#solas x f!lavellan

[shattered-eluvian]

life could be a dream

Babies first solavellan mini fic thingy... I am very new to writing as a whole so I cannot attest to the quality ;w; but I think I at least have Solas' voice down pretty ok? I hope??

I am very very shy sharing my writing 😂 but I wish to be brave...

____

Evie Lavellan/Solas || set after the balcony scene because it always seemed so abrupt and sombre and then the next romance scene is Halamshiral where he's relaxed in the relationship and having a grand ol' time, and I felt there had to be some manner of heart to heart/getting over some hang ups for them in between to get there!

it's free real estate, baybee.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

His words carried a melancholic timbre as he turned to leave. Striding his way past through the balcony threshold and headed towards the stairs of Evie's quarters. This wasn't the first time he appeared to be unnerved by his feelings, with any glimpse of emotional vulnerability quickly buried under a mask of distant stoicism, and any glimmer of happiness chased away as quickly as it arrived. To Evie it was as frustrating as it was heart-breaking; he always seemed to carry the weight of far too much for any one man.

“Solas, wait.”

He paused at the top of the stairway, finding himself unable - or unwilling - to turn to face her. The gnawing dread of inevitability then began to creep through him. He knows this won't end well, and he will only have himself to blame when it happens. 

It was a losing game any way he played it, but he just can't seem to stop himself.

He was a man caught between living in a dream - to be seen, and loved as he is - and waking up and facing the cold unshakable reality of his duty. 

Would it truly be so terrible to dream, just a little while longer?

"Do you have somewhere you need to be in such a hurry, emma lath?" Evie said in as playful a tone as she could manage, in an attempt to mask her growing concern. 

He sighed, tense shoulders falling in defeat. He was a cornered animal, in a trap of his own making. 

"I- I'm sorry.” he sighs again, feeling himself uncharacteristically shrink in on himself, “I fear if I were to remain here, what little restraint I yet have would invariably falter. It–" he throws his hands up as he finally turns to face her, if only to further punctuate his statement. "It wouldn't be right.

"Restraint..?" she shot him a small puzzled look, "And what exactly are you holding back?"

He shook his head, unable to do anything but huff a small sad laugh. What indeed?

Evie moves to slowly close the distance between them, that growing concern now clearly etched upon her features as she met his gaze. He was always such a carefully guarded man, and she knew that seeing this side of him was a rare glimpse into his soul that very few - if anyone - got a chance to see. His loneliness. His guilt. His distrust. All bricks in this fortress he built around himself.

And it pained her.

"Would letting go… would it really be so terrible?" 

"You deserve better."

"And who are you to decide what I deserve?"  her tone is amused, if mildly incredulous, "What does that even mean, anyway?" she sighs as she takes another step closer toward him. "And why does it even matter? You are who I want to be with." 

"You truly have no idea what that means, vhenan."

"So tell me."

He looks at her - forlorn and defeated - he knows he should just walk away and end it now. But he won't. He knows full well he won't. He can't.

His expression shifts into something far more steely, his posture and demeanour returning to his typical, far more in command neutrality.  

However this was going to pan out he needed his composure. 

No cracks. No weakness.

"I've been hurt more times than I can count." he began, "So much betrayal, and people lost... I couldn't put that heavy burden on you."  He frowns as he paces where he stands. His hands firmly planted on his hips as he tries to keep his emotions in check. “You've shown me more kindness than I deserve. If you only knew what I have done? I'm not so sure you'd welcome me so freely… yet to lose you? That would break me. But to stay would be a far crueller fate."

Evie let his words wash over her like a sombre melody. He had - as he often had - said so much whilst saying so little. 

But it was enough. 

"Solas..." her voice barely above a whisper as she closes what little space remains between them, "Whatever it is you've done? Whatever you've been through? It’s in the past. I only know the man standing in front of me right now." She reaches a hand to touch him, placing it gently on his chest, "And what I see is no monster."

A crack. A weakness.

His composure briefly falters, the hand on his chest like a searing brand, the weight anchoring him in place. 

If only she knew.

Evie was the first to break this tense silence between them, she could see plainly that Solas was agitated, that she had opened up some old unseen wounds. And she had no desire to push him any further. 

“Solas. Ir abelas... I’m sorry.” She moved her hand to gently touch his cheek, the sensation snapping him out of his thoughts and back to her. “I didn’t mean to cause any upset. If you need time, if you need to leave…?” She takes a step back then, giving him space and a gentle smile.

He regards her for a moment, this small, mortal thing. A shadow of who she should be and yet filled with far more compassion than he had seen in millennia. It was all too real, and he found himself utterly powerless. Laid low by something as simple as unwavering kindness and a gentle heart.

It terrified him.

But he wanted more. 

“Thank you.” he finally spoke, his demeanour softening as he did so. “But that will not be necessary.” 

The anguish on his features seemed to melt away in an instant, replaced with a look nothing short of complete adoration. 

He chose to dream.

“Are you sure..?” she asked, somewhat bemused by his sudden change of tune. 

“In truth, there is very little I am sure about in this world, vhenan. But for you? I think I can make an exception.”

“Oh, well!” she laughed, “I’m honoured! I think?” 

Evie barely had time to appreciate the far more relaxed atmosphere that replaced the tension from earlier, her playful laughter cut short as Solas all but pounced on her, arms pulling her into a heady embrace that left her breathless. With one hand pressed at the small of her back, pulling her closer, and another gripped into her hair as he kissed her in ways that let her know his proclivity for tongue was not limited to the Fade. 

He was lost in the moment, enjoying being just Solas. The weight of his guilt and duty set aside even if only for the briefest of moments. Being seen – being loved – as just a man, and not some symbol greater than himself, for good or ill.

It delighted him.

The kiss soon broke just enough to give a very dazed Evie a chance to catch her breath. Solas pressed his forehead affectionately to hers, the tender gesture a contrast to the devilish look in his eyes as he all but admired his handiwork. 

“Fenhedis, Solas!” she huffed, “A little warning next time would be nice!”

There was a dark and mischievous quality to the chuckle she got in reply. He was far far too pleased with himself.

And all Evie could think at that moment was; Varric was right, it really is the quiet ones…

“And where would the fun in that be, vhenan?” 

The low, salacious quality his voice took on as he emphasised that otherwise rather innocuous endearment made Evie feel a little giddy. Seeing this side of him was certainly a rare treat, and one she would happily savour.

She could feel his eyes begin to bore into her, his body tensing like a coiled spring under her every touch.

Yet despite his obvious eagerness, he was waiting, patiently holding himself back until she, presumably, gave him some kind of sign that he could continue what he started. 

And she was more than happy to oblige. 

Twisting her fingers around the leather cord of the jawbone necklace he was never seen without, she gave it a coaxing tug as she took a step back toward the bed. 

He didn’t need telling twice.

________________

Sunlight gently filtered through the stained glass windows of Evie’s quarters, the colourful dappled light soon rousing her from sleep as it shimmered against her eyelids. With a sigh she wearily blinked her eyes against the light, wanting nothing more than to just roll over and go back to sleep.

Surely the Inquisition could go one day without her.

Wriggling herself under the blanket – just five more minutes – she patted the side of the bed where her lover should be, only to find it empty. 

She found she unfortunately wasn’t all that surprised by this outcome, but her heart still sank all the same. 

One step forward, two steps back.

“Ah! You’re awake. I took the liberty of getting the kitchen staff to bring us some breakfast.”

Evie jolted with a start at the unexpected voice, throwing the blanket away from her buried head to see Solas standing at the foot of the bed, half dressed with a platter of what looked to be griddle cakes and fresh fruit.

Bewildered, she shuffled herself to sit up, tucking the blanket around her naked form.

“Solas! I–” she hated how surprised she sounded, and likely how surprised she looked. “I thought–, I assumed you’d already left!”

There was a briefest flash of pain on his face. Her surprise at him still being here was far from unwarranted, his track record had sadly, hardly been admirable. 

It made him want to do better.

She deserved better. 

“Ah, but how could I leave, and miss out on seeing you like this.” his voice an impish lilt, smirking as he cocked his head, “Or for that matter, how would I be able to bring you breakfast?”

He moved to his side of the bed, crawling back beside her as he placed the platter of food on her lap. Evie watched him intently as he settled himself comfortably beside her, his arms soon snaking around her in an embrace as he placed a gentle kiss at her temple.

Still somewhat bewildered, it was all she could do to absentmindedly pluck a berry off the plate in front of her, popping it in her mouth as she was lost in thought. 

If there was one thing she could say about Solas, it was that he was hardly lacking in surprises. 

Settling into his embrace, she wrapped a free arm around him in turn, lightly dragging her nails over his scalp as she continued to idly pick away at the fruit platter.

The way in which Solas leaned into her touch made her smile. It was a bit like she was petting a needy cat - or perhaps a dog - although, she mused, maybe owing to their equally hairless nature, a nug would be more apt? 

She giggled at the thought.

“Is something amusing, vhenan?” he mumbled, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. 

“No.” she turned herself further into his embrace, “No. I’m just happy.”

Solas hummed with approval into her skin as he began to pepper kisses along her neck and jaw. There was an unhurried, almost sleepy quality to the way he grazed his lips over her. His hands lazily trailing down her body, oblivious, or perhaps simply uncaring to the fact he almost knocked the food off the bed. 

“Solas.” she huffed in mild amusement as she moved the plate away just in time, placing it carefully on the small bedside table, “I take it you have no need of breakfast, then?”

“My heart.” he drawled between kisses, his grip pulling her body flush with his in a manner that let her know he perhaps had altogether very different things on his mind, “I have all I need right here.”

[hanalghilan]

Dragon Age: Inquisition (dev. Bioware)

[journal-of-an-outlaw]

Alright what are the best ao3 sollevan (I think that’s how you spell it) fics out there? I’m ready to go back, I’m strapped in

[inkywarden]

Sir,

[in-arlathan]

And so we begin again: With part one complete, I couldn't help but continue with my Elvhenan fic. Introducing “The Rebel's Ruin”, in which we follow Fen'Harel during his first rebellion, as well as one of his former agents who tries to stop him at all costs.

We'll start with some lore and backstory

Recap of Part One – A full summary of all plot beats from "The Rebel's Ascension" for old and new readers

The Ancient World – An overview of the world building from Part One

The Ages of Elvhenan – An overview history of the elven empire as I built it for this series.

Character List – A list of all important canon and original characters in the story (will be updated as the story progresses)

The prologue and first chapter will follow soon, I promise! You'll find the fic summary and a full list of AO3 tags under the cut. Happy reading! :)

Title: The Rebel’s Ruin Fandom: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Character(s), Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Solas (Dragon Age), Fen'Harel (Dragon Age), Original Female Character(s), Original Elvhen Character(s), Original Elvhen | Ancient Elven Characters (Dragon Age), Mythal (Dragon Age), Elgar'nan (Dragon Age), Dirthamen (Dragon Age), Falon'Din (Dragon Age), Andruil (Dragon Age), Ghilan'nain (Dragon Age), Sylaise (Dragon Age), June (Dragon Age), Elvhen God(s) (Dragon Age), Felassan (Dragon Age), Abelas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age)

Additional Tags: Dragon Age Lore, Elvhen Lore, Head-Canons Galore, Elvhen Pantheon, Elvhenan, Speculation on Elven History, Speculation on Pre-Veil Magic, Lovers To Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Yes We Have Both and It's Complicated, Past Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Past Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Time Skips, Dark Solas (Dragon Age), Solas is Fen'Harel (Dragon Age), Solas is Grim and Fatalistic (Dragon Age), POV Solas (Dragon Age), POV Original Female Character, Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Romance, Pining, Smut, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Dark, Dark Fantasy, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence, Blood and Violence, Blood and Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags

Series: Part 2 of The Rise & Fall of Fen'Harel

Summary:

Seven years have passed since Fen’Harel has revealed his plan to end the world. Seven years, in which former Inquisitor Elenara Lavellan has tried and failed to stop him. Now all her hopes lie with a woman named Felani, a former agent of Fen’Harel, who knows more about the Dread Wolf’s secrets than anyone else…

Almost 4,000 years earlier, Fen'Harel's rebellion is in full swing and the Evanuris are trying to bring an end to it. Falon'Din is amassing more and more worshipers to take down the Dread Wolf and his armies. But his actions cause unrest among the gods. So Mythal calls for negotiations to secure the future of the elvhen empire – only to be murdered. Fen'Harel has to make a decision: Surrender to the power of the gods or stop them by all means – even if it means destroying the world.

Continuing the events of the first part, we dive deep into the ancient past and explore everything that happened up to the creation of the Veil. This fic jumps between the time after Trespasser when Lavellan is trying to track down Solas, and the time of Elvhenan and the elven rebellion, so buckle in!

NSFW chapters will be marked with *

[n7inky-fanfics]

Searching for fic ideas

My several months of absolutely packed schedules is almost at an end, and with this I hope to write more fanfic! However, I'm searching for inspiration, and so I thought I'd ask y'all... Do you have prompts or ideas for a fic?

I'm hoping to write for Inquisitor Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor Lavellan/Dorian Pavus, Inquisitor Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus, Inquisitor Lavellan/Solas, Female Shepard/Kaidan Alenko, or Female Ryder/Vetra Nyx. I'll also write about friendships in those fandoms! All recommendations welcome! (Though I can't guarantee I'll write them all)

[plisuu]

a quick primer

crackship - a ship or pairing that is absolutely absurd and implausible between characters that often have little-to-no canon interaction.

crackship: Cullen/Nug King, Horse Master Dennett/Corypheus, Inquisitor/Solas's Desk

not a crackship: Cullen/Dorian, Cassandra/Solas, Briala/Lavellan, etc (these are often rare-pairs!)

slash fic - slash fic, or "m slash" is fic featuring characters of the same gender in a romantic or sexually intimate relationship. Traditionally used to refer to m/m (f/f is called "fem slash", but "slash fic" is generally assumed m/m)

"/" and "x" pairings - a "/" pairing is romantic or sexual (not to be confused with "slash" fic). "x" in a ship name used to denote the same thing.

"&" pairing - used to refer to other types of general (gen fic) relationships such as platonic or familial relationships.

[thatapostateboy]

just for one day

Pairing: Eva 'Rook' Mercar x Davrin, background mention of Solas x F!Lavellan

Word Count: 2957

Synopsis: Rook steals some time away with Davrin

Warnings: Brief description of battle and suggestive sexual comments, written pre-release so may be OOC, does contain some spoilers but they are very mild and only stuff from the first mentions/trailers so read at your own peril

Crossposted: Here on AO3

“Why are we hiking up a mountain fully armed and armoured, but without any backup?” Davrin asked.

Rook glanced around at him from where she was leading the way, “Well that would ruin the whole point of it being a surprise, now wouldn’t it? Besides, we’re not fully without backup.”

She nodded upwards to where Assan was soaring overhead, having followed the pair of them as they headed through the eluvian out of the Lighthouse, and into what looked like remote Orlesian wilderness.

“You must be expecting trouble, else you wouldn’t have insisted on the armour,” he pointed out.

“The whole world’s in trouble,” she reminded him, “I just figured we could do with blowing off a little steam.”

“If you wanted somewhere more public to blow off some steam, I am sure there are places in the Lighthouse we could-”

“Not like that!” she snorted, pausing in her steps to look at him, “Though, keep that thought in mind, I’m interested where it’s going, and I appreciate you going along with what you thought was an exhibitionist kink. My actual plan was for us to go on a monster hunt.”

“Really?”

“You’re a monster hunter who’s had to fight some stuff well beyond your pay grade recently, and I thought we could go back to basics. You get to show me all your fancy moves, Assan will get some practice in, I get to swoon over how hot you look, and we get to fight something that isn’t world-ending together.”

He chuckled softly then met her eyes. The last mission, well, every mission since they had met, had meant losing more than winning. And even when they won, it had come at a cost. He knew how hard she took every loss, even if she hid it behind sharp wit and unending sarcasm, there was no doubting the toll it took on her. He suspected that this was as much a distraction for her as it was intended for him.

“Okay then, monster hunting it is,” he smiled, receiving one in return, the true unmeasured smile that she reserved specifically for him… and Assan, though he’d never point that out, “What are we hunting?”

“A wyvern.”

“Have you ever faced a wyvern before?” he asked as he continued to follow her up the mountain path.

“No, but how hard can it be to kill one?” she shrugged, throwing a smirk back at him, “Orlesians do it for fun.”

~*~*~

As it would turn out, it was much harder to kill a wyvern than she had originally planned. The beast had been twice the size of what she had been in one of Davrin’s books, which had led to this idea, and its venom had stung like an absolute bitch when she dodged one of its attacks too slowly. The next blow, however, had been blocked expertly by Davrin’s shield, effortlessly holding off the creature’s maw and he’d had to shout at her to stop staring and stab the damn thing.

She’d shot him a grin and a wink and slid under his legs to slice at the wyvern’s throat. It had thrashed and roared in pain, knocking both Warden and Shadow Dragon flying with its flailing body. It began to charge towards Eva, but all it took was a decisive whistle from Davrin and a bolt of feathers and sharp claws came tearing down from the sky, finishing the beast with a deadly strike.

Assan looked up and chirped at Davrin, wide eyes seeking praise for the kill.

“Good boy,” he said, giving him a well-earned scratch behind the ears.

The griffon preened then began to tuck into the tough flesh of the wyvern after Davrin gave him an approving nod.

The Warden wiped the beads of sweat away from his forehead as he looked for his companion, spotting her propped against a rock, not far from where the wyvern had tossed her, staring away from the scene of the battle, into the valley below.

“Eva,” he called to her, “Are you alright?”

She leapt to her feet, spinning to look at him with a wide grin across her face, her hair a complete mess, face and armour splattered with blood. She all but threw herself into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and pressing a hard kiss to his mouth.

He hummed in surprise, but kissed her back nonetheless, enjoying the warmth of her form against his. She was still a little breathless, the tremble of adrenaline coursing through her body. He felt her starting to tug on the buckles of his armour, loosening it just enough to slip her hands inside, desperate to feel the heat of his skin.

He knew this dance far too well. He had roughly thirty seconds before she used those quick roguish fingers to get him down to his breeches.

“How quickly do you think we can get back to the Lighthouse?” he asked, words barely out of his mouth as she kissed him hungrily again, and again.

She paused, looking up at him, “What happened to indulging my exhibition streak?”

“I have no qualms about getting you naked in a field,” he admitted, before he reached a hand up to rub some grime away from her face, “But we are both covered in blood, and guts, and gods knows what else… So perhaps we park this, and reconvene in the bathhouse?”

She met his eyes, a little scrunch to her nose as she conceded that he was being sensible, “Counteroffer… we go wash off in the lake and you can still have me naked in a field.”

“What lake?”

“The one about five minutes that one down the path,” she hooked a thumb over her shoulder.

He cocked a brow at her, “Is that what you were looking at after the fight?”

“Perhaps.”

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head to himself, “Counteroffer accepted.”

She grabbed hold of his hand and yanked him towards the path, giving him just enough time to shout at Assan to stay put and enjoy the wyvern carcass.

~*~*~

He had to admit, the lake had been an excellent idea.

The lake itself sat in a beautiful clearing, surrounded by trees on one side, part of the mountainside on the other, giving them complete privacy and serene surroundings… until Rook had gone barelling past him, clothes abandoned in her wake, leaping into the water before loudly yelling that it was Maker fucking blasting bastard cold.

He had chuckled as he watched her splash around, before stripping off himself, her eyes immediately on him as he bared himself to her, wading calmly into the lake to join her.

She latched herself onto him instantly, seeking his natural warmth, and steadier form as he quickly realised that she was not a confident swimmer. Not that he minded of course, it meant being able to hold her against him, feel every inch of her as she clung to him, giddy and breathless as they lazily kissed, the adrenaline from the fight melting away as they enjoyed the peace to simply be together.

It had, of course, still ended with the pair of them twisted together beneath the boughs of a willow tree, laying atop his discarded cloak so that she didn’t get grass in her hair.

“I could get used to this,” she said softly as she rested her against his chest, idly tracing old scars on his skin.

“You once told me you’d rather eat halla shit than willingly camp outside. I think this evening might be a one off,” he pointed out with a chuckle.

“Hey, that was months ago,” she protested with a laugh of her own, “I feel like I’ve grown as a person since then. Besides, my partner is a Dalish monster hunting Grey Warden. I think some camping may come with the territory. I’m not saying that I’m going to be getting vallaslin or reaching for the Joining cup again time soon, but if we live through this, if we actually save the world and get our lives back… I think I could get used to more days like this.”

He glanced down at her, taking in the look in her eyes.

It wasn’t often that she was emotionally vulnerable with him, even less that she spoke of the future. She focused on the present, on the dangers directly in front of them. She wasn’t one to hope for anything past surviving day to day. Even when they had begun their love affair, it had started as something borne from mutual attraction and seeking some company. It was meant to be one night, and then back to being colleagues in the morning. And yet, it had kept happening. They would seek each other out for physical comfort, a distraction, and soon it had become more than that; spending hours talking about their pasts, getting to know the different sides of elven culture from each other, laughing and joking about the most ridiculous things, tucking her in as she fell asleep in the chair in front of his fire.

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t begun to think of a future, what it would look like if they truly made it through this. He would still be a Grey Warden, there would always be monsters to fight, but there wouldn’t always be a reason for Eva to be at his side… not unless she chose to be.

She had a life of her own outside of the Veilguard. She was a Shadow Dragon, she had fought for years against corruption in Tevinter, giving everything she had in the fight for freedom for every slave. And beyond that, she had a home that she some day wished to return to.

And now, here she was, looking at him with an almost pleading expression, seeing if he wanted the same thing; a future that they could decide on together.

He leaned down and kissed her, gently at first before he deepened it, pulling her flush against him.

“Evanura,” he whispered against her mouth, “Ar lath ma.”

~*~*~

The next morning

“Solas, can I ask you something?”

She was drawn into their shared pocket of the Fade, the one he existed in physically that she could see into in her mind’s eye to allow them to communicate.

He stepped before her, and she watched a small, familiar smirk cross his face, as it often did when she said something that entertained him, “You rarely ask permission before bombarding me with questions.”

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t be a smart ass, I just need your help translating something.”

“Very well,” he nodded, a hint of curiosity in his eyes, “I will assist where I am able.”

“It was a phrase I heard, I mean- came across when… reading.”

“Go on.”

“I believe it to be elven, but I have never heard it before, not even in the long tirades where you are chiding me for something.”

He chuckled a little at that, “It may be colloquial to the more modern Dalish elves, but I am sure I can trace it back to its root.”

“It was… ar lath ma.”

And for the first time in more years than he could fathom, the Dread Wolf was struck silent.

He remembers the first time he’d said it to her, unable to control himself as he finally gave in to her for the first time. Not in the Fade, but in physical flesh, the taste of her mouth still lingering on his lips, the warmth of her skin still palpable even as he pulled away, murmuring the words as he did, a confession that he hoped she had never heard.

She had been kind, had not chased after him, had given him the time to say it again when he was ready.

Until that night at the Winter Palace, when he had danced with her under the stars, and she had invited him back to her chambers. He had tried to stay away, but she proved to be his weakness. She had said it herself then, declared so boldly that he wondered if the lingering servants and spies in the hall had heard her. She had kissed him, whispering the words sweetly against his skin as they both gave in to temptation 

It was always in elven, their pet names, the soft ‘ma’lath’ and ‘vhenan’ they would call each other, the declarations of love… until that night in Crestwood. She had said it to him then, a hitch in her breath as she held back tears, telling him that she loved him.

Don’t do this, not now… I love you.

And when he had seen her again, the day she discovered the truth, and she had questioned it any of it had been real. If only she could have known that it was the only real thing he knew anymore.

He snapped back to himself when he realised that Rook was still in front of him, looking at him concerned.

“Da’len…” he said quietly, “You know what it means.”

“This isn’t the time for one of your ‘Eva doesn’t listen to me’ lectures. I have never heard those words before.”

“Evanura,” he sighed her name, “Listen to your instincts. You know what your Warden feels.”

“How did you know that’s where I heard it? Besides, he’s not my-“ she began to protest in her usual fashion until the realisation hit her, “Wait! That’s… it means…?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit! But that’s…” a look of dawning horror crossed her face, “Oh I’ve fucked up.”

He frowned, “What did you do?”

“He may have said that… and I may have walked away from him.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You didn’t ask what it meant?”

“I was embarrassed. I’m starting to learn the language from you, and from him, and Bellara, but I didn’t know that one so I just, kinda… laughed it off.”

“Go find him.”

“But-”

“It is a rare thing, to find someone who holds your heart. He knows you well enough to know you are not cruel… Go to him.”

~*~*~

Across the Lighthouse, sat with a frown on her face, Harding levelled a look at Davrin.

“So what exactly did you say?”

“Well, we were both covered in wyvern blood, and-”

“Yeah, I don’t need to hear the details of how you guys had sex in the woods.”

“How did you know?”

“Neither of you are subtle, and I helped Rook scout the place out,” she admitted, “Get to the part where you confessed your undying love and she ignored you.”

“It was… after,” he said, “We were laying together under this willow tree, watching the sun set over the lake, it was beautiful, and peaceful, it was the most perfect moment. So I kissed her, and then I looked into her eyes and said ar lath ma. And she stared at me for a second before she just smiled, got up and declared that she was going swimming. She jumped right into the lake. It’s not even that she didn’t say it back, or if she told me it was too soon, but she just ignored that I said it.”

Harding raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re an idiot.”

“Wait- why?”

“Just think about it. For a minute. Think about why she might have ignored you saying ar lath ma.”

She watched him intently before he let out a gasp and put his face in his hands, “I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are.”

~*~*~

She burst out of the doorway at the base of one of the towers, heading quickly across the courtyard towards Davrin’s quarters when she saw a familiar figure leaving from the other building, striding purposefully towards her.

“Eva!” he called to her, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. There’s something I need to tell you.”

She reached for him as they met, grasping at his hands like she was scared he was going to disappear in front of her, “I know. I need to talk to you too.”

“Eva, I love-”

“Davrin, ar lath-”

“You.”

“Ma.”

They looked at each other with giddy smiles, still clutching to each other’s hands.

“Wait… you know what that means?” he asked.

“I didn’t, until about three minutes ago,” she admitted.

“How did you… Oh gods, you asked Solas, didn’t you?”

She chewed her lip, “Maybe.”

“Well, the Dread Wolf knows far too much about my love life as it is already. What’s one more thing?”

She giggled, reaching up to cup his cheek, “Do you mean it? What you said, did you really mean it?”

“Of course. I love you, Eva, ma lath, ma vhenan, and whatever the future brings, I want to be at your side.”

“I love you too. You make me want something after this, a life together, something to fight for.”

“Can you two just suck face already?” Taash called from one of the nearby balconies where they turned to realise that all of the other members of the Veilguard had gathered outside of their prospective rooms to see this confession come to fruition.

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint our audience,” Rook grinned, leaning up and kissing him.

He wrapped his arms tight around her, dipping her back a little like he had seen described in those terrible romance novels Varric wrote, earning shouts and applause from their friends.

Whatever happened, whatever tragedies they would face tomorrow or the day after, they were both willing to fight for something more, a life beyond, and even if it would never come to pass, they had today, this moment, and nothing, no ancient elven god or even his Calling, would take that from them.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

The Rabbit

Lavellan x Blackwall

18+ drug use (weed), dom/sub, thigh riding, breast worship (f!), rough oral (f!), multiple orgasms, rough sex, p-in-v, doggy style, dirty talk, squirting, choking, spitting, unprotected sex, violence, blood and gore, tearful goodbyes

The battle for all of Thedas nearly drawn to their door, Vella and her bear share an urgent night of passion before it all falls around them...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

-

"Really? You never learned how to play Wicked Grace?" Varric gave her a dubious stare.

"Is that so unbelievable?" Vella countered, sidling up to the table. "How easily you've forgotten I'm a wild woman from the forest." She sighed with mock weariness, smiling at Blackwall as his hand came to her hip.

Cullen flitted his gaze as she plopped into Blackwall's lap.

"You never taught her?" Varric directed at Blackwall, that amused sparkle in his eye.

"Are you kidding?" Blackwall laughed, his wide hand squeezed her thigh under the table. "You thought Solas could play you out of the clothes on your back? Nah, I know a card shark in the making when I see one."

Vella scoffed in mock affront and stuck her tongue out at him. Cullen caught on his own spit at the reveal of her tongue ring. Suddenly, he was very focused on his cards after a few solid coughs.

"Oh, he's got you pegged." Dorian agreed.

"Actually, I'm the one-"

"Could we start, please?" Cullen cut her off, his face scarlet. "I have a thousand things to do."

Bull laughed behind his hand, giving her an appreciative wink as he pushed coin onto the table. Vella smiled and tossed her leg over her thigh, lighting a pipe of elfroot.

"You're going to give the poor man a complex." Blackwall laughed low, speaking Elvhen to her under his breath. Spreading his cards in his hand.

"If that's all it takes..." She hummed mischievously.

"Hey! No elf whispering." Varric chided. "I'm barely convinced you don't know how to play as it is."

"Varric!" Vella gasped, leaning on a palm. Giving the slightest wiggle in Blackwall's lap. "Have I not proven myself trustworthy yet?"

"Oh no, Sunshine." He warned in a tease. "You may be sweet, but women as beautiful as you are always cunning."

Vella smiled wide.

He was right, of course. She had never played this game, but their companions tells were easy told to her. Even more so as the drink started flowing. Her own imbibing herbs left her warm and fizzled, leaning back into Blackwall's wide chest as content as a cat in a sunbeam.

Vella smiled at Cullen as he spun a tale from his templar days. It was rather tame to her standards, but he told it with the boisterous joy of retelling something rather sordid.

"What did he do?" Josephine urged through a giggle.

"Saluted. Turned on his heel. And marched out like he was in full armor."

The table lit with laughter, appreciative remarks thrown from all sides. The air warm with drunken comradery.

Blackwall's hand had come to rest on the curve of her hipbone, giving his own rough chuckle. A slow but insistent drag of his thumb on her waist had started, a near unconscious sign of his hidden desire.

She couldn't help but agree. This strain of elfroot left her snuggly and needful, barely restrained from kissing at his throat at the table.

It was criminal how attracted she was to this man. At all times, in danger of rubbing into him like a beast in heat. Gods when they finally get to live together...

The thought intruded, as it was bound to.

If. Not when.

They were facing down Corypheus within the next few days, she was sure of it. Though she was without foresight, there was something tight pulled in her gut. A certainty that he was somewhere within her horizon.

But she didn't want to think about that now. Only focused on the warmth surrounded behind her and the sensation of being slow and soft. Blinking up at him in adoration.

His stare caught hers, smiling under his mustache.

"No need to stare at me like that, dove. I'm already in love with you, don't need more persuading."

"You two are so..." Cassandra sighed dreamily, face propped on both hands. Eyes aglow with the unabashed reverie only brought out with a few tankards of beer.

"Careful Seeker," Varric chuckled. "You might come off as a romantic. And I just won." He planted the Angel of Death card on the table nonchalantly.

"No!" Cassandra cried. Slamming her hand of cards down in a huff.

But all of their companions became peripheral to Vella as her body saught for more touch. Both the elfroot and the heat of his body had left her heavy and sighing. Nuzzling into his throat like a hungry kitten.

"Do you need my attention, little bird?" He teased under his breath. But she could feel the drum of his heart against her. He needed it just as bad as she did.

"Are you going to win?" She whispered in his ear.

"Absolutely not." He chuckled.

"Then throw the game and fuck me." The whisper pushed directly into the well.

His breath caught in his throat, and she smiled against it. Rising off his lap to give a demure goodnight to their friends. Many voices rung out to wish her off, and she sauntered away. Headed towards her chambers.

Vella made her way upstairs, humming happily. Shedding her clothes in a line as she made her way to the bed. Snatching one of Blackwall's tunics that she had 'borrowed' from the back of a chair. Letting the linen fall over her as she pulled her hair through the neck to cascade down her back again.

She climbed into the bed with the satisfaction of a rabbit in a burrow. Curling up in the blankets as it pulls the earth around it. Humming out in contentment.

She had just fallen into a near sleep tranquility when the bed shifted behind her. Strong arms taken up around her under blankets.

"Mmm..." She turned, pressing into him. "You're made for cuddling."

"Am I?" He chuckled low, pulling her to him by her waist. Weaving his limbs into hers.

"Very. So big and warm and sweet." She praised, wiggling happily into his hold.

"And furry." She added, tugging in a soft tease on his beard. "I just want to kiss you all the time. You're wonderful."

"Maker, you're going to puddle me." He accused, his pupils wide with love as he stared down at her. "That elfroot made you too sweet."

"And yet, I'm not being eaten." She sighed mournfully. "I thought bears liked honey."

The blood rushing through her body was utterly intoxicated by the feeling of him against her. Tangling her limbs into his and kissing at his throat.

"Do you want to be tasted, honey?" He hushed, voice husky with desire.

She nodded up at him, her eyes seeking plaintively.

She had always leaned towards dominance in intimacy, but he pulled something from her. Something soft and submissive. Fallen under him a tame little thing, asking to be touched with wide eyes and softly parted lips.

"You're so beautiful." He marveled quietly, running his thumb over her bottom lip. Scanning her face in reverent glances. "Maker, how are you so perfect?"

He leaned down and kissed into the side of her neck. A wide hand pushed up her ribcage to cup her breast, thumbing her nipple over his tunic.

She whined softly, pulling his leg with hers to press his thigh against her sex. Grinding slow into the taut muscle.

"Fuck, yes." He encouraged, pressing his thigh harder into the ridge of her. Grabbing her ass in a handful to rock her against him.

"Could you cum on my thigh?" His deep voice sweet in its request.

She nodded again, pulling the tunic up to her clavicle. Arching her chest up in unabashed request.

He agreed immediately, breathing hard through nose as his mouth descended onto her peak. Licking the sensitive nub into his lips.

She bit into her lip as her head craned back. Another whine caught in her throat. The growl of his moan against her tingled through her whole body. Her cunt fully flooded with arousal. Climbing closer and closer to her tipping point with each grind of her hips. Her soft cries getting needy and choppy.

His tongue slurped and popped around her nipple, tongue flicking and laving flat lines through panted breaths. Watching her under his brow with dark blown eyes. Twisting her other nipple between his fingers.

How he already knew how to fast pull her thread was entirely unfair. The points of her body and how they needed to be touched to unravel her completely.

"Oh gods..." She moaned, gripping his forearm. Orgasm tight pulled in the drive of her hips.

"Yes, cum on me pretty girl." He praised around her breast. Grasping the outside of her thigh, pulling her deeper. "I want to lick your cunt while it's clenching."

The vulgar of it sent her over. Shuddering through waves of pleasure striking out through her body. Clawing into his back.

He smiled, rising off her tender breast to descend between her legs. Cupping the apex of her thighs in both hands.

"So sweet." He sighed out in contentment as he nestled between. Licking her cum from her thighs. The bristle of his beard teased against the soft skin as his tongue pushed deep into her. Slurping obscenely as he lapped cum into his mouth.

"I love you." She sighed around her moans, pressing her hand against the headboard as he took her apart with a suckling tongue. "Fuck, I love you Thom."

She froze, the intoxicating herbs and touch had left her mind hazy. But her calling of his true name only drove him harder against her. His calloused hands dug into the fat of her thighs, moaning into her core. Yanking her flush to his face. Eating voraciously, tongue and lips crushing into her with animal fervor.

She whimpered cries, and he growled into her. His steel eyes watched her writhe under his brow. His fingernails dug painfully into her thighs, but the pain only danced deliciously with her delirious pleasure. A flood about to burst the dam.

He lapped flat at her tender clit under the suction of his lips. Just the sound was enough to send her over, but the ferocity was overkill. She came in a strangled, shuddered cry. Her body trembled and curled up with a terrible pleasure. Fisting in to the sheets as her head craned back. Pelvis the nexus of an earthquake that rocked her whole body.

"Ohhh fuck yes." Thom growled, leaning back to thrust his fingers into her still clenching cunt. Eliciting a cry from her as he fast slammed his fingers inside. "Give it to me, baby."

A shuddering she had rarely experienced tightened around his fingers. Her thighs wet with release. She clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle a shriek. Her eyes utterly lost in her skull.

Thoms deep groans of appreciation watching her soak him were only heightened by him pulling his fingers free slowly to lick them clean. He kept her gaze as he licked his wrist up into his palm, her cum slick veiled along his skin.

She urged him up to her with pulls of her legs. Undressing him with rapid fingers as he met her above.

She opened her mouth wide, tongue stuck out flat in request. He understood implicitly and spat in her mouth. Her cunt clenched hard and she led his hand to her throat as she kicked off his trousers.

His reverent love making was wonderful, but this is what she always craved. Fucking nasty and mean. The kind of fucking done by animals in rut.

His eyes flashed dangerously, understanding her again. Flipping her onto her belly easily, hiking her hips high with rough grunting yanks.

She moaned into the pillows, arching her back. Giving him the full display of her submissive body curled for him.

"Maker's breath." He huffed, taking a full handful of her ass. Spreading his hand down her lower back. "Such a beautiful whore."

Vella moaned loudly, and Thom grabbed a fistful of her hair. Pulling her up to him as he lined up behind her. Growling into her ear as his hand tightened around her throat.

"You're my whore, aren't you?" His thick cock breached her as he threatened, pulling a strangled moan from her. "My pretty little whore, soaking the bed."

She nodded dumbly, already fluttering around the mass of him. A third orgasm refining to a spear inside her, nearing to striking distance.

"That's right." He huffed, thrusting hard into her. The slide against that mind-numbing place inside her entrance was near unbearable. Her body tried to collapse against the sheets, but his hand spread flat across her sternum. Demanding her to stay.

"You're not going anywhere." He promised in a huff. His thrusts picked up speed. "Not until I'm done with you."

"Yes, ser." She moaned. The squelching of her cunt so salacious it made her dizzy.

"Keep talking." He demanded. Gripping her hip as an anchor. Her body jolting with the force of his thrusts. Fingers digging into her neck.

"I can't, I'm about to cum!" She pleaded in Elvhen around mewls, mind unable to speak Common anymore. "Fuck, you're going to make me-"

Her words cut off in a whip of cries as she came again. Fingernails scrambled into his sides behind her. Choking on her own raw pleasure.

He cursed under his breath and released her in a heap under him. His hands took up both sides of her hips to solely thrust.

"Say my name."

"Thom." She pleaded.

"Again. Louder."

"Thom, please! Please!"

She looked over her shoulder at the wild bear rutting into her.

"Please cum Thom! I need you to cum!"

He finally buckled, a hand bracing on her lower back as his face crumpled in release. Driving sloppy into her as he bellowed behind clenched teeth. Her cunt flooded with warmth, pulling a wide smile from her. No matter how he insisted and promised he couldn't help but to cum inside her. It wasn't a problem anymore, so she could revel fully in it.

He fell back into an open kneel, huffing and sweating. Eyes glazed and rolling marble in his head.

Vella turned and pulled him onto his belly. His body limp and pliant to her leading, following easily. Fallen under her in a slump.

She sat on him and drug her nails lightly up and down his back. His deep moan exactly what she was looking for.

After a moment of gentle scratching, his breath returned in slow pulls of his chest. Body completely loose under hers, arms curled around his head, face slack against the pillow.

"You still with me?" She teased in a quiet voice.

"Uh-huh..." He sighed, his eyes struggling to focus.

"I'm not convinced. Quick, what's the capital of Orlais?"

He smacked her thigh with a limp palm. Pulling a giggle from her.

"Asshole..." He laughed, reaching back to pull her down to him. Wrapping around her, cocooned within the safety of his limbs.

"Language!" She chided in a whisper.

"Shit. Fuck." He pinched her side. "Motherfucker."

"You forgot Shitfucker."

"I love you." He smiled loosely at her, eyes soft in adoration. "Do you want to get married?"

"What?" She laughed.

"Wait, are you serious?" She hushed, rising onto elbows over his head.

"Yeah. I am." He smiled, her hair fallen curtain around him. His hands rested on her ribcage, rubbing thumbs in slow waves. "Would you marry me?"

"Dalish don't get married." She smiled with a shaken head. "We call it Bonding. And we're already engaged to be bonded, silly."

"Wait, what?" He stood on elbows now. Staring shock into her.

"Yeah, I gave you my hair..." She led in amused confusion. Planting a palm over the small pouch that he always wore pendant around his neck. "You gave me the boots you made me..."

"That was a proposal?!"

She burst into bright laughter at the absurdity of it all. She was sure he understood the meaning of the gesture after all of their lessons. He certainly acted with the appropriate solemn in taking her proposal gift.

"Yes, it was. We've been engaged to be bonded since the Grand Ball." She offered through fits of giggling.

"I-" His eyes darted down in thought, then started flooding with tears.

"Oh, dove." He warbled.

"Hey, shhh." She wrapped around him. Soothing his body into hers. "It's okay..."

"It's not okay." He countered around the tight of his throat. "I did all of that to you and didn't even know we were..."

"I forgive you." She kissed his ear, tightly holding him. "I forgive you, Thom."

He hitched a sob into her shoulder. Trembling within her woven embrace.

-

"Come on, baby." Vella huffed under her breath. Firing arrow after arrow into Corypheus. Watching her love slam into him with the last of his strength. Shield braced under the hail of red beamed death. "Come on, come on."

She threw a barrage of daggers to get him off of Thom, Dorian flanking behind her to unleash his own hellfire. Bull rushing past to cleave into Corypheus' calf.

The monstrosity cried out in rage as he fell to a kneel. Vella ran forward, seeing her target through a tunnel of spectral vision. Dagger poised along her forearm.

Thom raised his shield for her and she leapt off of it into a drive of her dagger. Screaming from deep in her gut as the blade speared through his throat.

Corypheus' breath cut as he stared shock into her. The orb pulsed with power as he still tried to wrestle it into his command.

Rage untethered flowed through her, this death a culmination of everything she had suffered. Screaming in holy rage again, she bore over him. Pulling her dagger from his throat and ripping her teeth into the putrid flesh. Blood smeared in the cavern of her mouth. Teeth rending flesh.

The orb flew to her hand, raised high above her head. A deafening beam of power flew to the heavens from it. Shaking the earth below her as she tore away his throat.

As he fell limp, she released him to the Fade as she spat blood. The orb shattered above her in the same breath. Sky shuddered closed. Earth pulverized around her.

Thom's shield came over her body as the castle crumbled around them. Dragging her to a run as it all fell away.

She blinked the dust out of her eyes, coughing through debris in the air. Taking fearful count of her companions. Letting out a deep breath of relief when she found them all whole.

Far into the battlefield, Solas stepped forward. Reaching out a tentative hand as he fell to a kneel.

Vella stared in confusion as she rushed toward him.

"Solas, what are you doing he-"

His gentle cupping of the remnants of the orb paused her. His body leaned in a bow of mourning.

"The orb..." He hushed, shaking his head.

"Solas..." She reached for his shoulder, but he stood. Leaving the pieces to the earth. "I'm so sorry."

She understood the loss of elvhen artifacts. The gouge they left in the already ragged tapestry of their people. But, somehow, this felt beyond that.

He tried to pull from her hand, but she ducked around his front and pulled him into a tight hug.

His breath stilled in his chest, arms held out uncertainly. But they wove around her after a moment. His head tucked into her shoulder.

They stayed entwined there. His hands grasped her back as he pulled away. Eyes swimming in sorrow.

"No matter what comes," He looked down at her. Stepping away with eyes locked on her face. "I want you to know you will always have me."

"Solas, wait-"

"Vella!"

She turned at Thom's frightened call at her absence.

"Here!" She called in return. "I'm here!"

When she turned Solas was gone.

-

Vella stared up at his unfinished fresco, wiping a tear with agitated fingers.

"Hey." Thom's kiss on her shoulder greeted ahead of him.

"Hey." She smiled sadly. Leaning back into his chest as his arms snaked around her waist.

"Men I care about really have a bad habit, huh?" She looked back up at the gouge he had left. "Dissappearing."

"I'm sorry, dove. On both of our accounts."

"I hope he's okay." She sighed. "I just want him happy and safe, no matter what."

Something shuddered inside her chest, drawing her eyes down in shock. Jolting her breath to a still.

"Vella?" Thom came around her front. Searching her with frantic eyes.

"I'm okay, I think." She pressed a hand to her sternum. "It's the ancestors. They just spoke... sorrow? They've never given me only a feeling before."

No, this felt beyond them. Something larger. Full under her heart.

"Solas...?" She whispered, but the feeling fell away again.

"Fucking well..." Thom sighed, shaking his head ruefully at her. "Come on, love. We're almost packed."

"Oh shit, I've still got to say goodbye to everyone!" She paused their stride to take a paintbrush from Solas' desk. Slipping it into her pocket.

"I hate that you're leaving." Josephine sighed. "I mean, I'm happy for you! Happy for you both. But I still hate it."

"I'm going to miss you too." Vella smiled. "And I won't be gone. We'll be in, I'm sure, constant communication as I 'rule' from the sidelines." She curled her fingers at the word. The gold bracelet with an enchanted stone caught the light. "Dorian made us these special afterall."

Josephine slid her matching ring around her finger. "I know. Leliana and Cullen have theirs, too. But it won't be the same. You're such a calming presence. I don't know how many spats you can settle from the Free Marches."

"You'll do great." Vella cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead. "You'll all do great."

"Where are you going first?" Josephine urged. "I'll have Leliana send scouts to assure your arrival."

"Honestly, I have no idea." Vella smiled brilliantly. "Isn't that great? I'm not leading for once!"

"We're tracking down one of my men on the road towards Ostwick." Thom offered over her shoulder as he came up behind.

"Oooh, I'm good at tracking." She smiled.

"The best." Thom agreed, sliding his hand around her waist. "That's why I hired you."

"I hope I can earn my pay." Vella purred.

"Ugh, enough." Josephine laughed. "Get out, both of you."

Vella pulled her into a hug, and Josephine sighed into her shoulder.

"Call on me if you need me." Vella assured as they separated. Both her and Thom turned. "I'll find my way back, no matter what."

"Wait!"

Sera ran out of the castle door. Leaping into a hug on Thom's chest.

"You're staying! We've talked about this!" He laughed heartily. Hugging her tightly to him.

As Sera blubbered goodbyes into him, Dorian's hand came to Vella's shoulder. Nodding his own tearful goodbye on the road towards Tevinter.

She kissed both of his cheeks and wiped his tears.

"Don't be a stranger." He sighed.

"Never." She chastised. "You can't, either." She held up the bracelet again.

"Right. We're connected now." He sighed in mock weariness.

"Ha-ha! You have to be my friend!" She teased.

"Be safe." He pulled her into a deep hug. "Don't die, okay?"

"Love you." She murmured into his shoulder.

"Love you, too." He warbled. Wiping his eyes again as he pulled away. "Ugh! Go on. Get."

"That's the goodbye I was looking for." She smiled. Hopping up onto Ghilana behind Thom. "Good riddance, all of you."

"Hope your trip is terrible." Josephine laughed.

"Hope Skyhold falls into the canyon!" Vella agreed in a call. Smiling wide at her retreating friends.

She wrapped tight around Thom's waist and leaned her head into his wide back. Letting out a long-held sigh. Finally, moving forward in the quiet of two bodies. The earth awakening with the damp of spring around them.

Despite everything, daffodils had bloomed.

~

~

~

okay this is the end! unless ya'll want some Trespasser chapters 👀 (but I just started it irl, no spoilers!) genuinely thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone following this story with me! mwah! mwah I say!!! ❤️

[cosmiccrushes]

Truth & Lies

Solas x Lavellan

1k words

I'm obsessed with the idea of Solas watching lavellan in her dreams, like ugh, the s u f f e r i n g

-------

He knows she dreams of this cove and its soft green meadows often. For he waits in its shadows for her return. Beckoning her to walk in this place where they once stood together. Where he had looked upon the markings on her face and told her what it meant, lying about how he knew. Meaning to tell her a different truth and lying to himself about why he could not.

So much lying. And still too much truth. 

Solas had a plan. He really did. It was with painful, teeth gritting stubbornness that he had forced himself to maintain that plan when Corypheus fell and the Breach was sealed. He had left her. She was a threat to his plans. Lie. What she made him feel, that was the real threat. Truth. 

The people needed him still. He could not let one Dalish elf change that. No matter how beautiful he found her piercing green eyes. No matter how his heart squeezed at her openness and curiosity. No matter how he felt his beliefs waver in her presence when she spoke with such passion and protectiveness for this world and those in it. No matter the pride she held towards her Dalish kin. She did not really know what could be, what had been. 

Solas knew what must be done. Knew it every time he let his lips press to hers. Still he had held on. She had made it so hard to let go. Her wanting of him made him yearn. He wished he could simply be an outcast- just an elf who saw the world differently with no real power to do anything about it. But he was not that elf. He was power and potential. The Dread Wolf. He Who Hunts Alone. A false god of betrayal and rebellion. His rebellion was not yet over. Nor it seemed, was his betrayal. 

He knew her learning his truth would hurt. What he had not been prepared for was the doubt that crept in like a fog settling over his eyes, clouding his vision forward. Looking into her eyes, clear and bright with unshed tears, as he finally gave her the truth of who she shared her heart with…it had not just been painful for him- it had felt wrong. 

She had pleaded with him. “Var lath vir suledin!” Our love will endure. His reply, “I wish it could, vhenan.” He really did. But he knew in that moment- when his arms ached to hold her and his weary bones longed to lay with her and forget his responsibilities- their love could not endure. He must rip her out of his heart or rip his whole heart out of him if she could not be removed from it as he feared. He could not afford to feel doubt for what must be done. He could not allow these feelings for her to continue and plague his mind with wrongness for what comes next. 

So he had turned away from her. Taking a last kiss and then her arm, because even in his conviction that she was a threat to his plans, he could not bear to see her suffer. The anchor was killing her and the thought of her dead burned like fire inside his veins. Nevermind that when he was through with his objective, she might be dead anyway. No, his jaw hardened at that thought. She would survive. She had to survive. The new world would need people like her.

He needed her.

But no, that thought was forbidden now- a dark magic he did not dare to wield. A truth he must bury away under a mountain of lies.

She would live- and when he was done she would see- this way was better, this was setting the world right.

Those first months after they parted had been hard, but not impossible he found. He could force himself not to think of her and it worked. Until it didn’t. Until he lay awake at night, thinking of a different bed and a midnight when he didn’t feel so terribly alone. 

The first time she appeared to him in his Fade-dreamed version of their cove, he had not considered how dangerous it was for him to visit this once shared space. Coming here, he had allowed himself to once more indulge in his selfishness, indulge in the memory of what another world could have been like. One where she existed as more than the ghost of fingerprints on his skin. 

Had her name, whispered into his dreams, led her here? Had she brought herself? She had been resolute at their parting that she would not give up on him. So he had been resolute in giving up on her. I would not have you see what I become, he had told her. Truth.

But here she was- haunting his dreams.

He had reacted quickly, hiding himself away before she noticed his presence fully. Then he watched. He knew he should not, but he did anyway. A man dying of thirst, now drowning in an ocean. After that first night, he welcomed the flood. Soaked in its waters. If he could not cast her out of his heart, he could at least contain her in this cove of fantasy and possibility. The him who existed on these shores need not exist elsewhere. He could look upon his heart- know she was safe and far away from the Dread Wolf and the Din'anshiral he walked. 

So yes, he knows she dreams of this meadow often. Knows she has caught glimpses of him. Knows that if he seeks her out as he walks the Fade, she will find him. Knows that she searches for him. Knows that he should not encourage it. Lies to himself that it is okay like this, that he can be okay like this, watching her from afar. 

Var lath vir suledin.

At least this is the lie he allows himself to believe when he slips into dreaming at night, imagining a weight pressed to his chest and his arms winding around the greatest truth he has ever known. 

I wish it could, vhenan. Truth. 

My love…I will never forget you. Truth.

So much lying. And still too much truth. 

[hanalghilan]

Ar lasa mala revas. You are free.

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solas x f!Lavellan

Rating: T

AO3

say that you will

It is a long way back to Skyhold and she knows she should give him space. But it’s so damn hard to convince herself this is the end. A day ago he was in her arms at dawn. A day ago he had held her hand and said I love you just before noon. A day ago and he had said she was a distraction at sunset.

Is that all it takes to return to strangers? A single day?

What changed?

She would’ve done a million things differently had she known. Traded in a meal just to stroke her knuckles against his jawline. Skipped that war meeting to lay in bed with him for that extra hour. Foregone a night of wicked grace to gaze at the stars, his whispered stories in her ear while he holds her tight.

And yet, maybe everything would’ve played out the same, exactly as it should have.

But what if it hadn’t?

Together they travel in silence, her arms wrapped around his waist upon her hart. Her fingers barely ghost the solid form of him, afraid to be too much when it’s not enough. But he holds her arm against his body tighter, reins in his hands and she knows he doesn’t want what he’s done either.

It’s raining. But the barrier he casts above their heads keeps her hair dry. And she knows if he were alone, he’d let the world dump on him, drenching him to the bone. He does this for her, even still.

The words unspoken form a wall between them but she can hear his heart beat as she rests her head on his back, staining his tunic with tears.

He had offered to walk back to Skyhold, knowing full well the hurt he caused would be unbearable, but she couldn’t bring herself to let that happen. It wasn’t his fault. All along he’d told her about his hesitancy in the relationship. Made his intentions quite clear.

He had said, “It could lead to trouble.”

She’d known this end was a possibility and the most likely outcome. She understood that time was the stipulation and she had agreed to the terms. If only it wasn’t so short-lived.

Stealing kisses and affection from him where she could was something she’d welcomed and treasured. Still, she just wished she’d had some warning so she could’ve stayed in his arms just a little longer. Tasted his lips just once more. Heard him call her Vhenan and mean it. After all, Corypheus wasn’t defeated. He didn't need to destroy what they had. Didn’t need to bury her in ruins.

Why did it have to be so sudden?

Maybe that’s the real reason she wanted him to ride with her. To hold him one last time. To say her silent and broken goodbyes. To memorize the curve of his body against her own and cement what they had as real. Her motivations for this situation were dubious at best but just because he could switch himself off with a sentence or two didn’t mean she was capable of the same.

He asks too much.

“We should stop and make camp,” he says. His formal tone with her jarring and foreign. But he sniffles, softly, almost inaudible.

“Oh, al-alright.” She sniffs too and wipes her face with the back of her hand.

She wonders if she should be angry. Any other sane person would be. But it’s hard to be angry at him when he rubs at his eyes, smearing his own tears with his thumb, trying to hide his own pain from her.

Solas doesn’t offer his hand to help her down like he used to. Doesn’t smile either. Or even spare a glance in her direction. Instead, he stiffly begins unstrapping their supplies from the hart and begins setting up a makeshift camp.

Sarya shuffles alongside him, doing her part to help and move the process along quickly. The sun sinks below the ombré blanketed horizon and the stars take its place as they pull down the blackened curtain. She piles the last of the kindling and lights a fire, then sits on the ground and stares into the flames.

Solas passes her some sandwiches left over from their romantic picnic and each bite she takes makes her nauseous. The bread tastes of despair and smells of heartache. She sets the half eaten sandwich aside, curling her arms around herself and watches the bats flit around in the trees above them. She studies them and wishes she could transform into a bat and fly away right about now. Oh to be a shapeshifter.

“You should eat,” Solas says.

Sarya slowly turns toward him and glares, unfurling herself. She snatches up the sandwich, stands, then winds up and hurls the sandwich as hard as she can into the darkness. Wiping the crumbs off on her leggings, she returns to her sitting position and continues to glare at him.

It earns her a sigh.

“No. You don’t get to do that,” she says.

“Do what exactly?”

“You don’t get to be exasperated with me.”

“You are angry.”

“I am—no.” She shakes her head, a few curls springing loose around her face. Hurt. Confused. Empty. “I have lost my appetite because I am in emotional pain. But not angry—maybe bitter. Spiteful even.”

“It is understandable for you to feel that way.”

“Solas, please. Don’t.” She yanks up a handful of grass and starts shredding it to pieces. “I can’t do this. Talking to you like this. Like what we were, never happened? Like you aren’t the source of all of—this.” She throws her hands up and then wraps her arms around her legs again.

Like he’s a friend who can offer advice and help her heal after hurt.

“This is not easy for me either.”

“Then why do it? Why not wait?”

“Would it make any difference?”

Sarya rubs at her forehead. She can feel the tears coming again but she swallows them back. “Well no. But,” she picks up a lonesome stick and begins to snap it, shredding it into saddened splinters, “can we just—can we just have this one last night?”

She can’t bear to look at him but she hears his sigh. It sounds so heavy and she doesn’t understand it because he won’t let her.

“Please,” she says again between the cricket chirps. “Let me in just one last time. Then we can move on. Promise.”

She sees his fingers tapping against his knee. Long fingers that spent countless nights intertwined with hers. Long, perfect fingers that danced in the air when he was passionate. That have comforted her during nightmares. Healed wounds and left no scars. Elicited pleasure she never experienced before. And now tap, tap, tap against a knee, never to grace her skin again.

“Sar–Inquisitor, it would be easier for the both of us if we refrained. I am sorry.”

No, she will have none of that Inquisitor shit.

She chucks the remainder of the stick behind her and is up on her feet. She marches over to him, fingers clutching his collar as she studies his stupidly sad face. He can’t even look her in the eye. But gods, if she doesn’t still love him. She bends down, fist in his collar and hand cupping his chin as she pulls him into a final, wild, and desperate kiss. He doesn’t move the rest of his body but his lips find their way to her easily enough. When she releases him, he reaches for her, hungrier than ever before.

“We shouldn’t,” he breathes.

“We aren’t,” she replies. And his hands are threaded through her hair and salt is on her lips.

Artwork here

[dreadfutures]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Thanks, Brood!

I just want to say it's been really awesome to see everyone's self recs on my dash. <3 I feel like just a few years ago there was way more self-negging around all of us and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy when my friends and mutuals and acquaintances are proud of their hard work and creativity! I will be sure to spread that around in more inboxes too :)

My own five favorite fics that I've written are:

it ends, or it doesn't | A Felassan Fic written by youworeblue / @dreadfutures | illustrated by @adurna0-art Rating: T | Genre: Mystery | Length: 45k, complete

My favorite story I've written so far. Dragon Age with a Knives Out flavor. I can't give it a better pitch than @anneapocalypse did here, particularly: "Both a thrilling and tightly-paced murder mystery, and a moving and thoughtful piece about personal and cultural identity, confronting the past, and looking to the future." (Thanks, Anne 😭)

Chrysalid Rated: G | Cillian & Solas | Chapters: 9/9

An origin story for how Cillian, the DAI MP character who appears in like, maybe 2 war table missions, learned the path of the Arcane Warrior. A love letter to the monarch butterfly migration.

Death is an Open Door Rated: T | Male Mahariel & Nonbinary Mahariel | Length: 8k

Mahariel steps through an eluvian to begin the journey we hear about in passing during DAI. This was a gift for @ammoniteflesh about both of our Mahariels and how they are mirrors of each other.

the road seems too wild for mixing it with blues Rated: G | F!Lavellan x Solas | Length: 5k

Pure fluff, a happy ending for Lavellan and Solas in a world they're committed to improving together, on the ground, one interaction at a time. But in this fic? They just get to enjoy that world, together, without any pressures upon them.

And I debated whether to put Walkers of the Lonely Path or Comrades in Arms, Brothers in Broken Chains, or…my other favorites on this list... but DPDF is definitely in my top favorite fics I've written, so:

Dead Pasts and Dread Futures Rated: E | FLavellan x Solas, Gen | Length: 600k (incl. TBG: 900k, ongoing)

As the world ends, Ixchel is resurrected under mysterious circumstances and is sent back in time to the Conclave. Ixchel is furious, convinced of her own futility, and yet she cannot give up again. These are the stories of how she gets better.

more rambling about each of these...

it ends, or it doesn't | A Felassan Fic Stories about looking at the past (your own, in general, or in one's culture) and grappling with the good and the bad and trying to find the merit, strength, and identiy that resonates with you? They're my favorite to read, personally, and those themes find their way into most things I write. I feel like I really Did It in this one. And the inspiration for the story had me warm and fuzzy the whole way through: he environments had me looking at photos of the golden hills of my home as well as some of my favorite castles and temples across the world. I love writing a broken Felassan and his relationship to the ancient elves and to modern elves of all flavors. And the process of writing this in my own way and going back and forth with my artist partner for the fic was wonderful.

Chrysalid Cillian discovered the path of the Arcane Warrior by meditating in ruins; when the Breach appeared in the sky, he felt called to lend his skills to the fledgling Inquisition. That’s all we know of his path, as a background NPC in Dragon Age: Inquisition, who appears solely in a war table mission and in the Multiplayer addition. But how did he really get trained as an Arcane Warrior? Honestly. This was Divine Inspiration at its finest. It was summer; I was missing my college town, where monarch butterflies go as a colony on their migration, stopping there to rest. I kept seeing a few of them flying by my current location on their way south. And I had the whimsical thought: isn’t that magical? Then I thought: sure, magical butterflies would work for a story. But what do they lead to? I loved the experience of writing this, I love the idea I had, I love rereading it, and closing my eyes and thinking about the locations.

Death is an Open Door I was so excited to get matched with Faust for our fanfic server's annual OC Swap event, because any time I heard about Ghila Mahariel, I couldn't help but IMMEDIATELY think about how our Mahariels would interact together. Their relationships to Morrigan and Kieran; their different relationships to their Blighted blood and what the future holds for them; their different relationships to the Dalish religion; their different relationships to the possibility of a cure for the Blight. I really got a chance to dig into the dreamy, fairy tale quality that I love to write the most, AND both body and psychological horror which I also love. AND I got to write an actual Dalish fairy tale, basically, inside it all, which is some of my favorite stuff to write. And Faust liked it, and it always makes me feel so happy and warm and fuzzy to reread a fic where I know I managed to make someone (via their OC) feel seen/special in any way at all.

the road seems too wild for mixing it with blues PURE SELF INDULGENT FLUFF. I love building cities and cultures within them, and I was trying to capture a specific kind of summer getaway/stranger in a new place vibe that I love so much when I get to experience it myself. It transports me right to that: to the place I based Cumberland on, to the exact temperature of the nights, to the exact cafe that has that drink and those donuts. I smiled a lot while writing it and I smile a lot while rereading it. Appreciating each other, and every moment of living, and the world that they get to be in - that's what I want, in the end, for Ixchel and Solas.

Dead Pasts and Dread Futures People are probably really tired of hearing me talk about this one, and I feel the most self conscious about it, but. It really is one of my favorite things I've made. I genuinely love rereading it, I have loved writing it, I still love writing it. I think it comes across more shippy when it gets talked about but to me the core of it is Ixchel's relationship to hope, her own personhood, and to her friends (originally there were so many more & pairings before the tag limit was a thing, because man. They all have pretty big arcs with her) (like to the point where sometimes I feel bad for not being More Overwhelmingly Solavellan, as opposed to spending like 20 chapters at a time on Ixchel's relationship to a single other person, which it feels like I do a lot…). I started writing it as an outlet for feelings I couldn't contain or, what I thought at the time, survive. I was trying to tell myself a story that things could get better, at a time when I didn't really believe it myself. Hope is a choice. Belief is a state of being. - And I had the strength to find neither at the time. But since then I have managed to heal a lot through this fic, I have had lots of fun chasing down story beats that just interest me, incorporating teensy bits of lore and weaving them into the bigger tapestry of Thedas, and most of all, meeting so many people because of this fic. :)

[queenaeducan]

Things I Read & Loved Recently

We Act Like Nobody Dies by lafillechanceuse & theshirallen. Iron Bull x F!Cadash. Rated M. No warnings apply.

The Iron Bull has one mission and one mission only -- to get closer to the so-called Herald of Andraste and observe the situation known as the Inquisition. Cadri Cadash, a former Carta enforcer, is determined to get in his way.

A companion of sorts to Var Shiral'vhen (set at the same time and featuring many of the same OCs). The first chapter was a delightful look into the dynamic of the Chargers and Cadri Cadash's motivations as a companion to Thora.

I hear the river say your name (I watch the birds fly by) by rosella-writes. Morrigan x F!Amell. Rated M. No warnings apply.

Morrigan teaches Eilonwy Amell to shapeshift.

Beautiful writing from Ro, who as always captures the appeal of any pairing they write. The descriptions of shapeshifting are so tender and evocative of the inspiration for the fic, and the relationship between Eilonwy and Morrigan is fascinating to read.

Four Men and a Baby by kuroashi. Solas x M!Lavellan. Rated M. Graphic depictions of violence.

A chance discovery of a massacre in the Dales leads to another chance discovery: its sole survivor. Inquisitor Lavellan and his companions find themselves transporting precious cargo--and learning a few things about themselves in the process.

I loved the details in this fic, the process of discovery (terrible and delightful) and the worldbuilding was interesting to read about through Kynaren's eyes.

DA4 Spoilers. these violent delights by inquisimer. Zevran x F!Tabris, Zevran & Lucanis, Lucanis & F!Tabris. Rated T. No warnings apply.

When Lucanis decides to leave the Crows, he looks outside the guild for the help he needs to pull it off—and survive.

A fun little romp full of rogues doing what rogues do best. There was a lot to love here, but I adored seeing an established Zevwarden pairing through Lucanis's eyes. I'm a Lucanis fan now thanks to Mer.

Death is an Open Door by youworeblue. M!Mahariel & Non-binary!Mahariel. Rated T. Graphic depictions of violence.

Old Wardens told tales of long-gone companions and how they knew it was time to go. When hair thinned and nails grew sharp; when bone spurs sprouted or muscles began to hunch; when the eyes grew milky and the veins grew dark, and the light of the sun burned like the Maker’s wrath… that was when a Warden was a Warden no longer. Mahariel had never known old Wardens. Mahariel traveled at night.

A haunting fairy tale-esque journey, featuring two Mahariel who are in many ways mirrors of one another. Blue writes the body horror of being a Warden so lovingly, and if you're into feeling sad about elves I'd highly recommend this one!

[rosella-writes]

Kinktober 10.4: Stockings

Pairing: Valor x Pride (f!Solas x Virelan Lavellan) Rating: E Words: 326 Content: femme Solas, oral on a transfem character (On AO3)

Valor took her time baring Pride’s swathes of pale skin. 

Mythal’s Champion was the Pride of Elvhenan — she looked every inch the part. If she was not garbed in spirit-silks and lace, she was girded with the metallic fruit of June’s own craftsmanship. 

But beneath it all, Pride always wore a reminder of her heart. 

Alone, in the safety of Pride’s underwater rooms, Valor reduced Pride to Desire. She hastily unfastened buckles, unhooked breastplates, loosed gauntlets and pauldrons. She kissed the slivers of femininity that revealed themselves under the armour — the black lace, most of all, was her favourite. 

Pride simply sat back in her chair, letting the final bits of metal fall, and watched. 

Valor pulled at laces and garters. She bared Pride’s chest and left bitten kisses on each inch of skin she revealed. She knelt between Pride’s spread legs, removing one boot, then the other. 

When Pride sat, dressed only in the sheer hose that Valor so loved, Valor stopped — she smoothed her hands up and down the span of Pride’s long legs, pausing at the hem of the stockings at Pride’s upper thighs. Pride’s freed cock hardened between them at the touch. 

“Lay back for me, love,” Valor commanded. “A reward, hmm, for your bravery?”

“Bravery?” Pride chuckled, but obeyed. Her lanky body spread in her chair, lax in its anticipation. “I stood guard for Mythal as a show of strength, not because she needed me.”

Valor slowly shook her head, gently grasping at Pride’s length. She brought it to her pursed lips and kissed the tip, relishing how Pride’s head fell on the upper rung of the chair’s back. Her hair streamed down in loose auburn waves to the floor. 

“I don’t care,” she said, then mouthed wetly at Pride’s cock. “It is brave to me.”

Her love moaned, the sound of it somehow both lazy and heady with want. Pride rolled her hips forward, searching for more of Valor’s mouth.

[vir-tanadahl]

As the Moon Rises

Chapter 5: The Colors of the Veil

I’m eagerly rewriting As the Moon Rises, which was originally written back in 2017, in anticipation of Dragon Age: Veilguard, channeling my excitement into refining the story. Summary: Isera Lavellan, at her mother’s behest, is sent to assist her twin brother, Banreas—the Inquisitor—in his mission to stop a force determined to bring about the world’s end. Together, they uncover long-buried secrets of their shared family history while Isera finds herself drawn to a mysterious non-Dalish elven mage whose knowledge of her heritage runs far deeper than she could have imagined. As the stakes rise, Isera must navigate this dangerous journey of discovery, where the past holds as much peril as the looming threats of the present. Solas x F!Lavellan.

[Ch1] [Ch2] [Ch3] [Ch4] [Ch5]

Skyhold was bustling in the weeks following their success at Adamant, the morale among the Inquisition at an all-time high. Yet, Isera remained mostly in her tower, harboring feelings of bitterness and anger. While she diligently assisted those who came to the healing center, she rarely ventured out unless absolutely needed. The lively celebrations felt distant to her, overshadowed by her internal struggles as she grappled with the complexities of her newfound abilities and her place within the group.

Banreas was too busy to visit her, consumed by the fallout of conscripting the Wardens. Nobles from both Ferelden and Orlais protested the decision, their fears of Corypheus's influence on the Grey Wardens echoing throughout the halls of Skyhold. Yet, Banreas remained steadfast in his choice, resolute in his belief that they needed the strength and experience of the Wardens to face the looming threats. Isera could sense his determination, even from a distance, but it did little to ease the bitterness that churned within her.

He shared that his decision was rooted in history—the Fifth Blight had begun in Ferelden, a country that had banned the Grey Wardens years prior and only allowed their return months before the Blight truly struck. Banreas emphasized the importance of learning from past mistakes, arguing that their unity was essential in the face of impending danger. Despite the protests from nobles, he was determined to ensure that the Wardens had a place in their fight against Corypheus, believing that their experience could make all the difference.

He had argued that, for the sake of safety regarding future Blights, banning the Wardens from Orlais could lead to long-term consequences once this fight was over. At least, that was what she overheard from the soldiers during their stops at the clinic. Whispers of his reasoning circulated among the ranks, and while some agreed with his perspective, others remained skeptical, the tension palpable as they discussed the implications of such a decision.

There was always dissent to be had, however. Additionally, rumors circulated that the Inquisition would be invited to the Winter Palace. This was a critical moment to demonstrate that the Inquisition held not only power in numbers but also significant influence. As whispers of their upcoming presence at the palace spread, Isera could sense the gravity of the situation, knowing that this opportunity could shape their future in the political landscape of Thedas.

Isera was surprised when Solas entered the clinic, his presence a soft disturbance in the otherwise quiet space. She lay on the second level, still in bed, listening as he moved around below her. The sound of glasses clinking together filled the air as he picked them up and set them down, a rhythmic melody that echoed softly against the walls. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing, a mix of curiosity and intrigue sparking within her as she listened.

He called up to her, but when he received no response, he slowly made his way up the stairs. Each creak of the steps resonated in the quiet space, causing Isera’s body to stiffen with anxiety. The sound seemed to amplify her unease, heightening her awareness of his approach as she braced herself for their impending conversation.

Isera pulled the blankets over her head, hoping to successfully hide the disheveled mess of her bed and make it seem as if she wasn’t there at all. She knew she should feel embarrassed or ashamed; it was well into the afternoon. Yet, an unsettling emptiness enveloped her instead. She didn’t feel anything—not the shame she expected, nor the embarrassment of being caught in such a state.

“I can see the blankets moving,” Solas called, a hint of amusement lacing his voice. Isera felt a flush of embarrassment creep in despite her earlier numbness. She held her breath, hoping he would simply leave her be, but the teasing nature of his words left her no choice but to confront the reality of being discovered.

“It’s a ghost,” Isera replied, her voice hoarse from disuse. The playful deflection served as a shield against her embarrassment, a small attempt to lighten the mood despite her earlier discomfort. “Clearly there is a solid form,” Solas replied, his tone amused but steady. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“No, just a shell it seems,” Isera replied, feeling exposed as the blankets were suddenly pulled from her face. Solas stared at her, his expression unreadable, leaving her unsure whether it was pity or indifference. “You’re upset,” he stated, the softness in his voice betraying a concern that clashed with his earlier teasing.

“No. Being upset implies feeling. I’m not feeling anything,” Isera replied, her voice steady but hollow. The admission hung in the air between them, a stark acknowledgment of her emotional numbness. She met Solas’s gaze, hoping to convey the depth of her disconnect, even as the chaos of the outside world pressed in around them.

He sighed loudly, a mix of frustration and empathy in his voice. “You are upset because you experienced something you thought would no longer bother you. Yet, you had a taste of it only to have it cruelly taken away.” His words resonated in the quiet space, laying bare the reality of her feelings and the pain of loss that lingered beneath her calm facade.

“Really, do your elven eyes see that?” Isera shot back, her tone laced with sarcasm. She crossed her arms defensively, unwilling to fully confront the vulnerability he was trying to unearth. Despite the jest, a flicker of curiosity about his perspective tugged at her, but she pushed it aside, determined to maintain her bravado.

“Do you always deflect with humor or sarcasm?” Solas bristled at her words, his tone shifting slightly. There was a sharpness to his gaze as he regarded her, an unspoken challenge lingering in the air. Isera felt the heat of his scrutiny, realizing that her defenses might not be enough to mask her true feelings.

“Clearly. It’s a running theme,” she retorted, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. Her tone was sharp, a mix of defiance and humor as she stood her ground. Isera met his gaze with an unwavering look, determined to maintain her armor of sarcasm despite the vulnerability underneath.

“An exhausting one,’”Solas replied, his expression softening slightly as he regarded her. The hint of concern in his voice was unmistakable, as if he understood the weight of her sarcasm. He studied her, contemplating whether she would let her walls down or continue to hide behind her humor.

“Why are you here?” she asked, shifting the topic abruptly, her curiosity overriding her discomfort. She remained unmoving on her bed, a hesitant barrier between her and the world outside. The change in conversation offered her a momentary escape from the vulnerability they had been navigating.

“The Inquisitor is unable to break away from the nobles. Those in the inner circle who have gotten to know you are worried,” he explained, his tone carrying an unexpected sincerity. The weight of his words hung in the air.

“Yes, and why are you here?” Isera pressed, her curiosity piqued despite her earlier reluctance. She regarded him with a mixture of wariness and interest, eager to understand what had drawn him to her in this moment of vulnerability.

He seemed unimpressed with her attitude. “They have requested my assistance,” he replied, a hint of frustration in his voice. His gaze remained steady, undeterred by her deflection, as he made it clear that his presence was not merely a matter of choice but a response to a greater need.

“Well, you assisted. You can leave now,” she said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. The words were light, but there was an underlying sharpness to her tone, a clear indication that she wanted him to respect her space. Isera met his gaze with a challenging look, unwilling to let him linger any longer than necessary.

“I am afraid not,” Solas replied, his expression unyielding. There was a quiet determination in his voice, a refusal to back down in the face of her dismissal. He stepped closer, bridging the gap between them, his presence a reminder that he wouldn’t be easily dismissed. 

Isera let out a loud, whiny noise, exasperation bubbling to the surface. “Let me fall into the void in peace!” she exclaimed, her tone half-joking but laced with genuine weariness. The weight of her emotions pressed down on her, and she longed for the solitude that seemed just out of reach.

“You’re depressed,” Solas stated, his voice steady but tinged with concern. The simplicity of his observation cut through her defenses, forcing Isera to confront the reality she had been trying to avoid. She met his gaze, the weight of his words settling heavily between them.

“Yes, that’s why it’s called the void,” Isera shot back, her tone laced with sarcasm. She leaned back against her pillows, crossing her arms defiantly. The bitterness in her words masked the vulnerability she felt, as she fought to maintain her emotional distance from him."

"Get. Up," Solas demanded, his voice remaining soft yet firm. As he released the magic, it catapulted Isera out of her bed, the force of it startling her. She landed on her feet, slightly disoriented but compelled to meet his gaze, the urgency of his tone cutting through her lethargy.

Isera screamed, her eyes wide with disbelief. ‘Seriously? What if I was naked?’ she exclaimed, the embarrassment flooding her cheeks as she quickly glanced down, instinctively pulling the blankets around her. The suddenness of his command left her reeling, and she shot him a glare, torn between irritation and the remnants of her surprise.

“Then you’d be even more embarrassed,” Solas replied, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. His tone remained calm and steady, but there was an undeniable spark of mischief in his words. Isera couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his teasing, even as she felt the heat of embarrassment linger.

Isera clucked dismissively. “As if. My ass looks great clothed or unclothed.” Solas sighed loudly, clearly unamused, before making his way down into the clinic. Isera glanced at her reflection, noting her matted and flat hair from the lack of care. Quickly, she gathered it into a bun, hoping to create at least the appearance of being put together as she prepared to face the day ahead.

After changing into a clean mage robe, Isera made her way downstairs, her heart racing slightly with anticipation. Solas was still waiting, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable. The air between them felt charged, and she steeled herself for whatever conversation awaited her as she stepped into the clinic.

Solas directed her to follow, and she complied, her heart quickening with each step they took down the stairs and toward the garden. As they walked, Isera's anxiety intensified, the unfamiliarity of the situation gnawing at her. “Where are we going?” she asked, a hint of apprehension creeping into her voice as she glanced up at him.

“You will see,” Solas answered, his expression unmoving as he led her forward. Isera sighed louder than before, a mix of frustration and curiosity bubbling beneath the surface. He guided her into one of the prayer rooms used by members of the Chantry. She wanted to make a remark about the solemnity of the space but restrained herself.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed gently. Isera complied, feeling a mix of anticipation and curiosity. He took her hands, pulling her into the room with a firm yet reassuring grip. “Stand here,” he told her, and she obeyed, sensing the space around her shift. She listened as he stepped back, the quiet settling in. “Open,” he commanded softly.

As Isera opened her eyes, she was greeted by the sight of walls adorned with the enchanted paint she had first seen weeks ago. One side depicted a lush, green forest, with crystals cascading down like glimmering raindrops between the leaves, creating an ethereal atmosphere. The other side showcased the members of the inner circle, their figures painted with intricate detail, each representing a unique aspect of their strength and unity.

“Cole shared that you missed seeing the forest and desired to see what the members of the Inquisition looked like,” Solas told her, standing at a distance and observing her as she moved around the room. Isera took in the vibrant colors and details of the artwork, feeling a sense of wonder wash over her. Each brushstroke seemed to breathe life into the space, inviting her to connect with the essence of her companions.

“I didn’t tell him that,” she whispered, approaching the mural of the inner circle. Her fingers traced the outlines of the painted figures, each one representing a vital piece of their collective strength. “No, Cole… is different. He is a spirit that took the form of a human. As such, he possesses abilities that a spirit does,” Solas explained, his voice steady. He watched her closely, noting the way she absorbed the details of the mural, a mix of curiosity and contemplation on her face.

“That’s why he looks different. He shimmers. He’s not actually human,” she responded, her gaze still captivated by the art before her. The vibrant colors and intricate details drew her in, making her momentarily forget the weight of their conversation. As she studied the mural, she felt a connection to the figures depicted, each representing a part of the Inquisition she was still getting to know.

“It seems that whatever magical effect has caused you to lose what most would consider vision allows you to see magical enchantments elsewhere,” Solas said, his voice soft and thoughtful. “As such, Varric asked me to see about enchanting the words of his books. Will you tell me if it works?”

Isera turned to look at him, her curiosity piqued. He was holding a small leather-bound book in his hand, its cover embossed with intricate designs. Isera felt a flicker of fear at the thought of touching it. She could see the enchantment shimmering between the pages, an alluring dance of light. As she stared at the cover, her eyes began to water, the weight of her emotions swelling as she traced the binding with her fingers.

After a minute, she steeled herself and began to open the book. Instead of the blank, gray pages she expected, she was met with shining black letters that glimmered as if alive. The sight filled her with wonder, each word pulsing with the magic that had transformed the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Hard in Hightown by Varric Tethras

Chapter One

They say coin never sleeps, but anyone who’s walked the patrol of Hightown Market at midnight might disagree…

Tears rolled down her cheeks as Isera held her breath, desperately trying to contain the wave of emotions threatening to burst forth. As she focused on the book, she felt the Veil pressing against her, the familiar sensation that allowed her to perceive things beyond the ordinary. If the Veil could touch it, she could see it.

However, books posed a challenge; the words were flat against the pages, and the Veil couldn’t differentiate between them. It failed to recognize colors unless they possessed magical properties. The Veil moved through gradients of gray, never truly black and never truly white, leaving Isera to navigate a world viewed through a grayscale lens. It was only when she encountered enchanted objects that shimmered with vibrant colors that she felt a glimmer of hope, a reminder of the beauty that lay just beyond her reach.

“Does it…? We can try again,” Solas said, stepping closer and lowering himself to one knee, concern evident in his voice. “Dorian had another idea if this one failed.” He reached for the book, intending to take it from her, but Isera refused to let it go. Her grip tightened as she clung to the book, her tears still falling silently, her determination unyielding. This moment meant more to her than words could express.

“Solas,” she hiccupped, a smile breaking through the tears as she quickly wiped her cheeks dry. “It works. I can see the words.” It was hard for her to speak; her chest felt heavy with a mix of joy and disbelief. “I wasn’t expecting any of this.” She gestured around at the murals, the vibrant art reflecting the magic in the room. “But I can’t read. Not novels.” A soft, pathetic giggle escaped her, the sound both light and tinged with embarrassment as she tried to process the overwhelming experience.

“I was six when I lost my vision. I can read spell books when they are enchanted, runes, and basic sentences to understand spells, but… not this…” Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she spoke, the weight of her limitations settling heavily on her. The contrast between her newfound ability to see the words and her inability to fully engage with them left her feeling frustrated and vulnerable.

She couldn’t look him in the eye; the embarrassment was overwhelming. She felt the heat radiating from her cheeks, a flush of warmth that only intensified her discomfort. As her emotions swirled, she noticed her nose beginning to clog, making it harder to breathe. Isera turned her gaze to the floor, feeling vulnerable under Solas's steady observation.

He moved to sit near her, his presence calm and reassuring. “There is a natural rectification for that. I will enchant more books that you can practice from. There is no reason to be ashamed. You have demonstrated that you are a powerful mage. You have trained your will to control magic and withstand possession. The same indomitable focus used for that can be utilized for this skill.’ His words resonated with passion and conviction, and Isera could see that he genuinely believed in her ability to master this new challenge."

Isera chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. ‘Indomitable focus?’ she echoed, raising an eyebrow. The phrase felt grandiose in the face of her uncertainty, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. Despite her earlier embarrassment, Solas's encouragement stirred something within her—a flicker of hope amidst her doubts.

“Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine that the sight would be… fascinating,” Solas replied, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. The corner of his mouth quirked slightly, as if he found the idea both intriguing and amusing. Isera couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, feeling the tension in the air lighten just a bit.

And for once, Isera had no retort for him, the playful banter slipping away. He offered a slight smirk before beginning to describe each member depicted in the mural, detailing who contributed what to its creation. As he spoke, Isera felt a warmth bloom within her; for the first time in her life, she felt completely included in something she had not expected. The sense of belonging wrapped around her like a comforting cloak, and she listened intently, absorbing every word.