#solas fanfiction

[vir-bellanaris]

Lavellan reclined on the lounge, the room dark save for the shifting lights of blueish white wisp spirits hovering in the air. She stroked gentle patterns against Solas’ skin as he lay with his head upon her thighs, her fingers tracing the sharp edge of his ears and down the contours of his neck.

“They’re so beautiful.” She murmured.

Solas nodded in agreement, his eyes never deviating from her upturned face, drinking in her expressions and little sounds of delighted awe.

“Is this what you looked like, before you gained a body?” Lavellan reached out, lifting her finger towards one of the delicate phantasms. Thin tendrils of gossamer light brushed and delicately intertwined with her seeking fingers.

“Of the same ilk. I was much larger, far more sentient than these wisps of intelligence.”

She lowered her gaze to his. The blueish glow illuminated her face, casting her features into sharp relief against the dim backdrop and the orbs of dancing light above her head. “I saw what you once looked like, I think. In one of your frescos.”

“I imagine you did.” He hesitated, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering. “May I ask your thoughts?”

“Beautiful. You were beautiful. Luminous.” She traced a fingertip across his cheeks, connecting the freckles that lay upon his fair skin in little constellations. “You still are.”

He sat up, enough to touch his nose to hers and give her an affectionate kiss.

She felt the curve of his smile as their lips brushed. She placed her hand against his abdomen, feeling the muscles shifting beneath his tunic. “I’m glad you decided to gain a body.”

Solas watched her, half amused, drinking in each graceful movement, the strands of her long hair cascading down her back and falling over a shoulder as she leant forward. “As am I.” Another light kiss. “Now more so than ever.”

She beamed at him. The radiance of her beauty dimming the waltzing lights above. Solas tucked a finger beneath her jaw, stroking her chin with his thumb. His eyes a dark amethyst as he regarded her, his thumb moved to caress the plump flesh of her bottom lip, watching as her mouth opened slightly in response.

He loved her.

How he loved her.

Every beat of her heart echoed within his own soul. His own spirit, once unbound from notions such as love and lust, now clothed in flesh.

He had never looked at her in such a way, not even in their stolen moments back in Skyhold. She saw his eyes drawn magnetically to her lips, the touch of his fingers causing her blood to quicken.

Drawn by the electricity between the two perhaps, a wisp alighted on Lavellan’s shoulder, tangling soft strands of essence in her hair. Solas released his hold on her chin, grinning as he chuckled quietly. “They seem to be drawn to you.”

“Maybe it’s the energies left over from the anchor.”

“Mm, I postulate more readily it is your aura that draws them.” Solas coaxed the wisp from her shoulder where it obediently drifted into the palm of his hand. He raised it back up and allowed it to float once more amongst its brethren. “Your own spirit is a rare and marvelous force, vhenan.”

“I seem to remember you saying something along those lines long ago.”

“Ah…yes.” Solas’ face fell slightly, the act of remembrance for him eternally bittersweet.

Lavellan slid her touch down his shoulders, taking his hands, speaking softly. “Do you remember our first kiss?”

His lips tilted upwards at the well-worn memory. “Every detail.”

She watched the movement of his lushly curved mouth, studying with loving awe the beauty of his features. “How you said it was ill-considered and impulsive?”

She moved in and pressed a kiss to the healing skin under each of his eyes. Kissed all the freckles scattered across his cheeks like stars.

“Yes.” Solas leaned into her, closing his eyes, inhaling her warm breath as it ghosted across him. He pushed aside the guilt still gnawing at him for what he had done to her, allowed it to be consumed and burned away by her persevering love. “I remember it all.” He caught her chin again, moving her so he could see her eyes. “The way you looked at me across the campfire, ‘lingering’ as Madame de Fer aptly described. The rise and fall of your chest becoming more pronounced whenever I would brush against your body in passing, or when healing your wounds.”

“Solas…”

But he continued. “The ache of wishing to forsake all my plans and just be with you. How much that inferno of desire frightened me.” Solas drew her closer, their noses almost touching. “The scent of your hair, the warmth of your skin, the curve of your body, it all threatened to undo me. Undo everything I had worked countless years towards.”

“Do you still think of us as ill-considered and impulsive?” Lavellan had to ask the question, even if she could see how deeply it affected him, the slight wince and tensing of his features.

Read More here

To Where Your Soul Travels, There Go I - Chapter 6 - MysticAwareness - Dragon Age: Inquisition [Archive of Our Own]

[acmelxvr]

Take A Seat, Inquisitor

Pairing: Female Lavellan x Solas

Summary: Solas finds the Inquisitor in desperate need of some relaxation in the Winter Palace. And, well, he can provide.

Genre/Tags: Explicit, Canon Compliant, POV Third Person, Spoilers for Dragon Age: Inquisition, Drunk Sex, No Penetration Though, Thigh Riding, Praise, Dirty Talk, Ear Licking, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Biting, Premature Ejaculation, Mentions of Oral Sex

Word Count: 3,900

Notes: This is my first Solas fic so be gentle pls...I also posted it on AO3, you can read it there by clicking this link if you want :3

“And that’s how I ended up hunting wyverns in the Frostbacks with only two pairs of breeches!” All the nobles and Inquisition personnel in the small circle laugh at the lord’s story, some more forced than others. The ball at the Winter Palace wanes into the early hours of the morning now with no end in sight. Although drinks and food are still being served, the massive crowd has thinned into small packs of chattering lords and ladies who would dare not make the faux pas of leaving too early.

“I think I’m going to explore the library.” Lavellan murmurs to Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen. The excuse is enough to dissuade the rest of the crowd from protesting the Inquisitor’s departure from the group, but her three advisors are unconvinced.

“Take me with you.” Cullen pleads through gritted teeth, smiling a bit too wide as he barely follows along to the conversation taking place. Josephine tuts at the Commander but simply nods at Lavellan. 

“Good idea. You might find some of the more intellectual attendees who would be interested in learning more about the Inquisition.” Josephine’s eyes twinkle at the possibilities, and the Inquisitor nods politely.

“Yes, I will most definitely be doing that.” She says flatly, causing Cullen to snort and this time earn a light kick from Leliana that could easily be passed as a stretch of the knee. As Lavellan begins to take her leave, the Spymaster grabs her arm and turns to speak over her shoulder to avoid any eavesdroppers.

“You did well tonight.” She starts. “You are a complete natural at The Game, despite the many forces working against you.” Lavellan smirks at the praise, knowing Leliana probably thought she would trip over her own two feet. “You’ve earned a respite, even just for a few hours before our work starts up again.” The last part she fully whispers, leaning in conspicuously. “For once, I will advise you to not listen to Josephine.” She smiles knowingly before dropping the Inquisitor’s arm. 

Lavellan chuckles. “You read my mind.” She takes small steps through the ballroom towards the vestibule, occasionally saying hello to people she passes. Her mind spins with the possibilities of her alliance with Empress Celene; what it means for the Inquisition, for the Dalish, for herself. The Inquisitor is still deep in thought when she looks up and realizes that her body seemed to auto-pilot her straight into the Grand Library. The guards that used to be stationed near the entrance have disappeared, gone hours ago once the threat against the Empress’s life was neutralized. She worries over this for a moment, before dropping her shoulders and taking a deep breath as she remembers Leliana’s words.

Her fingers trace over the many titles packed into the various shelves, some in languages Lavellan doesn’t even recognize. She smiles softly as she picks up a book by a professor in the Free Marches collecting Dalish songs and tales. She leans against a desk, facing away from the Grand Library entrance, while she flips through the pages and remembers a much simpler time. 

“I figured you’d be hiding in here.” The voice makes her jump, yelp, and drop the book at the same time. She quickly turns with her hand over her hidden dagger strapped to her thigh, only to sigh when Solas snorts with laughter. “The Inquisitor should not be so easily caught off guard.” He exclaims, the two flutes of champagne in each hand shaking as he chuckles to himself.

“Yes, well, forgive me if it pleases you.” She snips, then grimaces when Solas raises his eyebrows slightly at her short tone. “I’m sorry. I had finally escaped from all those people out there…I guess I got a bit caught up in what I was reading.” Her explanation is jumbled, but Solas places the two drinks on the desk before waving her off.

“Do not apologize. I’m certain you’ve had a much busier night than I. I can leave, if you wish.” He points towards one glass as an offering. Lavellan nods gratefully before grabbing the thin spine of the delicate piece and holding it close to her chest.

“Please, stay.” She says. “You’re good company.” Solas smiles and shakes his head as another laugh escapes him. He heads towards the shelf Lavellan previously occupied, now examining the tomes himself.  With his back towards Lavellan, she can’t help but take in Solas’ form. He towers over her a bit and his broad shoulders also help distinguish Solas from the Dalish elves she’s used to. Even in the alienages, Solas stands out as…bigger.

Lavellan coughs, a flush climbing her cheeks as her mind wanders to more depraved thoughts about Solas’ body. Solas was certainly free with his verbal affections, but they had only just started engaging in physical affections recently. Even then, they had only kissed. Lavellan didn’t mind waiting, of course, but it felt as though every time it developed into something more that Solas pulled away. 

Solas clears his throat, bringing the Inquisitor out of her thoughts as though he has eyes on the back of his head and can see how she’s examining him. Or maybe being a mage with a speciality in the Fade lets him read minds. Lavellan’s eyes widen as the drink begins to take hold. Can Solas read minds? She thinks, half seriously. “Inquisitor?” Solas asks.

“Yes!” He turns to fully face her as he holds a book in his hand. “Yes, sorry. Long night.” She mutters, taking another sip. She can feel Solas’s gaze on her as she redirects her vision to a different corner of the room. The shadows dance along the wall as the various candles around the room burn low. There’s a moment of silence, as though Solas is deciding to address the tension in the room. 

“I asked whether you enjoyed your time in the Winter Palace tonight.” Solas leans against the bookshelf, a sly smile gracing his face. “The way you managed to navigate the nobility, the ballroom floor, and an assassination attempt was particularly stunning.” He swirls his beverage in one hand as he flips through his chosen book. Solas’ choice of words cause Lavellan to finally bring her attention back to him. She scrutinizes him for a moment, furrowing her brow as her eyes rake over his stature from head to toe. Finally, she smiles too.

“Solas, are you drunk?” She asks. She giggles as Solas opens his mouth to give a quick retort, but closes it when he realizes he doesn’t have one. He shakes his head in slight embarrassment and drops his eyes as the Inquisitor continues to quietly laugh. “I guess I need to catch up.” Lavellan murmurs as Solas regains his footing in the conversation.

“I will admit to partaking in more drinking than I usually allow myself. All the power, intrigue, danger, sex…” He notices how Lavellan crosses her legs when he pauses. “Well, I suppose it’s nice to go unnoticed for an evening. To engage in behavior that is unbecoming of me.” Lavellan shakes her head, alleviating his fears that she thinks less of him now. “You haven’t answered my original question.” He states, placing his book back on the shelf.

“Enjoyed is not the word I would use.” She pauses, thinking deeply on her answer. “I’m glad I was able to play The Game well enough. It was almost satisfying being able to talk circles around humans.” Solas nods ruefully, staying silent. “But I was on edge the entire time. Constantly waiting for something to go wrong. And when the Grand Duchess was dragged away…” She trails off. 

“Power can be suffocating, sometimes.” Solas finishes Lavellan’s thought. They’ve both finished their drinks at this point, the flush on Lavellan’s face indicating that she’s just as tipsy as Solas is. “There are times when a decision needs to be made. Even the correct choice is never an easy one.” Solas’s expression turns serious, and Lavellan cocks her head.

“So you think I made the right choice? Going with Empress Celene?” She asks. The candles in the Library have dimmed even further as the moon creeps higher above Halamshiral. Solas tilts his head back against the fine wooden shelf, crossing his arms and looking down at the Inquisitor.

“Is my praise necessary for you to feel at ease?” His question makes Lavellan laugh, a true laugh that comes from her stomach. It’s infectious to Solas, a smile creeping onto his face replacing the scowl he had moments before. “Briala and Celene could never have ruled together, and Gaspard is a disaster when it comes to court. In the Fade I’ve seen whole nations crumble because someone would rather force a compromise than make a real decision.” He moves towards Lavellan, all social grace completely lost, and places a hand on her shoulder. “You made a real decision, ma vhenan. They are never easy.” 

Lavellan looks up at Solas, who is only now an arm’s length away. “Ma vhenan?” She restates, teasing Solas now. “That is an odd way to pronounce ‘Inquisitor’, Solas.” Her hand creeps up to rest on top of Solas, the space between the two elves shrinking as he moves to grip her waist.

He rests his forehead against Lavellan’s, rubbing her shoulder with his thumb adoringly. “You looked breathtaking tonight. You were magnificent, awe-inspiring. You’ll forgive me if I drop your title. I couldn’t bear to hide how I feel for you any longer.” He pulls back momentarily to kiss the top of her head, one hand moving to the small of her back. She leans into his touch, and for some minutes the pair is silent, their embrace only betrayed by the soft skitters of someone passing through the hallway.

The trance is broken as Lavellan gives a soft push to Solas. “I should head back now. There are people probably looking for me.” She groans and rolls her shoulders, her muscles tensing back as she recalls what it feels like to have a dozen pairs of eyes on you at all times. She turns to leave, but Solas captures her arm.

“You’ve played your part for the night, vhenan.” Solas pulls Lavellan flush against him, her backside against his groin. Solas forgets his inhibitions as he pulls her collar back to plant a kiss on her neck, making Lavellan gasp. Another kiss and a roll of Solas’s hips makes her groan louder, planting her hands on the desk. “Relax with me. Forget your duty, even for a moment.” Solas’ words cause a small pit of guilt to form in his heart, but it retreats when Lavellan moans again. 

“Josephine would personally see to our executions if we were caught having sex in the Winter Palace.” Lavellan’s skin is practically lit on fire with every single one of Solas’s touches, his fingertips dancing down her waist. “And I think the Orlesian nobility would die from heart attacks if they found two naked elves here.” She turns to face Solas, who stops momentarily to grin wildly, showing his sharp canines.

“I haven’t said anything about being naked.” Their faces are inches apart, both of them breathing heavily as arousal sits heavy in their stomachs. “There are many things one can do to relax without being naked, if their imagination allows it.” Solas whispers in Lavellan’s ear. He pulls away and guides Lavellan to a plush couch in a dark corner, far from any immediate entrance into the library. Solas lets go of her hand and sits on the couch, spreading his legs wide. He leans back on the couch, throwing one arm over the velveteen, and pats his thigh, beckoning Lavellan to sit.

To sit on him.

Lavellan swallows as she takes the sight in. She’s imagined, dreamed of sex with Solas dozens of times, but this was something entirely new. Something she hadn’t even begun to consider, but was still enticing nonetheless. “Is this something you want?” She asks him.

“Yes.” Solas answers so quickly that Lavellan is taken aback. “Nothing would bring me more pleasure right now than to give you pleasure.” He holds out a hand for Lavellan to grab, and tugs her on top of him. “It is selfish of me to admit, but I do not kiss you the way I do solely for your benefit.” He rolls his thigh up causing Lavellan to cover her mouth as she moans. “I do it because I also enjoy it. No, enjoy is too simple of a word.” He turns his head to think while Lavellan grips his shoulders with both hands. “I relish it. Feeling you against me, with only some layers of clothing to separate us…Fenedhis, ma vhenan. You’ve undone me. I haven’t been this overcome with desire in a long time…You make it difficult to control myself.” He plants his hands on her hips. “Let me guide you. Let me show you what I mean. We can reckon with our indulgences in the morning.” 

Solas’ words have Lavellan dripping. she nods, and plants herself fully onto Solas’ thigh, moving her hands to Solas’ neck and jaw. He starts pushing her back and forth against his leg, adjusting the pressure by examining the way her face contorts just so. She moves to cover her eyes but Solas stops her. “You are so beautiful right now, vhenan. Do not think about how you might look, but focus on how you feel.” She obliges Solas and slowly drops her fingers back to his jaw. Solas notices how his words make her quicken the pace, if for a moment. “Ah, so you do need my praise to feel at ease. Very well.” 

Solas keeps one hand on Lavellan’s hips, and moves one to the back of her head, entangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her down so he can whisper to her. She gasps as he presses up into her, causing her to roll her hips on her own. Although she can’t see it, she knows Solas is smiling with pride right now. “Just like that, perfect. You are a natural at this, vhenan.” His lips move against her ear as she forms a rhythm, her moans forming a perfect harmony with Solas as he groans from the pressure building in his own sex. The slight push and pull causes him to rub against the smooth fabric, making him knit his brow in concentration to ensure he somehow doesn’t cum before she does. He can’t remember the last time he did something like this with someone else; and while he’s relieved himself plenty of times since meeting the Inquisitor, he didn’t allow himself to think their relationship would get this far.

Lavellan whines loudly when Solas grinds up against her clit, the wet patch on his thigh exciting him more than before. He pulls Lavellan so that way they’re face to face, and kisses her like it’s the first time. She heaves against him, pressing her chest against his to get a better angle. Solas groans, louder this time as Lavellan’s knee presses up against his erection. Like everything else about Solas, it’s somehow bigger than she expected. “If you keep stopping, Inquisitor, you will inflate my ego. And getting you into this position has made me prideful enough already.”

 He kisses her again, sloppily this time, the alcohol ignoring any expectations of how their first time together would go. Solas presses his tongue against Lavellan’s, his eyes rolling back at the vibration of her moans. He finds her chest with one of his palms, kneading her and finding a nipple with ease. She yelps when he pinches and rolls, her thighs beginning to shake. Lavellan’s pace has quickened to a point where her thighs burn, the strain of muscle mixing with her pleasure. She begins to chant his name, panting and whining when Solas lets go of her nipples and moves his hands to her backside, massaging Lavellan and gripping her with a strength she didn’t know he had. “Do you know how many times I’ve finished thinking of this exact situation? How I’ve dreamed of having you completely?” Lavellan shakes her head. “Thirty four times I’ve spilled myself over my own hand thinking of how beautiful you’d look like this. For the first time in my life, my dreams cannot compare to the real thing.”

Lavellan gains confidence through Solas’s words and leans forward, almost coming in for a kiss but at the last second, she moves past Solas’s lips. Instead, she focuses on his ears; she licks a long strip from his jawline to the tip of his ears, noticing how Solas shivers and making him wonder how the hell she figured that out. She laughs while still moaning and gasping for more. “I knew you were sensitive here. Had to be, because I noticed how you pulled away the first time we kissed when I went to grab you,” She moves her thumb just underneath the other ear, making Solas jump in shock and pleasure. “Here.” She finishes, returning her mouth to latch onto Solas’s helix. She licks a circle around the apex of his damned ears, running her tongue up and down the ridge before returning to his lips. “Imagine what else my mouth can do.” Her breath mixes with his as both of them pant, although Solas does close his eyes momentarily to see the picture she’s painted. 

Solas bites his lip, almost drawing blood by how close he’s come to cumming over himself. Both of them are sweating now, Lavellan’s pristine hair stuck to her forehead. “Fenedhis–” She presses her knee against Solas’ cock again as she moves her clit down onto him, “–Fuck–”, he groans loudly as her pace quickens and she begins to babble quietly in his ear. If someone had walked in on them, Solas was too preoccupied to notice.

“I’m going to–I think I’m gonna–” Solas nods approvingly while Lavellan’s release reaches its peak. Solas closes his eyes, tears forming in the corners as he pleads with himself to hold off for just a bit longer. In a final move of complete desperation and arousal, Solas latches onto Lavellan’s neck.

And bites.

Lavellan yelps and it’s what finally sends her over the edge. She cums on Solas’s thigh, stuttering and gripping onto him while he licks at the marks his teeth had left. Both of them are moaning, although Lavellan has the sense to cover her mouth. When she finally comes down from her orgasm, Solas leans back to examine his work. Lavellan looks down and breathlessly laughs. “I made a bit of a mess.” Is all she says, and Solas lifts her momentarily to examine her handiwork.

Solas’s thigh is so soaked that Lavellan’s juices had even begun to pool next to Solas in those final moments. He smiles softly and pats Lavellan approvingly. “It is an easy enough task to warm my hands and dry my clothes, as I have done before. Do not worry.” Lavellan moves to get up off of Solas and onto her knees in front of him, but he stops her. “As much as the thought entices me, and believe me when I say it does, I’ve stolen enough of your time tonight.” She crinkles her brow in confusion, and gestures towards Solas’s groin where his erection is clearly visible, and pre-cum has even started leaking through his trousers. 

“Ah.” He says, and while he does entertain the thought longer than he should have, he still shakes his head. “This was for you, not for me. And besides,” He stands up and kisses Lavellan. “I can’t imagine there won’t be more opportunities for me to catch up.” Lavellan snorts, giving another kiss to Solas before smoothing down her attire and hair. 

“How do I look?” She asked sarcastically.

“Magnificent.” Solas responds, moving closer to brush her hair with his fingertips. He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. She seems to be remembering something and laughs; Solas tilts his head in a silent question.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse like that. I didn’t think ‘fuck’ was even in your vocabulary.” Solas’s cheeks flush red and he coughs in surprise.

“Yes, well…” He stammers underneath Lavellan’s stare. “You bring out a part in me I thought I put away long ago.” Solas smiles lightly. “And that part is inclined to curse, occasionally, when underneath a fascinating woman such as yourself.” This time, Solas is the one to let go. He nods towards the Library entrance, and Lavellan sighs before squeezing his hand and stepping quietly into the hallway. He waits until he can no longer hear her footsteps before sitting down and throwing his head back against the couch. The late hour and sudden physical activity has him utterly spent.

The elf looks down, his cock practically bursting against his leg and begging to be taken care of. “I’m not that depraved.” He murmurs. Solas’s eyes close, and while he tries to think of more important matters, he can’t remove the image of Lavellan on top of him from his mind. The way she bounced on his lap, how her mouth felt against him, makes Solas bite his knuckles to hold back a moan. How she jittered when he marked her, claiming the Inquisitor all for himself as her neck bloomed with purple splotches from his sharp teeth and how quickly her release came from an action that felt as natural to Solas as blinking. Solas breathes in, then out through his nose, attempting to bring himself back to reality, but he can’t help but recall the offer she left on the table before Lavellan took her leave. Her lips would look so pretty wrapped around him, gagging and moaning as she would try to take him all the way, his tip hitting the back of her throat—

Solas jolts suddenly as his orgasm hits him like a slap against the face, the dark stain of cum now spreading down his thigh. Solas bites down hard on his palm, unable to fully hold his voice back as the smallest movement against his trousers prolongs his release even further. When the immense pleasure finally subsides, Solas opens one eye hesitantly to assess the damage. He groans into his hands, a conjured flame able to dry his clothes but not the Orlesian, and definitely expensive, couch.

It’s hours later when the morning sun rises over Halamshiral that the Inquisition takes their leave. Solas blearily rubs his eyes and yawns, although when he catches Lavellan’s smile he can’t help but reciprocate despite his weariness. The Iron Bull looks between the pair before laughing and slapping Solas on the shoulder. “Sleep well?” He asks simply, although Solas knows the Bull well enough to know that his questions are never simple.

“No, I had a long night.” Solas quips, eager to head back to Skyhold and be as far away from the Winter Palace as possible. The unspoken part being that he is more eager to finish what he started mere hours before.

“Yeah? Spend some time cleaning in the library?” The Iron Bull asks, looking at the way Solas and the Inquisitor blanche before guffawing loudly. As he walks away he shakes his head. “You guys are not fucking subtle.” 

[bg3daydream]

At the Winter Palace

Solas x Inquisitor Lavellan Fanfiction.

Summary: A short and fluffy one-shot about Solas' and Lavellan's night at the Winter Palace's ball. This is rated mature but not explicit. 2'3K words.

Stars shone over Haramshiral, but Inquisitor Lavellan was in no mood to appreciate them. She wasn’t sure what was worse, all the murders, threats, and conspiracy, or every decision again weighing on her shoulders, or all the mean gossip and cruel, passive-aggressive comments about her and her advisors and friends.

She’d gone to one of the more secluded balconies, trying to hide from it all for as long as possible. How the dancing, celebration, politicking, and gossiping continued after what had happened was beyond her understanding. Morrigan had followed her out, and it seemed now she’d be her advisor too. Lavellan still didn’t know what to make of her.

Lavellan leaned over the balcony's railing when Morrigan left, glad to have time alone, but someone else walked out to join her. This time it was Solas, though, and his presence was more than welcome.

“I’m not surprised to find you out here,” he said as he leaned over the railing next to her. “Thoughts?”

Too many… She didn’t even know where to start.

“We came here to prevent a murder. Instead, several murders happened and we, I, sanctioned one. That death is on me.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Solas said, matter of fact, Lavellan didn’t know how he could sound so unbothered. “And these people playing what they call The Game, they know what can happen to them.”

“Still…I’m not sure this was the right thing to do…” Lavellan let out a sigh and Solas placed a hand on the small of her back, comforting. “Everyone’s saying this is a victory for Orlais and for us, but it doesn’t feel like it, and we all know this is only a temporary victory.”

“You’re right, there’s much trouble ahead.” Solas nodded, caressing her back with his knuckles before pulling her a bit closer. “But for now, focus on what’s in front of you.”

Lavellan looked at him with a small smile, reaching to stroke the side of his face and cup his cheek with her palm. “You are in front of me,” she told him softly. 

Solas turned his head to kiss her palm, and Lavellan felt her heart swelling as she looked at him smiling at her. He was looking so carefree that night, way more at ease at the ball than she, as if he was actually enjoying it.

“I think you might be a bit drunk, my love,” Lavellan teased, caressing Solas' cheek again.

“I am not!” Solas huffed and Lavellan laughed.

“No? I remember you saying that the food and drink were excellent, and that the servants were happy to refill your glass. How many glasses did you have?” Lavellan kept her teasing.

“I didn’t count,” Solas answered and Lavellan snorted.

“Okay…but you’re not even a bit drunk.”

“Not at all.”

Solas leaned to her and Lavellan thought he was going to kiss her, but then he turned his face to look inside the palace and pulled back. Lavellan wondered if he’d noticed someone approaching, but before she could ask, Solas bowed to her and reached out his hand.

“Come, before the band stops playing, dance with me.”

It took Lavellan by surprise, and for a second she could only blink at Solas, but then she took his hand, her smile growing. Solas had sounded so excited and hopeful, as if he had really been wanting to dance with her, it made her feel twirling butterflies on her belly

“Id’ love to.”

Solas pulled her close, one hand holding hers, the other on her waist, and as they danced, Lavellan’s troubles and worries seemed to pause even if only for a moment. Soon, she found herself grinning, enjoying the moment between them, and her heart fluttered at the way Solas looked at her while they danced. It was the first time she enjoyed herself that evening, and perhaps the ball had been worth it just for that moment.

The band stopped but Solas didn’t, and Lavellan let Solas lead her without music, dancing for a bit longer. Eventually, she stopped, wrapping her arms around Solas’ shoulders, pulling him close and kissing him. Solas kissed her back, holding her to him so tight that Lavellan almost had to cling to him to keep her balance.

Lavellan pulled back from the kiss but kept her arms around Solas, while he still held her close. “I know I’m supposed to be in there, letting people see me and forging alliances but I want to stay here longer…stay with me? Unless you can wait to go back to all that court intrigue you seem to love so much…” She teased.

Solas chuckled, pecking her lips before answering. “I can sacrifice the pleasures of the Orlesian ball in order to keep the Inquisitor company,” he joked back.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, and Lavellan snuggled to his chest as they turned to look at the night sky again. Solas nuzzled her hair, then kissed the side of her head before leaning to kiss her lips. It was sweet, making Lavellan feel like she was melting as she kissed him back, holding to him.

She didn’t know when it had happened, but she knew she loved him, and she counted herself lucky that he seemed to love her too.

They stayed like that for a while, snuggled together, enjoying each other's company. Lavellan wouldn’t mind staying like that for the whole night, away from the ball and cuddled to Solas’ side, until they could watch the sunrise and finally go back to Skyhold.

They were interrupted sooner than they would have liked, though.

“Inquisitor…I’m sorry but you’re needed.” At Josephine’s voice, Lavellan pulled away from Solas and turned around to face her. 

Solas kept his hand on her waist, taking her by surprise. She didn’t mind it and she was certain pretty much every one of her companions and advisors knew that there was something between them, but still, Solas had been somewhat private about their relationship, and he’d mentioned how talks about the Inquisitor and an apostate elven mage may hurt the reputation Josephine was trying to craft.

“Sure…what happened now?” Lavellan tried not to sound annoyed, it was not Josephine’s fault.

“Nothing happened, but there’s a noble who’d like to speak with you, and we could really use the support of his house,” Josephine explained.

“Alright.” Lavellan sighed but gave Josephine a tired smile, before looking at Solas. “I’ll see you later, once all this is finished, please?”

She thought either Solas or Josephine might think it a bad idea, that they'd comment about the talk and gossip if someone knew about Solas going to the Inquisitor’s room that night, but he only nodded and Josephine graciously didn’t comment.

“Let’s go, then…”

*

When finally Lavellan was free to go to her room, she was more than glad to find Solas already there. He’d changed from his ball uniform back to casual clothes, and he was sitting down on the desk, reading, but he smiled at her as she walked in.

“Vhenan.”

“Love.” Lavellan greeted as she headed straight to the bed, dropping down on it with a tired sigh. “Finally it’s over. I can’t wait to go home tomorrow.”

“That bad?”

Lavellan wasn’t sure when she’d started to think of Skyhold as home, but at that moment, it felt like it.

Lavellan sighed and undid the buttons of the neck of her uniform, tugging at it. “Not bad, just….I don’t know, too much.  Everyone wants to speak to me, and I don’t know what to tell them or if I’m doing it right, despite Josephine's training, I think I’ve messed up a few times, and then some don’t come to speak to me but I can see them speaking about me, not nicely.” She scoffed.

“Pay them no mind, vhenan, you’ve done well today.”

Solas went to sit next to where she was lying, taking her legs and placing them on his lap. He unfastened the straps of her high boots and then took them off her, caressing her calves in the process. He did the same with her long gloves, tugging them down her arms and placing a kiss on each of her hands as he did.

“Thanks…” Lavellan gave him a soft smile, and she felt butterflies in her belly at his caring, sweet touch. “I probably shouldn’t be lying on a bunch of small knives.”

She sat up and unfastened her belt, which held three tiny blades to her back. She didn’t want to get up, and so she just dropped it to the floor. Next, she undid the cloth that wrapped around her waist like a belt and over her shoulder, and Solas helped her unwrap it from her, discarding it on the bed. Lastly, Lavellan undid the buttons of her jacket and took it off, dropping it to the floor next to the belt.

Once she was only on her undershirt and leggings, Lavellan leaned closer to kiss Solas’ lips before pulling back and falling on the mattress again. She tugged at Solas so he’d lie down with her and so he did, resting his head on her chest. Lavellan wrapped her arms around him, stroking his head softly.

“I’ve had enough of this court and its intrigue, but you’ll have to tell me about the ones you saw in the Fade.”

It took Solas a couple of seconds to answer. “You’ll fall asleep, vhenan.”

She snorted. “Right now, maybe yes. But I like it when you tell me about things you’ve seen in the Fade.” She felt Solas place a kiss on the arm that she’d wrapped around him, making her smile. “I don’t know how it was in the Fade but I didn’t like this court. I hated that they introduced you as the Inquisitor’s elven servant, it was not my doing.” 

Lavellan had wanted to speak up when it happened, but she knew it wouldn’t have been well received and she didn’t want to stress Josephine more.

“I know, vhenan. It didn’t work as I hoped, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobles act like servants are invisible, talk as if they’re not around. I’d thought perhaps I could hear them say something of interest that they’d not say around you or your advisors,” Solas explained. “But it seems they took care not to gossip around me.”

“That’s smart.” Lavellan hadn’t thought of it that way. “There was this woman, though, she was talking about you, calling you the Inquisitor’s pet mage.” She scoffed, angry again just thinking about it. “I could have punched her. I think Josephine saw it on my face because suddenly she dragged me away because apparently I needed to be somewhere else.”

Solas chuckled, he didn’t seem as upset as Lavellan by what had happened. “You don’t need to defend my honor, vhenan,” he joked.

Lavellan brushed her fingers down Solas’ cheek and to his chin, gently lifting his head from her chest to make him look at her. “I’m going to do it anyway.”

Solas gave her a small, half smile, moving over her to kiss her. Lavellan kissed him back, her arms still wrapped around him.

What started soft and sweet soon turned heated, the kiss deepening as Solas pressed his body against hers, and Lavellan opened her legs further to accommodate his hips between hers.

Lavellan slid her hands under Solas’ shirt, caressing his warm skin, and he moaned softly into the kiss. His hips pinned her and she could feel him already hardening against her. Liquid heat pooled in Lavellan’s belly and she pressed her thighs harder against his sides.

One of Solas’ hands rested at the side of her head, his fingers tangling on her hair, and he slid his other hand up her thigh, stopping at the side of her butt, squeezing. Lavellan gasped, moaning against his lips as she lifted her hips to press her heat against him.

Lavellan tried to pull him even closer, if that was possible, but Solas did the opposite, pulling back. He was breathing hard, his eyes closed tight before he opened them to look at her.

“Solas?” Lavellan called his name softly when he didn’t say anything, and she stroked his face, cupping his cheek. “Something wrong?”

Solas swallowed hard before answering. “You should rest, vhenan.”

“I’m not tired.” All the events of the ball had drained her and she felt more than done with it, but Solas’ kisses had awakened her in more than one way. “But…it’s okay if you want to stop.”

It was not the first time Solas stopped and pulled back after stealing her breath and all thoughts with his kisses and touches. She didn’t understand why, and it was not that Lavellan wanted to press him for sex, not at all, but she could feel he wanted her too, and she didn’t know why he always stopped. He never said anything and she wasn’t sure how to ask without seeming pushy.

“Want is not the word I’d use,” Solas murmured, pulling further away from her and sitting up. Lavellan reached for his hand, afraid he might actually leave.

“Then?” She asked but Solas said nothing. “You can tell me…” She whispered.

Solas looked away from her. His eyes were sad, she’d noticed it before sometimes, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t know what was the cause of that sadness in him, and she wouldn’t push him to tell her, no matter how much she wanted to know. She could just hope one day he’d tell her.

“You’re right, we should rest.” She told him softly.

Lavellan blew the candles at the bedside table, still holding Solas’ hand, and got comfortable on the pillows. She tugged at Solas’ hand gently so he’d lie down with her again. He seemed hesitant for a second, but soon he was curling up with her, his head pillowed on her chest.

Lavellan wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her, one of her hands caressing his head, and she placed a kiss on top of it.

“Goodnight, my love,” she whispered.

Solas didn’t say anything, but she felt him snuggling even closer to her.

*

NA:

I just need to write fluffy, sweet things for this two while hoping they'll have happines in Veilguard.

I debated for so long about writing smut in this, I kept going back and forth, but finally Solas decided for me somehow, I kept trying to write it and he'd stop it (I know he's fictional and I write it but...I can't explain the feeling), words wouldn't flow anymore...she here we are, I decided to end the fic like this.

I might write a smutty one (as Cassandra would say), because I keep having thoughts of Lavellan and Solas on his couch and his desk..., if anyone's interested, we'll see if Mr.Solas agrees to smut the next time.

Thanks for taking the time to read this. If you liked it, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

I hope to write more Solavellan, if anyone would be interested in reading it, although writing Solas is incredibly intimidating. But if you have something you want to see writen, let me know.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

[prettybadathis]

Somnairu

Solas's promise to Somnairu was that once the breech was closed and Corepheus was defeated, he would reveal the truth. However, upon the victory of the final battle, Solas instead disappeared, only visiting Somnairu in his dreams, rescuing him from the nightmares that chased him every night. With each dream, Somnairu became more and more determined to reunite with his love at any cost. Once they're together, at last, nothing in the entire world could stop them. That is, of course, unless the entire world around them is nothing but a fabrication of one's imagination, clinging onto what could have been, wishing this reality was the truth. Which is it, even? Surely it is real... It feels real, sounds real, smells real. Reality never felt like this before but, then again, before now he'd been apart from his lover. Perhaps this is the work of what love does to someone's psyche? But then, the pain- throbbing, torturing, terrible turmoil. It stung, singeing, scorching, stirring his consciousness.

"Sh, sh, sh... Hush, vhenan, just sleep..." A valley of greenery speckled with flowers washes over the scenery, greeting him with a golden sunset. A warm, familiar hand reaches him, offering a gentle, welcome embrace...

[elvyn]

Interesting how one sad worm almost turned the world upside down

[cursedhaglette]

Letters We Should've Sent

Eight years pass and they both keep track of it, words they didn't share but should have. Words that might have made all the difference.

(very minor DAV spoilers sprinkled throughout)

Rating: T? If that? Word Count: 4,880

[ao3 link]

Preview

Solas, 

I am on my way to Orlais, and the sunrise is clearing the fog from a meadow where I’ve made camp, and I am thinking of you. Thinking of moments like this from years past, where we would rise before the others and walk to the edge of our campsite for a few stolen moments alone at dawn. I cannot help but wonder if you might think of them too, wherever you are now. Is it warm there? Are you in a city? The mountains? 

To have known it all, or what felt like it all, for so long, and now to have nothing is a wound I fear will never heal. How am I supposed to look at these places we once walked together the same way? How am I supposed to continue on like this - like everything is just how it was?

You are gone and I am…this. A woman broken by grief and anger and duty. Someone I no longer like or recognize and I’m sure you wouldn’t either. 

All anyone sees anymore is The Inquisitor. Even with the inquisition disbanded. 

I am no longer a woman or an elf or a person at all. I haven’t been in so long. I have become something other, entirely not my own and yet not belonging to anyone in particular either. I am not a figurehead of the chantry or a single nation, I do not belong to the humans or the elves or anyone else. It feels as though I have given away a small piece of myself to everyone that’s ever asked and now I am hollowed out, staring at a sunrise and wishing I had left it all behind to end the world with you. 

I can’t keep myself from writing letters, filling pages and pages with thoughts I wish I were mindlessly sharing with you, knowing I’ll never send them.

I don’t even know if I ought to write vhenan on these letters anymore. To write my love on paper feels foolish, even if you’ll never see it. But then you know - you have to know. I will never love another as I loved you. I will never see another sunrise and think of anything but the mornings where you told me you loved me and always would.

Were you the god of lies even then? 

-Morinne

[ashcashyy]

lol I’ve been pumping out so much content this past week 💀

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon: The Day The World Disappeared, Part III (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

Rook is trapped in the Fade. Spite is determined to get her out.

Word Count: ~ 3.7 k

Part I

Part II

Spite Dellamorte is in the raw Fade once again.

He had followed the journal’s essence back to the ruins of her village the moment Lucanis finally fell asleep earlier that evening.

Lucanis had taken to planning the approach of Rook’s rescue with Emmrich and Bellara. They spent hours agonizing over the logistics of getting to Rook’s village in rural Tevinter. Whether they’d sail from Antiva with the Crows or travel inland with the Veil Jumpers. How many mages they’d need, how much Lyrium to bring, whether or not the plan with the Resonance Amplifiers would even work.

Spite didn’t have the patience for any of it. He wouldn’t wait until they were in Tevinter to get her out.

So, he comes to her corner of the Fade while Lucanis dreams, and stares at the void.

The prison that holds Rook captive floats in the ruins of her family home. Harsh waves of magical energy ripple out, causing distortions in the surrounding environment. It reminds him of the Ossuary that Lucanis had kept them both a prisoner of, even after their escape. A little pocket of the Fade, within the Fade. Inescapable – without the right key.

Reminds him of Rook, the key to every lock that was keeping them trapped.

He would not let her suffer the same fate. If he wasn’t going to get her out for his own sake – that he enjoyed Rook’s antics, then he would do it to keep Lucanis from being paralyzed again. Better yet, he would do it to spite the Dread Wolf, that he may wrench victory from the God’s grasp by freeing the lynch pin to his downfall. The thought made him positively giddy with excitement.

Spite feels the journal tugging him towards her, bringing him closer the black hole’s orbit. So dense, so powerful, he thinks he’ll be split apart if he enters its gravitational pull.

And yet he must. So, he will.

Spite hesitantly unfurls spectral black-and-purple wings to give him more stability against the force of the prison’s magic. The demon braces himself and takes a few hesitant steps towards the black hole. The strength of the pull is enough to tear him to pieces, even at this distance. It feels like being shred apart from the inside and the outside at the same time – pushed and pulled into infinite directions. This prison was not going to make it easy to enter.

It’s a good thing he is as stubborn as Rook.

The essence of the journal thrums loudly in his chest, resonating with the pull of the prison. It was calling to her, and she, knowingly or not, was calling back.

She. Wants. Out. Dread Wolf. Wants Her In.

And that was all the motivation he needed to take another step forward.

But the closer he got to the prison, the more difficult it became to even think straight. He was being crushed under the weight of raw power. It was bearing down on him from every direction. He holds a gloved hand out in front of him, and it distorts like it’s been put under water. The demon growls in frustration and inches closer.

He’s near enough to reach out and touch the void, but the air around it is so heavy he can barely lift his arm. It’s like moving through molasses. He clenches his teeth. With a beat of his wings, and a low snarl of frustration, Spite does manage to touch it. Spite’s hand distorts such that his fingers are stretched out like the … what was it called – spaghetti, that Lucanis is so fond of? Searing pain shoots up his arm, like something he’s never experienced before. He grits his teeth. The deep pit of black ripples at his touch but it doesn’t open.

Spite, not one to be bested by some strange magical thing he doesn’t quite understand, beats his wing and launches himself closer, attempting to put his whole hand through. The prison both pulls and repulses him, the pressure nearly buckling his legs.

When it doesn’t budge, Spite fights gravity to raise his free arm to his chest and instead, focuses on the journal.

He grips his chest, and pulls at its essence, drawing as much power from it as he can.

The familiar blue light erupts from his chest and mixes with the void, two magics entwining and repulsing like oil and water. The waves of energy are just powerful enough to create a small opening, tiny enough that he can see the Fade within the Fade. It looks like another replica of the current Arvanitum – but this one is not in ruins. It looks perfectly preserved, as if frozen in time.

Spite clenches his jaw and with no small effort, brings his other hand to try and pull the prison apart. His attempts falter as the prison continues to reject him, but through the small opening the demon spies Rook’s childhood home, standing on the hill with soft orange candlelight flickering through the windows.

The journal reacts more strongly now, acting like a tether between him and the girl inside. The tugging in his chest becomes more uncomfortable, almost painful. The opening gets marginally larger, but not enough for him to pass through.

Finally, he feels the weight of futility falling on his shoulders, as his strength gives out and the opening collapses before him. Spite retreats back several steps, until he’s out of range of the prison’s gravitational pull. The demon lets out a frustrated growl.

Mierda.

He doesn’t like failure. But if he’s learned anything from watching Rook, failure is a teacher.

And the failed attempt does give him an idea.

It’s not something he’s ever tried, but instinctually knows he should be able to do. After all, he chose this form – chose to look like his host. He should be able to choose something else. And they are in the raw Fade - it’s much easier for him to be what he is here.

He thinks with a smaller form, and more speed, he can use the journal to force his way into the prison.

Spite pictures his and Lucanis’ namesake.

A Crow. I will send. My regards.

The demon flutters his wings, imagines them smaller, more compact. Shrinks himself down to the size of a small bird. The process is painful and uncomfortable, like bones breaking and reforming. When the process is done, Spite takes a moment to consider his new form. The feathers, claws, and sharp beaks – he likes. But at this size, he was hardly menacing. Thankfully, he doesn’t need menacing for this particular job.

With a beat of his wings and launches into the air. Spite, although smaller, can still feel the journal’s essence pulsating behind a plume of black and purple feathers.

Drawing on the power of the journal, he circles the air above the prison.

He flies a little higher, folds his wings against his back, and dives towards the prison. As Spite draws closer to the gravitational pull, that familiar feeling of being crushed under the weight of unimaginable pressure starts building, but he won’t let it slow him down. He pushes through the pain and keeps falling.

Falling, falling, and falling.

And the magic keeps ripping, tearing, and crushing.

Just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore, that he’ll be torn to pieces, he manages to push through the walls of the prison.

Spite lands on the dirt ground in front of her family home. The lights are on, and he can see movement from one of the upstairs windows. A small, lone shadow, moving about. The journal flickers brightly, and there’s that familiar tugging sensation in his chest.

Rook.

~*~

Madeleina Mercar mills about her room while her father sleeps, and her mother tends to the shop downstairs. She has lavender-scented candles filling the room with their sweet, heady, aroma. It smells like mother, like home.

And she is so very happy to be home.

She hums an old lullaby her father used to play on the lyre when she was smaller. She’s outgrown lullabies, but not stories. Never stories. She wonders which one he’ll tell tonight. He regaled her with the story of the Sleeping Princess, her favourite, last night.

And the night before that.

And the night before that.

Madeleina shakes her head.

There was a long time between now and story time. There were chores to be done, and after, she would go down and help her mother with the shop.

As she did the day before.

And the day before that.

Her mother had come in earlier and asked her to organize her books and clothes. Although her work is inherently messy, she despises mess. A contradiction the young Madeleina finds both endearing and frustrating in equal measure.

So, she shuffles back and forth, carting books into the small bookshelf in the corner, and haphazardly folded clothes into wooden drawers.

She’s about to start making her bed, when a rhythmic tapping noise gets her attention first. Madeleina, mid-step, turns towards the sound. She spies a small crow, one with unusual glowing purple eyes and brilliant black-and-violet plumage, sitting on her windowsill. Familiar purple eyes that turn her stomach.

She thinks it strange but decides to continue with her chores. She’s seeing things. It was just a trick of the light. Stop staying up so late, her mother’s phantom voice chides in the back of her mind.

The blanket is barely in her hands when the tapping, more aggressive now, resumes.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The crow fluffs its feathers and tilts its head innocently. Clearly not going anywhere. By now, she’s willing to consider the possibility she may not be seeing things.

“Rook”

The blanket drops from her hands. Her mouth hangs open stupidly.

The crow was speaking? To her?

“Let. Me. In” The crow demands, in a low, gravelly voice. Familiar. Like it’s eyes.

She doesn’t know what to do but stand there, still as a tree.

Animals don’t usually speak. Or have glowing purple eyes. It must be a demon of some sorts, come to possess her. Madeleina wants to run to her father’s bedroom, wake him and tell him to make it go away, but her feet stay planted in place. She wants to scream but only a soft breath escapes her lips. She wants her heart to start beating with fear and adrenaline.

But it doesn’t. It’s perfectly calm.

If this thing is a demon, then it’s one her body doesn’t feel uneasy around. And that frightens her.

“Let. Me. In.” The crow repeats and taps on the window again for good measure.

This was a terrible idea.

It’s going to possess me, it’s going to possess me. Madeleina repeats the sentence like a mantra as her feet carry her to the window. She wants to say they’re doing so against her will, but a small part of her knows that would be a lie.

The latch clicks as the window swings open, and the crow wastes no time flitting about her room in a daze of black and violet, before settling on the back of her chair. The young girl merely folds her hands in front of her and regards it wearily.

“Are you a demon?” She asks quietly, after a moment.

The bird nods. “I. Am. Spite.”

“Have you … have you come to possess me?”

It tilts his head, and almost looks offended at the question. “Come. To bring. You home. Rook.”

Madeleina mirrors the bird and tilts her head too. “I am home” She replies firmly.

“Not here. Not. Your home.” Spite says, “Come. With me. Rook.”

The young girl’s small fingers make fists at her side. What a stubborn little demon.

“You keep calling me Rook. Why? I don’t know that name”

“You. Are. Rook” The bird answers.

Madeleina shakes her head, and her thick ropey braid swings over her shoulder. “No, I’m not. I’m … I’m …”

I am … I’m … My name is …

It ruffles its feathers and looks like it’s about to peck her eyes out of her skull.

“You. Are. Rook.” The bird’s unnaturally deep voice says firmly, “Smell. Like Lavender and Rosewater. Chocolate and Cinnamon and Thunderstorms.”

It points a long, sharp beak towards the window.

“Lucanis. Waiting for you. And Your Stories”

Madeleina takes a few steps back and sits on the edge of her bed. She slowly ponders the name, turns it over in her mind like a stone she’s about to whip across a lake.

Lucanis.

Why is that name so familiar? The smell of chocolate and coffee fills her nostrils again. The warmth of a fire lingers on her skin. Then, the taste of something she’s never had on her tongue. It’s sweet, doughy, and powdered with cinnamon. She doesn’t have a name for it, but she knows it.

Madeleina closes her eyes and focuses on the new sensations – smell, touch, taste. All that is missing is sight. Why can’t she see, in her mind’s eye, what the crow is talking about? It was like trying to recall a dream right when you wake. A memory that slips through her fingers like trying to hold water.

“I …” She starts slowly, not quite sure what she wants to say. A sentence half-forms on her lips, then quickly unspools at the seams. Her lips press into a hard line, as she finds her confidence, “I don’t know that name. You must be mistaking me for someone else”

The bird flutters its tail feathers, irate at her rebuttal.

“You. Are. Rook” It repeats the same line with a surety that frightens her.

She doesn’t want there to be truth to it.

“You. Don’t remember.” The bird continues, “I. Will make. You remember.”

Madeleina wraps her arms around her knees, drawing in close to herself. She regards the crow carefully. “How do you even know me?”

“Freed us from. The Ossuary. Lucanis knows you. Lucanis and I. Are one. You made it so”

The Ossuary. That name should mean nothing to her. But the scent of brine and sulphur fill her nostrils, despite being hundreds of miles from the Nocen sea. The faint sensation of something horrible happening, in some place far, far, away.

“I’ve… done no such thing. And as I said before, I don’t know this ‘Lucanis’ you keep mentioning” Madeleina says, a touch more defensive. She points towards the window, “I think it’s time for you to leave, Mr. Crow – er, Spite”

The crow fluffs up and settles onto the chair. A round, black-and-purple ball of defiance. Frustratingly true to its name and nature.

“I will not.”Spite replies, “Not. Without you.”

Madeleina huffs. She has half a mind to pick the bird up and throw it out the window. It is only the sharp beak that keeps her from doing it. That, and she promised her mother she wouldn’t trouble animals any further. Although, she’s certain her mother would make allowances for demons who’ve overstayed their welcome.

“Fine, then I’m going to sleep. You can stay there all day and all night. I’m not leaving” With a dramatic flourish, she turns towards the wall, throws her blanket over her, and pretends to nap. She shuts her eyes tight and hugs her blanket close. The picture of petulant, childish resistance.

The bird clicks and grinds its beak but doesn’t speak any further. Nor does she hear the fluttering of wings flying out of her window, as she hoped to.

“Once. Upon a time. In a land far. Far away” Spite begins after a few minutes of silence, in that familiar-but-not-quite patterned and disjointed speech.

Madeleina’s eyes fly open, but she doesn’t move. Only listens.

“King and Queen. They wanted. A baby. Couldn’t have one!”

Her heart beats uncomfortably quick in her chest. She tries to keep her breathing even as he continues.

“Queen goes. To a Spirit. Demon in disguise. Uses blood magic to have the baby”

It’s not the content of the story that’s making her nervous, it’s the emotions and memories they’re stirring up. The Sleeping Princess was a popular enough tale that it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for even a demon to rehash the plot, albeit clumsily. But there’s something more to it – a missing piece of this very strange puzzle.

“Lucanis. Waits for what happens next. But you stop. And take a break” The crow continues, “You stop. And his heart. Beats faster. He waits for you. Only you.”

There’s the smell of chocolate and cinnamon again. The warmth of a fire. But now she has a faint memory of a fireplace, one very different from the modest mantle in her home. It’s larger, more ornate. Made of a different kind of stone, she thinks. Madeleina is sitting on a wooden chair across from someone who’s face she can’t quite make out. The form is shadowed, but clearly that of a man’s. She couldn’t discern his features properly. She takes a sip of something warm, and he does the same.

Madeleina feels like they’ve done this many times and never at all.

“You show him. Wonders in front. Of his eyes. Stories brought to life. With magic. He measures nights. By your tales. Days. Waiting for the next.”

Madeleina covers her ears and curls up into a ball.

No, no, no.

This isn’t right. These memories are not hers. She doesn’t know this demon. The Ossuary means nothing to her. Nor does a man named Lucanis.

She is … She is a girl who lives in Arvanitum, with her parents. The baker and the bard and their daughter. Madeleina plays in the forest and learns the lyre and lute, she reads books and listens to her father’s stories every night. She’s learning to bake tartes from her mother, but always ends up burning them.

She is not what this demon says.

She is not Rook.

“Come. With me. Come. Ho- “

Spite squawks in surprise as her bedroom door flies open. The demonic crow escapes through the open window not even a moment later, as her mother enters her room.

Eurydice spies her daughter curled up on the bed, covering her ears.

“Darling, are you alright? I heard voices – “

Madeleina shoots up quickly and hugs her mother tightly the moment she’s within arm’s reach. A surprised ‘Oompf’ escapes her mother’s lips, but she circles her arms around the girl a moment later.

There’s another memory, different from the ones the crow’s story evoked. This one gave her an even stranger sense of deja-vu. An argument between them that happened on a day just like this. Something minor or silly, she thinks. Madeleina spent the rest of the day hiding out by the edge of the forest, drawing doodles in the dirt with a stick until it was dark. Orpheus had come to collect her on his way back from work, and she was still scowling the entire way home.

So much time wasted.

She hugs her mother closer, and tears are falling before any words even leave her mouth.

“I’m s-sorry” Madeleina whimpers.

Her mother is eerily silent as she starts brushing her fingers through Madeleina’s braided hair, and keeps an arm wrapped tightly around her.

A little too tightly.

~ *~

Lucanis Dellamorte awakes from slumber with a violent jolt.

Spite had come crashing back into him without warning, sending every fiber of his being on high alert.

He makes a strangled, gasping noise and shoots upright from his spot on Rook’s couch, with his heart pounding in his chest. He’s once again bathed in the familiar blue-green light of the panoramic ocean view in her room. Every time he wakes up here, there’s a small pang of fear that he’s back in the Ossuary. It quickly settles when he’s able to touch the velveteen fabric of the couch and hear the familiar clicking of her magical device in the corner. Little reminders that this was a place of comfort, of safety, and not the seat of his worst memories.

As Lucanis is busy gathering his thoughts, Spite wastes no time manifesting in front of him. The demon looks more irate than usual. He’s pacing back and forth, with gloved fingers curled into fists at his side.

Lucanis takes a deep breath, steadies himself and speaks.

“What happened, Spite?”

The demon stops his frantic pacing and scowls at its host.

“Rook. Is. A. Child.” He spits out. “Doesn’t. Listen to me! No one. Listens. To Spite!”

Lucanis’ face drops, and he’s on his feet a moment later.

“You saw her? In the Fade?” If the demon had a body, Lucanis would have a death grip on his shoulders.

Spite throws a hand in the air, “Tried. To get her. To come home. She won’t. Listen.”

Lucanis frowns. He’s so impatient he wants to leap out of his own skin.

“What did you see, Spite? I need to know” He doesn’t bother hiding the desperation in his voice. He doesn’t need to hide anything with Spite anymore.

“Dread Wolf’s prison. Made her small. A child again. Doesn’t remember us.”

His heart sinks into the pit of his stomach. The prison was making her forget Spite? Forget him? The situation was worse than he could have imagined. Fear and anxiety and horror clawed their way into his chest, putting down deep roots like he hadn’t experienced since his time in the Ossuary. This couldn’t be happening. He can’t lose her like this.

Spite touches the left side of his chest, where a heart would be if he was human.

“The journal. A little weaker.”

Lucanis runs a shaking hand through his hair and exhales nervously.

“She smells like blood and sulphur and iron. Dread Wolf’s blood magic. Using her memories. To keep her trapped.” Spite continues, before putting a spectral hand on Lucanis’ shoulder.

“Running. Out of time. Need to get. Rook out. Now.”

So, Solas used blood magic to go through her memories so as to keep her locked away. Lucanis can’t say he’s surprised the conniving Fen’Harel would pull a stunt like that. It does little to settle his temper, though. White hot rage bubbles under his skin, crackling like lightning. Spite feels it too, as he merges back with his host. Eyes burning bright violet as their spectral wings unfurled.

Lucanis doesn’t know how they were going to get her out.

But he does know that his target list went from two gods, to three.

--------------------------

A huge shoutout to @teawithshakespeare for helping me out with this chapter, it honestly wouldn't have happened without ur help. Srsly thank you so much for letting me ramble in your DM's about these two!!

Thanks again to everyone for reading, I appreciate you all!!

[jessicapendragon]

Solavellan Fics

I have so so many more, but here are some of my short favs.

Only Fools Here - It's the moment he knows neither of them will escape unscathed.

The Ideal - “What would you have become, if not for your magic?”

A Balm for These Bruises - Solas attempts to lighten the burdens of his traveling companions.

I Thirst For Your Rivers - He lets her see more than most and wishes he could be more.

Mark Me - Lavellan discovers a few more of Solas' freckles.

A Skilled Tongue - A language lesson becomes...heated.

What You Loathe - She has never been one to give up so easily(post breakup).

Only Ever A Circle - It has taken so long(for her, for him) to get here. But they are here(Veilguard).

Opal - She was rather observant from the start.

No One in the World - The wolf comes to her every night and she tells him she loves him. AU Angst

The Wolf's Dream & A Better Legacy - AU family fics

A Fair and Merciful Queen - AU of A Bad(ass) Ending

Here's another masterpost with a variety of fics too, plus my whole collection of Solavellan on AO3. Enjoy!

[s0lavellan]

Solavellan Fanfic Recs

Check back for frequent updates! 🤍

Post Veilguard

Walk You to the Shore

To Where Your Soul Travels, There Go I

Roll Away Your Strone

The Dread Wolf’s Path

Inquisition Times

Servitude

Sunlight

God Touched

Beloved

Isalathe (A/B/O)

Modern AU

Watchdog

[luzial]

Sat with this myself for the weekend and finally decided it's time to share. Like I said, the wonderful @cowboyandcricket got me a Cameo from David Gareth-Lloyd for Christmas this year. He's reading a letter from Song (aka Solas) from my fic In And Out of Time Again.

In And Out of Time Again is a retelling of How to Lose the Time War - a book which felt like it rewrote my brain the first time I read it. It's the story of two agents, working on opposing sides in a war, who fall in love with each other through letters.

To have one of those letters read in Solas' voice? Yeah. You all know how I'm feeling about that. I will never recover.

[vir-bellanaris]

Uttering the battle cry of her people, Lavellan launched herself toward the sundering goliath of rock and fractured spirit.

Solas shouted a surprised curse, making a gesture and covering her body in a magical barrier right before she impacted.

He transformed into wolf-form and leapt into the fray, taking advantage of the opening Lavellan had created.

His jaws clenched around the semblance of a brittle neck, cracking it like dry grass under a boot.

Shards of lyrium shattered icelike from the massive creature’s form, pulsing veins of red oozed magma blood which ran in rivulets down its distorted and crumbling body.

The Dread Wolf paced between it and where Lavellan stood recovering.

She braced hands on knees, catching her breath.  Solas’ magic had protected her from the brunt of the blows, shielding her from the massive clublike hands.

It was a sentient construct of twisting shadow and pulsing blue lyrium, that much she knew.  Lavellan could also ascertain it was tied to the unrest of the Titans somehow and had sensed their presence enter the Fade, particularly that of Solas.

She gathered herself, walking to where the great wolf stood gazing at the smoldering heap.

She reached out tentatively at first, her fingers pushing through black smoking energy roiling off him.  

Her hand found his flank, the tough hide surprisingly sensitive as it twitched at the touch.  The Dread Wolf’s head turned from its vigil, three glowing blue eyes shone upon her, the milky pupils moving individually until they rested upon her face.  

The snarl twisting the canine mouth eased, the glint of his long fangs disappeared.

Lavellan stepped forward, running her hand up his body like a guide, her eyes never wavering from his.  

When she was inches from his snout she smiled, his presence filling her with a sense of comfort rather than that of mortal dread.  

She moved her mechanical hand up, reaching the palm of it towards the large wolven nose, the green flaring of the anchor sputtering once up her shoulder and neck.

Only when she hesitated, a hair’s breadth from the long nose, did his many eyes close and he pushed gently into her palm.

“Solas.” A low murmur left her, awe and love welling pools of emotion in her eyes.

Cyan light shimmered around his form which twisted and shrunk until it was his cheek that her palm cupped, his familiar smile her thumb traced.

A slow grin spread across Lavellan’s face. “Just like old times, huh?  With some added dramatics.”

Solas shook his head, fond but stern. “If by that you mean throwing yourself bodily at the enemy, then yes.”

“I’m efficient.”  Her smile didn’t fade.  She felt his fingers caressing gently along her chin and under her bottom lip.

“You’re reckless.”

“Same thing most of the time.”

“Vhenan.”

She mimicked his exasperated tone. “Solas.”

He kissed her, rubbing his nose against hers, allowing himself a moment to really taste her and feel her breath on his tongue.

When he pulled back, Lavellan felt slightly dazed. “Besides, I have you.”

He stared down at her, his lips twitching at the winded expression on her face. “You do have me.”  He conceded with a soft sigh.  “Better still, I have you.”

A faint glimmering caught Lavellan’s attention, her face turning as she squinted in the direction of the crumbled titanesque body.

Read the rest here

To Where Your Soul Travels, There Go I - Chapter 8 - MysticAwareness - Dragon Age: Inquisition [Archive of Our Own]

[fiadoesart]

"Rooks Obsession"

PART 1 / PART 2 / maybe I'll do a part 3

I sadly have to split this in two part as it exceeds the limit.

This is a self serving Rook X Solas work. I am no comic artist nor a writer but I've always loved the epilogue slides at the end of Trespasser so I wanted to give it a go.

I might do some more slides that cover the more major events in the game leading to the end.

[bg3daydream]

Together (Post-DATV Solavellan fanfiction)

Solas x Female Inquisitor Lavellan Fanfiction.

Summary: Lavellan takes care of Solas once they leave, finally together, after the last battle. Hurt/Comfort and Fluff. 2300 words. Please be mindful of Spoilers if you haven't finished the game.

Lavellan looked around once more, equal parts mesmerized and confused. She didn’t know what she’d expected when Solas took them into the Fade, or where she had thought they were going.

Considering how both Solas’ and Rook’s prisons of regrets seemed to have been, and her own unwilling ventures into the Fade, she’d braced herself for the outcome, and sure, she’d caught brief glimpses of darkness and ruin, but that was nothing like the room she was now in.

It was odd, it shouldn’t make sense, a room like that shouldn’t exist, but there it was, somehow making sense, a room that seemed to combine the places her heart had once called home. Her aravel, back when she lived and traveled with her clan, her room at Skyhold and Solas’ rotunda.

Those shouldn’t go together, they should clash, not combine, the construction made no sense, and if Lavellan stared at it too hard, it’d begin looking too odd, but she wasn’t going to. She supposed it was a thing of the Fade, how it took things from you, changing from people to people, and combined it in strange ways, much like dreams did.

She’d have followed Solas almost everywhere, but she wouldn’t lie to herself saying that she hadn’t been worried about what that somewhere might be. She might not have as heavy of a weight of regrets over her shoulders as Solas did, but she knew too well her own mistakes, and she was relieved she didn’t have to dwell on them.

She’d been confident, or at least had tried to be, that, no matter where they went, it wouldn't be that horrible if Solas and she were together. It seemed that, thankfully, she’d been right, and the Fade’d decided to be kinder.

Lavellan tore her attention away from the impossible, changing room, and focused on the beaten man with her.

Solas had seemed taken aback by their location too, looking at the room in wonder, but he was now looking at the ground, seeming defeated and almost cowering on himself, and he hadn’t said a single word. Lavellan was used to her tall, proud, confident Solas, and seeing him like that killed her.

Still, she tried to put on her best face as she approached him. She’d do everything she could to make him feel better.

“So…it seems we’re home.” She reached to take his hands and Solas let her but he still wouldn’t look at her.

Solas shook his head almost imperceptibly at her words. “I shouldn’t have dragged you here.” 

As many times before, his words seemed at odds with his actions, saying that while he held to her hand almost desperately, like he was afraid she might just disappear and leave him there, alone.

“Here looks pretty homey,” Lavellan tried to sound nonchalant, as if she wasn’t in the Fade, somewhere, just a bad step away from perhaps falling into a nightmarish Fade-pit of regret, still unsure if she could leave the Fade at will or not, or how everything worked.

Solas shook his head again. “You know what I mean.”

She did, he too wondered if he’d trapped her in a Fade-shaped prison, but she was not going to let him rethink his actions of taking her with him and add a new regret. Besides, she’d gone willingly, she was the one who had followed.

“You didn’t drag me, I wanted to go with you,” she assured him, “and we’re going to be okay.”

Solas looked at her with sad, liquid eyes, and Lavellan’s heart squeezed painfully. She tugged him closer so she could hold him and Solas folded into her, leaning his forehead against hers, and she could almost feel the weight of his sorrow.

“Thank you.” Solas’ voice was a choked whisper and Lavellan held him to her in silence, caressing the back of his head.

She’d have stayed like that for as long as Solas wished, and she herself wanted nothing more than to bask in his embrace now that they were together, but he was hurt and exhausted, and if he wasn’t going to tend to himself properly, then she would.  When she tried to move, though, Solas held to her tighter as if afraid of letting her go.

Lavellan pulled back so she could look at his face and give him a soft smile, reaching to caress his cheek with her knuckles, mindful of his bruises, and Solas leaned into her touch.

“I’m no expert, but I think one should rinse archdemon’s blood from their mouth.” She tried to sound lighthearted, even though she was worried Solas might get sick, but she tried not to think it much.

Solas nodded, and he finally let go of her to approach a stone sink that was in the corner of the big room, and that Lavellan thought wasn’t there before but she tried not to question it. She’d heard Rook and her team talking about their base, the Lighthouse, their rooms there, that kept appearing out of nowhere, how there was a kitchen with a dinning-hall, how it seemed to have been Solas’ home at some point, and they also seemed to think he’d made it.

Lavellan wanted to ask him about it, and she wanted to know how the Fade worked and the making of things in it, but that could wait until he’d rested and healed, and processed everything that had happened.

No sooner had Solas rinsed the archdemon’s blood, Lavellan was already pulling him closer to kiss him properly. His arms wrapped around her instantly, almost as if by instinct, as he kissed her back deeply, holding her like he was melting into her, and Lavellan could cry, she’d missed this…

Solas’d always made her forget about everything around them when they kissed, but a small, painted groan against her lips when she held him a bit too tight, reminded her that he was still hurt.

Lavellan pulled back and gently unwrapped his arms from around her but held to his hands. “You’re still bleeding, vhenan,” she told him softly. “Let me help.”

She walked him to the bed in the middle of the room, which looked comfier than Lavellan had expected from the Fade, and that reminded her of her Skyhold bed but with a dalish quilt. She pushed Solas gently so he’d sit down on it.

“See,” she began softly, trying to give him a reassuring smile. “Homey.”

Solas gave her a small smile, but his eyes were still pools of sadness. “Because of you. It’s only like this because of you.”

Lavellan wasn’t sure if he was right or not, and to what extent, but she’d decided not to question whatever good things the Fade decided to provide for them. Without a word, she leaned to kiss his forehead before she pulled back and headed to the stone sink.

There was a basin on the wooden cabinet next to the sink, along with a small towel and a clean cloth, and Lavellan tried again not to question how or why, if those things were there before or if the Fade had conjured them itself because she’d wanted them…and she was far too tired to wonder about maybe having conjured them herself.

She filled the basin with water and brought it to the bed, along with the towel and cloth, and left it all on the mattress, next to Solas, careful not to spill any of the water. 

Lavellan dipped the cloth into the basin, wrung the excess water, and began to carefully wash the blood and dirt from Solas’ face and head, mindful of his cuts, open wounds, and bruises. 

Solas let her do it in silence, allowing her to tilt and move his head as she pleased while she cleaned him. His eyes were closed, and a small sigh escaped his lips as he leaned into her touch, as if he were enjoying it. It warmed her heart.

Once his head was clean enough, Lavellan changed the towel from the cloth, and she carefully dabbed and cleaned the cuts over his face and head. She hated to hurt him and she flinched whenever she made him hiss in pain, but she knew it had to be done, and she soothed him with quiet, soft words.

The cut that ran from his forehead to his cheek, across his eye, was the worst, but at least it didn’t seem to have damaged the eye. Lavellan was inspecting it, caressing the bruised skin next to it softly, when she noticed Solas' eyes wetting with unshed tears She pulled her hand away, afraid she was hurting him.

“Did I hurt you?”

Solas shook his head, reaching to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close until he could bury his face under her chest. Lavellan noted his shoulders shaking as if he were crying, and she wrapped an arm around him, holding him tight to her, while her hand reached to caress his head.

“Vhenan…” She whispered, trying to comfort him, but she supposed that, after everything that had happened, crying was not a bad thing and a welcomed release. It still hurt her to see Solas like that.

“I am sorry.” Solas' sob was muffled against her shirt.

Lavellan knew he was, but she also knew that, even if it might be enough for her, it wouldn’t be so for everyone. She also knew he shouldn’t be the only one to be sorry. She was sure Solas’d fix what he’d wronged, he was set on it, starting now with the blight and the Titans driven mad, and she was sure too that she’d be there by his side to help him.

“You’ll make it better,” she tried to reassure him. “And I’ll help you, if you let me.”

“Thank you.” His voice was almost inaudible, muffled as he held her tighter to him.

Lavellan said nothing else and Solas held to her for a moment longer, but eventually he pulled back so he could look at her, but keeping his arms around her. 

His eyes were wet but he was smiling softly at her, the sight making Lavellan realize she’d do pretty much anything to see him smile like that everyday, and he was looking at her in that way that’d always made her heart flutter, like she was precious to him.

Solas leaned up to kiss her lips and Lavellan kissed him back, moving even closer to him, but when she placed a hand on his side, pulling him to her, he grunted again.

Lavellan pulled back. She’d seen him strangled, choked, and thrown around by the vines and the archdemon as the Dread Wolf, enough to make her fear she’d found him just to lose him again, this time forever. He must be hurt and she wanted to check how bad.

She began to unbuckle the straps of his armor and Solas let her, helping her with the stubborn ones that, until she could remove his armor, leaving him in his undershirt, and she lifted that too so she could check for injuries.

There was a big bruise on his side along with some smaller bruising and more cuts across his body, but all in all, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been after such a fight, even though the big bruise worried her.

“Vhenan, I am okay,” Solas told her as her concerned eyes roamed over his injuries.

“If you said so…” Lavellan sighed. There wasn’t much she could do anyway. 

She wondered if she could make the Fade be kind enough to provide them with a bathtub and hot water, somehow, so she could just get Solas inside until his wounds and cuts were cleaned properly and his muscles had relaxed. 

That could wait, though, right then, Solas looked exhausted and he needed to rest, but when she told him so, he shook his head, pulling away.

“The blight, I-”

Lavellan stopped whatever he was going to say with a finger to his lips. Solas blinked at her at that, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a small smirk, and he moved his head to kiss her hand.

“We'll work on that but not now. You said you linked the veil strength to your own and right now it’s looking like a light breeze coming from that window could knock you both out,” she told him, and Solas let out a weak snort but gave her a nod. “I’m tired too so let’s get some sleep.”

Solas nodded again, and he reached to untie the cloth wrapped around her waist as a belt, taking it off her. Then, he helped her remove the rest of her clothes until she was wearing only her undershirt.

Lavellan lied down on the bed, getting comfortable on the pillow and reaching out a hand for Solas as he beckoned him close. Solas took her hand but didn’t move close. Instead, he just looked at her in that way again, like she was precious, while a soft smile illuminated his face, and Lavellan felt as if her heart were squeezing and also growing in size at the same time.

It didn’t matter what someone else might think, she knew Solas loved her, and she loved him too, deeply, fiercely, as she’d always done.

Solas moved to hover over her, leaning down to kiss her lips again, before lying down with her, his head pillowed on her chest. Lavellan reached to pull the quilt over them and then she wrapped her arm protectively around him, holding him to her with a content sigh, while Solas snuggled even closer.

Lavellan knew there was much to do, much to research, fix, and fight, and there was much Solas and her had to talk about, but all that could wait, even for a moment. For now, all she wanted to was to lie there, Solas in her arms, basking in the feeling. The world could wait just a little bit longer.

*

I needed to give them fluff.

If you liked it, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

I also have some other Solavellan fics linked in my tumblr if you want to check them, Inquisition based.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

[treviso-nights]

what the fuck color are solas's eyes? i'm trying to write another fanfic but i can't keep calling them gray-violet lmao

[xhollowfaerie]

Dread of the Wolf

(Note: a little exploration into Rook's mind after picking to save Treviso as a Shadow Dragon. As always, you can find my Rookanis (Spookanis?) fanfic on ao3! Warnings: endgame spoilers, slight body horror, angst)

- “Ir abelas” Solas spoke gravely as he approached Rook.

Kore had been quiet since Minrathous, once she had stopped sobbing. Too quiet.

Her face was tight with dry tears. Her makeup was a smeared mess, eyes swollen. Passed out in the infirmary, she found herself in the Fade, watching the same memories replay over and over, like a broken record.

Her face lit up, for the very first time.

“Is that a smile?” Viper teased, and her sunken eye widened for a moment. A faint wave of color crept over the drained features of her face. “... smile” she repeated, voice as monotone as ever.

“That's right. It suits you. I hope I’ll get to see it again.”

“Show Viper? Smile. I'll try” she croaked.

“No, no, it's not an order. Not something you do consciously. You smiled just now because I called that templar a bumbling idiot.” “I'm right here, you know” Tarquin called from outside the room.

Kore’s chapped lips curled again. She didn't understand. She didn't do it on purpose. Her face twisted in confusion before relaxing. It was strange. But… it wasn't bad. 

“I like this” she voiced. Viper's eyes softened.

“Good. I like it, too.”

“I don't like this, Ash!” Rook cried as she buried her face in her knees. She didn't know eyes could sting in the Fade. 

“He is alive” Solas tried to console her.

“Blighted!” She screamed at him, her eyes lighting up as the air around her sparked with electricity. 

“MY fault. My fault… they're right! It’s all… my…!”

As indifferent and calculating as the Dread Wolf strived to be towards his pawn, his gaze lowered as she wailed. It hurt to listen to.

It destroyed him to know the truth.

The Blight…

It wasn’t her fault. It was his. 

Her agony was his responsibility. Not only was she Elven, but she had been a slave. And now, she was his only hope.

He had long since given up on ever getting close to someone again. 

Not after her .

He couldn't consider Rook a friend. And although her delusion about her past was not directly his doing, it was still his burden.

He had broken her before they ever even met. By putting up the Veil. By letting mortal whims taint his resolve.

That was exactly why he had to use her. To create a better world, for her , for Rook, and for every other elf who had ever drawn breath. No matter what it takes.

She grasped the dirt, scraped it with her nails. Her voice was growing hoarse from strain, her tears pooling underneath her tangled hair, dripping off the tip of her nose. Some of the salt got inhaled back in through her nostrils, stinging. Her breaths hitched, worse and worse, before she clutched her chest. 

“I killed him.”

The dread built up, coursing through her veins like poison. She was freezing. Somewhere in the depths of her memory, she recalled. Elven corpses, laying still and cold.

“I killed him. I-I killed Ash” she choked, grasping her head in horror.

“Neve will never forgive me. NEVER! She hates me! She hates me so much . She’s right! It should’ve been me instead. I should’ve been blighted instead. I doomed Minrathous. I killed so many. Tarquin’s right! I blight everything. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me! ”

Rook’s words were slurred, hectic. Her stomach was turning itself inside out, spilling searing acid into her throat. But nothing could compare to Ashur’s agony. 

“I’ll get them all killed. Every last one. Every single one. All of them. Dead! I killed them. I killed them, my friends, my everything! I killed them all .” Kore frantically whispered their names, as if to not forget them. As if they were already dead. When she mentioned Varric, Solas clenched his teeth, remaining still and silent.

“Kill me, please, kill me instead. I’ll give anything. Trade my… freedom? For them… Yes, take it. For them. Anything, anything for them. Please… NO! NO, I KILLED THEM! I PROMISED I’D KEEP THEM SAFE! LUCANIS! Lucanis, no, no, no, please, please, PLEASE! Please, not Lucanis, not Spite. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Anything, but not Lucanis, not Spite… ” Her panic began to melt into despondent lament. Her cries lowered and broke into a rhythmic ballad of sobs. She planted her head into the dirt, painfully kneading her fingers into her hair, desperately tugging it from her skull. Her body rocked in place, subconsciously aching for any shred of solace.

“ No, no, no, no, no, My Crow, not My Crow… I never told you… I should have told you… Spite, Lucanis… Ma vhenan… Ar lath ma, Vhenan… ”

Solas whipped his head away. He couldn’t watch. Those words burnt a hole right through his chest.

He couldn’t help her. What could he possibly say? What were his options? He thought to reason with her through Varric’s guise, but her state was so deplorable, he felt much too guilty to further intrude her mind.

A soft hand landed on the Wolf’s shoulder. He almost fell apart himself at the familiar touch.

‘You could talk to her.’

Elven words ghosted over his lips, too, but remained just that. A ghost.

Kore collapsed into a pit of serpents; they latched onto her, pumping her with venom, coiling tightly around her limbs. She wanted to scream, but she could no longer breathe. She couldn’t see. She just tasted her own bile, mucus and tears. Felt the fangs dig into her skin. Hearing hazy. Ears ringing. Scarred fingers tried reaching out to the sickly shaded sky, green eye trembling. It was too late. They completely enveloped her, choking her out, filling her lungs.

They were eating her alive.

Just like in Minrathous.

She had gathered a crowd of predators, swarming above them. 

Hungry. 

She was so open. So inviting. So vulnerable.

Her mind was held together by a thread - no, a black feather that was being ripped to pieces.

She started humming, out of tune, gurgling and nearly suffocating every few words. The demons grew in number and stalked closer.

Many, Solas recognized. Hurt. Shame. 

He thought it best to not intervene. He didn’t want to risk facing his own worst demon. The one that had been hunting him so eagerly, for so long.

Regret.

“Hahren, na melana sahlin,

Emma… ir abelas…

Souver'inan isala haaaamin,

Vhenan hiiim dor'felas…

In uthenera… na… revas…”

(Elder, your time has come,

Now… I am filled with sorrow…

Weary eyes need resting,

Heart has become grey and slow…

In waking sleep… is… freedom…)

The Elven eulogy.

He remembered the first time he had heard any Elven roll off of… her tongue. The warmth it had sent through him. 

The poem filled him with nothing but sorrow.

Rook was an important piece on his board. Her life was still useful to him.

He could hear her laugh at him. Lovingly.

‘You don’t always need to justify everything, you know.’

Ever since entering the prison, her voice had followed him.

One of the demons launched at Rook, drooling.

“ Varas! ” (Leave!)

The Dread Wolf knelt down next to her, shielding her body as his eyes began to glow. A brief flash followed before specks of dust floated around them peacefully.

“They are gone” he tried to tell her, but she was humming still.

“Ma ghilana mir din'an… ma ghilana… mir din'an…” (Guide me into death, guide me… into death...)

With a huff, Solas pulled her out of the pit, knocking away any lingering snakes off her body.

“Da’len. Listen to me. You are stronger than this pain. You have defied all odds. Risen above every expectation. You have inspired many, and saved even more, at the risk of that which you held dear. Had I been given the choice of who to aid me in sealing away the tyrants and freeing the Elven people, I couldn’t have been more sure that it had to be you.”

She laid limp in his arms, lolling her head to the side as she continued mumbling incoherently, and he clicked his tongue in frustration.

“Being a leader means accepting sacrifice! It means doing whatever you must , whatever the cost!”

‘Solas. Gentle.’

Yes. Of course.

Abelas .

“Being… a true leader means… having those who believe in you. Having something to protect… And…” His eyes dimmed.

“It means keeping them close. Relying on them. It is a privilege not many have the fortune of knowing.”

Solas’s hands trembled as he held the frail mage. His voice continued echoing through the emptiness of the Fade around them.

“You did well. Better than anyone could have, in your position. It was a difficult choice. Yet you persevere. Your companions are proud of you. As am I.”

Rook’s eyes slowly peered up at him.

“...Varric?”

His eyes widened in horror. He didn’t dare to speak.

But someone else did.

“You got this, kid. Now, go on, they’re worried sick about you. You can make things right, with Neve, with the Dragons. You’re not someone they can hate so easily.”

She had missed that hearty chuckle.

“I… I know… you’re right… I… I miss them terribly… I'm so sorry…”

“They miss you too, Rook. So show them. They all wanna help. And they know you do, too. Go kick some Ancient Elven ass for me, will ya?”

Solas helped Rook up wordlessly. When he glanced at her again, she had taken the form of a scrawny Elven child, beaming up at them.

“Okay! I’ll go do that! Thank you, Mister Varric!” 

The dwarf ruffled her hair and watched her run off. 

The Dread Wolf. What a fitting name. He would forever feel alone. Starving.

Varric nudged him, and little Rook turned around to wave towards both of them.

“Thank you, too, Mister Solas! You look scary, but you’re so nice!”

A swarm of fog floated over to Kore, taking the shape of the Viper. He placed his hat on her head and propped her up on his shoulder.

Little Rook giggled happily. 

Solas’s long, thin fingers clenched behind his back. 

He deserved this punishment. He should be able to take it.

“Lighten up, Chuckles. Look on the bright side! She doesn’t even know I’m dead yet.”