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katalyna-rose · 7 years ago

Text

Vhenan Chapter Six

Graphic Depictions of Violence

Solas/Female Lavellan, Fenris/Female Mage Hawke, Zevrain/Female Warden Mahariel

AKA: Lyna/Solas, Fenris/Alie, Zevran/Kahlia

Angst, Fluff, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Mildly Conon-Divergent, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Minor Isablea/Merrill, Constructive Criticism Welcome

Summary: Solas, the Dread Wolf Fen'Harel, has left Lyna behind in an attempt to fix mistakes made thousands of years ago. Willing to destroy everything for his goals, he doesn’t realize exactly how determined Lyna is to show him a better path. Both worlds could thrive, given the chance. Her world is real and valid and deserves a chance, but so does his. There must be a middle ground.

And there is another reason that Lyna must find Solas, a secret kept from the world that attempted to put her up on a pedestal. But how would Thedas react to such a secret, such undeniable proof that their Herald of Andraste is a person like any other? That she is someone who loves, someone who makes mistakes, who bleeds and cries. And is having the Dread Wolf’s child.

Read on AO3!

From the Beginning

Moonlight,

Cullen is asking about you again. He says you never respond to his letters. Leliana still gets reports from you when you have anything to send, but Cullen and Josephine are feeling left out. I get that motherhood is exhausting and chasing down the father of your child is taxing in a lot of ways, but you’re neglecting your friends. When was the last time you left Hawke estate and went further than market? I know you’re laying low and all, but this isn’t healthy.

Look, I get why you refused that property and title I promised you at the Exalted Council, but you could at least accept some invitations to socialize? You must be shriveling up from lack of interaction with actual people. I know you, Moonlight, and you need people. I know you want to stay hidden and all, but couldn’t you at least write to your friends? We’re worried.

Varric,

You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just that between the post-partum depression and the general depression about Solas it’s been a little difficult to get excited about anything. My son is my only joy right now, and I know that’s not healthy.

I don’t think I’m comfortable just yet navigating Kirkwall’s upper class and I’m definitely not willing to visit the Viscount’s palace, but why don’t you drop by sometime? You know Hawke and Fenris are always happy to have you.

I’ll write to Cullen and Josie. You’re right, I’m not being fair to them.

Moonlight

Lyna,

Maker’s breath, it’s been ages since I heard from you! If not for the reports Leliana gets I would start to get worried!

Where are you getting your information, anyway? Leliana tells me that your last report was startlingly detailed and my men found exactly what was predicted. How did you even know there were ruins under the river in Emprise du Lion, let alone that there would be agents there?

I’m glad to hear that your son is well. I hope this means that you’ll come back soon and work with us again. Without your presence, everyone feels a little slower, stilted. The entire cause feels a little possible. I understand why you left, but I’m sure that the people of Thedas could forgive you for having a child out of wedlock. It happens, after all, right?

Or are you worried that they won’t accept who fathered the boy? I admit, to anyone who hadn’t seen the two of you together it might seem dangerous, but does anyone really have to know? It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing happened.

I don’t mean to press. I would simply feel much better knowing you were somewhere I could keep you safe. But it’s good to know that you and your son are well.

Cullen Stanton Rutherford

Lyna,

It is so good to hear from you! Leliana keeps me apprised, of course, but you say so little about yourself in your reports to her. They are wonderful reports, to be sure, but they leave us all a little worried about your health.

Are you eating enough? Are you taking care of yourself? Is your son well? What does he look like? What is his favorite toy? I wish I could meet him!

I’m certain that Cullen has asked you to come back, and as much as we would all love to have you, I really do not believe that Thedas could handle knowing that you’ve had a child with a man who is almost our enemy. There are many who do not understand the distinction between enemy and misguided rival and would view both you and your son with suspicion and even hostility. I am sorry if this causes you distress, but you asked me to always be honest with you about such things.

Unfortunately, enough people know about your past relationship with our favorite apostate that it would not be feasible to hide the boy’s parentage for long. And, unfortunately, to attempt such a thing would be seen as the greatest insult by many. I am sorry, my friend, but I think that, for now, it is better that you remain hidden. Leliana and I will keep Cullen in check, never fear! Though she is very busy with her duties as Divine, she always finds time to step in whenever he might do something rash, and her spies are as active as ever. Sometimes I wonder if she ever sleeps or if she hasn’t so much as napped in the past year, but she always claims to be taking care of her health. It wouldn’t do for us to lose the Divine again so quickly! And she is a dear friend.

Take care of yourself, my friend. I hope you still drink jasmine tea every night like you used to. I try to stick with the routine as it gives me a measure of comfort, but I sometimes forget. But I think that the smell of jasmine will forever make me think of cold nights in your room at Skyhold and endless gossip! As odd as it sounds, what with all the dangers and horrors and demons and politicking, I miss those days. I suppose in truth, I simply miss your company. You have always been the best friend I could have hoped for, with the exception of Leliana, perhaps!

I miss you. Please write to me often!

Josephine Montilyet

My friend,

It has been ages since your we last shared report rapport! I do so miss lead having you here. We used to discover find such interesting things around the lion that statue! Remember when we I found bought six seven of those magical rings by the fountain? And that shop with the talisman necklaces? So pretty! But our rival friend never wanted to come! I kept asking why, but he would never reveal say! And then he vanished moved away in the spring! I miss him. Don’t you?

Oh, please visit soon! It’s so boring without you here.

Lyna rolled her eyes and got to work on the decoding of Leliana’s letter until it read as it should.

My friend,

Your last report led to a discovery in Emprise du Lion. We found six magical talismans that Solas was after under the waterfall. An agent was captured, revealed nothing, and vanished by dawn. Unable to track him down again.

Send more information when you gather it.

Leliana

Lyna danced slowly around her room in Hawke’s estate, the nine-week-old boy in her arms calming slowly as she rocked him.

“You’re so much like your father,” she told him with a smile. “You’ve stolen my heart exactly as fast.” She kissed his wispy dark curls. “Never forget that you are born of love, no matter what losses result,” she whispered against his silken skin. “My little love child, your fate is yours alone.”

He reached up and patted her face, then made a demanding little noise. She grinned at him. “A story? Again? I’ve already told you one tonight,” she reminded him. He made that little mewling noise again. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell you another story,” she capitulated. She hummed, thinking. “Ah! How about I tell you about how I met your father?” he nestled into her chest and wrapped her hair around his little fist.

“I’m glad you agree,” she told him conversationally as she continued to slowly dance around with him. “Well, let’s see…

“We met after the Temple of Sacred Ashes exploded when Corypheus unlocked the Orb of Fen’Harel. I’d been caught in the explosion and received the Anchor on accident while trying to save the Divine. He’d stopped it from consuming me and made sure I would live, at least for a while. Cassandra, a Seeker and Right Hand of the Divine, wanted to see if it could be used to close the Breach that threatened to destroy the world. She took me to a rift near Haven, where some soldiers and volunteers were battling the endless stream of demons pouring out of the Fade. We helped them defeat those who had already come through, then I felt my hand grabbed.

“’Quickly, before more come through!’ he cried, and thrust my hand at the rift. And it closed, like magic. Which it was, naturally. I could hardly believe it, even though I’d felt the power coursing between the mark on my hand and the tear in the Veil.

“’What did you do?’ I asked him. And then I looked. I think I loved him right then, with my first glimpse. He was regal, tall for an elf, completely bald, with intense blue eyes and sharp features. And he wasn’t nearly as subtle as he thought.

“He smiled at me and my breath caught. ‘I did nothing,” he told me. ‘The credit is yours.’

“Of course, it really wasn’t. Not then, at least. I had no idea what I was doing.” Solas burped and snuggled deeper into her embrace. She smiled at him as he slid slowly toward sleep.

“He is remarkable, is your father,” she told him softly. “Brilliant and wise and kind and compassionate. I talked to him for hours, never tiring of his beautiful voice or the way he viewed the world. We would read together, each researching different subjects, or taking turns reading the same book, trading passages aloud. He sat on a couch in the rotunda at Skyhold and I laid my head in his lap. I fell asleep like that more than once, and woke to find that he had carefully extracted my book from my hands and marked my page for me. He never complained about it, either; he just seemed to enjoy my presence. He painted frescoes on the walls of the rotunda and they were the most beautiful art I have ever seen. Each of them depicted the things I had done to try to save the world from Corypheus. They were amazing, with a wonderful eye to color and texture. I miss that tower, though not as much as I miss the man who spent so much time there.” She sighed and smiled sadly at her son.

“I need to find some way to tell him about you, da’mi,” she told him gently. “He should know, even if he never meets you.” Solas started snoring gently, so she laid him carefully in his crib and tucked his blankets around him. “Even though he might leave or it might change nothing at all, he deserves to know about his son…” She kissed his forehead and stood.

“That is not true,” whispered a soft voice from a shadowed corner of the room.

Lyna leapt into a defensive position, a dagger in her hand, her son protected behind her, a snarl on her face. But when she saw who stepped out of the shadows, arms out beside him, unarmed though never unprotected, her dagger fell from limp fingers and her snarl turned to open-mouthed shock.

“Solas…” She breathed his name, terrified that she was dreaming again or hallucinating or that if she spoke this spell would be broken and she’d be alone with her sorrows once more.

He shuddered at the sound of his name and stepped forward. He retrieved the dagger she’d dropped and slipped it into the little sheath strapped to her ruined arm without touching her. And then they simply stood there, staring at each other in breathless shock, until the silence became unbearable.

“What isn’t true?” she whispered, desperate to hear him speak, to know why he’d come, to see him look at his son for the first time. One corner of his mouth turned up just a little.

“This changes everything,” he breathed, reaching forward. He gently wiped away a tear that had fallen onto her cheek. She hadn’t realized she’d started crying, but once she knew she couldn’t seem to stop. “Please, vhenan,” he said softly, moving closer, taking her face in his hands. She closed her eyes briefly at the familiar warmth of his palms on her cheeks, irrationally comforting her. “Allow me a place in your life once more, and I will never betray your trust again.”

“Why?” she asked in a whisper, a thousand questions wrapped up in that one word. A tear dripped down his cheek, startling her. Why was he crying?

“I could tell you that I would not abandon my child. But that would be only part of the truth.” She frowned, confused and overwhelmed. “The reason I sought you out now is because I cannot bear to live without you any longer.” Her jaw dropped open as his thumbs gently caressed her cheeks, wiping away her tears as quickly as they fell. Does he mean this? she wondered. Truly? You call for me in the Fade and my soul calls back. You find me in dreams and it feels so right that I no longer remember why I had convinced myself that it was not. I see you searching for me every night and I want to be caught. What remains of the Inquisition works with my agents instead of against them and I see your hand in that, your guidance. You would aid me even from so far away from both me and your people. I can no longer stay away. I can hardly remember why I had been so certain I had to. If you have found a way to do all of this, then surely you can find a way to help me, to guide me to a better path. I do not want the people of this world to suffer.” She choked on a sob and one hand slid into her hair, fingers running across her scalp in a way he knew would soothe her. “I cannot stay away any longer, no matter the consequences. If you demand that I leave, I will go. But I will never be far away. Never again.”

And then she collapsed, fainted dead away.

Lyna woke slowly, hearing agitated voices nearby arguing in hushed tones.

“So you thought it was a good idea to just show up out of nowhere and assault her?”

“I did no such thing! I do not know why she collapsed, but I suspect it was shock.”

“Not to mention that you’re trespassing in my house!”

“I couldn’t very well walk up and ring the bell. There are many who would see me dead and I needed to remain undetected.”

“And one of them is in this room, Dread Wolf.”

“Stop it, Hawke,” Lyna moaned, trying to sit up, surprised to find herself in her own bed on top of the sheets. Suddenly, she was surrounded by concerned faces. Hawke and Fenris elbowed Solas behind them and he didn’t fuss or fight about it. Hawke propped her up while Fenris piled pillows behind her, but she barely noticed.

He was here. The man she loved, the man she wanted more than anything else, the man she’d spent almost a year chasing across all of Thedas. He was standing just there, just out of reach. She needed him to close the distance.

“Solas,” she said on a breath and watched emotions flicker behind his eyes, so open and yet unreadable, his thoughts veiled only by their complexity. She held her hand out to him and he stepped forward to take it. Fenris grabbed his wrist before he could and backed him into the wall, pressing a blade against his neck.

“Stop!” Lyna cried, struggling to her feet despite the wave of dizziness that assaulted her. “Fenris, don’t!” Little Solas, in his crib, woke at the sound of his mother’s distress and started screaming. She ignored him and launched herself at Fenris, but Hawke held her back. “Let me go!” she yelled to her friend, twisting in her grip, clawing at the arms that held her to no avail. “Don’t hurt him, Fenris!”

“I know what you are. I know what you’ve done,” Fenris growled, low and dangerous and menacing. “If you hurt her, or her son, or anyone that I care about, I will hunt you to the ends of the world and beyond. I will not stop until I destroy you, by any means necessary.”

“I have no intention of harming anyone here,” Solas replied calmly. He was motionless, allowing himself to be held against the wall, but a dangerous light gleamed in his eyes; the Dread Wolf was not someone to threaten lightly. Lyna had no doubt that Solas was allowing this to happen and that Fenris wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he fought back.

“Fenris,” Lyna pleaded, unable to break free from Alie’s hold to stop him. “Let him go. You’ve made your point. Enough!” But Fenris stayed still for a moment longer before finally releasing Solas. Once Fenris had sheathed his blade, Alie released her.

She ran to him. Without even thinking about what she was doing, Lyna threw herself at Solas. A split second before she made contact, she wondered if he would even open his arms for her. But he did more than that. Solas took a step forward and met her mid-stride, wrapping her up in his warm arms and swinging her around. He showered kisses on her hair and face, crying with her.

When they finally calmed down enough to release each other, Hawke and Fenris were gone. Lyna wiped her eyes and laughed a little, then went to calm her still-screaming son. His cries slowed as soon as he saw her. She scooped him up into her arm and he wrapped a hand in her hair, put a thumb in his mouth, and quieted.

She took a deep, steadying breath and turned to Solas. His gaze was fixed on the small bundle cradled in her arm.

“He has your eyes,” he whispered reverently. She smiled.

“Yes,” she told him. “And your hair, it seems. He certainly didn’t get that mahogany color from me.”

Suddenly, like the sun coming up after a long and cold night, Solas grinned and closed the distance between them. He reached out and gently stroked his son’s cheek. The baby, for his part, instantly released his mother’s hair to reach out and grab Solas’s finger. She looked up at him and laughed when she saw that he was already enamored with the child.

“What did you name him?” Solas asked after a moment, voice still soft.

“I named him for his father.” His head jerked back as though she’d slapped him and he looked at her with wide eyes.

“Truly?” He seemed shocked. “Why?” She smiled at him.

“I hoped he would grow up to share the best of his father. I hoped that he would be brave and strong and smart and true. Willing to fight for what he believes is right. Compassionate almost to a fault. So that’s what I named him.”

With the hand that wasn’t being clutched with fat little fingers, Solas caressed her face gently. “I cannot fathom how I ever expected to be able to stay away from you,” he whispered. He leaned in and her breath started to come faster as his gaze fastened on her mouth.

“Ir abelas, vhenan. I know that my apologies will never be enough,” he whispered just before his lips met hers.

Soft and sweet and warm, firm shape yielding to her, his lips were just as she remembered. He held her head gently, touching her with only the fingers of one hand and his lips. She sighed against his mouth and licked his lip. He opened for her readily and his tongue danced with hers, as sweet an apology as she had ever received. She could have stayed there forever, their son in her arm and holding his father, their lips pressed together and tongues twining, his fingers gently stroking her cheek.

It was a long time before Solas pulled back, though Lyna truly thought that she could have kissed him for hours. He smiled down at his son and gently shook the fingers the infant still held, startling a giggle form the little boy. With his other hand, he delicately touched the wisps of dark hair that capped his skull

“Do you want to hold him?” Lyn asked after watching Solas explore his child for a while. He froze and looked up at her.

“If… you would allow it,” he said hesitantly. She smiled at him and the expression soften his own, caution blending into adoration.

“I would not keep you from it,” she told him softly. He swallowed hard and reached out for his son. The infant transferred easily from mother to father, rolling slightly and clutching at the soft pelt that was wrapped around Solas’s shoulders. Lyna repositioned his hands slightly, making certain the babe was properly supported in his father’s grasp. With an adorable little yawn and burble of noise, their son settled into his father’s embrace and drifted off to sleep again.

“He’s never this calm with new people,” Lyna whispered, watching her son grasp at his father’s chest, flexing his little fists in the fur.

“Never?” Solas asked, his voice equally soft.

“No. He always fusses when someone he doesn’t know holds him, sometimes so indignant that I have no choice but to take him back. And he never falls asleep in anyone’s arms but my own.” She looked up and met his eyes to see that tears still swam in those blue depths that she had missed so dearly.

“Lyna,” he whispered, and the sound of her name on his lips, whispered like a prayer, made her breath catch. Without thinking, she reached her left arm towards him, intending to caress his face. She was startled for a moment, as she still sometimes was, when she was unable to make contact before she remembered her missing arm. Blushing at the slip, the sign of weakness often covered by a prosthetic when she was out in public, she lowered what remained of her arm and instead used the hand she still possessed to lightly brush her fingertips over his cheek.

But he was frowning at the incomplete appendage. She turned her body slightly to hide it, as had become her habit when people stared at the missing limb, and he met her eyes again.

“There is something…” he began, then paused. He looked down at the sleeping infant he still held. “We should put him to bed,” he said. She nodded and helped him lay their son in his crib.

“Here,” he said quietly, and magic, soft and blue, sparked at his fingertips just above the crib.

Alarmed, Lyna caught his wrist, interrupting the spell. “What are you doing?” she asked tightly.

The magic had died from his hands as soon as she objected, his other hand falling to his side harmlessly. Her suspicion hurt him, she could see, but he wouldn’t object, likely believed that he deserved it. He probably did.

“A muffling spell,” he said softly. “Any noises from inside the crib can be heard clearly from without, but he will hear only well-muffled sounds. It will allow him to remain undisturbed by our conversation and allow us more freedom with volume.” She didn’t release him, casting a nervous glance to her sleeping son. “I will not cast it, if you prefer. I merely wished to make things a little easier on you.”

It was a question of trust, she realized. And it was more than a simple spell. If she allowed him to freedom to cast magic so close to her son, she was telling him and revealing to herself that she trusted him implicitly. All too easily he could remove this tether, destroy them both so that he might suffer no more distractions. Or he could do as he claimed, cast his muffling spell so that they could speak freely without worry for waking their son and decide where to go from there. Did she trust him? She already knew her answer before the unspoken question was even asked.

Lyna dropped his wrist. “Yes,” she said softly, keeping her eyes averted, somewhat embarrassed to have stopped him to begin with. “It sounds like that would be very useful.”

Solas hesitated a moment longer, eyes scanning her face, then cast his spell, blue sparks forming like a net around the crib, the power pure and beautiful.

“It is done,” he said at a normal volume, no longer whispering. Lyna nodded but said nothing, watching the soft sparks over the crib and unsure of how to proceed. The silence stretched between them, awkward and tense, until he broke it.

“There is something I could do for you, if you wish it, that I did not have the strength to accomplish before,” he said slowly. He took a half step closer and, with a gentle touch, ran a fingertip along her jaw, asking her to look at him. She did, unable now as ever to resist his touch. In his eyes she saw both sorrow and love, the strength of the emotions paining her. What must he be thinking? “I stole your arm from you when I destroyed the Anchor to keep it from destroying you. But now I can give back your arm as it was before the Anchor’s touch.”

Lyna jerked in surprise, her eyes widening. “You can give it back?” her eyes slid to the crib. How desperately she wanted to be able to hold him with both arms! To stroke his face as she held him, to be able to untangle her hair from his fists!

She started nodding, still not looking away from her son and all the possibilities that a restored limb would open. She hated her prosthetic and her son hated it more, but a true arm would be the most amazing blessing. “It will hurt,” Solas warned.

“I don’t care,” she declared, confident that she could handle it.

His touch asked her to look at him again and she complied happily, still imagining all the things she could do with both her arms again. “You will feel it all,” Solas insisted, his face dark and serious. “You will feel the scar rip to allow the new bone to form. You will feel the muscle knit across the bone and the veins take shape. You will feel your skin stretch to cover the new limb. It will be agony.” The idea of her pain tightened his face and Lyna wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

“It is worth the pain,” she told him seriously, “to be able to hold my son with both arms.”

Solas hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. With gentle hands, he stretched the stump of Lyna’s arm out beside her, stepping closer until they were only a few inches apart. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his skin as her eyes fluttered closed. He smelled just as he always had, the exotic spice of his skin, the salt and musk of male, combining with the scents of paint and charcoal and leather-bound books and the heated static of magic. At the edges of the scent she knew so well, she detected elfroot and other herbs, which was new. He’d never been an alchemist before, but the scent was unmistakable. She wondered if he was wounded and had spread a salve on a wound or if he carried dried herbs in the pockets of his clothing for some reason, but she couldn’t tell for certain.

Her skin warmed gently as he began the spell to restore her limb, but the feeling quickly became scorching heat, the end of her incomplete limb dipped in molten metal. She bit her lip, her head falling forward against the mage’s chest. She stepped into his form, needing to be closer, and he wrapped an arm around her gently after a moment’s hesitation, one hand still holding her ruined arm away from her body as the spell continued.

As the agony expanded beyond any pain that Lyna had ever known and she could no longer contain her sounds of distress, though she refused to allow herself to scream, she turned her face into Solas’s neck, breathing deep of his intoxicating and comforting scent, muffling her cries with his flesh. The feeling of his arm tight around her, his hand smoothing up and down her back, and his familiar scent filling her nose allowed her to endure the pain without fighting him.

Her lip split between her teeth and blood trickled down her chin, but she couldn’t let up on the pressure, the sharp pain in her mouth preferable to the searing agony in her arm. It seemed to go on forever, though she knew that it only took a few minutes for the new limb to form.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the white hot pain faded and the sparks traveling along all her nerves were all that remained of the ordeal. She finally released her lip from her teeth and panted in relief, her shoulders slumping, relaxing into the Dread Wolf’s embrace.

“Vhenan?” he whispered questioningly, releasing her arm and leaning back, trying to get a look at her. She let him draw her away from his chest, though she wanted only to curl up against him and sleep for a week. His brows drew together sharply when he saw her face and he took a quick breath. His thumb swiped gently at the blood on her chin, but she couldn’t bring herself to care what she looked like now that the pain was finally gone. Her lip throbbed forcefully, but even that unpleasant sensation was a relief in the absence of indescribable agony.

A moment later, a tingling touch spread across her ruined lower lip, bringing soothing coolness with it; he was healing her lip for her. He smiled gently, pulling a handkerchief from some unseen pocket and using it to wipe away the blood. She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his careful touch.

“Vhenan?” he whispered again when she still made no more to step away or test the new arm or say anything at all. “Lyna, please…”

The edge of fear in his voice, his worry for her, broke the shell around her mind and she thought again. She thought that perhaps she had almost gone into shock from that horrid pain, but it was time to bring herself back. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, then looked down at her left side. Carefully, tentatively, as if moving it would ignite that agony again, she lifted her arm.

She look a ragged breath as she examined her forearm and hand, the skin whole and healthy, looking just like the one she’d lost except for the absence of the Anchor in her palm. She grinned as she flexed her fingers, running her other hand over the new one, feeling the delicate bones in her wrist.

Despite her earlier intentions to go immediately to her son, Lyna could not resist looking up at the man she still loved, who watched her exploration stoically, and place her newly restored hand against his cheek.

With a raw groan, he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch only to open them again and watch her face, love and relief and agony in his gaze. She stroked his face gently, feeling the sharpness of his cheekbone under smooth skin. Gently, tentatively, she traced the details of his face, touching the dark circles under his eyes and the hollows in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before, smoothing her fingers over his eyebrow and exploring the smooth, bare expanse of his scalp. He hissed in a sharp breath when she ran a finger gently along the blade of his ear, the touch one she remembered could drive him wild when they were intimate. She was almost surprised that her touch still had that effect on him.

He caught her wrist when she continued to play with the tip of his ear, pressing a kiss against her palm before lacing his fingers with hers. He caught her gaze, eyes full of raw emotion that she begin to decipher.

“Vhenan,” he whispered again, and her breath caught as the endearment left his lips.

“Is this even real?” Lyna asked, scarcely daring to believe that it could be. Instead of answering, Solas sifted his fingers through her hair, loose and flowing past her shoulders, then trailed the backs of his fingers over her collarbone, then gently touched her cheek.

“Does it feel real?” he asked. She nodded slowly. They had been together in the Fade before and there was no mistaking that experience for this. He was real and solid, standing in front of their son’s crib in her room in Hawke’s estate.

“How long will it continue to be real?” she asked in a whisper. He closed his eyes, seemingly in pain, but she didn’t understand. He never stayed and she only wanted to know if they would have this one night or if he could be gone sooner.

With a speed that made her cry out in surprise, he gripped her face in his hands and crushed his lips against hers. This kiss was nothing like the one he had bestowed upon her earlier. That had been gentle, a soft embrace, a sweet apology. This was raw, undiluted passion, nearly violent in its intensity, their need clashing and crashing together. His hands explored the curves of her face roughly, calloused fingers tracing her high, prominent cheekbones and the short point of her chin before snaking back through her white hair again. With desperation that bordered on pain, he took her mouth hard. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, flicking it against her own, then took her newly-healed lip between his teeth with no attempt at restraint. He tilted his head to the other side to take her from a new angle, never slowing as he attempted to devour her.

And she had no desire to protest or resist. She kissed him with a matching urgency, by no means simply letting him take what he clearly needed. She demanded him in return, sparring with his tongue when it passed her lips, nipping him back when he bit her. Her hands gripped him tight and held him close, her new fingers sliding along the cotton of his tunic and the fur of the pelt he wore over it. There was no armor beneath her hands, as there had been the last time she’d seen him in the waking world. He was not dressed for battle or intimidation. Instead he was dressed for travel in styles she remembered a certain humble apostate preferred, though the quality of the cloth was much higher than what he’d worn when he’d worked with the Inquisition. The wolf’s jawbone he wore on a long cord around his neck dug into her ribs where she pressed against him, just as it always had. And it was too much, too familiar, too perfect, necessary like water, and she couldn’t believe in it after everything that had happened.

“Stop!” she cried, finally breaking the kiss by throwing her head back. They were both breathing hard as he allowed her to withdraw, though he maintained his hold on her face. He pressed his forehead to hers, staying pressed against her tightly, unwilling to relinquish his grasp on her even when she squirmed half-heartedly in his grip.

“What is this, Solas?” she demanded as she caught her breath. “Why are you here?”

“For you,” he said harshly, the intensity of his tone staggering her. “Because I will not be parted from you for another moment.”

She tore herself out of his grasp and met his eyes. “What changed?” she asked, watching his expression. He seemed to wince, just for a moment. “You have told me so many times that we cannot be together, that you will not share your path with me. What changed?”

“Nothing,” he said, and she flinched away before he caught her. “In essence,” he told her slowly, intently, holding her still by gripping her shoulders, “I am a selfish creature. I always have been. In my youth, I was rash, reckless, inconsiderate. I sought pleasure for its own sake and cared nothing for the consequences. I cannot be that way anymore, and I have no desire to be, but I am still selfish.” He pressed his brow to hers again. “Falling in love with you was selfish. Allowing the relationship to bloom was selfish. Leaving you in the way I did was incredibly selfish and cruel, though I tried to convince myself that it was for your own good as well as mine. And now my selfishness will not allow me to leave again. I want you too much, I love you too much to turn away.”

Lyna pulled away again and slapped his hands away when he reached for her. It was her turn to grab his face, to trap him and force him to look at her. “You would take me with you now? You would take me and our son to wherever it is you have been hiding all this time? You would weave us into the strange fabric of your life and allow me to walk this path with you?”

“I will,” he said, voice breaking low on the vow. “Whatever it takes, whatever I must do to earn your trust back, I will do it. I will lay the world at your feet and beg for scraps of attention if that is what you ask. I will tear your enemies asunder. I will-“

“I don’t want that,” she said quickly, cutting him off. “That isn’t…” She stopped and took a breath. “I can annihilate my own enemies. I don’t need you for that.”

“Then what do you want?” he asked softly. “What is it that you need from me?”

“An apology would be a good start,” she told him. Nearly a year of anger had begun building in her chest and now it demanded release.

“Ir abelas, vhenan,” he said without hesitation. “I am sorry that I left you without explanation. I am sorry that I hurt you. I am so sorry that I left you naked and alone in that glen. If I could take it all back, I would. I would go back to that morning and I would tell you what I had brought you out to such a secluded place to say. I would have fallen to my knees before you and begged for forgiveness that I do not deserve for my deception. I would have told you who I truly am and asked if you could ever love the Dread Wolf, even though I do not deserve your affection.”

She stilled, certain that she had misheard, hoping that she had. “You meant to tell me the truth that day?” she asked, her voice distant and barely sounding like her own.

He nodded. “I brought you there to tell you the truth that you deserved to hear from me. I lost my nerve at the last moment and told you about the Vallaslin instead.”

“You bastard!” she cried, striking his chest with both hands. He took a half step back, shocked by her sudden and uncharacteristic rage. “You could have prevented all of this!” She hit him again, the force of the strike pushing him back. She was shaking with fury, her vision swimming with hazy red. “You could have been with me when I was pregnant!” Another furious push against him. He did nothing to defend himself, simply taking her violent anger as his due. “You could have greeted our son as he entered the world! You could have saved me from all the pitying looks people gave the lonely, pregnant cripple who was not even worth a visit from the father of her child! I was just a pathetic woman living off the charity of her friends!” In her anger and agony, she slapped him across the face. Her newly formed palm cracked loudly against his cheek and his head whipped to the side painfully. Her palm stung, fingers sore from the force of the blow, but he did not retaliate. He simply straightened and looked at her again, his cheek turning angry red before her eyes. He did not heal it, though it might bruise. “You left me!” she shrieked, in far too much pain to keep quiet. “You took my heart and you left with it!”

And just like that, her anger evaporated. Hot tears slid down her face and she hung her head, falling to her knees. She was drained, exhausted by the strength of her rage and its sudden departure that left only despair behind.

“You left me,” she murmured, feeling again the same confusion and despair she had experienced when she realized he was gone and he wasn’t coming back. Tears fell, the same tears she’d cried each night for weeks as she ran her hands over her growing middle and wished that long artist’s fingers would twine with hers over the life that they had created within her.

Solas followed her to the floor and held her against his chest as she sobbed, clutching at him as if he would disappear at any moment. He held her silently, stroking her gently, offering comfort that she was too exhausted and too desperate for to reject.

After a long while, her ears finally dried, her sobs dissolving into hiccups. Still he held her, his grip gentle and soft. She didn’t know how long they sat there on the floor, but eventually she fell asleep, still cradled in his arms like a delicate treasure.

#katalyna writes #vhenan #solavellan #lyna and solas #lyna lavellan #lyna/solas

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katalyna-rose · 8 years ago

Text

Vhenan Chapter Four

Graphic Depictions of Violence

Solas/Female Lavellan, Fenris/Female Mage Hawke, Zevrain/Female Warden Mahariel

AKA: Lyna/Solas, Fenris/Alie, Zevran/Kahlia

Angst, Fluff, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Mildly Conon-Divergent, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Minor Isablea/Merrill, Constructive Criticism Welcome

Read on AO3!

From the Beginning

Lyna was dreaming, she knew. She was getting much better at controlling her dreams while she slept, but she’d been too tired to bother with trying to stay lucid this time. It was something important that she was dreaming about, wasn’t it? Suddenly she couldn’t remember.

She’d looked up from whatever important thing she’d been dreaming about and seen, far off over a hill, a lone figure. The facsimile of a sun had glanced off of something reflective and drawn her eye. She knew who that figure was, who it always was that watched her from afar while she slept.

They stared at each across a vast distance, much farther than would have been possible in the waking world. Whatever dream she’d been having dissipated the moment she’d seen him, and she didn’t regret the loss; she’d rather dream of him.

Lyna didn’t dream of Solas. Ever. The spirits of the Fade could never imitate him in a way she could tolerate and they’d stopped trying quickly, knowing better than to make the attempt. Even the demons chose other shapes rather than face her wrath at being presented with a false image of her lover. She knew that whenever she spied him watching from far away that it was really him, just as she knew that when she found him other ways it was really him. She knew it in her bones with a conviction that went beyond dreams, beyond the physical or metaphysical; he was her heart, and she was tied to him. What she didn’t know was why he did it. Why was he there, impossibly far away, watching over her as she slept? What drew him to her even though he would never approach?

A spirit approached Lyna from her left, now that she was lucid again. She waved hello with her left hand, the one se only still had in dreams. The spirit was silent for a moment, watching her watch him.

“It hurts you to see him,” it said once it could no longer stand the silence. “So why do you look?”

“Listen harder,” she replied mildly, staring unblinkingly at her love as though he would vanish if she looked away. He likely would. “Tell me what it is you sense from me when I see him.” She felt the spirit’s disapproval.

“Alright.” It was silent for a few moments.

“Red hot, raw pain.” It was a different voice, not the same spirit she’d just been speaking to. “A knife in the chest, tearing at the heart. A fire in the belly, right where my son rests in the waking world. He doesn’t know about his child. Should have told him, should have told him.”

“Hello, Cole,” Lyna greeted him. She was surprised to hear him, but wouldn’t look away from the man she loved to see the spirit.

“You’re missing something,” the first spirit told him. “Light, floating joy. He still cares, he watches because he still cares. He’s making sure I’m safe, making sure I’m still me. Seeing him hurts, but not seeing him hurts more. Wish he would approach, let me see him clearly, maybe talk to him. He won’t without tricks, he never will, but this is still good.”

Lyna smiled. “Yes, Joy. It does hurt to see him, but it’s worth the pain.” She bit her lip, then did the one thing that she knew would send him away, but she had to try anyway. She reached for him, beckoning, taking a step forward. He vanished as if he’d never been, as she’d known he would. But it didn’t matter; she always had to try anyway, and he would be back the next time they slept at the same time.

Her shoulders slumped in disappointment and she had to take care to keep her despair from corrupting her friends as she turned to them. “It’s good to see you, Cole,” she told him, smiling at the spirit who had helped her destroy Corypheus.

“Yes,” he said. “It is good to be seen.” He was silent for a moment, contemplative. “We could tell him,” he finally said.

“Tell him?” she asked, her mind still on the vanished figure rather than her friends.

“Tell him that you carry his child and are set to deliver soon,” Joy said, picking up Cole’s thought eagerly.

“He keeps me away,” Cole said. “He knows I still see you, knows that I would tell you what he’s doing to try to help you both, so he doesn’t let me close enough to hear. But we could ask someone else to tell him.”

“No!” Lyna cried, alarmed by the thought. They both jumped, startled. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “No, thank,” she said again, softer. “He shouldn’t hear it third hand. It would…” She paused, trying to find the right words to explain. “It would be crueler than not telling him at all. And it would still change nothing. This is my way of taking care of him. I know it hurt him to leave me like he did, and I know it would hurt him even more to know that I will raise his child alone.” She turned and looked at the spot where he had stood, but the landscape of the Fade had already changed and the hill he had graced with his presence was gone. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Oh,” Joy said, unusually solemn. Then it started dancing and bouncing, its usual joyful nature taking over. “Then what shall we do today? I know of this wonderful spot nearby. A spirit of wisdom lives there. I don’t like it very much. It likes to poke holes in my joy. But you might like it! I could introduce you.” Lyna smiled at the happy spirit who danced around. Cole was gone again, but that wasn’t unusual.

“Alright, Joy. I’d love to meek your acquaintance.”

Lyna came awake with a gasp, a puddle of liquid between her thighs. She’d been mid-conversation with Wisdom, the spirit Joy had introduced to her a few weeks prior. She struggled to sit up and Orana, who had taken to sleeping on a pallet in the room in order to be at hand if Lyna or her son needed anything, was roused by the noise. Lyna had tried to tell the girl that it wasn’t necessary for her to inconvenience herself, but Orana wouldn’t have it. She insisted that she had to make sure any guests were well looked-after, especially one who had yet to be born.

“Oh! Miss! Are you alright?” she asked, leaping to her feet and rushing over.

“The baby is coming,” Lyna gasped, single hand clutching at the frantic movement within. “My water just broke.” Orana gasped and delight and helped the grimacing woman to sit on the edge of the bed.

With Orana’s help, Lyna changed out of the soaked nightgown and into the loose, billowy shift she’d purchased for exactly this occasion. Then she sat, rubbing her hand over her restless child as he prepared to greet the world, while Orana roused Hawke and Fenris.

“Well, you’re right on schedule,” Hawke said as she entered, still tying the knot on her crimson robe.

“Yes, we are,” Lyna replied, grinning.

“Come on, then,” Hawke said, and helped her friend to her feet. She wrapped Lyna’s arm around her shoulder and supported most of the younger woman’s weight. We’d best get you down to the clinic. Orana, would you mind cleaning up the bed, please?”

“Of course, mistress!” the little elven girl said, already stripping the sheets.

“Thank you,” Alie said as they left the room. “Fenris didn’t get back until quite late, so I left him to sleep. He’ll come down to the clinic later. After all, you’re going to be in labor for quite a while yet.”

“I’m not worried about it,” Lyna told her friend. “You don’t need to stay, either. I just need the help getting down there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied incredulously. “I’m staying. You’re going to break my hand as you push this child out of your body and I’m going to listen to every single inventive curse you utter as you struggle with it.”

“But, as you so helpfully pointed out, that won’t happen for hours yet,” Lyna reminded her.

“Sure, your baby won’t start screaming for hours, but you will,” Hawke said with wry humor. Lyna laughed, then gasped breathlessly.

When the pair of them made it down to the clinic, Elarra was roused by an apprentice and they were rushed into a private room in the back of the clinic. In short order, Lyna was settled onto a special platform and Elarra was measuring her progress.

After a few minutes, pain began to build in her lower body and she gasped, clenching her hand into a fist around Alie’s, and thrashed from the agony, instinctually attempting to fight it. Elarra and Alie held her down as she convulsed, but they had trouble with it.

“Maker, she’s strong!” Elarra said once the contraction had faded slightly.

“Well, she’s very good with a bow,” Hawke said with a shrug. “Or she was, before she lost her arm. Now she’s good with a dagger. And piercing insults.” She muttered the last bit under her breath and Lyna wondered if she’d been talking through the pain again.

“It’s only going to get worse and if she thrashes like that it could harm the child,” Elarra said, scowling.

“I’m sorry,” Lyna gasped. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh, I know, dear,” the healer said. “But I think I need to send you to sleep for this.”

“As long as it won’t harm my son,” she told the woman, “do whatever you need.”

“Alright, give me a moment.” And she bustled off with two apprentices. Lyna could feel another contraction building by the time she returned. “Here, drink this,” she said, sticking a truly foul-smelling cup under Lyna’s nose. She nearly gagged at the smell, but managed to swallow the small amount of liquid in the bottom. She was unconscious between one blink and the next.

Lyna sat up, blinking in surprise, in a meadow that looked vaguely like one of the places her clan had once settled. She sighed, feeling more lucid than she had ever been in dreaming. There was no sudden moment when awareness suddenly came to her or slow dawning of realization. She simply knew it was the Fade.

She rested her hands, both of them, on her flat stomach and sighed. She wondered where her son was when he slept, if unborn children could visit the Fade. She wondered where they were until they were born. Would she find him in the Fade once he was born? Or would he remain in that place she didn’t know about until he was older?

“Oh!” What are you doing back here so early?” Joy asked, its voice deep and rumbling this time as it appeared beside her. It was lying on its stomach, its feet kicking through the air. It plucked a long piece of sweet grass and fiddled with it.

“I’m having a baby,” Lyna told her friend. It gasped and sat up.

“Congratulations!” it cried with glee. Then it frowned. “By why are you here? Isn’t the mother supposed to be awake to push?”

“Yes, normally,” she informed it. “But I was thrashing and fighting the pain with my contractions, so my healer put me to sleep. I’ll likely be here until the baby arrives.”

“Oh.” They were silent for a while, enjoying the sunshine and warm breeze.

“You want to see him, don’t you?” Joy asked suddenly. Lyna slanted a look at her friend. “The father,” it clarified. “You want to see Solas because you’re having his baby right now.” She sighed.

“Yes,” she admitted softly, eyes on her hands. She ran the fingers of her right hand gently over her left arm.

“I probably won’t be able to do it twice, but I could get you close,” Joy offered at last and Lyna looked at it in shock. “It’ll help,” it said by way of explanation. Lyna was nodding before she even made the decision.

Joy moved them through the Fade before Lyna had a chance to second-guess her decision and suddenly she felt herself slip past a barrier that Joy did not follow her through. The consciousness of the dreamer whose mind she had just entered shifted to accommodate her rather than to expel or investigate her, so she knew that Joy had brought her to the right place; when he wasn’t paying attention, Solas would welcome her into his mind still, as he once had whenever she sought him in dreams.

She moved slowly through his dreams, wondering what he was seeing, if he was conscious like her or if he’d allowed himself to get swept up in the current. What she found surprised and excited her; he’d been swept away and was not aware that he was dreaming. Better yet, he was dreaming of his work. She grinned as she reached out and carefully twisted his dream to include her as a natural part of it, as though she belonged with him in his private quarters in whatever hideout he’d found for himself. It was easy enough since she did belong there and his unconscious mind made no effort to resist her alteration; he knew she belonged there, too, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

He was seated at a desk of dark wood, a beautiful window letting in the light of the moons and a mage light hovering at his elbow to allow him to continue working through the night. She prodded his consciousness slightly, blurring the pages until they became the ones that currently sat on his desk. He didn’t notice her alteration, would be less likely to notice her intrusion because of it. He had probably fallen asleep in the middle of work again and it had followed him into the Fade. It wouldn’t be the first time she had come upon him in such a state in dreams. They chased each other through each other’s subconscious in an endlessly reversing cycle of cat and mouse. Or, more accurately, wolf and fox; both were predators who would hunt each other when their territory was intruded upon.

“Making progress?” she asked, coming up behind him and resting her hands on his shoulders. It didn’t feel quite right, the material of his shirt subtly wrong in the Fade, but his muscles were smooth and strong and his skin was warm and supple exactly as it should be. She slipped her hands into his shirt to feel his skin and began kneading his shoulders just because she could. He groaned gratefully and leaned back in his chair to allow her access, one hand reaching up to cover hers gently.

“Very little,” he admitted wearily. She bent and kissed the top of his head.

“It’s late,” she observed, wondering exactly how late it was for him. It had been just before dawn for her, but he could be just about anywhere in the world. He chuckled softly, just a little, and it made her shiver.

“So it is,” he agreed, his face still turned away from her. She didn’t like that, needed to see him, so she curled a finger under his chin and turned his face towards her. Gently, trying to make it as natural as possible but unable to push away the caution that warned her that she would scare him away with her touch, she kissed his brow.

“I think it’s time for a break,” she whispered, trying to slow the pounding of her heart. She felt a strange tug between her thighs and wondered how much time she had, if her son was being born already; time moved differently in the Fade, after all. When she leaned back, his eyes were closed and a soft smile curved his lips. Dark circles ringed his eyes and he seemed to have lost some weight since she last saw him in waking months before, but he was exactly as beautiful as ever. And she still loved him exactly as much as ever, to her own detriment. “Won’t you come to bed with me?” she asked, trying to keep the desperation out of her tone.

He sighed and opened his eyes and she pouted at him when she read the refusal in his gaze. She didn’t have much time and she’d rather spend it in his arms or beneath him, anywhere but this awful stalemate between them. “Vhenan, I have much to do before morning,” he told her. She slid into his lap, desperation making her bold as straddled his legs and kept him from his desk and the work there. He stared at her with raised brows, bemused. “You know this is important, my love.” But his voice was growing low, rougher, as she lowered her hips so that she hovered just above him, her heat radiating to him.

“Of course it’s important,” she murmured, leaning in and staring intently at his hips. “But surely you can take just an hour or two off?”

He chuckled, but the sound was dark, tempting, tempted. “Would such a short amount of time truly satisfy you, vhenan?” he asked her, amused. She pouted at him.

“For now,” she pressed honestly; that was perhaps more time than she even had. She gave him no more time in which to protest, however, and claimed his lips with hers.

He gasped slightly and she did, too, the taste of him exactly as she remembered it and the need building in her threatening to drown her. He tasted of sugar and wine and clean water, and she eagerly plunged her tongue into his mouth. He chuckled again as he allowed her overeager kiss, his hands encircling her waist as hers clutched at his shoulders. She kept herself firmly in his lap as he attempted to gently remove her, refusing to budge.

“Vhenan,” he tried to protest, but she swallowed the sounds. He tried again to speak, to tell her to let him work, but she only kissed him harder. He could have removed her easily, could have picked her up and tossed her from the chair, and they both knew it. It wasn’t a question of strength, as he was the physically stronger; it was a question of will, if his desire to deter her was greater than her desire to stay and kiss him until he lost himself in her. It had always been thus between them, his strength to act against her will to convince him not to. In the end, his only true defense against her had been to leave her vicinity before her will could overcome his once more. She was convinced that was why he kept leaving her; he knew she would win if he didn’t.

She kissed him like she was dying, or he was, like it was their last moment together. She kissed him in all the ways she knew he liked best, her fingers tracing the long points of his ears and her nails scratching lightly at his scalp until he shivered beneath her. She kissed him to remind him of how good he could feel if he let her in.

She wanted him back, wanted him home. She wanted to truly be beside him, for this dream of theirs that she had manipulated to become reality. His will bent to hers in the dream, as she’d known it would if she could only have the opportunity, and he kissed her back just as thoroughly and she knew he missed her too. His hands on her hips stopped attempting to push her away and instead pulled her closer. He pressed her down on his lap until his erection rested between her legs, hard and hot between them. He shuddered as it made contact with the damp heat in her smalls.

She pulled back and broke their kiss as a fine tremor traveled up her spine, a liquid feeling very unlike arousal between her legs; it was almost time. She should tell him. But she rested her forehead against his, pressing lazy kisses against his cheeks as he held her. He was shaking just slightly and she wondered why, if he sensed that something was off about this yet. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he understood, but she didn’t have long anyway.

“Open your heart to me, Solas,” she whispered, ghosting her lips across his. He shivered. “Let me in and I will never abandon you. I could give you so much.”

He froze and she knew. He’d figured her out. She spread her mind through the dream and collected what clues to his location and operations that she could find, coming away mostly with types of foliage to indicate southern Orlais and a few investigative operations that were ongoing. It wasn’t much, but she’d send it to Leliana when she had the chance. He would expel her from his mind soon, or she would wake to greet their son; there wasn’t much time left.

“You cannot be here,” he murmured, his hands tightening almost painfully on her waist. “How…?” His fingers became claws as he realized. “This is the Fade.”

She smiled sadly, affectionately, not betraying the pain of his grip. “It is a rare day when you are the one who has to figure that out rather than me.”

His expression of surprise became a grimace of pain as he clutched her ever tighter. “Is it you?” he whispered desperately, voice suddenly gone hoarse. “Lyna, is this you? Or merely and illusion? A spirit?”

“Oh, Solas,” she breathed against his lips, melting into his arms. “You know it is me. You would have figured out where you were much faster otherwise. You let me in when I found you. I know you wouldn’t do that for an unfamiliar spirit.”

“But why?”

She sighed heavily. “You know why, vhenan,” she told him softly. “Let me back into your heart, Solas. Come home to me.” His pained expression became agonized as he forced his fingers to release her. He seemed to age ten years for every inch of distance he forced himself to put between them.

“I cannot,” he said, sounding as though he were sentencing himself to death with those words. “I cannot bring you into this. It is not…” He stopped and drew a deep, shaking breath. “I cannot,” he said again. “Besides, you have disappeared from Skyhold. No one knows where you have gone.” He began to push at her consciousness, to remove her from his mind as she fought to stay. She smiled wryly; their son would wake her before he could.

“Those who need to know do,” she said. “You know that. How many places could I have truly gone? You could find me if you wished.” He looked chagrinned and she couldn’t help but laugh, but the end of it turned breathless from the sudden emptiness in her gut where her son had been for nine months. He was born. She would wake any moment. “I know you too well, Solas. I know you know where I am.”

His hands cupped her cheeks gently, as though she were as fragile as glass. “Vhenan,” he began, his tone agonized, but she cut him off. She had to; she was out of time and she needed to tell him about their child.

“Solas, var lath vir suledin. You must know that I have-“ The dream shattered around her to the sound of an infant’s screaming.

#katalyna writes #vhenan #solavellan

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