#ethira lavellan

[elizahgodswood]

Teaser Time

I've got a few fics in the works right now that I am hoping to have posted soon. For now, here is a couple teasers of them!

1. The Storm: (Ethira Lavellan x Solas)

The rain came down in a blanketing drone. The whole mountain valley was grey with fog, slowly creeping towards the hill where Ethira stood. In the distance, a quiet roll of thunder drummed. Flashes of lightning illuminated the dark wave of storm clouds.

With a slow inhale, Ethira took up a wide stance. As she exhaled, she grabbed her staff from its clip and held it before her in both hands. The worn wooden shaft brought back memories of golden fields, summers spent playing by the creek, running through valleys and hills, wild, free. Its rough grooves and grain were far different from the smooth steel and leather staff she wielded now, a reminder of how far she had come, and how far she still had to go.

Another rumbling roll of thunder roared, closer to her now. It was only a matter of time before the eye passed on and the battering wind and rains engulfed her camp once more.

Taking another slow, deep breath, she rose the staff high, bringing it to her lips as she counted through the seconds until the thunder stopped. She reached out, calling to the magic that tingled at the tips of her fingers, forever burned in the back of her mind, watching, waiting, ready. As the connection solidified, she exhaled, feeling the staff grip warm under her touch.

Another inhale, this one anxious, anticipating, waiting to strike, poised. The rain droned on for a few moments longer. The thunder sounded again, louder still this time.

One

She lashed out with the blade of her staff, exhaling with a low growl, feeling the power chanel down into the staff’s crystal. As she spun around, she dropped to her knee and jabbed out. A jet of fire spewed from the tip of the staff, hissing and steaming as the rain attempted to extinguish it.

Two

She rose back to her feet, spinning her staff in front of her. With a snarl, she swung the blade around in an arc before her. Spinning with the momentum, she released another jet of fire, watching the amber flames spin out in a spiral, steaming and hissing. The magic continued to flow, in tempo with her breathing.

Three

The thunder rolled on still. Wind began to tease her cloak, playful and gentle for now. The rain came down harder, colder, sharper, hissing as it hit the staff. It bit through her hood, and nibbled at the tips of her fingers. But the magic kept the worst of it at bay, for now.

Four

She focused on the target she had placed on the opposite side of the clearing. A chill sent a shiver down her spine and out to her fingertips. Charging forward, she stuck out with the staff, sending a shard of ice hurling towards the target.

Five

Ethira leapt up into the air, raising her staff above her. The wind blew back her hood, showering her face in cold rain. The magic thrummed through her now, coursing through every vein, pumping with every heartbeat. The thunder had reached a crescendo with a tremendous crashing up above.

Six

As she landed, the blade sliced through the target, spilling the fine sand within. Rolling to the side, she stood still, holding her head back as the rain soaked her. She waited on baited breath, knowing what would come next

Seven

A crackle of energy spliced the air, hot, wild, untamed. Ethira tightened her grip on her staff and stamped it on the ground. Lightning struck in the distance, illuminating the storm’s grey overcast. A single bolt struck the crystal, dancing about its surface as it illuminated her, breathless and alive.

Eight

With a final arching swing, she redirected the lightning skyward, piercing the dark gloom one last time with a dazzling shower of sparks. The thunder faded into silence once more as the last of the light faded.

Chest heaving, Ethira cut herself off from the flow of magic, sinking to her knees as the energy faded. Again the rain drowned out all else with its monotone drone. She breathed slowly for a moment, letting her own strength return to her.

2. Draped in Gold (Assan Lavellan x Dorian Pavus)

There were many things Assan seemed to have a knack for: archery and bad jokes seemed to be his specialty; suave comments and heart-stopping glances were another set of skills in his arsenal. One thing that Dorian didn't think would make the list was a taste in fashion.

And yet, there he was, resplendent​ in his attire for the ball: he wore a deep scarlet velveteen tunic with a black leather vest. A golden sash with the inquisition's seal embroidered into it draped from one shoulder down his side. A cape lined with fine white fox fur at the shoulders billowed down his back. He wore black and gold leggings with knee high black boots. Upon his face he wore a golden dragon mask. The Vallaslin that was showing under the mask had golden paint mixed into it. The whole effect was stunning to say the least.

"Dorian," He said with a slight purr.

"Amatus," Dorian responded, hoping that his face was nowhere near as red as it felt. He just looked so...  stunning.

 "Shocked, are we?" Assan teased as he held out an arm for him.

"Hardly," Dorian scoffed. "I'm merely impressed that you matched your colors properly."

"Oh please, Josephine picked the colors. I merely picked the mask."

"A dragon mask, for the proud dragon hunter? Someone's going for brownie points with the court."

"Anything to get them talking in our favor. Shall we go?"

Dorian took his arm and followed him outside to the carriage waiting for them. Bull and Blackwall sat inside already. They looked up as they took their seats.

"Going all out, eh, Boss?" Bull grunted. He itched at the collar of his red shirt. Josephine had commissioned identical outfits for the rest of the inquisition attending the ball at the Winter Palace. Crimson button-up shirts trimmed with gold, blue sashes, and ungodly knee high brown boots. Dorian had never felt so shabby. The only thing that made it better was that everyone else looked just as ridiculous.

"As if I could do any less," Assan said as he leaned back in his seat. The carriage rocked as it moved forward. Soon, they would be amidst a throng of nobles vying for more power and favor. Undoubtedly, the night would be incredibly eventful. Nothing normal ever happened to them.

"The evening will not be all fun and games, though," Blackwall said. "There is the peace talks we have to worry about. And the would-be assassin in a room full of fools wearing masks."

"That'll make this night all the more exciting," Dorian said. "Fine wine, fine dining, and the fate of an entire empire in our hands. Choose wrong and we destroy the world. No pressure."

3. The Blood Cure: Chapter 1 (Pavellan AU)

“He’s moving.”

“Keep steady. We don’t know what will happen once he’s fully conscious.”

Assan groaned as he heard the words. They came at him slowly, echoing as though coming at him through a tunnel. All he could feel was cold floor pressed against his cheek. Something was digging into his wrists and ankles.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his knees. He dared open his eyes and squinted in the bright light. Surrounding him were several soldiers, all pointing their guns at him. Painfully tight handcuffs dug into his wrists. His ankles were chained together.

“Finally awake?” A harsh voice asked.

A woman walked a circle around him, glaring in disgust. Ordinarily, he would have been scared, trying to find a way to talk a way out. But, he seemed to be beyond the help of a few cunning words and fake smiles.

"What’s going on?” Assan demanded.

“You damn well know what’s going on!” The woman snapped, kicking him to the floor. “Tell me how you did this!”

“Did what?” Assan snarled.

Another kick to his back was his answer. He hissed as a sharp pain shot up his side. He could hear a faint hitch in her breath; she was failing to keep composure. Something had deeply upset her, and he was apparently tied in with it.

“You will explain this to me now, or so help me, I will kill you,” She snarled, pressing the barrel of a gun against his cheek.

“You tell me what’s going on, and I’ll answer your damn questions.”

There was a silent pause. Another woman’s voice, this one a bit more gentle, answered. “You really don’t know?”

"I don’t even know what I’m doing here. Or how I got here.”

A red haired woman helped him up to a sitting position. She looked him dead in the eyes, “The Divine was trying to settle things between the mages and templars. Then, the whole building was blown to pieces. A foul disease is spreading everywhere. In the midst of the chaos, we found you, healthy, but unconscious. Everyone else was either dead or sick.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?”

The other woman stepped forward, her tone somewhat softer, but her face was still a stone mask, “There is a strange machine in the midst of the chaos; we believe that it is the cause of the sudden outbreak. Hoards of people are now roaming the streets, hysterical and deranged. The dead hunt the living. You are the only one in a state fit to interrogate. We want to know what happened.”

Assan stared down at his hands. He couldn’t remember anything. No machine, no explosion, and certainly no sick people. He looked between the two women, seeing how desperate they were for answers. Answers that he just didn’t have.

“I don’t understand….” He said finally.

“I think… we better show you, if you truly don’t know,” The dark haired woman stood and addressed her companion. “Go to front line, Leliana. We will meet you there.”

The red haired woman drew the hood of her purple sweatshirt, “Be careful, Cassandra.”

She turned and left the room, followed by several soldiers. Cassandra unlocked the shackles around his ankles and gave him a look that clearly said 'if you try anything, you’re a dead man' before unlocking the handcuffs. Assan rubbed his wrists. He doubted he would get very far with four armed men and an even more heavily armed woman escorting him if he tried to run. They had him cornered.

They pushed him from the room, guiding him down the hall. Soldiers ran to and fro; not a single one’s face wasn’t grim as they escorted civilians or carried supplies from one room to another.

They were in a hospital, but there wasn’t that usual feel to it. It was depressed, despaired. The main power supply was off, so only the emergency lights run by the generators were on, which definitely didn’t help with the atmosphere. The whole place gave off a  serious ‘please kill me now’ feeling. Great, he thought, that’s a hopeful sight.

“Things seem pretty bleak,” Assan said, finally noticing that all the windows were boarded up. There were wooden planks and metal plates nailed to every window. “Is it really that bad?”

“You will see soon enough. Come; to the roof, first,” The guards left them as they neared the stairs. She motioned for him to go first. He started up the stairs, noticing how uneasy the air felt once the door shut behind them. The muffled sounds of screams and wails made the hairs on his neck stand on end. He slowed his pace, dreading reaching the roof. Did he really want to see what had happened?

[lady-firefingers]

The Storm

Word Count: 1739

Characters: Ethira Lavellan, Solas

Pairing: Solavellan (pre-romance)

Description: Ethira slips away for a moment of quiet. Solas offers encouraging words to ease her fears.

The rain came down in a blanketing drone. The whole mountain valley was grey with fog, slowly creeping towards the hill where Ethira stood. In the distance, a quiet roll of thunder drummed. Flashes of lightning illuminated the dark wave of storm clouds as they marched onwards.

With a slow inhale, Ethira took up a wide stance. As she exhaled, she grabbed her staff from its clip and held it before her in both hands. The worn wooden shaft brought back memories of golden fields, summers spent by the sea, a gentle hand on her shoulder as she struggled to master the simplest of spells, and the smiles and encouragement that came after every success, and every failure. Its rough grooves and grain were far different from the smooth steel and leather staff she wielded now, a reminder of how far she had come, and how far she still had to go.

Another rumbling roll of thunder roared, closer to her now. It was only a matter of time before the lul in the storm passed on and the battering wind and rains engulfed her camp once more. Taking another slow, deep breath, she rose the staff high, bringing it to her lips as she counted through the seconds until the thunder stopped. She reached out, calling to the magic that tingled at the tips of her fingers, forever burned in the back of her mind, watching, waiting, ready. As the connection solidified, she exhaled, feeling the staff grip warm under her touch.

Another inhale, this one anxious, anticipating, waiting to strike, poised. The rain droned on for a few moments longer. The thunder sounded again, louder still this time.

One

She lashed out with the blade of her staff, exhaling with a low growl, feeling the power chanel down into the staff’s crystal. As she spun around, she dropped to her knee and jabbed out. A jet of fire spewed from the tip of the staff, hissing and steaming as the rain attempted to extinguish it.

Two

She rose back to her feet, spinning her staff in front of her. With a snarl, she swung the blade around in an arc before her. Spinning with the momentum, she released another jet of fire, watching the amber flames spin out in a spiral, steaming and hissing. The magic continued to flow, in tempo with her breathing.

Three

The thunder rolled on still. Wind began to tease her cloak, playful and gentle for now. The rain came down harder, colder, sharper, hissing as it hit the staff. It bit through her hood, and nibbled at the tips of her fingers. But the magic kept the worst of it at bay, for now.

Four

She focused on the target she had placed on the opposite side of the clearing. A chill shivered down her spine, flowing through her veins and out to her fingertips. Charging forward, she stuck out with the staff, sending a shard of ice hurling towards the target.

Five

Ethira leapt up into the air, raising her staff above her. The wind blew back her hood, showering her face in cold rain. The magic thrummed through her now, coursing through every vein, pumping with every heartbeat. The thunder had reached a crescendo with a tremendous crashing up above.

Six

As she landed, the blade sliced through the target, spilling the fine sand within. Rolling to the side, she stood still, holding her head back as the rain soaked her. She waited on baited breath, knowing what would come next

Seven

A crackle of energy spliced the air, hot, wild, untamed. Ethira tightened her grip on her staff and stamped it on the ground. Lightning struck in the distance, illuminating the storm’s grey overcast. A single bolt struck the crystal, dancing about its surface as it illuminated her, breathless and alive.

With a final arching swing, she redirected the lightning skyward, piercing the dark gloom one last time with a dazzling shower of sparks. The thunder faded into silence once more as the last of the light faded.

Chest heaving, Ethira cut herself off from the flow of magic, sinking to her knees as the energy faded. Again the rain drowned out all else with its monotone drone. She breathed slowly for a moment, letting her own strength return to her.

Another roll of thunder rumbled, shorter than the last. The lightning moved on, further down the mountain range. Disappointment began to set in. Part of her had hoped to continue after a moment’s rest, to push herself as far beyond her limits as she possibly could.

The cold setting in got her back on her feet. She stretched slightly, breathing deeply with every movement to make sure she was ready to move on. Once she was satisfied that she would not stumble on the walk back to her camp, she started the trek down the mountain.

The path was almost nonexistent, visible to her only through familiarity of the area as it twisted back and forth down the steep mountainside. She took her time, not wanting to rush her return. It was not often that she got these moments to breathe, to forget about the Breach, the Inquisition, about the thousands of people who depended on her.

The rain and wind were not as harsh under the cover of the towering pine and firs, a light drizzle compared to the harsh bite up at the peaks. The dampness of her cloak and armor did not bother her too much. Soon, she’d be nestled by her fire, dry and warm. If the cold grew to be too much, there were other little burrows that she could take refuge in to warm herself.

As she reached the creek, she stopped to fill her water skin. The cold water bit at her fingers as she lowered her pouch to fill it. Once her thirst was sated, she continued on, following the twisting creek down further still.

Soon, she could see her camp, nestled under a rock outcrop. The fire was burning, and a lone figure sat before it, warming their hands. Curious, Ethira pressed herself behind the nearest tree, peering through the mist to see who exactly it could be.

Slipping from tree to tree, she drew nearer, gripping her staff tightly in one hand. There hadn’t been people this far out as far as she had seen the last few months. The camp she had been making was inconspicuous in her opinion- the fire extinguished to leave no smoke, lanterns extinguished. But the gaping hole glowing green through the clouds in the sky above her warned that nothing was as it seemed anymore.

A branch snapped underfoot. Ethira sucked in a sharp breath and hid herself from view, hoping that the intruder had not heard her. The intruder looked up, scanning the trees to pinpoint the sound. Was this person alone?

“Ethira? Is that you?”

A relieved sigh escaped her as she left her hiding spot. Solas stood with his staff in one hand, a ball of blue fire burning in his hands to help him see through the mist.

“It is,” Ethira responded. As he spotted her, that familiar small smile twitched at his lips. He extinguished the flames and returned to his seat by the fire. She sat beside him, warming her hands by the fire. She sighed in relief as the heat flowed back to her fingers. “You followed me?”

“I grew curious to see where it is that you go during storms. You seem to disappear whenever it rains like this,” Solas motioned to all of the decorations strung about, handmade trinkets and her attempt at painting on the rocks. “I can see now that you come here to meditate.”

“It’s not so much meditation as an escape,” Ethira drew her legs in closer, resting her chin on her knees. A small smile spread across her face. “Thunder scared me as a child. When my magic appeared, the Keeper taught me how to count the seconds between the thunder, so I’d know when the storm is over. She’d take me out in the middle of them, and teach me to control my fears as we trained.

“I learned to love the rain- the thunder, the lightning, the energy that a storm brings. It’s a chance to be free, to push yourself with no fear of destroying anything. Sometimes I miss that little freedom,” Ethira’s smile faded. “to be able to walk amongst my people, knowing my magic was a gift and not a curse, that my people did not fear it, but encouraged it.”

“So that was you up on the peak,” Solas nodded slowly. “I was beginning to fear you had been attacked, when I saw the lightning. How long will you be out here?”

“Until dawn,” Ethira answered. “The storm has passed.”

“So long? It was not so late when I followed your trail here.”

Ethira smiles tiredly, “I like the silence here. No one asking for me, waving or gaping at me, whispering as I pass. The trees are silent, and the animals do not judge a mage that simply wants to be free again.”

Solas was silent for a moment. “Things have been wearing on you greatly, lately. Is there anything you would like to discuss?”

“Nothing worth troubling you with.”

“I would not offer if I thought it would be any trouble to listen, Lethallin.”

Ethira looked down at her hands, noting the sincerity in his voice. Solas had always been willing to hear her out when he had the time. It was a kinship she hadn’t expected to find so far from the clan.

“Things are starting to get very serious, aren’t they?” Ethira said quietly. “We have a name to the enemy, impossible odds stacked against us. By the Creators, we sound like the heroes of legends and fables… and I am to be the hero. It will take some getting used to.”

“You fear failure.”

“Maybe a little. The fate of all Thedas rests on my shoulders. It can be daunting at times.” She looked up at him as he placed his hand comfortingly on her knee. He smiled softly at her, clearly out of words of encouragement. But the gesture said enough to her. She cupped her hand over his, staring out into the rain.

“Whatever may come, know that I will be at your side, Ethira.”

[elizahgodswood]

Coming soon!

Been working on my solavellan fic faded a lot the last couple of days. Once I'm finished with the buffing and spit shining, I should be reposting the first chapter some time this week.

[elizahgodswood]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas Characters: The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Solas (Dragon Age), Cole (Dragon Age), Blackwall (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age) Series: Part 6 of Faded Summary:

A stroke of fate and good luck brings Iron Bull and Ethira together-and not a moment too soon.

[elizahgodswood]

Faded: Lost

Whumptober Day 1: Stabbed

Characters: Ethira Lavellan

Word Count: 1199

*************************************************

Her whole body went rigid as the blade impaled her. She’d felt cold steel before, but none had ever been this cold. Ethira stared at the sword tip embedded in her side in surprise. The red templar snarled victoriously at her.

“Creators, no,” Ethira whispered. “Not today. Not now.”

She stared into the eyes of the templar, saw herself in his twisted dark eyes. Time seemed to slow. Flames came to life in her hands, spreading up her arms and legs as the templar grinned in slow motion. The templar’s smirk faltered as the flames jumpe onto him.

In an instant, the two were blown apart as an explosion consumed the battlefield. Ethira lost her senses as she flew through the air: which way was up, and which way was down? She couldn't hear, and the world was just a blurry haze of green, brown, and red. If she screamed when the blade wrenched from her side, she couldn't tell.

A sharp blow to her back snapped her back to her senses. She stared up at the canopy of the forest, dazed. She couldn't breathe, could barely hear over the ringing in her ears. Every nerve was on fire, screaming in agony. Despite the shock and the pain, she managed to scramble to her feet. Her staff was nearby, a little singed but otherwise intact. Grabbing it firmly in her hands, she fled into the forest, hand clutching her side as she went. Nothing tempted her to look back. She needed as much distance between her and the battle as possible.

Before long, her legs decided she’d run enough. With a violent jerk, they gave way. She fell face first onto the mulchy ground, mind fogged with exhaustion and pain. But still her instincts told her to flee, to find shelter and tend to her wounds. She forced herself to her knees. The staff that saved her life countless times would have to save her once more. With gritted teeth, she dragged herself up again. One slow step at a time, she continued on, using her staff to help her stay upright.

It began to feel like hours that she had been walking. Undoubtedly she had left a blood trail. Her fear of being followed by predators was only outweighed by her desire to survive. The adrenaline was beginning to take its toll, though. Her limbs were beginning to scream with fatigue. The sword wound was screaming again, growing worse with every step. Her vision was swirling, fading in and out of clarity. She could feel her heart beating in the back of her head. Her breath hitched painfully with every inhale.

Her legs gave way a second time. Too exhausted to go on, she let out a weak, muffled groan. Why hadn’t she paid attention in battle? This would not have happened if she had just been more careful. But Solas was being overwhelmed. She couldn't just stand by and watch him die.

She reached down for her hip flasks, her fingers fumbling over broken vials and shards of glass. Her pouch of herbs was gone, as was her pack of supplies. She cursed under her breath as she felt her way along her belt, hoping that at least one of her potions had survived the blast and her fall. A wave of relief swept over her as she closed her hand around the last vial. She pulled the cork with her teeth and downed its contents, grimacing at the earthy, dry taste.

A small amount of strength returned to her. She rolled herself onto her back. A moan of agony escaped through her clenched teeth. The scent of singed hair and fabric tickled her nose. She lifted a hand up to her side, feeling warm blood flow over her fingers. With the other hand, she drew the dagger from her belt.

Shakily, she cut through the leather and the tunic underneath. The sword had not gone all the way through, thankfully, but the wound was deep. Her sudden explosion of magic had prevented him from skewering her completely. Unfortunately, it had also caused the gash to lengthen considerably. Five inches of severed flesh was bleeding freely.

Despite her exhaustion, she summoned up her remaining energy and blew out a sigh to steady herself. She gripped the blade tightly in her hand, turning the dagger a bright cherry red. Her hands trembled as she brought the burning blade closer to her side. She bit into the leather of her collar and pressed the blade into the wound.

A fresh explosion of pain seared through her side. She screamed through clenched teeth. Her stomach churned, threatening to expel its contents. Blood filled her mouth as she bit through the leather and into her tongue.  

Gasping for breath, she pulled the knife away from the cauterized wound. She laid still for a while, but did not give into the lure of unconsciousness. The sky above was a deep blue, the clouds tinted pink from the setting sun. She needed to find shelter, quickly.

After a few minutes more of resting, she rolled onto her good side and grabbed her staff. She hauled herself to her feet. Her vision swayed, but she stayed standing. Yet again, she set off at a slow hobble, careful not to rip open the wound. She didn't have time to bind it until she was safe.

Sleep begged to embrace her as she wandered aimlessly. It was a demand she longed to succumb to, but the threat of death kept her moving. Even the onset of the chilling Hinterland evening wouldn’t stop her.

And so, she walked on.

Her staff lit the way when the sun left her. She could hear wolves and other animals about, but they did not stray into the light. I wish Bull were here, she thought miserably. Bitter regret brought a grimace to her face. Her explosion had most likely injured the others, possibly even killed them. And if it had left them unharmed, they were likely wondering where she was. She had just left them so carelessly, run off to save herself.

We’ll find them in the morning, Ethira told herself. She couldn’t have run that far. They likely camped near the battlefield, and would be searching for her in the morning as well. Comforted, she kept her eyes open for any sort of cave or niche she could camp in for the night. Sleeping in the trees was out of the question in her current state

But, she found no such place. Hours and hours she wandered the seemingly endless forest, finding nothing that could protect her from predators for the night. The baying of wolves behind her made her shiver. Had they found her blood trail?

The wolves followed, drawing ever closer. A few choice swears escaped her lips as she caught sight of the first beast lingering just out of the staff light. She gripped her staff tightly, prepared to make a stand as the rest of the pack began to circle her.

“Face me if you dare, cowards,” Ethira hissed, a flame bursting to life at the tip of her staff. “I haven’t got all night.”

[elizahgodswood]

Character Codex: Ethira Lavellan

Things are quieter now that you are gone. The children miss you and your stories, Lethalan. The Keeper sends her love, and hopes that you are doing well. The clan is sadder without you here.

We heard of the attack on haven. Your ambassador sent us word once you had reached safety. I am glad you are all right. It seems that this is a path truly are destined to follow. I just hope it has a happy ending.

Lessons with the Keeper are much less fun without you here to practice, or help me tutor the younger ones. Talaeia and Ariala miss you greatly. Even Kiili admits that he has noticed the effect of your absence and it weighs upon him. 

Taliso misses his cousin, and those sweet berries you always bring to him from your trips in the forest for herbs. Assan sends his love, and wishes it had been him sent instead of you. I think he’s jealous, honestly. You know how he’s been longing to explore for years, but the Keeper can’t afford to spare him, and I couldn’t bear him being beyond the fold of the clan.Things are not safe anymore with the unrest down south.

I hear things have been going well for the Inquisition. It makes my heart glad to know that your task is going well. Perhaps you will be done soon, and back safely in the arms of the clan. Creators, I hope so. 

I’ve heard rumors of a flat ear you’ve been keeping company with. The Keeper seems to have ignored them, but I know you better. He’s a mage, yes? And he’s good to you, right? Don’t go giving your heart to the wrong people, Lethalan. I’d hate to see you heart broken.

Please, be safe, Lethalan. I will pray for you. 

Your cousin, Sulahn’nehn

~A letter to the Inquisitor

[elizahgodswood]

Ace Appreciation Week?

So, I'm working more on Faded and decided nobody really knows a whole lot about Ethira, so I'm dedicating a week to my solavellan pairing as of monday. She is Asexual, so if anybody wants to send me solavellan prompts, I will not accept anything nsfw.

[elizahgodswood]

Get to Know the OCs

Tonight on “Get to Know the OCs” I’m gonna post the nickname Varric probs would have given all my quisies

Assan is Stretch, because he is a very tol elf, standing at about 5′11″ (180 cm)

Ethira is Smokey, because she is my baby fire mage. 

Sulahn’nehn is Peach, because she’s literally the sweetest thing ever.

Judeas is Thunder, because his voice is deep and ya better watch out when he lets out that battle cry. 

Wara is Shiny, because she obsesses over keeping the coverings on her horns polished.

[elizahgodswood]

Fading Lights

Solas x Ethira Lavellan

The candles on the desk were burned to stubs, their wicks just minutes away from drowning in the melted wax. Ethira needed to get more, but she kept forgetting. The thought quickly left her mind as she dipped the quill in the ink and dragged it against the edge of the inkwell. She returned to her writing, despite the dull ache in her wrist from the repetitive movement. A blotch of ink fell upon the parchment, drawing an agitated hiss from her lips. She set her eagle feather quill down and uttered a small spell to drawn the excess ink out of the paper. She dropped the floating pellets of ink back into the inkwell and examined the letter she’d been slaving over. Hours of writing, several drafts, even more completed letters completely scrapped, were all piled in the unlit fireplace. She wanted it to be perfect for its delivery, to prove that a dalish elf could be just as eloquent as an Orlesian Comte.

A pair of fingers snapped behind her. A fire roared to life in the grate, eager flames licking at the balled up bits of paper. Ethira paid no mind, instead running a hand through her hair as she reread her letter.

Solas shook his head at the sight of her, hunched over her desk, slaving away at a letter that had undoubtedly been flawless the first time. On silent feet, he crossed the room, standing behind his tense friend as she tugged at her hair, grumbling to herself. The parchment she was reading was covered in elegant, scrolling writing. Her penmanship was flawless, graceful and neat. Her letter was formal, professional and direct. And yet it was obvious she hated it.

“You’ve done enough,” Solas said gently, pulling the roll of parchment away and rolling it up.

“It’s garbage.”

“It’s perfect.”

“Solas-”

“-When will you learn to stop being hypercritical of yourself, Ethira? The letter is fine. And you should be in bed.”

Ethira turned her chair around and looked up at him. He placed a single finger under her chin, looking down at her tired, anxious face. He gave her that ever so soft smile that never failed to make her smile. It changed the look of his entire face, the way those eyes crinkled ever so slightly, eyebrows raised, lips curling in a small but noticeable way.

“I’m so tired, Solas.”

He pulled her to her feet. She yawned and wrapped her arms around his middle, exhaustion taking over. He buried his face in her honey blond hair, inhaling the familiar scent of parchment, leather and smoke. It was her scent, an odd mixture but comforting.

“You’re going?” She asked as he set her on the edge of the bed. She looked up at him with sleepy eyes, hand reaching out for his. Her fiery eyes were dim like the candles on her desk. He took her hand in his, planting a soft kiss on her knuckles.

"Only while you dream," He said softly as the candles went out.

[elizahgodswood]

In Your Arms

Rotting, water-logged fingers reached from the water’s depths, grasping eagerly at her cloak. A shriek escaped Ethira’s lips as more hands appeared, dragging her down into the water. She seared off the hands that pulled at her, trying to escape. But more hands replaced the ones she burned away. Down they pulled her, into the murky, dark waters they called home. Ethira stared up at the moon shining above, reaching for it as though it would be her saving grace. Cold night air kissed her hand as it broke the surface, an idle attempt to grab onto something, anything that might save her from her watery death. The heat was rapidly leaving her body. Panic robbed her of oxygen as she thrashed, trying to kick free of the murderous hands dragging her down, down to the bottom of their endless dark pool.

A strong hand gripped her as her fingers slipped beneath the surface of the water. A dark figure hovered above the water’s surface, pulling her back, back to life, back to safety. She coughed and gasped as her head broke the surface, air filling her starving lungs. 

“Ethira...”

The walls of her bedroom greeted her as she opened her eyes. A hand touched her cheek. She batted it away, fear and confusion running wild. She fought against the arms that pulled her in, clawing, punching. 

“Vhenan, be still; you’re safe now,” Solas said gently, pinning her arms to her chest as he pulled her to his. “It was only a dream.” 

Ethira looked up at his face as the warmth of his bare skin radiated against her cheek. He was staring down at her in mild concern, brow furrowed ever so slight. Her tense muscles relaxed as her ears honed in on the sound of his heart beat. She dared not close her eyes. Even blinking brought back vivid images of rotten flesh and dark water, haunted by faces of those she had killed when all she wanted was to protect them.

She gave Solas a small push, trying to separate herself from him, wanting to be alone, to cry herself back to sleep as she had been the last few nights. But he did not let her worm away from him. He held her tightly to him, silent, but firm in his stance; she would not be alone. Not if he could help it. 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Solas, please-”

“No.”

Se rolled to the side as she wriggled from his arms, but they found her again, pulling her back into their loving embrace. Hot tears stung at her eyes; she hated herself for what she had done, for being unable to accept his reassurance, his affection, for desiring solitude when it only dragged her down further. 

“You pulled me out, didn’t you?” Ethira mumbled after a while of silence. She had resigned herself to sharing his company. His heat pressed against her back was oddly comforting, as were the arms tenderly wrapped around her waist, fingers intertwined with hers. It was not the first time he had slipped into her dreams to save her.

“I could not stand by and watch you drown,” He whispered, giving her hand a squeeze. He planted a tender kiss on her cheek. “Your mistakes haunt you. We cannot always save ourselves from what lies within. Sometimes, we require a helping hand.” 

“I suppose that is true,” Ethira said.

“Ar lath ma, emma lath...”

[elizahgodswood]

Faded: Teaser

Been hard at work on the new fic. Here's a shot bit of what I've got so far. Her whole body when rigid and numb as the blade impaled her. White hot pain, yet the blade was ice cold. Ethira stared at the sword sticking clean through her in surprise, as though it was a fantastic illusion. The red templar snarled victoriously at her. “Creators, no,” Ethira whispered. “Not today. Not now.” She stared into the eyes of the templar, so dark and twisted and red. Hatred filled her as she stared down her assailant defiantly. He would not have her today. No one would until Corypheus laid slain. Anger like a roaring fire boiled, threatening to spill over, overwhelming, wild, whirling like a storm. Ethira gave into the sudden torrent of energy, afraid that holding it in would kill her. The templar’s smirk faltered. In an instant, the two were blown apart as an explosion consumed the battlefield. Ethira lost her senses as she flew through the air: which way was up, and which way down? She couldn't hear, and the world was just a blurry haze of green, brown, and red. If she screamed when the blade wrenched from her side, she couldn't tell. A sharp blow to her back snapped her back to her senses. She stared up at the canopy of the forest, dazed. She couldn't breathe, could barely hear over the ringing in her ears. Every nerve was on fire, screaming in agony. Despite the shock and the pain, she managed to scramble to her feet. Her staff was nearby. Grabbing it firmly in her hands, she fled into the forest, hand clutching her side as she went. Nothing tempted her to look back. She needed as much distance between her and the battle as possible. Before long, her legs decided she’d run enough. With a violent jerk, her legs gave way. She fell face first onto the mulch ground, mind fogged with exhaustion and pain. But still her instincts told her to flee, to find shelter and tend to her wounds. She forced herself to her knees. The staff that saved her life countless times would have to save her once more. With gritted teeth she dragged herself up again. One slow step at a time, she continued on, using her staff to help her stay upright. It felt like hours that she had been walking. Undoubtedly she had left a blood trail. Fear of being followed by predators was only outweighed by her desire to survive. Never had she experienced such primal survival needs. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off though. Her limbs were beginning to scream with fatigue. The sword wound was screaming again, growing worse with every step. Her vision was swirling, fading in and out of clarity. She could feel her heart beating in the back of her head. Her breath hitched painfully with every inhale. Her legs gave way a second time. Too exhausted to go on, she let out a weak, pathetic groan. Her confidence as a mage was not enough to save her from this. Why hadn’t she paid attention in battle? This would not have happened if she had just been more careful. But Solas was being overwhelmed. She couldn't just stand by and watch him die.

[elizahgodswood]

NEW FIC ALERT

After jostling around with my flash fic ideas, I decided to elaborate on one and make it longer. Faded follows Ethira about around a far-flung corner of the Hinterlands. After an ambush by the red templars, Ethira is badly wounded and separated from the group. For weeks, she wanders about, suffering unlucky stroke after unlucky stroke while looking for the others. I will not, however, say how it ends (obviously she lives but yeah).

[elizahgodswood]

In My Time of Need

The air was insufferably hot, and yet she still trembled beneath the layers of blankets. Miske was curled up on the pillow beside her, purring loudly as he napped. Thankfully, he seemed to sense that Ethira was in no mood to have him draped across her. 

Ethira raised a hand to her mouth as she coughed. She blew her nose for the umpteenth time, wincing as her already raw skin was chaffed even more. This is the last time I agree to watch Taliso. 

She had agreed to watch her little cousin, thinking that it would be no trouble at all. Sulahn’nehn wanted to have Assan watch him, but he was away on business, and Dorian was the last person she wanted watching her son. So, Ethira had offered to watch him while she and Cullen went away for a few days. That, it seemed, was where she went wrong. 

Taliso ended up coming down with a cold. A cold that promptly infected her as well. Cole tried to help, but there was only so much he could do. In the end, he went to Solas for help.

"He's on his way."

Cole appeared on the chest at the end of the bed. Miske mewed at him, rolling onto his back and heaving out a sigh.

"You didn't need to fetch him. I'm well enough to care for myself," Ethira said gently.

"Limbs shaking with cold, but the inside burns. Head throbs and mind is slow. Whole body aches when I move."

Ethira sneezed, sending a dull throb up her sinuses. She took a sip if the ice water on her side table and let out a miserable sigh. She hated to bother Solas on one of his days off, but she refused to ask anyone else to come take care of her. Vivienne would make a convenient excuse; she wouldn't want to get sick either. Sera was off doing who knew what, undoubtedly getting into trouble with her gang. Iron Bull would gladly come, but she didn't want to ask him to. His home remedies were often a bit strong and consisted of strong liquor and bitter herbs that burned the taste-buds clean off her tongue.

"Cole?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Cole looked up over the brim of his hat and smiled softly. His eyes never wavered when he made eye contact. They stared knowingly, as though he could see into someone's soul. Which, in fact, he could. 

The crunch of tires against pavement announced Solas’ arrival. She sighed, embarrassed that he actually came to take care of her. Miske meowed and leapt from the bed, trotting out of the room with his thick bushy tail held high. She heard the door open and close. Miske meowled loudly from the hallway. A few seconds later, he reappeared. Solas followed, giving her a sympathetic smile as he entered the room.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Ethira said in a hoarse voice. 

“You need rest, Vhenan. It is no trouble,” Solas said gently.

Miske leapt up on the bed and resumed his spot on the pillows, purring loudly once more. Solas gently kissed her forehead. His eyebrows twitched slightly as he thought for a moment. 

“You need some hot lemon tea and a bowl of soup,” He said. 

“Solas, you don’t need to-”

“Rest, Ethira,” Solas said sternly, getting up and walking towards the door. Ethira watched him go, guilt gnawing at her. She always pushed him away when she felt he got too close. She knew it bothered him, but not overly so. He did the same to her. There was a constant push and pull between them, a constant dance of fear of losing the other, and a fear of loving them.

“Solas?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Hamin, emm’asha.”

“Na nuvenin, ma vhenan.”

Solas slipped from the room. Ethira stared after him, a warmth flooding her face. He was always too gentle with her.

want more? click here for a full list of all my fan fictions

[elizahgodswood]

About the Character: Ethira Lavellan

My solavellan fics are few in number, so we don’t know much about Ethira. Since it’s her day today, I thought I’d post a tidbit about my little fire mage.

I canon Ethira as an asexual. Her relationship with Solas is romantic, but not physical. No tragic backstory to explain why she won’t ‘do the do’ with the Dread Wolf. She just flat out does not have a sex drive. The others are often perplexed, as many are about Ace people and our sexuality. But she takes it in her stride, often saying that her love for Solas transcends base physical desires. She love his soul, loves his personality. She doesn’t need to have sex with him to prove that she cares for him.

But, she does keep him at a bit of a distance. She senses something different about him, something that makes her uneasy. She sees his insecurities about commitment, mirroring her own commitment issues. when Solas leaves her, she is a bit crestfallen, but does not brood over it. She accepts it and goes on; she knew it wouldn’t last from the get go. 

Ethira puts duty first. She takes her roll as Inquisitor very seriously, making sure to look out for the people, not just the politicians funding and aiding the inquisition. She maneuvers the court and the Game with ease, relying on her sharp wit and skill at finding loopholes and closing them. She relies on Vivienne and Dorian for contacts, and keeps Josephine well supplied to do her job as well as she possibly can.

Cole is pretty much a keystone in her relationship with Solas. Cole adores the both of them, and does his best to help them to be happy, conveying messages that they can’t put to words. 

I headcanon that Ethira receives a large white cat from Vivienne as a gift. Miske quickly becomes fat, and Cole loves to play with him. He’s lazy, cuddly, and hates Dorian for absolutely no reason. 

[elizahgodswood]

Solavellan AU Fics: Vote for your Faves!

Today is Solavellan day! Here’s today’s list of Follower’s-Pick Fics! Vote for your fave fic idea and I’ll write it out. Feel free to submit fic prompts and I’ll write those out too, my Ocs or not. 

The Book Date

Ethira and Solas spend a day in a bookstore. Cute fluff ensues.

The Awkward, Temporary Roommate (written)

Dorian stays the night after being too drunk to drive home. His questions make both Ethira and Solas very uncomfortable.

The Sleepover

After a rough day at work, Ethira crashes at Solas’ house. Cute, cuddly fluff.

Fine Wines 

Ethira makes Solas blush after having one too many wine samples after wine-tasting with Vivienne. 

Window Shopping

Ethira and Solas spend a day walking about. Simple, but sweet. 

[elizahgodswood]

Peaceful Silence

"You two are an odd couple," Dorian said as Ethira sat by the fire. The elf looked up at him and frowned. 

 "How so?" She glanced back at the tent she shared with Solas, then settled her gaze on the fire. They were still learning each other; it was only natural that there would be a sort of awkwardness between them. Ethira doubted that awkwardness would ever go away. She cared for him a great deal, but dared not get too close. She was the Inquisitor; all of Thedas needed her. 

"Well he's hardly what I call romantic." 

"He has his moments." 

"Oh, do tell. Because sitting together reading is hardly romantic to me," The mage sneered. 

Ethira smiled softly, "Those times are my favorites, you know." 

"Really? Sitting in silence is romantic to you?" 

"Romance isn't all kissing and poetry, Dorian," Ethira laughed quietly. "There's more to love than physical attraction. We may sit in silence, but being near him is enough for me."

"Surely there more to your relationship than just studying together."

"Sometimes he tells me about the fade, or places that he's been, spirits that he's met. We take walks amongst the trees-" 

"Let me guess, silent walks?" 

"How else does one listen to the forest?" 

Dorian snorted. Ethira shrugged. She didn't feel like her words would ever make sense to him anyway. Her relationship with Solas was a comfortable one. Neither of them truly knew where it was going, or where it would lead, but they were taking their time. She was not one to rush, especially with matters like this.

want more? Click here for a full list of all my solavellan fan fiction