Hello and happy Friday! How about “I don’t need your help" for m!Solavellan?
Thank you very much for giving me this for @dadrunkwriting
This went more out of hand than I thought it would, and it was 50/50 if I add even more to it, but I am going to leave it as it is <3
Pairing: Solas/mLavellan
Rating: T
Words: 1296
The evening at camp was night and quiet.
He heard the hums of Varric as he oiled his weapon, telling everyone maintaining the Inquisition camps about their latest adventures. It’s good for the morale he told him once after he asked about the why’s. So many men did their best to keep the new set-up camps in the Emerald Graves safe. Many had abandoned their homes for the cause, awaiting news from their loved ones each day.
The stories Varric had to share, cleared them from their fears and their anxiety, and if only for a few moments.
Revassan admired that about the Dwarf. He was always doing his best to encourage others, even though he sometimes didn’t believe it himself. Maybe that was why it was so important to Varric to let others believe in the good in the world every now and then.
It did remind him of the home he left just a bit.
Now, Revassan had never been that fond or an eager listener of the Keeper’s tales back in the Dalish camp, but now that he was on his own… he needed to admit that he missed it sometimes.
Maybe that was what his Keeper meant when he said that sometimes you appreciate things more once they are out of reach or they are gone forever.
Of course, there were other elves in the Inquisition but they weren’t quite the people to talk to really. Sera was… one of her kind, and while he did enjoy playing with her, he knew that approaching anything Dalish-themed was out of the question.
The same applied to Solas, who was more like one of the Dalish elders by acting, and always encouraging his questions but at the same time, not very keen on discussing Dalish history because of the distaste he held for them.
Speaking of which, he hasn’t seen the man in question for quite some time.
The last time, he had in fact spotted him, had been in front of an old elven riddle, carved into a wall not too far from here. Given his absence in the camp, he might have still been there. Maybe he should take a look just to make sure, given that he was supposed to be the leader of a big army.
However, lately, he had to admit that he didn’t feel up for all the duties piled up on him since the conclave had run so horribly wrong.
He signalled Varric that he’d been away for a bit, knowing he couldn’t just leave without informing someone about his absence beforehand. By the creator’s, he’d never hear the end of it if he just vanished out of sight.
His steps were quiet when he moved through the woods leading away from the camp and towards the old elven ruin they’d spotted earlier in the day.
He heard an animal dashing through the undergrowth in between, his eyes peeled onto the trampled path they’d made as they searched for a spot to camp, leaving the elven mage to his solitude and musings just as he had requested.
And once he had a clear view of the place they’d found before, he could make out the silhouette of Solas.
The setting sun cast shadows all over the place, illuminating everything in its light and painting the Fen’harel statue guarding the ruin in its golden, orange light. It was beautiful. Solas' features were highlighted by the warm and soft light which made him appear just a tad younger than he was.
“You’ve been staring at this for hours.” Revassan carefully approached the man in question, his red hair lit up by the setting sun when he stepped out of the shadows. “You need some help figuring this out, Hah’ren?” he added teasingly.
“I don’t need your help.” Solas snapped back in irritation, his brows furrowed slightly as the line between them deepened in concentration. Yet, they eased up just a moment after, as he exhaled with a sigh.
“My apologies,” he added swiftly as he slowly turned around. “That was uncouth.”
“It’s fine. My father tended to get irritated too, when he couldn’t figure something out.” Revassan shrugged, a crooked grin on his face. “It’s probably something coming with the age,” he added, much to Solas' displeasure showing on his face.
“I’ll have none of your cheek, Da’len.” The mage’s voice dropped just a bit. A minor change, but one that Revassan caught onto still. He felt the air tingling with energy, his skin feeling the electricity dancing on top of it that made his heart beat faster in his chest.
There was just something about Solas looking at him like this, that made his knees buckle just a bit.
“No?” his cheeks flushed just a bit when he dared to move closer to him, the air growing heavier and more tense between them once they were only inches away. “What will you do against it, Hah’ren?” The words were uttered in a tease, his voice probably a bit more breathless than he intended them to be.
“I might need to teach you a thing or two, about respecting your elders, Da’len.” a brief chuckle escaped him, his voice sounding smooth while his movements were nothing but elegant yet strong at the same time.
There was something about the way he strode around him, making him feel like a hunted animal.
He swallowed hard, thinking about his past hunting days and if the prey he hunted had felt like he did at this very moment. And yet, there was no fear rushing through him but a rush of excitement he felt pulsing through his veins.
“I’ve never been good at rhetorical lessons.” Revassan breathed in return, not daring to reach out to the elf who radiated pure dominance and power at the moment. How could a self-trained apostate mage hold himself as regal as Solas did, he wondered.
But, it was a thought going away once Solas came so close to him that he was almost unable to breathe.
Hesitation crossed the mage’s face as he looked at him, mixing with a yearning and a hunger he hadn’t ever seen in someone’s eyes. It was almost as if the elf before him was conflicted, his fingers trembling with the want to touch but too scared he could burn himself once he did.
And while Revassan knew nothing about the reason, all he could think about was reaching out.
His hands stretched to touch Sola’s coat, both of them curling into the soft fabric to tug him towards him, causing their lips to touch.
A spark ran through him with the electricity surging through him, the weatherworn lips of Solas feeling so incredibly soft yet firm against his own. Revassan’s eyes felt shut once he felt them pressing back against him, moving with an intent and hunger he never felt before as Solas took control of the moment.
Hands wandered to hold him at his waist, pulling him closer still and causing their bodies to clash.
He heard him grunt against his lips and felt the mage’s fingers tremble as he kept on holding him while Revassan couldn’t let go of the man’s coat. His whole body felt as if it was hit by an electricity spell as he latched onto all he could feel at this very moment, afraid it might vanish as soon as he let go.
And maybe it was the same for Solas.
Revassan felt every single tremble in his fingers as he held onto him, felt every single spark of his magic against the fabric of his tunic as he kissed him with all the hunger and yearning of the world, unable to pull back.
Yet, it wasn’t as if any of them wanted to.
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Wip-Wednesday
Finally, I have a small wip to share again, probably the last for this year until I take a break to recharge my creative spirit again.
But the first stone for an transInquisitor/Solas fanfiction is set!
He tried to fight against the hands digging into the worn down tunic they must have given him and that was nothing like his Dalish armour. His feet dragged over the cold stone floor and his teeth grit when he tried to wiggle his way out.
But their grip was too firm, bruising almost as they threw him onto the ground, pulling their blades at the same moment to place them around his neck and forcing him to keep his head up at the same prospect.
By the creators, how much he wanted to put an arrow into their foreheads if only he’d have his weapons.
“Don’t even try.” The woman with the dark hair and the metal armour warned him. Her face was a mask of tiredness and desperation, but she tried to hide it with a curtain of harshness. This woman was used to handle interrogation’s, that much was clear.
“We have guards positioned at the outside as well, you’d do best to corporate if you don’t want to be ended by one of their blades. They will be as quick as I.” she added, her tired yet scornful eyes piercing him as he remained silent.
He wore a stoic mask on his own, as forest green eyes reflected the torches around him. His shoulders were straight, and his chin lifted as he met her gaze, waiting for her to continue on with pursed lips.
Revassan surely wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of speaking on his own, no matter if the damp coldness of the stone floor underneath him dug through the pants they’d given him.
“What were you doing at the conclave?” she continued on, as if he didn’t insult her with his silence. “And what happened? How did you survive?”
Confusion flashed over his face.
Survive? That didn’t sound right with him, but then again… he could tell that he was injured. His arm still hurt, yet not as badly as it had before, the very palm of his hand feeling as if it throbbed and something was stuck inside.
So, it wasn’t as he knew anymore about what was going on but the Shem’s did obviously.
He regarded her for a moment, seemingly not bothered at all by the cold steel pressed against his neck and ready to end his life at any moment. Yet, he knew, as threatening as they might have been, they were desperate too. He could see it in their eyes after all.
“I was sent to the conclave by request of the Keeper of my Clan.” he answered, carefully. “As for your other question… I can’t answer that I’m afraid for I am just as much in the dark as you are.”
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