he brought it up to his nose, not expecting the scent that welcomed him.
“You continue to defy expectations my love.”
“Thought it would smell flowery and sweet did you?” She quipped, laughing again.
“It is nutty instead it would seem.”
“From the oils and hair mixtures, yes.”
“Another Nevarren specialty?”
“Yes. Although I hear such practices are done in Rivain as well.”
Solas lets her hair go, his hand tracing gently across the scar along her jawline. Moro doesn’t freeze from the contact, but there is a sharpness to her posture that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. His hand is moving away from her jaw to tilt her head towards him and press her lips firmly against his own. Soft and swift.
“I am sorry Moro…I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Her fingers are tracing the scar where his own once were. From the start of her chin to her earlobe, it stood stark and loud on her skin. She was tempted to end this little ‘thing’, whatever it was they were doing. The memory accompanying the scar still painful, even though it had been at least twenty years since it happened.
“I fell from an abandoned shack in the alienage when I was about twelve…maybe thirteen. There was plenty of debris and broken wooden planks to break my fall though. I was bloody, crying mess.”
Solas winces slightly at the information, his thumb tracing over the scar instinctively. His lip press gently at her chin where it starts, Moro winces but allows it. Her eyes are shut as he follows the line of her scar with his lips, his face pressing against the side of her own when he reaches her lobe.
Moro’s eyes were downcast as she recalled that event, the first loss of many.
“I had a brother, older than me…he came into his magic right there and then. It surprised me and I lost my balance.”
“You had a brother? He was a mage?”
“Yes,” Moro whispered, pressing gently against the bend of his arm. “I’m not ready to speak about him…I’m sorry.”
“No no…I should not have pried.”
Moro laughed softly, it eased Solas slightly. His hand running across her forearm to link hands with her, his smile returning.
“This entire thing has been about you prying. I’m simply enjoying this ma’lath, and I don’t want to linger on unpleasant memories.”
Solas’ hand not held in Moro’s was sinking in her hair, pulling her close for a deeper kiss. It was slow, exploring with lips and tongues. His hand tugging slightly at her hair when she moaned and sighed into his mouth. A low hum of approval leaving her as they pressed their foreheads together. Amusement lighting her eyes to find him still soft below them, impressed almost.
“Someone’s strong willed today.” She remarked, a small snort escaping Solas when he looked down where her eyes lingered. He shrugged his shoulder, curiosity rekindled when he saw the palm of her hand. Pulling the other to see the matching orange pigment to them.
“It’s from the hair mixtures, it stains the hands. It would probably fade if I stopped, but I won’t.”
“I had always wondered why your hands were like this.” Solas remarked.
He took her hand in his, fingers long and calloused and the nails trimmed down. Hard, even for a hunter.
She was dangerous with her daggers in battle, but she avoided using them when she could he had noticed. Preferred to use her hands either to subdue or end their enemies lives, it was unpleasant to watch at times. The efficiency with which she brought down her opponents under the cover of darkness, face calm and void of any hint of fear or hesitation.
She had once told him, when first they began to work together that her place as hunter was with the warriors. Patrolling the borders of their encampments, protecting the clan from outside threats.
Learning to knock out a human and keep them alive is better than shooting him in the back or sinking a dagger in his throat she had remarked. Sometimes the risk of killing humans could be too great.
He brought her hand to his lips, eyes closed as he let her cradle his cheek.
“Would you like to see more ma’lath?” Moro asked, her gown falling and leaving a shoulder bare.
Inviting him to search further with mischief in her gaze.
