Here’s a short story I’ve been sitting on for a long time. It feels good to finally have it finished, thank you to @ma-serannas-vhenan for making me write more and dive deeper. (Also I’m sorry I can’t cut on mobile 😭)
I’ve always been shamelessly curious about Solas’ feet, and I’d imagine Veowyn would feel the same. Sorry not sorry for writing this.
“Do your feet not hurt, Solas?” Veowyn noted lightly as the party made their way through the seemingly always damp and rocky shores of the Storm Coast. The largest of boulders to the smallest of pebbles dotted the landscape, creating a playground of twisted ankles and stubbed toes. Veowyn wouldn’t admit that she had slipped twice already, the second time nearly knocking out her teeth if Solas hadn’t caught her in time. He lectured her about being cautious of her surroundings, only to step directly into a puddle afterwards. Blackwall seemed to know his way around better than the other members of the team, telling stories about his time as a recruiter in the area, and Cole sat happily upon the horse, not bothered that even the horse seemed to struggle in the terrain. The small group had returned after their recruitment of The Iron Bull’s Chargers to gather information about the Grey Wardens at Blackwalls request. They checked the map often, the last warden camp on the other end of the region. They had also ran into a group of Hessarian bandits, all of whom were rather quickly dealt with after prying information about the missing scouts from them. Veowyn was also dealing with closing the remaining rifts, a task made exceedingly more difficult by the treacherous terrain.
“Hmm? What do you mean?” He paused, moving to the edge of the trail and out of the way. He leaned on his staff, his hands gripping the wood, allowing him to shift his weight. He took a moment to look down at his feet. They were bound in worn leather wrappings, the length of his toes exposed to the elements. He lifted one up, checking the bottom of it as if there was something foreign on them. He kept good care of his feet, but didn’t see how that fact mattered to everyone else.They were quite nice, Veowyn had thought to herself many times before, especially for someone who seemed to travel as much as Solas did.
He hadn’t worn shoes for the length that they had known each other. She ignored it at first, as plenty of the Dalish in her clan didn’t wear shoes, opting to wrap the heels and arches, much like Solas, or going completely barefoot. But unlike Solas, they often were heard complaining about the calluses that had formed over time, or how disagreeable certain areas were to walk barefoot, particularly small roots and rocks. But it didn’t seem to bother him at all, for no matter the weather nor the terrain, his toes were always bare. It was in areas like the Storm Coast that truly made her wonder how he was still standing.
“You don’t wear shoes.” Blackwall butted in, joining the conversation. He had been quiet for most of the walk, only speaking to give slight direction. His voice was always pleasant to Veowyn’s ears, and he had a good bite of humor that always made her laugh.
Veowyn gave a small smile, turning to face him finally. The sun was beginning to set, and only a few hours of daylight remained. But it lent itself beautiful skies, the sun on the water reflecting against Solas’ skin, making him glow in a god-like fashion. Veowyn steadied herself for a moment, refocusing on the conversation. “I guess what I mean is, how do you protect yourself from things like the cold, and these sharp rocks?” She noted to their surroundings, kicking one of the rather jagged and slick rocks that she kept herself from tripping over. Her own feet were killing her, even in her incredibly expensive distance boots she had custom made while they were in Val Royeaux. They were comfortable, and well worth what she spent, but these rocks made it hard for a flat and solid footing, and her arches were becoming sore from slipping over the smaller stones as they pushed her feet around. Her stockings had bunched in weird places, and were uncomfortably moist. She was nearly jealous of the way he seemed to float as he walked.
“My wrappings do plenty, and have served me well for a long time. I’ve never found it necessary to wear full shoes, even amongst hazardous earth.” He finally started moving again, making his way to the front of the group. He went silent, satisfied with his given answer. Veowyn made her way next to him, giving a slightly disapproving look at his stereotypically evasive answer.
“So that’s it then? A little bit of leather protects you from stepping on a caltrop? How is that safe?” Blackwall was disappointed, and made a face at Cole, who was paying more attention to the waves lapping at the shoreside. Cole enjoyed the sea, it was quiet, peaceful, and seemed to take with it the troubles of the day with each passing wave.
“Why, was there more you were expecting me to say? I certainly don’t make assumptions about your choice in footwear.” Blackwall huffed, mumbling under his breath something about boots and feet, and “Don’t come to me when you’ve got a thorn in your toe.” The inquisitor couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. She’d resort to asking him back at camp later, when they had an opportunity to be by themselves, out of the earshot of those who wanted to know too much.
The team had finally gotten closer to the abandoned warden site, but ultimately decided to retire to camp for the evening. An outpost had been set up by scouts a few weeks before their own arrival, which meant that guards patrolled on shift. As much as the privacy of a small, unmanned camp meant to her, having a couple of guards allowed her to sleep through the night for once, the worry of being ambushed distanced in her mind. They finally reached the Driftwood Margin camp, which was set up off the shore, a small bit of flat land lending itself to an appropriate camp. The sun was now a full sunset, oranges and reds reflecting beautifully off of the water, setting the whole sky aflame.
Dinner was rather uneventful, dining on simple yet filling rations. Veowyn wouldn’t say she enjoyed her meals on the road, but the time spent around the fire were moments she enjoyed the most.
Veowyn made her way to Solas’ tent after dark, sneaking quietly past the two guards on duty. Not that it really mattered, but they hadn’t gone public with their relationship at all and guards talked. She pushed her head into the heavy canvas tent, her eyes adjusting to the dimly lit space, three small veil fire candles casting a greenish glow. She found him sitting cross legged at the head of his bedroll, using the main wood beam of the tent to support his back. He had a rather large book in his hand, flipping slowly through the pages as he took in the information. “Solas.” Veowyn spoke softly, loud enough to avert the apostates attention, but not enough to be heard by the other party members.
“Inquisitor.” His eyes didn’t leave his book, but his hands paused on the page, dropping the bit of parchment that was between his fingers.
“I’ve told you to call me Veowyn, Inquisitor is too….formal.” Her nose crinkles in distaste of the name, but relaxed as the rest of her body now entered the tent. It wasn’t the biggest, but it was plenty big enough for two people. She couldn’t reach both sides of the tent if she outstretched her arms, and it was tall and long enough for two to sit comfortably. She crossed her legs at the end of the bedding, allowing her shoulders and posture to slump. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in his smell, a mix of clove and familiar earth that permitted the small area.
“Many ears are still upon us, I fear.” He nodded his head, where right outside of his tent a slim shadow whisked itself away from the canvas. A blush of red pulled rather quickly across her pale skin, the heat radiating to her pointed ears, the fear of getting “caught” exciting her. She gave him a sheepish smile, but tried not to let him see just how red she had turned. Shifting her focus, she eyed his crossed legs, and how the book sat perfectly between them. She leaned forward, pulling at the cloth at the base of his calf, where his foot wraps met the edge of his trousers.
“Give me your foot.” She looked at him earnestly, serious about her request.
“My...foot?” It was as if Veowyn had a nug for a face the way Solas stared at her, his violet eyes blinking back at her in utter confusion. He closed the book, setting it off to the side, but close enough that he could reach it again without leaving his spot.
“Yes, your foot!” She continued to pull at his pant leg until he reluctantly unfolded them, stretching his rather long legs across her lap. His face furrowed as he watched her, her request and actions definitely a first for him. She slowly unwrapped his right foot, the worn leather warm in her hand. She never paid much attention to his foot wraps, but had noted that, while she had already removed her boots and made her way over barefoot, he was still wearing the wraps. She was curious as to if he slept in the wraps, as she had never seen him without them. Even Skyhold posed the same question, as he wore them during the many late hours they spent together.
She stared at his unwrapped foot, shocked at how soft it looked. The pale flesh was nearly markless, only standard wear and tear adorned his skin. She expected them to be bruised and callused like her own, the result of the wandering and adventuring they had done for nearly six months. The rocks of the Storm Coast left her own booted feet bleeding and crying for rest, demanding to be bandaged, treated with little bits of healing magic to take off the edge. And that didn’t mention the trek through the snow to Skyhold, or the burning sands of the Western Approach. Her left hand cupped the heel of his right foot, her right hand moving to the ball. “How are your feet so soft, it’s like they’ve never been walked on?” She hadn’t touched the sole yet, still in shock at how pristine they appeared.
Solas was visibly uncomfortable, his brow furrowed, the gentle candle light catching the small wrinkles in his face. Veowyn was focused elsewhere, but had she looked up her heart would have fluttered, for even in a furrow, he was beautiful. His jawline caught light as it clenched, his eyes ever watchful. But he allowed her to look at them, figuring no harm in her curiosity. He enjoyed seeing her like this, little moments where she could be herself, and not who everyone expected her to be, however naive and sometimes childish that was. He gave her a slight chuckle at her question, seemingly simple for him to answer. He desired to pull his foot away, and go back to his book, but he kept it relaxed in her hand.
“Magic, Vhenan.” He gave her a small, obvious smile, like chiding a child at a silly question. He leaned further back against the tent post, having shifted his body weight with outstretched legs.
“Well, yes I figured that, but how do you do it?” Her tone was still curious, but it leaned into impatience, as she wanted the answer. “It must be taxing at least, I wouldn’t want to be fighting, run out of stamina or forget and get a nail, or worse, shoved into my foot.“ She stuck out her tongue playfully at him, her hand now tracing the top of his foot lightly. She made small shapes across the top of his foot, tracing down from the base of his calf to his ankle, to the tips of his toes and back.
“It’s become a passive barrier ability for me now. Like you remove your shoes, it only fades when I’ve settled inside or to bed. The wraps help protect against larger assailants, like rocks, as well as giving my feet support as I walk. Not to say I haven’t stepped on some rather nasty things, but again, magic. ” He tried to ignore her touch as he spoke, the gentle fingertips lingering against his skin welcome contact, but his guard still listened for lingering ears.
Veowyn listened to him speak, his answer finally acceptable, but her focus was still on his feet. Her thumb passed over the ball of his foot, pressing into the soft flesh to massage it gently. It was as soft as it looked, the skin giving easily underneath her touch. She continued to rub gently, her other hand now joining in. Her thumbs pressed into him, pushing against the muscle, working out knots and tension. Solas was surprised at how skilled she was, thoroughly enjoying the impromptu treatment. He was able to use magic to protect him from the elements of his journeys, but no amount of magic could prevent the muscle ache of miles upon miles of walking.
It was a surprisingly intimate moment for the two of them, until Veowyn’s hand slipped, her thumb passing a bit too lightly over the arch. He recoiled, pulling his knee to his chest, a look of shock on his face. Veowyn’s ruby eyes lit up however, a smile growing from ear to ear as she pulled at his leg again. Solas looked at her in feigned horror as he watched the mischief consume her.
“You’re ticklish!” Her voice was filled with joy as she kneeled up, lifting her body to reach herself closer to her new target. She gripped his ankle, straddling his now stretched out legs, pinning them helplessly to the bedroll.
“Inquisitor! Please — stop!” He tried to sound serious, but the small, bubbling laughs that erupted from his chest only egged her on further.
“I can’t believe you’re ticklish!!” She now went for his feet like a predator, her fingers brushing across the soft skin in a rapid pattern. She tried to keep hold as he made small little kicks, bumping against her as he tried to free his legs from her grasp.
Solas leaned forward, his hands now going for Veowyn’s sides. His fingers reached for her sheer gown, trying to tug her closer to his reach. He pulled at her narrow hips, his fingers pressing into her skin as he caught her nerves between them. He wiggled his fingers against her, tripping her ticklish nerves.
A roar of laughter rang through the tent as she tried to free herself from his grasp. She lurched forward, spinning around quickly to face him. She straddled his thighs, her own hands going to his ribs. She caught bits of his tunic under her fingers as she tickled him back, causing him to squirm uncontrollably. Fits of laughter like sparks shook Solas, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his smile took over his expression.
“Shhh! Someone might hear us!!” His face and ears were red from exertion, but the grin on his lips and the chuckle in his chest meant he wasn’t bothered. He hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time, and she seemed to always bring it out in him.
“Let them hear!” She tickled him in the sides once more, kicks and squirms resuming as he tried to remove the source of stimulation. He gripped at her wrists gently, lifting them above his head, bringing her closer to him. They paused, the two elves painting lightly from excitement, bright smiles on both of their faces. Veowyn soaked in everything he was in that moment, the way the Veil fire reflected against the two of them, the way the smell of roses and cloves mixed against their skin, the way he did exactly the same. His face softened, and her heart ached for him. She leaned in, planting a sweet kiss on his lips. Her hair fell from its braids, surrounding their faces like a veil.
“You’re going to get us in trouble.” His voice was hushed but happy, releasing her hands to rest his own again on her hips, pulling her to rest their chests together. He leaned in, tapping her blushed forehead with his own.
“With whom? The Inquisitor?” They both laughed again before descending into a small fit of hushed giggles. Veowyn shifted one last time, her head now resting against his chest. His arm held her as he settled his head on the pillow, tilting to kiss her forehead. It was late, and Veowyn quickly fell into slumber. Solas watched her sleep for a peaceful moment, time stopping as they rested against each other. How he wished moments like this lasted forever.
