#solas fluff

[veiledvvitch]

Our Lady of Radiance

Summary: A small story from my Solavellan writings taking place before the battle of the Arbor Wilds, 9:42 Dragon. The calm before the storm.

Pairing(s): Solas x femme elf Inquisitor Lavellan (My canon OC Orianna Edea Lavellan). Cullen x Unrequited Lavellan.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, some slightly poetic insinuations to smut.

As the Inquisition prepared its siege on Corypheus's forces in the wilds surrounding the ancient temple of Mythal, Inquisitor Orianna Lavellan and her companions had stayed in a local village near its outskirts.

As the sun went down, they prepared for thr battle the coming morning. A great feast had been prepared, but Orianna could not eat knowing that so many of her men would be lost.

She maintained a smile in their presence, not wishing to inspire upon them the doom she felt herself. She had made so many friends, human, dwarfen - even Qunari. Her world had grown so much bigger and now here was a battle to fight for it all.

She locked eyes with Cullen across the tavern, full of tenderness and fear. She could read upon his lips, the chant of light. He was praying for her safety.

On the second floor, Solas leant over the railing, watching her with an unreadable look on his face. Lost in thoughts, she was not sure he even knew she had noticed him.

"A night that might be our last" Dorian mused, having helped himself generously to the wine. "Who might you spend it with? I wonder."

Orianna chuckled, "Stop worrying about me and turn around instead" she gestured, "I see the way Ironbull has been looking at you, have''nt you?"

"-Nonsense." Dorian shook his head and swallowed the remaining wine all at once, "A fine 'Vint and a savage Qunari. Now that is something for the bards to sing about."

Cullen made his way across the tavern at last, and Orianna excused herself with a sigh.

"Inquisitor" he greeted her, and Orianna looked up to see that Solas had left his positioning. "Commander, anything to report?"

There was a pause, "I... yes. There is a matter i'd like to discuss with you, well... in private."

Orianna's eyes distractedly wandered the tavern for Solas's whereabouts, he was no longer anywhere to be seen.

"Sorry. Could you repeat that to me Commander?"

Cullen swallowed nervously, "With the battle ahead of us, I could not let it remain unsaid that I..."

Orianna felt a wave of sadness wash upon her, it was all weighing to much. She was frightened, truth to be told she did not know if she truly stood a chance to defeat Corypheus.

"I care for you Orianna. More than care, in fact." Cullen finally admitted, gazing down at her expetantly.

A single tear fell down her cheek, burning hot. "Cullen..", she whispered.

"My devotion to you, goes far beyond my commanding of your army. It is resolute love, it will stand no matter what."

Orianna's breath hitched as he came nearer, his lips inches of her.

She wanted to press herself forward, but backed away instead into a table.

"Forgive me, Inquisitor. I've.. transgressed." Cullen pulled himself back, but before she could answer, Solas had appeared by his side with an austare visage.

"Commander, if I could have a word with the Inquisitor." He requested politely, and Cullen puzzedly withdrew to leave them be. The bards song filled the tavern, Ironbull laughed at something brawingly.

Before she could say anything, Solas had taken her hand leading her up the stairs after him.

"We were... just talking." Orianna explained, "-And more if the Knight Commander were to have his way." Solas replied snarkily. His hand still gently around hers untill they found themselves in his chamber.

"You're actually jealous?" Orianna finaly braved herself to ask, and Solas turned to her smugly. "Of course I am jealous."

"-To stand in your presence before such a fateful battle. Emmasalin var suledin evanura."

"Ma melava haleni. We would not have made it this far otherwise."

Something glimmered in his eyes, "Vhenan. Vir Insalin."

"I hope so. I can't afford to loose, not now."

Solas smiled, "I believe in you. You are so radiant, you inspire us all."

His lips found hers, and fueled with passion sat her down on his bed.

She fell back, but he did not join her. His head lowered, locked beneath her in awe and in worship.

"-Solas" his name left her lips breathlessly, he could barely keep his hands, or his lips of her, but never let her return the favour.

Whenever she got too dangerously close to convince him otherwise - he would pull away, or otherwise distract her differently.

The sounds of drunken shanty' sung from the tavern downstairs drowned out her cries as she quivered and fell defeated in his bed. He lingered, looking up at her with twinkling clever eyes.

"Mythal enaste." Orianna whispered, "if you keep this up, then."

"-If we survive the coming battle, i'll show you the true extent of my devotion, Vhenan."

Her heart skipped a beat, "I want you Solas, why wait? Why not-"

His lips shut her up, "As much as I'd relish the idea.. we should get some rest. By dawn your army will march and you will need to guide them"

Orianna laid down upon his bed defiantly, "Fine. But i'm not leaving your chambers. I can't sleep without you."

Solas joined her, once again with an unreadable ennui upon his face as he gazed upon her before reaching for - and placing a kiss upon her anchored hand.

"I'll keep the nightmares away."

[pinacoladamatata]

The Dread Wolf's Heart...

"Where I am going is terrible"

"It won't be terrible if you're with me"

[amburuthings]

– Vir shiral malasa, bellanaris.

[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]

[eunsuri]

The Lighthouse

Pairing: Solas x Lavellan

Summary: Lavellan explores The Lighthouse and reunites with her heart.

Word Count: 6,608

Warnings: ANGST. Lots of emotions. Lots of love. VEILGUARD SPOILERS.

A/N: Hi everyone! Happy 2 weeks until Veilguard! This has taken me way longer to write than I'd hoped, but I MADE IT! This was inspired by a beautiful piece of art by @pani-artz, I couldn't resist! I've kept Lavellan's description vague for those who would like to keep their own Lavellan in mind while reading! Also posted on AO3!

“We’re here.”

A cold breeze swept through the crossroads, cooling Lavellan’s skin as she stepped up the stairs, Harding, and Leliana flanking her from behind. The three stood before the Eluvian, the shimmering surface glowing faintly. The ancient mirror reflected the crumbled pieces of the ruins floating within the crossroads, flickering with ancient magic and ready to draw them into another world.

Anticipation stirred in Lavellan’s stomach, her senses heightened and glaring at her warped reflection. The faint glow of the mirror’s surface cast a strange light across the stone floor through the overgrown foliage around its frame, and the chill in the air seemed to seep into her bones. 

Harding and Leliana exchanged glances behind her, but she hardly noticed, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest like a wild creature trying to escape its cage. Harding had seen this Lighthouse before, She knew what lay behind the Eluvian, all the memories hidden in Solas’ base of operations.

Lavellan knew Solas wouldn’t be waiting for her on the other side. Instead, what awaited was everything he had left behind—his memories, his isolation, the echoes of a life spent in the shadows. The thought of stepping into his world, of facing the remnants of his past and the pieces he had chosen to keep hidden, sent a wave of dread through her. She wasn’t sure she was ready for what she might see—for how deeply his loneliness would be etched into every corner of this place

He had stopped appearing in her dreams, no matter how hard she searched the endless distance where he once stood, always watching over her from afar. Even when she reached out, he’d slip away like a shadow, yet his presence had brought her comfort. Night after night, she would speak to him—tell him how much she missed him, how she longed to change his heart. The wolf never answered, but the sorrow in his eyes cut deeper each time, and her desperation to find him only grew over the years.

Now, her dreams were empty, filled with nothing but the ache of waiting for a love that never came. Sleepless nights blurred together as she wondered if he had forgotten her, or if something terrible had happened to him. When Harding had brought news that Solas was alive but trapped in the Fade, it brought a measure of relief, yet doubt still gnawed at her. Would she find any sign that he remembered her in this place, or had she been lost to him as well?

Harding broke the silence, her voice gentle but laced with tension. “It’s… a lot to take in, but I thought you might want to see it.” She paused, then added, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Lavellan’s breath caught in her throat, a fresh wave of anxiety washing over her. Ready? She didn’t think she ever could be. How could anyone prepare to see the deepest, most private parts of someone they loved, but had lost so long ago? 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She needed to do this, no matter how much it hurt. She needed to understand him in a way she hadn’t before, to see his world, his pain, and his purpose. Where he had been all this time, if he remembered her. Even if he wasn’t there to explain it himself.

Lavellan took a shaky, deep breath and stepped toward the mirror, the surface rippling as she neared. With a final glance back at Harding and Leliana, she stepped through and the two followed.

Emerging on the other side, her breath caught in her chest. The three stepped into a realm bathed in a warm, golden glow, as if suspended in the sky. Floating islands hovered in the distance, each dotted with autumn-hued trees as if kissed by sunlight, gently swaying in an unseen breeze. Ancient elven ruins, crumbled yet graceful, drifted among them, suspended in the air like forgotten dreams.

Before them stood a weathered statue of Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf, positioned in the heart of the courtyard. It was a figure of a protector—his posture calm, watching over the space with an almost serene presence. Cracks ran through the stone, softened by patches of moss that had claimed him over time, as though nature itself had embraced him. The statue seemed ancient, yet resilient, a symbol of an age long past, guarding the Lighthouse like a silent sentinel.

Beyond the statue, the Lighthouse rose, stretching impossibly high into the sky, its top crowned by a bright magical light encased in a spinning golden roof. The beacon pulsed with an ethereal glow, guiding not only the lost but also wandering spirits seeking refuge. The golden accents that decorated the Lighthouse shimmered in the sunlight, long streams of green fabric dancing in the wind.

Lavellan marvelled at the beauty and serenity of the place as she continued towards the entrance of the Lighthouse, carefully stepping down the broken staircase. The large door opened as the three approached, allowing them to enter the towering building.

Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced at the faded murals stretching along the pathway, their muted colours leading into the centre of the Lighthouse. Each one told a story—Solas’ time in Arlathan, his stories of rebellion, and the ancient history of the elves, including the tale of the Evanuris' downfall.The images on the walls, the stories painted into the stone, all reflected the weight of millennia. 

Murals she had seen variations of before caught her eye, depicting Fen’Harel freeing slaves and removing their Vallaslin, as he had once done for her. Another told the story of the Evanuris’ rise to power and their tyrannical ways, with Fen’Harel’s outstretched arms attempting to show them they were not truly gods.

The Dalish legends she had grown up with had taught her to fear the Dread Wolf, to tread lightly lest the trickster god hear her footsteps. But now, knowing him as she did—not as the villain in their stories, but as the man who had fought to free his people, the man she loved—her heart was torn. The fear remained, lingering like an old scar, but it was now tangled with love, understanding, and sorrow for what he had become.

Lavellan wandered through the Lighthouse, her steps slow as she absorbed the surroundings. Relics of a world long lost lay scattered around, each one steeped in both history and longing. The air felt thick with memories—some sorrowful, others sacred—echoes of a time far beyond reach.

She found herself in a large room that appeared to be underwater, giant framed glass windows as a barrier between the water, with many schools of fish swimming through the depths. A lone green leather sofa was situated in the middle of the room, stuffed bookshelves lined the walls, and an array of candles scattered across the floor creating a cosy warmth that drew her in. 

It was then that a soft flicker of candlelight against brilliant colours drew her gaze to a mural, its glow pulling at her like a distant memory. A set of candles was arranged on either side of the mural, almost as though it were a shrine. As she made her way towards the artwork, her heart sank deep into her stomach, a heavy weight settling in her chest.

The painting depicted a woman—one hand raised high, a radiant burst of green light pouring from her palm, the other clutching a sword close to her chest. Below the hilt, the familiar mark of the Inquisition gleamed. It was her.

The weight of this realisation struck her in an instant, chest tightening with disbelief, an ache settling deep as sorrow wrapped itself around her heart. Her likeness, immortalised in these ancient halls, was a reminder of what she once stood for, of the time they shared and the distance between them now. 

Her fingers traced along the lines of the mural, imagining the strokes Solas had made, his hand dragging the brush across the stone with care. Every detail, every line, told her this was more than a mere addition to his collection of stories. This was crafted with love. He had painted her not just to remember her, but to hold onto her presence, as though each stroke was a vow to never let her fade from his memory.

Tears pooled along her eyelashes. She didn’t know whether to feel honoured, heartbroken, or both. Every detail of the mural seemed to call out to her, each brushstroke a whisper of what had been, what was lost. Slowly, Lavellan’s gaze fell to a small wooden box resting beneath the mural, its presence unassuming, as though it had always been waiting for her.

Hands trembling, she reached for the box, dragging her fingertips along the warmed wood, and gently lifted the lid. Inside, nestled among the old wood, lay Solas' jawbone necklace. The one he had always worn. Lavellan paused, inspecting the familiar necklace before  reaching to lift it from the box. The sensation of the cold bone and thick rope looped around it was almost foreign, yet the weight of its meaning was still heavy.

As the jawbone rested in her palm, memories surged through her mind—fragments of what they once had. She recalled how she’d often tug him closer by the necklace, his lips moving against hers, fervent and desperate, as though her touch were the very air he breathed. She remembered idly tracing the rigid texture of the necklace as she lay against his chest, listening to the gentle rise and fall of his breath as he shared quiet stories of the Fade. Each moment felt as tangible as the cool bone now in her grasp.

She could no longer hold it with the same warmth she once had, but the connection to him, to their shared past, lingered still. The weight of the jawbone in her hand felt like a lifeline to the man she had been hunting for all these years. Desperate to keep that feeling close, she gently lifted the necklace over her head, letting the familiar curve of bone rest against her chest. It settled there, and for a brief moment, she felt as though she had him with her again.

Lavellan clutched the bone in her hand while blinking away the lingering tears which threatened to fall at any moment. As she moved forward, every step felt heavier, unable to shake the palpable sense of solitude that hung in the air. This place, with all its beauty, was not just a refuge for spirits. It was a place of mourning—a sanctuary for Solas’ lost hopes, where his memories whispered through every crack in the stone, and his loneliness lingered like a shadow.

Further in, a large dining table sat in the centre of the room. The long wooden surface stretched out before her, grand and ancient, yet only a single place setting lay at its head—a lone plate, a single cup, and neatly arranged cutlery beside them. An ache squeezed in her chest at the sight. This table, large enough for a gathering, bore only the quiet signs of one man’s solitary meals. Solas had sat here alone, day after day, surrounded by memories and ghosts of his old ambitions. 

She couldn’t bear the thought of him there, sitting quietly, the vast emptiness echoing through the room as he contemplated the burden of his mission. He had been so steadfast, so determined, yet the loneliness had seeped into every corner of his existence. How many nights had he sat here in silence, the weight of his choices pressing down on him, thinking that this was the only choice he had.

The simple setting was a stark reminder of everything he had left behind for his mission—companionship, love, the simple joys of shared moments. The pain choked at Lavellan's throat and the tears she had fought streamed down her skin as she took in the sight. She rested a hand on the back of the chair, picturing him there, staring into the distance across the table, as he grappled with the weight of millennia. He had shut everyone out, even those who would have fought beside him, and in doing so, had consigned himself to this eternal isolation.

Lavellan stood still by the table, the weight of her thoughts pushing down on her shoulders like a storm cloud on the verge of breaking. Her sadness gave way to a simmering anger that twisted deep in her chest. How could he have left her—left them—like this?  If only Solas had confided in her—trusted her with his truths. If only he had let her share the burden that had twisted his path into something unrecognisable. Things could have been different; they could have faced this together. She could have stood by his side, helped him bear the weight of his cause, find a better way, and maybe, just maybe, spared them both the pain of this isolation.

The thoughts of what could have been pierced through her, sharp and unyielding. How different would their lives have been if he hadn’t pushed her away, if he hadn’t shrouded himself in secrecy and left her to chase shadows for years? Heavy and unrelenting regret settled into her bones. They could have shared this—this fight, this journey. She had loved him enough to stay, to fight for him, but he had locked her out, too consumed by his purpose, too afraid to burden her with the truth. 

Her fingers curled into her palms, hands clenched at her sides, frustration clawing its way up her body as she thought of the pain he had caused—his actions had left Varric wounded, with the false gods free to wreak their havoc upon the world. He had condemned himself to isolation, convinced he was sparing her the pain when, in truth, he had only deepened the wound.

Maybe he had been too proud, too wrapped in his conviction that he had to bear this weight alone. He hadn’t let her love him the way she could have. If only. If only things had been different. If only he had trusted her.

Lavellan’s thoughts were then interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor. She wiped at her eyes hastily, straightening her posture as Leliana appeared at the doorway.

“They’ve returned,” Leliana spoke softly. “Rook and the others are back.”

Lavellan turned, her heart still heavy from the weight of her reflections. Without a word, she nodded, following Leliana out of the room and towards the group that had gathered in the main hall.

There was more to it now—she’d learned that Rook had formed a connection with Solas. A tether, almost, caused by the disrupted ritual. She had to know if there was a way, some hidden thread she could pull to reach him herself, to bridge the distance between them once more. 

A spark of determination tingled through her skin. If Rook had found a way to connect, perhaps she could too.

Later that same evening, with the sharp sting of her discoveries still fresh in her chest, Lavellan found herself standing in the Fade. 

Rook had spoken of how they had become connected to Solas through the ritual gone wrong, their fates intertwined, and Lavellan had seized upon that fragile link. It was all she needed—a thread, however thin, to follow him.

With Varric’s warning in her ears and Solas’ necklace warm against her skin, she stepped forward, stumbling through the dark and desolate landscape of the Fade. The twisted remnants of broken elven statues loomed around her, their cracked surfaces glinting dully in the ethereal light, like forgotten memories trapped in stone. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt magic, a bitter tang that clung to her tongue, tainted by a ritual gone horribly wrong. 

As she moved, the ground crumbled beneath her feet, each step sending a shiver through her body as she navigated the uneven terrain. She could feel Solas’ presence—distant, yet unmistakable—like a flickering flame in the depths of her mind, pulling her forward despite the air of despair that settled around her like a shroud. Echoes of lost voices whispered through the stillness, their lamentations brushing against her ears, urging her to keep searching in this forsaken place.

She had worked so hard to find him over the past ten years, constantly reaching for him in her dreams only for him to slip away like a fading memory. Her relief at hearing he was alive warred with the anger gnawing at her heart. He had stopped appearing in her dreams, and for so long she had feared the worst—afraid he had been consumed by his mission, or worse, by his pride. Yet here he was, trapped in the Fade, perhaps lost in his own way.

The thought of him being trapped, cut off from everything, pulled at her heart. Just as she had found him again, he was suffering. But that grief mixed with a simmering anger. He had hurt Varric, who had only been trying to stop him from making a terrible mistake.

Her steps quickened, the greyed path through the Fade twisting and bending as though it were alive. She remembered Varric’s words—how he had tried to stop Solas, how Solas, in his struggle tugging at the lyrium dagger, had let it go too far. The thought stung, reopening the old wounds that had never fully healed. He had hurt someone they both cared about. Had it been an accident, or had his obsession with his plan blinded him to everything else?

It was then she saw him. Solas stood at the edge of the platform, his presence powerful and untouchable like a distant star. His eyes caught hers with a knowing look, as though he had been expecting her all along. 

His strong stance wavered ever so slightly, a near imperceptible shift. Somehow, he was even more beautiful than she remembered. He was draped in dark leather armour that hugged his frame, his broad shoulders embellished with gold which decorated his chest as well. His face remained sharp and regal, though it now carried a colder edge. The weight of his millennia-old burden clung to him, as heavy as the Fade around them.

The sight of him sent a rush of warmth through her, but it was quickly swallowed by the bitter pang of nostalgia and regret, memories crashing over her like an ice cold wave. Lavellan’s voice faltered, the carefully rehearsed words slipping from her grasp, lost under the crushing gravity of his presence. For countless nights, she had imagined this moment—each conversation, every plea, practised over and over. But now, as he stood before her, all those thoughts scattered like dust, leaving her speechless.

“Solas.”

Her voice trembled with the only thing she could utter, a raw mix of anger and longing breaking free. Lavellan felt the years between them collapse. The sorrow, the love, the pain, and the anger—it all surged forward, overwhelming her in an instant.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Solas’ expression remained guarded, though the tension in his jaw and the weariness in his eyes betrayed him. His lips parted, as though he might speak, but the words died unspoken on his tongue. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken history.

Lavellan’s heart raced as she struggled to steady her breath, emotions crashing over her: love, anger, and grief all vying for control. She wanted to scream at him for the pain he'd caused—to her friends, to her. She wanted to demand answers, to weep for his loneliness, for how lost he had become. But she also longed to run into his arms, to hold him so tightly he could never leave again, to feel the warmth of his lips, to taste the love they once shared.

Across the distance, Solas silently soaked in the sight before him. Amidst the boundless darkness of his prison, his heart stood before him once more. A dull ache crawled from his chest into his throat as he noticed how time had touched her. Soft lines had etched themselves across her skin—subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone but him. She looked exhausted, as though the years had been heavy, yet her beauty had not faded. Her eyes still held the same fire, the same brightness that had captivated him. 

His gaze fell to her arm, the gleam of metal catching his eye—her prosthetic. The sight of it twisted his heart into a deep, bitter knot of guilt. She had lost her arm because of choices he had made. Though removing it would save her from an untimely end, her connection to the Anchor would have consumed her had the arm remained. However, that knowledge offered little comfort. 

It was because of him. she had been marked in the first place, that she had been forced to bear that burden, to lose part of herself for a cause that had never truly been hers to fight. He carefully swallowed the pain in his throat in an attempt to mask the surge of sorrow that threatened to break through.

For a heartbeat, the distance between them seemed insurmountable and never ending. Yet the connection they had forged so long ago, deep and unshakable, remained—like a tether drawing them together even now. 

Solas shifted subtly, searching the depths of his mind for words that could bridge the chasm of time and pain between them. No words could repair the damage that had been done, not a single syllable could undo the devastation he had caused.

“Vhenan…” he whispered at last, his voice rough, heavy with all the things left unsaid. It was the only word he could manage, the only truth left to him, spoken as though it held within it all his love and regret. The word hung in the air like a fragile promise.

The harsh and unforgiving hand of grief gripped Lavellan’s heart at the sound of his endearment. It had been so long since she had heard the word leave his lips, and yet it was the same—soft, full of meaning. She placed one foot in front of the other, taking a tentative step forward, her fingers brushing against the jawbone necklace, grounding her in the reality of the moment. The memory of their love flooded her, the fluttering which overwhelmed her belly when he would call her his heart, mingling with the anger that still smouldered in her chest.

“What have you done, Solas?” Her voice cracked through her cutting words, the accusation spilling through her lips before she could bite her tongue. “You stopped coming to me. You were…tearing the Veil apart, and then Varric—” She swallowed hard, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “You didn’t stop. You hurt him, and now… the false gods are free and ready to destroy this world.”

Her words were sharp, biting, but beneath the anger was the raw, unspoken truth: she loved him. She always had. And seeing her proud, cunning love like this—trapped in the cage of his own creation—cut deeper than any wound she had ever known.

Solas’ eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his head bowing beneath the shameful weight of her words. When his eyes found her again, there was a subtle flicker in his gaze—something raw and aching, a depth of emotion she couldn’t quite define. Regret, perhaps, or something far more tangled and broken. 

“It was not supposed to happen this way,” he murmured, voice thin and weary, as if even the admission pained him, the words almost too heavy to continue. “I had a plan. The ritual, I was moving them to another prison. But Varric interfered, he disrupted a dangerous ritual. I did not intend for him to get hurt.”

The flame in Lavellan’s eyes blazed with fury, her voice trembling as the words tumbled out without a second thought. "Varric was our friend, Solas. You’ve gone too far. He wasn’t aware of your intentions. He tried to stop you, tried to make you see reason, and you—" She faltered, the pain caught in her throat reducing her voice to a weak whisper. 

Though Varric still lived, his fate was uncertain, the magic from the lyrium-infused dagger weaving through his veins unpredictably. Her dear friend had only wanted to help—and yet, he had paid the painful price for it. 

The hardened resolve in Solas’ eyes wavered, his brow furrowing with the slightest shake of his head. “I’m sorry,” he uttered, the words quiet, but laden with everything left unspoken. 

“That’s all you have to offer? After everything that’s happened? After all this time?” Lavellan’s words sliced through the air, her voice was low yet biting. Her fingers curled in, hands tense at her sides as her frustration simmered just beneath the surface. 

She was torn between the depth of her love and the hot flame of her anger. She had missed him so achingly—every day without him was a quiet torment—but now, seeing him like this, the one she’d loved so fiercely, all she could feel was the cold sting of his absence, the ache of betrayal. He had left her, and worse, he had hurt Varric in his reckless pursuit. 

And now, after everything he had done, he stood there with regret etched into his sharp features, yet offering nothing more than a simple apology. She could see the remorse in his eyes, he meant it, but it wasn’t enough—not after everything. She longed to reach out to him, to close the distance between them, but the wound was too fresh, too raw. How could she bridge the gap when all he had to offer were those meagre words?

“Nothing can change what I have already done,” Solas sighed, the sound long and weary, as though carrying the burden of centuries. 

“I know,” she replied, her voice trembling with the heaviness of her admission. “You can’t undo what’s been done… but you can still do better. You can still choose differently.”

Solas studied her, his expression unreadable for a moment, though the gravity of her words seemed to hang between them. "Better choices do not erase what has already been set in motion," he spoke quietly, his tone almost resigned, as though he carried the inevitability of his fate like a burden.

“So what, you'll just let the world fall apart because it's already in motion? You think destroying this world will somehow lead to salvation?” Lavellan began, her voice cold and cutting. Her eyes locked onto his, unflinching as she took a hard step forward. “The elven people you’re trying to save? There’ll be nothing left for them if you don’t help us stop this madness now.” 

Her words hit him like a sudden gust, rattling the walls he had built around himself. For a moment, his defences collapsed under the truth of her words. But then, almost instinctively, he pulled them back up, his expression hardening as his gaze held hers.

”'Did you come only to scold me, Vhenan? Or is there more you wish to say?”

Lavellan’s breath quickened at his response, the fire in her eyes dimming for just a moment as his question hung in the air. The silence between the two stretched, filled with all the things that had never been said, all the pain, all the longing in their time apart. She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, struggling to speak past the heaviness of her own heart. 

"There is plenty I wish to say. But in truth, I came because—" She managed to murmur, the words catching in her throat. Her feet moved before her mind could stop them, stepping slowly towards Solas. "Because I was worried about you. Because I wanted to see you." Her voice was raw, as if speaking the truth aloud burned at her tongue. "Because…even after everything I—"

Solas’ head tilted ever so slightly, his expression softening as his furrowed brows relaxed, and for a fleeting second, something in him seemed to break. The unspoken bond between them, ever-present and undeniable, pulled at him once more. He reached out, almost as if drawn by the force of her words, but stopped himself just short.

He wanted nothing more than to hold her close to him and never let her go again. To let every thought spill from his lips and confess his love for her as if it were the first time. The warmth of her presence was only growing closer as she stepped further in his direction, her beautifully intoxicating scent stirring memories of their past together. He craved her fiercely—the softness of her lips, the feel of her smooth skin beneath his fingertips, her lovely voice whispering words of love that echoed in his heart.

But the shrinking space between them felt like a chasm born not only of time, but of all the hurt and chaos he had left in his wake. He didn’t deserve her. Not after his failure. Not after what he had done.  He couldn't bear to drag her into the darkness of his journey, a path that he believed would only lead to death. She deserved so much more than the ruins of his mistakes. 

He imagined the weight of his choices suffocating her, dimming the light that had always drawn him in. Yet as she drew nearer, he could feel the pull of her more acutely, as though the Fade itself conspired to draw them together. The ache of her absence, the torment of his own regret—none of it could dampen the magnetic force that still lingered between them.

"You should hate me," he spoke quietly, his voice barely more than a breath. "After everything I’ve done. All of the pain I have caused."

Lavellan had closed the never-ending distance between them, the air around them thick with an intensity that took her breath away. Her already racing heart quickened, emboldened by a sudden rush, a defiance against the pain that had lingered for far too long. With a trembling hand, she reached for him, her fingertips brushing against his cheek. The connection was electric, sending shivers through her, reigniting a fire that warmed her very core.

In that moment, all his carefully constructed walls began to crumble, melting away beneath her touch. She could see the tension in his shoulders ease, the weight of his regrets momentarily lifting. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, a fragile intimacy that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

It had been years since they last stood face-to-face, their encounters reduced to her lone whispers in her dreams. Each night, she yearned for the warmth of his presence, the comfort of his touch, imagining the feel of his skin against hers, the sound of his voice calling her name. The ache of separation had clawed at her heart, and she knew he had felt it too—a longing that transcended the boundaries of their worlds. 

"I tried," she confessed, her voice heavy with emotion, barely above a whisper. "I tried to hate you, but I can’t, Vhenan. I could never."

Solas’ resolve crumbled even further, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes undeniable. “I never wanted you to see what I’ve become. I do not deserve your forgiveness,” he pushed further in a weak attempt to suppress the overpowering love that threatened to consume him. 

“I know you cannot change what you have done,” She began through her breath, gently placing her prosthetic hand against his armoured chest and meeting his eyes directly, as though reaching into the depths of his heart. “But I see you, Solas. I see the burden you carry, I’ve seen what you hide in your Lighthouse. It hasn’t changed the way I feel about you.”

Her touch unravelled him completely, cutting through the barriers he had so meticulously built to keep her at a distance and protect her. For all the power that pulsed within him, he was utterly powerless before her. His breath was hitched in his throat, his senses overwhelmed and intoxicated by her nearness. All words escaped him, and instead, he clutched her prosthetic hand to his chest, his knuckles brushing the delicate skin of her cheek, drinking in the moment as if it were the last.

The space between the two vanished, the long-forgotten warmth of each other’s touch easing the ache of a lifetime apart. Starved of the love they had once shared, the air around them grew heavy with anticipation. The energy between them hummed, drawing them closer with each breath, until their eyes flitted shut, surrendering to the inevitable pull of their connection.

“Vhenan…” Solas found his voice once more, before the thread which held him together finally snapped and his lips found hers.

The kiss, at first tentative, quickly deepened as the years of distance, longing, and unspoken words melted between them. It wasn’t gentle; it was desperate, filled with the ache of years apart, with the pain of betrayal and the hope of forgiveness. Lavellan’s hands instinctively reached for him, fingers curling against the cool, textured surface of his armour as if he might slip away again, as if this moment might vanish like a fleeting dream. His hand cradled the back of her head, pulling her closer still, like a drowning man grasping for air.

Solas trembled against her, the control he had so precisely maintained for years finally unravelling in her embrace. Every heartbeat, every breath shared in their kiss spoke of the time they had lost and the memories they had clung to in the dark. 

He clutched at her waist, tugging her impossibly close, as though she might disappear if he allowed any distance open between them. The taste of her lips—familiar and sweet—sent a rush of emotion surging through his mouth and into his heart, blooming with love. It was a taste he had dreamed of, mixed with grief, regret, and the bittersweet recognition of all the time they could never reclaim.

For Lavellan, kissing him felt like breaking the surface after endless years submerged in sorrow. She had imagined this reunion, longed for it in her loneliest moments, but nothing could have prepared her for the rawness of it now, the intensity of feeling his warmth, his breath, after so long. Her lips moved fervently against his, as if she could anchor them both in the present, as if this kiss could hold them together while the world threatened to crumble around them.

Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into eternity as their spirits reached for one another, desperate to bridge the chasm of all that had been lost. The air around them shimmered with the intensity of their emotions, the soft crackle of magic lingering like static electricity. Tears mingled between their lips, and Lavellan found herself unsure if they were born from her own heartache or Solas’ sorrow. 

When at last they reluctantly parted, it was only enough to breathe, their foreheads pressed together and breaths mingling in the narrow space between them. The warmth of Solas’ skin contrasted with the coolness of the Fade around them. His fingers brushed her cheek, wiping away a tear, his eyes searching hers with a mix of reverence and sorrow, as if committing her face to memory all over again.

“I have missed you,” Solas admitted through a trembling breath, his voice fraying at the edges, each syllable thick with longing and vulnerability. “Every moment, I have missed you.”

Lavellan’s heart stilled at his confession, the pain she’d carried for so long softening, giving way to a quiet joy she had scarcely dared to feel. It was real—his yearning, his regret. He had missed her, and in hearing those words, a wave of warmth rushed through her, filling the hollow space his absence had left behind, like sunlight breaking through a dark, heavy cloud.

“As have I,” she whispered, her voice a breath, an ache. “I love you, Solas.”

The distance between them vanished once more as she closed the space with her lips. An electric tangle of desperation and love crackled in the air, as if they could pour every stolen moment of the past ten years into this one kiss. She breathed the words against his lips— Ar lath ma. I love you, I love you, over and over, with each fleeting pause for air. One hand gripped his broad shoulder as though holding onto the thread of the life they might still have together, while the other skimmed gingerly across his sharp jaw, the cool metal of her fingertips shooting a shiver down his spine.

As their lips moved together, she tasted the faint remnants of the Fade on him—like the bittersweet tang of twilight and the warmth of embers long extinguished. The air was thick with unspoken promises, Solas’ scent enveloping her, an earthy blend of ancient forests, fragrant herbs, and a whisper of magic that felt both familiar and achingly distant. Her heart raced, a wild drum echoing in her ears, as she felt the world around them fade into insignificance. In that moment, nothing else mattered—just the two of them, entwined in a dance of love and longing, the taste of their shared past lingering sweetly on their tongues.

Solas drew a tight breath, his lips forming the words in return, “Ar lath ma, I love you,” each confession fragile and tender, as if speaking it aloud made the moment more real. His hands cupped her face with reverence, fingers tracing the contours of her skin as if rediscovering her all over again, as though he needed to believe this wasn’t some fading dream. She was truly here with him, loving him still, despite all that had come between them. And with each kiss, each murmured promise of love, he felt the final crumbling of the walls he had built to protect himself from this—this undeniable truth that she saw him, truly, as he was: Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. And still, she chose him—Solas.

Warm, fresh tears streamed down his cheeks—tears of relief, not of sorrow, and for the first time in an age, he felt lighter, the burden of millennia softening in her embrace. 

Lavellan’s fingers traced the familiar lines of his face, feeling the tension in his jaw slowly release. She caught her breath, pressing her forehead gently to his once more, letting the moment wrap around them like a fragile cocoon, holding them together.

They no longer needed words. There was no need for promises, no talk of what came next.

For now, they were simply here—together.

Solas’ hands held her tightly against him, as if memorising every curve of her, grounding himself in her presence, in the warmth of her body pressed to his. He drank in every bit of her, enraptured by the way her eyes sparkled with the tears she had shed. There was no one more beautiful, in body and spirit.

The world beyond them faded into the abyss—no ancient gods, no torn Veil, no crumbling ruins. Just the rhythmic sound of their breaths mingling between them, the quiet beat of their hearts within their chests, steady and sure. For so long, he had dreamed of this, and yet the reality of it was more than he could have ever imagined.

Lavellan clutched him closer, as if to say all the things she couldn’t form with her lips, as if to tell him that here, in this moment, she chose him—not Fen’Harel, not the Dread Wolf. Just Solas.

And as they stayed there, lost in each other, neither knew how long the moment would last—only that, for now, it was enough.

[bishicat]

we all know Solas definitely sketches Lavellan, but what if she could draw too?

[an-established-butt-dent]

One of my many Solavellan head cannons.

They traveled together for months, years even. Don't tell me these lovesick fools didn't regularly disappear into the woods together, to have a quiet romantic moment away from the prying eyes of the other companions.

Mixed media on paper.

[virginiathegray]

Wisdom Wept, and Hope Replied

*major spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard* a quick fic on what I imagine the moments immediately following the Solavellan ending in Veilguard might have looked like since I couldn't stop thinking about it...hope u enjoy <3 solas x f!lavellan | 834 words | oneshot also on AO3 here ~~~

The fade tear closed behind them.

For a moment, they both just stared forward, taking in the blighted black city before them, the prison for gods that would now become their…home? A place born from regrets that, as they watched, shifted into a new shape. A black spire melting into something resembling a waterfall, elven statues growing broad, regal horns.

Crestwood.

That first eternal beat passed from the present as understanding dawned. Solas’s stiff shoulders curved, then crumbled, then collapsed with him as he fell to his knees.

She followed him down. As she always had, as she forever would.

“I am here,” she said.

“You are.” His head hung low, tucked into his chest. Blackened droplets of blood from still-open wounds caressed his lips as they fell. He did not speak another word, did not move a single muscle. Not for ages.

Her prosthetic hadn’t followed her into the fade. Only the shadow of a lost hand remained, a glowing green figment of raw magic where the anchor once tethered itself to her spirit. But this shadowy remnant could touch and feel like the real thing, a truth learned only when she brushed it over his cheek, wiping away the blood to reveal the cut beneath. Hissing a breath between her teeth, she wondered briefly if the fade had something as mundane as stitches and gauze.

Would he even let her tend his wounds? Something in the familiar rush of water, the whispering of leaves from a moment ten years past, resurfaced old hurts. Was she ever the fool, nipping the Dread Wolf's heels as he ran from her?

There wasn’t much time to ponder it. One moment, she looked at his split lips, and the next they were on her, frenzied and wanting and warm against her mouth.

Over the years, she'd had plenty of time to analyze those few kisses she shared with the trickster god. The first, quick and sweet and impulsive on her part, indulging in the magic of the fade and the easy smile of the man who walked so confidently through it. The second, only moments later, drawn back as she turned away to hide her embarrassment. Then the third, the caress of his arms as they curled around her. Perhaps she should have known the truth of him then, in that kiss. Nothing in all her life had ever felt quite so divine. God-like.

And so many more, combed over in detail long after that final goodbye eight years ago. But this was not any of those kisses. No, this was desperation. Hunger. The great wolf, wounded and starving, descending upon his harvest.

She was no limping halla separated from her herd, however. This was her bounty, too, and when the initial surprise passed, she swelled into the kiss, into him, submitting herself to that sense of return, of home, that lay within his arms.

But then he winced, and her passion cooled.

“Vhenan,” she said against his mouth, starting to pull away.

“No,” he growled back and kissed her again.

“Solas.”

He made one last valiant effort, a peck at the corner of her mouth that lingered in its intimacy, but he obeyed the unspoken command in her voice and pulled away. Only by a breath.

“I am more the fool and coward than I ever dared admit, and for those follies I will pay eternal,” he said, staring at her lips, at the blood smeared there from his kiss. “Tomorrow there is work to do, to make this place a home for you, or to cut a tear so that you might escape it.”

He wiped the blood from her face, brow furrowed. Not for the first time, she wished she could read the thoughts behind those troubled eyes. Would he try to send her away, as he always had? Had her vow to him truly meant so little? Did he still believe her misled, her love tarnished by his own lies, even now as she stood by his side at the edge of the world?

Mercifully, he spoke, quieting her fears.

“But that is tomorrow, and eternity waits. In this moment I am selfishness incarnate. Your gift is one I don't deserve, your spirit meant for gentler things, but I claim it if you will have me, Vhenan.”

Her hand found his cheek, and he nuzzled his face into her palm.

“Please,” he whispered. “Have me.”

At last. A request in that pleading voice, not to leave him behind but to draw him close. Perhaps he thought it selfish, but she was selfish, too, and oh, how she’d missed him.

Around them, something like sunlight peeked through blighted clouds. Flowers bloomed at their feet. Something beautiful was being born here, but neither dared look from the other's eyes.

“Dread Wolf take you,” her clan used to say. Perhaps he had. But in this moment, with a dip of her chin and a meeting of swollen lips, she took the Dread Wolf, too.

[stargirl273]

Remus: *reading his book in the library*

Remus: *Hears soft classical music in the distance*

Regulus: *Reading a table next to him, having his earphones on full volume*

Remus: James, do you hear that to?

James: Oh, the classical music? That is reggie. He loves that kind of music

Remus: *Walks up to Regulus* What song is that?

Regulus: Oh, just Solas from Jamie Duffie. Don't think you know it.

Remus: *stares at him* That's my favorite classical song.

Regulus and Remus: *Dark academy fangirls squealing*

Sirius: *just walked in to the library* Is that my brother? And my boyfriend? Bonding?

[vir-bellanaris]

Snowfall at Skyhold (memory) snowball fight

Peace lay within the walls of Skyhold. A carpet of thick white snow steadily rose without, thick white flakes falling silent from the sky.

Lavellan lay warm within the embrace of Solas’ arms as he read to her, his cadence low, lilting over the words, transforming them to spoken song.

She shifted, pulling the covers over her bare legs, entwined with his. Her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks as she yawned wide, cozy as a cat.

The arm Solas had around her waist squeezed gently in response to the squeaking sound she made, his heart soft and full of tender love for the woman relaxing against him. Her thick hair tumbling across his chest, her curves lush and pressed intimate against his own body.

He continued reading aloud, a ritual of sorts they had whenever peace settled upon them. The book was one of the texts he had long carried with him, written in the elven language. Lavellan was fascinated by the rhythmic language of her lost ancestors, intent on having him teach her as much as he could. This open, inquisitive nature one of the many virtues within her soul he had grown to cherish.

After thoroughly dozing off, lulled by the steady thrum of Solas’ voice, Lavellan roused herself with a deep inhalation. She turned her face against his chest and pressed her lips over where his heart beat. “It is far too comfortable in here for our own good.”

Solas hummed in satisfaction, placing the tome aside and gathering her fully in his arms as she shifted, her body sliding against him in ways that made him shiver despite the heat. He looked with deepest affection upon her face, his long fingers taking her under the chin and tilting her face up so he could see her eyes reflecting the firelight. “We have earned this respite. The forces of red templars have been dwindled thanks in large part to your efforts.” As ever, he laid the credit at her feet. Solas kissed her forehead, lingering to inhale the scent of her hair. “Not to mention there is no possibility of travel in this sort of weather.”

“Hmm…I suppose you have a point.” She replied, with a happy sigh. “How very unfortunate for us.”

“Unfortunate indeed.” Solas murmured.

She felt him smile against her skin, her lips turning upwards in their turn. She slid her leg down his, shifting her body over his and pressing him down against the soft mattress.

Their lips met softly at first, then he deepened the kiss as he was wont to do in moments such as these. Crystalline fragments he gathered like lingering snowflakes in his hand, selfishly desperate for as much of her as the heavens would give.

Read the rest here:

To Where Your Soul Travels, There Go I - Chapter 3 - MysticAwareness - Dragon Age: Inquisition [Archive of Our Own]

[an-established-butt-dent]

'Dreamers' A quiet evening

Solas x Lavellan, available as print here.

Mixed media on paper

[fenharel-babe]

Meow

@emmg Here’s chapter 1 (though you’ve read the first half). And……..I’ll be brave and add @thessaralka too since I love both of y’all’s content and comments lol.

Chapter 1: The Incident

Solas gets some interesting news about the Inquisitor….and everyone has to find a way to fix it.

.

He honestly didn’t know how to deal with it. When he heard whispers of the news, he was shocked and saw it as a joke rumor that Sera spread.

But hers usually were physical pranks, not this.

Bloom was supposed to arrive at Skyhold that morning. Solas, like he always did, waited in the rotunda for her. She always came there when she arrived, no matter how tired she was. She loved getting a quick hug from him before she did whatever other business she needed to do. She’d also maybe sneak a kiss or two before she would leave. But that morning, she didn’t arrive as herself. She arrived as…

A cat.

A. Cat.

At first, he didn’t know it was her. He waited and waited that morning, but she never came to greet him, and he even heard the people whisper and say, “The inquisitor is back!” He assumed that maybe she had urgent matters to attend to, not even having time to stop by and see him. He understood that, and wouldn’t blame her. Even if a small part of him was sad he didn’t see her.

That is, until Cassandra came marching into the rotunda. He stood up quickly, expecting some kind of emergency, but instead saw her coming towards him with a small cat. The cat was white with orange and black spots around her face and on her body, and had a tail that was black. The eyes were bright blue, which was not usually found in cats.

Cassandra walked up to him and gently placed the cat on his table. She sighed and ran a hand across her forehead. “So, we have an issue.”

The cat immediately walked over to Solas, carefully avoiding his books, and sat on the edge of the desk. It stood up and reached its paws towards him. It meowed at him, and kept meowing and reaching for him.

He sat back down with an unease look on his face. “What’s the issue involving a cat?” At the mention of its presence, it reached out again for him, meowing. He gently pet the top of its head, smiling when it leaned into his hand, arching its back when he trailed his hand down.

“The cat is the inquisitor,” Cassandra said blankly.

He froze and looked up at her with wide eyes. “The cat is what?” He looked at the cat and pulled his hand back immediately. The cat meowed multiple times again, as if she’s trying to explain, but she gives up and makes a growling sound.

Cassandra sighed. “There were some mages that attacked us, and they cast a spell and it must’ve gone wrong.” She looked down at the cat—who she claims is Bloom—and gently taps her paw. “She seems to be conscious and not completely a cat, but…she’s stuck looking like this.” Her face and tone was completely serious, but she was worried. As a cat, Bloom had more chances of being hurt or even carried away by someone.

“Bloom?” Solas asked. The cat looked over immediately and meowed. He thought of how to prove it was her, and not a random cat. “Show me where my sketchbook is,” he ordered. Only Bloom knew where it was, and a regular cat couldn’t just find it by chance. The cat immediately jumped down and went over to the paint cans in the corner of the room. They were covered by a big cloth, but she squeezed her way under it, and he could hear some scratching on the floor. Only a few moments later did the book come sliding across the floor, with her following soon after.

“I have never seen a spell like this before,” Solas said. He picked up the sketchbook, quietly laughing when Bloom ran over to him and pawed at his arm. Guessing what she wanted, he picked her up and carried her back to the desk, setting her on top. “I’m assuming some sort of transformation spell went wrong.” He sighed and looked above to the library. “I’ll have to do some research to fix this issue. I’m not certain about how long it will take.”

Cassandra nodded and glanced at Bloom. “Well, what do we do about her? She can’t just walk around Skyhold like a normal cat. She could get injured, or even taken away.”

“Have someone watching her at all times, then,” Solas suggested. He went to speak again, but the door opened again. It opened quick and loud, causing Bloom to yowl and moved to be beside Cassandra.

“Where is our lovely inquisitor? I have heard some…interesting news,” Dorian said with a barely contained smile. He gasped when he heard Bloom let out a high noise, and he went still as he saw her jump down from the desk. She ran over to Dorian and pawed at his leg, meowing very loudly. “I thought Sera was pulling my leg,” he said as he picked her up gently. She meowed at him even more before he laughed and gently poked her noise. “Dear, remember I cannot understand you. Talking like this is a waste of time.” She growled slightly before she went quiet again.

“Do you have a guess of how long this will take? I already know Josephine is panicking about all the things she has to put on hold,” Cassandra said with a little snort.

Solas looked away as he thought. “It can probably take a few days?” He guessed. He looked at Dorian. “I will need assistance to fix this as quickly as possible.” He ignored the small feeling of jealousy at seeing Bloom relaxing in Dorian’s arms.

“Aww, we can’t just keep her this tiny for awhile?” Dorian cooed. He rolled his eyes when Bloom growled again. “Fine, fine, we’ll fix this as soon as possible. Let’s go to the library and see what we have. I bet Vivienne is already on the case,” he said with a little chuckle. He walked over to Solas and held her out, almost dropping her into Solas’s arms.

“Be careful!” Cassandra scolded the two.

“Cats always land on their feet, she would’ve been fine if she fell. Besides, dear Solas would never let her fall.” He gestured towards the stairs that led to the library. “Now, shall we?”

.

A Few Hours Later

.

Dorian had heard of this magic before, but only in passing. Almost everyone has heard of transformation magic, but not necessarily casting the spell on someone else. He had never seen what happened if it failed, and, well, he got an answer.

The answer was Bloom, the Inquisitor, curled up in a little ball as a cat sitting on his favorite chair in his little corner of the library, purring as she slept peacefully. Dorian was just climbing back up the stairs to the library after dinner and he found her there, not in her specific chair that was right in front of his!

He sighed from the top stair and considered what to do. Wake up poor, innocent Bloom who rarely ever slept even in her regular elven form? Or let his chair get covered in cat hairs and sit in her smaller chair and most definitely hurt his back?

She shifted in her sleep and put her paws over her eyes.

Her chair it is then.

He took only a few steps forward, mind you quiet steps, before Bloom’s ears twitched and her head popped up a moment later. He sighed. “I tried not to wake you, Petal, but your pointed ears are even stronger than your normal pointed ones,” he joked as he gently scratched her head. She meowed and lean into his hand, making his heart just swell up from cuteness.

She stood up and stretched before she jumped from his chair to hers. She sat and meowed at Dorian, seeming to smile, if that’s possible for cats.

He smiles in return and places a hand on his chest. “Aww, you’re so cute. Sometimes I forget you’re you.” He sighs again and heads to his regular bookshelf. He goes back to the task of looking for books mentioning even a hint of transformation information, which is quite a few. He takes out five to start and sets them next to his chair. “I would prefer our regular banter, but I know that cannot happen, so I must find a solution.” He looks back at her and goes quiet when he sees her curled up in a ball again, fast asleep. He snorts with amusement and whispers, “Don’t worry your little head. We’ll all figure this out.”

.

Later that Night

.

Solas sat at his usual desk in the rotunda, surrounded by different books. He was looking through different paragraphs and pages, and when he didn’t find what he needed, he put the book on the ground by the desk. It wasn’t unusual for him to be surrounded by books, but what was unusual was that Solas had a little cat in his lap. He was never too fond of letting animals in the rotunda because he didn’t want them to get hurt from his supplies or mess up his study.

But he gave in when Bloom came hopping down the library steps and sat by his desk, looking up at him with those blue eyes of hers. She looked even cuter as a cat, which he considered cheating in some way.

Bloom messed with the string of his jawbone necklace and meowed. Loudly. She had been doing so every few minutes, which made him concerned. “Are you all right, Vhenan?” He looked down from his book and gently pat her head, and trailed his touch down her body to test for any reaction, but found none. She jumped down and ran over to the couch in the rotunda, sitting down and meowing again. She seemed to try and pat the couch and this time meowed lowly at him, like she was mad. He was confused for a second until he remembered what usually made her mad at him. It was when he worked too hard or was up late in the night, whether studying or painting.

He sighed and looked back at the book, searching for information to fix this spell. “I’m sorry, Vhenan, but I have to keep looking. There must be a fix to this spell so we can get you back to normal.” She ran back over to him and bit his leggings, and tried to pull him out of the chair, though failing miserably. He didn’t give her another response, since his answer was going to be the same, and she did not like that. She jumped up on to the desk and sat right in front of him, right in the middle of his book. She sniffed his nose and gave him a small lick, and meowed innocently.

He sighed and went to pick her up, but she swatted at his hand (with claws out) and growled. He had a feeling that this was a losing battle and he didn’t want to stress her out when she’s already stuck in a cat body and is stressed. He would give in. Just this once. He stood up with defeat and smiled as he pet her head. “Fine, I’ll rest for tonight.” He picks her up and holds her against him as he marks his page on the book and heads to the couch. He sits her down first and then lays down, and wraps the small blanket around himself before he relaxes.

He falls asleep that night to the soothing purrs of Bloom as she kneads the couch and then curls up next to him.

.

The Next Day

.

Solas wakes to noise of something scratching against the floor, and quiet giggles. He opens his eyes slowly, groaning as his eyes adjust to the brightness. Once they do, he groans for a different reason. Sera is standing in the corner of the rotunda, holding a piece of glass and is aiming the sunlight that touches it onto the ground. She moves it around fast, failing to stifle her giggles when Bloom chases the light, trying to catch it. Then suddenly the door swings open and Vivienne steps in with a book in her arms.

She glances at Sera, at the glass in her hand, and then at Bloom. She sighs and shakes her head, choosing to not even address what’s going on. “I have come to deliver some good news.” She heads to the desk and places it down, it opened up to a certain page. “I have not found an exact solution to getting you out of this,” her rave twists with a little disgust, “form, but I found a spell that can help you for right now. It will give you the ability to speak.”

Sera giggles. “So she’ll be a talking cat? For real? Like in the crazy books or drunken stories?”

“Yes, just like that. It’ll help with Josephine’s stress and you’ll be able to attend meetings.”

Bloom jumps up onto the desk and nods with a meow. Though she wishes to get out of this form, being able to talk is a good step up. She’s tired of only meowing and having no one understand her.

Vivienne looks at Solas and claps. “Come on, let’s get up. I want to work on this as soon as possible."

Solas gets up with a yawn and then smiles when he feels something tugging on his sweater. Bloom’s leaned up on her hind legs, her front paws on his chest. He chuckles and pets her head, and scratches under her chin. “Come on. Let’s get this done.” He wouldn’t say it aloud with others there, but he did miss the sound of her voice.

Vivienne, Solas, and Bloom head to the undercroft, Bloom laying in Solas’s arms and only jumping onto the nearby table when he puts her down. Vivienne has a few bottles already on the table, and Bloom resists the urge to knock them over. She feels more like a cat than yesterday.

Vivienne grabs a vial and mixes some of the other potions into it, adding a few leaves of some herbs as well. She mixes it all up and pours it into a small bowl. She places it in front of Bloom and gestures. "Please, drink for me, Inquisitor." Bloom sniffs the liquid and recoils at the nasty smell. She looks up at Vivienne with a sort of "do I really have to drink this?" look, which makes her nod.

She growls and leans down again and drinks until the bowl is empty, which takes awhile given how she can only drink with her tongue. Once it's empty, she gags a little. "Maker, that was awful!" Her eyes widen and she gasps. "Oh, I can talk again!"

"It seems this spell has worked to at least give her her voice back, but not her body," Solas says.

Vivienne messes with her clothes and sighs with annoyance. "Yes, I have not found a spell yet to give her her form back."

Bloom twirls in a circle and giggles. "But I have my voice back! That's a good start, yes?"

Solas smiles and pets her head. "Yes, it is. But we must continue our research, and I'm sure you should attend a few meetings, yes?" He picks her up gently and scratches under her chin to ease her annoyance. He knows how dislikes long meetings, but they are a necessity.

She sighs. "Fiiine, take me to see Josephine."

They bid Vivienne a good day and Solas brings Bloom to Josephine's office. Josephine looks up when they enter and smiles wide, unable to stop it. "Good morning, Inquisitor."

"Good morning, Josephine."

She gasps. "You can speak now?" She smiles for a different reason now. "Oh! This will makes things much easier!" She stands up and grabs her clipboard and quill. "Are you able to speak with the council for a bit? We'll address only the important ones since I'm sure this form is," she looks at her with sympathy, "tiring, yes?"

Bloom sighs and her ears tilt down. "Very tiring, Josie."

.

.

[sincerelya-stories]

Then There Was You

It was gray. It was sad. It was all his regrets...she deserved more than that

Rating: G

Word Count: 351

AO3

[mosoderbergh]

Rotating Solas in my brain

Solas grinds my gears so bad. But I also feel like his entire plotline would immediately unravel if you could just force him to chill for five fucking minutes. Because Yes, his plan is horrible. It was a plan formed purely out of self-pity and prejudice. But think about the fucking timeline here. I am going insane.

This man breaks his own heart by leaving Lavellan, then throws himself into getting the ritual set up. The culmination of all he has worked for. What he sees as his redemption. He gets interrupted, kills his old friend because he is trying to stop the one thing that will *make it all right again*, then gets a statue thrown on his fucking head and glimpses into the faces of the Gods he banished. And then, *fwup*, gets pulled into a prison made out of his own deepest regrets. He spends his days in constant psychological torture, except when he is pulled out of his own living nightmare to talk to some guy. The same guy who threw a statue on his head and disrupted his ritual. AND THEN THAT GUY GETS SNARKY WITH HIM. Sir. I would also become slightly unhinged.

I am not excusing Solas’ actions in the least,  I’m just saying I can’t take you seriously if you interpret them as anything other than the world’s most chewed-up man constantly grasping at straws. No wonder all of his decisions in Veilguard are fucking bananas.

“You’re just trying to excuse bad writing” Look idgaf if they did or didn’t consider this in the writer’s room. The author is dead. Solas makes sense to me because I see a man who is squirming in his skin 24/7. Have you ever had to deal with heartbreak and low blood sugar at the same time? What if at that time, you possessed the power to doom the entire world? I wouldn’t bet that we’d all still be here if I had, is all I’m saying.

My point is: The fade prison is a brilliant way to keep you from just handing Solas a hot chocolate and a laced brownie. Because I think that might have just solved the entire fucking problem.

[luzial]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age) Characters: Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Treviso's Spirit Cat Additional Tags: Treviso (Dragon Age), Angst, Romance, Dreams, The Platonic Ideal of Cat

Summary:

He slips into a cafe to pass the time. It is an alluring place on the water where lilac lanterns spill light on lovers and assassins alike. In the distance, something bright catches his eye. Two felines, perched side by side on the base of a pillar that overlooks the canals. One of them is such a vivid white he swears it’s glowing in the afternoon sun.

By day, Solas investigates an irregularity in the Veil in the Streets of Coin and encounters a spirit cat. By night, Lavellan dreams of Treviso.

[eeriemothz]

I've made a deal with myself to let Bull and Solas interact a lot in any Solas fics I write (which won't be too long or plot heavy until I'm happy with how I write Solas) bc I think their dynamic is really fun. I need them to give each other shit and by the maker I'll be the one who makes it happen.