#solas is a cocky asshole who makes everything better

[mythalsknickers]

For the DADWC: "things you said when you were scared," with the pairing of your choice!

Here is a bit of Sollavellan for you, I had this in the works, and it was going to start out cute but then took a dive for the angst.

CC: @dadrunkwriting

Skyhold, an abandoned fortress, if it were not for the unwashed masses of the Inquisition. It was the first time in days they would sleep soundly and peacefully.  Slowly, the door from her quarters was pushed open. Sliding past it Fen’aslan eased out into the shambled halls, broken timbers, and crumbled masonry. Despite the light chainmail and leather tunic she wore, her steps were almost soundless.

One thing weighed heavily on her mind. It was something only Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana had been let in on. Looking up at the balcony she felt her eyes water, she had made Dorian swear to never reveal what they saw to the others.  

The red future is what they called it. Her eyes stung as tears slipped down staining her cheeks.  It had been more than that; there had been no future.

Her steps fumbled along disturbing the silence, kicking chunks of masonry, and bits of timbers. Fen’aslan barely caught the glow being emitted from the cracks under the door.  At that moment, her breath caught,  she was back there.

There where the world burned and lyrium sang darkly to her.  Demons bursting forth, all that kept her and Dorian safe had been a barrier, one of Solas’.  Panic had frozen her when the doors were thrown open.

Sorrow overwhelmed her and she sank down on a pile of rubble. It was the nightmare that kept her awake at night, Solas dying and she could do nothing but watch. A sob tore at her throat like angry claws. She was trying to be quiet. All she wanted was to sneak away and paint, try to get to where she could get everything out.

“Lethallan?”  She barely looked up, when had the door to the rotunda opened.  Fen’aslan could barely make out his surprise, the way his brows drew together, his lips pulled into a frown. She tried to find words to explain, to put her mask back into place.

Tears still fell, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. It hurt too much, and the icy hands of despair sank in deep. Her tears fell onto the rubble.  His steps were quiet as he made his way up to her. Her brows knitted, he was alive, splatted in splashes of color clinging to a dusky mud. What had he been doing?

“Lethallan, come with me please?” His hand reached out for her’s and there was a hint of a smile like he was planning something. She was unguarded, there was no chance of her even wanting to say no. Taking his hand, she carefully stood up. “Why are you up and about so late?”

She canted her head at his question worrying her lip for a moment.

“I couldn’t sleep, I was going to paint some of the columns in the garden.” she offered, her voice barely above a whisper, scratching at her throat from her crying. They were walking toward the Rotunda, and he let go of her hand giving a hint of a smirk.

“Just a moment Lethallan, I need to grab some items, then we can go somewhere more exciting.” he left her at the doorway while he dived back behind the door. Just as quickly as he had disappeared, he was back at her side with a bucket that had a thick cloth over it. Her brow knitted as he offered his hand to her.

“Would you like to learn a different medium?” She blinked at the offer, a different medium for painting. She licked her lips and gave a bit of a nod.

“I could use something to occupy my mind lethallin.” she gave a slight smile, not forced just timid. They left the main hall, they were going up to her quarters, that were too large. Solas dropped her hand seeming to look around.

“How long have you been having trouble sleeping?” she glanced at him as he touched the walls almost like he was greeting an old friend. Sighing she put her bag on the couch.

“Since Redcliffe.” she offered quietly pulling out a thin book full of blank vellum. “Well, the second time, when we captured Alexius.” She carried the book over to her nightstand setting it down.

“That is quite the time Fen’aslan.” he offered. His eyes weren’t judgemental, just concerned.

“Now this will require that indomitable focus of yours.” he teased, and she giggled, shaking her head.

“Tonight we will lay the first layer. It doesn’t have to be perfect, the idea is to lay it down, leave it coarse for the next layer.” She raised her eyebrow as he uncovered the bucket and it was a wet almost ashen looking mud.

“What exactly are you teaching me Solas?” she was curious; strolling over to him, balanced carefully on her toes, almost dancing… Standing behind him, his chuckle was warm, it melted the pit of ice that had slowly formed in her since Redcliffe.

“The medium is called Fresco, the style I am going to teach you,” he paused, smiling at her for just a moment. “dates to just before Arlathan’s fall.” pulling out a trowel he offered it to her. She stepped up in front of him, taking it.  She listened to him as he told her more about it. His hand wrapped around hers;  they were rough, but gentle and warm, his hands always seemed warmer than hers.

Each sweep of the trowel, a little more plaster over the wall. Eventually, it was gone, she and Solas were inside the chantry. She followed him, curious where this was going, how they were in the chantry in Haven.

“I watched over you while you slept, studying the mark. I ran every test, searched the fade.” he bowed his head for a moment before continuing. “Cassandra suspected I was assisting you in hiding the origin of the mark and threatened to have me executed if I did not produce her desired results.” There was just the barest hint of a smirk, he seemed more open.

“That is just how Cassandra tells you she cares.” she offered with a light-hearted smile. Solas gave a warm chuckle and nodded as they left the chantry.

“Yes, you were never going to wake. You were fading by the minute. A mortal sent physically through the Fade, it was too much on you.” He spun around as they stopped at the stairs. “As much as I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra, and she didn’t have faith in me. I was ready to flee.” She stepped towards him curiously.

“Where would you have gone, the breach threatened the world?” There was no place that was safe for long.  He gave a nod his eyes focused intently on her.

“Someplace far away, where I could research in peace before the effects reached me.” There it was, a smirk that weakened her knees, how was he so sure of himself?   “I never said it was a good plan.” This was a side she had never seen before

“I told myself one last attempt. No ordinary magic would affect them.” he sighed, holding his hand to the breach. “I resigned myself to flee, and then…” everything around her changed and she could see Solas pressing her marked hand to the rift. “It seems you hold the key to healing the veil. You had sealed it with a gesture…”He paused licking his lips. “I felt the whole world change.” She took a step closer resting a hand on her hip.

“Felt the whole world change?” she tilted her head, copper curls falling into her opaline eyes as he smiled, cocking his head towards her.

“A figure of speech.” he offered. There was no way to describe the warmth in his eyes, they sent a jolt of desire through her, kindling her own passions something she hoped he was feeling.

“I am aware, I am more interested in felt.” she offered as she closed the distance, they weren’t touching but she wanted to… she wanted to kiss him.

“You change…everything.” his voice had gotten rougher, full of emotion.  It was impulsive but she quickly stepped forward, turning his head to steal a kiss.

The dread wolf could take her.

Life was too short to not risk this one thing. As she pulled back he followed her pulling her forward, she straddled his thigh as he kissed her, instead of her quick kiss, this was heated, he leaned her back pressing his leg up; she moaned silently into the kiss. As they parted, she held onto him, smiling as he shook his head leaning down to give her another kiss. It was quick and heated.

“We shouldn’t.” he slowly pulled away from her reluctantly out of breath. “It isn’t right, not even here.” his smile was cocky a bit smug, wait what did he know. Her heart racing Fen’aslan looked around…

“What do you mean “not even here”?” she asked him raising a brow as he smiled with a little head shake.

“Where’d you think we were?” he asked and just then the barest shimmer in the fade, something was shifting, or maybe she was shifting it.

“This isn’t real.” She could see it now the pieces of memories making up the dream around them, and the careful snowflakes that danced between them.

“That is a matter of debate…” he paused with a mischevious grin shrugging his shoulders. “Probably best discussed after you wake up.” Those eyes had teased her.

With no ability to react she jolted upright in her bed flushed her chainmail clinging to her, but next to her bed the drying first layer of plaster….

“Oh dread wolf just take me already.” she groaned. On her nightstand, her sketchbook was open to a small wolf huddled up against the statue of a large wolf. It was not one of her sketches. There was a small note at the corner.

Fen’aslan, I can not fathom what you saw in the alternate timeline,  Arasha, know you do not have to bare all of this alone.

Solas

Smiling she rubbed her eyes biting her lip looking over at the plaster before laying back down.  He wanted a discussion… she hummed to herself.