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lagunapoint · 1 month ago

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A small love Solavellan scene💚 I was interested in the image of a slightly more audacious Solas and a more irresponsible Lavellan, allowing herself not to fulfill the duties of studying diplomatic books and the genealogies of the Orlesian nobility (because she's distracted by Solas hehe).

warning: books, kisses, kisses, and more kisses

Ellana stretched, her legs tangled in the warm blankets, while the cool air brushed against her skin, sending a pleasant shiver through her body. She desperately tried to hold on to the fading remnants of her dream, but the gentle voice of ever-concerned Josephine appeared in her thoughts. "Don't miss your lessons, you've got a lot to catch up on." She always worried more than necessary, but that concern warmed Ellana's soul. Their relationship had long since evolved into something almost sisterly and very comforting. With a defiant glance at the stack of books on her desk, she sighed. "How many more years will I have to deal with all this?" she muttered, as her feet touched the cool floor, finally dragging her from her sweet slumber. ***

Ellana lit another candle, scanned the pages of the book, and dipped her quill into the inkpot with frustration. From outside, the sounds of the bustling courtyard reached her ears, where soldiers were training. Cassandra’s commanding and confident voice brought a smile to her face. A light breeze, eager to extinguish the candles, carried with it the scents of bitter herbs and steel, always grounding her back into reality.

The door creaked, and Ellana, expecting a messenger, lazily leaned back in her chair. But her eyes lit up when Solas entered the room, carrying several volumes and scrolls in his hands.

“Don’t tell me...” she covered her face with her hands and sighed in exhaustion.

“I’m afraid so,” Solas’ voice was soft, almost tender, as he set the books on the table. He leaned against the edge, his gaze drifting from her to the contents of the book she was trying to study.

“How interesting,” he murmured, a barely noticeable smile playing on his lips, his voice tinged with a light playfulness that always made her heart beat a little faster.

“This part is the hardest,” Ellana admitted, shrugging.

“In that case, I see no other choice but to stay here. Perhaps you will have questions,” he said thoughtfully, picking up one of the books. He sat on the couch, crossing his legs in his usual manner, and opened it in the middle.

Lavellan smiled and shook her head, settling more comfortably at the desk. Under his gaze, watching her over the top of the book, she felt incredibly self-conscious, but it was the kind of pleasant awkwardness that, with one quick glance, turns into desire. “Does he really think this will help me finish the chapter? Oh, Maker…”

Ellana pretended not to notice his eyes on her as she heard him slowly turn the page. She read the same line over and over again, but goosebumps danced across her skin, and all her energy was focused on resisting the urge to steal a quick glance at him. At his relaxed posture, his leg crossed over the other, his thoughtful eyes fixed on the pages. She tried not to dwell on how his long fingers held the book firmly or how delicately they grasped the edge of the page to turn it. But it was all in vain. Each time, her thoughts returned to his presence, and she imagined countless ways those hands could be used on her body.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and a cold wind rushed into the room, blowing out the candles and scattering the parchments across the floor. A messenger ran in, his hurried steps echoing off the stone walls.

“Lady Inquisitor, lady Montilyet asked me to check if the new books have arrived.”

“Tell her everything is fine.”

The messenger nodded but continued,

“Lady Montilyet also inquired if you might need a consultant to assist with the materials?”

Ellana met Solas’ gaze, feeling her heart skip a beat for a brief moment. His eyes were calm, but there was a quiet confidence in them.

“Tell her I already have a consultant,” she smiled.

“Lady Montilyet anticipated your response, lady Inquisitor,” he blurted. “She asked me to get the name of your consultant so she could give them clear instructions on your study plan.”

Ellana barely held back a smile, sensing the atmosphere thickening with unspoken intrigue. Her eyes met Solas’ again, and time seemed to slow. In that moment, the room felt smaller, filled with unsaid words and secret thoughts.

Solas observed her with that same enigmatic expression that always stirred her soul. Ellana blushed to the tips of her ears; she had never spoken aloud what she was about to say, and her heart noticeably sped up.

“Messer Solas,” the words slipped from her lips with a strong, perhaps overly confident tone. “He doesn’t need any additional guidance. He… is perfectly skilled in everything necessary.” She continued without breaking eye contact with Solas, as if issuing him a challenge, one he answered with the faintest, barely noticeable smile.

Then, she picked up her quill, her entire demeanor signaling that the conversation was over.

“Of course, lady Inquisitor,” the messenger muttered, stammering slightly. “I’ll relay this to lady Montilyet.”

The messenger turned on his heels, and only then did his gaze land on Solas. He had just noticed him and, flustered, gave a quick, unsure nod in his direction. Solas, unhurried, returned the greeting with a slow, deliberate nod. Ellana watched the way his elevated mannerisms surfaced in every gesture, glance, and the proud way he held his broad shoulders. She first noticed it at one of the early banquets in Skyhold, where they spent quite a bit of time in the same room, content with merely exchanging fleeting glances. Thoughtfully, she touched her cold fingers to her neck and took a deep breath, trying to push away the images beginning to form in her mind.

When the messenger finally left, the door clicked shut softly behind him, and the room was once again bathed in half-light and silence, broken only by the crackling of the logs in the hearth. She stared uselessly at the page open before her, doodling swirls on the parchment instead of taking notes. Her thoughts were entirely consumed by Solas' teasing gaze across from her. He made no moves, simply reading in silence, intensifying the electric tension hanging in the air. And with that calmness, he only fueled the fire burning inside her.

“So, Messer?..” Solas stretched the words, his eyes still on the book, but his voice carried an undercurrent of desire he could barely contain. Ellana laughed, and her laughter, like a flowing breeze, filled the room, gently touching his heart. In that moment, he could no longer resist - her laughter was almost unbearably pleasant.

Ellana rose from her chair and leaned against the edge of the table, her gaze drifting toward the balcony and the snow-covered mountains, shrouded in mist. Solas closed the book and approached her slowly, unhurriedly.

“Perfectly skilled?” Solas’ voice held a low, playful edge, a teasing lilt. He wasn’t crossing any lines, but his desire was palpable, like an invisible thread pulling them closer together. Ellana felt a soft shiver run through her, not from the cold, but from the sweet anticipation.

She didn’t answer, feeling the warmth rise to her cheeks.

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving Ellana, and each of his slow, confident movements was deeply felt, sending a shiver down her spine as the space between them seemed to shrink with every step. The air around them thickened with unspoken tension, and her pulse quickened in response to the undeniable pull drawing them together. Solas leaned in, as if about to say something important. His warm breath grazed her skin, causing her self-control to falter.

“Perhaps you should confirm that for yourself,” his lips curving into a subtle, almost imperceptible smile. Ellana couldn’t suppress the deep breath that filled her lungs. Her heart raced as her fingers barely grazed his wrist, gently pulling him closer.

"...and as my consultant, you must suggest a more effective way to learn," she whispered in his ear, her warm breath teasing his skin. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her entire body against his, her cold nose brushing his neck. Feeling his fingers tangle in her hair and his other hand rest comfortably on her hip, she gently ran her fingertip from his earlobe down the delicate skin of his neck, knowing how much he liked it. She took her time, savoring the moment, breathing him in, soaking up his heated warmth. Ellana allowed herself a quick kiss on the hollow of his neck. Her kiss burned him, sending a sweet haze through his mind. She gasped softly as he suddenly and tightly pulled her closer to his body.

His lips met hers, and their breaths intertwined. The tension that had been building between them all day finally burst, and they both got lost in a moment that seemed impossible to escape from. In that instant, the outside world disappeared, leaving only the two of them in the quiet of the cozy room, surrounded by the warmth of the fireplace and the bitter scent of herbs.

Without breaking the kiss, Solas confidently slid his fingers under the edge of her blouse, tightly pressed by her corset, fueling his desire. Ellana met his touch with a hot sigh into his heated lips. She surrendered completely to his caresses, to his presence, to his warmth. And for a moment, it seemed as though all her worries, all the unanswered questions from her books, had vanished in this quiet and tender moment between them.

Solas lifted his head slightly, his breath barely brushing her lips. He looked thoughtful, as if he were wrestling with inner doubts. His gaze was serious, but it held the same desire that blazed in Ellana's heart. With a playful, airy gesture, he ran his fingers along the top edge of her everyday corset, brushing against the thin fabric of her blouse and sensing the tempting softness of the skin beneath. His burning touch moved to her sensitive neck, and finally, his fingers slid into her hair, gently gripping it at the roots.

"Vhenan," his voice was quiet, barely audible, and she sensed something deeper, something troubled in it, "you have no idea how much you tease me."

His gaze softened, and he slowly leaned toward her, his forehead touching hers.

"And I can't... stay away," he whispered, his voice filled with sincere turmoil, "I don't know where this will lead us, Vhenan, but I can't pretend this doesn't exist anymore."

Solas's words filled the room with a thick silence, and the tension between them became almost unbearable. His gaze grew darker, and a flicker of desire, one he could no longer suppress, gleamed in his eyes.

Ellana's heart pounded even harder at his words. She gazed at Solas intently, feeling in every one of his movements the internal battle raging within him.

"Solas," her voice was quiet but steady, "These moments... they��re real. We are real. Let us stay."

In that moment, his resistance finally wavered. He could no longer fight what he felt, and as if freeing himself from the internal struggle, he leaned in, his lips slowly finding hers. The kiss was gentle, but it carried the depth of the desire that had been held back for so long. Ellana responded to the kiss with equal passion, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Her breath mingled with his, and the entire world outside seemed to vanish, as if they were alone in this cozy, warm space created just for the two of them.

His hands slid to her waist again, but this time without hesitation, with a certainty that showed he had no intention of retreating anymore. Her fingers gripped his strong shoulders, and she became lost in the moment, feeling his touch sending waves of warmth through her lower belly. Each second felt like an eternity, yet too fleeting, as if they couldn’t get enough of each other.

When they pulled apart for just a moment, Solas gazed at her, his eyes full of the deep tenderness he usually kept hidden. They both knew that uncertainty lay ahead, that each of them had their duties and dark secrets, but in that moment, nothing mattered except the two of them.

#solas dragon age #dragon age #solavellan #lavellan #solas #dragon age fanfiction #solas x lavellan #lagunapoint #ellana Lavellan #dragon age inquisition #fanfiction #fanfic #♥

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buttsonthebeach · 4 months ago

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Anywhere But Home

Back to writing Solavellan angst and it feels so goooood

Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas (past); Marian Hawke x Merrill (past)

Rating: M for Mature - sexual themes and images

Triggers and Spoilers: Hawke is lost in the Fade; spoilers for Tevinter Nights

Summary: Nine years post-Trespasser, Ellana tries her best to move on.

His name was Varlan and Ellana hadn't seen him since the summer before she became Inquisitor, and when she slept with him, what she was really doing was slipping into an old self to see if it still fit, like the person she had been that summer was an old pair of trousers in the back of a drawer. She'd just forgotten about her. She could try her on again.

He wasn't an Inquisition agent - because of course she couldn't even dream of sleeping with any of them. And he wasn't some hero worshipper fascinated with the myth of her - because every one of them that had approached her since she became Inquisitor made her skin crawl. He wasn't a nobleman whose aims and ends she couldn't trust.

He was just Varlan of Clan Alvar, and they happened to be at the same inn, each passing through on their way to somewhere else. Her to Kirkwall. Him back to his clan.

“Ellana?”

And it was probably the fact that he said her name. It startled her at first - she was tying up her horse at the hitching post and he was just passing by, her hood was still mostly up, she was traveling alone, she was so used to being called Inquisitor or my lady. But then she saw him, recognized him, and it felt good. Just Ellana.

Clan Lavellan and Clan Alvar were close, both Marcher clans that overlapped in their roaming a few times each year, making him one of those people she couldn't actually remember meeting for the first time. He'd just been there. They'd slept together twice before, the last time being that summer before she left for the Conclave, twelve years ago now. So she could know, after passing a flask of whiskey back once or twice while reminiscing about old times in the room she let, that he really wanted to sleep with her for old time's sake and nothing more. She didn't take him up there with that intention - not really - but when it happened, she wasn't sorry.

Dorian had been after her about it anyway. Leliana, too. Gentle at first as the years went on and then more direct, he can't have been that good of a lay morphing into it's been 5 years and you deserve happiness, you know. Ellana, don't you think it's time to…? Maybe this would appease them.

And the first kiss did take her breath away. Not because she was in love with Varlan but because it had been nine years now since someone kissed her. His skin on her skin was exhilarating and too much - she kept her shirt on the whole time, and so did he. And gods it did feel good, it did, the weight of him -

“I'm clean,” he murmured. “If you wanted to…?”

“Me too,” she said, and it hurt even though it shouldn't. She knew she was clean because it had been eleven years since she lay with anyone. “I do.”

“Do you take a brew or should I…?”

That question hurt the worst somehow. She had just turned 39. And there was a part of her that wanted to lie, to not take her brew after he left (because he would leave), because she was getting older, and maybe this was her last chance -

“I do, but maybe to be extra safe…?”

“Of course.”

And gods it was good to feel him move in her, it was familiar, the roll of her hips and the delicious tension in her muscles and yes, it was her first time doing this since the loss of her left arm, but she could almost ignore that. Could almost pretend it was summer, an open field, stars above, and she was just herself. She'd go back to the circle of aravels after this. Restring her bow. Breathe in the woodsmoke. Hunt in the morning.

“I'm glad the gods brought us back together,” he said before he left. “And that they have kept you safe.”

She was sure he didn't intend the words to be cruel. But Halamshiral’s hallways echoed in her mind all the time now, and instantly she analyzed it. He did not ask about the vallaslin. She considered it a blessing. Perhaps he knew? Word had spread through the clans. But he still believed in the gods, still thought they kept her safe. So he knew and still believed?

Why was he conveniently at the same inn as her, at the same time, why had the conversation gone so easily, why had they slipped so easily into old familiar ways?

She banished the thoughts. It was fine. This was fine. She had moved on. She could move on. She carried on to Kirkwall, got settled in to her estate, had dinner with Merrill. Tried to stay in the same skin she'd found briefly with Varlan. Back to Ellana, just Ellana.

“About time!” Dorian said when she called. “Now, perhaps Mae and I can start finding someone eligible for you here in Tevinter. Make me a list and you know we'll make it so. I already have a house picked out for you in the countryside near my villa.”

His words were so bright and so brittle they might snap if he forced himself to be any cheerier. Ellana let out a dry laugh, tried to come up with a witty reply, and found her throat closed. What did she want?

“So I can't just move in alone? Varric gave me a whole house and a key to his city without insisting I have a partner.”

The crystal crackled. She thought maybe she heard a sigh.

“Of course not. Shall I send you the contract? Right after I get this bill passed about elves being able to own property of course.”

“Ah yes, that pesky little thing. Tell me how that's been going.”

“Oh, my friend,” Merrill said that night when Ellana recounted the conversation. How she had not even been able to make a list of what she might want in a future partner. “I don't think I could, either.”

Because Merrill had spent the last eleven years waiting and longing, too.

But Ellana kept trying. What would she want? She looked around Merrill’s table whenever there was a group for dinner. Most of her friends were elves from Kirkwall's alienage. Ellana had always envisioned herself with a fellow elf - but that was when she was young and living with her clan, so of course she assumed she'd bond to someone Dalish. Did that have to be true now? She'd always been with men. Did that have to be true now?

She tried to feel a sense of wonder and possibility. She was arguably the most privileged elf in Thedas, with money, power, and connections in every country. She could envision whatever life she wanted for herself.

The sense of wonder never came.

But Charter did. Back from a teahouse in Hunter Fell, after months of searching and gathering information and coordinating a meeting between spies of every conceivable faction.

“I have news of the idol,” she said. “If you wanted to go get Mistress Hawke.”

She and Merrill both perched, tense, through Charter's tale. It confirmed much of what they had suspected. It was back in the Dread Wolf's hands. That was how Charter referred to him the whole time. Merrill interjected occasionally and called him Fen'Harel. Ellana pretended it was all a story.

“One figure comforting another,” Merrill murmured. “Mythal comforting Fen'Harel himself, if his tales of being her right hand are to be believed? I am more certain now than ever that it was a tool of Arlathan that was blighted, like my eluvian. Perhaps related like the arulin'holm, something used in rituals of creation, lyrium stored directly within to power the spells? One of the implements he used to create the Veil? I never laid hands on it myself. I didn't go into the Deep Roads with Marian, and the fight with Meredith - it was not my focus. I wish I'd had time to see it, study it…”

“That window has certainly closed,” Charter said, shifting her weight, settling into a stance, like she was expecting a blow. “Solas assured me of that.”

Ellana stood.

“He what?”

And then Charter told the end of the tale. The moment she realized the Orlesian bard was not Orlesian at all. How only she and Solas walked out of that room.

The untouched tea.

Her mind circled that detail over and over again until she could smell the fresh plaster in the rotunda, hear the caws of Leliana's ravens, feel the warmth of a hand on her back -

“So he still doesn't like tea?” She finally managed, when she realized Merrill and Charter were staring.

“No, my lady,” Charter said, lowering her eyes.

Ellana hated Charter suddenly. She'd been in the room with Solas. Close enough to touch. She'd heard his voice. Did he look well? Did he look tired? Did he -

“And - Inquisitor, he told me to tell you - that he is sorry.”

It was meant to be a mercy but it felt like a deathblow. Like bleeding out, lungs collapsing, praying there was a healer nearby, eyesight fading.

“Thank you, Charter. That will be all for tonight.”

He is sorry?

“Lethallan,” Merrill said, and let the word hang in the air.

“It’s fine, Merill. You should go.”

“Lethallan.”

He is sorry?

She couldn't talk about this with Merrill. Couldn't ask the woman whose wife she’d left to die to comfort her because the man who willingly left her had sent her a message via a spy, and it was that he was sorry, but he was still going to rip the world asunder.

“Tomorrow. Let's hike to the summit of Sundermount.” The words came from someone else who happened to have Ellana's own voice.

Merrill left. Ellana sat down. She took a breath, then another. She closed her eyes.

He is sorry.

And suddenly, he was in the room with her: Solas Solas Solas Solas. So close she could touch him. She could see him, the sadness in his eyes, hear the hitch in his quiet voice.

Tell the Inquisitor - I am sorry.

Varlan had been on top of her, in her, fingers in her hair, and he was not as real to her then as that image of Solas was now. As she sat there, choking on the unfairness of his words.

He was sorry, but he was still gone. And she was never going to be the same again without him. All the Varlans in the world couldn't change that. All it would take was one word, one dream, to bring her back to the way he looked at her, the way he shook his head, kissed her again. To come, while the music plays, dance with me.

Ellana went to bed and allowed herself to imagine that Solas was down the hall, painting. That she had called for him already, sleepily, that he said he'd be there in a moment. That right when she was on the edge of sleep, he slid into bed, threaded an arm around her waist, and kissed her. He would be warm, solid, large behind her, but he would melt into her too, lean his weight against her - each of them leaning on each other, sheltering each other. And as she imagined it, she felt it - wonder. Bright as midday sun.

She woke alone, flecks of red in her smalls warning her that soon another chance would be gone (even though Varlan had pulled out and she had taken her brew because she knew, knew she couldn't be a mother now, not now, not without him). She went downstairs, saw the letters that had arrived overnight, all addressed to the Herald and the Inquisitor. The final reminder that, Solas or no, there was no way back to that summer field twelve years ago. The world had destroyed Ellana Lavellan and raised up something else instead. Harding said it in the Frostback Basin. Once you are more than a person to someone, you're also less than a person to them. So there was only forward. Deep breath in, out again. Just keep going.

Merrill was already at her door, bags packed, ready for the long day. Smiling even though her eyes were sad. The path up Sundermount felt longer, Ellana's footsteps heavier than usual. She could go anywhere she wanted but home, could have her choice of lovers but not the man she loved. Everyone knew her name but she hardly knew herself anymore, some days.

But then they were at the summit, looking out over Kirkwall and the sea, and if her footsteps didn't feel any lighter, she at least felt equal to their weight again.

“Varric will want to know about the idol,” Merrill said at last.

“Yes. I'll go see him tomorrow. I think he'll be even more involved now that we know for sure Solas has it. It will be even more personal.”

“You are his friend. It has been personal from the beginning.”

Ellana sighed. There were ships out on the sea. What if Solas was on one of them?

“I wish it was only about duty. Only about serving Thedas. For all of us.”

“Would you really wish that you had never met Solas? Never loved him?”

I felt the world change.

“No.”

“It's a good thing he is sorry. That means there is hope.”

A bitter laugh rose in Ellana's throat but she swallowed it down. Hope was a meager thing to live on, year in and year out. But Merrill knew that better than anyone.

“Yes. There is hope.”

They sat up there, breathing hope in and out together, and then they carried it back with them to Kirkwall.

#beach writes #solavellan hell #Ellana lavellan #Tevinter nights spoilers #merrill #f!Hawke x merrill #Marian hawke #angst #Hawke is in the fade #hey remember that time that I suspected that “dread wolf take you” was 5 years post-trespasser #ish #and then I decided I wanted it to be right before veilguard #because I liked it better for where Ellana is at only year before the game starts #pepperidge farm remembers #I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS

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