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Skyhold was abuzz with activity beyond anything it had seen in quite some time. As renovations continued on the lower levels of the stronghold, reports emerged of a new system of tunnels discovered amongst the rubble. The Inquisition always expected to find more in the structure, but the real excitement came when one of the rooms discovered in this set of subterranean hallways was what had appeared to be a long-forgotten library.
No one was more excited about the prospect than Ellana Lavellan. And no one was more quietly worried about the discovery than Solas.
When Ellana burst into the rotunda with the news, it had taken everything in his power to force a look of surprise that didn’t border on terror. He indulged her chatter and speculation about what could possibly be found within its ancient tomes and scrolls, about who might have left them behind or how old they might be. Passively, he offered a hum of interest or a nod of agreement and, under other circumstances, he'd have been charmed by her enthusiasm.
However, he provided nothing more because he knew the answers to all these questions. The library had been his, after all.
“Well, Solas? Isn’t it wonderful? There might be even more Fade research for you to dive into after we catalogue what we find there.” She approached his desk, sitting against the edge with the casual familiarity that had become commonplace in recent weeks. Her eyes were bright, full of hope, shining in the way that made his heart skip a beat when they met with his. That outstandingly positive outlook that was unwavering and inspired everyone with whom she graced her presence.
Today, though, that hitch in his chest came along with a lump in his throat that was hard to swallow.
“I am sure there are a great many things of interest to be found within,” he said.
As always, careful wording was required when he needed to step around the truth. His omissions were hard enough; the real difficult was in finding the gumption to tell her any overt lies. He simply couldn’t do it.
“I just thought you might be more excited…” The deflation in her voice and the fall of the smile on her face wrenched his heart again. No, he would not take this from her too.
At least, not entirely.
“Your curiosity and thirst for knowledge continue to be their own source of wonder, vhenan.” Solas reached a hand out to cover hers, and her smile renewed as she tangled her fingers with his. That pretty blush spread across her face, the one he knew was reserved only for him when he called her his heart. It was one of his favorite sights, and regardless of what would come, one he would treasure until the end of time.
“That brings me to my request, actually.” She rubbed a thumb over his digits, and he watched their hands for a moment before turning his eyes back up to hers with a question. Her voice softened, and she chewed her lower lip gently before she continued. He did his best to cast his gaze anywhere other than her lips; it was a nervous habit of hers that he found particularly distracting. “I was wondering if you’d join me in cataloguing the contents? I thought… that it might be something you’d enjoy and it would be nice to spend the time together.”
She paused, and when he did not immediately answer, she clarified with a hopeful smile. “Just us.”
That was a solution. If he were present for first rights, then anything particularly damning was something he could deal with quickly. And if she was the only other person present, it would be a relatively simple matter to keep troublesome evidence away from any other prying eyes. With everything written in Ancient Elvhen, reading at a glance would be unlikely if not impossible. His heart might be a quick study, but that was for more common-use topics. The records, battle plans, and journals of his past would be much more difficult and intensive to decipher.
“Ma nuvenin. I treasure the time I spend with you very much.”
It had been the right thing to say, as her countenance brightened and she loosed the smallest giggle of excitement. With a squeeze of his hand, she moved to stand once more. On a whim, he pulled her hand back, and she gasped as she tumbled back toward him, leaning over the desk with her face just inches from his. They had shared so few kisses from that moment on the balcony, and he had continued to try to find every opportunity to selfishly steal just one more.
His other hand came up to her chin to tilt her lips into his. It was a soft, gentle, and a simple gesture of affection, but the way she melted into it made him feel personally blessed. She was far more divine than he would ever be. Not for the first or last time, his mind wove the vision of a daydream where she would always be at his side, and for a brief moment, he let himself escape in it.
When she shyly pulled away, face flushed above a demure smile, he brushed her cheek with a lingering thumb before letting her go.
“I’ll just, uh, make sure all the preparations for us are in place… and we can get started first thing in the morning?” Ellana slowly got to her feet, straightening her robes both as a nervous fidget and to ensure she looked presentable before heading back into more populated commons of the keep.
“Of course. I look forward to monopolizing your time, Inquisitor,” he said with a smirk and a nod.
As soon as the door closed behind her, the amusement drained from his face, and Solas sighed heavily. His face dropped into his hands.
There were preparations to be made.
It would have been a lovely way to spend the day if he wasn’t on such high alert the entire time.
To Solas’ surprise (and delight that would have been less muted under more favorable circumstances), Ellana had done precisely as she had declared in arranging the day to privately be their own. She arrived just past the first bells, when the rest of Skyhold was only beginning to start their day, a satchel at her side and a covered basket in her hands. She looked prepared for a day of archival and potentially exploration, favoring simple leather pants, Dalish foot wrappings, and a wide-cut blouse wrapped in a supportive (but comfortable) bodice. A neat plait held back her vibrant ginger hair, though a few loose strands hung freely to frame her face.
It was clear she was attempting to ride the line between practical and pretty, and he could not help the twitch of his lips into an affectionate smile. While the gesture was perhaps unnecessary, there was little harm in being appreciative for the effort she had clearly made. He lifted his pack from his desk and strode forward, stopping just shy of where he might lean in to steal another kiss.
“Are you so certain it is the library where you wish that I direct my attention?”
She shyly brushed a strand out of her face with a warm blush.
“I will be grateful for any attentions you choose to spare.” A sly smile and a bitten lip. “Scholastic or… otherwise. Shall we?”
They walked together towards the recently excavated staircase, Ellana nodding to the guards posted at the top as they began to descend. It was a spiral staircase, still riddled with loose debris from the cleanup, and Solas offered his arm to Ellana for balance. The warmth of her hand on his bicep was welcome, and he could feel his pulse quicken; one part from her proximity and the other from stepping ever closer to evidence that would irrevocably damn his existence.
As they reached the bottom of the staircase and stepped into the empty halls, torches had been lit and hung in suspiciously new brackets on the wall. This hall had once been limned in perpetual veilfire, but Solas now found the mundane lighting the excavation crew had installed to be rather uninspired.
A heavy oak door sat waiting for them, the only egress from the hallway that was available amidst the rubble, and Solas stepped forward to pull and hold it open for the Inquisitor. She cast him a grateful smile as she strode past, and once she could no longer see his face, he let out a deep exhale.
Now the dance would begin.
It was a modest library, meant to hold personal records and accounts rather than droves of research meant for the masses. Thick wooden shelves that had clearly once been polished lined the walls, covered in dusty tomes and the accumulated cobwebs of countless ages. On one side, a wall of scrolls was tucked into individual alcoves, their parchment aged and yellowed with neglect. Part of that hurt Solas’ heart; his wards on these particular records must have faded during his time in uthenera. On the bright side, it meant they were likely too delicate to inspect, at least without proper care and tools.
One less thing to worry about.
In the center of the room, a long table, roughly two feet wide and nearly six feet long, had the scattered remains of writing and calligraphy tools. The bones of quills that had long worn away and ink pots that had dried out centuries prior were only a few of the set pieces that covered its surface. Thankfully, it appeared he had done his due diligence before the last time he had left this room; no materials or maps were spread out on its surface, just layers upon layers of dust.
The far end of the room contained his greatest concern: a writing desk tucked between two sets of heavily laden bookshelves sagging with the weight of unknown histories. It looked innocuous enough, and from what he could tell from this distance, nothing damning was immediately visible. It was the secret compartment that lay under the desktop that worried him; a place where he had kept a journal marking the days and noting his progress before he had raised the Veil. If nothing else, this was the one item he needed to discreetly remove before the day’s end. Even if it was not found today, some curious scribe or collector would undoubtedly uncover it if given enough time.
As Ellana entered, she raised a fist to cough, her feet kicking up a flutter of ancient dust that assaulted the senses. The musty smell and acrid burning of thousands of years of detritus drew tears at the corners of her eyes and she ineffectually waved a hand in front of her face, wrinkling her nose.
“Well, they definitely left things untouched for us.” She coughed again, struggling to bear a smile. He nodded.
“Perhaps we should have brought cleaning supplies of some nature. Should we return or—“
It was a good try, but not quite good enough.
“I saw some crates outside next to the rubble. Let me see what I can find.”
Ellana set her basket and satchel down on the table before scurrying back out the door. Once he was certain she wasn’t going to return immediately, he rushed to the writing desk, reaching under to press a hidden switch that released the small, leather-bound book that had once been his only lonely companion in those final days. The cover was unremarkable, wrapped with a dark leather thong to keep its pages secured. He slipped it into his pack, quickly closed the compartment, and turned around just in time for Ellana to stride back in with an armful of dusty sheets and a broom.
“Find something already?”
“Ah… Simply admiring the writing desk. It is of fine make. Whomever it once belonged to had a simple and refined taste.”
Ah, yes, flawless cover. Admire your own furniture. Imbecile.
“Oh? Would it be more suitable than the desk in the rotunda? If it’s in good enough condition, we could have someone move it up for you.”
He blanched; the effort was unexpectedly thoughtful, though for reasons she would never know.
“That would be unnecessary; the desk I have is quite sufficient and there are better uses for the Inquisition’s resources.” He paused, seeing her deflate slightly. “Though the thought is greatly appreciated.”
Ellana set down the bundle of fabric scraps intended for cleaning and leaned the broom against the table. She smiled sadly.
“It’s… hard to find things for you, Solas. I mean, things that you’d like. I’d like to do something nice for you.”
The ache in his chest swelled, and he moved to her, placing a finger under her chin to direct her eyes to his.
“I have everything I need, vhenan.” He admired the blush that flooded her cheeks and dusted up to the tip of her ears. He stole a kiss, gently curling a hand around her waist and pulling her in and against his body. She sighed, clearly basking in the moment before her hands settled on his chest and she gently pushed him away.
“You keep talking like that and we’ll never get anything done in here. We should tidy up and get started.”
He reluctantly let her go, but she had just given him an idea. A sound plan, really. It could definitely keep her distracted. It might even encourage her to… relocate their activities for the remainder of the day.
And it’s not as if it was anything he didn’t want to do.
He could not make it too obvious. She needed to explore the library at least a little; ensure that the time spent down here felt sufficient and productive enough that they would not need to return themselves. Then he could intervene elsewhere, send one of his agents down to comb for incriminating documents, and have them removed (or perhaps destroyed) during the cataloguing.
Yes. This would work. He just needed to wait for the right moment and ensure she did not stumble onto anything compromising in the meantime. He could do that.
They set to work with basic tidying, ensuring that the both of them would have somewhere relatively clean to work. Chairs wiped off and pulled up to the table, the surface cleared off of dust and debris, and a thorough sweeping of the floor at least ensured that they would not be inhaling detritus throughout the day.
It was an oddly domestic chore to be sharing with the Inquisitor. Ordinarily, their time spent together was in study, training, or out in the field on some kind of mission. But this… this almost felt normal. If it weren’t for the fact it was in his ancient library, he’d have found the mundane opportunity charming.
Ellana wiped a bead of sweat from her brow as she finished gathering the pile of dirt and dust bunnies to the corner of the room.
“Phew. That was a novel experience. The attendants around Skyhold make it look so easy, I’ll have to thank them the next time they clear the cobwebs from my quarters.”
“I suppose the Dalish have little need to sweep their aravels or campgrounds,” Solas chuckled, wiping the dust from his hands the best he could. He’d have dirt under his nails for days. “But it is good that you know well the worth of those who serve you.”
She frowned slightly, leaning on the broom handle.
“That’s still a very strange notion for me.” She held up her left hand, glancing at the mark that glowed softly in the dimly lit room. “I’m just some elf who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Given the breadth of your reach and notoriety of your deeds, I would say otherwise. You lead admirably and continue to see your followers as the people they are. You could ask little more of one who has had such responsibility thrust upon them.”
She hummed thoughtfully, and she gazed into the distance for a moment. He could tell her thoughts had wandered far from the room when her brow knit together.
“Vhenan?” Solas prompted, and she startled in place, shaking her head as her thoughts came back to him.
“It’s nothing. Just… I worry sometimes I’ll lose myself in the idea of the Inquisitor. I never want to stop being Ellana, you know?”
He nodded solemnly; he understood better than most.
“If that is your wish, I do not believe there is a force in this world that could challenge your resolve.”
“Flatterer,” she pursed her lips in admonishment, though they were threatening to pull into a smile. She found a corner to prop the broom and made her way over, sitting in the chair next to him. “Where should we begin?”
“Has anything caught your eye?”
“Well, the scroll rack is too sensitive to be dealt with given our current equipment. It’s got me curious, but I wouldn’t want to risk destroying anything.” She worried at her lip and he had to look elsewhere. Her nervous habit had the tendency to make him wish he were the one doing the biting, an intrusive thought he had needed to suppress on more than one occasion.
“Agreed, they are a risk. And of the tomes?”
“All unmarked, from what I can tell. They look old. Very old.” Solas stifled a wave of personal offense, internally reminding himself it was not a slight aimed at him intentionally. She couldn’t know; in fact, it would be very, very, catastrophically bad for him if she did.
“I suppose that means anywhere is as good a start as any other. Shall I start on this shelf while you take that one?”
He gestured her to one he recalled housed more innocuous documentation; things like ledgers and inventories of supplies. They would be incredible finds to scholars and historians interested in the ancient elves, but nothing that might risk revealing his identity. The shelf he sent himself to, on the other hand, included battle reports from wars long past and forgotten. Equally valuable finds, but most certainly framed from his perspective and some, more concerningly, penned by his hand.
Thankfully, she nodded in agreement, and their work began in earnest.
As Ellana cracked open her first book carefully, laying it gently on the table, her eyes widened. She looked up at Solas in wonder as he came over to the table with a stack of several purposefully chosen books of low import.
“Solas! This is in Elvhen!” She worried at her lip again, her finger hovering over the text as she picked out different words.
“Ned'an? Bor’assan. Bel…Misaan? It’s an inventory of some kind.”
Feigning ignorance and curiosity, Solas set his books down and leaned to read over her shoulder, their sleeves brushing lightly against one another. He was close enough to breathe in her scent, something sweet and floral that had changed with the turn of the season. He peered at the words, making out each of the ones she had read in a grid, scattered between others she had clearly skipped over from lack of familiarity.
“Excellent work, vhenan. Your reading has improved.” She turned to look up at him, beaming with pride, and he offered her a warm smile in return. “What do you make of it?”
“Beds, bows, and swords? These are supplies for a war. Clearly for a barracks or fort. Though I suppose it’s no surprise Skyhold has always been a fortification of some kind. It’s too easily defensible to have served any other purpose.” She paused. “Unless perhaps it was built to protect something.” She turned the page, delicately brushing her finger over more of the old written script.
“An astute observation. Either, or both, could be true.”
“What on earth could have been so valuable that you would want to hide it away in the mountains and guard it with an army?”
He hummed, a part of him enjoying the game of watching her puzzle through answers he already knew. She was wildly intelligent, and he had to be careful what information he put in front of her, lest she piece more sensitive conclusions together.
“So valuable? Or so dangerous?”
Ellana nodded in dawning agreement before turning back to the ledger and continuing to flip through. Solas flipped through his own books, pausing long enough to have “read” a page before moving on, and idly taking notes on a bit of parchment retrieved from his pack. He spent little time with each book, instead making an inventory of generalized contents he could hand to the quartermaster (or whomever took on this task after their first pass) while Ellana lost herself in individual tomes.
“I’ve never seen so much of our people’s writing in one place. My Keeper would have lost her mind!” She gasped, looking up at him. “I should write to them! My clan. It’s been a while since I’ve written…”
She looked a little guilty, and he reached out to rest a hand atop one of hers.
“You have been rather busy of late, Inquisitor.” He emphasized the title, as though it excused any possible lapse in contact. She sighed and threaded her fingers through his, and he lifted his eyes from his book once he felt her head lean against his shoulder.
“It’s things like that, Solas. Little parts of me that feel like they’re drifting away.” He allowed her the space for her melancholy, pressing a kiss into her hair in comfort rather than responding with words. She sighed. “Thank you for agreeing to come down here with me. I know perhaps it’s not the best use of the Inquisitor’s time, but…”
“But you desired time away from your regular duties,” he concluded, and she looked up at him with a nod. There it was. There was the opportunity. “And some time alone with me.”
It was not asked as a question, but rather declared as an observation, and the flush of her cheeks and bite of her lip was more than enough of a confirmation for him. This time, he did not resist his desires, leaning in once more to press his lips to hers and running an imploring tongue along their seam. The pleasantly surprised hum that she loosed gave him the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his unoccupied hand raising up to cradle her cheek and she turned in her chair, her body now facing his. He shifted as well, pulling on the hand he had entwined with hers and their inventorying work was quickly forgotten as she moved from her chair directly into his lap.
She always felt like such a small thing in his embrace, given his tall stature, and he felt it all the more now as he rearranged his arms to wrap around her waist. His hands settled firmly on her backside and he pulled again, sliding her up his thighs with a groan. One of her hands rested against his chest, fingertips idly playing with the neckline of his sweater, while the other curled up around his neck, palm resting against the back of his head.
When they parted for a gasp of air, he did not relent, rumbling her name low in his chest and nudging his nose against hers. As their lips brushed over each other again, she pushed in for another passionate kiss. Rarely were they afforded the luxury of not only being alone, but today they were assured privacy. There had been a few stolen moments before, but all had been significantly more clandestine and none nearly as opportune. If her intentions had not included the potential for a romantic interlude, based on the way her tongue danced against his, they certainly did now.
With one arm, he reached out and pushed the books on the table off to the side, one skidding far enough to drop to the floor with a loud SMACK. Neither paid it any mind as he lifted her in his arms, standing from the chair to set her down on the table. He pulled away from her reluctant lips, a whine of protest twisting into a moan of approval as his mouth descended on her neck instead. He ran one hand down her side, the edge of his palm tracing over the curve of her breast, while the other slid from her waist down the side of her thigh, fingers gripping greedily.
As she gasped a breathy “Solas,” it may have well been the finest musical chord for the way it echoed in his ears, his skin tingling and a resonance filling his chest. There was no sweeter sound than that of his heart calling his name. There never would be.
Her hands beat his to the top of her bodice, pulling at the strings that kept her chest tightly secured in place. Once the first few rows had been pulled loose, the wide neck of her blouse was free to be pulled low, exposing her breasts to his rough, eager hands. He lifted his mouth from where he had pointedly left his mark, just low enough where she might cover it under a uniform to remain their sordid secret, to growl in her ear.
“No breast band, vhenan? Should I have questioned your intentions with me?”
He bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress a groan at the sultry giggle that was her response.
“You’ll know the answer to that once you get past my pants.”
He hadn’t intended to release a choked whimper, but it was done now, and he had more important priorities than to worry about it.
Her hands took to his belt next, looping under the leather and pulling him closer as she spread her legs, making room for him to stand between, her knees pressing against his hips. The more she goaded him with her body, the more eager he became, and his hands abandoned their ministrations upon her chest to work at the laces of her breeches. As promised, once they were loose enough to slip a hand within, he found no smalls underneath—just the hot, wet slick of her arousal.
“Fenedhis. Ros’darena ma’ban.” Whether or not she understood his words, he meant each one of them. This woman would be his ruin, one way or another. The least he could do is ensure she would leave his study just as ruined. He slid two of his fingers over her clit, applying pressure as they sank lower and further into her clothing. She muffled a satisfied sigh, her teeth pressing down onto her bottom lip once more.
That damn bite!
His lips overtook hers again, his own teeth biting gently and eliciting a much more pronounced keen from her. He would show her what she kept doing to him in every small action, every minor affection. How he hoarded their memories with longing and need until they welled up into moments like these. She would repay him with nothing less than the cries of her unrestrained ecstasy.
As his hand worked between her legs, her grasp on his belt became a tangle of her fingers maneuvering his buckle, pulling the belt loose until it dropped around his ankles. With his sweater free to move out of her way, her palm found the split between his fitted undershirt and his pants, her warm touch fluttering over the flesh of his stomach. He flexed his abdominals instinctively and her palm ran down to cup the swell of his cock straining against his clothing.
Well. If she was so eager, who was he to keep the Inquisitor waiting?
In a flurry of movements, they withdrew their hands, shed his sweater and her pants, and moved enough of his attire out of their way to expose his length to her cunt. She took him in hand and gave him a purposeful stroke with just enough pressure to not-so-subtly suggest he move forward. With little reason to disobey, he fulfilled her request, bracing his body to hers with an arm around her bare waist while she gripped the edge of the table.
He took his time sinking into her, releasing her lips so that he might catch her gaze. Hooded and hazy with lust and desire, it was a view burned into his memory that would last an eternity.
He loved how he affected her. He loved watching her melt in his arms. He loved the way her mouth parted when he took her, and every small gasp and cry that came along with the strokes that would follow.
Ultimately, he loved everything about her, from who she was to the moments she shared with him. There was no one in this world or another like her, and to be so fortunate as to have her love in return… He would never feel worthy.
So he selfishly took. Her generosity with her heart and desire was a stolen thing, regardless of how willingly she seemed to bestow it. He loathed that there would be a day she would know. Feared its inevitability. Hid behind the fierceness of his love for her in hopes that it might shelter him until he had no choice but to face his future.
But that day would not be today. So he took.
He could never get enough of her. Enough of the taste of her lips, enough of her sweet scent, enough of the warmth he was buried within. Her skin was soft from the pampering her station now afforded (if not demanded) of her, but beneath the rich foods and and luxurious gifts was the form of a soldier. Ellana Lavellan had known many battles, and she would know many more; her body had been honed as such to withstand it, and his hands appreciated every inch.
Only when he was satisfied she had crested twice around his length did he consider slowing his pace, reluctant for their embrace to end. It was the desperate kiss she pulled him into that finally brought him to his finish, the way her lips and tongue and hands pulled at him with a ferocious need only he could fulfill. When he came to a stop, she tightened her embrace around him, and he reveled in the heavy scent of musk and sweat that now overrode the mustiness of the forgotten repository. He had spent countless hours in here before, but none would be more precious to him than these last few.
“I’m not used to having you all to myself like this,” she managed between her heavy breaths, cheek pressed to his chest and arms wrapped languidly around his waist.
“Were that I could make it our most common reality.” He was grateful she could not see his face, or the sorrow behind the kiss he pressed into her hair.
She hummed happily, enjoying the warmth of his arms a moment longer, before she peered up at him.
“Shall we make ourselves presentable long enough to steal away somewhere less dreary?”
“If that is your wish. Do you feel confident we have… accomplished what we came here to do?” He suppressed a smirk as well as she suppressed her giggle, which was to say, not at all.
“Hmm, well. We definitely got something done. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; most of what we found here are a handful of ledgers and not some world-shattering revelation.”
If only.
“Let’s clean up and then… perhaps we can continue our day together in my quarters?”
He leaned down and pressed a short and sweet kiss to her lips.
“If the Inquisitor requires more of my time, then she has but to request it.”
After their fulfilling rendezvous and a blessedly quiet afternoon in her arms, Solas made efficient work of the study through his agents. One or two would take the fall for mishandling the delicate documentation, but nothing would remain. A knocked over lantern, a localized but containable fire, and his concerns were no more.
It was weeks before he thought about the library again as he reached into his pack to prepare it for his next departure. He felt the aged leather of the small book in his hands and stilled before pulling it free. Solas spent his evening flipping through its pages, re-reading the turmoil he felt about what was to come.
What he must do.
It hardened him. That day, he remembered his duties and his oaths. They were refreshed in his mind, and he felt renewed in one way, and weighted with grief in another. Eventually, he would take the notebook, turn to the last page and write one final entry. He addressed it to who he hoped would one day read it, reassure her that their stolen moments were the most precious of his impossibly long life. That it all meant something, that she meant something. His tears would stain the page and smudge the letters.
He did not sign it; there was no need.
With his message complete, he tucked it to the underside of his bunk; a place no one would likely look until he would need to depart for good. With a deep breath, and an ache in his chest that was at war with the warmth for greatest love, he finished packing his bag. He ensured it had everything they needed, for the trip would be long.
In the morning, they departed for Crestwood.
Written by a human in Ellipsus.