Chapter Text
It wasn’t easy to find solitude in Skyhold.
Agents and allies were arriving daily as the power of the Inquisition expanded. Additional tents popped into the yard, chairs grew crowded around tables, and lines formed when meals were served.
For Solas, this was regrettable. Annoying, even.
Thankfully, the raised path outside his rotunda remained mostly forgotten. Morning mist still chilled the air when the elf took to his corner ledge. Like a spider in its little web, he hid in plain sight. In pale sunlight, Solas watched the horses graze by the stables.
Peaceful creatures, he thought. They know not their fate, and yet they are content.
He closed his eyes, filling his lungs with the crisp scent of dew. The sound of iron hinges squeaking as he exhaled had him quickly glaring.
The elf turned his head to see what dared to disturb his silent routine.
Facing the mountains together stood Commander Cullen and… Ellana Lavellan. Solas couldn’t see her face, but the figure gave her away: petite yet feminine in body, and a bounce of inky hair above the shoulders, elven ears poking through.
The apostate had watched her from afar so often, he was certain he could point her out in a sea of Dalish. She moved with grace, with purpose, and - for some infuriating reason now - toward Cullen.
The Commander placed a hand on her shoulder, nodding as he quietly spoke. Solas sank into his spot, arms crossed. If the pair were facing the courtyard, there was no doubt he’d be able to hear their conversation. But their words were lost, just muffled tones against the high winds.
For about two weeks, Solas and Ellana had been in an awkward dance of boundaries. He was punishing himself for his abandonment of inhibitions, for losing himself in kissing her on her balcony.
The Inquisitor knew. She’d put out her request for travel companions: Cassandra, Dorian, Iron Bull…anyone but him. They’d share a terrible gaze from across The Great Hall, a tempestuous and wordless exchange.
Solas was flushed with emotion, any peace from his morning ritual gone.
If the other elf knew he was trying to resist her for both of their sakes, perhaps she wouldn’t be laughing at whatever Cullen just said.
The first time he heard Ellana’s high giggle, it sent shivers to the tips of his pointed ears. Wind chimes in a summer breeze.
Now, though? Now it left him feeling as though he’d been doused in cold water.
Solas could sense a lull in the conversation, and darted for cover in the nearby alcove. He certainly couldn’t have anyone spotting him.
With a final - highly unnecessary - shoulder pat to the Inquisitor, Cullen retreated to his little fort. Ellana trailed in the other direction, a determination across her freckled face.
Back in the rotunda, Solas steadied his breath. With fists clenched at his sides, he studied the progression of his murals: Dozens of red eyes, all-seeing. The great maw of the wolf, open and at the ready. A shadowed figure, something hidden in its grip.
Perhaps it was time for a change of plans.
“Ow!”
“I said hold still!”
Inquisitor Ellana turned from her spot by the cliffside at the sound of bickering. Dorian was hunched above a weary Blackwall, who had a gash across his temple.
“Think I’d rather try the potion,” the swordsman mumbled.
Dorian huffed at this, turning to the Inquisitor. “Why didn’t you bring the healer? You know this isn’t my thing.”
She shifted, crossing her arms. It had been a long day on the Storm Coast, and the group was damp and tired. Varric was already holed up in his tent, and no one could seem to keep a fire going. All the while, the sun had sunk beyond the violent ocean.
“I thought you didn’t like traveling with Solas,” she retorted.
The mage scoffed, leaning on his staff. “There are many things I don’t enjoy about the bald know-it-all. When we get back, I’ll make you a list .”
The rogue was digging through her bag, and paused at Dorian’s name-calling. She shot him a disapproving glance as she handed Blackwall her last healing potion.
“We’re leaving at first light,” she addressed them both, subtly reminding who was in charge, “so I suggest you rest.”
Back in her tent, Ellana sighed. She was still adjusting to being the face of the Inquisition, and talking about Solas made her heart thump with anxiety. They hadn’t had a proper moment alone since the spiral of desire on her balcony.
The elf played it in her mind for the thousandth time as she peeled off her wet clothes: Grabbing his arm, the flash of pain in his eyes before he crushed his body to hers, the heat of his kiss, the slip of his tongue -
“Careful with that kind of talk, friend.”
Blackwall’s deep voice outside brought the Inquisitor back to reality.
“Oh come on,” Dorian’s hushed whisper responded. “It’s no secret he despises me.”
How quickly humans forget the keen hearing of elves, Ellana thought. Despite the rain against her tent and the sound of crashing waves, she could hear their words perfectly.
“Not that,” Blackwall groaned, probably getting to his feet. “The way you discuss him in front of her. Some people seem to think they’re…y’know…”
The elf, in her fresh blouse, felt her stomach flip. She could imagine the Grey Warden doing some kind of hand motion.
“Oh you’ve got to be joking,” Dorian was dismissive with disbelief.
“Ask Varric in the morning. He’s the one who saw Solas leaving her quarters all fast and flushed.”
Ellana was frozen, eyes wide.
“How scandalous ,” the mage savored the word, delighted at the prospect of gossip. “I can’t even picture it!”
“I know.”
There was a bitter edge to Blackwall’s response that surprised her. Back in Haven, she took the warden saying there was no woman like her as a compliment of leadership. But perhaps… he had meant it differently?
The two men finally ended the torturous conversation and said their goodnights. Meanwhile, the elf laid in her bedroll, aggravated. It was difficult to feel dignified when her companions were whispering behind her back.
She often felt like an imposter, like there was someone else this was supposed to be happening to - someone with experience, who was confident that they truly were the chosen one.
Eventually, the exhaustion weighed heavy on her eyelids, and the sound of rain tapping on canvas lulled her troubled mind to sleep.
Warm sun, kissing her skin.
It was a wonderful feeling, after the chill of the aggressive sea and storms. Ellana’s eyes fluttered open. She was in one of her childhood bedrooms, in her clan. Plants littered the space, cascading around her. A warm breeze welcomed the sleepy Dalish, with the scent of earth and blooming flowers. Bright morning light bathed the elf, and the sound of familiar birds made her smile.
“ Ma vhenan, you are awake.”
As she sat up, a figure was illuminated at her window - tall, in a silken robe, with prominent ears. He began to approach.
“Your hair in this light…”
It was Solas, sitting gently at her side. He was reaching to stroke the locks against her neck, with long pale fingers.
“Da’ elgara.”
His hand caressed downward, and she was leaning into his touch, as though they did this every morning. With his other hand, Solas was undoing the tie of his robe. Ellana laid back down, naked in the bedding as he climbed on top of her.
Now she could hear the shudder of his breath against her flesh, hot and labored at her throat. His warm thighs held firm around her hips. Solas began to pull down the thin sheet, and put his lips to her ear.
“I cannot wait to be inside you.”
With a sharp gasp, Ellana awoke.
She was in her tent, doused in sweat. The elf ran her hands across her face, catching her breath.
Three. That’s three full, sexual dreams you’ve had about Solas now.
Each one had brought her closer to the deed itself with him.
There was movement outside; one, if not two others were awake and packing already.
As she quickly fumbled into her traveling garb, a small thought did occur to her.
The Fade. It was like a loose thread, begging to be pulled. What if you were in The Fade with him?
Could that be done from this distance apart? Greater so, would Solas do that? They’d been at odds on how to proceed after the recent tryst. Still…his lascivious whisper, imaginary or not, filled her core with warmth.
The crisp morning air in the camp steadied her, and Ellana pushed the thoughts aside for the time being.
The morning journey to Skyhold was efficient and quiet. No one was in the mood to start discussion, save for Varric. He perked up in the early afternoon, unaware of the sour note the night had ended on. His harmless talk of writing ideas were a welcomed distraction for Ellana, who was having a hard time shaking the image of Solas fervently removing a robe.
The energy shifted pleasantly when the last cold cliffside was crossed, their settlement now visible on the horizon.
“So, is there a Mrs. Blackwall?” Dorian inquired.
The Grey Warden snorted. “You remember I was living alone in the forest, right?”
“Perhaps someone has caught your eye since joining the Inquisition, then?” The mage quirked an eyebrow.
“Ah, my time of fancies has long passed,” Blackwall brushed him off, avoiding a real answer.
“Well, I’ll tell you lot something,” Dorian smirked. “I wouldn’t be upset if Commander Cullen decided to start doing his workouts shirtless.”
The confession was met with collective groans and laughter.
“Wow,” Varric shook his head. “Josephine owes me ten gold about that. And before you pry, Dorian, if I was interested in someone…you’d know about it.”
There was a pause, and the Tevinter man cleared his throat.
“Dear leader, you must forgive me. I was very tired last night, you see, and…”
Ellana’s ears perked up. It was common knowledge that apologies did not exist in Dorian’s current vocabulary.
“...and I am dreadfully curious now.”
“What about?” She didn’t dare glance back.
“Our healer. Is he…” he paused, searching for the right word, “ skilled in other departments?”
Blackwall loudly coughed.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” the rogue swallowed hard, suddenly busy adjusting the bow over her shoulder. The elf poured her focus into keeping her outward appearance steady, because internally she was filled with hot panic.
Thankfully, a distant guard post noticed the companions, and Ellana was spared.
Solas had been attempting to busy himself all day.
It was not going well.
First, he decided to see what texts their growing book storage held on Orlesian balls. The Inquisition were required to attend one soon, and he had weaseled his way onto the list.
I can still enjoy something, even if it is a joke.
The Inquisitor had made note that she was unfamiliar with the customs. Not surprising, as she was an arrow-slinging Dalish girl, but… perhaps she’d appreciate the assistance. Perhaps she’d need to come and thank him for a delivery of helpful information to her quarters.
Dorian - it had to have been Dorian - made a mess of the library system Solas set up. The crates of newly delivered texts were scattered everywhere. The elf gave up after realizing the shelves were littered with some brainless series titled A Court of Porn and Hoses.
After that plan failed, he decided to stroll through the yard, searching for Cole. The spirit was very forthcoming with secrets, and the feelings of those around him.
He could have felt something about Ellana that I’ve yet to see. I just have to ask the right questions.
Typically, the spirit hung around the hospital camp. It wasn’t terribly busy with the wounded today, though. New missions were being drawn up, and there hadn’t been much combat.
“Are you well, mage?”
Hands behind his back, Solas turned.
“Me?”
A surgeon nodded.
“Yes, I’m just - “ Cole wasn’t here, he realized; he was wasting his time. “Why do you ask?”
“Your expression,” she motioned, holding a wrap of bandages. “Thought you were in pain.”
Next, was the marking of new Fade Rifts for the map. At the end of the day, he and the Inquisitor would have to discuss business. It was the bare minimum.
Each drawing took him longer than the last, as he reflected on the moment he held Ellana’s hand to the sky. It was the first time they touched - the first moment he knew he felt
more.
He had been perfectly fine keeping their affair in fleeting gazes until now. The kiss on her balcony had been a step too far, and Solas knew he should remain distanced.
But seeing the gorgeous elf shoulder-to-shoulder with the human yesterday awoke something in him, a feeling he wasn’t used to. It sat like a shard of ice in his throat, ever present and painful.
Deep in his pondering, the apostate was surprised when the door to his right opened.
“Hello Solas,” Cullen nodded, striding in.
Oh. Wonderful.
“Commander,” he greeted, pretending he was suddenly very engrossed in the work.
A carrier pigeon cooed loudly, echoing from above.
“If you’re here for a book, I’d suggest waiting until the party returns,” he said flatly. “Dorian decided to rearrange. ”
“Oh. They have returned,” Cullen motioned a thumb over his shoulder, nonchalantly. “Scouted about ten miles out.”
Solas’ eyes narrowed. What does she see in him?
“On my way to the War Room, actually,” the former Templar explained. “Ellana will give us the latest.”
Ellana.
The casual name drop did not go unnoticed by the elf.
“And then to The Herald’s Rest you’ll all go, I imagine,” Solas was prodding for information. Would the soldier reveal his intentions?
“You should join us!” Cullen was hovering by the desk now, hands on his hips. “Sera seems to think you don’t have fun, but I told her otherwise.”
The mage scoffed. Of course Sera would say that. Shaking his head, he met the commander’s eyes. “Yes. We all have our vices, don’t we?”
The pale scar over Cullen’s lip twitched.
He rapped his knuckle on the table twice, an awkward parting motion.
“Well, I’d best be off.”
Alone again, Solas pressed his head against the back of his chair. The charcoal in his grasp snapped in two.
The sky was pink and orange with sunset by the time they arrived. Ellana opted to meet with the council right away, sea salt and sweat still on her brow. She eyed the closed rotunda door on her way to the War Room, painfully aware of who was on the other side.
The Inquisitor needed to be free of her immediate duties, first. Pushing them off would only cause further distraction.
The meeting was kept quick, ending as night crept across the horizon. Josephine and Leliana were deep in discussion about the formalwear for the ball, wandering away to Josephine’s office.
Ellana tore the dirty scarf from her throat with a relieved sigh. She was practically fantasizing about the hot bath that awaited her upstairs.
“Inquisitor?”
Cullen had lingered, gloved fingers toying with one of the map figurines.
“We are not turning the training yard into a chicken coop, Commander, do not worry.” The elf clarified. Many requests were brought to the War Room these days, some of which were more mundane than others…
“No, I know, it’s just, ah,” Cullen stuttered, and she finally turned to look at him. “I didn’t properly thank you. For before your outing.”
Ellana, you dumbass, she chided herself.
“Oh. Yes. Is everything…still okay?”
The human nodded, “It is now. I had Cassandra take that last box away from me. I was…tempted.”
The reveal of her Commander’s addiction had come as a shock. He was almost broken, the sun hardly up when Cassandra had asked her to speak to him. It had painted Cullen in a new light to the Inquisitor. His raw truth had given her all the trust she could ask for in an ally.
“Commander,” the elf came up to face him opposite at the table, “you have my respect for your honesty. But you also have my friendship.”
Only recently had Ellana begun to realize how much these people meant to her. They were in their seventh month together. On one hand, everything had happened so quickly. But on the other - the one with the anchor in it - she couldn’t remember a time without seeing these faces everyday.
“And you mine.” He seemed relieved.
She and the bath were practically a religious experience. Shedding the drama, the stress, and the grime from the expedition made the Dalish feel whole again. Despite her efforts, though, the thought of Solas couldn’t be scrubbed from her skin. It was deeper than that now.
The companions were expecting her for a drink, and the Inquisitor felt a second wind coming on. Her hair was fresh, skin smooth, and outfit ready.
The music could be heard all the way from the Great Hall tonight. Reunited and letting loose, things were going well.
They should indulge. They should be proud.
Ellana had never been a part of something so big, or seen such a unity in people from all over Thedas. It brought her hope.
On her walk down to Herald’s Rest, the rogue overheard a soft humming. Someone was sitting on one of the stone ledges in the yard.
She cracked a smile when she realized what it was.
“Hello, Cole.”
The boy was seated a level above her, bare feet dangling in the air.
“The wolf will gladly tear you apart. If you ask politely.”
He never said Hello! or Good to see you, Inquisitor! and Ellana liked him for it.
She didn’t quite understand where he was coming from, but was fine with that. Based on the happenings in camp, Cole’s intentions were only pure; his actions always had a deeper intent. The spirit was simply misunderstood.
As a Dalish elf bearing a holy mark that could cause someone to feel the whole world change, Ellana also felt different from the rest. She was rather protective of the boy.
“You should join us,” she responded politely. “Our friends would be happy to spend time with you.”
She watched as Cole’s hat tipped to the side, face concealed.
“Perhaps after the tree finishes her story,” he offered. The spirit was close to a large pine, which swayed gently in the night air.
“Of course,” Ellana nodded. “Be well.”
“Watch for the teeth,” Cole warned, in parting.
Ellana couldn’t deny the way her heart swelled when she was greeted loudly in the crowded and lively tavern. Her grin overtook her freckled and sunned cheeks, as someone pushed a sloshing cold ale into her grip.
“I must tell you of all the eligible and attractive matches that will be at the ball,” Josephine shout-whispered to her, appearing from a corner. It was a known (and precious) fact that the advisor was the first to retire from these kinds of nights. She was deeply ahead of Ellana in the ale. Thankfully, Leliana was always looking after Josephine, and was already forcing a waterglass into the politician’s hands.
“I didn’t say shit,” Varric covertly defended himself, as the Inquisitor neared the table of her friends. It was always like this when she ventured out - a lot of drama that Ellana was barely privy to.
“Oh sure,” Dorian interjected, practically on Iron Bull’s lap, “and I’m a virgin. ”
She took a sip of her cup, amused and waiting for an explanation, when the hissed discussion explained itself.
Behind the big bench of her rowdy crew, a slender elf was leaning against the wooden support beam.
Solas.
He was effortlessly calm, clutching a goblet of dark wine, looking anywhere but her.
They had been doing this dance for a while now, but this was a new challenge. He
never
came to the bar.
Ellana took a swig of her drink, sitting herself next to an oblivious Blackwall.
Ah. Now your gaze follows.
“How is your eve, my friend?” She asked, harmlessly.
The swarthy man raised his brows, elbows on the table. Turning toward Ellana, he was smiling warmly.
“Well, quite lovely now. And yours?”
The elf shrugged her petite shoulders.
Fervent fingers undoing a silk robe…
“Never better.”
She could feel the apostate’s eyes burning onto her.
“Sorry the cave explorations turned up empty,” Ellana apologized.
“What d’ya mean, empty?” Blackwall teased. “They were full of giant spiders!”
They both laughed. Solas might as well have been stabbing her with his eyes.
Sera appeared, dropping a handful of darts in front of the warden.
“Are we playing or what?!” She impatiently pleaded at him, bouncing in place.
The bearded man seemed to hesitate, but groaned to his feet. “Alright, alright, keep your britches on.” He gave Ellana an apologetic shrug before following away.
“You really shouldn’t lead him on like that.”
Solas was pulling up a chair on her other side. In a fluid movement, he was seated with arms crossed.
Ellana’s heart jumped into her throat, and she tried her best to keep composure. If anything, she was a little smug that he caved so quickly.
“Like what?”
“I doubt The Commander would appreciate it.” His words were sharp, but his expression remained even.
Now she couldn’t avoid her face twisting with confusion. “The Commander?”
A few people were definitely watching them now.
“A fine choice for the Orlesian Ball,” Solas swirled his wine. It seemed more a prop than an actual drink. “The people of the court will respect seeing a handsome human on your arm.”
She shifted her seat to better face him. “ That’s why you’ve been bringing me to The Fade? Because you think I’m with Cullen?”
This made him falter for the first time, a puzzled frown on his lips.
“Because I’m not,” The Inquisitor continued. “And you simply could have asked instead of - “
“When did you traverse The Fade?” His demeanor had shifted entirely. The sly and rehearsed facade turned to genuine confusion. “I would have noticed your presence there, I’m sure.”
Ellana paused. “You haven’t been sending me those dreams?”
Solas blinked a few times, processing. Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice so only she could hear. “The only time you and I were in The Fade together was when you called me sweet talker and proceeded to kiss me.”
Her cheeks burned. He was so close to her for the first time in weeks. His lips near her ear thrilled her the same way it did in her sleep.
“You must tell me about these dreams,” he implored, “and why you assumed my involvement.”
Alarms were going off in Ellana’s brain. Wonderful. An unproductive outing followed by a wildly embarrassing realization. Who put me in charge, again?
“That’s uh,” she shrugged, attempting to be nonchalant, “not necessary.”
The Inquisitor leaned back, grabbing her cup for a chug of ale.
“But it is,” Solas argued, entering full scholar mode. “We do not know the extent of what the anchor can do to you. Perhaps they are visions of things yet to pass.”
At that, she nearly choked.
Ellana was painfully aware of the way they were being watched - and avoided.
“They were probably just regular dreams.” Her throat felt tight. They were anything but regular. “And it’s too loud in he-“
“Outside then,” Solas was promptly on his feet, hand extended to help her up.
She hesitated, staring at the offered palm with her lips parted. Was she truly about to be led out of the tavern, in front of everyone, by the man who’d avoided her for weeks? The very same who had trembled against her, and whispered a confession of love in elvish before dashing away? By the cagey mage that she could not stop lusting over in her unconscious hours?
Ellana gave him her hand, the faint green glow vanishing into his grasp.
Yes. Yes she was.
He did not let go once her hand was properly furled into his own. Solas held tight, leading the Inquisitor through a throng of patrons. It took everything in him to quell the smirk that itched at the corners of his mouth.
How
unseemly,
a lowly apostate pulling their leader out the door. He avoided eye contact, yet relished the voyeurism. Someone shouted for her.
“I’ll be back!” The Inquisitor assured.
With his face against the cool night air, Solas allowed himself a grin.
No you won’t.
The courtyard was a much needed reprieve for him. Despite a few lingering groups in the tavern perimeter, the open yard was a great improvement from the hot crowding inside. Still hand-in-hand with Ellana, he led her beyond the small thicket of trees that shrouded a spot along the wall.
“Now,” he let go, finally turning to face her, “where were we?”
Ellana shook her head with a tired smile, not daring to meet his eyes.
“I think we are sufficient fools, Solas.”
“Fools?” He repeated it, crossing his arms.
“Yes. Probably the greatest in all of Thedas, if you must know.”
His step closer caused her to back against the trunk of the nearest tree.
“What makes you say this?”
She wiped her mouth with a sharp grin.
“You, for thinking I have any interest in the likes of anyone else. And me? ” The Inquisitor shrugged, a combination of repression and liquid courage swelling, “For thinking my sweaty dreams about you were anything more than that: just dreams.”
Solas felt a small, betraying pang in his chest turn into a rapid onslaught of palpitations. Having a body was something that still managed to surprise him - particularly when it came to her.
“Bad dreams, then?” He sauntered a step closer, voice low.
The Inquisitor let out a pitiful laugh. “To be undressed beneath you?”
His lips parted ever so slightly, eyes wide.
She finished her drink, chucking it into the grass. When she finally met his eyes, her head was tilted against the tree, neck exposed to him.
“I suppose they’re only bad if they never come true.”
Solas clasped his hands tightly behind his back.
Should I tell her?
He stared at the bare skin of her throat, an offering that tested his sanity.
Should I tell her I’ve dreamed of doing just that? And the ravenous, dark things that come after?
“If you no longer feel as you said you did, could you simply tell me?” Ellana broke him from his trance, voice cracking in the vulnerability of it all.
Solas sighed a weighted breath, closing in on her like a moth to a flame. When his knees brushed against her warm thighs, he leaned down for a confessional whisper:
“You know I cannot resist you.”
Her chest heaved. A hand clutched his tunic.
“Then don’t.”
Solas did not shy from the incoming press of her lips, hungry for the taste of her want.
Selfish!
A part of him chided; it was quickly silenced by the little sound she made in her throat, when he met the kiss. Knowing it was for him - just him - throttled Solas into a greedy elation. He pushed Ellana against the tree with a shift of his hips, bracing his hands on either side of her.
She gladly formed her frame to his body, hand trapped warmly against his taut stomach.
Their kiss deepened, as it always did once Solas allowed himself to submit to his longing.
His fingers tilted and cupped her jaw, all for the angle to slide his tongue into Elllana’s imploring mouth. She smelled like bath oils and was soft as silk. The rogue’s free hand had deviously found his thigh, and her light traces immediately had his britches filling with heat.
Solas snatched her wrist, holding the dangerous fingers captive at her side. This halted the kiss, and she pouted with swollen lips.
“I thought you said - “
“I did,” he interrupted. Their ragged breath mingled, both of them sounding like they just finished a battle. “I was going to suggest somewhere more… private.”
Her eyes widened in surprise as Solas released her wrist. The sound of the tavern door opening and closing with a gusto of voices only furthered his point.
The Inquisitor blinked a few times, flipping black hair from her eyes. Collecting herself, he realized.
“You make it sound like you’d bend me against this tree in an instant,” Ellana raised an eyebrow. “Quite a departure from the calm, collected apostate everyone knows.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek at the thought. If she teased him any further, Solas might’ve done exactly that.
“Perhaps I contain multitudes.”
The lascivious smile she flashed would haunt his fantasies for years.
“Perhaps you do.”
Ellana lightly pressed him back, Solas letting go. Slowly, she started towards the castle stairs. She gave Solas only one glance over her shoulder, bidding him to follow.
There she was, The Inquisitor: unabashed in moments of tension, unafraid to make a choice. He was always despairingly drawn in, always attracted to this. From the very first time she agreed to lead them to the Hinterlands, eyes sharp as lyrium daggers, a part of Solas savored stalking in her shadow.
A part of him with teeth.
Hands clasped behind his back, the wolf silently followed.