Eternal Solavellan Hell

Hi! I'm Gusty/Uni and I write fanfic. Dragon Age Trash. Solas obsessed. They/them. Sometimes NSFW.

[noctuaalba]

a giveaway I promised, a giveaway I’m doing!  I’m very happy to be active on tumblr again and to thank you all - old and new and future followers!- for sticking around, here’s my smol autumn giveaway! + PRIZES + FIRST PRICE: one fully rendered single character half body  SECOND PRICE: one fully rendered single character portrait THIRD PRICE: one coloured sketch half body for more examples visit my tag 

(Most of the stuff you see on my blog is Bioware fandoms and Star Wars atm but EVERY FANDOM/OC IS WELCOME, I can draw anything as long as references are provided!)

+RULES+ 1. Follow me! It’s a followers-only giveaway so you must be following me when the giveaway ends. You can leave afterwards but if you want to stick around, I’m an art-only blog atm so I won’t clutter your dash too much 2. REBLOG this post. 1 reblog= 1 entry 3. WINNERS will be extracted through a random number generator on September 22, 9 pm GMT and notified here on tumblr +GOOD LUCK!+

[noctuaalba]

friendly reminder that I’m doing a giveaway! 16 days left to enter! 

[kreebby]

Has this been done yet, or?

[thecombustiongirl-deactivated20]

SOMEBODY DID IT

[unicornforcewinds]

OMG.

[ruxandralache]

Worked on this between commissions, because I had to see another kiss.

Referenced from this.

I AM TORMENTING MYSELF.

[bucket-o-bones]

I need more gifs like this in my life ok thank

[hella-flawless-amythyst]

Dear sweet jesus the way he deepens the kiss just ughhhh @another-hinterlands-bear  @socialmediasocrates  @thecombustiongirl  @unicornforcewinds

[unicornforcewinds]

There needs to be more of these. It's the best, worse thing ever.

[unicornforcewinds]

@socialmediasocrates is completely at fault for this. also, doll makers have gotten a lotttt better since 10 or so years ago xD First two are Ell from Grave Robber, second two are Lan from Inside the Walls. if anyone wants to make their own OCs, it’s a lot of fun, here are the makers i used. http://www.azaleasdolls.com/fantasy/game_mega-fantasy-avatar.php http://www.azaleasdolls.com/fantasy/game_cyberpunk-fashion.php

[pdlcomics]

[serpoundalotarchive132]

#somebody replace them with alistair and morrigan

[teryster]

*high pitched screaming in the background*

[unicornforcewinds]

Omg.

[bunnynoldo]

The Dread Floof

When you silently judge Inquisitor from afar (and greatly dissaprove):

When Inquisitor tries to convince you how great the Dalish are:

Secretly checking Inquisitor out in Haven:

When Inquisitor chooses to side with the Templars:

When Inquisitor kisses you in the Fade for the first time:

Pics:

[x]

[x]

[x]

[x]

[socialmediasocrates]

@hella-flawless-amythyst @unicornforcewinds

[unicornforcewinds]

You are killing me. This is all killing me. I’m dead now.

[bunnynoldo]

The Dread Floof

When you silently judge Inquisitor from afar (and greatly dissaprove):

When Inquisitor tries to convince you how great the Dalish are:

Secretly checking Inquisitor out in Haven:

When Inquisitor chooses to side with the Templars:

When Inquisitor kisses you in the Fade for the first time:

Pics:

[x]

[x]

[x]

[x]

[socialmediasocrates]

@hella-flawless-amythyst @unicornforcewinds

[unicornforcewinds]

Alright, next up will be Wolf Watcher, and I should hopefully, FINALLY, be home tomorrow. le. fucking. sigh.

[unicornforcewinds]

WAM Chapters 11 & 12

The Wolf and the Mermaid: Solas is a forensic financial investigator, and Lavellan is a mermaid performer with a mysterious past. Fluff, Smut, Angst, and lots of Drama. Solas POV.

Chapters 1 & 2.   Chapters 3 & 4.  Chapters 5 & 6.    Chapters 7 & 8.     Chapters 9 & 10.    Fic on AO3.

Chapter 11: Morrigan’s Nightclub

Solas 10:22 I need you to look into something for me.

Leliana 10:27 Of course, what is it?

Solas 10:28 No questions asked.

Leliana 10:29 Sounds suspicious, is everything alright?

Solas 10:31 That is what I intend to find out.

Leliana 10:34 So, what is it?

Solas 10:35 There will be no questions?

Leliana 10:36 I’m insulted you have to ask.

Solas 10:37 A person. Ellana Lavellan .

Leliana 10:41 [●＿●]! Your mermaid paramour?

Solas 10:42 I believe that is a question .

Leliana 10:43 Just making sure that you’re sure.

Solas 10:43 I am.

Leliana 10:45 Very well. {((=_=))}

He pinched the bridge of his nose and then spread his fingers to massage his temples. Why did everything have to be so difficult? It was an uncomfortable surprise when he received a text from Ellana that evening, though he probably should have anticipated it. After their time together, a lack of communication was a deplorable breach of etiquette on his part. It was confounding that the deeper implications of her simple message left him feeling so ill at ease, though it was unsurprising.

Ellana 4:51 Hey stranger :)

He wondered if he should not simply ignore the message, waiting to respond until his concerns were put to rest. Of course, he should not lead her to believe something was amiss by not responding, which meant that a prompt response might prove to be more prudent.

Solas 4:59 Hello

Ellana 5:02 Haven’t heard from you. Everything alright?

Solas 5:03 Apologies. I have been busy.

Ellana 5:05 Hopefully not for the entire week. I’d love a tour of your apartment ;)

Solas was not such an old man to be ignorant of her allusion. He gulped, eyes shutting instantly, and his mind flashed for a brief moment to the image of her on the dining room table. Still, strong as they may be, he was not a man to be swayed by his baser impulses.

The sensible action was to push such things firmly out of his conscious thoughts, and so he would. Agreeing to meet now would be unwise, but he did not wish to outright reject her, should his worries prove to be unfounded. If there turned out to be some credence to his suspicions, then it might be even more beneficial to keep his options open.

Solas 5:13 I may be unavailable. My plans remain unsettled until I hear from a colleague. I will inform you as soon as I’m able.

Ellana 5:16 It’s alright. There’s always next week.

The trouble with text was that it left so much room for interpretation. The subtle nuance of tone and pitch and shifting expression were utterly absent from the impersonal electronic communication. Was she resigned or disappointed or understanding of his fabricated dilemma? It was all impossible to tell. He hoped Leliana would have information for him soon, because waiting was the worst way to test his patience.

-----

A nightclub was not Solas’ natural habitat. He was both too old and too sober for the noise and the crowd. Having attended Dorian’s party, he’d intended to avoid such places for at least the rest of the year. His only consolation lay in his appearance not being part of a social obligation.

For work, he was the wolf. He prowled across the floor, moving with purpose; focused. To be an observer rather than a participant made it almost enjoyable, if perhaps not as intriguing as he might have hoped. The imminent contact with his cousin did certainly curtail whatever pleasure he might derive from the evening. He breathed in and out deeply, and readied himself.

He sat at a table on the upstairs balcony, where he was both out of sight and at a good vantage. From his perch, he could see nearly every angle of the main floor, and for the space of roughly thirty minutes, he silently observed the room. It was enough to tell him that his quarry would be found in the VIP lounge.

A pair of humans too often came and went, handing off small envelopes in exchange for currency. There was no doubt in his mind they were engaging in the sale of illicit substances, but he was unable to determine from this distance whether it was red lyrium or something more mundane.

“I did wonder at your presence, cousin, to what do I owe your honoring of my humble establishment?”

It was exactly as unpleasant to see her as he suspected it would be, but a necessary evil nonetheless.

“I need to access your VIP room.”

“And which one of my guests were you intending to harass this evening?”

“The one selling red lyrium.”

“Red… lyrium?! Tis not possible.”

“I’m afraid it is.”

She splayed a hand across her forehead, took a deep breath, and scowled.

“Fine, do what you must.”

“Thank you.”

As he turned to leave, her voice stopped him.

“Oh, and Solas?”

“Yes?”

“Do try not to get distracted by the entertainment.”

He gave her a puzzled look and she smiled at him darkly, raising her eyebrows. She was insufferable . Whatever vulgar exhibition awaited him, he felt quite certain in his ability to ignore it. The only thing of interest to him here was a step higher in the red lyrium supply chain.

The first thing he noticed was that the VIP section was much larger than he’d anticipated. There were private rooms off the main area, and a large, clear, pool of water in the center, which seemed odd but not noteworthy.

“Good to see you again, Solas, didn’t think this was your scene.”

He turned quickly to see a vaguely familiar face, Krem, wasn’t it? But what was he doing here? Solas’ heart thumped loudly in his chest, his breath catching.

“It is not, I am here on business. And yourself?”

“Same thing, though I kinda like the place myself.”

“You’re working here ?”

“Yeah, one of our usual bookings. We’re here at least once a month, usually.”

“Your security company?”

“Just me and the Chief tonight. The Sea Maiden, as he calls her, doesn’t usually require more than that.”

Solas paled, his mouth suddenly becoming intolerably dry. How was it that this kept happening? He’d been trying in earnest to avoid her, and so of course she was here. It should not come as a surprise at this point, as she seemed to be present at nearly every function he attended, so why should she not show up here as well?

“Speaking of, here she is now,” Krem informed him, chin lifting toward the center of the room.

The mermaid descended from the ceiling on her back, her lower half supported by some sort of crystalline net; her upper body arched and extending towards the floor. The music began in a slow series of low beats, becoming progressively faster and louder, the closer she got.

With a rounded back, she slowly reached her arms up to grab the net, pulling it into a sling and flipping fully over it backwards. Rotating onto her stomach, she bent over the supporting fabric and spun gracefully with increasing momentum until her torso was flush against the tail. With arms outstretched, she gripped the corners of its fluke.

It unlike anything he had seen before, and he was mesmerized - her body artfully spinning and twisting to the rhythm of the music. In other circumstances, he would not have appreciated it, but the manufactured, electronic sounds enhanced the otherworldly atmosphere, giving the performance a very appealing and exotic air.

At the end of the song, she winked at him, and he closed his mouth. How long it had been hanging open, he couldn’t say, but it was more than a little embarrassing, and the tips of his ears felt white hot. He had gone from cautiously distancing himself and suspecting her of duplicity, to a slack-jawed fool staring at her with stars in his eyes.

It was unacceptable, and he’d nearly lost sight completely of his purpose in coming here. He hoped that Leliana would have information or him soon, because being in her presence seemed to render him all but senseless. It was not until another person physically bumped into him, that he was able to turn his attention back to the matter at hand.

After a short conversation with Bull, he entered the room where his target was holed up. Looking around, he tried to subtly ascertain who was in charge, and that’s when he made eye contact with someone he vaguely recognized. For a moment they shared a significant look, both trying to recall the other, until the pieces clicked into place.

The blonde woman from the tranquil ward, who’d vanished before the police arrived. There was not a doubt in his mind.

Solas 12:27 Person of interest located in VIP lounge. Qunari will direct you.

“I believe we have business to discuss,” he told her placidly.

“What is it you want? I know you aren’t in law enforcement.”

“I seek information. Who are the Venatori?”

“You’re a clever one, Wolf,” she smiled cruelly. “As a courtesy, leave now. Where this road goes, you don’t want to.”

“Be that as it may, my course is set.”

“Then you are a fool, nothing but a dog chasing after a bone. The knowledge would serve you no use but death, if I was to share it.”

“It is my life. You would lose nothing in telling me.”

She considered him a moment while weighing the options in her head. He hoped she would decide quickly, they had precious little time before the police arrived to haul her away, and this might be his only chance to get any sort of answers.

“Alright men, there she is! Quickly now,” Cullen ordered, bursting through the door.

She smiled at him as the police approached, resolution in her eyes. They moved to grab her but she attacked, knocking one of the officers to the ground. Before they were able to capture her, she ran toward him, whispering one word, Corypheus.

He moved aside just in time to avoid being hit as they tackled her to the floor. Her eyes remained on him all the while, a small smile stuck on her face. She spoke not another word during the arrest and was led out the back entrance to a waiting squad car.

He was a little surprised she seemed to go with them willingly, and his instincts told him that all was not well. Just the same, it was a police matter now. He had what he hoped would prove to be a promising lead, and there was likely to be nothing more he required from her.

“You wanna tell me what that was about, Solas?”

Bull was leaning against the wall outside the doorway, arms crossed over his massive chest.

“A simple work matter,” he offered plainly.

“Uh huh. Look, whatever you’re involved in, it’s not my business. But, if you let any of this touch her, then I’ll make it my business. Are we clear?”

“I believe we understand each other well.”

“Glad to hear it.”

The qunari smiled at him winningly, giving him a light smack on the shoulder before walking away. He did not generally appreciate being threatened, but he could understand the sentiment behind it. Working as her bodyguard, he was naturally inclined to be protective of her, and that was nothing to fault him for.

“Leaving so soon?” a familiar voice interrupted him as he made his way to the exit.

“I had planned to, yes,” he told her, smile finding his face despite himself.

From up close, she was just Ellana, even despite the purple contacts. Beneath the allure and mystery of the costume, she was still extraordinary and the sight of her arrested his breath. His concerns all seemed so foolish now, with her in front of him. What was it he was afraid of before?

“Well, I think you pretty much shut the place down, so I’m free now, if you want company.”

She smiled, but it seemed a little hesitant, uncertain.

“I would like that very much.”

“Good choice,” she teased. “It will take me about twenty minutes to be ready, that is if you don’t mind waiting.”

“I do not, mind that is. It is probably good I speak to my cousin, anyway.”

“Alright then, I’ll see you soon.”

He bowed his head as a form of farewell and went to find Morrigan, who had apparently been waiting for him at the bar.

“Well, well. Caught yourself a fish, have you? How interesting.”

“Perhaps you should be more concerned with keeping your business in order, cousin.”

The feline smirk on her lips quickly fell into a hard line.

“So the police made an arrest, the situation has been resolved then?”

“For now, perhaps, though I suggest you monitor such things more actively in the future.”

“I will take it under advisement.”

“Then I take my leave.”

-----

They’d both been very tired when they arrived at his apartment; so they forewent physical intimacy in favor of sleep. He did not mind in the slightest, and was perfectly content just to feel the soft warmth of her body against him, burrowed together beneath the blankets. It was a miracle that he could sleep at all after the goings on of the night before, but his investigation didn’t seem quite so urgent with her beside him. In truth, he had not slept half so well since the last time they shared a bed, and he hoped to do so much more often.

“Good morning,” she groused, eyes slitting open.

“It is,” he agreed, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, pulling herself against him.

He pushed the hair out of her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. The way she leaned into his simple touch filled him with an airy sort of warmth. In the space since he’d last been with her, he’d nearly forgotten just how nice this truly felt. It was artless and honest; it was… everything. She looked up into his face and smiled lopsidedly.

“You are so beautiful ,” he spoke earnestly, placing his lips to her temple.

“Sweet talker.”

They stayed in bed for nearly an hour, simply enjoying each other’s warmth, but the increasing frequency of her stomach growling was selfish to ignore. When he offered to make breakfast, she eagerly accepted, and he was glad to return the favor.

“Do you mind if I use your computer to get a bit of work done?” she asked, while he was mixing ingredients together in a large bowl.

“My laptop is in the office, if you bring it to me, I’ll unlock it for you,” he explained, pointing to the door.

“Thanks,” she said, leaning in for a quick kiss as he bent down towards her.

He busied himself as she left the room, preparing her tea and heating a pan on the stove.

“Solas, what is this?”

He’d never heard her voice sound that way before. It was worried, sharp, and he knew something was wrong. When he turned, he could see she was holding a stack of papers in her hand, eyes searching his face; demanding answers. Oh no.

“I…” he began, but had no idea what to say.

“You’ve been investigating me?” The accusation in her voice poorly hid an undercurrent of pain, and he felt suddenly as though he could not breathe.

“There… were some inconsistencies.”

“ Inconsistencies ? And you didn’t think to simply ask me ?”

“…I suspected you may respond badly to being questioned, if indeed you were hiding something.” He kept his breathing intentionally even, forcing himself to get through this without breaking down.

“What would I be hiding, exactly? And just what business of yours would it be anyway?”

“I… do not know.”

“And I’m supposed to accept that as an answer?”

“No, I do not expect you will.”

He could feel the guilt beginning, a little wave rolling in and building up until it became tidal. He trained his face to hide the emotions underneath, it was all he could do now.

“So, because I don’t like to talk about my past with people I’m just getting to know, a trait we have in common, I might add, you assume I’m hiding some dark secret? And that seems reasonable to you?”

She was upset, hurt, and she had every right to be. To have her tell it, he was paranoid and invasive, and… was that not the truth? He violated her privacy and her trust, but his reasoning had seemed so sound.

“I realized last night that it was a mistake. In truth I have not seen the information myself.”

“Does any part of you think that makes it okay? Seriously?”

He breathed in and out slowly, steadying himself before speaking.

“No, I know that it does not.” He held onto the counter to prevent his hands from trembling.

She looked down and away, avoiding his eyes. It hurt profoundly, but he deserved it. How was he such a fool ? Did his self-sabotage truly extend to such lengths? In retrospect, he could not imagine any realm of possibility in which this would have turned out in some way other than catastrophic.

She had given him a second chance already, and it seemed impossible that she could look past this transgression. It was a misstep of considerably greater proportion than the last, and she was perfectly justified in not forgiving it. She would be done with him now, and he did not blame her in the slightest. No, he put the responsibility exactly where it belonged, he put it on himself.

“I… I have to leave.”

“For what it is worth, I –“ she cut him off before he could finish.

“Stop. Whatever you’re planning to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Of course,” he assented, exhaling deeply, “goodbye, Ellana.”

He knew it was probably the last time they would speak, and even with her still here, the gravity of losing her was profound. As she collected her things and left the apartment, she said not a word. It was the loudest silence he had ever heard in his life.

Chapter 12: A Rendezvous at the Station

"I am not in denial," he insisted flatly.

"Of course not," Dorian mocked, swirling the claret around in his glass. "And the fact that you've barely left your apartment in months is just a coincidence."

"You speak as though I have holed myself up. With as busy as work has been, simple errands are best left to Cole." He was growing somewhat indignant, but why was this any of Dorian's concern?

"And that meeting last week? Using your assistant and communicating over speaker phone? That certainly went over well." The look was pointed, but he pretended not to see it.

"I was taken ill, Dorian. Is it any wonder with the poor condition of the weather? Should I have chosen to attend, risking not only my own health but everyone else’s as well?”

"Alright," he sighed, "that I will grant you, but this?" He walked determinedly from the kitchen to the hall, thrusting open the closet door before Solas could object, and gestured emphatically towards its contents. "Is this also reasonable?"

Irritably, he pinched the bridge of his nose, and avoided looking at the carefully stacked canvases. He was a painter, and she was well suited to the medium. It hardly merited such a reaction.

Calmly, and with measured steps, he walked down the hall and shut the door. Turning away, wrists crossed behind him, he did not look back as he suggested that Dorian take his leave.

It was true, he'd been affected by her to the point of being infected, and as yet had not determined a treatment for the illness. There had been something about her though, beyond the obvious, that had touched him in a way he'd never imagined was possible. She had changed him, changed everything , and he could not simply go back.

Burying himself in his work had been an effective means of circumventing the pain, but it was not a foolproof method. Little things would cause him to recall her face or her scent, and sent him reeling. Still, it had been a largely productive few months, even if he had not left his apartment often.

The Venatori case had still not been closed however, and progress was slow, and sporadic at best. Despite his efforts, the trail had all but gone cold. As with his own condition, he hoped that being patient would turn things around. An unexpected text message that evening had come at a most opportune moment, when he was sorely in need of good news.

Cullen Rutherford 8:23 Solas, meet me at the station tomorrow at 3. It's about that case. I could use your help.

He didn't bother responding to the text, but he would, of course, show up. He was not proving Dorian wrong either, he was merely fulfilling his professional duties. Finally gaining more ground on the Venatori case would also serve as an excellent distraction. At least, that is what he hoped.

-----

The station was busier, and noisier , than he was used to. Officers were scurrying about, too otherwise occupied to take notice of someone wandering in. It was not until he'd dinged the bell a second time that anyone bothered to ascertain his purpose.

It took only a few moments for Cullen to greet him, once he’d been notified, coming out a door that civilians were not meant to travel past. His hair was unwashed, and there were heavy circles under his eyes, leading Solas to wonder at the state of his health.

"Solas," he sighed, wringing his hands, "thank the Maker you came."

"I am always happy to be of assistance, Sergeant. Can I expect that my cooperation will be remembered in the future?"

"You're as bad as Leliana," he shook his head wearily, "but it doesn't matter. Just follow me. I'll explain when we're inside."

As instructed, he followed the officer down a labyrinth of hallways, finally reaching a door accessible only via keypad and digital fingerprint scanner.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that anything you hear or see is classified?"

"You know well my discretion, Commander."

Where the rest of the precinct had been abuzz with activity, it was fairly quiet in this section, like due in no small part to the clearance level normally required to enter.

"Alright," Cullen gestured, "just have a seat there and I'll be with you in a minute. Please don't talk to anyone, technically you aren't supposed to be here."

Casually, he surveyed the room, noting the people and the screens. It all seemed fairly as expected, except that one particular person caught his eye. He could see them only from behind, and it couldn't possibly have been who he thought it was... No, it had to be only a coincidence, and wishful thinking on his part. If he was to happen upon her, it was unlikely to be here of all places.

He grew impatient as he waited, hoping they would turn their head enough that he could verify or refute what his brain was telling him. When finally they turned, his heart fell to his stomach, his spirit somehow sinking and soaring simultaneously.

That this was where he’d run into her… even now, she continued to surprise him. So close she was, and yet, he could never reach her now. That he found himself again able to take in the sight of her at all, it was so painful as to be near heartrending, and yet filled him with overwhelming relief.

Her face was like he'd never seen it - stern; focused. The officers listened to her attentively, respectfully, with a deference he'd only expect towards a superior. What brought her here, and why they reacted thus, both questions left his curiosity near bursting.

The moment she saw him, her eyes went wide with surprise, narrowing almost immediately into a withering look that cut him like a knife. She stared, mouth open slightly, wondering at an explanation, he assumed, when Cullen returned.

“Sergeant,” she stiffened, “I certainly hope you can explain to me what this civilian is doing here.”

Cullen bristled as she looked at him expectantly, the rest of the room falling silent.

“Yes, Ma'am, you see... ahem, well. Solas is something of a... an independent contractor. I've asked him here because I believe his unique talents can be of assistance to us.”

She paused, eyes sharpening minutely. “This is meant to be a secure facility. Sharing classified information with an outsider, Rutherford?” she shook her head disdainfully. “Do you imagine this breach of conduct will go unpunished? Is this the sort of thing the department has fallen to in my absence?”

“No Ma'am,” he nodded, resigned. “It was my decision, and I will take full responsibility.”

“Yes, you will. Now then,” she continued, turning towards Solas, “you will come with me.”

Admittedly a bit awestruck, he silently followed as she lead him into a meeting room of sorts. When the door was closed behind them and she'd switched off the camera feed, she finally spoke.

“The respect I have here, I worked hard for. I hope you will not do or say anything that could undermine my position.”

It hurt him to think she imagined him capable of such a thing, but after his previous betrayal of her trust, he supposed it was fair.

“Ellana, I...” but there was nothing he could say.

Clearly she was displeased to see him, and here of all places. It had obviously been a much less pleasant shock for her than it was for him.

“You need not worry, I will say nothing.” He knew not if she believed him, and could hardly blame her if she did not, but there was little besides his word that he could offer her.

“Thank you,” she acknowledged. Her tone was in sharp contrast with her words, being decidedly ungracious, but it was, perhaps, kinder than he deserved.

“May I ask,” he interrupted, as she moved for the door. She didn't turn, but she paused, and he took it as a sign to continue.

“What,” he gestured, unsure how to phrase his question, “brings you here?”

Now, she spun round to face him, eyes hard as glass and piercing into his. There was a subtle shine of wetness in her gaze, a hint of pain he mightn’t have noticed, had he been less observant or less familiar with her features.

“I'm surprised it wasn't in my file,” she snapped.

The words bit into his flesh like a blade, hurtling straight towards his heart. The resounding pang of guilt, the vivid recollection of how they had parted; how he hurt her.

“In truth,” he admitted, “I could not bring myself to read it. Though, of course, I know that changes nothing.”

Whether she believed him or not, he couldn't tell, and it did not matter. Despite that, he couldn’t help but hope she would provide him with some kind of explanation, if only to slake his burgeoning curiosity.

She sighed, closing her eyes, and shook her head, seeming to relieve built up tension.

“I am, I was, an Inquisitor.”

He felt his brow tense momentarily, surprise evident on his face. A Dalish elf Inquisitor? That was... surprising did not come close to adequate. He realized now what she'd meant, when she told him that she used to be a different person.

“That is surprising, and impressive.” It was likely also how she arranged for the Arcanist's release, he thought.

“Yes, well, I need to get back. I will trust Sergeant Rutherford’s discretion as long as you stay out of my way.”

He wanted to ask for more specific details, and why exactly she was here now, if she had indeed retired from the Inquisition. She was glad to leave her old life behind, that is what she'd confessed to him. Hopefully then, her return would only be temporary. Though the strong, nearly ferocious person he saw had impressed him, he did not enjoy seeing her personality stifled under the weight of her responsibility.

She left him alone with his thoughts, heart and mind equally conflicted. He bowed his head, releasing a slow, deep breath, and returned to where Cullen was anxiously waiting.

“I, uh, I apologize for that, Solas,” he offered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Inquisitor Lavellan is strict, but I’ve never seen her so angry. Don’t worry, I’ll sort this mess out.”

He shook his head, “you need not worry, Sergeant, the Inquisitor was more than fair. Shall we go over the reason you asked me here?”

“Yes, of course. I’d like you to take a look at these documents. Our team hasn’t been able to make heads or tails of them, and I was wondering if anything made sense to you.”

“I am glad to be service.”

His own research into Corypheus Industries had revealed precious little, and these financial records, likely gibberish to the untrained eye, were a veritable treasure trove of data, if you knew how to read them. This was the puzzle piece he needed to verify the link between the shadowy conglomerate and Gereon Alexius.

He was only too happy to help, so long as he was given a copy of the relevant information. Was he not working alongside the police on this case, more or less? Was it not then in their own best interest to aid in his investigation? Unfortunately, this decision would not be up to Cullen, and he was unsure of how Ellana would feel about it. He did doubt, however, that she would let their personal history get in the way of professional matters.

“Maker’s breath,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly and slumping into the nearest chair. “That woman is terrifying.”

With his face trained against the disappointment, Solas asked if his request had been denied.

“No,” he explained, “she’s agreed to it, but I’m likely to lose more than just my job if anything should happen.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself in such a position on my behalf, Commander.”

“I owe you Solas, but I am doing this because I believe it is the right thing to do. Whatever happens, I’m willing to accept the consequence.”

He nodded. “A position worthy of respect. I shall endeavor to be worthy of your support.”

“Do what you must, just catch the bastards.”

-----

He was feeling better, and more like himself, than he had in months. With a solid lead, at last, he was able to successfully distract his thoughts and shift his focus away from Ellana, at least, for the most part. Stray fragments would pop up, flooding his mind with her face, and her eyes, vague connections his mind had formed to words or phrases.

Even having seen her, he was better able to direct his focus elsewhere, and in time, he hoped and feared, that he could put her from his mind completely. The thought made his chest feel tight, and stung his eyes, but he pushed those feelings away, as well. He made do without her before, and he could do so again. In fact, he might find himself better off. At this moment, it was difficult to believe, but perhaps he could convince himself of it in time.

With determined resignation, he redoubled his efforts, sending off bits of information to Leliana, and forwarding others to the Arcanist. He hoped that by the morning, the seeds he’d planted would bear fruit. There was nothing left for him to do now, and though it was still fairly early, sleep seemed the least unappealing way to spend the rest of his night.

He dreamed again of the six eyed wolf and the halla, only this time, their roles were reversed. The deer bounded after the much larger beast, through a dark wood, illuminated only by scattered bits of moonlight that had broken through the trees. The deeper they went, the thicker the forest became, until the wolf found itself trapped.

It howled mournfully, bowing its head low, seeming to ask for forgiveness, or mercy. The halla reared, hissing loudly, and brought its hooves down upon the wolf. With a pained whine, the wolf curled in on itself, offering submission. With an angry thrust of its head, the wolf was gored by the halla’s horns.

Solas woke, panting; cold sweat clinging to his nightclothes. His stomach felt as though it had been ripped open, much like the wolf in his dreams. Fingers hastily pulled up his shirt, nimble fingers carefully examining the flesh. As he suspected, there was no wound, but it did not ease his discomfort. After downing a disgusting mug of tea and changing his clothes, he lied restless in bed, tossing and turning until the sun was slitting through the blinds. It had been a miserable night, but at least now it was over.

[unicornforcewinds]

WAM Chapters 9 & 10 NSFW

The Wolf and the Mermaid: Solas is a forensic financial investigator, and Lavellan is a mermaid performer with a mysterious past. Fluff, Smut, Angst, and lots of Drama. Solas POV.

Chapters 1 & 2.   Chapters 3 & 4.   Chapters 5 & 6.    Chapters 7 & 8.   Fic on AO3.

Chapter 9: Dinner with Ellana NSFW

With everything going on in his professional life, following through with their date felt irresponsible, but he could not convince himself to back out. After all that had already happened, he knew another chance was unlikely, and squandering this one was something he could not bring himself to do. Even so, in the back of his mind, a nagging thought reminded him near constantly that this was a terrible idea.

He stood outside her apartment, hand hesitating momentarily before knocking, and felt a pit forming in his stomach. His mind yet overflowed with reservations, but the moment the door was pulled open and he saw her, everything else felt unimportant. Instead of being preoccupied with why he should not, he was overwhelmed by the feeling that he should .

“Hello,” she greeted, smiling warmly.

“Hello,” he returned, a smile of his own spreading across his lips.

“Dinner is just about finished,” she informed him, turning so he could follow her, “you wanted tea with yours, right?”

As the corners of his mouth reflexively curved downwards, he heard her laugh.

“I suppose I deserved that.”

“Oh, that was teasing. The punishment comes later.”

He let out a shocked cough as she turned her head to smirk at him.

“Water will be fine.”

He grinned to himself, shaking his head, as he followed her to the kitchen.

“The plates are in that cabinet, there, and the glasses, over there” she instructed, directing him with an extended finger as she stirred with her other hand. “Can you hand me the bottle of wine from the counter?”

“White, I presume?”

“Unless you think red goes better with cream sauce.”

He wanted to kiss the smirk from her face then, but he remembered himself, and simply passed the bottle to her instead.

“And what was that look for, hmm?” she teased, raising her eyebrows.

“There was no look.”

“You’re not as good a liar as you think are. Here,” she gestured with the wooden spoon, “taste this.”

He nodded his head, obliging, and moved to comply. It was an odd angle, with her holding the spoon, but the sauce was quite good; even impressively so.

“Good?”

“Indeed it is. And, may I ask, how good a liar am I then?”

“A serious question, huh?” she teased, giving him that smirk again, as she placed the spoon back into the pot.

It was confounding that she made him feel so out of sorts, but he had to admit that it was not at all unenjoyable.

“Perhaps.”

“A good one, but not perfect.”

“Oh?”

“You have a tell.”

It had to be teasing, because he certainly had no tells, but she had said it so matter-of-factly. On the infinitesimally small chance it was true, how could she have possibly observed such a thing? Even the Nightingale could glean nothing from him, and they had been acquainted for years.

“A tell?”

“Mmhmm, ahh, dinner’s ready. Help me bring this stuff to the table.”                     

As she gathered several things in a tray on her lap, and he moved to carry the sauce pot, he tried not to let the dodge bother him. He was quite certain it was intended as a joke, but was it not rather a curious thing to joke about? And if so, why did it feel as though she was being serious? When all was laid on the table, but before serving himself, he could hold it in no longer.

“This tell you mentioned, do you intend to tell me what it supposedly is?”

He was looking at her warmly, but he steepled fingers – an indication of the middling amount of tension in his belly.

“What fun would that be?” she asked tartly, spooning food onto her plate and intentionally not looking at him.

“If such a thing existed, you would certainly tell me to prove your point. As you have not, the only logical conclusion is that your suggestion is disingenuous.”

Another smirk, as she chewed slowly on purpose, making him wait for her response. He began to wonder if she did not enjoy making things as difficult as possible.

“You can believe that, if it soothes your pride.”

She slid the next bite of food from the fork slowly, with her teeth, the drag of her lower lip more than a little alluring. It was a small thing, but it was obvious that she was deliberately toying with him.  Very well, this was a game he was not only willing, but well-equipped to play.

“Without having been wounded, it would hardly be required.”

“Would it wound you then, for me to prove you wrong? Maybe it’s in your best interest if I don’t.”

“Admittedly, I would be quite impressed, but the only thing you’ve made me doubt, as yet, is your claim.”

“I guess you’d better test your theory, then. Tell me a lie.”

This was not the friendly or even flirtatious conversation he imagined they might share over a meal. She had teased him before yes, but this was different – it felt almost predatory. What was the angle here? He had apologized to her, and it was not a little obvious that she mystified him; so what did she hope to gain from this exchange?

“Wicked Grace. Have you ever played?”

“I have,” she answered innocently, running a fingertip absently along the rim of her glass.

“Shall we play then, after dinner?”

There was an unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes when she looked at him, that feline smirk irresistible.

“If you promise not to be a sore loser.”

He could not help the small, but confident chuckle.

“You have my word.”

Once the table was cleared,  she left him briefly to collect the cards from another room.

“Last chance to back out gracefully, before I sweep the floor with you.”

“A very charitable offer, that I shall have to refuse.”

“As you wish.”

The first round went to him, a hollow and surprising victory, because he had not been playing to win. It was clear she had not either, and disappointment showed on her face. Again he had erred.

“Well, it looks like you showed me,” an insincere placation he did not appreciate, “should we call it a night, then?”

“You were hardly playing, why?”

“I could ask you the same. There’s no fun in beating someone that isn’t even trying.”

“A fair point,” he conceded apologetically, “shall we try again?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Perhaps I could convince you?” he asked, expertly shuffling the deck, and dealing five to each of them with practiced speed.

“I’m putting in only as much effort as you do,” she warned him.

“Then I shall show no mercy.”

“Good.”

The next hand went to her. She played with an impressive level of skill, which was curious, because his standards were high and he would not easily grant such praise. Every new facet of her personality that she revealed to him kept his interest continually renewed – she was a puzzle he was eager to solve. Though, he did not imagine this desire could continue to increase at the same rate it had, as yet, been.

“Again?” she asked, shuffling the cards without giving him a chance to reply.

“If you insist.”

She was out for blood, despite having won the previous hand. His gaze was drawn away from the table for the briefest moment when she crossed her legs, allowing him to glimpse the band of her stockings from beneath her skirt.

It had not distracted him enough to miss the discreet movement of her hand as she drew from the discard pile. She looked at him with casual politeness, and a believable but feigned innocence. He had never been more attracted to her than at this moment, and if he thought she’d take it, he’d have eagerly offered her a position at his firm. Anyone who could play Wicked Grace so well, would surely find success in the world of corporate finance.

His hand was not excellent, and rather than cheat even surreptitiously, he decided to bluff. It was only fair to give her a chance to prove her claims, since it had been the reason they were playing. Now, of course, it felt like something different, almost like foreplay.

When he raised his bet, she followed suit, smiling sweetly all the while. It was no real proof of anything, however, and when she won again, coincidence was the most likely explanation.

“A good game, shall we continue?”

“Do you even have to ask?” She teased her lower lip between her teeth, and he could barely withstand the anticipation.

“It would be impolite to assume.”

“But you are not always polite.”

“Am I not?”

“No, but I wouldn’t want you to be.”

“Oh?” he asked, certain he had at least an idea of what she was alluding to, but eager for her to elaborate.

“Are you going to deal or not?”

“Do you intend to continue baiting me?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Of course not.”

The next hand went to him, his first true win, and he began to feel self-satisfied in the surety that he indeed had no tells. He was still one game down, however, and enjoying himself far too much besides. After shuffling the cards, she paused before dealing, seeming to consider something, and then looked up at him.

“Do you want to make things a little more interesting?”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, an eyebrow rising.

“We could… up the stakes a little,” she suggested coquettishly, lazily reshuffling.

“And what is it you propose we wager?”

She paused a moment, tilting her head down to hide a smile. He noticed the hint of pink at the tips of her ears, and felt his breath hitch in his throat. She straightened her expression before answering, just barely looking up at him as she dealt the cards.

“Our clothes.”

He reached for his drink, both because he was suddenly feeling parched, and because he wanted her to wait for his answer. She had done the same to him more than once this evening, and though perhaps a little petty, it did feel good to give as well as take. He rolled the stem of the glass between his fingers, leaning it side to side before setting it on the table.

“You are right. That would make things more interesting.”

The first article to be removed was one of his shoes. He was a little disappointed when she removed hers, but he rather liked the idea that she might put them back on when they had finished with the cards.

She watched him attentively as he removed his shirt, taking the opportunity to steal from the discard pile. He rather disliked the unequal state of things, with her having lost only her shoes and one stocking. Watching her slowly push the stocking off, he had rather enjoyed, however, appreciating the intentional display. He was going to have to try harder, which would prove to be difficult since he had not been holding back. Of course, he did love rising to meet a challenge.

When the next stocking slid down to her ankle, she bent forward, pushing her breasts together and let out a soft mmmm . Large eyes appraised him from beneath long lashes, and his pants were becoming uncomfortably confining.  He hoped she had not seen his own swap from the discard pile, but then, if she had, it hardly mattered.

“I told you that you had a tell,” she taunted, voice low.

As she waited for him to remove his pants, she dragged a hooked finger along the neckline of her shirt, pulling it down just enough to bare the tops of her breasts.

“You are a formidable opponent, I grant you, but proof of this alleged tell has yet to be provided.”

When she dismissed him with a playful scoff, he unlatched the clasp of his watch and gently removed it. She responded with another scoff.

“You can take off your watch, but I’m not counting that as clothes. Strip.”

“So impatient, besides, I started off at a disadvantage. Surely you would not begrudge me a small handicap.”

“You’re right. Losing as badly as you are, I really should be more charitable.”

It was a playful barb, but he deserved it. How sure he’d been of himself, but it was not improper pride when no one had managed to outplay him like this before. He wondered if perhaps he should not worry at her skill, but arousal had clouded his judgment and that train of thought was one he could follow later on.

“You’re lucky that the logistics of taking off my garter belt are so much of a pain,” she teased.

His pants were still on, and her shirt was coming off. They were a little closer to even now, but she was still decidedly ahead of him. With both hands she lifted the edges slowly, fingertips dragging up her stomach. She paused a moment before raising it over her breasts, the small shake as they were freed from the garment filling him with an even greater level of want.

He was staring as she released her arms, taking the opportunity to properly admire her lingerie, comprised almost entirely of black lace. Cards seemed less and less important every passing second - he was fully hard now, and concentrating on anything other than her mouth and her breasts and what he could see of her thighs… well, it was becoming exceedingly difficult.

“Your deal,” she purred, pushing the cards towards him.

He reached out, meaning to grab them, but caught her hand instead. He was near desperate to touch her skin, the throbbing of his erection overwhelming him senses. She was soft and warm and the contact set his senses on fire.

“We can stop anytime, if you’re ready to admit defeat,” she offered, hand turning to run her fingers across his.

“I…” he sighed deeply, chastising himself internally for being so stubborn, and released her hand.

She blinked at him a few times, her chin resting on her hand. He knew well that the elbow on the table pushed her breasts together intentionally.

“If you insist.”

She made a show of acting inconvenienced, and heaved a deep sigh. The little stretch and arch of her back succeeded in driving him over the edge. She was exaggerating every movement, clearly enjoying tormenting him, and he knew that soon he would give in. Stubbornness and pride could save him if he wanted them to, but he was nearly ready to grant her victory.

With impressive resolve, they made it through another game, which he unsurprisingly lost. Her breasts were fully on the table now, being pushed together by her forearms. Her chin rested atop folded hands, while she kept at bay a triumphant smirk that threatened to overtake her smile.

Slowly, he moved his chair backwards, already aware that standing up would be difficult and awkward. Leaning against the chair for support, he adjusted his pants, hoping the shift of fabric would not be too painful. Just now, his legs were feeling rather unsteady.

Pushing up with his palms on the table, he finally stood, appreciating that she was now staring obviously and biting her lower lip. It was going to be a little difficult to remove his hands.

“You,” she drawled, voice low, “should really admit defeat.”

She was playing with the straps of her bra now, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and glancing up occasionally to look at his face. He did enjoy that her primary focus was his very obvious arousal.

“Fenhedis,” he hissed out the curse, “I yield.”

“Mmm,” she chuckled, feline smile spreading across her features, “was that so hard?”

“Yes,” he admitted, an honest answer to the double entendre.

“So, are you going to come over here or not?”

His head was swimming with desire, and he noted the tease, but he needed no further enticement. Steeling himself against the slight shake of his limbs, he let go the hesitation he’d been struggling to maintain all evening. He leaned over her, hungry lips eager to claim hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sliding his hands beneath her thighs, he lifted her up, legs spreading to grip either side of his waist, and he turned her around and set her on the table. She moaned into his mouth as her hips rocked against him. She pulled back for a moment, and his hands palmed her ass greedily, squeezing and pressing her against him. He was so hard that is was painful, but he was finally nearing relief. He had been a fool to wait so long.

“Take your pants off,” she instructed him, speaking almost into his mouth when he would not relent.

Her hand cupped him through the fabric and was gently massaging, his hips jerking reflexively. He reminded himself of the necessity of their disentangling enough to perform the task. Nearly in one move, his pants and boxers were shoved to his knees, freeing himself from the uncomfortable restraint.

Dammit , he thought, in a moment of clear-headedness, before he forgot himself again.

“Condoms.”

It was meant to be a question, but came out in a rushed, husky breath.

“Dresser in the bedroom… but there should be some in my purse, it’s closer. Table in the hallway by the front door.”

She released him, his desire so overpowering that the loss of contact was a sudden shock. He promised himself to be less stubborn regarding her in the future. Bringing the purse to her, thighs again wrapping around his waist, but there was still black and red lace in his way.

He was pressing hard against her stomach, and she began stroking him idly with one hand as she dug through her purse with the other. His hands were on her, pulling her tightly against him, mouth kissing her jaw, teasing the flesh with his teeth. When his tongue flicked the tip of her ear, her hips jerked suddenly and she let out a loud moan.

“If you,” she panted, “don’t stop, I, ahhh, mmm, take over for me.”

As she focused her attention on finding a condom, he lifted her skirt up, stroking himself with one hand and sliding his hand underneath her panties with the other. His hand pumped up and down much slower than he wanted, resisting with all his strength as his other hand slid further underneath her.

He let out a groan, she was exceedingly wet – the fabric soaked through.

His middle finger slipped inside her easily, her arousal almost as great as his own, and she bucked her hips against him as another moan escaped her. The noises she made were incredible, just like everything else about her.

“Fuck, forget it. Sex later, I need.”

She leaned back to slide her panties down, and he released her, moving to the side and removing them as quickly as he could without tearing them off. He pushed her knees apart, taking a moment to appreciate the view as nimble fingers gripped his cock and a hand against his neck pulled him back down.

He pushed two fingers inside her, his thumb rubbing her clit as he thrust his hand inside her.

“Creators!” she gasped, grinding against him.

One hand worked skillfully around his length, the rhythm matching his fingers inside her, as fingernails dug into the back of his shoulder. He managed to unclasp her bra with his free hand, the fabric hanging crudely across her chest. Deftly, he squeezed one exposed breast, fingers teasing its hardened peak, eliciting a cry of pleasure from her.

“Harder,” she commanded, quickening her pace, and he gladly obeyed.

He couldn’t respond to her now, his breaths too ragged and thoughts too far away for his mouth to work properly. He was drunk on her, the feel of her; the sounds she made. When she bit the intersection between his neck and shoulder, he thrust hard against her hand, sensation burning through him, and his fingers working inside her reached a frenzied pace.

“Solas, ahh, oh gods.”

Hearing her say his name like that, it was nearly enough to undo him, but he could wait; needed to wait just a little longer. She was panting now, desperate, her legs shaking. He put his arm around her to support her neck as she arched backwards, forcing himself to stay focused on her as his body tried to betray him. Almost there, her grip on him went a little slack, tightening again when his hips began thrusting into her hand.

A sudden loud banging sound snapped them both to attention, their ministrations halting momentarily. Someone was knocking at the door, but they couldn’t stop now that they were so close. Whoever it was could wait forever; neither of them could care in this moment.

Frantically, she ground her hips against his fingers, stifling moans by biting down on shoulder. His body jerked against her, legs gripping him firmly as her hand worked hurriedly against his cock.

“Lana,” a muffled voice called, from outside the door, the furious knocking stopping for a moment, “Ellana!”

“Don’t… stop…” she managed to get out, biting down hard on his shoulder as she climaxed, leaning against him, spent and trembling.

He slowly slid his fingers out of her, flexing his hand to relieve the cramping, and replaced her limp hand with his own as the pounding at the door picked up pace again. She was trying earnestly, and he appreciated it, but her body had turned to jelly. Rather than begrudging it, he felt rather pleased with himself, enjoying the movement of her breasts against him as she breathed heavily.

The hand beating on the door made it difficult to focus but she began lazily licking and biting his neck, and it was too much. Shuddering, he came against her stomach, slumping over so that they were leaning on each other. He needed badly to sit down, but the banging on the door had not stopped, a sign that answering it was probably important. Right now, all he wanted was to take Ellana to bed and fall asleep with her next to him.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” she called, peppering kisses along his collarbone. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Mmm,” was his refusal, tongue heavy in his mouth.

“Mmm, indeed,” she agreed, smiling against his skin, “but you need to get up and I need to get down, and I might need a bit of help, if you can manage. This is kind of an awkward position.”

She chuckled breathily, his brain noting that it was a particularly pleasant sound, as his body swayed halfheartedly.

“Up, up, up,” she insisted, “unless you want whoever that is to see you naked.”

He was not certain he cared at this moment, but some part of his better senses remained yet active enough to be sensible.

“Mmm,” he grumbled, “yeesss.”

“You know,” she purred, “under different circumstances, I quite like you like this.”

He thought for a moment that she should always speak to him that way, even though it would result in his perpetual distraction. At the present moment, it seemed to not be such a terrible idea. Reluctantly, he hauled himself fully to his feet, body and mind both protesting as he shook himself in an effort to aid the process.

“Hold on, I’m getting dressed!” she called, as the knocking started up again.

He rather preferred that she never got dressed. Planting a chaste kiss to her forehead, he picked her up and set her on her chair, collecting their discarded clothes as she moved quickly towards the bathroom to make herself more fit to be seen. He had certainly made the task difficult, and in the future he would aim to be more thoughtful. Normally, he did not care for surprises, but where she was concerned, they were proving to be very enjoyable. He intended to look back on the night without regret, regardless of the future. She came out in a robe, and pushed him onto the bed when he tried to kiss her.

“Behave, you.”

“And if I do not?”

She cast him a withering look, but it melted rather quickly into a bit of a smile. When she turned away, she closed the door behind her, leaving him alone, so she could greet the impatient caller that had so rudely interrupted what he suspected would otherwise have been a very long and pleasant evening.

He found that the walls were insulated fairly well, but it was not long before he could hear their conversation clearly.

“What do you mean arrested?!”

“Some shite about illegal somethin’ or other, tit cops.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get this sorted. Just try not to antagonize anyone, even if you really, really want to.”

“Wot’s that s’posed to mean?”

“It means that I know you and you have a hard time holding your tongue.”

“Wot tongue? Won’t even know I’ve got one!”

“Good. Let me get dressed, maybe fifteen minutes?”

“So, whose face you stickin’ yer tongue in?”

“What?” He heard her clear her throat.

At the shrill giggling, all doubt was removed. He knew who the owner of that voice was, and he cursed being reminded ad nauseam of how small the world was. Of all the people in their shared acquaintance, he wanted emphatically for her to not be numbered among them.

“Took yer time answerin’. Busy with the slap ‘n tickle?”

“That is awful, and he can probably hear you.”

Yes, he could, though he wished very sincerely that he could not.

“In there, yeah? Too scared t’show his face?” She laughed, and he felt ill. “Keep yer bits away from his bits, right? You forget about Widdles, and I’ll pick the lock.”

“Quiet you. Go get a drink and watch some tv.”

“Pfft, wotever.”

He made certain to be out of view when the door opened, in case their uninvited guest was feeling nosy, which he decided was not an unreasonable suspicion.

“You don’t have to hide,” she teased, “Sera can be a bit obnoxious, but she rarely bites.”

“We… are unfortunately acquainted.”

She looked up abruptly from the drawer she’d opened to stare at him and laughed.

“Do I want to know this story?”

“Her partner and I have collaborated professionally.”

“Dagna's just been arrested, that’s why Sera’s here.”

“On what charge?”

“Something hacking related’s all I know.”

“Ah, of course. Let me make a few calls, I am certain I can settle things.”

“That’s sweet, but really, I just have to go to the station.”

“It is the least I can do. My line of work has afforded me many connections that I am happy to make use of.”

“I’ll remember that for the future,” she assured him, pulling a shirt over her head, “but this is really just a little thing.”

“Depending on what she was caught hacking into, the penalty could be quite severe. If it proves worse than you believe, please inform me.”

“I will, now, do I get a goodbye kiss?”

He meant for the kiss to be polite, but the moment their lips met, they got carried away. Their tongues twisted passionately together, and she hummed with pleasure into his mouth. All he wanted was for her to join him in the bed, but a sharp rap at the door brought them painfully back to reality.

“I hear smackin’! No bits, yeah?”

“Yes, Sera, I’m coming.”

“That’s wot I’m worried about!”

She rolled her eyes and leaned in for a small, final kiss.

“Sleep or shower, I shouldn’t be too long. We can pick up where we left off when I get back.”

“I look forward to it.”

He drifted off alone, breathing in her scent on the sheets.

Chapter 10: A Conversation with Cullen

“Good morning,” she greeted, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You are a very heavy sleeper, do you realize it’s almost 11?”

He grumbled in response, wrapping an arm around her to pull her closer.

“No such luck I’m afraid, I’ve got to make breakfast for the hungry guests.”

His eyes opened at that, the too-bright sun making him grimace.

“Guests?”

She laughed.

“Sorry. Dagna and Sera crashed in the spare room last night. I’m sure it’ll all blow over soon, but there are apparently some very angry people, and it’s just safer is she stays here for a while.”

“What of your safety?”

“Me? Oh, I’m fine,” she assured him, smiling, but he did not feel relieved.

“Mmm. And there was no trouble with arranging her release?”

“Only in trying to prevent Sera from getting taken into custody,” she joked.

“Then I am surprised, but relieved.”

“So am I,” she mused. “Still, I know this whole thing has been a bit of a letdown. Do you mind if we rain check?”

A part of him did, but he knew that was unreasonable. The Arcanist had not only been arrested but now feared for her safety, and he was mostly likely to blame for both. That the mess he made should fall in his path was only fitting, and the bitter irony was not lost on him.

“I do not.”

“Good. Now, onto the important question, do you like blueberry pancakes?”

“I do.”

He smiled at her, small but earnest. She laced their fingers together, planting a chaste kiss on the back of his hand and looked at him so softly that it made his heart sting.

“So you and Sera do have something in common,” she teased, ruining the moment and prompting him to groan.

When he protested her getting up, she nuzzled his face a moment before climbing down from the bed. Circumstances had left him in a rather disagreeable position, but good manners dictated he get up and try to be of use. He resigned himself to the surety of his day being ruined by what waited for him on the other side of the door. Singularly unpleasant interactions aside, he could not hide forever.

Dagna was sitting at the table, focus drawn to the laptop in front of her; fingers moving across the keyboard at breakneck speed. Sera was giggling in that shrill way she did, seated on one of the counters and swinging her foot back and forth. She did not appear to be doing any actual helping, which he found unsurprising.

“Small world, isn’t it!” The dwarf beamed up at him, still tapping on the keys.

“Yes,” he agreed, not adding that he thought it was far too small for his comfort.

“Oi, elfy!” Sera called at him, her leg stilling, “so you’re the one bumping bits with Inky.”

His body tensed uncomfortably at the sound of her voice, but the tinge of pink at the tips of Ellana’s ears made him smile inwardly.

“If you want to eat, Sera, you’ll behave yourself,” Ellana warned her.

“Fiiiiine,” she relented, pouting.

“Inky?” he asked, eyebrow cocked and not certain he wanted an explanation.

“On account of she’s like a fish person, yeah?”

His first assumption was correct, he should not have asked.

“You know, the swimmy things, with all the legs,” she explained, waving one of her hands in the air.

“I was hoping I could be of some assistance,” he explained to Ellana, changing the subject.

“That’s sweet, but there really isn’t much to do. Mmm,” she bit her lip, thinking, “You could set the table if you want, would prevent this lot from spilling syrup on everything.”

“Of course,” he agreed, inclining his head.

“Leave some sticky stuff behind one time, and never hear the end of it!” Sera joked, giggling heartily at her own lewd joke.

He sighed irritably, wondering if he should not perhaps skip breakfast.

“And that is exactly why you have to eat at the table and aren’t allowed to touch the remote without washing your hands!”

Sera’s response, of course, was to stick out her tongue.

“Don’t mind her,” Dagna urged him, smiling warmly.

“I’ll try not to,” he assured her, knowing that it was impossible.

He tried to maintain his politeness through breakfast, but a certain reprobate made it nearly impossible. At one point she actually kicked him under the table! Even so, the warmth of Ellana’s smile when she looked at him made putting up with it all worthwhile. Of course, no one could be expected to handle anything more than small, sporadic doses of Sera. He hoped.

He insisted on helping to clean up, but was tasked only with drying the dishes. It felt oddly comfortable, this act of domesticity, and he looked forward to engaging in such things together in the future. Solas had been alone for quite a long time, and never before had he truly experienced feelings such as Ellana inspired in him.

They kissed briefly in the hall as he left, and he realized what he felt was happiness. It was a somewhat daunting thing to acknowledge, knowing that such things rarely endure the passing of time. Everything being impermanent, their tryst would eventually end. Despite that, he could not turn away, and would take the comfort he could while it lasted.

-----

Solas was not yet certain how he felt about law enforcement being involved. No doubt they would stick their noses in the way, and potentially undermine his entire investigation. Signs of police activity tended to make suspects more careful, which presented a problem. In this instance, however, he would concede that outside assistance might be necessary.

Twofold reasons brought him to Vallamar this evening. The first was that Cullen had asked to meet to discuss the case. The other reason, of course, was to enquire about Dagna and to ascertain the surety of her continued freedom. With the Arcanist indisposed, and his having no viable leads at present, this seemed to be his best and only option. The constraints involved in cooperating with the police, and the hassle of legal red tape meant that he was less than thrilled about the situation. Still, he would need more breadcrumbs if he was to follow the trail.

“How did you get mixed up in this, Solas?”

“A simple matter of tracking stolen funds, nothing more.”

The Sergeant rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, shaking his head.

“Of course it would happen to you. We’d been praying for a break in this case for years and you just stumble into it.”

“A convenient coincidence.”

“I know better than to believe you’ll tell me everything, but fine, I still need your help.”

“I’m listening.”

“Arbor Wild, your family owns it.”

Evanuris International had its hands in many pies. Why should one of his family’s countless holdings be of concern to him? He certainly was not involved in their businesses, aside from the occasional freelance work when he was subcontracted for his skills. Why should they not hire him? He is widely considered the best in his field, after all, and to refuse would scarcely make sense.

“Arbor Wild…?” he asked, uncertain a moment before the pieces clicked into place. “Ah, you refer to Morrigan’s nightclub venture?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Some people suspect it might be a front for lyrium smuggling.”

“Indeed?”

A most unfortunate development, excepting how much it would chagrin his cousin. He could practically hear Mythal’s reprobation already. Of course he would assist, it being the right thing to do. He would derive no pleasure from watching Morrigan eat crow, that would be petty and beneath him. The possibility of such a thing did highlight a rather profound carelessness on her part, however, and he would be remiss in not pointing it out.

“That is what I’ve heard at least. We haven’t wanted to move in yet, to avoid alerting those responsible.”

“I see. So that is the crux of it then? You wish for me to make contact for you.”

“Is there any way you won’t be smug about this?”

“It is possible, but unlikely. You will, of course, remember my assistance in the future?”

The Sergeant bristled, very nearly rolling his eyes.

“If you help put an end to this red lyrium business, I don’t care how many favors you call in.”

“Then I am at your disposal.”

“Thank you, Solas.”

“It is my civic duty after all.”

“Yeah, you’re just a concerned citizen.”

The look the human leveled at him caused the corners of his own mouth to very nearly quirk upwards, but that would have been unprofessional.

“Now, regarding that other matter I mentioned.”

“About the hacker’s arrest?”

“Yes, the Arcanist , as she’s known.”

“Here’s the strange thing, the files have been deleted from our computers. All the records have completely disappeared.”

“I see.”

“Her release was arranged by an ex-Inquisitor, but I don’t know if that has anything to do with it. After the charges were dropped, what point would there be in getting rid of the files?”

“An Inquisitor?”

That was… surprising.

“Yeah, pretty high in their ranks at one time apparently, and still very well connected. Even without technically holding any authority, coming in and vouching for this Arcanist was considered enough.”

There was a sudden tension forming in his stomach. For a man so used to holding all the cards, it seemed he knew very little. It was true that he had not known Ellana for long, but this news was nothing short of astonishing.

Curious indeed that a Dalish elf and a former Andrastian agent should become acquainted well enough to trade favors. How silly she must have thought it, his offer of help, when she had her own network to call upon. He was certainly right in thinking she’d do very well in the corporate sector, and if not for knowing her, he’d have thought it a shame to let such skill and resources go to waste.

“Do you think the hacker removed her own files?”

“No, I don’t. The actual paper copies vanished along with the digital ones. Everything is gone. Whoever she was looking into? I think they have a mole within the Templar Order.”

“A grave allegation. Have you any proof?”

“Right now I only have a hunch. I was, uh, hoping you’d help me with that.”

“Do you trust no one in your own department?”

“Aveline, of course, but she can’t help with this. She’s not exactly… subtle, you know?”

He sighed, shaking his head, not feeling the least bit put out but still making a show of it. It was a shame the Sergeant had not yet realized he found this all enjoyable.

“I suppose I would be amenable to that.”

“You just can’t ever make it easy, can you?”

“I suppose I could.”

“But of course, you won’t.”

The small smile he offered was returned with a head shake.

“Goodnight, Commander.”

“It’s not likely, but thank you.”

-----

The first thing Solas did when he got home was brew some tea. For the length of the drive, his mind raced with all that he did not know, and it left him feeling rather tense. A growing need to remedy the situation brought him to his computer, typing Ellana’s name in the search box.

At first, he found next to nothing, which was a little surprising and left him even more discomfited. Further searches pulled up financial records for the company she performed under, but no employment history otherwise. He found the lease agreement and utility records for her apartment, but for no previous residences. Her name showed up in relation to several charities and events, but very little else.

Next, he searched for her alias, but there seemed to be nothing more solid than what he’d already found. Pictures from performances, and articles about her paid and volunteer work were not quite what he was looking for. What he sought specifically, he was not sure, but there had to be something, anything, more than this .

In the digital age, wherein every aspect of a person’s life existed on the internet, a lack of discernible paper trail was highly suspicious. He wanted to trust her; to give her the benefit of the doubt, but alarm bells were sounding in his head. And, if she was indeed hiding something, asking her outright would only make it harder to find the truth.

Besides, had she not been evasive when they discussed Dagna’s arrest and subsequent release? Normally his perception was better this, what was it that made him ignore the blaring warning signs? Yes, she was beautiful, and her mind sharp, but was it the mystery that had most attracted him? The more he considered it, the less and less things seemed to add up. He could not; would not walk away now, but his growing feelings needed to be tempered, at least until he could put the pieces together.

[unicornforcewinds]

WAM Chapters 7 & 8

The Wolf and the Mermaid: Solas is a forensic financial investigator, and Lavellan is a mermaid performer with a mysterious past. Fluff, Smut, Angst, and lots of Drama. Solas POV.

Chapters 1 & 2.   Chapters 3 & 4.    Chapters 5 & 6.   Fic on AO3.

Chapter 7: Coffee With Ellana

Solas arrived precisely ten minutes before eleven, and had timed it just so, watching the clock in the kitchen for no less than half an hour. Normally, he was so sure of himself, but in this he felt nervous and uncomfortable. It was not that he lacked self-esteem; rather, he would declare his opinion of himself to be realistic. Ellana was beautiful and younger, and he was… not a terribly desirable prospect in his own estimation. Still, she had displayed clear signs of interest on her part, though he could not say if that had changed.

The tangled pit in his stomach knotted tighter and tighter as he approached the café and, hesitating only briefly, went inside. He ordered a white chocolate cappuccino and sat by the window, and she arrived before his order had even been called. Standing up when he saw her, she gave him a small, uncertain smile and a little wave, and went to the counter to place her order.

“Ellana, I…” he fumbled with what to say once she sat across the table from him, his thoughts suddenly too messy to sort through.

“Hi, Solas,” she said softly, gentle gaze meeting his. It was too easy to get lost in those eyes.

“… Thank you for being here,” he offered, voice uncharacteristically meek.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she jibed mildly. It wasn’t as playful as she’d been previously, but it was a good start.

“Yet? Should I later on?” It was a tease; it was always so easy to toss playful banter back and forth with her, but there was still worry there when he talked - a fear that he would act wrongly.

She smiled, shaking her head, and the barista called out their orders. He offered to grab them both and she nodded.

“What kind of drink is this?” he asked, breathing in the aroma of the steam coming off her cup.

“It’s a matcha tea latte.” she informed him, taking the cup, fingers brushing for the briefest of moments. It made him tingle as ridiculous as that was. “Would you like to taste it?”

“No,” he declared resolutely, grimacing on reflex. “I do not care for tea.”

“Blasphemy!” she teased him, hand covering her mouth in mock-horror. “Have you ever tried one of these though, it’s not like drinking a cup of plain tea.”

“I have not, no, and I do not plan to.”

“Fine, suit yourself, but you don’t know what you’re missing!” Her smile was more playful now, taking a sip of the hot beverage and humming her approval.

His heart stalled in his chest; he wanted to hear all the sounds she made… but he was getting ahead of himself again, and he needed to relax.  It was, of course, impossible to do so when he was so close to her; so close to her lips. He had no right to think of them now of course, not with the way they left things, but he wanted to taste them still, even if they would be flavored with tea.

“What?” she looked at him questioningly, wiping some foam from her mouth.

“I… it is nothing. Sorry.” He shook his head, hesitating.

“So you’ve said, a few times I believe,” her smile was smaller now, but not gone completely.

“I fear I am not very good at this,” he admitted, eyes locking with hers.

“Yes, I noticed that,” she admonished, eyebrows rising and then falling.

“Mm,” he offered, inclining his head slightly, no words feeling apropos.

“So, is this the part where we start discussing things seriously?”

He let out a small sigh. “An inevitability probably not worth delaying,” he was resigned. She moved her mouth from side to side and fidgeted with her cup before clearing her throat.

“I like you Solas, which I’m sure you’ve noticed.” He needn’t hear the stipulation to know it was there.

“And I you, perhaps too much,” he admitted, a little bit wistful.

She gave him a strained smile, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

“I want to give you a real chance, but I’m worried that you’ll get weird and let me down.” Her smile had gone completely now, and there was not a trace of one on his face, either.

“I understand.” The words were simple, emotionless, but the act of saying them made him feel cut open.

“You’re doing it already. You have to stop. Things are going to happen, Solas, awkward and uncomfortable situations, and you have to be able to get through them.”

What? That was not what he expected; he was dumbstruck.

“What happened at Varric’s should’ve been something to laugh about. Instead, it was extremely uncomfortable, and there was nothing I could say. You wouldn’t even look at me.”

He was eviscerated, a sharp strike to his gut delivered with surgical precision. What could he say? There was no defense; he was guilty on all charges.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Do you? Right now you look like you’re just going to give up. I can move past this, I just need to know that you can…”

He looked back into her eyes, so soft and inviting. Guilt was coursing through him; blame and unworthiness coiling around his heart. But, he wanted this – wanted her, and here she was willing to accept him. How could she possibly think he deserved this? Still, he could not; would not waste this chance.

“I would like to try, if you will have me.”

“Maybe later, I’d like to finish my drink first,” she teased, winking. He coughed, face suddenly feeling very hot.

“Mmm,” she murmured, “I do like seeing you flustered.” Her head was tilted down, looking up at him through long lashes, feline smirk on her face. It sent a throbbing pulse through his body.

“I,” he cleared his throat, “Perhaps –“

He was cut off by the chirruping of a text notification on his burner phone, which meant news from the Arcanist .

“You can check that if you need to, I don’t mind.” She smiled at him, eyes slightly less mischievous.

“It is work; so it is probably important.”

“Go ahead,” she nodded, sipping her drink.

Arcanist 11:27 have sum info 4 u c u @ noon?

He frowned reflexively at the text speak, supposing that was par for the course at this point. Noon was only half an hour from now however, and he was with Ellana. He could not just leave, even if it was important…

“Something wrong?” she asked, eyes once again soft.

“Not precisely… I have been waiting for some information on a case, and an associate just contacted me asking if I could meet with them.”

“When?”

“That is the problem, they wish to meet now.”

She chuckled.

“I wouldn’t consider it flaking on me if you had to leave because of work,” she chided, poking him in the chest. “I would do the same.”

“You are certain you do not mind?”

“Not at all,” she promised, smiling, handing him her phone.

“I don’t have your number,” she explained at his puzzled look.

He shook his head, thoughtless , and entered in the number after he handed her his regular cell.

“Two phones, huh?” she asked, brow quirking.

“Sometimes my work requires such caution.”

“Very mysterious,” she teased, eyes widening playfully. “But, I suppose that’s something to get into later. I hope your meeting goes well.”

Her smile made him feel on fire.

“Thank you,” he offered obligingly, inclining his head and rising to his feet.

“Any time,” she winked.

He made to leave for the door regretfully, not wanting to extricate himself from her presence, but her hand was suddenly gripping his forearm, stopping him, smiling in that painfully enticing way she was wont to do. The simple touch was electric and his pulse raced in response. She made a ‘come-hither’ motion with her other hand and his eyes went wide. Obligingly, he leaned forward, and she guided him into a kiss with a hand on the back of his neck.

It was chaste compared to the kiss at Varric’s, but he melted into it, her lips soft and warm; welcoming. Before he knew what was happening he was bent over with his hands around her waist, laughter snapping him out of his reverie. They were in public, sitting in a café full of people; this was not the place.

He cleared his throat, offering a sheepish smile and a nod before leaving. This time, she let him, and he felt simultaneously grateful and disappointed. Work. He needed to leave for work… This was much more important than having her lips locked with his and her body pressed against him… He shook his head chastisingly. There would be time for that later, regardless of how eager he was now.

-----

Making sure to avoid the particularly unpleasant waitress, Solas walked inside and headed to the table where the dwarven hacker was seated. Beside her there was a human male whose sallow complexion and sunken eyes betrayed his illness.

“Solas!” The dwarf greeted him cheerfully, “glad you could make it!”

“Arcanist,” he nodded, pulling out a chair to join them.

“Oh, you can just call me Dagna! That’s my name anyway, and my friend here is Felix.”

“Hello,” offered Felix.

“Greetings.”

“I bet you’re wondering why I asked you here!” posited Dagna.

“It had crossed my mind.”

“Well, you gave me the name of Gereon Alexius and since he was really the only lead we have, I decided to start there. Felix is Gereon’s son,” she explained.

His eyes brightened, recollecting the text from Leliana – Gereon’s wife was deceased and his son was sick.

“You are Gereon’s son.” Solas reiterated, gears in his mind clicking into place and spinning excitedly.

“Yes.”

“Go ahead and tell him what you told me, Felix.” Dagna instructed, excusing herself so they could speak privately.

“Ahem,” Felix cleared his throat, “my father is working with the Venatori because he hopes they’ll be able to save me. I’m sick and he’s desperate for a miracle. I don’t know the name of their leader, but I do know their goal is to… bring about a new order and end the world as we know it. As terrifying a conspiracy as ever there was one.”

“End the world?” he asked rhetorically, unbelieving despite knowing the truth of the admission.

“Yes. They are a sort of doomsday cult, only with real power and influence.”

“But you do not know who is leading them?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, and outside of my father, the only name I have is Raleigh Samson. Unfortunately, I have been kept in the dark and haven’t been able to learn much.”

“No, your actions here are commendable. Many would do differently in your situation.”

“Thank you, but I still wish I could offer something  more concrete.”

“You may very well be instrumental in catching them, and that is quite a lot.”

“Tha-“ he was cut off abruptly by a coughing fit.

“Can I get you something?” Solas asked, hoping to provide some small comfort.

“No,” he choked out, “I am fine.”

Dagna returned to them then, sitting down and putting a hand on Felix’s shoulder; rubbing in small circles.

“You did good kid, now let’s get you out of here so you can rest,” she instructed.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” he agreed weakly, slowly rising to his feet with her assistance.

Solas took his leave as well, offering them a polite bow before exiting.

The trip home was exhilarating, a mixture of anticipation and excitement vibrating through him. Today had been a very good day indeed, between Ellana and Felix. Perhaps his terrible luck was turning around, but he shouldn’t worry about such things. Fate was a thing for people who were unable to act on their own, and he certainly did not have that problem… even if he did perhaps struggle when it came to Ellana. That was, however, neither here nor there.

-----

When he got home, he immediately began to research Samson, though he was sure Dagna would do the same. Even if he was not an especially talented hacker, he was not altogether without skill. What he could find was limited, admittedly, though he gleaned that the man had a military record and had been dishonorably discharged.

Having connections with the military, and especially ex-military, Solas was sure he’d be able to learn more about the specifics. If Anders could not personally help, he could at least point him in the right direction. Finally, he had a new thread to tug, and soon enough, he was sure the whole tapestry would come unraveled. All that was necessary was to put the pieces together one by one.

When his phone went off and interrupted his work, he was momentarily annoyed, but he couldn’t help smiling at seeing the  message was from Ellana. The timing might have been terrible, and the whole thing foolishly imprudent, but she inspired in him a feeling he could not and did not wish to escape.

Ellana 6:52 are you busy next week?

Solas 6:53 I am not entirely certain, why?

Ellana 6:56 i want to see you, obv. weekend busy, but avail during week. wed?

Solas 6:57 I should be available in the evening.

Ellana 6:57 good. my place?

He choked, reaching up to loosen his tie, tips of his ears burning. The implications of that… was she merely inviting him over casually or did she have other intentions? So badly he wanted more, and yet they should take things slow, should they not? He would go with no expectations; instead merely observing her behavior and let her make the first move if there was to be one.

But, what if she wanted him to act, to prove his interest? Personal relationships, not that this was a relationship exactly… but there was so much complication and uncertainty. It was not as though he was inexperienced at sex, quite the opposite, but it had been a long time, and he never imagined he would be so wholly taken by someone. His life was his work, and these were unfamiliar waters where he only hoped he would not drown.

Ellana 7:12 its ok if you want to say no.

Solas 7:12 Yes.

Ellana 7:13 slow response. busy or unsure?

Solas 7:14 Apologies. I am quite certain.

Ellana 7:16 then it’s a date ;)

That night, he slept better than he had in years.

Chapter 8: A Trip to the Tranquil Ward

Attempts to locate Samson had not proven terribly fruitful. Solas now knew that the former Templar struggled with lyrium addiction and had been dishonorably discharged, but in itself, the information was nothing more than breadcrumbs. He hoped, as he sat across the desk from the human physician, that more pieces of the puzzle would reveal themselves.

“We’re talking about Ellana,” Anders informed him, face set.

“No, we are not.”

“Leverage, in the form of information, says we are.”

Solas sighed, steepling his fingers and leaning back in the chair. Everything became more and more complicated as he grew more involved with her, and now his personal and professional lives were becoming uncomfortably intertwined. A terrible idea, the entirety of it, but the mere thought of her affected him too strongly for any hope of pulling away now.

“Ahem,” Anders began, clearing his throat.

Solas simply looked at him.

“Listen, Ellana, she,” the human paused momentarily to sigh, “just don’t mess things up.”

“Understood.”

“Is it though?” he asked, using his palms to push up from the desk and stalking toward the window before continuing.

“You know that she’s Dalish?” he asked, turning his head away from the window.

“Yes.”

“And how is that supposed to work?”

“Why should it not?”

“I thought you hated the dalish.”

“Hate is a strong word, besides, we have not discussed it.”

“You need to.”

“Perhaps.”

“Andraste’s knickers, Solas,” Anders huffed out a sigh, walked to the filing cabinet, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a brown folio. “Here’s all the information I have.”

He stood to accept the folder from the arm extended towards him, bowed his head, and turned to leave.

“Be careful.”

“I will,” he replied without looking back.

“I mean about Ellana.”

“I know.”

-----

The slightly dilapidated government building was made of unassuming brown brick, and possessed an inherent air of misery. This was not a place that received many visitors; with good reason. Its every feature existed for function alone, and only barely achieved its purpose. He parked his car, walked along the cracking concrete sidewalk to the double doors of the main entrance, with reception directly ahead.

“In which direction is the Tranquil Ward?”

The blonde, freckled woman at the desk looked up from her computer agitatedly.

“Down that hallway,” she pointed, “take the first right, the second left, go right, and it’s just ahead.”

“Thank you,” he offered, inclining his head.

“Mm,” was the extent of her response, her focus already back to whatever she’d been doing before she was interrupted.

He began down the corridor, following her instructions, and eventually found his desired destination. Next to the shabby wooden door was a placard, made of beige plastic, inscribed with the words Tranquil Wing, in the most nondescript font possible. Those that resided in this place, he supposed, would not care very much one way or another.

It was, what he imagined, the cruelest fate someone could face. To have your will stripped away, your personality, your hopes - your sense of humor… to be deprived of everything that makes you who you are; that makes you a person.

They called it the “Rite of Tranquility” which was a rather polite name for a barbaric and archaic practice that should have been outlawed generations ago. Did it assuage the guilt of those involved or prevent them from feeling uncomfortable with their actions to not simply refer to it as what it was – forced lobotomization?

He did not know the specifics of what this Maddox had done, but he doubted very much that it warranted such a sentence; to Solas, death was a merciful and kinder alternative. Corpses, of course, cannot be made to work, and valuable indeed is a worker that does not complain or care for the conditions or treatment they face. His lips curled reflexively into a frown as he reached for the handle, but his face was a mask of calm before the door was open.

He found himself in an informal sort of communal room, with various mismatched chairs and couches most likely obtained secondhand. The walls were sporadically adorned with frames, the contents of which would be a stretch to call art; an attempt he could only assume was designed to ease the feelings of the decorator. The room bore only a single occupant - a person he logically deduced was a sort of janitor, owing to the mop in their hand and the coveralls they wore.

“Pardon me,” he called to them.

As the person turned around, his gaze met a pair of empty eyes, housed in a face more placid than even his own. This human man, probably in his thirties, was unmistakably Tranquil, even without the sun symbol indelibly marking his forehead.

“What can I do for you sir?” he asked, voice perfectly even.

If not for the words, no one might’ve known it was even a question, and Solas pitied him immediately.

“I am looking for Maddox, I believe he resides here.”

“He should be upstairs.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

It filled him with sorrow to hear words coming from the body of what was once a man, but had been reduced to a mere shell, a being that was alive but did not live. He prided himself on his ability to appear impassive, and as useful a tool as it was, to be bereft of passion, even if hidden… it made his chest tighten.

He followed the stairs up to a hallway, with a door on either end, each leading to large rooms filled with white sheeted beds, dormitories, it appeared. There were shelves with clean linens and pillows, and a clock on the wall, but everything was otherwise empty. No bookshelves or photographs or plants – any indication that people lived here, instead of just occupying the space.

There were mostly humans, and a few elves, but no qunari or dwarves; since they still maintained their own societies for the most part, he assumed. Though, he reminded himself, the qunari had their own methods for dealing with dissenters. Re-education, he believed they called it; and what a more pleasant ring it held than brainwashing.

“Can I help you sir?” asked a boy, not older than 20.

For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, and felt his jaw clench before relaxing.

“I seek Maddox.”

“He is here at this time every day, but not today.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No, I do not. Apologies, sir.”

“Thank you,” Solas offered by rote, turning to leave.

“You are welcome.”

It was disappointing, but returning in a day or two would have been only a minor inconvenience, and besides, he had remarkable patience. Before leaving, he decided a quick detour to the washroom was prudent, but he was not expected the surprise that awaited him inside.

He rushed over to the Chantry-marked man slumped against the bathroom wall, a needle protruding from his inner elbow.

“I need an ambulance immediately!” Solas demanded into his phone, at the emergency operator.

“What is your location sir?”

“Tranquil dormitories, bathroom, tell Cullen it’s the Wolf.”

“That would be a waste of time,” a calm voice informed him as he knelt to the side of the man and placed a hand to his forehead.

“What have you done?” he asked, placing the phone back into his pocket.

“I injected a large amount of red lyrium. It won’t be long now.”

“Red lyrium?” he asked, voce heightened, things clicking in his head, “Does this have to do with Samson?”

“He saved me even before he needed me,” Maddox’s voice was weak.

“Why have you done this?”

“My death gives him a… chance to escape. I... wanted to… help.”

“You wanted ?” he asked, but there was nothing left now, regardless of whatever had remained.

With a hand, Solas closed his eyes and then he stayed there, kneeling next to the dead man, who had, in truth, been killed long ago. There was nothing to be done except to wait for the paramedics, whose only function now was to haul away the body. So many thoughts swirled around his head, most of them questions whose answers he had no hope of finding.

What Maddox had done and said, both of wanting and of being saved by Samson, and of red lyrium. How a designer street drug could possibly figure into all this, he did not know, but this case became more complicated and more interesting by the minute. He took no pleasure in the suffering or death of anyone, to be sure, but before him lay a puzzle begging to be solved.

The paramedics, flanked by Cullen, burst through the doors and took stock of the situation. Once they realized the state of things, it became a crime scene, with the Tranquil corpse a mere piece of evidence.

“Solas, what happened here?” the Sergeant asked him earnestly.

“He appears to have overdosed on red lyrium.”

“Red lyrium!” his voice began loud but lowered to a shouted whisper, “and what were you doing here?”

“Following a lead.”

“Isn’t that out of your job description?”

“Not precisely.”

Cullen splayed his hand across his face, shoulders slumping as he leaned against the wall.

“You’d better get out of here before the rest of the team gets here.”

“Thank you for your discretion, Commander.”

“Yeah yeah, and don’t think for a moment I expect less your full cooperation.”

“Of course,” he assured, nodding and walking away.

He followed down another hallway as he heard footsteps fast approaching, and hid from view behind the corner of a wall, waiting until everyone appeared to have gone before proceeding to the exit. When finally he’d made his way to the doors, the woman at the front desk had gone. Promptly, but without enough haste to cause suspicion, he returned to his car. Once he was certain that no one was following him, he drove home.

With the door closed behind him, he released a deep breath before hanging up his coat, the tension built up over the day finally releasing. So close he had come, and yet so far it felt he still needed to go. Things would become more difficult of course, now that the police were embroiled in the impressively tangled web this case has proven to be.

With Cullen as the lead, which he’d all but ensured with the phone call, it might at least prove to be somewhat less of a problem. The Sergeant was more reasonable than many of his colleagues, which made the turn of events much less unfavorable.

-----

“You were going to tell me exactly how you’re involved in all this,” Cullen reminded him.

“I was,” he agreed, taking a sip of his drink and regretting it immediately.

Vallamar was a useful place for clandestine meetings – the patrons were, on the whole, a disaffected lot too preoccupied with their own misery to take much notice of anyone else. The fact that his human companion even looked like a cop doubly ensured that everyone would be keeping their distance.  Even so, the unpalatable alcohol and smoke-laden air made him question the choice of venue.

Cullen shook his head, “You know, I’m not sure I even want to know, but just tell me anyway.”

Solas offered a small, knowing smile as he began to explain the particulars of the case, and what had lead him to stumbling upon the dying Tranquil.

“Maker,” the officer breathed out, a hand splayed across his face, “The implications are…”

“Dire,” Solas offered, when he didn’t finish.

“To say the least,” he affirmed, hand dropping to reach for his glass of seltzer, taking several large gulps. “This is where I’m obligated to tell you to let it go and leave it to the professionals, but we both know that’s not going to happen. I assume you intend to follow this through until the end?”

“That was my plan.”

“Dammit, Solas.” He heaved out a sigh, shaking his head again, “Just be careful.”

“I always am.”

Cullen let out a mirthless chuckle at that.

“We both know that’s not entirely true.”

[unicornforcewinds]

WAM Chapters 5 & 6

The Wolf and the Mermaid: Solas is a forensic financial investigator, and Lavellan is a mermaid performer with a mysterious past. Fluff, Smut, Angst, and lots of Drama. Solas POV.

Chapters 1 & 2.    Chapters 3&4.    Fic on AO3.

Chapter 5: Dinner at Varric’s

Leliana 6:43 I have time later tonight if you want to arrange a meet?

Solas 6:44 Dinner should be concluded before ten.

Leliana 6:47 Then we’ll say 10:30? Sounds like a plan. Try to have a good time! (◠‿◠✿)

Solas 6:50 I really wish you would not do that.

Leliana 6:51 >‿‿◕

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. She’d been doing this, every time they texted, an adult woman. What had he done to deserve this? He wondered if perhaps he had done something terrible in a previous life and was paying for it now, genocide perhaps? It wasn’t the sort of thing he believed in, but it seemed the only plausible explanation. In his current mood, going to Varric’s was the last thing he wanted to do.

Varric was an author whose family connections bordered on notorious. He insisted on giving everyone nicknames, with or without their consent. Solas had, of course, been of the latter group. Recently, Varric and Cassandra had bought a loft and moved in together, which made no sense to him because they were constantly fighting. Honestly, he wasn’t sure that they even liked each other. When they got into one of their not so little arguments, it made being in their company incredibly uncomfortable. He questioned his own sanity as he drove. Why was everyone he knew so keen on forcing him into things he didn’t want to do, and why did he let them?

The elevator ride felt like limbo, him standing there with his bottle of wine, waiting to enter the gates of hell. He really hoped this would be one of their good days, or that at least they’d have the decency to rein themselves in for company. It was not a realistic hope, but he was clinging to it for dear life, hesitating momentarily before giving the door a gentle rap.

“Be right there!” He heard Varric call distantly, the lock clicking and door opening shortly after.

“Hellooo, Chuckles!” Varric greeted, standing aside to let him through. “We had a pot going for whether or not you’d show up. Looks like I just won fifty silver.”

Solas looked at him, unamused, which just made him laugh. “Everyone’s already here, except for Blondie, so I guess we can eat! He’s always late anyway.”

Solas said nothing, following him into the dining room. Three people were sitting at the table, Cassandra, at one end, and two people with their backs to him. One, a woman, he recognized as Josephine, and the man, her new paramour. As he rounded the corner, he recognized him as Ellana's handler from the garden party. It was like she was haunting him, the next worse thing to her being here herself! He trained his features and took a seat.

“Solas,” Cassandra greeted him plainly, offering a nod.

“Oh hello Solas, it’s so nice to see you,” Josephine mused happily, “let me introduce you to Blackwall.” She inclined her head in the burly man’s direction.

“I recognize you from the party, you were sharing words with a friend of mine,” his voice a little bristly.

Solas just looked at him, reproachfully.

“Oh of course, I had forgotten you were there,” Josephine interjected, attempting placation.

“You remember, Josie, Solas is looking into The Group’s problems.”

“Yes, of course. Tell me, how is the search going so far?”

“It’s a complicated case, but I’m currently investigated a promising lead that I hope will pan out.”

“You have a suspect?!” Cassandra burst out, obviously upset. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Merely a lead Cassandra, there is nothing concrete. It would be irresponsible to inform you of anything without some kind of evidence.”

“You are right, of course,” she heaved a sigh, “I just want to see this business concluded as soon as possible."

“What are we talking about?” Varric asked, coming into the dining room hauling a tray piled with serving dishes. At least he’d be eating better than at that unfortunate lunch with Dorian.

“Unfortunately nothing,” sighed Cassandra hopelessly, “I worry that I should be doing more, but what can I do? I am not clairvoyant.”

Varric set down the tray in the center of the table and walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Cass, Solas is the best damned financial investigator in Orlais, and as soon as he finds the thread he needs, he’ll unravel the whole mess.” She smiled at him, looking a little sad, and they kissed softly. It was actually sweet - they must be having a very good day.

About ten minutes into dinner, there was a knock on the door, Anders he assumed.

“Let yourself in,” Varric called, the sound of the door being opened followed a minute later. “We’re in here, Blondie, you’re not as late as you usually are.”

“I picked up a stray on my way here, I hope you don’t mind.”

“You are not bringing any animals into my house, not after that mess with Leliana and that blasted nug. Animals are for eating, Anders. Unless you plan to put it in the oven…”

“Oh hush, Varric,” Cassandra chided.

“I’m not cleaning it up if it goes on the floor.”

And there was that hint of the ever-present bickering.

“Don’t worry,” a soft voice offered, “I’m litter trained.”

“Flipper, is that you?” Varric called.

“What, you thought I’d let her skip out on us?” asked Anders.

“Hey, I will not be tag-teamed tonight. You’re supposed to be proud, not admonishing.”

Why did that voice sound familiar?

Anders finally made it into the dining room, trailed by a woman in a wheelchair. Her hair… her skin... It was… This was impossible!  It was Ellana… Had she injured herself?

“If you came around more often, we wouldn’t have to make up for lost time,” Varric teased.

Suddenly Solas was standing up, how had that happened? Everyone was looking at him, including her, shock spreading across her face.

“You alright Chuckles?” He said nothing.

“Hello, Solas.”

“Hello.”

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes.”

“Well he’s certainly feeling talkative tonight,” Anders jeered.

“I guess I won’t need to introduce you after all,” Varric quipped, raising an eyebrow. “Go on and park her next to me, Flipper.

“Best seat in the house,” she teased, winking.

Without the contacts, her eyes were bright, shining, and exquisite. It took him a moment before regaining the ability to speak, and by that point, everyone had given up and opted to ignore him. He had noticed Anders and Blackwall exchanging a significant look when Anders went to sit down, and then the way he repeated his name after Josephine introduced them. There was something there, but he was far too distracted to piece it together. The only thing his mind was capable of, was thinking about her.

“Are you injured?” he asked, concerned.

She opened her mouth and closed it again, turning her head to the side and looking rueful. “No, I’m not injured.”

“Don’t worry Chuckles,” Varric interrupted, “Flipper here’s not injured, she’s just a cripple.”

“Varric!” Cassandra hissed.

“What?” he replied.

This was going to escalate.

“Don’t be so rude!”

“I’m not being rude, she is! That’s like saying it’s rude for someone to call me short or you angry.”

Was that last part truly necessary?

“Don’t worry Cass," Elanna laughed, "It doesn't bother me at all.”

“I am not angry!” Cassandra was near shouting now.

“Could’ve fooled me!” he yelled back.

“I didn’t mean right now, Varric! Don’t try to twist my words.”

“You just yelled that you aren’t angry. How am I twisting anything?”

Everyone was officially uncomfortable, but now the fighting was barely even registering in his brain. She was here , she knew his friends, the world was an incredibly small place, and she was actually here. Why did she hide her eyes with those contacts? He could not imagine ever tiring of the sight.

“I think perhaps we should leave,” Josephine suggested quietly, surreptitiously rising out of her chair, Blackwall following close behind.

“You know what I mean, but you’re acting like I said something else!” Cassandra hollered.

“I’m coming with you,” Anders responded in a loud whisper. “See you later, Ell.”

“Bye,” she replied, softly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He had thought Varric a better liar than that.

“Thanks for having us Cass, Varric, have a good night!” Josie called on her way out the door.

“Why must you always do this?” Cassandra’s voice getting a little quieter, here.

“What am I doing?”

Solas shook his head. They were ridiculous.

“That, right there! I need to get some air.”

“Wait, you can’t leave, you live here!”

Cassandra was heading for the door with Varric tailing her. They were a matched pair, and it was a terrible thing.

“Do you want to talk?” she asked.

“Yes.”

They went in the living room, and she positioned herself across from him when he sat on the couch. She was so beautiful.

“I’m not certain I like your shoes,” he said. She laughed, bringing her foot up closer for him to see.

“Then I withdraw my praising of your taste.”

The aforementioned footwear was lavender with a large black bow.

“Are those… lambs?”

She laughed. “Yes. Don’t judge me! I like silly shoes, sometimes.”

“And what about other times?” Did he just say that? Her eyes went wide, eyebrows raising. “ Ir abelas , sorry, I did not mean that.”

“Hmmmm,” she murmured, “ Samelava palasha braan .”

He swallowed, the room feeling very hot all the sudden. Her lips looked so inviting… No, he needed to be respectful, think about something else…

“You speak elven?”

“It goes with being Dalish. We’re taught it as children.”

She sounded a little proud, that was disappointing on a number of levels.

“Oh, you are Dalish.” His echoed, voice a bit resigned.

“Do you have a problem with the Dalish?”

“They are superstitious children clinging to myths and legends they know nothing about.” Why was it impossible for him to bite his tongue? It was the truth, but he did not wish to wound her with his tongue…

“Maybe that’s true, but what right have you to judge my people unless you’ve lived their lives or shared their experiences?”

“You are right, of course, ir abelas . I spoke out of turn.” He inclined his head, thankful she had let it go so quickly, A it could have easily ruined their conversation.

“Can I ask?” he gestured toward her.

“There’s not really much to say. I have a neurological condition that prevents me from walking, though I can still use my legs to swim.”

"I see he said," not quite certain how to respond.

“Don't say you're sorry, I'm not.”

“Should I presume that means you hear it often?”

“No sooner does someone see the chair than they’re trying to give me the Maker’s blessing.”

“I imagine that would be quite condescending.”

“Oh it is , and it’s infuriating. People can’t imagine that I could possibly love my life, chair and all. Besides, it’s what inspired me to become a mermaid.”

“How did that happen?” He found her fascinating and would gladly have listened to her talk all night.

“It’s kind of a long story. Suffice to say that it's always been my dream, but it didn't seem realistic or feasible before.”

“Why?”

“I... was a different person before, and I worried about different things. When my body forced me to change, I had to reevaluate my life."

“And you became a mermaid.”

"Exactly," she laughed, smiling beautifully. "How do you do that?"

“Do what?”

“When I talk to you, I find myself saying more than I would to someone else.”

“I will consider myself lucky then.” A first time for everything, he thought.

She rested her cheek against her shoulder, looking up at him through long lashes, and he felt irresistibly compelled. Moving forward to the edge of his seat, he pushed a few errant strands behind her ear, fingers gently brushing across her face. She tilted her head then, to push against his hand; so he obliged, cradling her face and caressing her cheek with his thumb. She reached up, taking hold of his wrist, and pressed a kiss into his palm.

His eyes shot open wide, the contact was electric; his pulse thundering violently against his ribcage. She looked at him, eyes unsure, her mouth parted slightly but making no move to speak. They stayed like that a moment, until she suddenly pulled him in for a kiss. Their faces had been close, but the position was awkward; caught by the surprise he reflexively stiffened.

“Shit, ah, I’m sorry,” she bleated, pulling back and turning her head away.

He slid off the couch then, knees on the floor in front of her, and slid his arms behind her back. He pressed his mouth to hers and began pulling her into his lap when her chair suddenly tipped forward, realization of his mistake dawning as her body crashed into his, their foreheads banging together with a loud thud. He let out a pained hiss.

“ Fenhedis,” he cursed, under his breath. “I’m sorry.”

She reached for his shoulders, trying to find purchase, and then began to push up. “Uuuunnghhh!” he groaned, her knee colliding with his groin as he moved to push her away from the sensitive area.

“Sorry!” she bleated, quickly sliding off his lap and onto the floor.

They both just stayed there for a while; he hadn’t even shifted out of the uncomfortable position he’d fallen into. The awkward tension in the air became unbearably thick as the silence dragged on. Ma delavir shan felasil, he thought, kicking himself internally.

“I think,” she muttered suddenly, “that maybe I should go.” He offered nothing in response, because he had no idea what to say. Teldirthalelan, he thought, seriously considering smacking himself in the face.

When she moved to pull herself into her chair, he didn’t look up – didn’t even move. He was stunned, numb, unable to get his bearings, and he was just letting her leave. Next time he felt like the world was punishing him, he would know why. He deserved it.

Chapter 6: A Meeting with the Arcanist

“Nothing… absolutely nothing!” Her palms smacked against the table. “But, I have not given up yet.”

“Proceed cautiously, Leliana, these people are dangerous.”

“So am I,” she glowered, hands balled into fists, “I can try asking Vivienne, but I doubt she’ll have any answers that I don’t.”

His muscles tensed. “I would prefer not to involve Madame de Fer unless absolutely necessary.”

“Hmmm, I wonder…” she looked up and to the side, considering something. “There is a hacker I’ve been hearing about recently, the Arcanist . They are very political, and I think a grand conspiracy would be right up their alley.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“I don’t disagree, but we have limited options.”

His jaw clenched again, mouth pulling down at the corners.

“I am aware.” Had it really come down to this? He normally enjoyed his work, but this was a miserable predicament. It seemed everything about tonight was doomed to failure.

“Here,” she said, scribbling something on a piece of paper and sliding it over to him, “this is the contact information I was able to find for the Arcanist , and Vivienne is always an option otherwise.”

He took the piece of paper, put it in his pocket, and began to rise.

“I’m here for you, you know.”

“Yes, thank you for the information.”

“The pain in your eyes Solas; If you want to talk ab – “

“That is unnecessary,” he said, cutting her off.

She sighed, looking wistful, and he turned to leave. He had what he’d come here for; there was nothing left to discuss.

-----

When he got to his apartment, Cole was just leaving.

“I got the phone you wanted.”

“Thank you, Cole.”

“You are sad, but won’t say why.”

“Leave it alone Cole, please.”

“I want to help.”

“You cannot.”

“You don’t know unless you try.”

“Goodnight Cole.”

“You should call her; that would make it better.” He sighed, shaking his head. He had no way of contacting her even if it was a horrible idea.

“Varric and Anders will know.”

Yes, but he would never ask them.

“For booking inquiries, please fill out the email form below.”

“What did you say Cole?” His eyes widened, looking up into what he could see of the boy’s face through a sheet of blonde hair.

“On the website,” he said, pulling out his phone to show him, eyes bright with hope.

“Goodnight Cole.”

“Goodnight,” he offered resignedly, ducking out the door.

He weighed the choices in his head and at length decided that anything had to be better than working with Madame de Fer.

-----

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Assistance

Arcanist,

I am a financial investigator known in some circles as the Wolf. I tell you this because I believe it will aid you in deciding how best to respond.

A client of mine is being stolen from by a mysterious group in Tevinter whose name I prefer to leave unsaid for now. Tracking down information about this group has proved exceedingly difficult and a colleague of mine suggested that you might be able to offer assistance.

Any aid you could provide would be greatly appreciated, and you would of course be compensated for your time.

-Solas

-----

With that business handled, and while he was already sitting at the computer, he decided to pull up Ellana’s website. He was a fool for not thinking of it himself earlier. The information link was right there, at the top of the screen, but he hesitated and clicked on the gallery icon instead. It was torture to look upon her, knowing the scent of her hair and the taste of her lips, but it was made all the worse by the knowledge that he would likely never be that close to her again.

She was so beautiful it made him ache; reminding him of the now finished fresco he’d painted, that taunted him from where it lay against the wall, hidden in a stack of less interesting works. A fool, he was a fool.

He stood up with purpose and made for the kitchen, desperately in need of a very large cup of tea. It was entirely unsurprising that it did nothing to help the situation, and he quickly found himself back at his desk, clicking over to the contact screen. Pinching the space between his brows, he let out a sharp breath through his nose and began.

-----

Name:            Solas

Email:             [email protected]

Subject:          Apologies

Message:            

Ellana, I am unsure if this will reach you or be seen instead by an assistant. There is nothing I can say to make up for my behavior, but I would like for you to know that I am sorry.

-----

He lied in bed that night for hours awake, and when sleep finally claimed him it was restless, short, and plagued by unhappy dreams. Upon waking, he remembered only that a tentacled beast had dragged him beneath the surface of dark and violent waters; his efforts to the contrary an overwhelming failure. It was a less than pleasant beginning to the day.

He stretched his aching limbs, shoulders hunched forward as he sauntered into the pantry. When had he run out of tea? A tin normally lasted him much longer than this and he could not very well consume alcohol so early in the day. He’d have to go to the store, or perhaps Cole would be willing… no, it was better that he left the house if only for the desperate hope that it might momentarily distract his unsettled mind.

Standing in the tea section of the nearest suitable market, his phone chirruped out an email notification. With a hand hovering over the usual selection - a loose blend of elfroot and spindleweed, his mind stalled between waiting until he was home and checking it immediately. No sooner had he resolved to wait than he was reaching in his pocket and sliding the screen to unlock it. He heaved out a sigh, a mixture of relief and disappointment, at seeing a response from the Arcanist .

-----

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Assistance

I think we work can something out. Give me a number to reach you and I’ll text details for a meet.

-----

He wasn’t quite certain what to make of that, but he typed in the number for the burner and sent it off. Dealing with a potentially unhinged computer hacker was not something that pleased him in the slightest, but duty demanded he explore any potential source of information. Hopefully it would it not prove to be another waste of time.

He received the text during his walk back, opting to check it once he was inside the door. The address they’d sent seemed familiar but he couldn’t remember why. Seven this evening, they instructed; he supposed he was obligated to show. Nothing else to do after all, and no response from Ellana in the interim - a perilous thought that continuously wormed its way into his mind. He watched a documentary on druffalo while waiting for the hours to pass, and drank copious amounts of tea.

It was a short walk to get there, familiar because it was… fenhedis. It was the same place he’d gone with Dorian that boasted inedible culinary faire and a detestably rude waitstaff. A monumental sigh passed his lips before he shook his head and opened the door.

“Mr. Wolf!” called a cheerful voice; he scanned the room for its owner, an uncomfortably enthusiastic looking dwarven woman seated in the corner. Hesitantly he made his way towards her.

“The Arcanist, I presume.” He greeted with a small bow of his head, sitting in the chair across from her.

“You presume correctly! And should I guess that the Tevinter group you referred to has a name that begins with a V and ends in an I?”

He wondered if her smile might at some point get so wide that it split her face in half.

“Venatori, yes.” His face a placid mask.

“How exciting!” her smile getting actually bigger somehow, “I’ve heard so little besides rumors and finding any kind of tangible thread is just amazing! Makes you want to blow something up, you know?”  

“I cannot say that I do.” He hoped she was not serious.

“Really? You should try it sometime!’ Her face was alight with excitement.

“Shall we get to business?” He interjected, not in the mood for this.

“Oh, yeah…” brows lowered dejectedly, and he felt the tiniest pang but he had not the time or inclination to indulge her.

“Oy, Baldy!” called the same brash waitress he had unfortunately not forgotten from his last time here. “Wot did you do ta upset my Widdles?!” She made a beeline towards him, a fierce scowl on her face.

“It’s okay honey, I’m fine,” the Arcanist assured her.

“I’m watchin’ ya eggman,” she threatened, glowering at him from above. He could do nothing but rub one of his temples, a headache dangerously close to forming behind his eyes.

“It’s okay Sera, I promise,” Widdles offered, reassuringly. He thought he might be sick.

“Could we perhaps return to the matter at hand? My time is not unlimited.”

“Right, course, got lots’a important Elven Glory dealies to get sorted.” She scoffed and turned away, presumably going back to the work she was currently being paid to neglect.

“So, the Venatori,” the dwarf smiled with renewed zeal. “What information do you have for me?”

“Very little, I’m afraid. All I have is a single name, Gereon Alexius. He is also a board member of The Pentaghast Group and I suspect him of funneling large sums of money to Tevinter in order to fund these Venatori .”

He passed her a slip of paper with all the information he’d been able to gather on Alexius, and hoped that it would be enough to find another thread.

“I’ll get started on this right away,” she replied with a nod and a gentle smile. He stood, inclined his head, and turned to leave. When he caught sight of the blonde waitress, he exited with increased haste, eager to not be accosted further.

With purpose he walked, though he did not yet return home. It was dark and cool, but the chilly air was soothing to his overwrought mind, freeing him from lingering anxieties. He was determined and needed only to remain so. One way or another, things would progress in regards to the Venatori, and anything else was unimportant.

He was quite comfortable on his own and a romantic dalliance would only complicate his life in unpleasant ways. That’s what he told himself at least, actively pushing down a flash of memory – Ellana’s smile, her bare eyes, her parted lips… the feel of them against his own; the taste of her tongue and feel of her skin.

“ Fenhedis ,” he announced to the air, quickly heading back in the direction of home. It was not such a good night for a relaxing walk after all. He began to wonder if it would ever be again.

He got home and went to bed, sleep claiming his weary body quickly. He dreamed of a great, black wolf with six gleaming, red eyes. It followed after a lithe deer with curling antlers, not seeking to harm it, but unable to halt its chase.

The wolf glided over roots along the edge of a river, moonlight reflecting off the water in shimmering ripples as he darted after his prey. There was something there, in the eyes of the wolf, something he almost thought might be sorrow. At length, it caught up with its quarry, pouncing and laying claim to its neck with a snap of powerful jaws.

The golden deer lay still on the bank, eyes going dark and blood pooling beneath it. The wolf turned its head to the sky and unleashed a mighty howl, a sound of unmistakable anguish. When it looked back, the deer had turned into a woman – skin shining in the moonlight, long hair caked with dirt and blood. He didn’t recognize her, but her hollow eyes felt painfully familiar. The wolf knelt beside her, nudging her ribs with its snout, and sniffing tentatively. Could it not see that she was dead?

Taking hold of her wrist in its jaw, she was pulled across the ground, the wolf dragging her to the bank, and then pushing her into the river with a shove of its nose. Once she was submerged beneath the still water, it turned its head again to the sky and let out an even more agonized howl than before. Solas’ heart clenched in his chest as he watched the wolf walk slowly into the waiting water and let it claim its traitorous hide.

He woke up in a shiver, cell phone declaring it to be 3:17am. He groaned, but then perked up when he noticed the email notification.

-----

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Apologies

Coffee.  Crestwood Café. Sunday. 11am.

-----

It was short, but it was something and that was more than he dared even hope for. He offered a small reply, merely a confirmation, and found it extremely difficult to fall back asleep. This time at least, it was not altogether a negative.

-----

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Apologies.

Until tomorrow.

-----

[unicornforcewinds]

WAM Chapters 3 & 4

The Wolf and the Mermaid: Solas is a forensic financial investigator, and Lavellan is a mermaid performer with a mysterious past. Fluff, Smut, Angst, and lots of Drama. Solas POV.

Chapters 1 & 2. Entire fic on AO3.

Chapter 3: TPG’s Annual Garden Party

When the invitation arrived, his lips quirked up into a smile. This was the Wolf in his element. That’s what they called him, on account of his keen predatory instincts. This was not a party, oh no, this was a hunt, and he would absolutely leave with blood staining his jaws. But then, he was perhaps taking this metaphor a little too far.

He had not been himself lately, thoughts of her entering his mind much too often, and maneuvering through The Game was sure to set him right. Usually, his work involved copious amounts of reading files and computer forensics, but sometimes a job veered more into the realm of corporate espionage. He cut his teeth on more traditional cases, but this is how he earned his reputation. As soon as he scented his prey, the Wolf would be on them, revelling as they squirmed.

Choosing a black, well-tailored suit and a grey silk tie, he cut a decent figure but was still unassuming enough to avoid unwanted notice. He enjoyed the artifice of it all, crafting a character in the details of his appearance. A little obvious, perhaps, his cufflinks emblazoned with a wolf, but he had his pride. Besides, people believed what you wanted them to, if you gave them just enough of a story to build from. And, if someone noticed such a minute detail, it told him they needed to be kept an eye on.

The Pentaghast woman greeted him when he arrived, Cassandra, he recalled. She looked uncomfortable. Pulling at the neckline of her dress. He considered that she might be ill-suited to this line of work, but then, being stolen from and lied to did tend to disagree with most people. He supposed that was a good thing, since he’d be out of a job otherwise.

She briefed him quickly, wanting to get everything over with. It wasn’t really necessary – he had studied the case files, but he decided it best not to interrupt.

“Solas, you are certain they will be here?” she asked.

“Whoever is doing this, if they are not personally tied to you, has someone leaking them information that is. It’s also a good idea to note any people who are absent, just in case, but I believe the person I’m after is too smart to risk raising suspicion.”

She heaved a sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I hope you are right.”

“I am very good at what I do, Miss Pentaghast, try not to worry.”

“Easier said than done,” she paused, a hand on her forehead, “Go down the hall to your left, and you’ll see the doors to the garden. I will be here, trying to pretend I would not rather be anywhere else.” He offered her a rueful smile and took his leave. Now, he was on the prowl.  He didn’t get very far outside before spotting Leliana, who waved him over.

“You seem to be in good spirits, Nightingale.”

“Oh, I am, Wolf. They hired a mermaid , can you imagine? She’s elven, and she’s absolutely lovely.”

“They… what?” He felt warm, hand reaching up to tug on the collar of his shirt, unable to guard against the look of surprise on his face. This could not possibly be happening, had he misheard her?

“Oh my, there is a story there, I think. I have never seen your mask fall before! She must be very special.” she teased him.

Leliana was not someone you wanted knowing your secrets, even if she was your friend and could be trusted. She hoarded scraps of information like they were baseball cards. Fenhedis . He did not want his to be part of her collection.

She wasn’t in the water today, instead, lounging on a chaise inside a giant clamshell, not entirely at odds with the wall of moss behind it. Framed as she was, on either side, by the curved staircases that lead to the balcony, it made for a stunning tableau that he badly wanted to paint. He knew that was a terrible idea, but resistance was futile. She was so well suited to the estate’s garden, looking ever the image of a queen. He imagined she would be well situated no matter where she was, such thoughts impossible to push aside.

He didn’t see Bull anywhere; the qunari’s presence might have been helpful, since he stuck out like a sore thumb and would have tipped him off immediately about Ellana. Then he’d have had the chance to steel himself and not let Leliana seem him lose composure. As it was, leaning against a sculpted column and nursing a glass of wine, he found himself staring at her and feeling wistful. This was not why he was here, and he had work to do… but that’s when she waved.

At least, he thinks she did. Maybe it wasn’t to him. He had intentionally stood outside of her direct line of sight so that his staring would be less awkward, but that plan had apparently failed. He looked around to see if there was someone else she might be looking at, but no. When he turned back, her eyes were zeroed in on him. If there was such a thing as fate, it obviously hated him. Chiding himself, he walked towards her. Why was he such an ass?

“Should I worry that you’re stalking me? You do seem to show up an awful lot.” An odd choice of greeting.

“I… no!, Most certainly, I would –“ she cut him off with her laughter.

“Oh, I’m just teasing you, Solas! Are you always so tightly wound?”

The man who appeared to be her handler in Bull’s staid – a human, strong, with weary eyes and a thick beard – was moving further away - to give them some privacy, he assumed.

“Yes, if I’m being honest, but I am much worse around you.” He was shaking his head now; rubbing the back of his neck. Why was he telling her this?

“Well, I could send you a copy of my schedule, that way you’d know what parties not to attend. Would that help?”

“It would, yes,” he returned, chuckling, and the smallest bit sincere.

“I like your shoes, by the way. A different pair every time I’ve seen you, always very nice.”

His face felt hot all the sudden, wash he blushing? This was more than he could bear.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed, “I didn’t mean to make you feel self-conscious! I… have… a thing with shoes. I mean, everybody has to wear them, right? That’s innocent enough, but it’s kind of become an obsession.” She shook her head, chiding herself. Was she rambling? Her gaze was turned away.

“I,” he cleared his throat, “it is something of a fixation of mine as well.”

She looked up at him, their eyes locking. Everything felt surreal, how did this keep happening? And now they were telling each other personal things. It was definitely getting warmer, he should’ve worn a lighter suit. Too many thoughts, and the silence was going on too long, he needed to break the ice.

“Though I must admit, it seems an odd choice for someone with fins.”

She smiled then, mouth dropping open a bit. “You are so lucky I can’t reach the water, because I’d definitely splash you.”

“My shoes and I are both grateful.”

She laughed, and so did he. The pleasure he derived from it was honest, untainted. It was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time – something he wanted to experience more of.

He caught something at the edge of his vision, turning his head just enough to get a better look. Leliana, she was watching him; watching them. Suddenly he wasn’t smiling anymore, and she looked concerned.

“Are you alright?”

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve been distracting you from your duties for too long.”

“It’s no trouble,” she had started to say, but he kept walking. This was work, and he was behaving like a damned fool! The Wolf was a hunter, a predator, not some tongue-tied schoolboy with a crush. To risk his reputation so carelessly, it was not like him to be reckless. He needed a drink.

At the bar, he recognized the waitress – she was the same one from the Dorian’s party – golden skin, long black hair, bright but cheeky smile. The world was feeling smaller all the time.

“Vodka –“ he began, but she interrupted him.

“With cranberry, right?”

“No,” he breathed, “just the vodka. Go ahead and make it two.”

“You got it, love.”

Both drinks he downed in a single swallow, looking forward to the reliable warmth that would soon fill his stomach. He needed to be grounded, to shake himself out of this state. He was not here to socialize, he had a job to do; owed it to his clients to be at his best. As he crawled deeper into his pit of self-flagellation, he observed the man sitting next to him, a man whose eyes had clearly landed on his cufflinks; a man whose face had shifted, almost imperceptibly, at the sight.

Sometimes it wasn’t a reaction you were looking for at all, but instead, a lack of reaction. The slightest tightening of a jaw in an otherwise emotionless face was a strong indication that something hidden was going on beneath the surface. When someone tried to intentionally obfuscate their reactions by masking them with a placid façade, it meant that whatever they were hiding was usually worth discovering. Maybe the day was salvageable, after all.

The man, a human in his mid 50s?, had noticed that he was being noticed. Unlike his earlier observation of Ellana, Solas had actually been employing his expertly honed discretion. That meant that whoever he was, he was a skilled player in The Game and definitely a person of interest.

“It looks like neither of us is enjoying the party,” the man offered, cutting through the tension with his words.

“I am not certain this is the kind of party that’s meant to be enjoyed.” His voice was cool, the Wolf now alert and at the wheel.

“Not unless you like standing next to gaudy shrubs and making small talk, at least.” He was good, his attempting to find common ground to gauge him…

“Alas, I do not.”

“Something we have in common.” The human extended his hand and he shook it. “Alexius.”

The man’s handshake was firm, but not overly so, an exact match for his own. That too was by design – the way you shook someone’s hand could tell them a lot about you. If someone’s grip was overly firm, or not firm enough; if their hand was stiff, or limp, or sweating - all invaluable clues that revealed a surprising amount of information. This man’s handshake was meant to reveal nothing, and that on its own was significant.

“Solas.”

“I must unfortunately get back to my rounds. Perhaps we’ll meet again.” He gave a polite, closed-mouth smile as he got up to leave. I’m sure of it, he thought, I’ve caught your scent now.

Solas fished his phone out of his pants pocket, fingers tapping on the screen.

Solas 3:12pm Alexius.

Leliana 3:18pm Tevinter. Dead wife. Sick son. You think it’s him?

Solas 3:20 Perhaps.

Leliana 3:21 I suppose that Mermaid Lyna is another possibility. You did seem far more interested in her.

Leliana 3:29 Do you know that the tips of your ears have turned pink? I could talk to her for you, if you like. Put in a good word.

Solas 3:30 No.

Leliana 3:30 ( ◕ ︵ ◕ ,)

Solas 3:31 … What is that?

Leliana 3:32 It’s a little crying face! Isn’t it cute?

Solas 3:33 No.

Leliana 3:34 I bet Lyna would think it’s cute.

Solas 3:34 Marjorlaine.

Leliana 3:35 ( ╹ _ ╹ ) 凸

He was pinching the bridge of his nose now. This was a woman who could strike fear into a person’s heart with a look, whose bread and butter was blackmail and coercion, and she was typing ridiculous little faces into her phone. He felt his jaw clench and let out a harsh breath through his nose. Had he always been so old ?

His spirit should be soaring, having a lead, but instead there was a pit in his stomach. It felt like things were unraveling – like he was losing control. The one party this year he thought he’d actually enjoy, and it might’ve been worse than the others. He hadn’t forgotten the discourteous way he’d treated Ellana, either, and neither had she, he was sure. This was a mess.

When he got home he tried to work, but his mind refused to focus. Defeated, he prepped a canvas and took out his paints. The first brush strokes were reluctant, tenuous, but he quickly found his rhythm and was engrossed. By the time he went to bed, he’d finished her face. He still didn’t know what her eyes looked like. Falling asleep tonight would not be easy.

Chapter 4: A Luncheon with Dorian

Reluctantly he hit the play button on his answering machine, letting out a deep sigh.

Hey Chuckles, it’s me, Varric. I know you’re home and screening your calls and probably won’t pick up anyway, but you’re coming over Thursday night for dinner. If you noticed, which of course you did, I didn’t actually ask, so you don’t have the option to say no.

Anyway, it’s just dinner with friends, nothing formal - Cass will be there obviously, Blondie, Ruffles and… you haven’t met her boyfriend yet I don’t think, and then Fli – no, scratch that, she said she probably couldn’t make it. Bring a bottle of wine. Should be starting about 7:30.

Tonight was Tuesday, so that was more or less enough time in advance for an informal dinner, but he’d have to think about it. Things were getting serious with work, and progress was going at a snail’s pace. He was already meeting Dorian for lunch, and one social event was more than enough for any given week. No, it was better to stay home and continue his progress on the files. This case was much more difficult and complex than he’d imagined, and it appeared that money was being siphoned out of multiple accounts and then funneled into foreign banks in Seheron and Tevinter.

The connection with Tevinter kept Alexius fresh in his mind. He was much too smooth to be uninvolved, but he hadn’t been able to connect any dots. Besides the few tidbits she’d offered him, even Leliana’s well was dry. Considering that she knew just about everything about almost everyone, that put together a highly suspicious profile. Breadcrumbs, he just needed a trail to follow, one piece at a time and then the bigger picture would slowly unveil itself before his eyes.

He’d been trying to avoid the den where a half-finished fresco was waiting for him, a reminder that he shouldn’t be chasing after a fairytale. There were real things he needed to do, and that was a level of distraction he hadn’t realized was even possible. It didn’t help how he’d left things the last time he saw her, and it was likely that he’d never see her again, anyway. He couldn’t bear to finish the painting, but he also couldn’t throw it away. How could a woman he didn’t even know have turned his life so far upside down? Being stuck on this case made it easier for his mind to wander. He needed some kind of breakthrough.

His phone alarm chirped, letting him know it was 12pm, and he needed to leave to meet Dorian. He let out a deep breath and carefully closed his laptop – he might have inadvertently slammed it shut in his irritation once or twice and that was not a smart thing to do.

The restaurant was some new hipster place he was too old and not hip enough for. He hated it immediately. Rave reviews, Dorian had said, obviously from idiots with no taste. Their waitress, a blonde elf with questionable fashion sense, sat them by a window. Her manners left a lot to be desired.

“Right then, wot d’ya want?”

“Malena, da’lan –“

“Wot, no, I don’t speak that elfy shite.” Solas felt like he’d just been slapped.

“I,” Dorian began, trying not to laugh, “I think we’ll need a few more minutes.”

“Ugh, yeah, course, sir elvhen glory has’ta make everyone wait.” He tried to ignore the eye roll before she trotted off. He glared at Dorian, his eyebrows lifting.

“Rave reviews, I believe you said.”

“Me?” he balked, splaying a hand across his chest, “I don’t recall that conversation.”

Solas heaved a sigh as he opened the menu. It was… qunari-dwarven… fusion. His stomach churned. None of this could possibly be edible. Dorian was conspicuously looking everywhere but at Solas.

“You do have to admit that was a little funny… and I mean, being verbally assaulted by your waitress is a memorable and entertaining experience!”

“Very amusing when not being directed at you.”

Dorian cleared his throat.

“Ahem, well, what looks good?”

“The menu selections at restaurants that serve palatable food.”

“It can’t be that ba-, Sweet Andraste! Marinated nug with…” Dorian swallowed, the lump in his throat violently rising and then falling, “I, why don’t we just try one of the specials?” He tried to smile, but the edges of his mouth were turned downwards and it was very unconvincing.

“What makes them special, does the side of food poisoning come at no extra charge?”

“Mmmm. I’ll just,” her turned his head to look for the waitress, waving at her and calling “Hello, miss.”

“Right, so, wa’dya want?”

“Actually,” began Dorian, hesitating, “We wanted to know about the specials, or perhaps there’s a dish you might recommend…” His face had turned a shockingly pale shade. It was hard to tell which one of them was more horrified. They should probably just leave.

“So, two Red Jennies it is.” The waitress said, scribbling on her pad.

“And, would you mind terribly explaining to us –“

“Ugh, you rich tits, thinking everyone else’s time is free. Some of us have ta work, you know? I’ll go put in ya order.”

“You know, on second tho- “ She effectively cut Dorian off by walking away.

“Very well handled Dorian, you’ve a way with the young people.”

“Oh, do shut up.” He tossed one of the whatever they were at him from the basket on the table. “Elvhen glory.”

He shifted his head out of the way, the suspicious lump of what he thought was intended to be bread landing on the floor. “And what is it she called you? A tit, I believe it was?”

“It’s not my fault that a good pedigree is so easily recognizable.” He gave his moustache a little twirl with his index finger.

“Yes, you would take anything as a compliment.” He was rubbing his eyes now, a headache bound to appear at any moment.

A few minutes passed and then their server, used in the loosest possible sense of the word, dropped two steaming plates covered in an unrecognizable amorphous blob.

“So, like, can you get satellite with that thing?” she was inclining the pen in her hand towards his head. Dorian burst out laughing.

“Excuse me?”

“Right, you’re excused. I mean yer ‘ead. You know, on account of it’s so shiny, like. Do you get any signals from space when the sun bounces off just right?”

He could feel the color draining from his face.

“Shut. Up.”

“Jeez, sorry, no need ta go getting all offended. It was a fair question.”

The look he gave her must have been significant because she turned on her heels and walked away without saying another word. Dorian was looking incredibly smug, trying and failing not to cackle.

“Dorian,” he said, grabbing his spoon and digging it into the substance, “can you do me a favor?”

“Wh-“ Solas shoved the spoon into his mouth the moment he’d opened it. “Ahhh, ooh” and he began choking.

He raised his hand and called out, “Check please!” A small smile forming on his face. Dorian was turning green.

They decided to go back to his apartment, since it was in walking distance, and Dorian would be able to purge whatever bits of the ‘food’ he’d accidentally swallowed.

While Dorian made a beeline for the bathroom, Solas decided to brew some tea. He sat at the breakfast bar, turning on his laptop, while he waited for the kettle. The tea was ready by the time Dorian found his way back to the kitchen.

“I’ve made some tea, it should help your stomach, it’s elfroot.”

“Elvhen Glory root, you mean?” He was trying to smirk but his face wasn’t cooperating.

“I think I see a little bit you’ve missed in your moustache,” he looked up at him from the screen, raising one eyebrow.

“As if I’d fall for… my, my moustache you say?” and he was running back to the bathroom, his hand covering his mouth.

His own self-satisfied little smile remained until he took a sip of his tea. Eugh .

He had looked over all these files dozens of times and still nothing. He was beginning to get frustrated. There had to be something he was missing. He opened to a picture of Alexius, and just stared at it for a while, willing it to tell him something.

“Kaffas.” Dorian breathed over his shoulder, he hadn’t even seen him coming out of the bathroom.

“That tea should settle your stomach.”

“My stomach was fine until I saw that,” he lifted his arm, extending his index finger to point at the picture of Alexius. “Why is that on your computer, Solas?”

“He’s a board member of the Pentaghast Group. How do you know him?”

“ Fasta vass . If you’re thinking of investigating him, don’t. I’m not terribly fond of you, but I’d prefer if you didn’t wind up dead.” He looked genuinely grim, which was not something Dorian did.

“Forgive me my doubt, but you do sometimes have a propensity for melodrama. Why would I end up dead?”

“Because that man is Gereon Alexius and he has ties to powers in Tevinter so scary that people in Minrathous are afraid to whisper about them.”

“Can you give me a name?”

“What, no!” He threw his hands in the air. “Did you hear what I just said Solas? I’m not getting involved, and you shouldn’t either. I have a very pretty head, and I like it where it is.”

“I just need a name Dorian, something I can work with. I promise not to involve you and your pretty head .”

He was rubbing his neck now, the seriousness of his demeanor worrying. If he wasn’t at least being sarcastic, then Solas would trust what he’d said. That didn’t mean he was going to stop pursuing this; in fact it meant he’d be pursuing it harder. Dorian didn’t need to know that though, there was no reason to make him worry.

“I can’t close the case and deliver a report to my client without something to offer, Dorian. I’m just asking for a name, that’s all. You can even write it down if you don’t want to say it out loud.”

“We both know you’re going to pursue it to the end, you stubborn old idiot. I just hope your pride doesn’t get you killed.” He heaved a sigh, closing his eyes, and shook his head. “Venatori, they’re known as the Venatori. Alexius is one of them, and an old family friend. He tried to recruit me, but like I said, I like my head where it is. And now, here we are.”

“Thank you Dorian,” he put a hand on his shoulder and gave a small squeeze before being shrugged off.

“Yes, thank you Dorian for signing my writ of execution because I’m too worried about my Elvhen Glory to have an ounce of sense…” he was shaking his head again, “I think I’ll head home, I have a date with a bottle of wine, and I promised I wouldn’t be late.”

“I’ll be fine Dorian, there’s nothing to worry about.”

He didn’t turn around. “Sure, right. I’ll talk to you later.”

He walked out the door and left Solas’ mind running a mile a minute. There was so much he needed to do, but if it really was that dangerous, it was best not to use his computer, or even use a computer at his home. He wasn’t looking forward to more of her teasing, but he’d probably need to read Leliana in, and if things were truly so bad, maybe even Vivienne. That would be an absolute last resort however, their methodologies did not mesh well.

[unicornforcewinds]

WAM: Chapters 1 & 2

Just went through and edited this fic, so am reposting.

The Wolf and the Mermaid: Solas is a forensic financial investigator, and Lavellan is a mermaid performer with a mysterious past. Fluff, Smut, Angst, and lots of Drama. Solas POV.

Entire fic on AO3.

Chapter 1: Kieran’s Birthday

Driving was normally relaxing, when for leisure or because you were heading toward a pleasant destination. Today, every remaining mile seemed to stretch on for an eternity, a pit of dread in his stomach growing tighter and larger as he drew closer to his destination. It would normally have been nice to escape the city and enjoy the mountain air, and it certainly would have been if he was not diving head first into a den of hungry wyvern.

Morrigan had apparently hired a mermaid of all things. That was so quintessentially her style – over the top and ridiculous. He would begrudgingly admit to a modicum of idle curiosity, but was fully prepared to be underwhelmed. The whole affair had devolved into something preposterously extravagant, especially by the standards of a party for children. Why did he even need to be there? They were, after all, only related by technicality.

Kieran was an undeniably remarkable child, but what did that matter? He was nearing forty and had no children; so his going made no sense, but Mythal had made declining the invitation impossible. Seeing his family, if it was indeed appropriate to refer to them as such, was not agreeable under the best of circumstances. Standing beside a pool bustling with noisy children and in very real danger of having his Antivan shoes ruined was not what he would consider the best of circumstances.

It could’ve been worse, he thought, since he had been mostly left alone… but of course, that was when Morrigan decided it was necessary to swoop in and harass him.

“Enjoying yourself, are we cousin?” Her smirk was positively feral.

He would not take the bait, replying deadpan, “I cannot fathom a more pleasurable way to spend an afternoon.”

“Tis a pity we’ve pulled you out of your solitary reverie and forced you to be around people, in the outdoors.”

“My dear Morrigan, I have nothing whatsoever against the outdoors, even when accompanied by the potent aroma of chlorinated water.”

“Not to mention what would happen if it got on your shoes.”

She winked at him, actually winked! Her gall was unnerving, and he was about to make a retort of his own when the elusive mermaid made her appearance. It was… a startling sight – she was all glowing skin, long, cascading hair, and a glittering tail . While she would have been a striking picture on her own, she happened also to be carried by a hulking, one-eyed qunari . The whole of the spectacle left him quite without words.

Morrigan had, at some point,  scampered away, and it wasn’t until her eyes met his for the briefest of moments that he realized he was staring, barely breathing. How was this possible? She couldn’t be a real mermaid, of course, but she certainly was extraordinary, if not legitimately magical. As everyone else became aware of her entrance and took in the sight of her, everything fell silent – people stopped talking and children stopped playing – all anyone could do was stare in awe. Even Morrigan was impressed, though she’d never admit it. If they had ventured to guess what a mermaid performer might look like, she had clearly defied expectation.

When the pair approached the side of pool, the qunari knelt down and gently deposited his cargo on the marble edge, her tail going underneath the water up to about where her knees would be. From this perch, she looked like a queen surveying her kingdom, and she might as well have been, for the way everyone reacted to her.

“Well hello my darling little ones!” She cooed and waved to the children, “My name is Lyna, and I’ve traveled from across the Waking Sea in hopes that a very special boy will let me spend his birthday with him. What do you say Kieran, would you like to swim with me?” While speaking, she had been making dramatic, sweeping gestures with her arms that should’ve looked absurd, but were somehow enchanting… it was a marvel. She was a marvel.

Kieran waded forward curiously and tilted his head sideways, examining the strange woman before him. “Why do you have a tail?”

She giggled, and Solas had determined that he was in fact losing his mind.

“Well my dear, it’s much easier to swim with fins than with feet!”

“Hmm,” He responded, thoughtfully, “Then I think I would like to have a tail.”

She lifted herself off the edge, and eased into the water, swimming towards him. “And perhaps one day you shall!” She smiled and gave him a little splash, before darting into the water and swimming towards the increasingly excited group of children at the other end.

He was watching, almost in a daze, and it was only a matter of time before Morrigan picked up on his piqued interest and felt behooved to antagonize him. Sooner, rather than later, as was usually the case. A self-fulfilling prophecy that thought had been, as that was exactly when she chose to appear.

“It appears as though you’re enjoying the party after all, cousin. ”

“Did I not already say I could think of nothing more pleasurable?”

“Hmm. Well, I for one cannot wait to see the look on Andruil’s face when she hears you’ve been gaping at the help.”

He looked her in the eyes and she was beaming at him, so certain she’d gained some kind of upper hand. Of all the conniving, underhanded… but she had an Achilles heel.

“Were you not so busy surveilling me, you might’ve noticed how taken Kieran is with the help . One would be inclined to think, that as his adoring mother, you would take no course of action that might lead to upsetting him.”

And there it was, that glimmer of feline satisfaction turned instantly into a scowl. He could not say he wasn’t enjoying himself; that was a first.

The party went on in relative peace until it was time to eat; Solas had even managed to reply to three work emails. The illogical distraction that was the mermaid , Lyna she had said, had proven to be troubling but not altogether unwelcome. It was unlike him and also alarming to be so… mesmerized… no, he was just caught off guard, that’s all. Even so, it had made the time pass quickly and he’d never disliked his family’s company less, and that was certainly something .

Kieran had decided that he wanted to eat in the pool, with Lyna, and everything had begun to quickly unravel. Where relative calm had reigned for the past two hours, utter chaos was quickly erupting. Solas squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly remembering why he had been so reluctant to come in the first place.

Because things certainly had not escalated enough, the mermaid-carrying qunari was approaching – not them, but walking straight towards him. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“You seem like a reasonable person,” here he glanced sidelong at the gaggle of bickering people to the left, “Boss is already ten minutes past her contractually obligated break, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the problems that come with defaulting on a contract…”

Of course, because of course. He heaved a sigh and rolled his shoulders in an effort to release some of the tension. At this point he no longer cared that his shoes were destined to be ruined.

“Yes, I understand. Thank you for your patience.”

He walked towards the pool, crouched down and used his most authoritative voice, “Kieran, I understand that today is your birthday and you want to have your way, but your friend Lyna,” here he avoided looking at her because that could only cause trouble, “needs to take a short break. After you’ve eaten your dinner, she can help you open your presents.”

Kieran frowned, but his face showed that he was considering.

“And if you decide that you will not behave, Lyna will have to leave early and you will have to open your presents alone.”

Kieran’s mouth dropped open. It appeared he had chosen the right approach, and it left him feeling oddly self-satisfied.

“Alright,” he reluctantly agreed, and Solas reached down to pull him out of the water, getting his clothes much wetter than he’d have liked. The day was turning out better and better…

As soon as the kids had begun climbing out of the pool, Lyna pulled herself up and the qunari knelt down to lift her. When he stood up, mermaid across his chest, she was at eye level and she looked directly at him.

“Thanks for that,” she smiled, winking.

She wore contact lenses, over-sized and purple. Why was he so curious of how she looked without them? As the pair made for the guest house, which had apparently been their designated staging area, he chided himself sternly. Wondering who she was and how she looked when she wasn’t dressed as a magical creature was foolhardy, but he found the thought irresistible still.

Crazy, he had to be going crazy. Food would be good, or perhaps he should simply excuse himself and leave the party prematurely? Proximity would surely change things and that was definitely for the best, but what if he was required to diffuse another such situation? He needed to speak to Morrigan or Mythal, or someone with an ounce of sense and reason. In this family he was most assuredly wasting his time.  With a weary sigh, he knew resolutely that it was going to be a very long day after all.

Before dinner, he decided to approach Sylaise, who was, sadly, his best option. While perhaps in short supply of altruism, she could, at least, be counted on for her diplomacy. He might’ve explained the situation himself, but he rather preferred that someone else handle it if possible; especially someone better liked by his family.

As a distant non-relative, he had already performed duties above and beyond what even they could expect of him. No, this was not something he need be further involved in. He ate his meal in the kitchen, where he could find peace - if only for a moment.

Shouting from the other room informed him that discussions regarding presents and contracts were fully underway. He could scarcely wait for the fun that awaited him once he was again pulled into the fray. Tense fingers were already rubbing the back of his neck when Mythal’s voice silenced everyone else’s.

“There is no reason you cannot act like rational adults.” He thought his eyes might roll out of their sockets, the hypocrisy was nearly hyperbolic. “We shall eat dinner like civilized people, the mermaid will help Kieran receive his presents, and when that is done, the party will wind down and everyone will leave. It is not so difficult to figure out!”

No, of course it wasn’t difficult to figure out. It’s just that they were all such blustering egomaniacs that they could never agree on or settle anything. At least the party was nearly over.

By some wild twist of fate, the present opening went almost smoothly. Kieran, who was sitting in Lyna’s lap, seemed more interested in her than in his gifts. That was no good to the attendees, who wanted it known that their gift was the best received. She had to be exhausted, Solas thought, but she took it all in stride – the companionable smile never leaving her face. If even his patience was being tested, it spoke volumes of her restraint.

His own offering was a hand-bound, antique journal, perhaps not entirely appropriate. He almost thought he saw Lyna look at him curiously for just a moment, but it was far more likely he’d just imagined it.

Solas decided that he’d wait to leave until she had been spirited safely away. Mythal had suggested he stay the night, but that was completely out of the question. No, the long drive back to his empty apartment was infinitely more pleasant than remaining in current company. Besides, driving always cleared his head, and that was something he definitely needed.

It didn’t work though, and when he got home, took a hot shower and changed, sleep did not come easily. This was unfamiliar and uncomfortable territory to say the least. He hoped that tomorrow would see things returning to normal.

Chapter 2: Dorian’s Soiree

Three months was not enough time to recover between parties. It wasn’t as though there was some kind of intrigue to observe or engage in. He would have been eager to attend if it would in some way appeal to him or further his interests, but this was nothing more than a social gathering. An overabundance of heavily intoxicated people moving haphazardly to very loud noise that passed itself off as music - it was not something he looked forward to.

Dorian and he were… friends, so to speak, but he really needn’t be there to prove that. It wasn’t even a celebration marking some kind of important occasion. Did Dorian hate him? It might be time to start seriously rethinking his interpersonal relationships. Maybe he should just get a cat. Anders was constantly raving about them. But then there would be shedding, and possibly vomit, and he decided that a cat was a terrible idea.

He was arguing with himself and scrutinizing the wall clock when his phone rang. It was Dorian; he sighed before picking up and didn’t bother to say anything.

“…Hello? Solas, I know you’re there.”

A pause.

“You’ve caught me at a bad time, was there something you needed?”

“The only bad time you’re having is trying to come up with a reason you think I’ll believe for not coming to my party. Save us both the trouble and just say you’re going to be there.”

“I would really rather not.”

“I didn’t ask what you’d rather. I put up with you and one of your contractual obligations as my friend is showing up when I throw a party.”

Just hearing the word contract reminded him of Lyna… what was wrong with his brain? It had been three months, but the memory was still so sharp.

“Solas, I know you have no prior engagements and the only thing you have to do tonight is stay at home and read or watch Netflix. Even you have to crave excitement sometimes!”

That was untrue, he did things, many sorts of things! Yes, he read a lot and he liked documentaries, but he also painted and did work and… other things. He sighed. Lately, one of those other things was finding himself caught up thinking of a mermaid he should’ve very much forgotten by now. Maybe some kind of distraction was in order.

“Have you gotten so old that age has addled your brain? Earth to Solas! We’re having a conversation here, do try to keep up.”

Another sigh. “Very well, I will be there.”

“Perfect! I knew you’d see reason. You have the address? You know what, I’ll just text it to you, again. That way you can’t say you forgot or lost it. I’ll see you at 9!”

He closed the phone and rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was getting too old for this.

The closest spot where he could park was about half a mile away, and he could already hear the party before even reaching the doors. It was certainly not a good sign. Actually walking inside was no less than an assault on his senses. He definitely needed some very strong tea, but they were unlikely to have that here, so he’d settle for a double of vodka – top shelf, of course.

Dorian approached him as he took a seat at the bar.

“You know, I take back all the bad things I said about your bald head. When the light hits it right, it bounces off and I can see you from anywhere in the room! Just imagine, if you had hair I might not have found you.”

Solas downed his shot before answering, not bothering to turn his head.

“That would, most certainly, have been a great disappointment.”

“Don’t be so dour! This is a party, afterall. I know you’re out past your bedtime, but even you must be capable of having fun once in a while.”

He might need another shot.

“Besides,” continued Dorian, “I’ve managed to arrange some truly one of a kind entertainment, something that even you might be interested in. I’ve hired a mermaid to perform dur—

Solas sharply spun on his stool to stare at him, eyes wide. The sudden movement and expression had been enough to make the human stop talking, and that was impressive, since he loved the sound of his own voice.

“… Are you… alright?”

He offered no response, just staring at him, unblinking. It was apparently making him feel a bit uncomfortable, as he started to fidget.

Eventually the right wires crossed in Solas’ brain and he turned back to the bar, ordering another double.

“Mermaid got your tongue or something?” He did have to admit that was rather on the nose. “You know, I really went through a lot of trouble to get her, and then I’ve been dealing with her brute of an attendant. I think he was actually hitting on me! Can you imagine? As though I would go for some insolent lughead… Are you even listening to me?”

He downed the shot.

“Not really.”

“One mermaid in all of Orlais, highly sought after and always booked solid, and I manage to get her for my party. Most people would ooh and ahh and be impressed and clamoring to see the mermaid but not you, oh no. Dowdy, boring Solas doesn’t get excited about anything besides work and dusty old books written by dead people.”

That was dramatic, even by Dorian’s standards, which frankly, said a lot. He was of a mind to tell him so when they were interrupted by a large hand cutting between them and smacking the counter. Immediately they both turned, necks lifting upwards to lay eyes on a familiar qunari. Dorian’s posture instantly tensed. He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at that.

“I’ll take the strongest drink you have, and cranberry juice ,” he shook his horned head at the last part. “And another round for my friend.” He waggled his eyebrow and inclined his head towards Dorian.

To this, the human scoffed, but it made the qunari smile. When he turned his head to Solas, his eye narrowed slightly for a split second.

“I remember you. Mr. Reasonable, right? Surprised to see you here, it doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”

“It isn’t.”

He would not have liked the place on its own merits, but being in the same place as her was another matter entirely. Part of him wanted to leave and part of him wanted to immediately seek her out. It could not be healthy to be so at odds with oneself.

“Don’t you have some work you should be doing?” Dorian offered snarkily.

“Oh, a gig like this, there’s really not much to do.”

“Isn’t there some line in your contract preventing you from harassing your client?”

“I can’t be sure. Maybe we should go over it together. How ‘bout right now? There’s an empty office upstairs.”

Dorian started choking on his wine. It was a good sign that Solas should be finding somewhere else to be, like home. As he started to stand, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Since you’re getting up, and you’re not enjoying yourself anyway, why don’t you take this juice to the sea maiden?”

Now he was the one choking, and he began to shake his head when the glass was thrust into his hand. He spared a second to look at Dorian whose face was contorted in disgust. He did not appear to be in genuine distress, so it looked like he was going to have to face her after all.

“Hey, Reasonable,” the qunari was addressing him again it seemed. “The guy working security for the door backstage is Krem. Tell him Bull sent you.”

Before Solas had a chance to nod in response, Bull had already turned back to Dorian. No escape now, he thought, and sighed heavily as he made his way through the crowd of people and toward the back wall. The stage curtain was down, which was a relief, because then at least he would not be caught up in staring.

“Sorry sir, no guests backstage.” The security guard, Krem, informed him as he got close to the door.

He paused, feeling positively ridiculous, and gestured toward the glass.

“Bull sent me.” It sounded as awkward as it felt.

“Ah, should’ve said so. Go right on through.”

He inclined his head as a form of response and walked inside. It appeared to be some kind of large storage and staging area, for whatever acts performed here. Having never been before, he could only venture to guess, but he assumed there was lots of loud noise involved. He was walking forward slowly, observing the surroundings when a voice startled him, her voice .

“Well you’re certainly not Bull.”

She was smiling at him, perched on a platform atop what looked to be a large aquarium.

He cleared his throat, “No indeed, I…” he trailed off. Why was it so hard to talk when she was looking at him? The silence continued uncomfortably until she decided to break it.

“But you’ve brought me juice it looks like? I’ve been dying for something to drink.”

“Something one might think odd for a mermaid to be in want of.”

She let out a small laugh, and he smiled despite himself.

“Well, I could drink tank water, if I was really desperate, but nothing short of dying would compel me to do that.”

He chuckled, surprising himself. She was truly spectacular.

“So, are you going to bring me the juice, or do I have to flop over and get it?”

She was teasing him, and it made his chest tighten.

“My apologies.” He inclined his head and climbed the stairs, bringing them much too close.

“You’re an odd one, you know,” she said, taking the drink.

He gulped. She was wearing large, teal lenses tonight. Her hand brushed his when she took the glass.

“It is not the first time I’ve been called something to that effect.”

Her gaze seemed to be piercing right through his heart, and he felt out of breath.

“You look like this is the last place you want to be, but here you are, coming to my rescue for the second time.”

She smiled at him and winked. She… she remembered him? He remembered her of course, she was not the kind of person anyone was likely to forget, but she had remembered him ?

“You give me more credit than I am due.”

“Or perhaps you just undersell yourself.”

He did not know what to make of that, except that he felt as though someone had lit him on fire. He was also staring full on at her, too shocked to be self-conscious. She looked away minutely, but then back into his eyes.

Her drink was empty now and she was extending the glass to him. When had she had finished it? He had not even noticed.

“I hope you enjoy the show.” Her parting words, he supposed.

“I am certain that I will, Lyna.”

He started to turn around, but she interrupted him.

“Ellana.”

“What?” he turned suddenly, facing her again.

“My name, it’s Ellana. Lyna is just my stage name.”

“I, Ellana, it is… beautiful.”

She laughed, more fully this time, hand covering her mouth.

“Thanks, but don’t go spreading it around. I wouldn’t want my secret identity getting out!”

He bowed at the waist.

“You have my word.”

He was almost to the door when she called out to him.

“I didn’t catch yours. Your name, I mean.”

“Solas, my name is Solas.”

“Goodnight, Solas.” She gave him a small wave before dropping into the water.

“Goodnight,” he whispered back, knowing she wouldn’t hear him.

-----

He sat himself at a vacant table near the stage. Thankfully, most people were preoccupied with dancing, so there was room. The house music tapered off, and what he assumed was the performance music started low and was quickly building. He would normally have considered it too heavy for his tastes, but when the curtain rose and the show began, he decided that it fit perfectly.

There were gasps and applause and even raucous hooting. She seemed to possess some innately bewitching quality that had everyone beguiled. He felt as though she was performing solely for him, and his mind flashed for the briefest second to the image of her on his bed… but no, that was highly inappropriate, not to mention disrespectful. She wasn’t performing for him or any other specific person here, he didn’t think. No, if anything, it was most likely that she was performing for herself alone.

“Can I get you something, doll?”

He hadn’t even noticed the waitress walk up, until she cleared her throat at him.

“Yes. I’ll have a vodka, with cranberry.”

What? So he had a sudden taste for cranberry. It signified nothing.

When there was suddenly a drink before him, he averted his eyes briefly and caught the bright smile of the waitress. He tipped 25%, he was feeling gracious.

“My thanks,” he said, lifting the drink to her.

“Any time, love.”

He sipped his drink slowly, his eyes glued to Ellana. Her movements were graceful, effortless, but with an almost predatory edge, like she was seducing the audience in attempt to ensnare them. Were it the case, he was not the evening’s only successful conquest.

At some point, Dorian had joined him, and even distracted as he was, Solas couldn’t help noticing that he appeared the slightest bit disheveled. He might have made an issue of it, but at this moment, it didn’t particularly interest him.

The show seemed to go on forever and yet ended far too soon. When the music died off and the curtain fell, it was almost painful. Just the sight of her set him ablaze; the loss snuffed the flame out like a bucket of ice water. He couldn’t explain it; was not the least bit comfortable with it, but it felt amazing . How long had it been since he smiled the way he was tonight? He had been content in his routine and was unaccustomed to change, but suddenly it had become very appealing.

Reluctantly he got up to leave, stopped by Dorian scoffing.

“That’s it?!”

He lifted his eyebrows, indicating his confusion.

“You leave me with that b rute , run off to do Andraste knows what, and then I find you with your eyes searing holes in my mermaid, without so much as a Hi Dorian, great party, I’m having ever so much fun .”

“It seems you found ways to sufficiently occupy your time in my absence.”

If Dorian was going to behave like a brat, Solas was not going to let him get away with it.

“You,” he coughed, clearing his throat, “I am not nearly drunk enough for this conversation.”

“Engrossed as I was, I did manage to notice the rather significant look our qunari friend gave you as he left.”

Was he blushing? He certainly looked flustered, but Solas could not let him off so easily.

“It was remiss of me to abandon you, especially when I was conscripted into service, but it seems your evening was far more eventful than mine.”

“Fine, fine! I yield. You’re an ass, Solas.”

“Perhaps.” Definitely, he thought.

“And you thought you wouldn’t have any fun.”

Dorian smirked at him, winking. He stood up, inclined his head, and left.

That night, he fell asleep thinking of Ellana - inside and out of the water. It was foolish, he knew, but he didn’t care.

[unicornforcewinds]

So what if Ellana worked in corporate espionage and was a spy? The elusive, mysterious Carmen Sandiego of the Solavellan world. What if, indeed!

Have some pre-mermaid corporate criminal Ellana, anon! Ihope you like noir, early 20th century American slang, and silliness.I had a little too much fun with this XD

There’s also a glossary of the more obscure terms at the endin case you want/need it. 

Meet the contact, say the passphrase, make the trade. Apiece of frilly Orlesian cake, or so she thought. She’d heard stories aboutthis Wolf, now apparently a major player on the scene. He’d been making bigtrouble for a lot of not so good people, but the only wrong he done her waswiping out the competition. She wouldn’t begrudge him that, hell, she mightjust buy him a drink.

It was a real divey place, straight out of some crime drama,and she stuck out like a sore thumb. If she ever worked for these Venatori clownsagain, there were going to be a few ground rules. Money didn’t do you manyfavors trapped behind cold, iron bars.

Something in her gut said the whole thing felt hinky, andalarm bells went off in her head when she saw him. A tall drink of water like thathad no business being in a place like this. He was here for her, that wascertain, but the equation didn’t add up right in her head.

His eyes appraised the room, steps self-assured as he tookthe seat beside her at the bar. She crossed her legs and his eyes caught on thered stilettos. He was professional about it, but he liked what he saw. Strikeone.

“Can I bum a light, honey?” she asked him, her voice maplesyrup.

“I do not smoke,” Strike two. “but I think it might rain.”

“Oh?” she asked, extra sweet, “that’s too bad, I left myumbrella at home. Thanks, doll.”

“Of course,” he obliged, the edges of his lips liftingperfunctorily.

Strike three, and she was out.

The Vints were pissed, but this was their mess and shedidn’t mop up after nobody.

“The terms of the assignment were quite clear, MissLavellan.”

“You can take your terms and shove ‘em, no racket’s worthbeing sent up river.”

“You failed to perform the exchange.”

“I don’t do hand-offs with the fuzz.”

“We were unaware of any police activity in the area.”

“Closer to home, sugar, you got yourself a canary.”

“A dangerous accusation, have you any proof?”

“You know my reputation; I do my homework.  My contact was a chain-smoking flirt who ain’tinterested in dames. The cat who showed up don’t fit the bill. Either two andtwo equal four, or I split.”

“We will investigate your claims.”

“For now, consider me a free agent. You get your house inorder, and maybe that changes.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Miss Lavellan.”

“Well I work thatway. These shoes weren’t made for bailing out of sinking ships.”

His face said he wanted to make her a new pair out ofconcrete, but she’d fill him with daylight if he tried. Lucky for him, he just grumbled.

“We will be in touch.”

The fundraiser was a veritable who’s who of Orlesian highsociety, but she wasn’t here to rub elbows with big money.  It seemed like every nickel grabber wasworking a rube tonight, and even some foreign talent she didn’t recognize. Goodthing there was more than enough cabbage at this shindig to go around. Let themhave the small potatoes, she was after a box job upstairs.

Dressed to the nines, with a slit to her thigh, no onebatted an eyelash as she made for the elevators. Getting in and out of a placelike this was always smooth angles, she thought to herself, finger reaching forthe button. As the doors shut, she saw something that hit her like a kick inthe pants.

Well shit. If hesaw her, it could make for a sticky situation, which was exactly what shedidn’t need. Her mood went down with each floor the elevator went up, and herpulse was pounding. One thing was certain, he had to work that box lickity splitand hightail it outta this clam-bake.

When the doors opened, she exhaled slowly and lifted her chinall the way up. She made tracks to the northwest corner office and carefullyremoved the painting on the south wall. From her purse, she grabbed the roll oftools and laid ‘em out. Dwarven construction, always tricky, and she was fresh outtanitro. Still, if you plied these ladies with the right kind of sweet talking,they opened up nice and easy.

Just one more tumbler, click… click… and there it was. Thespring mechanism worked its magic and the little lady was ready to spill hersecrets. She was straightening the frame on the wall when she heard the dooropen. Play it cool, Ellana. She smoothedout her dress, gave herself a little shake, and turned to face him.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“An opportunity to rectify my failing to apprehend you.”

“So, you plan to call the bulls and have me sent to the pen?”

“Precisely.”

“Why’d you wanna go and do a thing like that?”

“You steal from innocent people.”

“Nobody’s innocent, doll face. Besides, what’s it to you?”

“My job.”

“If it’s scratch you’re after, I’m happy to grease you up.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Worth a shot, honey. You are a smooth article, I’ll giveyou that. Damn shame you wanna use those smarts to bust my chops.”

He reached behind his back, unhooking a shiny pair ofbracelets from his belt, like he was gonna arrest her himself, right here.

“That’s sweet, peaches, but I don’t wear jewelry.”

She lifted a leg and put her foot firmly against his chest,not forgetting that he liked those red stilettos. It was enough to give himpause, and that’s all she needed. He looked at her confused a second and sheput a hand between her legs, pulling out her iron. Pushing hard with theextended leg, she knocked him off balance, putting a little more distancebetween them.

“You’re quite the hunk of beef; I’d hate to have to pump youfull of lead.”

“So you are not just a thief then, but a murderer as well.”

“You are full-up on the flattery, I… uuhhh, nnnnn….”

Her head was feeling all…fuzzy, and… her legs, when did theyend up under her? She was kissing the pavement, or at the least the expensivecarpet, and everything was spinning.

“…no bullets,” were the first words she heard clearly.

She realized he wasstanding over her and tried to push herself up. No dice. Warm hands grabbed hershoulders, his hands.

“Are you all right?”

“Never better,” she bristled, voice not as solid as shethought it’d be.

“Can you stand?”

“I was just wondering that myself.”

His touch felt nice against her skin; grounding her. Shepushed up to her knees, and it weren’t so bad, she could do this. He lifted her hands to his shoulders, shifted hisown grip to her waist, and together they got her upright.

The moment she was standing, she collapsed against hischest, head swimming. He smelled awful nice, like rain in the evening breeze.He set her gently on the floor and placed a hand across her forward.

“If you wanted to fumble on the floor-“

“Be silent.”

“Just like a man, telling the skirt to cheese it.”

He cleared his throat impatiently.

“Has this happened before?”

“Which part?”

“You should seek medical attention.”

“Croakers? Fat chance.”

He squeezed his peepers shut, and pinched the bridge ofnose. If she wasn’t genuinely scared, she’d… hell, she was still enjoyingherself. Probably a good sign she had a screw loose.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

He picked her up honeymoon style. His face was indignant buthis stormy eyes said otherwise. If she didn’t know better, she’d say this wolfwas on the make.

“Any chance I’m getting that bean shooter back?”

“None.”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Please be quiet.”

“You don’t mean that, dollface.”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Whatever you say, sugar.”

Slang Guide

Bean shooter – gun

Box - safe

Box Job - safe cracking

Bracelets - handcuffs

Bulls - cops

Cabbage – money

Canary - someone who sings (to the police)

Cheese it - stop talking

Clam-bake - party

Croaker – doctor

Daylight - holes (put in a person with a knife/gun)

Foreign talent - crooks from out of town

Fumble - fool around

Fuzz - cops

Grease - a bribe

Hunk of beef - good looking guy

Nickel grabber – low-rate con man

On the make – intent to gain (sex)

Peepers – eyes

Rube – easy mark

Scratch - money

Skirt - woman

Smooth angles - easy, smooth sailing

Smooth article - smart cookie

Up river - jail

[unicornforcewinds]

reposting this for reasons

[unicornforcewinds]

original sketches by the amazingly talented and kind @noctuaalba! third one, urged on by a friend, got me-ified.

[candystrippers-deactivated20190]

How did Seren let the two of them talk him into this in the first place, anyway?  A strip club wouldn’t fix his problems or help him get over Fin.  Still, they managed to persuade him and it would seem they were having more fun than you’d expect, considering the furious levels of ‘gay’ between the two of them.  Still, here they were, Sera and Dagna taking ‘body shots’ and shoving their last remaining dollars down this nice fella’s hotpants.  

And Seren tried to make himself as small and invisible as possible.  Sure, these guys were nice to look at, but he was lonely and heartbroken, not horny, looking to scratch an itch.  Staring at some straight boys gyrate in their underwear for a crowd of drunk women wasn’t going to fill the kind of need he had.  

The dancers could mostly tell, it seemed, that Seren was uninterested.  No one came to his table beside the bartender, refilling his pint glass.  The stage did intrigue him, however.  There was a brass pole in the center that most of the men dancing seemed to use as a prop to grind against.  He’d wondered all night if any of them ever used it the way he’d seem women dancers do, or gymnasts.  

I’m sure this is exactly what Sera and Dagna wanted me to be thinking about tonight, he mused to himself.  

Sera brought over a pair of shots and placed one in his hand.  “You could at least try to have fun, y’know,” she said after they emptied their glasses.  “I don’t know what you see in men, but some of them are pretty, right?”

“I am having fun,” Sarcasm dripped from his lips.  “In fact, I feel better already.  Fin who?  Can we go now?”

“Fine,” She groaned.  “One more drink, though.  Then we’ll leave.”

Seren conceded with a roll of his eyes as she hopped back over to the dwarf at the bar.  His eyes froze there, when they caught the stage.  A young man had walked out who was beyond striking.  Not much older than Seren by estimation, he had bronze skin that seemed to glow softly under the warm lighting, silver-grey eyes Seren swore sparkled, and tone muscles simply everywhere.  He wore red satin boxers that…clung in places, and two more red scarves tied around him just above his hip bones.  

No one was nearby to tell Seren that his mouth was agape like a fool, and when the man began to dance, the poor boy forgot to breathe.  The dancer gripped the pole with only one hand and still his feet hovered just above the stage as he spun, the light dancing across his skin as he moved.  

He was strong without question, but there was more than that.  His movements were fluid and graceful, his body moving at a glacial pace from pose to pose both on the pole and off.

Seren tried to pull his eyes away when his friends returned, but it was too late, Dagna caught him staring.  

“Finally,” she yelped.  “Someone shiny caught his eye!”

“I’ll drink to that,” Sera lifted her shot glass and, slightly hot with embarrassment, Seren touched glasses and drank his shot down.  With her lime chaser still in her mouth, Sera spoke over the music, “Change of plans, Lavellan.  We’re not going anywhere until we get you one dance with Sparkle Boy over there.”

Seren rolled his eyes with obligation but made no attempt to argue.  

Once the dancer left the stage, he began walking the floor, smiling and making eyes at the gawking women and happily taking their contributions.  Seren took a deep breath, thinking he would just give a spectacular tip, tell him he’s a phenomenal dancer, and drag his stupid friends right out of here.  

Sera just couldn’t let it be.  

“Sparkle boy!” She yelled, waving too enthusiastically.  “Come over here!”  It looked like he was smiling, maybe laughing, as he obliged and came to their table, taking a seat next to Sera.  Seren tried not to stare.  Seren failed.  

“Charmed to meet you gorgeous ladies,” his voice was deep velvet with an accent immediately identifiable as Tevene.  The noise in the club was enough to hide the hitch in Seren’s breath.  “If you enjoyed the show, could I interest you in something a little more…private?”

Dagna giggled loud and nervous, “Oh, oh my, Maker, no.  No thank you.  I mean, you’re cute and all, it’s just that –”

“We like pussy,” her girlfriend cut her off.  “Specifically each other’s.  But our friend here…”

Seren’s heart palpitated as the dancer turned his gaze on him.  

“It’s his first time and he just got his heart broken by some twit,” she continued.  “He needs some dick in the face, or whatever it is men do, to get him to snap out of it.”

The man laughed, which relieved Seren a little bit.  He adored her, but some people were put off by his best friend’s audacious nature.

“Well now,” he pried.  “What a treat.”

“Really,” Seren objected. “It’s okay, I’m…I’m not sure this is something I…Look, you’re an amazing dancer and –” Seren dug into his pocket to tip as he intended, but it was gone.  A moment of panic set in until Sera held it up between her fingers.  

“Uh-uh, rich boy,” She teased.  “This is happening.  How much?”

The dancer leaned in, putting a soft hand on Seren’s and holding his gaze.  “The poor man is so nervous,” he said.  “I think he’ll need time, and champagne.  That’s two hundred.”  His fingers danced on the skin of Seren’s palm.  “Worth every penny, you’ll see.”

Seren tried to protest, but the act was pointless.  To be alone with this man, drinking champagne?  Even if it were just a job to him…it sounded too decadent to pass up.  And, before he could pretend to object, he was being led by the hand away from the crowd.  

In the back, the music was muffled by the walls, quiet enough that Seren worried he could hear his nervous breathing.  The room was comfortable.  Seren took a seat on the soft couch and more warm, red lights accentuated the flow of the dancer’s skin.  A bucket of ice sat upon a small round table, full of champagne and two glasses.  

“What do I…” Seren caught himself stuttering and cleared his throat to start over.  “I never caught your stage name.”

The dancer poured their glasses before joining him on the couch.  He sat so close that Seren felt his warmth in the air around him.  He handed over one of the full glasses and answered Seren’s query.  

“Maleficar,” he smirked.  “That’s what you can call me.”

Seren took a generous sip from his glass, trying to shake his nerves. “Is that Tevene?”

Maleficar’s eyebrows rose a bit, “Good catch, an underappreciated language.  I’m sure you’d agree.”

“I’m afraid I don’t really know any,” he answered honestly.  “Growing up Elven we were discouraged from learning anything that, well, wasn’t Elven.”

Seren was rewarded with an honest laugh.  “Quite right.  Well, I hope you feel differently about such things.  There’s quite a lot of this world to know.”

Seren wanted to ask a million questions, he wanted to find out who this person was.   The way he spoke, he sounded worldly and smart, and Seren wondered if he was at University.  What might he be studying?  Has he travelled, seen the world?  What brought him here,  to Ferelden of all places?  Did he miss Tevinter?

But he knew that wasn’t fair to ask.  The poor guy’s just trying to work, don’t invade his personal life.  Just drink your damn champagne.

He did settle for one question, however.  “Can I ask what it means?  Maleficar?”

The dancer leaned in even closer, his mouth so very near the most sensitive part of Seren’s ear.  Just his breath against it made him forget all his manners, and when he spoke it made him weak.  

“It means ‘depraved’,” He sunk his voice deeper on the word, driving Seren to madness.  He was fully aware of how painfully hard he was, and the man hadn’t so much as touched him.  

“If you’re curious about Tevinter culture,” he continued against his ear, sending shivers through him.  “I’ve a dance that will really enlighten you.”

One thing was sure, he wasn’t thinking about Fin anymore.  

Maleficar stood up and untied one of the red silk scarves from around his waist.  Finding the rhythm of the music coming softly through the walls, he began to move.  Just like his stage set, his movements were slow and deliberate, pausing briefly in the poses that showcased him well.  

Moving to the space just between Seren’s feet on the floor, he threw the scarf as a loop behind the back of the elf’s neck, holding both ends and pulling toward him just enough to create a tension between them.  

For long minutes, Lavellan’s eyes travelled back and forth between those piercing grey eyes and the dip in the muscles just above his boxers.  His hips were swaying in time, mesmerizing, as his hands pulled just a bit more on the scarf.  With eyes trained downward on Seren, he slowly came forward to sit straddled across his lap.  

From here, Seren could smell him, like cinnamon and sugar, his bare chest only an inch from his own.  And when Meleficar lowered his hips to his, Seren realized just how little fabric was between them.  For a moment, the dancer sat still in his lap, wrapping the scarf from behind his neck, under his arms, and up so that when Maleficar caressed Seren’s face with his hands, Seren felt the sensation of silk across his skin.  

The faintest “Wow” escaped Seren’s lips, all the shame of enjoying this completely evaporated.  The man heard, and smiled, moving his hips again, this time against the hardness beneath Seren’s pants.  It was simply that for a while, with no words spoken, only deep breaths.  The elf trained his hands to the couch, trying desperately not to work himself up too much, to not forget that this man is just doing his job.  

Doing his job well, he thought.  So, so well.

At some point Maleficar took his hands from Seren’s neck and reached down to grab his.  Slowly, he moved them up until they were resting on the bare skin of his hips.  Seren cast his eyes up to look at the handsome face only inches away from his own.  

“I thought this wasn’t allowed?” He whispered.  “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The man leaned in, this time his cheek grazing Seren’s as he spoke in his ear.  “It’s dancer’s discretion.  And believe me.  After another long shift of pretending to be attracted to women, this is a welcome indulgence for me.”

Don’t panic, Lavellan, he thought.  Sure, the gorgeous man currently grinding my lap just told me he was gay and enjoying this, but he’s also the man I paid to be grinding my lap.  The whole thing could be nonsense.

He tried to continue reasoning with himself but the dancer’s hips were rocking against him harder now, and his chest was fully pressed against him.  Both of them had heaving breaths and soon Lavellan couldn’t keep focused at all.  His hands traveled the skin of his sides and back, and Maleficar’s hands had dropped the scarf, touching his face and neck with only bare skin.  

Very, very good at his job. The diminished voice of reason in his head tried to argue.  Solid work ethic.

The Tevene man’s face was now an inch from his, each warm breath landing on Seren’s lips, and they both were in rhythm against each other now.  Their speed and intensity kept increasing, and eventually, a soft and genuine moan slipped from Maleficar’s lips onto Seren’s, and Seren leaned forward and caught them, their lips pressed tight against each other for a long moment before sobriety washed over them.  

Maleficar pulled back, never stopping his dance, but slowing.  “Unfortunately that really isn’t allowed.”

“Oh, Creators,” Seren said, trying to wriggle himself free from under him.  “I’m so sorry.  I’m so, so foolish and you are so terribly good at what you’re doing.  I’m sorry, please, excuse me.  I’ll get my wallet from my friend, you were magnificent before I went and ruined it.  I’m sorry, I’ll come right back.”

He rushed out of the room to find Sera in the crowd. She was easy to spot, an elf and her Dwarven girlfriend making out against the wall. All Seren needed to do was walk up and whisk his own wallet out of her pocket, heading back to the private rooms.

When he got back, the dancer was standing, a robe wrapped around him. Seren hated himself for the thoughts that were still bubbling in his brain when he looked at him.

The look on Maleficar’s face was difficult to read. Sad, or angry, maybe a mix of both, one couldn’t tell. Seren grabbed whatever cash was left in his wallet after the girls decimated it, and reached out to hand it over.

He was fully prepared to head right back out the way he came, but concern and curiosity got the better of him.

“Are you alright,” he asked, clarifying “you don’t have to answer, I just really hope I didn’t ruin your night.”

The man stepped forward, “Ruin my night?” he sounded genuinely full of surprise. “I made my goals for the evening and I got to do it drinking champagne with a handsome elf.”

Seren was quiet, his confusion plainly read on his face. In response, the man stepped even closer.

“I know,” he sounded exasperated. “You can’t figure out what I’m saying is true and what is work. It’s alright.” He slipped one arm around Seren’s very tense waist, and the other placed a small scrap of paper into his hand.  “Maybe you’d have an easier time trusting me somewhere else.”

With a quick pace, Maleficar slipped out of the room. By the time Seren followed, he wasn’t in sight. Grabbing his friends, he insisted that now was definitely the time to go, and he waited until they were both passed out in the cab ride home to uncurl his fingers from around the paper.

 Dorian

555-9060 

[unicornforcewinds]

if you see this, you need to read this. Stripper Dorian is EVERYTHING.