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salexectrian-heir · 5 years ago

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Banal’ras

Solas saves a stray cat, and it adopts him.

Rated: T (for a reference to the fade kiss)

Solavellan

Part 1 // AO3

Part 2

It took him nearly the entire night to finish the fresco, with no interruptions. He much preferred the solitude the nighttime hours offered, there were no curious gazes and whispering voices to distract him from muse. A great swath of the wall was now forever marked by his hand, his vision. The paint would dry, and reveal the destruction of Haven in bursts of color and shape. As he added the finishing details he noticed a jerky movement from the corner of his eye.

The burlap tarp covering the jars of paint he was not currently using was twitching. He observed a particular lump slinking its way around a large jar come to a nearly a complete stop. The back end of aforementioned lump wiggled before surging forward in a sudden burst.

A small squeak of defeat emanated from under the tarp.

The lump moved towards the edge of the tarp, and a small black head pushed itself free. A pair of inquisitive glowing green eyes peered up at him. In the cat’s mouth was a small, presumably dead, mouse.

Solas didn’t dare move.

The cat slowly retracted herself fully from under the tarp and approached him, her swaggering lilt he found to be oddly charming. At his feet she dropped the dead mouse and sat, looking up at him expectantly.

He did not know quite what to make of this display.

And so, Solas knelt. Slowly, he extended his hand for her to sniff. Her ears flicked back and her postured changed, poised to run once more. Solas held still, allowing his mana to permeate the space around them with a non-threatening air. Her little pink nose twitched, once. Twice. Until she leaned forward, her wet nose bumping his knuckles softly. Her sniffs came quicker, trailing along his fingers until she reached the tips. She pushed her head under, and into his palm.

Solas held his breath.

The faintest sound of purring reached his ears, as she rubbed her face on his hand, stepping forward to let him run his hand along her back. His fingers trailed over her tail, and she circled back once more, rubbing up against his knee, and headbutting his hand.

A loud thump from the library above echoed throughout the rotunda, and the little cat tore off like she had been shocked. Her black body low to the ground, like a fluttering shadow skittering across the floor, making a beeline for the couch.

Solas smirked to himself. “Finicky little thing, you seem to be. “

Now, he thought, to dispose of the mouse.

***

The next morning, he brought more food and water with him from the kitchens on the off chance the cat was still lingering about. He put them in the same place he did the day before, and checked under the couch. The cat was nowhere in sight. To his surprise, he found he had mixed feelings about it. He definitely felt relief, for now he did not have to worry about a cat running about underfoot while balancing precariously on various objects while painting, or it defecating under his desk… but to say his heart did not sink when he didn’t see a pair of reflective eyes staring back at him would be a lie. Cole’s message had stuck with him, despite his best efforts to rid his mind of the spirit’s words. What if she was cold? The floor was not soft, nor was it warm. She was lonely… well. He could more than relate.

He checked one more time under the couch, just in case.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. “I’m not quite sure what’s going on…”

Solas’ heart leapt into his throat as his head snapped towards the voice of the Inquisitor. She stood, leaning against his desk, wisps of her auburn hair framing her face having fallen loose from the braid that hung over her shoulder. She cocked her head, bright blue eyes observing him hunched over on the floor, with one eyebrow raised. “But... I can come back later if you are otherwise preoccupied.”

He rose abruptly. He fought off the flush that threatened to bring color to his face as he took in her amused yet somewhat puzzled expression.

He cleared his throat, “Good Afternoon, Anise.”

Her lips pulled into a small smile. “Hello, Solas.”

His heart seized. Traitorous thing. He couldn’t tell what he hated more, himself or the way his heart staged a rebellion in his chest everytime she said his name.

She broke his gaze, tips of her ears beginning to flush, and did a double take at his desk. “Is this… a mouse?” She abruptly pushed herself off.

“Ah, I can explain,” he said, crossing the distance to his desk in record time, and sure enough there was another dead mouse waiting for him on it. Along with two feathers, and a bent bottle cap. “I believe a cat has taken up residence in the rotunda.”

“A Cat?”

“It is what I was looking for under the couch. She caught a mouse yesterday and brought it to me. Is this normal behavior?”

“Oh Solas,” she stifled a smile, and picked up the bottle cap. She twirled it between her fingers and said, “ This cat has adopted you.”

He tilted his head in question. “I do not follow.”

“Cats often will leave gifts for those they have bonded with. You must have gained her trust. She’s trying to take care of you.”

Ah. Shit.

He sighed. “Skyhold, in its state with renovations, is no place for a cat. She could get trampled, or trapped, or--”

“Cats are clever creatures, Solas. She’ll be alrigh…” Her brows furrowed. “Are you bleeding?”

She didn’t wait for him to reply before she dropped the cap and reached for his collar, smoothing out his sweater on his shoulder. There was a series of small brownish red dots littering the fabric that most definitely was not paint. She peeled it back to reveal several small scabs and a few scratch marks. He had not noticed.

“It is nothing,” he assured her, catching her wrist and tugging it away. The brief contact of her fingertips on his bare shoulder sent the rational part of his brain reeling, and his heart to mutiny all over again. “The cat,” he said sheepishly, in lieu of an explanation.

She ignored his weak protest, and returned her attention to his shoulder. She summoned a soft blue light and traced the scratch marks with deft fingers. Her magic sunk into skin, and pulsed just beneath the surface, not unpleasantly. A shiver ran down his spine as her fingertips lingered a half a second longer than perhaps they should have. She retracted her hands nearly as fast as they graced him.

Her cheeks were beginning to match the color of her ears.

She took a step back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You really should clean scratches as soon as they happen, otherwise they can get infected,” she said.

“It is nice to know there is someone willing to take care of me who will not leave me dead things as gifts.”

Anise did not laugh often, her mirth always reflected in her eyes and rarely made it past her lips, but when she did… it was soft, low and lilting. His insides twisted as she gave him a breathless chuckle. Her eyes flicked up to his briefly, before averting, focusing on instead the pile of gifts on his desk.

“It’s obvious she is fond of you, even if she doesn’t speak your love language.”

“I suppose actions do speak louder than words.”

Immediately as he had said it, he wished he hadn’t. They locked eyes, and a stifling silence fell between them. Her face fully flushed, as he imagined she remembered the same memory that was plaguing him.

Her hand sliding along his jaw, guiding him into an unexpected, but entirely welcome, kiss. One he so eagerly returned tenfold.

“Was there something you needed,” he asked, breaking the tension that held them, banishing the sensation of her lips brushing against his.

Grateful for the distraction, her eyes lit up with purpose. “Yes, I’m summoning the inner circle for a strategy discussion. There are few outstanding items we need to address with the renovations, like official room assignments and not camping out where we see fit. Meet me in the war room in an hour?”

“I will be there, Inquisitor.”

Once her footsteps had completely faded away, Solas released the breath he had not realized he had been holding.

A loud, muffled mewl came from somewhere above him.

“Oh, now you decide to make an appearance.”

He glanced up and his heart stopped. Perched on the railing of the second floor was the cat. Apparently, his cat.

And in her mouth was a dead raven.

Leliana was going to kill him.

#solas #solavellan #solas x lavellan #dragon age #Anise Lavellan

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salexectrian-heir · 7 years ago

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Savior of the Damned (13)

Lavellan finds Fen’Harel wounded and dying in the woods, and has to make a life altering decision.

Superstition and Fear whispered for her to run. Resentment and Anger commanded her stay, watch him suffer and die.Reason told her to send word to the Inquisition and turn him over to their jurisdiction. Mercy pleaded with her to put him out of his misery and end his life on the spot.

But Intuition asked her to save him, and it was Intuition that won her over in the end.

First // Previous // AO3 Link

Teaching Solas to walk again was a slow and painful process. His muscles had been weakened not only from the wyvern venom subtly breaking it down as it had coursed through his veins, but also from being almost entirely bedridden for the better portion of two weeks. He relied heavily on Anise for support just to stand, which meant personal space no longer existed. Standing at his full height, she had to crane her neck to look at his face to hold a conversation. Her heart thudded in her chest each time she had to meet his eyes, and she most certain he could hear it. She had not realized just how much taller than her he was--but she couldn’t let the distraction of her heart get in the way of his progress. They had both made complained of pain, but Anise knew better. He wasn’t her first patient who had to relearn how to use a limb again, and she was keenly aware it was not a pleasant process, not in the slightest. Shortly after Ghilas’an lost his arm thanks in part to the anchor and Solas’ removal of it, he had returned to the Clan for that exact reason. Anise hadn’t been the one to amputate, and was furious she had not been present, that clear. Feelings weren’t to be a part of their end game, no matter how in deep in denial they both fell.

The first few days consisted of solely getting him on his feet, and stretching his legs. He never for she was sure she could have done a better job (she made Ghilas’an swear to express her ire to the so called Iron Bull for his shoddy cleaving). She did however, help him recover. And now she was aiding Solas in his recovery from his confrontation with Ghilas’an. Fate worked in funny ways, it seemed.

At the end of their physical exercises she permitted herself to touch him, running her hands over the muscles of his thigh with a cool healing spell, willing the muscle to yield to her magic and relax. She tried to ignore the way his body reacted to her touch on his skin, the gooseflesh that broke out beneath her fingertips, to the way his muscles of his abdomen grew taut when her hands reached the tops of his thighs, or the way his breath would hitch and he would shudder once her spell broke and the last waves of it rippled through him. He tried to mask the effect it had, but exhaustion was a compelling factor and he obviously didn’t have the energy to pretend her touch didn’t have an effect on him.

The day he finally stood on his own and took his first faltering step she slipped up. She cheered, letting loose a relieved laugh that startled him.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” she lunged forward catching his elbow as he lost his balance, “it’s just you’re finally standing!”

A smile tugged at his lips. “That is obvious.”

She dropped his arm, and made a face at him. “If you’re so confident,” she took three steps back and beckoned him forward with a gesture, “walk to me.”

His face lost a touch of color, but he set his brow.

For a terrifying moment she thought he wouldn’t be able to do it, but by possibly sheer spite alone, he took those three faltering steps into her awaiting hands. This time when she cheered the noise did not make him flinch, but the hug she gave him did. Without thinking, she buried her face into the crook of his neck and looped her arms around him. He stilled beneath her, his hands hovering just over her waist for only a moment before relenting and pulling her in close. One of his hands drifted up her back, stopping to lay between the blades of her shoulders. He was warm and solid pressed against her, a welcomed weight that enveloped her. A soft sigh warmed her temple where he had rested his cheek. It was too easy to slip into him like that. But it was a fragile moment, easily broken when she realized what she had done--what they had done. The sensation felt like shattering when she pulled away sharply, cold air closing in and filling the spaces he once held.

“Great work, I’m sure you’d like to rest now, I’ll fetch you a tome for some light reading,” she said hurriedly, backing up until she felt the entry way of the wing behind her.

“Thank you,” he said quietly as she left him to ease himself back onto the cot.

Both pretended the brief moment never happened.

They stayed out of each other’s dreams, much to Anise’s disappointment. Though she kept it to herself. She could still feel Oblivion prying at her mind’s defenses, though less intensely and not nearly as often. She guessed Solas had something to do with that.

He would still not give up locations of Ghilan’nain’s temples, not matter how many times she asked. She didn’t blame him for not trusting her on this though, because honestly she would have tried to locate them on her own and discover the truth for herself. But he did make a promise to take her to one once he had regained his ability to walk, for it was ‘something they needed to solve together’. She wanted to believe he would follow through on his word and not run the moment he was capable of getting far enough on his own, but she couldn’t quite shake the doubt that shrouded her mind and clung to her thoughts like a mist.

It aggravated Anise that they could not progress on finding a solution for the Veil until he was well. She could tell he was getting anxious too, about his mission. She’d catch him trying to walk by himself upon entering the Infirmary in the morning, as if trying to speed up his recovery. It seems he did not want to heed her warning of over exerting himself--and that he could do further damage that would only postpone his healing.

But his strength and stamina gradually returned to him over the next week. When he was finally strong enough Anise led him slowly around the wing, staying only a step ahead of him with hands out-stretched for him to grab if he lost balance or grew tired. When not exercising, or practicing to walk, Anise scavenged for every tome their Clan had on magic, the Veil, and spirits. It was a limited collection, a handful of books she recognized by the colors of the binding and pictures on the cover. Since most of her clanmates had little interest in magic there were not many to be found. She suspected she might be able to go into the City and find a bookshop… but the idea was daunting to her. Her inability to read would slow her down and the shop itself most likely would have nothing useful… as it was a shemlen owned… and the magic Solas used to create the Veil would most likely not be found in Wycome. Tevinter, perhaps--but it wasn’t like they could waltz right into the Imperium and apply for a library card. She scrapped the idea. If they wanted to find a solution to the Veil, it would have to be done through recounting his steps to create it or getting lucky and finding Tevinter research scattered around the South.

Tevinter.

The idea struck her as she walked home from the infirmary, cheeks flushed and heart rate slowly returning to normal after having another too-close for comfort encounter with Solas (his eyes were too damn distracting).

She changed directions, heading towards one of the reserved guest aravels tucked away at the edge of camp. While on his quest to defeat Corypheus, Ghilas’an would steal away to visit the Clan when time permitted. He only ever brought one companion with him, his lover. How could Anise have ever forgotten the Tevinter Altus and the scandal that erupted when Ghilas brought him home?

Dorian, she recalled fondly. She had met him exactly twice, but only needed to be in his presence for a moment before she decided she approved. They genuinely seemed happy at the time and she wasn’t going to hold it against Dorian he was from Tevinter. He stayed with Ghilas’an in that guest aravel, and had left several personal items behind. If she were lucky, perhaps among those items, books. The Clan never cleared out his belongings, figuring he would return with Ghilas’an one day to perhaps settle. But the more time passed, the less it seemed it was going to happen. Last word had been that their relationship had been strained, with Dorian having returned to the Imperium while Ghilas’an was staying in the South to head the Inquisition under Divine Victoria. She didn’t quite know if they were still together or not. It had been at least a year since she actually spoke face to face with her brother. He rarely wrote and when he did, the letters were always written to her parents, or Deshanna. But not her. She pretended it didn’t hurt.

The aravel was immaculately clean, and came open easily when she picked it. It held a spicy aroma, left over the from all the incense Dorian had been burned over a year ago. The bed was made, the planters empty, and a fine layer of dust had settled on various surfaces left untouched except by time. There were two chests along the far wall by a empty bookshelf. Leaning against the shelf was a sturdy wooden staff with runes etched on its surface. The tip was simple, a circle with peacock feathers sewn where the metal ring melded with the wood. Immediately she crossed to it and weighed it in her hands.

A good weight, sturdy base, not too flashy but just enough to stand out. Very Dorian, she thought.

She gave it a quick twirl and liked the way the feathers fluttered in the air. She set it down and leaned on it, testing its strength. Pleased with its make, she decided it would make a good walking stick for Solas once she got him out and about, and a decent staff for casting once they left on their journey. Her heart leapt. It was starting to become an annoying habit everytime she thought about her future with Solas. She set the staff by the door when she done examining it.

Next, she rummaged through the chests, setting aside clothing she thought Solas might fit next to the staff, including a study pair of leather boots. She hoped they’d be the same size, it was save her many a coin if she didn’t have to buy a new pair for their journey to the Temples once he was walking.

If he stayed around that long.

She shook the thought from her head as she opened the second chest she found, and her heart leapt. Several tomes had been left untouched. They were written in Tevine, but that didn’t matter much to her as she wouldn’t have been able to read it anyway. Solas could though. Four looked like they belong in a set, two had old bindings that were nearly falling apart and needed to be handled with the utmost care. They were most likely rare, and cost a fortune. And the last book she almost felt was pulling her to touch it. It’s binding was a dark purple with gold etching of a skull with spiraling horns on its surface. Her fingers ghosted over the image and she felt a current run between her fingertips and the cover. She gasped, retracting her hand to study where it had shocked her. The magnetic pull started up again, drawing her attention back to the gold ink.

Two things became clear to Anise.

First, that this book held powerful magic.

And Two, that she wanted it.

When she picked it up the second time, the book’s surface lit up, shimmering gold shadows cast on the walls, illuminating the room. She tucked it close to her chest and scooped up the rest of her finds, and quickly left the aravel as she found it.

#solavellan #solas #solas x lavellan #solavellan fanfiction #Anise Lavellan

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