#leliana: oh how i enjoyed the quiet of the chantry so i could contemplate and be at peace 😌 what about you alistair? 😊 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

in-arlathan · 4 years

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These Stolen Moments

More Solavellan fanfiction, yeah! <3 ______

Time period: During DA:I Characters: Female Lavellan (Elenara Lavellan), Solas, Leliana Pairing: Solavellan Chapters: 1/1, Length: 2,971 words Rating: PG-13, Teen And Up Audiences

Summary: One night at Skyhold, Lavellan finds herself unable to rest. Trying to find peace in the Inquisition library, Solas seeks her out to offer some comfort.

A/N: Like many Solasmancers, I thought the relationship between him and Lavellan deserved at least one more cut scene. But since the game didn’t give us that I spun my own little fantasy and transformed it into fanficition. It’s much more romantic than the stuff I usually write, but it made me happy so I wrote it anyway. I hope you enjoy it. <3

You can also read this on AO3.

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The castle was quiet at last. She couldn’t recall the last time things at Skyhold had been so peaceful. Ever since the Inquisition had taken refuge in the old edifice, the courtyard and corridors had been bustling with people. Even the gardens, a place dedicated to silent contemplation, was filled with an on-going hum of conversations and prayers.

Elenara stood in the door that led her quarters in the Inquisitor’s tower and breathed a sigh of relief. She had grown so accustomed to the noise that she almost forgot the comfort of silence.

In her youth she would often steal away from the camp of her clan to seek out the quiet places in the forest. She would look for clearings or a patch of grass by a water course where she would lay down and stare up at the lush canopy and the bright blue sky beyond. In these moments, she felt the vastness of the world that made her sorrows seem small and petty by contrast. She would close her eyes and just listen to the rustling of leaves or the distant songs of birds and allow herself to just be.

How much simpler life had been back then.

Elenara readjusted the stack of books she carried with her and began walking down the great hall.

Once, she had listened to the voices of nature. Now, all she could hear was the sharp metal shriek of blades, the commands bellowed by Cullen and his officers, the battle cries of thousands upon thousands of Inquisition soldiers. And the prayers, of course. More prayers than she had ever heard before. Even at night she could hear the faithful calling out to her. Not much else seemed to exist, but the crushing burden their words carried to her.

So, she was glad for these rare moments of silence. She enjoyed the soft hissing of wind slipping down the hall, as well as the crackling of dying flames in the fireplaces.

She reached the door on her left that led to Skyhold’s rotunda and opened it. The circular room beyond was dark, just like the rest of the castle, and a pang of disappointment hit her. A small part of her had wished Solas would be awake, still working on his mural, but he was nowhere to be seen.

It’s alright, she told herself. You’ll see him tomorrow.

At least she hoped she would. Her entire relationship with Solas – if one wished to call it so – had been a constant back and forth between them. First, she had kissed him, but felt like she messed up. When she tried to withdraw from him, he held back and kissed her in return. Much later, he would come to her, admitting to having not forgotten what had happened between them, just to walk away from her. But not until they had kissed once more and he had said the words that turned her world upside down completely.

Ar lath, ma vhenan.

Her heart skipped a beat every time she remembered this moment. She was not certain if Solas had spoken in Elvish on purpose to conceal the meaning behind his words, or if he did it because he knew she would understand. Either way, she was very much aware of the meaning behind his words.

I love you.

Elenara felt her throat go tight. Solas was a mystery to her, one she would gladly like to figure out. But it would take time and if there was one thing she didn’t have in abundance, it was just that. For now, all she knew was that, if he’d stayed but a moment longer with her on that balcony, she’d told him how much she loved him in return.

You can wonder about this some other time, she thought, chiding herself like a child. Concentrate on what lies before you.

Letting out a sight, she crossed the room and slipped through the door to her left. Her steps echoed on the stone walls as she climbed the stairs to the rotunda’s upper floor.

The library was silent as well and the candles had been put out a good long while ago. Luckily, she knew where Helisma kept the flintstone she used to light them.

Elenara placed the stack of books on the chair Dorian usually occupied during his studies in the library and hurried over to the researcher’s desk. With only soft streaks of moonlight to illuminate the room, she had to fumble around before she found what she was looking for. With the flintstone in hand, she returned to Dorian’s reading nook and lit the candles on one of the candelabras. Their golden glow was soft and subtle, but it was enough to help her read the titles.

She turned to the pile of books and picked the one on top. It was a massive tome with golden letters ingrained on its cover and spine, an old Tevinter text Dorian had recommended to her to help her understand the inner workings of his homeland. The writing was so dry and tiresome, it had taken her ages to get through the text, but it had provided some insight into the cultural shift from the worshipping of the Old Gods to the Chantry, and that was good enough for her.

Scanning the spines, Elenara searched for the spot where the book was kept on the shelves. Thanks to Dorian, all of the books at Skyhold were sorted in alphabetical order which made the task of returning them to the library much easier. When she found the gap on one of the shelves where the Tevinter tome used to be, she put it back and returned to the rest of her stack.

She had just grabbed another book when she heard something. For a second, she believed it was a soldier or a servant walking from the tavern across the courtyard, but she dismissed the idea quickly. The sound had been much closer and much softer, not like the heavy cluck of booted feet.

“I see you are still awake,” someone said.

She whirled around on instinct, her senses on alert, her body ready to fight. Only then did she recognize the elven figure that moved closer from the other side of the library.

“Solas!”, she exclaimed and let out a sigh of relief. “Good Creators, you startled me!”

He chuckled softly as he stepped into the circle of soft candle light. The golden glow covered his face with stark shadows. “I’m sorry, vhenan,” he said wringing his hands. “I didn’t mean to.”

She let out a long, shuddering breath.

“It’s alright,” she told him with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Where did you come from? I thought you’d already gone to bed.”

“I was out on the balcony for some fresh air,” he said gesturing towards the door through which he’d entered the library. “Then I heard footsteps and concluded that it was you, so I came to see if you’re alright.”

“You knew that it was me … by my footsteps?” she asked, baffled.

“Of course.” He said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just… something a hunter might do, not a mage.”

“You should never underestimate my tracking skills, vhenan.” A sly smile tugged at his lips. “I survived on my own in the wilderness for a good long while, after all.”

For a moment, he seemed incredibly young. It made her think about a conversation she’d overheard back at the Storm Coast. She and the rest of her party had been tracking down a group of red templars that sought to gain a foothold in the area, when Blackwall and Solas had started to exchange war stories. She remembered the Grey Warden being delighted to share his experiences with another soldier, and also rather perplexed.

“For all your experience, Solas,” Blackwall had said. “You don’t carry yourself like a soldier.”

And Solas had beamed at the elder man. “Oh, you should have seen me when I was younger. Hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight.”

She’d never admitted to Solas that she, too, had had trouble picturing him as a warrior in full armor. But now … with this smile …

It made her want to kiss him, badly.

“Why are you still awake?”, she asked quickly.

“There was something wrong with the tea”, he replied and pressed his lips together for a moment. “It was caffeinated and kept me awake long after dark. Well, keeps me awake”, he clarified and looked around the empty library. “I am still waiting for the effect to wear off.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said and gave him a warm and soothing smile. She knew Solas found comfort in the Fade just like she used to find comfort in the old tales and legends of her people. Without it, life was much harder to endure.

“What about you?” he asked, looking at her intently.

She weighed the book in her hand and hurried to place it back on the shelves. “Couldn’t sleep either,” she admitted and was surprised by how tired she sounded. “There is just… so much to think about…”

Solas took another step towards her. Before she knew it, he reached around her with his left hand and placed it on her lower back. The faint smell of his skin lingered between them. Her heart jumped into her throat. Suddenly, she was very aware of his presence.

“If you like to share your thoughts with me, I’d be happy to listen,” he said in a quiet voice.

She coughed and looked away to avoid his gaze. His eyes were filled with such longing that it was almost too much to bare.

Studying the tomes on the shelf beside her, she said: “I’ve been reading all lot of these books lately. I had hoped to find some answers in the old text, but all it did was made me think. How can anyone do justice to this world? How can you set everything right, seeing all the bad things happening to good people?”

She sighed. “How am I supposed to do all this?” she asked in a much lower voice. Her throat went tight with grief and the crushing feeling of responsibility.

A saturnine look crossed his face. “I don’t know if I can provide a satisfying answer to your questions,” he said. “I’m not sure if anyone can. All we can do is trust in your capabilities to lead this Inquisition, for better or worse.”

Her lips twisted into a sad smile. “I was afraid you might say that.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, looking more troubled than she had ever seen him.

“Don’t be,” she replied. “It’s not like any of this is your fault.”

His hand on her back twitched ever so slightly, but she noticed it anyway. These days, she seemed to notice everything about him. The slight changes in his moods, the way he carried himself when he thought no one was looking. Even the expression of serene joy and delight when he was working on his mural. He was a miracle with a thousand little details and she wanted to know each and every one of them.

“Is there something on your mind?”, she asked. “You seemed to be on edge these last couple of weeks.”

That must be the biggest understatement in all of history, she thought to herself. Solas was always on edge, especially when he was alone with her.

“It is nothing to concern yourself with,” he said evasively and his gaze flicked to her lips. “My troubles will pass, one way or another.”

“Is there anything I can do to lift your spirits?” she asked teasingly.

“A kiss might be a good way to start,” he admitted after a short silence.

Elenara raised her eyebrows in surprise. Did she hear that correctly?

“Come here, then,” she said softly and turned until they stood face to face. Her heartbeat quickened, as she placed a hand on his cheek. He let his hand slip from her back to her waist, bringing up the other one to hold her tightly.

“It would be kinder in the long run,” he’d said the last time they kissed. Since then, his words had made her wonder what he truly meant. She knew there was something between them, he had admitted it himself. Yet, he was determined to not give in to his feelings for her. But why?

Was it because she was Dalish, still?

Back in Haven, he had confessed to her that the Dalish had attacked him on sight and that he had no desire to get in touch with the clans any longer. His words had caught her like a kick to the stomach. Though it had not been her own clan who had attacked Solas, she knew it might has well have been them. She herself had fought off countless bandits in her time as a hunter.

Yet, she knew that the clans were only protecting themselves and more often than not, they had good reasons to be suspicious of strangers. But the thought of Solas being wounded by a Dalish arrow had left her feeling guilty and distressed. She wanted him to see the many admirable attributes of her people in the faint hope it would make him feel less lonely. To show him that there was no reason to be afraid of them.

Of her.

“My heart,” she breathed, caressing his lips with her thumb. She smiled at him, then guided his face towards hers. He allowed Elenara to brush her lips against his, while he drew long breaths through his nose. And she drank from him, relishing the taste of his mouth.

When she was out of breath, she pulled back ever so slightly, resting her forehead against his. Letting out a quiet satisfied moan, she let her hands slide down to his chest. He was breathing just as heavily as she was. His chest heaved under her touch.

“I enjoy kissing you far too much,” he said with a soft smile. His breath smelled of honey and herbs, sweet and delightful.

Elenara tilted her head to look at him. Was that regret in his voice?

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

His cheeks colored. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” he hurried to say. “It’s just... I’m not …”

“… used to it,” she said, finishing the sentence for him. “I know. We should do this more often, then.” She let her lips touch his once more. It was not a kiss, not quite, but it set her body on fire nonetheless. “Besides, I enjoy kissing you, too.”

She pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His body tensed and for a moment it seemed like he wanted to flee from her, but when she opened her mouth and deepened the kiss, he finally relaxed. Accepting the invitation, his lips parted and his tongue entered her mouth.

There was the passion she’d first experienced back in their shared dream in the Fade. It washed over her like a rising tide, almost sweeping her off her feet. She returned his kisses with the same fire, losing herself in the embrace. She couldn’t tell if his hunger was greater than hers or if it was the other way around. All she knew was that they both wanted more, fully aware of the fact that no kiss would never be enough.

“I want you,” he whispered.

His body was radiating heat like a bonfire. She wanted to take it all in, even if she might get burned in the process. All her life, she had waited to meet someone like him. Someone that made her feel alive.

“I want you, too,” she said and kissed one corner of his mouth. He sighed softly, his eyes half-closed. It was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard in her entire life – and she wanted more of it.

With the greatest effort, she let go of him.

Elenara took his hands and squeezed them gently. “Come with me,” she said, nodding in the vague direction of the Inquisitor’s tower. Up there, in her chambers, they could continue what they had started in a more private setting.

“I don’t think…”

“Lady Inquisitor!”

She flinched.

That was Leliana’s voice!

In an instant, Solas parted from her and took a step back. The lack of his warmth right next to her hurt more than she would like to admit. “Don’t…” she gasped, but Solas simply shook his head.

“You have other matters to attend to.”

She knew he was right. If Leliana needed to speak to her at this hour of the night, it must be important. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

She only hoped her face didn’t look as warm as it felt.

“Goodnight, Inquisitor,” Solas said in a casual tone and took another step back. He bowed ever so slightly just when Leliana reached the top of the stairs. The spymaster stopped dead in her tracks and watched as the elven apostate turned on his heels and headed in the opposite direction.

Elenara felt like her heart would tear apart at any moment, when she forced herself to look at Leliana. “How can I help you?”

Leliana stared, as if she had forgotten, why she wanted to speak to Elenara in the first place. Her eyes were fixed on the doorway through which Solas had made his exit.

“Leliana?”

The spymaster blinked, her focus returning to Elenara.

“Oh, yes! I’m sorry” she said and squared her shoulders. “I have news from Halamshiral, my lady. You should look into this.”

Right back in the mess, Elenara thought as she followed Leliana up the stairs to her office.

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Thanks for reading. <3

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanfic #solas #lavellan #female lavellan #solavellan #in relationship #solas romance #fluff #mild hurt/comfort #elenara lavellan

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veridium · 5 years

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favorite passage ever written

I was tagged by the wonderful @bitchesofostwick and @melaena to share my favorite excerpt of anything I’ve written. So, after staring at the screen terrified for 20 minutes, I realized my favorites change a lot. As of right now, I have to say, this is a ficlet I love to sit back and reread ever so often to remind myself of Olivia’s spunk.

This is a one-shot I wrote in the universe where Theia is Inquisitor and Olivia is her friend and apothecary mage for the Inquisition. Her love affair with Cassandra had gotten out in the midst of deliberations for Divine Justinia V’s successor, and the Chantry sends a Revered Mother to interrogate interview Olivia and get a look at her. Considering her fraught reputation it was of particular importance, and Olivia dishes out some stone-cold sass. I love it and I love her. So, enjoy!

I tag @daydreamingdragonage, @mybookswerealltome, and @dickeybbqpit to share theirs if they have not already and wish to!

“Deliberations” Excerpt:

Mother Diane grinned. “I am sure. Truthfully, I only have a handful of questions for you. Should you answer them honestly, I will be satisfied.”

“Surely. What do you wish to know, Revered Mother?”

Mother Diane seemed to be contemplating an awkward question, trying to find the most euphemistically graceful way of posing it. Olivia could read the discomfort like an open book page, and a corner of her mouth cracked a grin. How long would it be before the question of her sex life was brought front-and-center? She wondered, but she knew it was only a matter of minutes, to be sure.

“I assume, my Lady, that you have been made aware of Lady Adalia Ferndale’s accusations of your character and past experiences as a Mage. Such allegations have caught our attention, however, we do not wish to be partisan in our view. The Maker loves and protects us all, in our imperfections. I wish to ask for your testimony in the face of these claims.”

“And what, pray tell, are the accusations you are referring to, specifically?”

“That...well…” Mother Diane pursed her lips, feeling the torn nature of her duty to be honest, but conservative. “That you spent your time in the Ostwick Circle tempting Templars to sin. That, in the wake of the Rebellion, you and your peers traveled as rogue criminals, thieving and distracting innocents to idleness. That you utilized the charms of your body and carnal nature as a woman and a Mage to illicit compensation in the form of money and gifts. That you corrupted Lady Adalia’s husband into a lucid state of ineptness, wherein she had to intervene in order to preserve her household whilst you distracted his energies using your...talents. That, now that you are here working for the Inquisition, you have become delinquent in your moral recuperation and penance in order to pursue the Seeker as a lover, distracting her virtues as an Andrastian in the process.”

Olivia’s eyes remained fixed on the Mother as she listed out the malicious docket of claims. Deep down, she wished to laugh like a giddy fool, because to some degree each and every claim had truth to it. But, in true Chantry form, understanding the perspective of those who need to survive comes laced with counterintuitive snobbery.

There was a pause of silence, wherein Olivia allowed the list to simmer the tension in the air. Then, she smiled, as if she wished to put all nerves to ease with her guile.

“Well, Revered Mother, that is quite an...artistic, selection of crimes.”

“You have an interesting choice of words, my Lady.”

Olivia nodded once, before rising to her feet again. “Before I answer, may I pour you some wine or water from Her Worship’s reserve?” Olivia motioned towards the end table with two pitchers at the ready, one full of booze, the other of room-temperature water. The Revered Mother agreed to water, of course, remaining true to temperance.

Poised and prim, Olivia made her way to the table and poured two chalices, one of water and one of wine. Her hands were that of a properly-trained and subserviant Courtesan, who had to do this procedure as often as she had to breathe. She returned with one in each hand, and glided towards Mother Diane, extending her cup to her.

After Mother Diane took her water and sipped lightly, Olivia returned to her seat, holding her own chalice close to her chest. She waited to take her first sip.

“I am afraid Lady Adalia’s claims come from a most salacious exploitation of my confidence in her as a friend and employee. She hired me originally as a servant woman after she found me working for a Mercantile trader along the coast of the Free Marches. Her husband, the late Lord Ferndale, was a most abusive and trifling man, and she enlisted my capabilities as a apothecary in order to subdue his moods, to the betterment of all. I acted in compassion, not in lust.”

Mother Diane’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t look ready to argue. “I see. That is a most unfortunate circumstance.”

Olivia then took her inaugural sip of wine, nodding as she swallowed. “Yes. Truth be told, I do not blame Lady Adalia for her malice. Such a life can breed unrest and unkindness in our souls. I wish her well, and am sorry to have had this ordeal entangle us both.”

“You are most empathetic, Lady Olivia. What of her other claims, then? If she, as you say, exploited your confidence in her, does it then follow that what she says is true?”

“And what if it was, Revered Mother? What, then?”

A tense silence followed Olivia’s shift in tone from cordial to contentious. Mother Diane tried hard to maintain a decorous expression, whilst Olivia searched for a crack in the facade with her despondent-looking eyes. Her chalice rested on her lap, cupped by both hands.

“We would be concerned that someone of such experiences would have unideal ambitions for aligning themselves with the next Divine. Being the Most Holy means working for the best interests of all Thedas, and not simply the perspectives of the few. If the Seeker is surrounding herself with those who have less than pure purposes, it is our responsibility to ascertain and understand.”

Olivia then giggled, her trademark tactic for making her opponents become off-put. Seeing Mother Diane frown, she knew it had its desired effect.

“Revered Mother, tell me, how many mistresses has the Chantry neglected to recount in its histories of all the Divines that have ever been?”

“Lady Olivia, I am not sure I understand what you’re alluding to.”

“Oh, of course you do. Everyone does, surely. Let me see if my meek mind can conjure some truth, then, since you seem to be stumbling. There was...oh, Divine Rosamund was known for her lewd tastes in erotica. How many lovers did she bed in her tenure whilst the Chantry quivered in their robes?”

“Divine Rosamund had other qualities besides her taste in art, Lady Olivia. She was trained and mentored for her succession her entire life.”

“Yes, and she was also the muse for what I have heard to be some of the most delicious erotica in the Exalted Age.”

Mother Divine swallowed stiffly, her cover starting to crack. “Does this mean, then, that you admit to your reputation?”

“I thought my reputation was one of congeniality and magnanimity, Revered Mother? If so, I wholeheartedly do.”

“I was referring to your promiscuity and proclivity for radical political sympathies, Lady Olivia.”

Olivia remained quiet. She turned her eyes towards the fire, and put the rim of her chalice to her lips. Her eyes glazed a bit as she got what she wanted: the pomp broken down, and the true motivation behind her interrogation brought to light. The Chantry would never like the idea of a Divine going to bed with a former Courtesan who had become notable for her defense of Mage rights. Such a combination was a liability: she could see the street artwork now, the mock portraits of Cassandra, Divine Victoria, sitting tall on the Sunburst Throne with a woman dressed in Orleisian lingerie hiding behind it, reaching out to her heart and her sympathies. It churned her stomach to feel so objectified even in a hypothetical sense, and that in turn made her angry.

She took a rushed gulp of wine, letting it rest on her tongue so the bitterness would distract her fury. After swallowing it down, she turned her attention back to her conversational partner.

“Mother Diane, I do not pretend to adhere to conservative virtue with regards to Mages. I am, after all, one of them. I am also Orleisian by birth and heritage, so I am more intimately aware of just how much the Chantry sits on its hands whilst violence is inflicted on us for the sake of control and “peace.” Magic may serve man, not rule over him, ‘tis that right? Well, what would the Maker have us do when the Chantry merely deposes Magic as a ruler in favor of Oppression?”

Mother Diane’s brow furrowed. “The Circles have been an enforcement of order and purpose in the lives of Mages and Thedas as a whole, Lady Olivia. However, with their disbandment, I hardly think it wise to deliberate such topics now, before we know what the next Divine may wish to do once she is coronated.”

Olivia scoffed. “I understand that well enough, Revered Mother. In fact, the Orleisian in my blood is roaring with wisdom. I know exactly why you wish to know my truth: because you see Sister Leliana’s radical sympathies as a most unsavory option, and you have contemplated Seeker Pentaghast as a centrist alternative. However, my sudden appearance and proximity to her has curtailed the ease of your choice. I am the great outlier you wish to understand so that you may figure whether she will reevaluate her loyalties, or remain loyal to Andrastian doctrine.”

Mother Diane remained quiet, her face stone-cold and unforgiving in its impatience, now. In return, Olivia softly smiled.

“I see I have cut to the bone of the limb, haven’t I?”

“Your brazen temper is most unnecessary, my Lady. You have merely the task of being honest in adherence to your conscience. All of this theatrical discussion of history and radicalism is besides the point. We have a duty to the Empires and to the faith to uplift a Divine who can be a capable and compassionate figure for people to look to during such difficult and uncertain times: a leader who can unite Andrastians with the goal of peace, first and foremost.”

“I can think of no two finer people for such a role, then. Sister Leliana has put her life on the line in service of all Thedas, as Seeker Pentaghast has done, as well. My position and opinions are a mere splatter of color on the corner of the portrait of her life. She served her Most Holy Divine Justinia with dedication and virtue. Surely, that is enough to qualify her in lieu of any influence I may have on her.”

“It only takes one new color to distort the image of an entire landscape.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, then. She leaned forward, setting her chalice that was not mostly empty on the table in between them.

“I will never forget all of the men I let between my legs who had charms of Andraste on chains around their necks. All of the men I have let penetrate me, who took the Maker’s name in vain whilst they did so. I will never forget the way they growled, the way they smiled with smug pleasure as I straddled them, a sinful and lewd Mage woman. The way they took me once, twice, thrice even in one night. The way they never once mentioned their wives and families waiting at home for them to return. The way they begged for me to use my Magic to warm or chill their skin, the way they wished my powers to be used for their carnal tastes. The way they paid with coin that could have just as easily gone to Coffers. You know, Revered Mother, many times I found myself wondering how I survived my life in the Circle whilst being such a fool: After all, it took so many years for me to realize I could have been compensated for my being fucked over, whilst the Chantry was able to do it for free.”

Mother Diane’s eyes widened with each new statement Olivia made, the shock of her brutal honesty leaving her dumbfounded. No one had the gaul to speak in such ways to a Revered Mother of the faith, surely. But, there she was, Olivia in all her erotic glory. And she did it with a most pleasant smile.

“Lady Olivia, you have offended me in the most disturbing of ways. How dare you speak with such false impugnity to a ranking member of the Chantry?!” the raised anger in her voice betraying the decorum of the conversation.

Olivia remained undaunted and unimpressed. “And how dare you, Mother Diane, suggest that I ever had the power or the agency to deny a Templar’s taste in their formal captives. That I had the ability to tempt them and bed them as if they posed no danger to my life? That I had anything left to my name but my body to give in return for money to survive? You come here, all the way from the Capitol -- a four, five days ride at minimum? To question me with your entitlement to my life and my truth, and I am the one who has dared beyond sensibility?”

“If you choose to associate yourself with a servant of the Chantry who stands to ascend to the role of Divine, then you have no justification for desiring the privacy of a common person. In your platform and tastes for human flesh, you implicate your soul.”

“Then throw my body to the pyre when the day comes, Revered Mother, and watch me burn. I know you must be haunted by nightmares of how many bodies of Mages, of Elves, of those left behind by the Chantry’s ceremonial apathy. Only a person without a heart would sleep well with that knowledge.”

Both women rose to their feet, keen to stand tall for their respective views. Olivia glared with unabashed confidence now, whilst Mother Diane’s judgement brewed in her eyes.

“I see now. I see quite clearly just what Seeker Pentaghast must feel attracted to in you. You are spirited, clever, and beautiful. But, if she has any loyalty to the principles of her faith and position, she will evaluate such a choice.”

“Is that a threat, then? Will you depose her name from deliberations on my account? You would throw away one of the foremost qualified people for Divine, even after all the people you have lost?”

“The scarcity of our options cannot make us bend into the direction of an unwise choice.”

“Really, Revered Mother? Tell me, have you asked for a Harlot’s perspective on that sage advice? Because I can testify confidently that when it is between letting yourself and your friends starve, and having money for bread at the risk of your bodily safety, there was no scripture I could remember from my Andrastian upbringing that made me feel exalted for my selflessness and self-sacrifice. I cried for Andraste’s mercy many a night, but when the dawn came, it was one of the three other Mage women who’s holy hands picked me up off the ground.”

“The Maker comes to us through each other, Lady Olivia. Only, I fear the Seeker has believed that in welcoming you into her life, when you clearly are most unsympathetic to her faith as a cornerstone of her existence.”

“On the contrary, Mother Diane. I respect her choice, and I challenge her to be better than the institution she is loyal to. Such is our duty to one another as people: to witness and help each other become the best people we can be. That is one of the many reasons I fell for her, because she has taught me not to lower my chin to anyone who presumes to know more about my experiences than myself. Not even Revered Mothers who come to my residence, compel my friends to offer me up as a polished maiden ready for testimony, so that she may have her traumatic past cut, sliced, and diced for the sampling. Now, if you excuse me,” Olivia then shifted her weight to face the opposite direction, flattening out her dress skirts with her hands, “I must be returning to my work in the Tower. The Inquisition does not have ample time for us to sit amongst ourselves and slander each other over wine, I am afraid.”

Olivia began to head for the stairs, ready to be done with it all. From behind, she heard Mother Diane call after her:

“Lady Olivia, if you do not collect yourself and resolve this argument with me in the way that is proper, I will be forced to make your disrespect known to the Inquisitor herself.”

Olivia stopped in her tracks. She tilted her chin up, biting back a laugh. Turning to face Mother Diane from her the side, she raised a brow.

“Mother Diane, there is absolutely nothing astonishing about my behavior towards you that the Inquisitor will not understand. But I will say this: if you punish Seeker Pentaghast for my temper, after all she has committed and sacrificed in the name of the Chantry and the Maker, you will be far and away the bigger fools than I. It would be quite par for the course, now, wouldn’t it? The Chantry blaming a Mage for all the trouble. I can hardly imagine that would be smart politics in this current climate, though. Best take care not to bury the Circles, or the Chantry’s relationship with powerful Mages across Thedas, further into the ground than it already is. I wonder where the Hero of Fereldan, the Champion of Kirkwall, or the Inquisitor, all Mages -- or, for that matter, either of your contenders for Divine, who have taken Mages for lovers, would feel about such a partisan choice.”

And with that, Olivia scanned the Revered Mother up and down, a sign of resigned aggravation. Then, she turned and made her exit once and for all. Behind her, Mother Diane looked ready to spew steam from her ears, infuriated with the gross candor she had been answered with.

As Olivia shut the door behind her, she saw that Theia had been awaiting the end in the hallway, careful not to stay too far away.

“Olivia, you’re done already?” she said, turning around to face her.

Olivia shrugged, seeming to have just walked out of the most casual conversation of her life. “Of course, Theia. What did you expect, an interrogation?”

“Well, yes, that is what they were here for, at least. What...oh, Maker, what did you do?”

“Theia, calm yourself,” Olivia smirked, walking past her and patting her on the shoulder as she did so. “I hardly left a scratch. Just be careful, I may have incited an Exalted March onto the Seeker’s bed chambers.”

#writing tag #writing stuff #mutuals!!#favorite passage #this WAS SO HARD TO CHOOSE #but I just love it okay #Theia is so done but so proud at the same time #and Olivia is that smug girlfriend #I just love it

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katalyna-rose · 7 years

Text

Forbidden

Rating: Mature

Solavellan

Tags: Angst, Post-Break Up, Deep Roads, The Descent DLC

Summary: A Dalish elf who has spent her entire life outside in the sun doesn't do well underground for extended periods of time, especially while also forced to spend this time with the man who broke her heart. Yet even though he left her and hurt her so deeply, her love and attraction for him have not waned. And neither, it seems, have his feelings for her. After what happened between them, any intimacy is forbidden. It cannot change what happened, only hurt them both all over again. But that doesn't seem to stop them.

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After nearly a month in the Deep Roads without sunlight or any food that didn’t consist mostly of bioluminescent mushrooms, Lyna was beginning to feel physically ill. She’d spent her entire life outdoors and all this time underground was torture. They had spent most of the trip in a constant state of uncertainty, no way to know how much further they were going or what they would find or how long it would be until they could head back up. The only comfort Lyna had was that they were finally going to return.

The Titan had been… magnificent. It was truly a marvel, beyond anything she could have ever imagined. The happiest she’d felt on this whole trip was when she was trying to figure out where the light came from in the Wellspring. It was gloriously close to sunlight, though it wasn’t quite as nourishing, and she had basked in it for as long as she could excuse herself to do so. She’d been uncertain about leaving Valta behind, but in the end she’d known better than to try to force the Shaper to do anything she didn’t want to.

They still had another week in the Deep Roads, and tempers were short. Even Cole seemed affected by it, unusually quiet and sullen. Varric’s jokes had become progressively angrier and more aggressive as the days wore on, until he was making crude and sarcastic remarks rather than jokes. Cassandra spent most of her time with her head in her hands as though she had a migraine, but no amount of healing magic seemed to help her. Lyna was feeling nauseous and her muscles ached in a strange way. And Solas… She had known that bringing him on such a long trip in close quarters would be awkward, but she hadn’t expected how tense things had become.

His skin was turning gray, looking less healthy every day, and he hadn’t so much as looked at her in days unless whatever skirmish they were fighting gave him no choice. At first, it had seemed that they would manage to remain civil to each other, even cordial, but as time wore on and they both began to feel worse the fragile civility they had maintained had crumbled. If they interacted at all, it was with terse words and biting insults. It was tearing Lyna apart, though Solas seemed infuriatingly unmoved. He had always been good at hiding his feelings from her, after all.

***

“This place is awful,” Solas grumbled, attempting to knock mud and what looked suspiciously like animal droppings off his boot.

“Oh, look, something we can agree on,” Lyna quipped from her position by the fire, stirring their pot of dinner. It was an unappealing gray color, but it would keep them nourished.

“If we may also agree not to argue this evening, I would appreciate it,” Solas said, his tone biting. He was scowling at his boots, refusing to look at her as usual.

“But it’s the closest thing to entertainment I can get down here!” Lyna cried mockingly.

“And it is driving me insane,” Cassandra groaned, rubbing her temples.

“Because you weren’t already, Seeker?” Varric quipped. Cassandra made a disgusted noise. Cole fidgeted at the edge of the firelight and Lyna sighed. As much as she wanted to really lay into Solas, she knew she was making this that much more difficult for the others. She looked at Solas, contemplating her options. They should probably talk, try to figure out how to return to their previous façade of civility.

Once they had all choked down as much of the stew as they could manage, all of them desperate for some real food, Lyna screwed up her courage and approached Solas. “I’d like to talk to you in private for a moment,” she said softly. He sighed and didn’t look at her, then nodded and stood. She led him into a nearby side passage that she knew ended in a small cavern with no other ways in or out, not looking back to see if he followed. She stopped in the middle of the cavern and stayed facing away from him.

“We still have another week down here, Solas,” she said finally. “I’d rather we survived each other until we reach the surface, at least.”

“As would I,” he said softly, scant feet away though a vast distance lay between them. “Yet we cannot seem to stop sniping at each other.” Lyna sighed.

“It is not an easy thing to have you here like this,” she told him sadly.

“Then why did you ask me to come?” She barked a laugh.

“You are an exceptionally powerful mage and a truly gifted healer, as you well know,” she said. “I thought that both of those traits would be useful on this trip, and I was quite right.”

“I was surprised when you did not ask Dorian to accompany you, instead,” he said softly rather than rising to the bait that her caustic tone provided.

“Dorian is a dear friend, but he is no healer,” she reminded him, her tone slightly softer. “After the fight with the Guardian, can you honestly tell me that I made the wrong choice in bringing you?” She could picture in her mind, as clearly as if she saw it though her back was still turned to him, the way his lips would twist in a grimace as he remembered frantically healing Cole’s many crushed bones.

“No,” he said finally. “I cannot say that.”

“Vivienne is a better healer than Dorian, but she is still arranging Bastien’s affairs, and I didn’t want to take her from that for as long as I knew this trip would take,” she continued, wrapping her arms around herself. It was almost more difficult to be civil with him than to fight. It hurt more, made her nausea worse to the point that she worried about keeping her dinner down. “As uncomfortable as this is for us both, it was still the best option. Besides, can you honestly tell me that it wasn’t worth it to see the Titan? To learn all of this first hand rather than reading it in reports later? I thought you would have enjoyed collecting all this history and the memories here. Though the Fade is harder to access this far underground, there have been some truly interesting things to see, haven’t there?”

“Yes, there have been. You are right,” he said. Disgusted, she finally turned to him only to find his gaze locked on a nearby stalagmite.

“You could at least do me the honor of looking at my face,” she said, her temper snapping again. She marched a few steps closer, desperate for some form of acknowledgement. She saw his jaw clench before he finally raised his gaze to hers for the first time in almost two weeks.

“I expected you to stop asking me to accompany you after… what happened between us,” he admitted. She scowled.

“Why? I am not too proud to acknowledge your strengths and all the many ways in which you benefit the Inquisition,” she said.

“I would not have been surprised if you had retaliated, asked me to leave…” he told her, and her mouth dropped open.

“You could at least pretend to acknowledge that I attempt to be a good person!” she shouted, what remained of her temper utterly lost. “You think I would cast you out for spurning me? Lock you in a Circle, perhaps? You think I am so without honor or compassion that I would do that to anyone? My own mother is a mage, Solas, and I would sooner die than see her imprisoned for her magic! I would sooner die than see you imprisoned for it! I would see Leliana become Divine in part because I know that she would abolish the Circles entirely, allow the mages to be treated like people by society, even welcome elves and dwarves and Qunari into the Chantry! She would treat the peoples of Thedas like people and I would see that ideal come to fruition. Yet you stand there and accuse me of being no better than the Templars?”

“Do not put words into my mouth!” he cried, stepping forward aggressively. Some part of Lyna’s mind became aware of the fact that they were now within arm’s reach of each other, but it was quickly drowned out by her anger. “I said nothing of mages or of locking anyone away! I merely stated that I expected you to keep more of a distance.”

“If that is what you would prefer, you only have to say so,” Lyna ground out between her teeth. “I am not arrogant enough to believe that I could hold you if you wished to leave. That much has been made perfectly clear to me.”

“Has it?” Solas asked, fury lighting his features. They were only inches away from each other, both breathing heavily. “You are Inquisitor and I am but a humble hedge mage. Do you not have a hold?”

“I have never exerted power over you, Solas!” she reminded him. “I never wanted this position or title! I never wanted this power! I have done my best to use it wisely, but I have never used it against an individual and never for personal gain. You know that!”

They were silent for a few heartbeats, glaring at each other from only inches away as tension built between them, heat and static making the fine hairs on Lyna’s arms stand up. And then he was kissing her, his mouth hot and desperate on hers, teeth biting her lips until they stung. His arms wrapped around her waist, yanking her against his body and holding her tight. Her arms, which she had initially raised to shove him away, ended up wound around his neck, her nails digging into his scalp and holding him to her, her tongue just as aggressive as his. It was a mistake, she knew it was, yet she couldn’t pull away. As Solas began to rock his hips against hers, grinding them together to make heat and arousal shoot into her core, she held him tighter and decided that she didn’t care. She needed this, needed him, and even though it would only last for a moment before he withdrew from her again she would take whatever she could get and embrace the pain that would inevitably follow. His hand tangled in her hair and held her head at a new angle to allow him to devour her, her lips stinging and sore, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as if he was fucking her, heat gathering between her legs as he rocked against her and the stiff heat of his cock pressed insistently into her belly, and she wanted nothing more than to make this last forever.

She whimpered slightly when he bit her lip again and it broke the spell between them. He flung himself away from her, both of them panting heavily and shaking. He turned away, but didn’t flee as she expected him to. She wrapped her arms around her stomach as though the pressure would keep her dinner where it belonged, but the nausea pressed insistently at her throat. Solas scrubbed his face, sighing deeply.

“I apologize,” he said, his voice hoarse and barely louder than a whisper. “That was… ill-considered. I should not have encouraged it.”

“You kissed me,” she reminded him. He was silent for a moment.

“Yes,” he acknowledged, surprising her. “I apologize.”

“It changes nothing, right?” she asked, feeling near tears, the exhaustion and strain of the past month, since he’d left her naked and alone, combining with this final taste of his passion to make her feel bereft, empty.

“It cannot change anything,” he murmured, desperation and something like agony in his tone. Then he left, leaving her behind yet again.

Only once she knew he could not hear her did she release the tight control she’d maintained over herself. Her dinner came back up violently, and she continued to heave even after there was nothing left for her body to expel. Cole found her while she was like this, bent over her own sick and sobbing. He pressed a damp cloth against her hot face and rubbed her back soothingly until she leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

“It changes everything,” he murmured.

“Then why?” she sobbed, clutching at him.

“Because you deserve better.”

“But I want him.”

“I know,” he told her softly. “But it can’t change his mind. He won’t let it. It is forbidden.”

“But I love him,” she whispered, barely giving the words voice, as afraid of them as she was incapable of denying them.

“Haunting, hurting, heaving in the dark. Taste of her lips and texture of her tongue, silken strands still caught on my fingers, too beautiful for words. Eyes that beg me to stay, want to lose myself in her and forget. Strong hands to cup my face, kiss away her tears and stay forever. He knows.”

But it was forbidden.

#katalyna writes #solavellan #solas x lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #the descent dlc

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