#like that except that zevran sometimes forgets how to breathe around her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katalyna-rose · 7 years

Text

Vhenan Chapter Six

Graphic Depictions of Violence

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

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

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

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

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

Read on AO3!

From the Beginning

Moonlight,

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

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

Varric,

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

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

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

Moonlight

Lyna,

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

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

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

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

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

Cullen Stanton Rutherford

Lyna,

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

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

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

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

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

I miss you. Please write to me often!

Josephine Montilyet

My friend,

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

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

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

My friend,

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

Send more information when you gather it.

Leliana

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then she collapsed, fainted dead away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4 notes · View notes