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love-in-nature · 8 years ago

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My Neighbor, Lavellan: Thrown

Chapter 1 in the Solas POV snippets to accompany my fic; My Neighbor, Fen’Harel. This is meant to accompany chapters 2 and 3 of the main story. If you'd prefer to read this on AO3 here is the link

These will not be a regular update thing like the main story but if you read the main one and ever have a request for a POV from him don’t be shy about asking :).

It only took Solas a moment to find what he came for. The little cakes were a treat he indulged in more than he should if he were honest. Yet, when he had started making his dinner the thought of having them after was too tempting to ignore. He had placed the salmon in the oven before slipping on his shoes and going to the store. He was close enough it would still have some cooking time left when he got back, he need not worry it would overcook or burn while he was away.

Just as he was exiting the aisle with his prize, someone collided with him. In the same instance his nostrils filled with a mix of lavender, vanilla, and a purely unique scent he had not had the pleasure of in a very long time. The closest thing he had ever been able to equate it to was a mix of newly opened books and pure female. That combination. It was not possible to have that here.

His eyes looked down and widened a hint at the site in front of him as the woman bent to collect her things. It must be his mind playing tricks. Even after all this time he---

The woman spoke, still not looking at him, “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I really can be such a clutz sometimes. Totally my fault. Uhm…”

It was her voice. Rich and melodic, the slightest accent from her origins still hanging onto certain words. Solas' heart thundered in his chest, and he found he could not remember how to breathe properly. It was impossible. She was in Orlais still. That she would be here of all places…

Then she was looking up at him frozen. His box of cakes held part way up to him. He watched the flitting of emotions play across her face as clear as if she were speaking them. Recognition, disbelief, shock, pain, and finally rage. The rage settling there, flaming behind her eyes as she stood.

“What are you doing here?”

It was automatic. The hard schooling of his expression to show no emotion. Centuries of this being his way of hiding his intent made the mask slide on with ease. It had always annoyed her when they had been together; now it fanned the rage already bubbling inside her.

Emmy jabbed his box of cakes at him to emphasise her words, “I asked what you were doing here.”

It was more effort than he would care to admit to keep his tone even, “Shopping. It is near where I am currently residing.” As she went to jab the box at him once more, his hand came up to grab the end of it, “May I have my cakes back?”

Surprisingly, she relinquished them to him. He had half expected them thrown at his face. Something he was glad to be wrong on, not that he would not deserve such a thing.

Her eyes narrowed at him, “What do you mean ‘currently residing’?”

He had forgotten. Though not a day had gone by where he had not thought of her, he had forgotten just how stunning she was in person. Memories, tv, and pictures could do little justice to someone like her. She was magnificent, and those things only caught a small portion of it.

It was hugely distracting being so near her again. Solas searched for something to say, to put himself back on track. “I am unsure how to clarify that statement more.”

His eyes settled on the cups she was currently keeping a steadily hardening grip on, most likely thinking of doing that to his throat instead. “You are breaking the cups.”

It clearly took her a good amount of physical effort to release the cups. As his eyes went back to hers, she glared at him with such hatred it made his breath catch.

She growled out, “Good day.” Then spun from him going to the register.

With her attention no longer on him, he took a deep shuddering breath. The fingers of one hand went up to pinch the brow of his nose. He heard her make a comment about a hitman and he pinched harder. Then he took one more deep breath before straightening his shoulders and going to stand behind her.

She avoided looking at him as she paid for her stuff and walked out the door. He could see the rigidness of her body as she forced herself to keep a slow pace.

As he paid for the cakes, his mind remained on her. She must be visiting someone. There was no conceivable way she lived here. The chances were far too small that she could be living here. True, the Inquisition had been disbanded for several months, but he would have known if she was no longer with them in Orlais. She would have told him or rather, the man she did not realize was him.

The cashier handed him the cakes. When he walked out the door, his confusion increased as he found himself following her. Then she turned into his apartment building, and his footsteps halted in shock for a moment. Surely not.

Another deep shuddering breath and he forced his feet forward again. The moment he walked in the door, she turned to him from the stairs entrance. He swore he saw a pulse in her forehead twitch before she ground out, “Alright, that’s---”

Jim interrupted her. Solas and Jim did their usual dance of him asking Jim to call him by his first name instead of Dr. Evans. Jim refusing, as always.

Then both men looked to Emmy. She looked pale, her face drawn and shoulders slumped. The way she looked made Solas’ heart clench and he had to force a swallow in his tightening throat.

“Are you alright, Miss Lavellan?”

Her voice came out barely a squeak, “Fine.” Then she straightened her shoulders some and continued in a stronger voice, “He lives here?”

Jim looked from one to the other, brows furrowed with confusion, “Yes…”

Solas was growing tired of this. To see her, the way her face fell once again at the confirmation, it was killing him a little inside. He felt himself cracking. It was important that he get to his own place where he could think. Be alone.

When he stepped into the elevator, he hesitated. The desire to be near her just a little while longer warred with the pain of what they had been and what they were now. He shifted, his politeness and desire winning out as he moved a hand to hold the door, “Are you coming?”

Her pain was still there, but the rage was back now with it, “I’m taking the stairs.”

He could not help but wince at the force of the door to the stairs slamming behind her. Jim stood staring at the door, his mouth slightly open, still confused. Solas could not blame him. Without context, the whole exchange must be strange.

The moment he removed his hand from the doors they slid shut, and he pressed the button for the fourth floor. He let his head fall back and shut his eyes. Something wet streamed down one cheek. He reached up his fingers brushing along his face.

Then he straightened and looked at the tips of his fingers, a slight frown on his lips. It had been a long time since he had shed tears. Not since he had left her. The sensation was an odd one. The fact that she still had this strong of an effect on him still was unnerving but not surprising.

The elevator beeped. The doors slid open with a quiet hiss to reveal the familiar cream walls and dark bamboo flooring. The building was more modern than he would have usually preferred but he had warmed to the wood flooring, as well as the apartment itself.

He had one of the largest ones set at the end of the hall. The living space had large windows on each side with a balcony that wrapped around and gave him enough room for a small garden. The kitchen had been a good size for an apartment, and it had included an office in addition to the bedroom. All selling points for him. No other apartment in this town had suited his needs.

Now as he slipped his key into place he heard her voice down the hall, “Fuck me.”

He almost dropped the keys as he turned his head to look at her. Those words had been spoken to him before from her mouth, but when they had her eyes had been dark with lust, the full lips swollen and rouged from his attentions to them. The memories made his hands shake.

It had been many centuries since he had to work this hard to keep his face unreadable. It grew harder to control as she continued to walk closer to him. When she stopped at the door directly next to him, he could feel it slip for a beat before he forced it back.

He managed to get out, “You--”

The door she was in front of opened, “Good.” Professor Pavus’ voice. He would recognize it anywhere. The professor stepped out so Solas could see that it was, indeed, him, “You finally decided to grace us with your presence again. Turns out Cassandra does not do hungry well.”

The relief was so immense a gurgle of laughter threatened to bubble from his throat. He had worried for nothing. Having her right next to him like that would have been far too cruel of a joke on both of them, even for a world such as this one.

He spoke trying to hide the relief from his voice, “Professor Pavus, I see. This is your residence.”

Professor Pavus’ eyes went to him; eyebrows raised high, and the relief was chased away just as quickly as it had come. His body going numb even as Professor Pavus confirmed his fears, “Me? Live here? Are you mad? No offense meant of course.”

Emmy’s tone was flat as she attempted to shove Professor Pavus into the apartment, “Of course.”

Professor Pavus stood steady, “You two know each other?”

He watched as Emmy’s brows knitted together, even more, a little furrow of irritation making itself known at the bridge of her nose, “Years ago.” Her hands went up, and she shoved Pavus hard enough to get him inside before saying, “Hardly anything worthy of note.” Then the door slammed behind her.

Forcing steady breathes he turned to his own door. He opened it then shut it behind him, letting the pack of cakes drop to the floor. He pressed his palms flat against the wood, leaning forward with his head hanging down. Tears were burning the corners of his eyes once more. Why had those last words stung so severely?

He allowed himself a few moments to let it out before he slipped off his shoes and light coat. Then he bent over and picked up the cakes before walking to his kitchen. He placed the sweets in a cabinet then reached over to take a bottle of wine from his hanging wine rack along with an empty glass. It was a lovely red he had gotten on his last trip to Orlais.

He did not care much for Orlais, but he had to concede they did some things right. Wine and frilly cakes. Otherwise, the whole country was a waste of space.

He opened the oven to check his salmon. The timer still had several minutes left, so he closed the door again and took a sip of his wine. Wine glass in hand he walked through the living space and into his office. The space was comforting with its shelves of books and papers scattered about.

To an outsider, his desk would look a cluttered mess. Random papers laid out around his laptop, an open book to one side, a planner, and various pens. There was even an inkwell and quill that he used on occasions he was feeling nostalgic for times past.

Tonight, he felt nostalgia but not of that kind. It was nostalgia that had a very specific focus to it. The woman who now lived directly next door to him.

He set his wine down on the desk before opening his laptop and going to his e-mail.

His thoughts wandered to the problem at hand. There was little regarding solutions. Moving was not an option. There was too much here that he needed to stay for. The eluvian for one. Then there were the archives and all the material within. It was by far the most efficient place for him to continue with the work he must do and there was still much to be done.

He would move if he could. For her sake even more than his. However, no amount of wishing it could be so would change the fact that it was not possible. He would just have to continue. Whatever had brought her here it might take her away from here just as suddenly.

That thought firm in his mind he opened a new e-mail and typed in her name. She was in his contacts, so he no longer needed to type out the e-mail address. Just her name. Something that he recalled had felt violating and intimate somehow when they had first started this.

Recipient: Emmy

Subject: As Requested

Attached are the corrected translations of the document you asked me to look at. I am impressed. There were only a few errors. Your ancient Tevene has improved greatly and rapidly. There were only a few minor adjustments. I believe you will no longer need my help on such things.

Dar’eth,

Fen’harel

He clicked on the small digital paperclip and attached the files to the email. Then he moved the cursor over the send button and paused. His hand moved from the mouse to his wine glass. He swirled the liquid, leaning back in his chair, eyes remaining on the screen as the fingers of his other hand thrummed a steady rhythm on his desk.

There was a risk if he went through with what he was thinking of doing. Though it was minimal, it was there. Still, it would allow him to get a better idea of the situation he found himself in. After a beat more he took a breath of air before he straightened in his chair. He took a sip of his wine before setting it down. His fingers went to the keyboard, and he added one last line to the end of the e-mail.

P.S. Is there something you need to tell me da’len?

Then, before he could think better of it, he hit the send button. At that very moment, the alarm went off in his kitchen to let him know the salmon was done. He stood with his wine and went in to have his dinner. Whatever happened now hopefully he would be able to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

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