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The Swan

Lavellan x Blackwall

18+ reconciliation, rough sex, dom/sub, bodice ripping, fingering (f!), oral (f!), body worship, cultural grief, depictions of a seizure, hurt/comfort

Following the anger Vella had burned into him, and her silent forgiveness, Blackwall seeks her out to ask for something shaped like atonement. And to maybe, selfishly, hope for something more...

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The most beautiful thing sat on his workbench.

A small braided lock of her golden hair, woven with sweet grasses. An elegantly scribed note sat beneath it. Only one line on the thin page.

I'm sorry.

Blackwall's hand hovered over the beautiful gift. Unfit to even touch it.

She had explained the significance of hair for her clan. The length of it precious to her. A cultural touchstone she still felt she could hold.

He finally slid it into his cupped palm, holding it like a delicate fledgling bird.

He couldn't articulate the emotion that this overwhelmed inside him. Staring down at how the rising sun caught glow in her hair. Heart bursting with ache. He had rarely been given gifts and had never received one like this.

He didn't know where to put this feeling. Where to keep it.

Then it struck him. It was simple.

He stood, still cupping the precious bundle. Bringing it to his nose as he walked, sighing deep into the sweet smell. Carefully laying it inside a leather pouch that he strung sinew through.

Lifting the pendant of her, he closed his eyes. Poised to adorn himself in it. Flooded with the most profound undertaking he had ever been given, more powerful than a knighting. A ceremony he silently held in the chill of early morning.

He slipped it over his head, taking full deep breaths.

He pressed a palm over the pouch. As close to his heart as the world would allow.

"Tell me a dream."

Solas smiled at her, turning in his seat. That gentle adoration in his eyes that was hard kept from her.

"You are eager to hear my travels." His voice low, already poised to begin a tale despite the gentle tease.

She only smiled, leaning her head against the curve of the lounging couch. Staring at him with those terribly beautiful eyes, now inset with the thinnest ring of silver. Wide and sweet in their seeking.

Solas sighed as if being greatly put upon. But Blackwall knew he was aching to share with her.

She had this way of pulling the essence from people. Pulling along their heart to unravel their troubles at her feet. All of them spilled over her, whether those she held close to her or strangers she encountered. Tilting her head as they spoke, truly hearing them. Seeking to understand. Asking beyond what the common person would.

In her court, every decision was made with care. Weighing each side in her palms.

Few would fight her, seeing the thought poured into it. Despite every factor working against her, she was an inspiration. A kind and just leader.

She stared at Solas now with that soft rapture. Eyes just slightly wide, lips fallen into the sliver of a part. Truly listening. A rare skill.

Solas leaned into her, speaking in hush. Meeting her in the quiet reverence fully. Weaving his tale with deliberate fingers. Sitting in a pocket of the world.

He thought Solas might be infatuated with her and couldn't find no blame in it. So often, people just wanted to be heard. And the way she saught made the heart reach for her.

She was so deeply adored, and yet, felt none of it. It rubbed him raw that she felt outside of the love that surrounded her. Always poised to leave. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He couldn't understand how she could devote herself so deeply to their people, to their cause, and feel like something ready to be discarded. Not even putting up a fight, like cutting her away was the world righting itself. To weave herself so deeply with a knife poised over her thread. Ready to cut as soon as they were done with her.

How could someone so loved be unloved within it?

She had spoken little about her father. Her eyes swam in sorrow when the conversation circled on him, so he didn't push it. But he suspected that was the source of her isolation.

He didn't know how to fill the empty well of love in her. He knew, realistically, that he couldn't wholly do that himself. But fuck if he didn't want to try.

Except...

The torture of his deceit was reaching a boiling point. It was torment to keep himself from her. From those wide seeking eyes, eager to drink the story of him. To know him. He was constantly on the edge of spilling himself at her feet. Cutting open his belly and falling to knees to pray for forgiveness. Nothing could forgive him for deceiving her, but he couldn't bring himself to shatter the illusion yet. Not while she still saw light in him.

He could still stand with her, if only for a few precious moments. He could try to atone for attempting to drive her away.

When others pushed her away, she fell back almost gratefully. When he pushed her away, she came back with righteous anger. Burned into him, demanding a resolution. For him to sever her fully. Why was he different?

"My lady, a word?"

Her eyes lifted to his. Solas' following in a start, so engrossed in her that he hadn't felt him there.

"Of course." Her tone soft in its casual.

She hushed something in Elvish and Solas responded in kind. Her hand cupped his cheek, smiling at him in that radiant softness, rising to feet. Solas' hand raised to cup over hers as she pulled away but left it hovering. Eyes following her.

Blackwall watched him with a knowing empathy. Turning his back as she drew forward to spare him his gaze. The graceful glide of her step pulled him into a stride.

Uttering that spell, that incantation, as they walked that had made many fall to their knees.

"Speak to me."

He paused, gathering himself. She waited easily. Leading him up a trail of stone to a favorite hiding place.

The small bedroom over the Herald's Rest, still wild with vine and crumbled stone. The inn below muffled, quiet in spilled light and deep green.

He adored this little piece of solitude she had found. Often sneaking up in the night himself to visit it alone. To sit amongst her things gathered in a corner. Sometimes he stumbled upon her sleeping in the abandoned bed.

He could tell she felt alien in her designated chambers, only going in at night for the sake of propriety. Catching her climbing out of the balcony as the moon rose, already found the footholds. Smiling up at a wild beauty from a seat in the stables, scaling down a castle wall.

Though, she wasn't always alone in this serene place. Their newest companion, the strange boy between worlds, sat with her here sometimes.

Cole set his teeth on edge. He couldn't pin him down, and that made him dangerous. It made him even more nervous to have this unknown near her. But he couldn't deny their connection.

It was like they had known each other for a long time. While the boys vague ramblings made Blackwall bristle, Vella responded to them like they held obvious meaning. That she understood implicitly, gently nodding. Not even startled when the boy would appear behind her, smiling like she expected him.

Though, he had mused that she was part spirit before. Maybe that held more truth than he had anticipated. Something in her saw clear in him. It all made him wary, but he couldn't bear encouraging her to separate from this connection. So he reserved to watch over it.

"I hope they never fix this part." She sighed, trailing her fingertips along the vines. "I don't know how people can live in stone places like this. It's so..."

"Cold?" He offered.

She turned, pointing at him.

"Yes! It's cold, there's no life. I guess it's safer, but nothing breathes in it. The forest is all breath. You can feel it all around you. Breathing with you."

He lost himself in her words again. Fully agreeing. The forest was one of the few places he felt home in.

"When this is over, I want to go back. I want to go to the Emerald Graves. Have you been?" She offered.

He waved his hand in a so-so gesture.

"Oh," She rose her hands to cup over her chest. Eyes bright with memory. "It's so... its a mournful place, but Gods, I can't even describe it!"

Maker, he loved her.

"Give it a try." He chuckled, leaning against a large stone. Eager to have her talk like this all night.

She smiled wide at him.

"You're distracting me."

"Is it working?"

"You know it is." She laughed. The sound filling the air holy. "We still need to talk though."

"So soon?" He teased, drawing forward. The desire to kiss her all consuming.

"Maybe not for a bit." She sighed, staring up at him.

"I missed you." He hushed, cupping her face. The petal of her cheek warm under the rough of his palm.

She leaned into his touch. Closing her eyes gently.

His breath drew from him as he kissed her. The ache in his heart sang. He had never felt a love so deep. She flowed through his body as a great river. He bathed in her water.

"I missed you." She echoed as he finally pulled away. "I'm sorry I spoke to you like that. I'm just... I want you. If you dont want me, I'd rather know that."

He shook his head, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. Her hand woven around his wrist an anchor in his storm.

"No, your anger was good. It was justified. I want you terribly. Don't hold back for me, I want it all."

"But you're holding back." She offered softly, eyes searching his.

He froze, but she didn't. Not pulling away, her hand steady on his chest.

"Whatever it is, I'll meet you there when you're ready. I want to know you. But this..."

She held his palm up, turning it against hers.

"This is good." Her pupils wide with love for him.

He gathered her to him in an urgent kiss. Tears threatened behind his tightly shut eyes.

He wanted to promise the world to her. Anything. He would do anything. But he couldn't, and it was eating him alive. Suffocated and immobile in his own web. Maker, how was he going to tell her?

"Thank you." He breathed against her lips.

"No problem."

He pinched her hip, and she giggled against his mouth.

"So... are you my boooyfriend?"

He groaned. Pulling back from her with a shake of his head.

"No? Oh man, I was so hoping..." She laughed, pushing forward into his jest.

"Boyfriend... what are we? Twelve?"

"You're right. Boytoy has a more dignified ring to it."

"Maker..." He sighed. She paced in mock thought.

"Oh! I've got it. You're my sweet thing. My baby."

"We're breaking up."

"Oh man! I hope we get back together."

"Come here." He laughed, tilting her chin up to his in his fingers. Kissing her deep. Drinking from her river.

She drew back breathless. Eyes blown.

"I adore you, you menace. Will you walk with me or not?"

"Hmm, I'll consider it."

"You'll consider it." He tickled into her sides. She shrieked in laughter, trying to wiggle away.

"Yes! Yes! Now unhand me, you brute!" She laughed.

"Oh brute, is it?" He growled, hoisting her by the waist over his shoulder. "Better play the part."

He carried her outside, her feet kicking happily next to him as she protested on his back.

"Guards! Seize him!"

Catching Varric's gaze, his eyes already creased in laughter.

"Varric! I'm being apprehended! Get him!"

"Oh no, Sunshine!" He called. "I'm too far away! I can't help!"

Her contained laugh shook against his shoulder.

"Oh, are the odd couple finally made up?"

"Dorian! My confidante, my bosom brother! You must help!"

"Mm, I'm sure you're fine. Have fun with your capture!"

She huffed, poising her chin into her hand on the curve of his back.

"Are you done?" He laughed.

"Never!"

She wriggled off of his shoulder and took off running, laughing like a mad woman.

"You're going to scare the locals!" He called, chasing after her.

"Not if you can catch me!" She shouted over her shoulder. Many bemused faces watching her run.

He had snuck into her chamber early in the night, waiting in shadow.

It had been only a handful of weeks since their joining, but it had unleashed a storm of desire. Pulling each other into alcoves and corners to spill ravenous over each other.

When she finally entered, looking weary and so hauntingly beautiful, he rushed her.

It was an addiction, pulling sweet sounds from her. Feeling her body tremor and writhe around him. He had become insatiable.

It shocked him how much he craved this kind of dominance. Shoving her against the wall. Pressing her hard against the stone as she gasped. Her hands braced next to her head, already arching her wide hips into him. The curve of her ass so full and firm.

"Do you know what you do to me?" He accused, yanking her beautifully tailored court dress over her shoulders. Inlaid with gold filigree and deep indigo flowers, a soft cream garment that fell from her in slick waves.

It had been Leilana's idea. To fill oppresive decor in the great hall where she held court and judgment, great towering statues of figures holding spears, fire pits burning along the walk to the throne. The atmosphere heavy with power.

Then Vella would flow into the room, dress trailing behind her. The molten gold of her hair braided loosely down her back. So shockingly beautiful, juxtaposed to the heavy decor. Planting newcomers firmly on the back foot. Perceiving her even more mysterious on bad days when she would don a black silk blindfold.

It was genius subterfuge, using her otherworldly beauty and hidden condition to their advantage. But it had become an endless source of torment for him.

He had elected to become the head of her guard when she held court. Something that swelled his chest with purpose and pride, but meant he had to escort her in these silky garments. The sway of her hips and the full of her thighs teasing under the shifting fall of fabric. The perk of her small breasts beckoning under the low fold of fabric.

And, of course, she would tease him. The gentlest graze of her ass against his hips as she bent to Josephine's writing board. Trailing her fingers lightly up his forearm when he would assist her from the podium where the throne stood.

By the end of the day he would be rabid with desire, cornering her in empty halls. Hissing in her ear, fondling her breast, pulling her hair in a firm fist.

It was making him insane to not take her, to not bury himself to the hilt in her velvet sex. But he couldn't bring himself to indulge in that kind of pleasure. Not with deceit rotting in him.

But her pleasure was holy. It was his most profound call to unravel her over and over. To see her moaning and twitching, her arousal pooling in his palm, in his mouth. He couldn't stop. He would beg for it if she denied him. He would sit on knees and kiss the perfect curve of her stomach, running his calloused hands up the lambs ear of her thighs. Pleading for her to allow him to taste her.

"Striding around in these fucking dresses." He smeared kisses in the rolling muscle of her shoulders. Just the sight of her pulling her bow enough to send him dazed.

"Knowing this is underneath." He grasped a handful of her ass. Groaning at the taut but giving flesh. Kneading it in his palm. Her gasps and whines wrapping around his head. Yanking the dress down her hips to fall in a silk pool at her feet.

"Maker, preserve me..." He moaned, beholding her. Wearing nothing but a lacy little thing that sat high on her hips. A deep red that danced against the gold of her skin. "You look like a fucking painting."

"I have so much to do, Blackwall." She protested in a moan as he rubbed her cunt over her panties.

"I don't care." He growled, pinching her nipple between his fingers. The soft yelp he earned twitching his hard cock.

"Spread your legs." He commanded.

She slid them out. Panting against the wall.

"So beautiful..." He sighed. Kissing along her swan neck. Her golden hair fallen curtain over her shoulder. "I can't believe I get to see you like this. To touch you like this."

He slipped her panties off with the curve of his finger, fallen to her ankles. Rubbing his knuckles along the soft gold curls to the soak of her slit. Her whine pulling another throb from him.

"You talk too much." She smiled over her shoulder at him.

He took her hair in his fist, pulling her head back in an arch. A moan rose from her.

"You want it like that?" He growled.

She nodded, biting her lip.

He plunged two fingers inside her. Her body already tight around him. Thrusting in curved pulses.

"Oh, Gods." She mewled. Staring back at him with glazed eyes. "It's so good."

"Yeah?" He growled, his fingers plunging in faster and faster strikes. The velvet slick of her squeezing his digits. The squelching of it so salacious it made him dizzy.

She nodded, lost in her pleasure. Rocking against the wall with the power he drove through his arm. Dazed and emitting the softest cries.

"Harder, please." She moaned, the edge of a whine on her words.

He snapped. Grasping her by the hips to turn her to face him. Leaning down to lap fervently at her nipple, the other pinched and rolled in his free hand. The fingers inside her striking up with the force of his shoulder.

She cried out, head thrown back. Body shuddering hard, the muscles in her belly clenching and twitching. Thighs shaking so hard they may well give out.

He was near his edge, almost cumming in his trousers. Panting into her breast around the slurp of his tongue. Her arousal running down his wrist. Delirious with lust.

Her hands wound into his hair, pulling in her fist. He groaned loudly, his orgasm raw in him. Desperate for release.

"I'm- ah!" She cried. The tight clenches around his fingers telling already.

She pulled his hair down, forcing him between her legs. He followed gladly, gripping her hip as he lapped vigorously around his fingers. Drinking the cum that poured into his palm. Her cries of ecstasy muffled behind her hand. Body in the tight throes of release.

He only had a moment to get his cock from his trousers before he was cumming in hard strikes. Moaning rough into her. Her pleasure transcending into his. Spilling from him in clenching strikes. Eyes lost under hazy lids, still urging her release from her in flat pulls of his tongue. Gripping her hips in both hands.

She rode out her aftershock above him. The little clenches of her belly and shake of her thighs his favorite sight. Her hand gently trailing through his hair.

"Gods, you're incredible at that." She gasped, smiling down at him. Her wide blown pupils and flushed cheeks unbearably beautiful. A sight only for him.

He rose to meet her plush lips in a deep kiss. Dizzy with love for her.

"I would do that for hours, if you'd let me." He murmured through their lips.

"Hm, so devoted." She nuzzled against his beard, eyes glittering with mischief.

He scooped under her thighs and back and reveled in the little surprised squeak she emitted. Carrying her up to her wide bed.

"Deeply." He sighed. Kissing along her neck, leaning down over her as he slid into the bed next to her.

"Sweet talker." She sighed, arching her head back. His fingers drug light down the curve of her breast, the soft of her belly, the ridge of her hipbone.

"How can you look so..." He wished he had more words. Was more eloquent. Had a wider vocabulary.

A thought struck him.

"I want to speak with you. Could you teach me?"

"Teach you what, baby?" She smiled, pleasantly lost to his train of thought.

He nearly puddled at the pet name but steeled his resolve. Laying parallel next to her.

"Your language. Could you teach me Elvish?"

She rose on elbows, sitting up. He followed, suddenly terrified that he had offended somehow. He was always clumsy to the nuance of other cultures.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, no." She assured quickly, her eyes fell from his. "It's just... I'm a hunter, not a hahren."

She must have seen the confusion in his eyes. Smiling gently.

"A hahren is... it's an elder, a teacher. But it's more than that. They keep our history and tell it so we may live it again. It's a sacred role."

"The keeper is our leader, but the hahren is our soul." She waved her hands as she spoke.

"I'm not making any sense." She sighed. "You should ask Solas."

"Absolutely not. And you're making sense, I promise."

She bit her lip. Uncertain.

"I can try." She sighed.

"You know," She smiled at him in that vulnerable way that made his heart ache. "You've always reminded me of an emerald knight."

She repeated the name in Elvish, and he repeated it back to her clumsily. Repeated until he got a loose grasp on it.

"What's an emerald knight?"

So she told him. Of the great warriors that stood the line of the chantry's invasion. Of promises broken and land razed. Of long painful journeys and those lost on the way.

But also of hope. Stories of impossible victories and song ringing through the air. Of her bloodline, touched by gods, leading them forward. Of promises shattered but new purpose found within their shards.

It made his heart ache with wonder and disgust at his own teachings. The lies that the chantry spread. Denouncing her people as nothing but lost angry children. Doomed to wallow in their own history.

The rich tapestry she wove was laughable in the face of the lies he had been told. Her ancestry was fierce and cunning. Resilient in a way he could barely fathom.

"When I was born golden, my people saw me as a spirit of hanal'ghinan, a golden halla that led our people to safety. And they were right in a way. I saw beyond my eyes. I kept us safe where my father couldn't."

Her head hung, hands low in her lap.

"But when I came back wrong and late with shemlen tongue, I was to become what I had been since I was lost. Len'alas lath'din. An empty child. Unwanted."

"You did so much. You remember so much." He urged. Drawing forward on knees. "You're more than what your clan couldn't see."

She smiled sadly at him. "I know. I'm trying to separate my hellathen from my kin. It's hard, though. To unravel my vhen from my exile. To trust that I'm of the vhen'alas. Of the spirit of the earth."

"Do you mind if I write this down?" He offered sheepishly. Feeling the words start to lose meaning.

"Very non-traditional." She teased. Handing him a small notebook. "I like it."

So he wrote her language, her history. Reassured to have it to look back on. To know it.

"We should pause. It's getting late." She sighed, eyes heavy but still soft.

He nearly asked for her to continue, but felt the weight of his own eyes. Nodding.

Her body went very still.

"Oh... okay." Her tone shaken but determined.

"What's wrong?" He urged, already standing on knees.

She laid back as she spoke, putting her hands relaxed over her belly. Eyes already filled with a haunting silver glow.

"I'm about to have a seizing fit. Don't panic. Don't put anything in my mouth. It'll be over soon."

"What should I do?" He tried to keep the panic from his voice.

"Just wait, it looks worse than it is. I'm sorry."

She took slow deep breaths, then went rigid. Her arms pulled tight against her chest, breath caught in a hiss. Her legs extended out, heels digging into the sheets. Head craned back, neck extended in a stiff arch. Seized up in a tight bridge.

He rubbed along her hands, her hard stomach. Kissing her teeth gritted jaw. Trying to channel his terror into soft care. To bring her back. To return her eyes from the top of her skull.

Just as her lips started to go blue, and he was about to call for a healer, it released. Her body fallen slack again. Gasping with returned breath. Looking around limp and lost.

"Hey." He murmured, sliding under her body. Cradling her inside him. "There you are."

"What...?" She blinked, leaning into him.

"You had a seizing fit." He assured against her hair. Pulling it gently from her temple. Rubbing a warm circle into her chest.

"Oh..." Her eyes filled with silver tears. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not. I'm glad I was here."

She nuzzled into his chest. Curling her legs up in a ball.

"Can you just hold me?" She whispered.

"I will hold you until you will no longer have me."

Her fingers tangled into his tunic. Crying softly into his chest.

He held strong around her, leaving small kisses in the crown of her head. Heart aching but steady. Aching for the times she rode this out alone. Awaking scared and lost, piecing together the moments before.

He wanted to ask how often this had been happening and how he could help. But she was trembling in his arms and he couldn't bring himself to ask of her further. He thought he might know, anyway. The familiarity she showed before it struck all too telling.

For now, he would hold her. A sacred duty. The guardian of the most profound and powerful woman. Unbreakable but shaken. Resiliency that could crack the earth.

"Sleep. I'm right here, okay?" He hushed between kisses.

She nodded. Curling her head into his chest. The fabric of his tunic damp.

He closed his eyes, cupping around her back.

"Vhenan..." She murmured.

"I don't know that one." He teased in a whisper. But she was already evened out in the tide of sleep.

"Vhenan." He echoed.

Not baby. But he liked the sound of it.

Next Chapter

#they make sick. need to be put down #lavellan x blackwall #blackwall x inquisitor #blackwall smut #dragon age smut #lyrics from: a thousand knives - RY X

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