Fandom: Dragon Age Words: 2982 (this part)
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Iwyn Lavellan x Solas | post Crestwood, time travel | romance, angst rating: explicit (this part is E). Romance, fluff, sexual content, love, figuring things out, magic, happy ending, ensemble cast, time travel magic, swearing
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Temporal Arrangements, chapter 11
\ They manage to kill Corypheus, but just barely. The fight was a blur, but he is dead, stricken down alongside his dragon. She somehow manages to catch the orb when it falls from Corypheus’ hand, and now it buzzes against her hand, her left arm in agony. She collapses around it.
“Iwyn,” Solas calls and rushes to her. He was beside her the whole fight, his barriers keeping her safe. Safer. She thinks she is bleeding, but she doesn’t know where. Solas has a trickle of blood flowing from his mouth, and she tries to wipe it away. It just smears.
“Iwyn,” he says again.
“The orb – my hand. It hurts. Something’s wrong.”
He shakes his head.
“The mark seeks the orb. It is not wrong, but could be dangerous, or cause more pain.” His hands are around hers and the orb, resting on it. “Can I – can I remove it now? The mark.”
She has made up her mind already, but it’s sudden. All her doubts are there, and adrenaline still rushes through her veins. Is she ready to give up the mark? Corypheus is dead, but there are still rifts out there. And she has no idea what will happen to the Inquisition, or to her, now. Her leg hurts too. Maybe that’s where the blood is from. Did Solas get hit? Should he do this now?
“Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m fine.” He kisses her cheek.
“Do it, then.” She tries to sit up, but ends up just leaning into him. He lets her, and takes her hands, orb and all, in his. His hands start to glow, a cool blue glow. His magic, familiar and welcome, runs down her arm and it starts to calm the buzzing inside of her. His casting is silent, and he doesn’t move, just furrowing his brow in concentration. The blue mingles with the green of the mark, and flows into and around the orb. The angry green of the breach fades away, leaving calm magic swirling along the surface of the orb.
Solas stops casting, and the orb slips from her hands. It floats above his.
“The magic is home. It was never meant to exist outside the orb.” He sounds distant, and she wonders briefly if he will take it and leave.
“Come,” he says instead, and they get up together. “Is your hand feeling alright? I would like to test a few things, but it can wait.”
“I’m fine.” She flexes her hand. “It feels fine. Different. No pain and no… buzzing inside of me.”
“Good – here, you’re injured.” He crouches in front of her, his right hand on her thigh where she is bleeding. His familiar healing washes over her. The orb is floating above his left hand, emitting a subtle teal glow, cool and soothing. It looks like it belongs there.
He gets up, and she leans on him, thankful. They start to walk.
“You were bleeding,” she says.
“I just overspent my mana. It is – not an issue now.”
“We have to tell,” she says. No one will think the orb was ever meant to belong to anyone but Solas. They others also deserve the truth, all of it. They are her friends, and she will not hide this from them.
“Yes,” he says, and then they are down the stairs, and everyone is there. Sera flies into her arms, and Thom hugs her long and fierce. They’re swept up in the relief of celebration, everyone elated and exhausted.
-
Later, when they are back in Skyhold, Josephine calls a meeting. Everyone files into the War Room, all her companions and advisors. They need to figure out what happens next, to the Inquisition, what is left to do. How to help people. When a new Divine will be selected. How to message the nations of Thedas about Corypheus’ death and the Inquisition’s victory. How to celebrate with everyone in Skyhold. Josie lists everything, and ends with declaring she has already started preparations for a party tonight – dinner for the nobles visiting, food and ale for the soldiers.
“We still have battles to come and much more to do, but for tonight, let us celebrate,” Josephine says. Everyone nods and smiles, filled with relief. Iwyn smiles too, and then looks to Solas. He nods. Better sooner than later.
“We have one more thing to discuss today,” she says.
Iwyn takes the orb from Solas, and places it on the wartable. It stings where she touches it, and it glows faintly.
“The orb.”
“Can we destroy it?” Cassandra asks, and several of the others nod. It is a reasonable question, she supposes.
“No,” Solas says. “It is no longer possible. I was able to remove the Mark from Iwyn’s – from the Inquisitor’s arm, and put the magic back in the orb, so to speak. The orb is impervious.”
“How do you know?” Dorian asks. Iwyn is sure he has realized it must be elvish, or that Solas must know more than he has shared. She takes a step closer to Solas.
“I know because the orb is mine,” he says, his back stiffening. “But I think it is better if I start from the beginning.”
His last words are almost drowned out by everyone asking questions – how, what do you mean, explain! Cullen has his hand on his sword, Sera has taken a step forward and Morrigan retreats closer to the door.
“Let him explain,” she says, and she is raising her voice. It comes out sharper than she intended, but it works. Everyone quiets down, and her look makes Cullen raise his hand from his pommel to fold his arms over his chest. “I know the story – some of the story. Solas is not here to harm you, and neither will the orb.”
Not right now, at least. She remembers his power sweeping the ancient battlefield, but that they don’t have to know.
“As I have told you,” Solas begins, “I am an ancient elf, having slept in uthenera for thousands of years. That is not all I am. I am uncertain how well versed you are in Dalish legends, but you must all know of the Creators, the Evanuris that the Dalish revere as gods.”
Everyone nods.
“They are not gods. In short, they were powerful mages who were raised up as such by their own people. They were blinded by their own greed and power as time went on. I was one of them. I am who the Dalish call Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf.”
Everyone starts speaking at once, confused questions and silent frowns. Iwyn suspects they don’t really know what it means. Morrigan might now some of it, and she is leaning against the wall with an unreadable expression on her face. Solas waits until everyone is silent again and then tells his story, much as he told her. How he brought up the veil, and fell into uthenera, and awoke in a strange world. His attempt to unlock the orb, and then tried to let Corypheus do it. His future plans, what chaos it would have brought, and how is no longer sure of them.
“It is your fault, then” Cassandra says. “It is you we should have brought to trial.”
Solas nods. “Do you still intend to?”
Iwyn thinks there might be a challenge in his words, but it doesn’t matter. She will not let that happen.
“Do you still mean to destroy the veil? The world?”
Solas sighs, and Iwyn holds her breath. She can feel his distress and she wants to leave, to comfort him, but it is better to get it all over with now.
“No. I do not. The world is… the world has changed. I cannot restore what was, and even if I could, I’m no longer certain that it is desirable. It does not mean I am satisfied with what is in the world now, and that I think the veil is working as it should. But I do not seek to take any action which would not lead to more chaos and suffering”. He looks at everyone. “Besides, I understand a little more of this world, and there are too many… to much which would be destroyed.”
“Friendship, where none were expected. Love. Passion. New things to learn, to understand.” Cole says quietly. “A home away from home.”
“Yes, Cole. I am no longer a stranger here, and the people in this world are no longer strange.” He pauses, choosing his words careful. “To be frank, there are still people I have lost, people who are missed, sleeping, waiting to awaken. I wish for the world to be safe for them to do so.”
Cassandra nods. “You wish to save your people. I understand.”
“Thank you.”
Iwyn can feel him relax, a miniscule change in the set of his shoulders, an easing of his magic. She doubts anyone else notices, but his relief is clear to her. She reaches out, and laces her fingers with his.
With that, the meeting is over, with only a few more brief notes from Josie about the evening’s party.
-
The party is a happy celebration, far too big for something put together in an afternoon. Josephine has managed to organize bright candles and decorations, and the tables are littered with confetti. The food is lavish, and Maryden has already composed a victory song. Iwyn has the sneaking suspicion that this was planned long before victory was certain. She wonders briefly if Josie had planned a funeral too, and decides not to dwell on it.
Throughout the evening, she passes from one table to another, celebrated for her victory. Everyone wants to talk with her, and with her inner circle. She has barely time to see her friends, let alone talk and celebrate with them.
Solas finds her later, when she has disentangled herself from at least five boring conversations with visiting nobles. She might be hiding a bit, on the balcony above the main hall, drinking her wine. She is glad he finds her, and leans into his embrace.
“How are you feeling, vhenan?”
I’m… alright. Exhausted. The fight, the party. And… everything.” She thinks of the orb ,and his power and the looks she’s been getting. She looks away.
Solas reaches for her, his hand cupping her face. Then he hesitates.
“Should I leave you alone?”
“No, she says, and she kisses his hand. “You stay here.”
“I will,” he says, relaxed and happy, and she smiles too.
She steps closer and kiss him. She needs him. It’s been a long day, a long fight, but they survived. They rescued the orb and so many things are uncertain, but Solas is here, his hands resting on her hips, his lips on hers. She wants more, closer. She wants to forget the fight or celebrate it is over.
“Someone could see us,” he murmurs against her ear. The noise from the party drift up to them, the hall is still full, with no sign of the celebration winding down.
“I don’t care,” she replies. She’d have him, right here, if she could. She doesn’t care about the party anymore. All she can think of is Solas, his hands roaming over her. His lips. The pressure of his thigh against her core. “I should, though. Josie will be disappointed if I cause a scandal, and I think I’ve doing enough for tonight. Let’s leave.”
-
As soon as they are inside their chamber, she pushes him against the wall. The meeting and the party didn’t really drain all the adrenaline from her, and every part of her is still screaming that they’re alive, alive, alive. Solas is alive and real against her, his tunic rough and his lips soft and giving. She bites them to hear him groan, and the sound goes straight to her core. His hips bucks against hers, and he is hard, as turned on as she is. She needs this. She needs to know he wants her, that she can have him, even as the power she wielded is gone, trapped inside the orb only he controls.
She slowly, deliberately, trail her fingers up his broad chest, and down his solid arms. She closes her hands over his wrists, pushing his hands from her ass to the wall, keeping them there, as she still kisses him.
He lets her, giving in with deeper groans. He still pushes against her, trying to get closer, but he does not move his hands, or try to take control. Instead he kisses her deeper, pressing his hips to her, his hardness rubbing against her.
“Iwyn, vhenan, please.” he says, his eyes dark.
“I want you, Solas. I want all of you.”
It’s the right thing to say, and the truth. She wants Solas, all and everything that she knows of him now, his power, his past and his future. He kisses her harder, and strains against her grip, his nails scraping the stone wall. He bites her lip in turn.
“Against the wall?” he asks, rough and low.
She shakes her head. “Bed. And naked.” They’ve won, and they’ve time. Solas chuckles and nods. She lets go of his wrists, and puts one hand in his, and pulls him across the room.
They undress themselves and each other, kissing and touching as they go. She can’t keep her hands off his smooth skin when he pulls his shirt off, she can’t keep her lips from his freckled chest and pink nipples. She needs to touch, to taste, to be close. He repays the favor when she pulls down her pants, his hands roaming over her ass, squeezing and caressing.
Naked, they fall into bed, still touching each other. Everything is soft and warm and naked skin and roaming hands. She’s wrapped up in him, and it feels like coming home, more than the bed, and the room, and the victory. It’s what she yearns for. It’s the only thing that matters.
They touch and her need grows, and she pushes his head down her body, down between her legs where she wants him. Solas looks at her, his eyes burning, and he kisses her inner thigh, sending lightning down her legs. Her toes curl and her hands grasp. She has no idea if he uses actual magic, or if all the sensations are conjured by his lips on her skin. He reaches the top of her thigh and he keeps moving, featherlight kisses until he finally puts his lips on her sex. She tilts her hips to encourage him, she needs him closer, more, anything to relieve her aching need.
He doesn’t disappoint, sucking and licking, moving his skillful tongue around and across her clit, and down below. It’s a blur of sensations, moans and need and release, soon she is jerking against his face, holding him in place, though he is not interested in going anywhere else.
She eases her grip as she comes down, and Solas pulls back, but just a little. He is still licking and sucking, more gently now. Her every nerve is on fire, and she keeps shuddering with every touch to her sensitive skin. He adds and removes pressure, and she wants him to continue, to stop, everything a sensitive messy blur.
Finally, she tugs on his ear until he stops, and she pulls him up and close. She doesn’t care she can taste herself on his lips. She wants him. He obliges, and groans into her mouth.
After revealing his true name earlier today, he held himself a little back, proud and remote like in Arlathan, to fulfill the role as Fen’Harel, The Dread Wolf, no matter that people didn’t know much. They knew just enough to make him fall into the role he assumed for himself, or was foisted upon him. Enough to make him wary and hide behind his mask. Not here, here he is just Solas, scholar, lover and hers. This is who she loves, and this is what makes her heart sing for their future.
His eyes are filled with love and desire, and it’s all hers.
“I want you, Solas. I want you.” She runs her hands down his back. “I love you. Ar lath ma.”
“Ar lath math, Iwyn,” he replies, and he enters her in one deep stroke.
He moves slowly, his eyes locked with hers. She clutches his shoulders, her legs wrapped around his hip, wanting him closer and deeper. He feels so good inside of her, and she tells him.
Solas groans and moves faster, and she encourages him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. She kisses what she can reach, his throat, his chest.
“Iwyn, I can’t – I’m – ”
“Let go, Solas, let go.” She will take what he can give, her sex swollen and sensitive from the earlier attention of his mouth, and she is ready for him.
His hips snaps against hers, his eyes closed in deep pleasure, as he shudders and falls over his edge. A few short strokes later he collapses on top of her, into her arms.
“I love you,” she mumbles, stroking his back. “I love you, Solas.”
He answers back in kind.
-
The next morning, Iwyn wakes first. Solas is sleeping peacefully, and with a small smile she gets up and walks to the balcony. The sky is painted pink and gold by the sunrise. She stands there, breathing in the sunrise and the peace. No Breach, no Mark.
A little while later she hears Solas behind her, his bare feet crossing the floor. He wraps his arms, and a blanket, around her.
“What now?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” he says, and kisses the top of her head. “But no matter what may come, we will face it together.”
She leans back into him, and together they watch a new day begin.