#solavellan fan fiction

[amaryllislavellan]

Need | 590 Words A study in how words feel as they exit the mouth, or maybe over analyzing is just a defense against really feeling what they mean. (Best if the words he's analyzing are said out loud!)

"Need is such a weak willed word. It’s short, callous, and overall falls fast in the mouth as if you’re trying to hide the vulnerability of yourself behind your front teeth. No. I do not need her."

Need is such a weak willed word. It’s short, callous, and overall falls fast in the mouth as if you’re trying to hide the vulnerability of yourself behind your front teeth.

No.

I do not need her.

I could brace myself against the flowery tones and the roll of my tongue when I say desire. The way the breath escapes in an attempt to flourish the thought, extending it out within the room on heated breath and a softly opened mouth. But that too, would be inaccurate.

I can attempt to articulate my feelings into words but none of them resonate with the way my heart bursts when I see her. The gentle moments we spend together that make my blood burn up through my chest and the air escape my lungs without being exhaled. Her smile traps the air there, held in the embrace of her warmth. Instead of searching for an escape I draw in a deep breath that comes out as a tremble and I fight back against my heart, losing my true purpose. My composure.

I-- I don’t need her.

Perhaps I simply want her. But want is a curt word, ending on a pop. It’s a short term proclamation that ends in a puff of air that resides in the forefront of the mouth. It is a word begrudging of neglect once obtained and my body would not do me the courtesy of abandoning her. With fevered fingers I indulge in tangling in her hair by the fistfull, pulling it back until she makes that golden sound. No. Want is far too small a word.

It falls as short in tone as need.

I can’t begin to define what happens when she looks into my eyes with genuine affection. She trusts me and my council, and I shatter. I shatter into thousands of tiny fragments that reflect back the many truths I have withheld to show me who I am. Who I was? No. The deep pools of trust she gives me--- I feed off of them. I drink it in and spill myself in turn, overflowing with greed. I am her reservoir of knowledge, always guarded and protected by the unseen corners of my mind. But, I find myself allowing the real truth to slip through the dam, like tiny cracks and rivulets that condense on the surface. She’s been clever, and attentive, and strong. I both fear and long for her to see the truth I have laid out for her in tiny admissions.

I refuse to think the word that rushes through my pulse. That rolls my shoulders forward with longing when she comes too close. I will not say the word that makes clever use of its consonants. The word that pushes the admission out of my mouth by forcing the tone across my lower lip held back and then permitted across my upper teeth. It betrays me. The movement of my mouth releases the end of the word in a way that almost vaults the confession faster to her ears. It leaves me open and willing to tell her anything.

I want to tell her everything.

I need to fight this feeling with all of who I am; hide my weakness tight in my throat. I have to rebuild these walls she so easily collapsed and make myself again in iron. I have to find the right words that will force this wall to collect between us. But the thought of losing her--- I.

I don’t want to need her.

[vespaer77]

Not sure what day you posted this, but I'm doing the thiiiing as soon as I saw it =)

This is a snippet (a WIPpet? no... no, don't call it that, GenX flashbacks... bad) from my current Solavellan piece. I haven't posted it yet, was hoping to post it as a complete work. I'm planning on 3 chapters and I'm nearly done with ch2. Just got interrupted with holiday travel plans =)

Anyhoops, I hope at least you enjoy, as well as anyone who might stumble past it.

She felt a brief pang of envy for Ameridan. How he could be frozen in time, trapped in his last great battle while centuries passed around him unnoticed, preserved in his purpose, never altered yet never finished. Never forced to figure out how to forge a new life for himself from the ashes left behind. Never begging to bargain back the one he'd sacrificed to become an ideal. An ideal born from a mistake. A sound heard in the night. An orb dropped and then picked up.

Helllloooooo! I know people are maybe tired/busy/unavailable today, so no pressure or anything, but I thought we could all share WIPs today?

Writing, art, whatever you want! (I’m gonna tag DA bc most people are here for that, but feel free to share no matter what you’re working on!)

I’ll post mine in a bit! Rb + add !

No pressure of course— have a great day! ☀️

[elf-trash]

SilverV and Solavellan Fic Recs

It's been a minute, so I wanted to make a new sticky post where I link my own writing and also recommend some of my all-time favorite multi-chapter SilverV and Solavellan fics.

Highly recommend checking all of these out, as well these authors' other work! I swear to god, both of these ships attract the most insanely talented writers on the planet. I am constantly so impressed with and in awe of the stuff I've read!

First off, here are my two main long fics:

SilverV:

The Rebel Path - elf_trash Follows the story of Johnny and V's extremely messy relationship through the game and beyond. It stays close to canon but includes a rewrite of the endings and a fix-it, and also features a Kerry/V romance arc. Very angsty, you've been warned!

Solavellan:

Wildest Dreams - elf_trash A retelling of Veilguard with Lavellan as the protagonist (aka Lavellan IS Rook) that focuses on her complicated relationship with Solas. Starts near the end of Inquisition and continues through Veilguard and slightly beyond. Uses a lot of scrapped ideas from Joplin.

And here are some of my current and all-time favorites from each fandom! I limited myself to three for each ship (so this list is in no way exhaustive), and have listed them below in no particular order.

SilverV:

cut loose (before it gets late) - cherrykiss Literally cannot recommend this one highly enough!!!! Set post-game, Johnny has his body back, but V is still dying. It's about Johnny and V getting together and is wonderfully painful and incredibly fun. Read this one, you will NOT regret it.

Smoke and Retribution - madelinek Another one of my absolute favorites. This one is an AU where V is a popular musician during the same years as Samurai, and she enlists Johnny's help in getting out of her record deal with Arasaka. Fun, heartbreaking, and spicy!

Can You Feel The Sun? - heartofsnark This one follows the story of the game and features a V named Aidan, the author's deaf OC. Top tier Johnny banter and dialogue in this one, and it features a super unique and fleshed out OC if that's your thing!

Solavellan:

Requited - cursedhag A beautifully written, pitch perfect Inquisition rewrite that fully checks all the boxes! Features a lot of excellent Solas' POV that incorporates all the new lore reveals we learned in Veilguard. Do yourself a favor and read this!!!!

miles below the surface of the dawn - thefirstaidkit This fic is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read, period. On its face it's just 6 chapters of "there was only one bed" Inquisition-era Solavellan smut, but I stg the writer was channeling the spirit of Solas Dragon Age himself because it is the most perfect Solavellan smut I can imagine. Read this one, just trust me.

Martyr - existential_naptime If you like Solavellan angst, this one delivers in spades!!! It's set during Veilguard and explores what would happen if the Evanuris kidnapped the Inquisitor (and more specifically, how Solas would react). It is DELICIOUS and also extremely painful but well worth it!

Do yourself a favor and read these you won't regret it!!!

[faded-mage]

Enjoyed making these a bit too much. My "canon compliant" world state for Dragon Age. My AU has it's own set... well, it will once I get to Veilguard in that fic. Don't wanna spoil too many surprises.

Warden Elera Surana Origins Elf, Mage (Arcane Warrior), Alistair

Champion Amerie Hawke 2, aka Fuck Around in Kirkwall Human, Mage (Force Mage), Anders

Inquisitor Avise Lavellan Inquisition Dalish Elf, Mage (Knight Enchanter), Solas Golden Thread Does Not Bind

Mara de Riva, "Rook" Veilguard City Elf, Mage (Spellblade), Lucanis

[kestrelsansjesses]

The Dread Wolf's Chambers

A a room in the Lighthouse that appears and unlocks only once Rook has met the Inquisitor. It adjoins the meditation chamber, directly connected with a door. Though it's small, it contains a great deal that seems directly personal to Solas. There is a small bed, comfortable but with worn sheets. On a mannequin, there hangs a red uniform with blue belt and sash, as well as a hat. Taash can be heard saying "stupid bucket" at least once in reference to it. On the wall, there's a mural painted in a similar style to others throughout the Lighthouse environs, depicting a figure identified as Solas and one that looks remarkably similar to the Inquisitor on what appears to be a balcony, with very little space between them. At the bottom, below the railing of the balcony and painted far smaller, almost difficult to see, is the many-eyed wolf and a white raven. It's theorized the raven may also represent the Inquisitor, or another figure entirely; much has been made of the relationship between wolves and ravens. There is also a small desk and chair, both unremarkable and plain, though the lines suggest an ancient elvhen origin. There is a stack of unsent letters put on the desk. Degradation of ink and paper suggests they span years of writing, and though some attempt has been made to blot out the text entirely, it's possible to see each begins with 'vhenan.' The room also contains a large window perfectly positioned to capture afternoon light.

[trash-druid]

A Healer's Touch

Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Lavellan/Solas Rating: T (but there's an explicit version if folks want that. dm me and I'll share it. I ain't showing my whole ass AO3 account to the world.) AN: This was inspired by a tweet made by @brucoenthusiast. This idea ate at my brain like a parasite so I had to get it out. Note on Elven: I used the DA wiki for my source of translation as well as some other sources that I will list below. Sorry if I messed up.]

The cool winter air snapped at her uncovered ankles as she slipped through the double doors of the Chantry as quietly as she could. Lavellan had grown up in the frigid north of the Free Marshes. She knew the cold well. This did not make her hate it any less.

After hours of strategy planning discussing recruitment and movement of goods around the Hinterlands, Lavellan could no longer ignore the ache in her palm.

The mark had laid mostly dormant since the forming of the Inquisition but she found that as the nights grew colder and her nerves stretched thin, the thrumming pain began to build.

Stepping outside, Haven was totally silent. She wasn’t exactly sure what time it was thanks to the clouds in the sky, but it was late enough for her to know that she’d be unhappy in the morning. Voices echoed quietly behind her. Looking left and right, she made a snap decision. She could not afford getting caught up in more discussion with her advisors, and did not want to concern them with her current dilemma; concealing it all evening had been enough of a pain.

Hurrying left, down the path towards the tavern, a thought occurred. She knew one person who might be able to ease her suffering.

The next thing she knew, she was standing at his door. Lavellan bit her lip and rolled it between her teeth. It was late. Very late. And he was probably just as exhausted as she was. She had, after all, dragged him, Varric and Cassandra around the Hinterlands all day, sealing what rifts they could find and managing one crisis after another.

She raised her fist to the wood but could not bring herself to lower it. Her cheeks grew warm. It had only been a few weeks but she could already tell something was different about Solas. There was a wisdom that she found comforting–he reminded her of home in some ways and then of something completely foreign in others. He was a mystery and her wandering mind could not resist the call of the unknown.

Back at her clan, Lavellan had earned the loving nickname of somniari av'ahn or the questioning dreamer. Even at a young age, she was driven to learn more, dig deeper, seek answers. However, this often led to irresponsible bouts of daydreaming. As her Keeper’s first, she knew that one day the safety of the clan would fall into her hands. It seemed there was always a duty waiting for her. So while she often scolded herself for foolish fantasies of exploring the wilds and the far reaches of the fade, she was kind enough to allow them a place in her heart.

Her clan often grew tired of the constant questions. If the answers to one question were not satisfactory enough, she would find 15 more questions to follow. She had learned, in her 27 years of life, how to restrain her wondering thoughts for the sake of others.

But with Solas, she felt no resistance. He seemed to relish in her quandaries, always happy to expound upon whatever bits of lore she was curious about or hypothesis the inner workings of magic that ruled the fade.

She was growing to like him quite a bit.

She had to remind herself that, at that moment, her focus should be solely on finding allies. On bolstering the Inquisition’s forces so that they may face whatever evils await them.

But for somniari av'ahn, there was always a want she could not ignore.

She signed, a puff of steam filling the air before her as she closed her eyes tight. It’s late, she thought, I wouldn’t-

Before she could finish her thought, the door in front of her, only inches away, swung open. Opening her eyes at the sudden creak of wood, she realized she was staring directly at a bare chest.

“Lethallan?”

Glancing up, she met his blue-green gaze and nearly screamed. She stumbled back a bit, cheeks and ears red and hand pressed to her mouth as she stifled the sound.

Solas looked at her, dressed only from the waist down, as a healer would look upon an unknown ailment; intrigue and surprise.

“Ir abelas (I’m sorry), I didn’t mean to scare you,” he insisted, slightly breathless himself.

The cold air must have finally reached his senses because, as quickly as he opened the door, he swung it shut. “One moment!”

Lavellan stood deathly still, wondering if she should run. Before she could make up her mind, the door opened once again, now revealing a fully clothed elf. Her eyes flashed to his but not before catching a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“I apologize, Herald. I was not expecting anyone at this hour. I thought I heard someone at the door and-” he stopped himself, his gaze shifting to her clenched fist, now emanating a small amount of crackling green light. “The mark,” he stepped forward, reaching towards her and taking her hand in his. “This looks painful. Come inside. I believe I can sooth it.”

He did not release her hand as he led her inside. Lavellan followed obediently, immediately trying to catalogue every detail of his bedroom.

The cabin was small and bare. Only a few sets of clothes hung in the wardrobe and his staff rest against the desk in the corner. Atop it, a several notebooks lay scattered.

There was very little information to be gained here, she realized. No clues to solve the mystery. He led her to a lone chair sat beside the foot of the bed, near the fire that had burned down to orange coals. Turning it towards the bed, he ushered her to sit and then took a seat across from her on his bed, immediately taking to the task of examining her.

“How long has it been bothering you, Herald?”

She sighed, “please don’t call me that.”

His eyes peaked back up to hers, “What would prefer I call you then?”

Call me whatever you’d like, just don’t stop speaking to me until I’m drunk off your voice.

“Lavellan is fine,” she dragged her eyes away from his, back down to her palm.

Solas noticed the deep indents surrounding the mark. “Were you clenching your fist for very long?”

“Oh, just the amount of time a meeting with Cullen, Josephine, Cassandra and Liliana would take.”

He blanched at her, eyebrows raised, “I am surprised you did not break the skin.”

She chuckled softly, and noticed a small smile upon his lips.

He held her hand palm up, both of his hands below her as his fingers traced the crack down the center. “Does this cause you any pain?”

“No,” she hummed, “it actually feels quite nice.”

Lavellan bit down on her lip once more; a reminder that she needed to stay focused. But she eased up on her self inflicted punishment the moment she noticed the tips of Solas’s ears grow pink.

“Is there anything that has caused it to ache? More so than before?”

She tilted her head, eyes wandering the thatched roof above, full of holes and leaks (she would need to mention this to the quartermaster). “It’s been getting worse little by little, but I find that when it’s been a particularly long day, it aches more.”

He pulled his hands away from her, standing. She immediately missed the feeling of his warm skin against hers as the winter chill that he had let in nipped at her fingers. He quickly grabbed one of his notebooks from his desk and sat back down across from her, scribbling. “That is interesting,” he said softly, flipping between pages.

“What’s interesting?” she asked, a spike of anxiety in her tone.

He turned back to her, lips slightly parted, and smirked. “Nothing to be concerned with, Her-” he paused, smiling still, “Lavellan. I am simply surprised how much the skin around the mark has healed. When you first arrived in my care, it was not as slightly as it is now.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Solas, how long was I out?”

He rocked back turning his chin to the sky. “I would estimate… eight, nine hours?”

“And you were with me the entire time?”

He nodded, placing his pencil between the pages of his notebook and closing it up. “I feared that if I did not do my duty, they would have dragged me away along with all the other apostates.”

Shifting slightly on the threadbare linens and rough wollen blanket on his bed, Solas re-positioned himself so that he could hold Lavellan’s hand in his lap. One hand hovered above hers and a soft green light began to glow between them.

“I wouldn’t have let them do that,” she mumbled, her gaze fixed on the threads of magic being woven before her.

“You were considered guilty of murdering the Divine at the time. I doubt they would have listened to you.”

“I can be rather persuasive,” she said, shrugging.

He lifted his eyes to peak at her quickly, something she only caught for just a moment. “Is that so?”

Soon, the built up ache in her palm began to ease. She released a heavy sigh as each twist of his fingers seemed to bring a new wave of relief.

“Do not let it get this bad again, lethallan. If it begins to pain you, I ask that you come to me immediately.” He continued to shift his fingers ever so slightly, weaving the magic around her and using it to sooth whatever chaos the mark was causing.

She felt her ears twitch as a shock ran through her. Hearing him call her lethallan should not have excited her so much. She was one of the people. But the way he said it made it sound like she was one of his people.

“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Lavellan asked, shifting slightly so that their knees barely brushed against each other.

“I doubt anyone has ever seen anything like this. Ancient elvhen artifacts don’t often fall into the hands of those who do not know how to wield them. To my understanding, what happened to you at the Conclave should have torn your body asunder.”

Nodding, she chuckled. “I suppose the occational ache doesn’t seem so bad, then.”

As his focus seemed to sharpen, so too did the magic he wielded. The roiling burn of the mark had quieted to a dull hum, then vanished altogether. Finishing, his shoulders slouched slightly. “That should ward off the pain. For now, at least.”

Lavellan drew her hand towards her and used her thumb to inspect the scar. The ache had vanished completely. Now, all she felt was her raised skin and a slight magical tingle left behind. “Ma serannas (Thank you), Solas.”

The corner of his mouth twisted upwards softly. “You speak elven beautifully,” he sighed, his eyes still fixed on her hand, now cradled between her right thumb and forefinger.

“I didn’t think there were many different ways to speak elven.”

Solas paused, then turned back to his notebook, scribbling down a few more things. “Dialects are common in nomadic languages. The elven your clan speaks might sound very different from a clan in Orlais or Rivain.”

She had never considered that and immediately 15 more questions sprung to mind. But the hour was late and she was exhausted.

“You seem to know more elvish than anyone I’ve ever met,” she said, rising to her feet.

He glanced at her, cautiously. “I am a well traveled man.”

Noting his apprehension, she wilted, “I see…” The silence held between them until finally, she stood to leave. Before reaching the door, she stopped, spinning back around. “Would you be willing to teach me?”

Solas’s eyes snapped to hers and his brows slanted. “Teach you elven?”

“Just the things you’ve learned outside of Ferelden or the Free Marches,” she smiled, “if that would be alright.”

Lavellan had seen this look on his face before. A prideful warmth that asked as many questions as it answered.

Connection. A wall beginning to come down, stone by stone.

“I would be happy to,” he smiled sheepishly at her, before standing. She struggled to twist herself back towards the door, thinking back to that urge to run she once had and how it had transformed into the urge to stay. Her stomach felt light and her mind, somewhat drunk. She had taken enough of his time.

“Thank you, again. And sorry for waking you at this hour.”

“Tel’abelas. Halam'shivanas, (I am not sorry. These is the joys of duty,)” he chuckled as he followed her to the door. “Dareth shiral (safe travels), Lavellan.” As she stepped back out into the cold, she barely noticed the chill against her skin or the snowflakes collecting on her eyelashes. She daydreamed her entire walk back to her quarters, ten thousand questions swimming in her head.

-----

Elven sources: https://the-dalish-dish.tumblr.com/language https://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI https://fenxshiral.tumblr.com/projectelvhen Like I said above, I do have a... let's call it a sequel to this that I'm happy to share over DM because I have people I know who follow me here and what happens on my AO3 is not for their eyes.

[s0lavellan]

some of you remind me why I left the Fandom Menace and that’s not a compliment.

[alessiasky]

A small piece of my Solavellan fanfic on Ao3 Lavellan was left alone, with the breeze stirring the white dress that she had found in one of the upper rooms of the lighthouse, after taking off her armor. She turned her head upwards, looking at that strange sky above her, sighing.

It was weird.

After so long searching, after so many headaches, because of Fen'Harel's agents... And now, so easily, they knew where Solas was for sure. Lavellan knew that he was going to stay there, until he himself discovered how to get out. Lavellan clenched her left fist, the metal, silver, almost white, resenting a little.

She closed her eyes, feeling the wind of the Beyond.

"I will never forget you"

Lavellan remembered those words, said in the whisper of the wind. The same words that Solas had told her eight years ago, as an inevitable farewell.

The same ones that drove her on this path, knowing that they were true, within all the lies that the Dread Wolf had come to tell her.

Ten years ago, she closed the Breach and defeated Corypheus, achieving a peace, broken into pieces by the constant civil wars, that she had had to deal with, to defend her people. Now, with two elven gods with a thirst for revenge milling around, the world was vibrating again with anticipation of the unknown, again relying on a few brave ones, the only ones who could prevent everything from going to waste. With those thoughts in her head and with a serious step, she went to the meeting, ready to save her world, again.

Even if her world was a stubborn god with somewhat suicidal tendencies, she said to herself, reluctant to admit it.

[bitethebulette]

Ya’ll are sleeping on a damn good Dragon Age: Inquisition fic. I’ve been reading this to fill the emptiness the end of DA:I left in me while I wait for DA:TV to come out. If you are a Dragon Age fan I highly recommend it. It’s a bunch of extra scenes and conversations with not just Solas, but the other followers and advisors. Their interpretation of everyone’s voices is impeccable.

[wrenbee]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age) Characters: Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Fade Spirit(s) (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Angst, Eventual Healing Summary:

Aura has been a beacon of light and hope for a world at its darkest hours, but when she loses the light within herself how can she find it again? What can be grown in the dark?

[dustplustars]

Out here writing and finishing my second Solavellan monster fucking fic because this fandom inspires me to no end. I was already writing it a few days before the new trailer came out AND THEN WELL....

here it is!

Wolf and I

[eluvianarts]

He felt her fingers weave back and forth across his skull, shaping and folding each strand of hair into place like a song. It was extremely calming for the both of them. She often braided little plaits into his hair for practicality or for fun. Sometimes they talked and joked about life, sometimes they stayed silent and contemplated it instead, but neither mattered. It was the pattern, the rhythm, that was so meditative and soothing as though with each exhale, with each comforting chuckle, the weight of all their duties washed clean from their souls. And when her hands had finished, the lovers found themselves imparted with a fresh outlook on their individual responsibilities and a brighter spirit within with which to tackle them. Before her, he’d rarely ever reached this level of relaxation outside the fade. She’d opened his heart in more ways than one and he was unsure how he’d ever manage without her.

[wendynerdwrites]

Chapter 23: Prepping for Deez Balls, is up!

Featuring art by @rexodusart!

[elf-trash]

New chapter of Wildest Dreams is up!

(Solavellan rewrite of Veilguard with Lavellan as Rook, rated E)

[faded-mage]

Another chapter of The Theory of Being is up. :3 We are getting close to the end of Inquisition (which is just wild!) and I plan on doing some tweaks on older chapters.

Chapter 31: Pieces of the Puzzle

[seeker-ophelia]

HEY EDDIE

@unifadewalker

Hi.

Number 1, WhEreS tHe DWAARPH

And number 2, I did what you asked, ser.

From Yesterdays Stream:

Why does The Well matter? The fact that the well exists gives it relevance, gives it meaning. Mythal has control over your Inquisitor if they drink from the well. It could be told so well. Could you Imagine if Mythal made Inquisitor do something, do something she didn’t want to do, and Solas went batshit crazy about it? That’s why Solas yells at you, because you’re now in servitude to an ancient Elvhen god. (Ou, gimme the spice) someone write that.