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imaredshirt · 3 months ago

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Give me a Stan who thinks Fiddleford doesn't know how to throw a punch, much less defend himself in a fight with your average goon, so one morning he takes it upon himself to show the nerd a few basic jabs and hooks and maybe an uppercut or two behind the cabin, because let's face it, there's gonna be a time when Stan can't be there to take a hit for the guy or defend his nerd butt. So he's gonna teach him some stuff for his own peace of mind.

Fiddleford just kind of genially goes along with it, following Stan around the back of the cabin and watching with hands on his hips and a smile as Stan gets into position.

"This is one of the most basic punches in the world, so pay attention, 'cause I'm not gonna show you again," Stan says, knees slightly bent and fists up.

Fidds nods. "You've got my full attention, Stanley."

Stan isn't sure if he's imagining the way Fidds is eyeing him up and down, but he automatically flexes his arms a little more than he needs to. Up ahead, Ford is sitting on a tree stump and taking samples of the air or something (Stan had stopped listening to Ford's explanation once his words went from interesting to Big Science Shit that Stanley Does NOT Care About) and he's watching them with this amused grin, rolling his eyes skyward when Stan won't stop flexing and showing his arms off.

Stan ignores him and rolls his shoulders before jabbing his fists forward in a quick one-two. "There - you catch that?"

Fidds has got his arms crossed now and gives Stan a thumbs up. "Sure did!"

"See, just like this," Stan says, and shows him again despite saying earlier that he wouldn't.

He shows him a few more punches, going over each one a couple times before telling the engineer to mirror him, even getting in close to adjust the guy's scrawny arms and balled fists. He's being real professional about it and everything and doesn't understand why Ford keeps grinning and shaking his head at them, which is making him a little incensed but he stamps it down because Fidds is watching him with this nerdy, dopey smile while letting himself be maneuvered around and he's gotta learn to defend himself 'cause Stan can't stand the thought of some jerkwad wiping that smile off the nerd's face.

"See," he says near the end of the lesson, tapping his fist right against Fidds’s chin. "Do it right and your fist'll hit right here."

Fidds tilts his head a fraction at the touch. "Well alright then, seems easy enough."

"Yeah, like I said, if you do it right. Gimme your hand-" he takes Fidds’s wrist and taps the guy's balled fist against his own stubbly jaw. "Right here. You got that?"

Fidds nods. "Sure do!"

"Good." Stan drops Fidds’s wrist and gets into position again. "Then come on - lay one on me."

Fidds pulls back and blinks at him. "Come again?"

"Hit me!" Stan taps his jaw. "Right here!"

The guy suddenly looks nervous and galnces over at Ford for help. "Hit you? Stanley, I don't think-"

This is what Stan means. Fidds isn't always gonna be able to look to him or Ford to save him. He gets this weird, uncomfortable feeling in his chest at the thought of Fidds facing off against some asshat on his own, and that alone is enough to keep him from letting the guys off easy, if only to get rid of the weird feeling. Maybe a bit selfish but he doesn't care.

"Ah, come on, one little punch ain't gonna hurt ya, Fidds."

"I'm not worried about me," Fidds says, and then frowns when Stan barks a laugh.

"You think you're gonna hurt ME?"

Fidds is still frowning when Ford calls over in an amused, warning tone, "This is not a good idea, Stanely!"

"Just worry about your air test or whatever and leave us alone," Stan calls back. Ford shrugs and scribbles something in his journal, and when Stan turns back to Fidds, Fidds is finally getting into position.

He looks unsure, watching Stan nervously as Stan stands before him with his arms crossed.

"Hey, not bad form - you ready?"

"Well, I suppose so," Fidds says, accent coming in a little thicker than before. "Stan, if you're sure, I should probably warn ya-"

"Don't tell me nothing, just punch me!"

Fidds presses his lips into a line and throws his fist - and jabs Stan on the chin just hard enough to tilt Stan's head half an inch to the side.

"That's it?" Stan guffaws and shakes his head. "That was barely a tap!"

"I don't wanna hurt ya!" Fidds says, sounding so conflicted that Stan gets this urge to pull him into a headlock and ruffle his hair and drive the worry away.

Instead he riles him up.

"Please," he says. "Fidds, look - one of these days I'm not gonna be there to take a hit for you, and then what're you gonna do? Just let some jerk punch ya around?"

Fidds looks slightly perplexed. "Where is this all comin from? No, Stanley, I am NOT gonna just let some jerk punch me around."

"Good! So you gotta learn to defend yourself!" Fidds still looks unsure, so Stan tries a different angle. "Okay, how 'bout this - what if some jerks are beating up on me and Ford, huh? You're just gonna let em?"

Fidds looks up. "What? No, I am not!"

"You're gonna defend us?"

"Dangnabbit, Stan - of course I am!"

"Not gonna let us get our teeth kicked out?"

"What!? No!"

"Then show me!" Stan slaps a hand against his own chin. "Right here, come on! I'm some jerk who just threw your friend Stan to the ground and I'm about to kick him in the gut, what're ya gonna-"

The blow lands hard. Stan's head jerks to the side and he's thrown off balance, and he sees actual stars before his vision clears again and he realizes he's crumpled on the ground. His head swims as hands pull him around onto his back.

"Mother o pearl!" Fidds gasps. He's got his hands on Stan's face, careful touch at complete odds with the punch he'd just landed in the same place. "Are you alright? I am so sorry! I hit ya and you weren't even ready and - you just got me so riled up and I tried to tell ya and I shoulda said earlier instead o just lettin ya show me all those moves, but I just wanted to, well - goddangit, Ford, this ain't funny."

Ford's laughing as he comes up behind them, looking down at where Stan is staring kinda dazedly up at Fidds, who's kneeling by his side in the cool grass. "We did try to tell him, Fiddleford."

"Tell me what?" Stan demands. His jaw is already aching but Fidds’s hands feel kinda good so he doesn't tell him to move.

"Fiddleford was a boxing champion back back in his hometown," Ford says.

Stan blinks. "Bwuh-?"

"Not much of a champion," Fidds says with a wince, but he's blushing a bit as he goes on, "It was never anythin official, but - well, I did win more than a few matches at some backyard parties, see, and - well, people usually don't think I got any hittin power or can defend myself, but my Ma's been all too happy to teach me since I was little, and-"

The guy's rambling, and Stan quits being able to understand what he's saying half way through cause the accent is coming in thick and Ford’s chuckling and standing there looking proud of his best friend and Stan’s a little worried that he's still jarred from the hit, cause when he looks at Fidds kneeling there, one hand one Stan's chest and the other bashfully rubbing his neck while he rambles on - he's still seeing stars.

Later, while Stan sits in the living room with an bag of ice in his jaw and Fiddleford sitting next to him, still rambling about all the times he'd knocked a few guys into the mud in some backcountry hoedown get-together or whatever, Stan can lean back and relax and grin, knowing Fidds is gonna be just fine.

He can't wait to teach him wrestling.

#woke up at 2 in the morning and had this dire need to write something cliche and fluffy apparently #stanford pines #fiddlestan #fiddleford mcgucket #stanley pines #mystery trio #gf #ok back to sleeo now #i hope this all makes sense when i wake up in three hours for work #look i wrote a thing #AU #i havent been able to get enough of these three dorks im sorry #i just...love mystery trio in the 80s AU so muhmcg #much #damnit #this got a lot longer than i thought #who needs sleep anyway i will function with the power of coffee #will eventually clean this up and move it over to ao3

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lafaiette · 2 months ago

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Based on this post by @wendynerdwrites: Solas treating everyone at the Lighthouse except Varric like complete morons, but becoming a puppy as soon as Lavellan shows up.

Spoilers for Veilguard!

Davrin was used to facing dangerous situations - the life of a Warden was not an easy one -, but no fight against darkspawn, no exploration of dark, damp roads could compare to the horror of sharing a place with the worst enemy of his people's lore.

Solas, the Dread Wolf, was... a cold man. No unnecessarily cruel like old Dalish legends described him, but certainly ruthless, ready to make sacrifices if it could help finally defeat the Evanuris.

There was a certain distance in his eyes and tone whenever he spoke with the new guests of his old base - that, and badly hidden rage, boiling just below the surface. He was haunted by the failed ritual, by Rook's intervention, by Varric's wound, by years of regrets.

Davrin's superiors had always insisted on a particular point: don't fight battles you can't win. Giant ogre making its way through a narrow tunnel? Run, or you will die under the rubble. Too many darkspawn surrounding you and your fellow Grey Wardens? Retreat, and plan a better strategy.

The Dread Wolf haunts your dreams, turning them into nightmares? Be respectful, da'len, do not enrage him further, and avoid him.

So Davrin did just that. He greeted Solas, but didn't dare ask him questions. He wasn't scared of speaking up in his presence, but he did so with an even tone, not really wanting to attract his attention.

Unfortunately, his being a Grey Warden was something Solas simply couldn't understand - or forgive? -, for the Dread Wolf once found him in the courtyard, taking care of Assan's feathers, and spoke to him without hesitation, without mercy.

"That is a beautiful creature."

Assan chirped happily - he was one of the few ones in the Lighthouse, Varric and Manfred included, who wasn't scared of Fen'Harel.

"Ah, thank you." Davrin nodded at him, then went back to brushing the griffon's feathers. "He's growing up so fast."

A moment of silence, then Solas spoke again, a thin veil of ice in his voice:

"I could not help but notice he fights with you."

"Well... Yes?" Davrin didn't turn back, increasing his focus on the least oily feathers, the ones that needed more care. "Grey Wardens and griffons fight together. We're supposed to build a bond."

"Why would you bring your beloved companion into battle?" Solas sounded furious, now. "Among the Blight and the darkspawn?"

"Because that's what Grey Wardens must do." Davrin did turn around this time, hoping his glare directed at Solas wouldn't condemn him to a week of nightmares. "It's not like Assan fights at my side for the whole time. He flies above the battlefield, and attacks only when I call him."

"Because he is still young. But he will join you once he is older, and ready, and your bond strong." Solas shook his head, distaste clear on his face. "And then he will risk getting blighted, poison in his veins."

"It's terrible, I know," Davrin agreed, for the thought of losing his friend in battle had kept him awake many nights in a row, "but it's a risk we must run if we want to fight the darkspawn."

"Did you ask Assan if he wants to run this risk?" Solas arched an eyebrow. "Or did you decide for him?"

"What-"

Solas walked away, uttering a "tsk", and Davrin was left there, open-mouthed, shock and pain making his head buzz.

Assan let out a sad squeak, bumping his beak against his cheek.

--------

"You are doing it wrong."

"O-Oh?"

Bellara turned around, the elven device she was tinkering with falling on the ground. Solas, standing under the doorframe, looked at it, then at her, and she shrinked under his cold, almost disappointed gaze.

"What... What I was doing wrong?"

Oh, she hated how thin her voice sounded, but she couldn't help it! He was one of her gods! The deity of lies, trickery, and rebellion, the creator of the Veil, the reason why a breach in the Fade had appeared in the sky ten years prior! He scared her!

"Everything." Solas narrowed his eyes, then walked away, heading to his original destination, leaving her there, fuming and confused, angry at him and herself, angry at the device and its secrets, angry at her mind for not being able to understand them.

She picked it up from the floor, but didn't tinker with it again, leaving it on the table, like a forgotten relic.

--------

Harding gently closed the door of Varric's room, so that he wouldn't wake. The wound was getting better, but he was still weak, frail. His fever had broken just the day before.

She almost jumped out of her skin when Solas walked out from the shadows just around the corner - seriously, wasn't a lighthouse supposed to be well-lit?

"How is he?" he asked, almost whispering, dark sorrow on his face.

Harding glared at him, torn between telling him to shove it and answering in a civil way.

In the end, her polite side won, prompted by the memories of their days in the Inquisition, when Solas would accompany the Inquisitor in all her trips and explorations.

He would often narrate beautiful stories at dinner, when the Inquisitor decided to stop at the main campsites where Harding was stationed. He was always kind with the Inquisition soldiers, and once he had complimented Harding's study of a map.

But he had hurt the Inquisitor, and now Varric, and she found forgiveness hard to find in her frightened, enraged heart.

"He's alive." She shook her head. "He's sleeping now, so come visit him later."

"And the wound?"

"It's healing, but I don't like the look of the skin around it. It's getting inflamed, I think." She sighed, making a mental list of all the plants in her room. "I might have something to help him, but I'll need to check and-"

"My magic may help."

Her rude side won over the polite one. Oh, how her mother would scold her if she knew.

"Your magic? I'm sorry, but your magic is what caused all this in the first place!"

She approached him, teeth gritted, fists clenched, and he didn't move, staring down at her with that cold pain that morphed his face into a pale, ancient expanse of regret.

"Your magic almost destroyed the world ten years ago! Your magic almost destroyed it now! Your magic maimed the Inquisitor-"

Something passed over his face - more pain and sorrow -, and she realized she had gone too far, for his next words were too controlled, too calm. He was about to explode just like she had.

"Enough, child of the Stone."

"How dare you!"

All the pain, fear, and shock Harding had packed away in her heart - like many jagged rocks she wanted pick and examine in peace in the quiet of the room - erupted from her. Her eyes burned.

"How dare you call me like that, after what my people lost!"

"Your people are not the only ones who lost everything."

"Well, at least we're not the ones trying to destroy this world to bring it all back!"

She stormed away, hoping her outburst hadn't caused Varric to awaken.

--------

"He's here!"

"What?"

Lucanis looked up from the pot of soup he was preparing for lunch, and lo and behold, the Dread Wolf was indeed there.

Spite respected him and feared him in equal measure. He was the only one who could speak with the demon in a real, coherent way, and make it listen.

Sometimes Lucanis envied him.

"May I help you?" he said, stirring the pot after adding more salt. "It won't be ready for one more hour, I think."

"Spirit, how are you feeling?"

"It's not a spirit." Lucanis spat out before Spite could answer. It was standing next to him, not slouching as usual, but standing tall, almost proud. "It's a demon."

"That's a matter of debate."

"A matter of- it's possessing me!"

"It does not wish to be with you just as much as you do not want it with you." Solas glared at him, before setting his eyes on Spite again. His expression changed, turning kinder, more patient.

"How are you feeling?"

"... Constricted."

Lucanis gawked at it.

"Oh, for... Constricted by what? I bring you everywhere!"

Solas ignored him. "Have you tried shaping the world around you? We are in the Fade here, after all."

"I have, but it doesn't listen! Not as long as I am..."

Spite growled and glared at Lucanis, who glared back, stirring his minestrone with more rage the recipe requested.

"I see. I promise I will try to find a way to help you. It might be difficult, due to your particular circumstances, but..."

"You want to help it?" Lucanis dropped the spoon into the pot, staring at the tall elf with disbelief. "Do you know what this fiend did to me while we were locked away in Renata's prison? What about helping me get rid of it?"

"It tortured you because it was tortured. It still is."

Solas' eyes looked cold even under the light coming from the fireplace. Lucanis realized he would probably never convince him, nor understand him.

"Bah!" He went back to his dish. "No wonder nobody here likes you, lupo."

Solas went away, quiet, his steps the lightest Lucanis had ever heard.

--------

"You remind me of an old friend."

Taash looked up from the axe they were polishing, hoping they had heard it wrong.

Solas was checking some supplies. They hadn't exchanged a single word when he had entered, and Taash was glad of it, because they really didn't know how to act around that guy. Plus, their mood wasn't exactly the best these days, after a hard defeat against a particularly stubborn dragon that had badly burned their leg.

But now, this.

"How old, exactly? Millennia old? Decade old?"

"Decade. Do you know the Bull's Chargers?"

"I heard of 'em. Mercenary group led by the Tal-Vashoth who joined the Inquisition, yeah?"

Solas nodded, still checking the contents of an armory chest.

"So... I remind you of that guy?"

"Sometimes, yes."

Taash blinked. And waited.

"Why? Just because we're both Tal-Vashoth?"

"No." Solas barely looked at them as he closed the chest. "He also deeply admired dragons."

"Oh. Sounds like a cool guy, then." Taash grinned, dipping the cloth into a pot of oil and starting to polish a new area of their axe. "I bet he'd have enjoyed fighting that dragon from the other day."

"Oh, yes. But unlike you, he would have definitely prevailed."

"Why, you little piece of shit!"

They rose, furious and embarrassed, cheeks on fire and axe ready to be used, but he had already left.

--------

"What is that supposed to be?"

Neve almost dropped her pencil.

"A map?" She narrowed her eyes at him. She had tracked him down in Minrathous, yes, but he had still escaped her, in a certain way. She hated that.

"Of course it is a map." Solas' tone was as icy as hers. He knew it was her fault Varric and Rook had found him. "But what are you drawing on it?"

"Possible places where the Evanuris may be hiding."

"Hiding?" He snarled, letting out a disgusted noise. "They are not hiding. They are preparing, setting the stage, gathering power-"

"One more reason to find them as soon as possible, then."

"-And those are not the places they would choose for such a purpose."

Neve felt her right eye twitch.

"Well, since you know them so well," Solas' face turned into a mask of pure outrage at that, "perhaps you could kindly share your opinion so that we may find them sooner."

"How am I supposed to know? Don't you think I would have already done something, had I known where they are?"

He scoffed at her meticulous drawings and walked away. She gritted her teeth, frustrated, then looked back at the map, feeling almost embarrassed.

She refused to erase her marks, though.

--------

Emmrich believed himself to be a patient man, but oh, every time the Dread Wolf was involved he could just feel his patience run thin.

"Manfred, could you please hand me that book? Thank you."

A groan, rattling of bones, and Emmrich smiled.

"Indeed, it is quite interesting. I will give it back to you as soon as I'm done with these notes."

He heard footsteps coming from the staircase, but he ignored them, too engrossed in his research. He heard Manfred prepare more tea, sure it was one of their friends come to visit, but then...

"This is wrong."

Startled, Emmric raised his eyes. Solas was looking at Manfred, watching him choose the right leaves.

"I assure you, Manfred's tea knows no equal. Everyone in the Mourn Watch loves it!"

Solas glared at him, jaw tight, and the very air around him seemed to quiver. Emmrich realized he had said the wrong thing, and slightly bowed his head.

"I apologize if my words offended you, Solas. Is there something I can help you with?"

"You are torturing this poor spirit."

Manfred groaned, shaking his head, and Solas scoffed, shocked by his words.

"This is not your place! You are not supposed to be bound to a corpse!"

"I would let Manfred make that decision."

"How could he do that? You already did it for him."

A pang of pain, like the sting of a thorn in his heart, then Emmrich took a deep breath.

"You are mistaken. This is what Manfred wants."

Solas couldn't hide his disgust, his contempt, as he stared at him. Then he turned to Manfred, sorrow and grief replacing his ire, and he shook his head.

"This is wrong," he repeated, and Emmrich wondered whether he was still talking about Manfred or everything else, the Lighthouse filled with strangers, the Evanuris running free, the world on the brink of destruction.

"I am sorry." Emmrich said, but Solas ignored him and left the room, his steps heavy like those of the corpses that roamed the Necropolis.

--------

"Tell him to stop!"

"Tell him to leave."

"I can't do this anymore, Rook, I really can't!"

"He criticizes everything. He's always there, judging us, and nothing is ever right!"

"Doesn't he have another base he can use? Or maybe we should move."

"Varric, perhaps you may talk with him?"

"Don't worry." Varric smiled from his bed, tapping his fingers on the heavy blanket Harding had found for him. "I sent words to a certain someone just a few days ago. She will join us tomorrow."

Rook looked at him, confused.

"Who are you talking about?"

Harding gasped, not sure whether to grin like a madwoman or scold Varric for his insane idea.

"You did not!"

"I did." Varric looked extremely satisfied, his smug smile almost hiding the gauntness of his cheeks. "Wear your best outfits, guys - the Inquisitor is coming to visit us."

--------

She stepped out of the main eluvian, and the first thing she did was smile at everyone. And everyone thought she looked young, very pretty, but also sad, and a bit tired.

"Inquisitor."

"It's an honor, Inquisitor Lavellan."

"My lady, thank you for coming."

They bowed to her, except for Harding who got a hug, and she told them all those formalities were not necessary.

"I'm not Inquisitor anymore." Her smile was small, but sincere and warm. "Please just call me Scarlet."

Bellara admired her prosthetic arm, and promised her to show her the special gauntlet she used in battle. Davrin tried not to stare at her bare face, but everyone had heard the rumors - how the Inquisitor had come back to Skyhold after a trip with her beloved Solas, face free from vallaslin, her eyes filled with tears for weeks, her lover staring at her from a distance with grief in his eyes.

"How is Varric?" Worry and sorrow made her look older. "May I see him?"

"Of course. This way."

She didn't try to hide her awe and curiosity as they led her through the Lighthouse to Varric's room. She devoured everything, eyes setting on every minute detail.

She gasped when she saw the murals in the library, and it was clear she was looking for traces of Solas, too. She searched for him with her eyes, hoping to see him appear from behind a door or around the corner.

The more they walked, heading to Varric's room, the more she grew disappointed. Rook hurried to reassure her he wasn't hiding, not this time.

"Solas went to one of his old hideouts to retrieve some useful parchments. He believes they could be useful to track down the Evanuris."

"Oh." She blushed, pleased.

"He should be here soon."

"I see."

She was shaking due to excitement and anxiety. Ten years had passed since their last meeting, after all. Rook and their companions led her gently through her lover's Lighthouse, hoping she could be the change they desperately needed.

She gasped when they brought her outside, in the courtyard, and she stared at the giant wolf statue that stood at its center, right above the Caretaker's workshop, for a long time.

The spirit observed her in silence. She saw it and smiled, greeting it with a bow of her head.

"You are finally here, after all this time," it said, and her smile widened, looking almost impish.

"I never give up."

She hugged Varric with all the delicateness, love, and care of a daughter. He held her true hand as she sat next to his bed, patting it between his calloused ones, and tried to reassure her that he was fine, that he was recovering nicely.

Guilt and pain never left her face as they spoke.

"Shy, it's not your fault." Varric smiled at her, while Davrin and Rook prepared the poultice he needed to apply on his wound twice a day. Emmrich checked his temperature and pulse, and used a spell to soothe his fatigue.

The others stood around, ready to help, wanting to spend more time with that famous figure, with the woman who had stolen the Dread Wolf's heart.

"I never should have sent you and Harding on that mission."

"I would have gone regardless."

"Me too!"

Scarlet sighed, shaking her head.

"Well, then." She tried to smile again. "Tell me everything."

Neve was just about to share her theories about the Evanuris' possible locations, when the door opened.

"Why are you all here? Is Varric alright-"

Solas froze, staring at the Inquisitor, mouth slightly open. He looked on the verge of a panic attack, thought Harding and Bellara; or a heart attack, thought Davrin and Taash; or perhaps even a stroke, thought Lucanis and Neve.

Emmrich thought he looked ready to crumple on the floor and cry.

Scarlet stared back, cheeks red, then she slowly relaxed and gently said:

"Hello, Solas."

He let out an odd sound, something between a sob and a croak. Then he ran away, and they all shared looks with each other, bewildered.

They had never seen him like that. So... vulnerable. Soft. Inoffensive.

"You really tamed him, Inquisitor." Lucanis snorted, earning himself a smack on the arm from Bellara.

"Don't worry, Shy, you will catch him soon enough." Varric said, smiling at the empty space where Solas had stood. "He can't run from you anymore."

--------

Rook gave the Inquisitor one of the best rooms of the Lighthouse. She retired there for an hour or so to recover from her long journey, and in the meantime the other guests went to the dining room to prepare dinner.

"Do you think he's visiting her right now?" Bellara asked, smiling brightly, for she found the whole situation pretty romantic. Harding sighed, shrugging.

"Who knows. Maybe? I don't think so, to be honest. He needs to recover from the shock."

"He's probably hiding in a broom closet." Lucanis snickered while cutting the vegetables for their salad. "Or rehearsing their next conversation."

"Assuming he'll be able to speak this time." Taash mumbled, making Neve chuckle.

The door opened, and Solas entered, looking almost haggard. His eyes scanned the room, and he didn't hide his disappointment when he didn't see the Inquisitor.

It was rare for him to join them at dinner. He would usually eat his food alone, either in his room or in the library.

And it was definitely rarer for him to help them set the table, but he did so this time, making sure to choose the best plates, and placing a bowl of berries and fruits at the centre.

"Don't we have any cake?" he asked, heading to the pantry and glaring at the shelves filled with cheese, bread, and ham. "Not even sweet tarts?"

"I don't think so." Lucanis said. He raised an eyebrow when Solas went back into the dining room, a storm brewing on his face. "Is it for the Inquisitor? I could bake something special next time."

"No." Solas narrowed his eyes. "I will take care of it."

Lucanis swore in Antivan under his breath, ignoring Spite's protests to shut up and let the Dread Wolf be.

The door opened again, and this time the Inquisitor entered. Solas' demeanor changed in an instant - one moment he was a surly, grumpy old elf, the next an excited, timid puppy, looking at her with big eyes, drinking every detail of her.

"Good evening." Scarlet greeted everyone with her warm smile. She blushed when she saw Solas, and repeated, softly: "Good evening."

"Good evening, vhen- Inquisitor."

Her blush deepened, and they stood there, awkward and shy, until Emmrich took pity on them and cleared his throat.

"Lady Scarlet, dinner is almost ready. Where would you like to sit?"

"Oh, I have no preference."

She walked around the table so her back would be to the fireplace and approached the first chair on her right, but Solas anticipated her: he pulled out the chair for her and gently pushed it back until she was comfortable enough.

"Thank you," she said, smiling up at him, and his face turned pink, his eyes the biggest puppy eyes the group had ever seen.

He stood next to her, probably not sure whether she wanted him to sit at her side or not, until she noticed his weird behaviour.

"Solas, are you eating with us?"

"I... Yes."

"Then you should sit." She nodded at the chair next to her, and her smile was gentle, but also a bit amused, and he hurried to do as she said.

"Of course."

He sat down, clearly happy she had given him permission to be at her side, and they were so busy dealing with each other's close proximity, that they didn't see the look Davrin and Neve shared, nor heard Taash's snort and Lucanis' "Maker, aiutaci".

"How was your journey?" Solas asked, fidgeting with the napkin and the cutlery, his tone apparently neutral, but not really.

"Long." Scarlet sighed. "I'm not used to traversing such distances anymore. And I'm not a twenty years old Inquisitor anymore."

"You are beautiful." Solas murmured, and everyone around them froze, studying Scarlet's reaction.

Her blush reached her ears, and she breathed out a soft, flattered laugh.

"Thank you."

"Oh my." Emmrich whispered to Harding as they poured the stew - her mother's original recipe - into each dish. "He is truly smitten."

"If anyone can stop him from being an absolute ass, it's her."

--------

"Aren't you a cutie?"

Scarlet laughed and giggled as Assan chirped and rubbed his body against her legs, looking for pets. She gave them to him, stroking his feathers, his head, and Davrin smiled proudly at the scene.

"I have never seen a griffon before. Are they all as beautiful as you, Assan?"

A negative chirp, the little rascal puffing out his chest, and Scarlet laughed again.

Solas was standing a few paces away, also watching them, awkward and quiet, yearning for her touch. Davrin glanced at him, and his previous fears suddenly evaporated.

"Pity Solas said he might die soon."

"What?"

The Dread Wolf went to them, his strides long and hurried, panic on his paling face.

"I never said such a thing!"

"You said I am risking his life by taking him into battle, where the Blight is." Davrin gave him a flat, cold look. "And I know you're right. I know I'm being selfish, following centuries-old traditions that make little sense to anyone who isn't a Grey Warden. But this is part of our sacrifice, of the grief we must carry."

Solas took a deep breath, visibly torn between arguing with him and not wanting to do so in front of Scarlet. But she intervened, her voice calm and solemn, and Davrin realized she must have spoken like that during her time as Inquisitor, too.

"Once the Evanuris are finally dead and the Blight is no more, you won't have to sacrifice yourselves and your companions anymore."

She stroked Assan's head, cupping his muzzle and looking into his big eyes.

"There will be finally peace, and griffons will be able to fly alongside people without fearing any corruption. Isn't that right, Assan?"

He squeaked happily, and Davrin felt a rush of gratefulness and hope invade his heart. But what most shocked him was Solas' reaction: he stared at Lady Lavellan with big, awed eyes, his expression the most stricken and softest Davrin had ever seen.

"You are right," he said to her, and the Grey Warden blinked, not believing his ears.

"I know!" She grinned at her lover, then went back to petting the griffon, while the Dread Wolf watched her as an once blind man would watch the first sunrise of his life.

--------

"I'm sorry, lethallan, I fear I don't understand how this works yet." Bellara fidgeted with her many pouches. "But...! Let me know if you have any ideas! Two minds are better than one, after all!"

"I'm not an expert by any means." Scarlet shrugged, turning the little elven device in her hands over and over again. "I could ask Solas, if that's alright."

"Oh." Bellara's face fell. She couldn't help it. "That would be... I don't think he would agree."

"What? Why?" Scarlet looked genuinely surprised. "Nonsense, he loves sharing knowledge and helping people learn!"

Bellara felt her face shift into a grimace, the one she would make whenever she ate something sour or her research didn't proceed as smoothly as she liked.

"I'll go look for him- oh, Solas, you're here!"

Scarlet rose from her seat as he appeared from behind the open door - had he been nearby for the whole time, watching them, waiting for her to call him!?

"Could you please help us unlock this? I fear neither me or Bellara know how it works."

"Of course."

There was a warm, pleased smile on his face. Bellara shuddered, not used to such a sight. Scarlet shared some of their theories with him, and he listened, proud and patient, soft and sweet, before gently taking the device from her hands (their fingers brushed, and they both blushed) and showing her how to activate it.

"Just like that!?" Bellara spluttered, shocked by how simple it had been. "You just needed to press it like that!?"

Scarlet gasped, curious and in awe.

"Oh, it's beautiful, it opened like a flower! What does it do?"

"It's a catalogue." Solas used a bit of magic to further activate it. "A small portable archive."

Bellara bit her lips, trying to contain herself, then she acted, unable to stop herself: she snatched the archive out of his hands and stared at every minuscule detail, overjoyed and excited.

"This is incredible! I can't wait to read everything it contains!"

She beamed at the Inquisitor, admiring her even more than before.

"Thank you, lethallan! I was going crazy over this!" She turned to Solas, giving him a flat look, which he returned.

"If only someone had deigned to explain how it worked sooner."

Bellara left, but not before turning around to see Lady Scarlet fold her arms and scold Solas with a simple, but very effective look. Bellara could almost see his ears drop and his shoulders slump.

--------

Lucanis sighed, rolling his eyes.

"My lady, Spite wants you to know you're very beautiful."

Scarlet smiled. He had explained his delicate situation to her, and even though she couldn't see the demon, she acted as if she could.

"Thank you, Spite."

Lucanis frowned, then growled.

"No, you little piece of garbage, I'm not telling her that!"

He grunted when Spite hit him, making his nose bleed again. Scarlet gasped, babbling something.

"Are you alright!? What happened?" Then she turned towards the door and called out: "Solas, come quickly!"

Before he could understand what was happening, Lucanis felt the Dread Wolf's hand on his head. The pressure caused by Spite's outburst vanished, and he could finally think clearly again.

"Oh. That was..." Lucanis stretched his neck. Spite was still with him, of course, but it felt as if he were sleeping, taking a much needed nap.

Scarlet beamed at Solas.

"Thank you."

Solas blushed and returned the smile. Lucanis glared at him, and the lupo had the gall to ignore him, completely enraptured by Scarlet's smile.

"Stronzo figlio di puttana, grandissimo figlio di buona donna..." the Crow muttered for the whole evening while reading on his cot in the pantry.

-------

"Bull would have liked you."

Taash's mouth was set in a thin line.

"Because he liked dragons, too, right?"

"Not just that. He would have loved fighting with you against one. It's clear you deeply respect them, too."

Taash glared at Solas, who was pretending to check the weapons and armors, but was actually accompanying Lady Scarlet wherever she went.

"I couldn't defeat one the other day."

"Oh, that's totally normal!" Scarlet laughed. "We couldn't defeat one in Emprise du Lion the first time we tried either! It almost burned us to a crisp, and Bull and Cole had to carry me and Solas all the way back to camp."

She giggled remembering the scene.

"Do you remember that, Solas?"

He cleared his throat.

"I do."

She laughed again, the old memories of better days making her face glow, and Solas' face as he looked at her was so sickeningly sweet, Taash felt a shiver run down their spine. They had never seen the Dread Wolf act like that.

"Is that right?" they drawled, judging him hard after their last conversation - but he had eyes for Lavellan only.

--------

"Thank you, Manfred. Your tea was delicious."

Manfred rattled happily, and had he been able to blush, he would have done so. Emmrich smiled at the scene.

"He thanks you in return, my lady."

"You can understand him, then?"

"Oh, yes! We hold many interesting conversations. Manfred is an excellent herbalist and alchemist."

"That's wonderful." Scarlet smiled at the skeleton, but then her expression slowly turned into something more pensive, kind of melancholy.

"Are you... happy like this, Manfred?"

He nodded, the green gems of his eyes shining brightly under the lights of Emmrich's study. Scarlet studied him for a second, then her smile returned, filled with trust.

"That's wonderful. I wish you all the best - should you need anything, just let me know, alright? Maybe I could find a way to understand you, too."

Ah, Emmrich could see why Solas loved her so much.

Manfred gurgled a "thank you, my lady", and when Emmrich raised his head to the spiral staircase, he saw Solas watching them, pining and yearning, the rage from their old conversation completely gone, replaced by wonder.

--------

"What about the High Reaches you marked here? I feel like they might be a good hiding place, too."

Neve scoffed despite herself. She wasn't angry at the Inquisitor, of course, but at her lover and his dreadful lack of tact and good manners.

"Solas said the Evanuris aren't hiding, but gathering more power. And that they wouldn't do that in places like this."

She raised an eyebrow when she spotted him on the railing above the library. Maker, he really followed Lady Scarlet everywhere, like a lost puppy.

"Oh." The Inquisitor looked back at the map, worried and deflated. "He's probably right. He knows how they think better than we do."

"That's...!"

Solas walked down the stairs - no, almost ran, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Let me check, vhen- Inquisitor. Perhaps I was mistaken."

Neve's eyebrows reached her hairline.

"You mean here?" he asked, pointing at the range of mountains near Minrathous. His hand slightly hovered over Lady Scarlet's back, almost touching it.

"Yes. It's near Tevinter's capital, so I thought..."

"That is an excellent idea. Yes, they might be commanding their minions from there, close to their main objectives."

Neve snorted, not really angry and annoyed anymore. In fact, she was amused, and she realized she had found one more piece of evidence that proved how smitten, how sappy the Dread Wolf was when it came to Lady Scarlet.

--------

"How can you..." Harding sighed, took a deep breath, and tried again. "How can you look at him, talk with him, without feeling the urge to... to..."

She groaned, tossing a pebble into the pond in her room.

"I love him." Scarlet said, simply, softly. "I know you're very angry, Harding. I am, too. But despite all the rage, all the pain, I love him."

"I know."

Harding looked at their reflections in the shallow water. She looked grumpy, tired, a smudge of soil on her cheek. Lady Scarlet still looked a bit too pale and tired, but it was clear Solas' presence had rejuvenated her.

"If we survive all this..." Harding vaguely gestured at the air to indicate that whole mess. "What are you going to do, Inquisitor?"

"You mean...?"

"With Solas, yes."

"Oh, it's easy!" She grinned, suddenly very cheerful. "Once I save him from himself, the marriage is back on!"

She said that with so much sincerity, with so much candor and innocence, Harding couldn't help but cackle, falling backwards on the floor.

The Inquisitor laughed, too, but Harding knew she was serious, that that was indeed what she was planning to do. Always so bright and hopeful, looking for the best in every situation - one of the many reasons why people had loved her as Inquisitor.

They heard a sound just outside the door, and Scarlet sighed fondly, shaking her head.

"Eavesdropping on us? Really?" Harding said, but she was not really angry, just resigned and even amused. That stupid man couldn't stay away from Lady Lavellan for more than ten minutes, now that they were finally together again, with no more secrets between them.

"I think I'll go to sleep. Goodnight, Harding."

"Goodnight, Inquisitor." Harding gave her a lopsided, impish smile. "Sweet dreams."

--------

Someone knocked at her door, and she already knew who it was.

"Solas."

Scarlet smiled at him. Part of her wanted to drag him into the room and finally, finally hug him and kiss him after all those years, but she didn't wish to scare him. She could see and feel he still loved her, just as she still loved him, but she wasn't sure he was finally ready to let himself go.

"Vhenan." His voice was soft, a whisper carrying all his love and guilt and pain and adoration. "I missed you."

She swallowed her tears, but they spilled from her eyes all the same.

"Oh, Solas." Her real hand trembled as she reached out to cup his cheek. He leaned into her touch, sighing happily, never breaking eye contact. "I missed you, too."

"I want..." He took a deep breath. "There are memories scattered around the Lighthouse and the Crossroads. Scenes from my past. I want you to see them, all of them."

Eyes wide, she could just stare at him, at a loss for words. He rested his hand upon hers, clearly determined, fully resolved to finally share everything with her, the good and the bad, Fen'Harel included.

"I do not deserve your forgiveness nor your love." His hand on hers trembled, and a tear ran down his cheek. "But I love you, vhenan. I always will. If the world truly is going to end, if we won't survive this, I wish to die by your side."

He smiled, that sweet smile he had for her only.

"But should we survive this second catastrophe, too, I wish to walk with you wheresoever you desire, to share everything with you, to live with you. Not as Fen'Harel, not as a god of rebellion, but as Solas." His lips quivered. "Your Solas."

She sobbed, a luminous smile on her face. She nodded and a "yes" had barely left her mouth, when he stepped forward and crashed his lips against hers, holding her tightly. He peppered her face with kisses, smiling as well, their laughter and giggles filling the corridor, before scooping her up into his arms and entering the bedroom, their hearts the lightest they had ever been, soaring with hope and love.

#dragon age #da:tv #solas #solavellan #scarlet lavellan #lafaiette's fic #da:tv spoilers #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #THIS IS ANGSTY AT THE BEGINNING #AND FLUFFY AT THE END #really i wanted to write something with a lot of humor but #then i realized solas probably wouldn't - couldn't - have a good relationship with these people #because he's not simply solas the elven scholar and apostate with them #they know him as fen'harel the dread wolf #there can't be the same camaraderie he had with the inquisition's companions #BUT THERE IS HUMOR #sprinkled here and there #thank you wendynerdwrites for the wonderful idea #we need a scene like this in the game jdfkfgfllgh

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