#Dragon age Solas is an egg | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meowsgirldrawing · 1 year ago

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4 Times Solas laughed, Only one time was Fake-

Solas x Male Lavellan

Word Count- 2,977

AO3 Link

Fen’Harel huffed, shuffling closer toward the warmth nearby. His brows furrowed when it decided to move even further away. When two more inches were covered, he finally opened his eyes, forming a rather sleepy glare.

Balin’s smug smirk is what greeted him. “Comfy, vehnan?”

“No actually. Can’t imagine why, however.”

“No? Well then-” Balin hauls himself off the cushioned sleep roll, ducking his head as his hands pull and tug his long hair into a bun. “Too bad, I suppose.” Fen’s tongue lets off a soft click, pressing his cheek into the blanket. He’s not a coward to admit how his eyes slide along the other man’s arms, to his back, and itching further down. His lips shift, a hidden smile along the fabric. For a rogue, those extra training sessions have done an absolute wonder to his love’s already beautiful body-mind quote from yours truly, Fen’Harel.

“Must be too hard to get up..” Balin’s biceps glow as he reaches down and plucks up his tunic, “And join me for some..” He pauses, dragging the shirt down- Fen feels a part of him whine at the loss-

“Yes?” Fen’s position is quickly adjusted, his upper half being lifted by his propped arms.

“Breakfast!” Balin beams at him.

“Just breakfast?”

“Maybe some training too.”

Fen’Harel turns perplexed, he’s faking. Balin’s smirk is never faltering.. “But you’re a blade wielder, and I, a mage?”

Balin shrugs, “Better late than never to practice not getting hit.”

“Ass.”

“I do love yours, yes.”

Fen’s head tosses backward in a groan, “I should’ve said something better.”

“You getting up soon?” Balin’s tossing on his leather.

“No.”

“Suppose you’ll miss the wash-”

Fen hops to it, yanking off the blanket and scurrying up and at ‘em. “On it.”

Balin’s head jerks back in a ringing laugh, shining amusement as his lover scrambles to grab his clothes with the same amount of speed he’s seen on their camping nights near battlefields. His laughter turns harder as the deemed ‘Dread Wolf’ even trips at one point when tugging on his breeches. Fen joins in soon after, almost bumping into him in his hurry.

Mythal didn’t question at all thankfully why Fen’s hair was still a mess when they finally showed up to their morning greetings. Possibly had to do with the large grins on both faces and how the few times they glanced at each other, Fen kept having to stifle his chuckles while Balin bit back his usual smirk in exchange for a more polite one.

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“ Enchanters remind

That time will not unwind.

The dragon's crooked -”

“Fen!”

Said unfortunate owner of that name, glances up, quirking a brow. If he must, he’s grumpily curious about his intruder.

Only no one's there. His forced curiosity turns into a confused glare.

His head swivels around, facing left and right for the person.

“Up here, ya iggit!”

Oh.

His fellow elf prowls in the trees above, hand curled into a steady branch as her legs brace on it’s side. “OI! Get up here, damn it!”

“And why should I do that exactly?” Despite this, his book is marked and set down.

“Balin’s trainin’ the new recruits!”

“And?”

“Thought you'd enjoy the view.”

The book is quickly tossed aside, albeit gently and with care. The elf wishes to see his lover, yes, but not at the impulsive expense of his favorite tales.

And with such grace and watchful actions for those around him or those who can see him, Fen grabs hold of the first branch and soon another, then another. And soon he’s clambered up to the top, pulling himself up to the same one as his comrade.

The blonde elf with such flamboyant braids along her hairline, huffs a lock out of her face before grinning a wide one, “Looksie! The small lad right there?”

“The one in possession of that odd crossbow?” Fen’s head offers a slight tilt, and raised his brow.

She sneakily giggles, patting his arm and nodding, “He’s a wild one! I like him and I’ve only been see'n for a min, y’know? He’s been a loudmouth, callin’ his skills ta be the best ta spar wit and honestly a near ass.”

“And why do you like him exactly?” He thought she detested such people. Ironic considering her outward characteristics but nevertheless; she even took him as a close friend simply because he was just a little more opposite in comparison. Probably helps her even out, knowingly or not.

“Maybe 'cause he’s been the only one wit the gal ta step up towards Buddy down there.”

As if a demonstration was needed, the younger elf throws himself into a stance, putting his crossbow down for the first time for knives instead. Balin only raises an idle brow and his mouth moves.

It’s too far to tell what they’re saying to one another but judging by the dark look that overtakes the youngling’s face, Balin probably said something off.

Or at least damaged his ego.

The young one snarls then shoots forward, blades spinning. Balin grows a deep frown and heavily braces his shield up. They clash with a jarring thud and the smaller elf nearly stumbles, even more so when Balin doesn’t hold back his thrusted arm forward.

Fen watches, completely amused. Balin’s always known not to go entirely easy on trainees, his main goal to keep them ready for anything in the moment. Afterall, no true enemy would go easy, no matter the gender, size, or anything most see as vulnerable. The vulnerability serves only for a weapon for them to grasp. Balin’s hope is to turn that weapon around for the origin’s use.

Soon, but thankfully not quickly enough, Balin brings down the recruit in a swift two-time swing, one that startled the kid and the next that actually knocked the poor boy down.

Both Fen and his friend wince at the thud; the girl beside him purses in a low whistle, “Poor noggin.”

A small thought agrees with her.

It takes longer than usual but about an hour or two later, the session ends and the group disperses. Trainees either run off to continue what Balin has taught, grab a quick snack by the lake nearby from the nice ‘baker’, or - and quite shamefully he might add- slinker off to gather any wounded pride after being wacked down in front of literally everyone in the area’s vicinity. Ahem- the crossbow wielder.

Perhaps he should keep to the odd contraption instead, Fen’s eyes wander back from the youngin’s moving backside.

As Fen’s ready to slip off the tree, preferably to greet his coming love, his friend bats at his arm, grabbing and tugging him to stay.

She’s giggling at his confusion.

The same confusion that is quickly wadded off as she leans closely in, whispering to his ear like a powerful incantation because the same grin she wears appears, more faintly, on his lips a moment later.

Balin’s shoving in his dagger where it belongs, the sheathe on the side of his ribs, when a familiar friend with blonde locks lands in front of him. He jerks back, seconds away from pulling the same dagger back out.

“Ello, Ball!” The sweet elf cries.

“S-”

“Hear me out, yeah? I got sum funne for ya!” She promises, arms crossed innocently behind her back. Balin sees her grin.

His eyes squint sharply, but reluctantly, he drawls, “ What?” He’s already looking at all corners of his eyes. For what? He’s not certain. For him? He’s damn certain.

She goes giggling through, “Okay-okay-okay! So-” A pitched on, “What do you call pointy and falling?”

His face turns into something, telling anyone that he’s used to this, “..I don’t know. A rock?”

“Noooo!” Her grin is still on.

“A pinecone?”

“Hmm..Nope!” Popping on the ‘p’.

“Someone you posed above me and waiting for the third answer so they can drop down and tackle me?”

“.....Nooooo.”

“Then what?”

“A tree?” She says but it comes out a suggestion then answer. Balin crosses his arms, “Is that the answer or is it-?

“An elf!”

And an elf is what he gets coming down on him from the top left.

So not exactly from a tree branch, but from a large boulder as the mountainside provides.

He gets tackled harshly to the ground, arms wrapping around tightly and yanking them both into a roll down the small hill he just came from.

He groans, tucking out his chin as the other is chuckling and wiggling like a snake against him. As Fen's laughter grows, Balin can just barely hear a high-pitched cackle meters behind them and above.

“I thought..” A rock under his shoulder, ouch, “you were the reasonable one..”

He’s not serious in his statement, not at all.

“Reasonable, yes.” Fen’s eyes twinkle with shared mischief, before sitting up properly, straddling the taller one, “ Does not contradict any and all fun, however.”

Balin scoffs, running his hands down on his hips, “Fun in tackling me?”

“Fun in tackling you, yes.”

“Monster.”

“Don’t you know it.” A flash of a grin and Fen leans down, pressing an unusually giddy kiss on his lips. His dreads leak down, seeming to melt into the splayed out, auburn hair on the ground.

Both promptly ignore the forced gagging noises nearby.

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“Vehnan? Are you alright?”

It takes a bit for Fen to respond. The glow of the candle hanging at the top of their bed dances on the walls, adding more burly to Balin’s large shadow. Stretching the shirt over his head, Balin pauses in his adjusting, worryingly expectantly at him.

Fen opens his mouth, pauses, then closes and nods.

The auburn elf doesn’t buy it, not for a second. His sigh is audible, coming close and kneeling on the fabric’s end, “Ir abelas, but I don’t believe you. Not when your brow is so deep right now.”

Fen’s eyes are blank at the ceiling, brows clearly worrying.

“Tell me?” Balin’s feeble but wanting suggestion.

Fen’s eyes darted, flying to his face. Balin stares back with a slight frown, such soft eyes. A deep brown color he can know from miles away if he so had to. There's a tinge of purple haze in them, but the more warm part keeps it at a tinge.

Would he look at him the same? If he knew what he was planning?

“There’s…” Something I want to tell- yes , “There was a grim sight we came across today at our hunt.”

“The one with S-”

“Yes.”

Narrowed eyes happen, but he relents, “There was?”

“Two wolves, mauled by a rather larger one. We found it ravaging through one of the bodies, like it didn’t even care. Or as if it were so hungry, it just-”

“Became a beast to it’s companions?”

“Maybe. Neither situation seems better. Either it was a friend and took out them out in the midst of it’s hunger, or it came across two peacefully going by their natural lives and tore it from them.”

Balin’s body is a comfort beside him. He ignores the unsettling tingling down his back as he leans up and settles into his brown clothing. The other’s arm comes around his shoulders, a kiss to his unpinned hair.

“The sight must have been real grim to have upset you this much.”

More like the simple thought, “I took longer to sleep last night, my head was more vulnerable.”

“Emotional?” He can feel the smirk across his forehead.

Fen sighs, it’s playful, “Perhaps. I could be overthinking too.”

“And that’s more than alright, love. Some of us have those days, don’t think any less.”

Oh, always Balin, ridding of thoughts like that before they become true.

If only it helped with his actual dilemma. But then again, Fen’ Harel knows very well no words can soothe any thought of his in actuality.

He forces his shoulders to relax, “Yes…I take it you have it some days?”

“Remember that one time I got all teary eyed over that bird?”

“The one with the near mustache?”

“Yes, that one.”

“You called it a beautiful specimen, I think I remember that especially after our friend’s kick of an elbow she has.”

Balin's chest rumbles fast, a laugh pouring out, causing him to smile. He buries further.

“ I promise,” Remembering to breathe evenly, “ I promise I’ll always adore you more than a ‘beautiful specimen’ bird.”

“Oh good, “ He drawls, “It is such a dower to be challenged by a bird of all things.”

“Okay, I’m an elf but not that elfy.”

Fen perks up, then slowly drags a finger over his sharp ears, “Really now?”

“Fen, you need to get better comebacks. Pointing only gets you so far.”

“Pointing helps with many things, I assure you.”

“Mhm..” His eyes are like a minx’s. “Like what?” Nearly coos Balin.

“Directions, learning, reading-”

“Those two can be the same-”

“Problem solving-”

“How?”

Fen shrugs, “Making yourself look smarter?” For emphasis, his finger lifts a bit and wags.

Balin scoffs, beating out an airy chuckle. Fen smirks, “And showing off the most significant things, like monuments, crystals of sorts, castles-”

“When are you going to just be in the middle of nowhere, then find an abandoned castle and point at it?”

“You never know, love, possibilities and futures are endless…just like abandoned castle finding.”

“So you bet you could find us an abandoned castle one day?”

Fen purses his lips quickly, tilting his head sidely at his love, “Who suggested it would be for us?”

“Oh,” His brows are comically risen, “ My apologies, I didn’t know you wanted to be alone forever after! My greatest mistake, my lord!”

It’s only all the willpower he has left that keeps his face from growing sullen, making it just soft instead. His hands glide to the spot between Balin’s shoulders and upper chest, inching up.

‘Never.’ Is what he also says, right before leaning in and connecting with his sweet vehnan.

‘Never’ is what he thinks about an hour or two later, laid across the slowly rising and falling chest as he hears snores from above. His eyes looking but not really seeing the strewn-out clothes on the floor.

His nose buries into Balin’s chest, forcing for sleep. ‘Never’

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As Solas takes out the brush, red paint drips until he carefully taps it on the bowl’s edge. He turns, swiftly finding the spot he was working on and sets to it.

Painting has always been a rather favorite of his since his unexpected joining of the Inquisition. While Dorian has his seemingly endless books, Vivienne has her extravagant clothing and designs, Estel has her growing journal collection by the months, the fourth main mage of their dubbed- ‘inner circle’ had greatly prided himself like the others in his founding hobby.

Enough so that when he heard the tower’s doors nearly smack open and voices flooding through, he felt a spike of annoyance at the mis-streak of work.

Splendid, He huffs through his nose, pulling out the scraper.

“Yo! Solas!”

Ah yes, the Inquisitor. Despite her outlandish personality it seems, she does pull through to be a formidable leader in most regards (besides when coming in unannounced.)

He and the other elf don’t necessarily argue, one would say, just clearly have different views on certain matters.

She calls them frenemies, a shroud attempt at labeling

He calls them companions. On the battlefield.

Bellatrix comes in, and he can’t stop the raised brow at her companion in tow. She beams her usual, “Hey, mage-boy! I gotta introduce ya to someone!”

Solas bites back a remark about her technically being a mage too, and turns to her friend.

He’s a young elf himself, fairly tall but if he would be compared to Solas, probably reaches to his nose. Long auburn hair and tan-ish skin that both honestly gives him faint reminders of Estel.

On top of that, he wears a similar outfit to those he’s seen the dalish wear- elvish patterns and symbols, lots of green and brown. Travel gear. Hm.

The younger man is gazing around the room, an easy smile on his lips as Bellatrix does the talking first.

Solas opens his mouth, introduction-

Their eyes connect.

The feeling of his eyes widening, just makes the scenario feel more real.

A deep brown color he can know from miles away if he so had to. There's a tinge of purple haze in them, but the more warm part keeps it at a tinge.

Would he look at him the same? If he knew what he was planning?

“Solas,” Bella raises a brow but continues to clap a hand on the auburn’s shoulder, “This is Estel and mine’s brother, Bailey. He and our other brother, Pippin have promised their-”

But those eyes stayed the same exact color. His face is similar too, though softer from new genetics. He used to be more angle-like, more sharp on the cheekbones. And while he’s clearly a man, they’re just a wee bit softer now.

Bailey.

Balin.

Solas blinks and he’s back to the present.

Bellatrix regards him a boring stare; Bailey tilts his head, softer in his appearance with that easy smile.

“Solas?” God, does the user of that name have to hide his gulp. Bailey’s little laugh rings in his ears, along with his own heartbeat. Rapid. “My sisters have done well in tales of you. Rest assured, all good ones. It’s a rather honor to meet you, actually.”

No. It shouldn’t be.

Solas breathes, offering a chuckle back. His mind hesitates but his body doesn’t when taking the offered handshake, “Yes.”

Bal- Bailey’s grin grows at his smile.

“But truly, it’s an honor to meet our great Inquisitor’s sibling, is it not?” Finishes Solas.

Clearly can’t help it, Bailey chortles as Bellatrix mutters about Solas being a curse.

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