Happy Friday x3 I'd love to see: I still remember how you taste for Dadwc, and maybe with m Lavellan/Solas if you are in the mood for it x3 Happy creating <3
Ohhhh yissss, I'm exactly in the mood for some Solavellan angst. Thanks for the prompt and happy Friday, Spicy! Here's my villain Inquisitor and Solas meeting in the Fade, the prompt is slightly modified.
Solas x M!Lavellan
Rating M for violent imagery and war
for @dadrunkwriting
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“Mahanon.”
The voice stops him dead in his tracks. What was he even watching? A few quick blinks and the surroundings blur, leaving one person sharp and colourful in a sea of now-monochrome crowd.
“Solas,” he breathes, and for once he can wrestle himself from the role of a spectator in his dreams. The frozen figures of his imagination implode into dust as he stalks through them, headed towards his love.
Soon they stand close enough to touch, but…
“It's been a long time, Solas,” Mahanon says, his fingers squeezing into a tight fist he pockets. Fighting the urge to hug Solas, or worse yet, kiss him.
A sad smile curls on Solas' lips. “You've been waiting for me?”
“Of course,” Mahanon scoffs, though it's not anger. Not really. “I've waited my whole life for someone like you, and then you just…”
He throws his hands in the air. Even here, under the waxy black sky, he can't say it.
“I still remember everything. Your touch. Your voice. Your taste.” Mahanon sighs, the oft-played memories flashing in his mind as he stares in Solas’ eyes. “How could you just… forget about me?”
Mahanon notes the way he takes a half step back, how his brows furrow.
With a flick of Solas’ hand, their surroundings shift from deep emptiness into a field of battle. Corpses lay on the ground, cries of desperation pierce the air. The stench of burning flesh closes in like claws, but Mahanon's attention shifts back to Solas.
“What?”
Solas blinks a couple of times, his mouth turning downwards. He shakes his head, looks up to Mahanon.
“Do you not see?” His hand draws an arc, gesturing at the burning field. “This is why I've had to forget about you. You and I, we do not stand for the same thing.”
Mahanon's hands flex at his sides. For once, he's silent, waiting for the inevitable blow.
“You do this,” he points at a phantom clutching a grievous wound, “because you enjoy it. You cut through—”
“I don't enjoy it!” Mahanon growls, teeth bared. “I have to! I have no choice!”
Solas stays silent for a moment, a finger rising to his lips. Then, quietly, “Then what is your end goal?”
Mahanon crosses his arms on his chest, closing his eyes. That's… a good question, one he's never quite found the answer to.
There's one thing he knows for sure. “I'm lost without you.”
“You were already lost when you were with me.” Solas’ jaw tightens, his posture stiffening. “There's nothing I can do for you.”
Everything fades to black without a warning, and when Mahanon's eyes open, it's to stare at a ceiling he knows all too well. His castle, quickly falling back to disrepair.
The fireplace is nothing but embers at this time of night, but he shelters by its fading warmth. Reports from the warfront already in his hands as he tries to shake the nightmare.
To think of it as anything else would be unacceptable.
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