Here’s another Solavellan oneshot. Enjoy! And reminder to read Inevitablehere!
Mythal took the scent of Fen’Harel’s magic in stride; filed away the fact that the Inquisitor reeked of him so strongly that she would not have been surprised to turn and find him standing beside her. It was not just the power of the Wolf’s orb that coated the elf so thoroughly. She carried him with her in other ways, ways that the Fade made all too plain to one of the Evanuris.
Mythal could, and would, use that information to her advantage. She knew the WoIf well – if he still roamed Thedas, he did so with some scheming intent. She would simply need to out scheme him.
But this she-elf, the shemlen Inquisitor, was intriguing. Mythal had wondered at the elf’s climb to power when all of Thedas dismissed these Dalish as mere savages. She was pretty, but not a beauty so staggering as to bring nations to their knees. She was clever — her emerald eyes glowed with wit and intellect — but she lacked the cruelty command so often required. And she had power, a connection with the Fade to be envied by the mages of this Age, but did she wield it to her advantage? The kindness in her voice led Mythal to think not.
But if she had the Wolf behind her? His strategic mind and cloistered heart would make up for the Inquisitor’s softness. An alliance with him would catapult this elf into the annals of history, if there were to be such things.
But if the Wolf still roamed, then Thedas’s days were dwindling.
And what of him? While Fen’Harel’s involvement made sudden sense of the Inquisitor’s story, it only complicated his. Why join this Inquisition? Why attach himself to this shemlen with such… carnal methods? How did this Breach and this woman fit into his plans? Because the Wolf would not weave his way into her heart unless absolutely necessary.
But, thought a tremulous voice – Flemeth’s voice – What if her gentleness has tempered him?
Ridiculous, she thought. Fen’Harel has craved only vengeance since her apparent death. This mortal would have no sway over him. She knew her oldest child, for that’s what he was to her – the first to be summoned and offered the ability to walk in both worlds. He was her oldest friend, a Spirit she had known before the Elvhen had accepted the Evanuris as gods. She knew him, though and through.
Flemeth whispered, a millennium in Uthenera could have weakened him. Left him vulnerable to her charms.
Impossible. Fen’Harel did not share his power. Even their ancient alliance had been less a joining of minds and more an act of servitude. He followed her, cared for her, because he had always done so. Because he valued her more than the others. Because he owed her for the life he’d lived.
She considered the Inquisitor again, took stock of her clever eyes the color of the Fade, of the freckles dusting her nose and cheeks, and of the gentle lift of pale pink lips as she watched Kieran return to Morrigan.
No. She might be a bright Spirit, solidified by Fen’Harel’s magic fused to hers, but she was not so remarkable that she could bring The Dread Wolf to his knees. He was not known as He Who Walks Alone for nothing; the Wolf’s path had always been a solitary one.
Mythal watched the Inquisitor leave, waited as the scent of her oldest friend faded into the Beyond. Her gut clenched when she realized she missed the smell already. But there would be time for reunions soon enough. For if the Wolf still roamed, he had a plan. And if he had a plan, she needed several of her own. With the Old God’s soul now safely housed within her, she finally had room to maneuver.
She had learned through her long life not to underestimate the shemlen. Time and again they proved resilient and oh, so very useful. She would keep an eye on this Riallan, especially now that she seemed important to The Wolf. There were opportunities to be had there.
Careful, said Flemeth, for though he is known as He Who Walks Alone, it would be wise to remember one thing…
Mythal felt the tiniest flicker of cold fear in her belly, because she knew better than to ignore Flemeth entirely.
It’s been awhile, but here’s another chapter(?)/oneshot from Inevitable. Consider it my way of celebrating the title announcement. With tears.
If you haven’t read Inevitable, or would just love a re-read, find it here!
They sent a raven ahead to Caer Bronach, so a room was ready for the Inquisitor and her companion. Leliana’s scouts maintained the Keep and saw to it that the couple had ample privacy, even if Solas suspected Leliana had already received word of their arrival. For someone as high profile as Riallan privacy would always be an illusion.
It was one in which he would gladly linger.
They spent the first day exploring the ruins where they’d fought the dragon, and ended on the little dock that jutted out over the lake. They’d unwrapped their feet to let their toes dangle in the water and as the sun set they lay back to watch the stars come out. Riallan snuggled against his side, her cheek to his chest as he pointed out constellations. He told her what they’d been in the time of Elvhenan and she compared them to what the Dalish called them now.
So few remained the same.
They returned to the keep and took a bottle of wine to their room. They shared it in the gentle glow of the fire until warmth surrounded them inside and out. Until his warmth sought hers and they moved together there on the throws and blankets. It was slow and sweet, heedless of the world beyond those walls. For one night they were an island lost to time — no one could reach them then.
The next morning Solas woke earlier than usual. For once Riallan still laid beside him. He rarely saw her so peaceful. The creases that haunted the corners of her eyes were smoothed in her sleep and her mouth parted just slightly as she breathed. Her eyes moved behind long lashes and he reveled in the mystery of her dreams. He could always slip into the Fade and see for himself, but for this one morning he let his imagination fill in the blanks.
It’s been awhile, but here’s another chapter(?)/oneshot from Inevitable. Consider it my way of celebrating the title announcement. With tears.
If you haven’t read Inevitable, or would just love a re-read, find it here!
They sent a raven ahead to Caer Bronach, so a room was ready for the Inquisitor and her companion. Leliana’s scouts maintained the Keep and saw to it that the couple had ample privacy, even if Solas suspected Leliana had already received word of their arrival. For someone as high profile as Riallan privacy would always be an illusion.
It was one in which he would gladly linger.
They spent the first day exploring the ruins where they’d fought the dragon, and ended on the little dock that jutted out over the lake. They’d unwrapped their feet to let their toes dangle in the water and as the sun set they lay back to watch the stars come out. Riallan snuggled against his side, her cheek to his chest as he pointed out constellations. He told her what they’d been in the time of Elvhenan and she compared them to what the Dalish called them now.
So few remained the same.
They returned to the keep and took a bottle of wine to their room. They shared it in the gentle glow of the fire until warmth surrounded them inside and out. Until his warmth sought hers and they moved together there on the throws and blankets. It was slow and sweet, heedless of the world beyond those walls. For one night they were an island lost to time — no one could reach them then.
The next morning Solas woke earlier than usual. For once Riallan still laid beside him. He rarely saw her so peaceful. The creases that haunted the corners of her eyes were smoothed in her sleep and her mouth parted just slightly as she breathed. Her eyes moved behind long lashes and he reveled in the mystery of her dreams. He could always slip into the Fade and see for himself, but for this one morning he let his imagination fill in the blanks.
As he watched his vhenan sleep, his imagination wandered beyond her dreams. He imagined a lifetime of mornings just like this, with a lifetime of evenings to match. In his long, impossible life, Solas had never once fathomed such peace. Such simple satisfaction as watching his lover sleep safe in the bed they shared. He had never longed for a domestic life, never dreamed such a thing could be possible for him, but watching her made it easy to do. He could see a little house somewhere warm near the sea, where they shared lives devoted to knowledge and one another. A quiet life.
And with her he could have it all, if he would only set his burden down.
Riallan moaned and wriggled closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her to draw her close and she smiled against his collarbone.
The decision had never been easier. Tonight. He would tell her everything tonight. It would not be easy, in fact he suspected she would be hurt by his secrecy, but he believed they would endure. He would do whatever it took to be by her side, he would make every apology until she accepted him into her arms once again. He would lie to her no more.
“Why are you awake?” Her voice was muffled against his throat.
He chuckled. “I am surprised you still sleep.”
“We’re on vacation.”
“And you would spend it sleeping?”
She cracked one eye open. “You don’t have Josie knocking on your door at first light every day.”
“Fair enough.” He tightened his hold on her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Then sleep, Ria. I promise no one will disturb you.”
He ran his fingers through her dark hair, trailing soothing power along her scalp until she surrendered back into the Fade. He was happy to let her sleep in; he had much to think about.
Solas expected to be nervous, but as he and Riallan walked toward the waterfall he could hardly keep the smile from his face. The mist coiled around them, drawing them closer together until her fingers laced with his. Her hand was warm in his, soothing and right.
The glen was perfect. The statues of Ghilan’nain rose out of the mist, guardians of the pool at their feet, its water clear and crystalline. He cast a glance at Riallan, saw how her eyes shone with wonder at the beauty of the scene.
She was perfect.
And you’re not, said that little voice in his mind. The one that warned him, all those months ago, that he would be unable to keep his distance from her. The one that’d promised this was inevitable. The word rang through him, vibrated in his veins, and something cold burrowed into his chest.
Riallan bumped his shoulder with hers, pulling him from his thoughts. Her smile could banish any chill, and with her hand in his and that look on her face, Solas couldn’t help but smile as well.
This was what he wanted. What she deserved. He would do the right thing for once in his life, and tell her the truth.
But when the moment came, he froze. She looked up at him with her wide eyes, those eyes that saw everything, that saw through him. That saw him.She waited, patient and expectant, for him to tell her this truth. This gift, this gesture to show what she meant to him.
What was he thinking? What could he possibly say that could adequately describe all that she meant to him? He had already told her she changed everything, that he felt the world change when he touched her for the first time. He told her, daily, that he loved her. Telling her his truth, revealing his plans and his identity, would prove nothing. Such a confession said nothing of his love and devotion — it would merely hurt her.
He could not do this.
Coward, said the voice and he knew it was right. It had been right all along.
He scrambled for another truth, something smaller, something that could replace the truth he’d intended. Something serious enough to warrant this trip…
“Your face.” Fenedhis, he was off to a bad start. “The vallaslin. In my journeys in the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean.”
“They honor the Elvhen gods,” she said. She gave him a questioning look, uncertain of where he was going with this.
Which was understandable, considering he wasn’t entirely certain himself.
He shook his head. “No. They are slave markings, or at least, they were in the time ancient Arlathan.” This would hurt her, he knew that. But not as much as that other, bigger truth. And besides, she herself had admitted that, if she could go back, she wouldn’t get the vallaslin at all.
Riallan blinked, looked away from him and swallowed. “So this is, what? Just one more thing the Dalish got wrong?” Tears shimmered in her eyes, but they did not fall.
“I’m sorry,” he said. And he was. Sorry that this was the better option, that it was the best he could come up with. Sorry that he’d followed his heart and not his head. Sorry that he took her hand and led her down a path that could only lead to pain.
Sorry that he’d let himself fall in love with her.
She shuddered against the tears and sighed. “We try to preserve our culture, and this is what we keep? Relics of a time when we were no better than Tevinter?”
That cut deep, deeper than she could know. “Don’t say that.” He held her gaze, made sure that every word he was about to say would be absorbed. He needed her to hear them. Needed her to know. “For all they got wrong, the Dalish did one thing right. They made you.”
She closed her eyes, shook her head, and tried to turn away from him. He held her, pulled her back to him, softened his voice to soften the blows he’d already dealt and hopefully the blows to come.
“I didn’t tell you this to hurt you. If you like, I know a spell…” He paused, wondered if this was the right thing to do. If offering to remove the vallaslin might offend her, now that she was the last of her clan. But it was too late now. “I can remove the vallaslin.”
“These marks have been a part of me for so long. I-I don’t know if…” She blinked, and behind her eyes he could see her thoughts racing, weighing her options and what that would mean. Riallan was not an impulsive woman. She would not make a decision like this lightly.
“I’m so sorry for causing you pain. It was selfish of me.” This whole evening was selfish of him. It was meant to be a celebration, a night where he finally revealed all of his secrets and made himself truly known to her. It was the greatest gift he could think to give, the truth, and even that was selfish.
He had to run from it, for both their sakes. For the world’s sake.
“I look at you and I see what you truly are… and you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent.” Here was truth at last. Her vallaslin had always saddened him, that a spirit as vital and precious as hers would bear them for the rest of her life wounded him. No one should bear the marks of slavery, least of all someone he’d come to cherish.
He watched Riallan’s face, watched her work through his offer, and felt a rising sense of dread. He wanted to beg her, to plead that she let him give her this one gift. He knew now that it was all he could bring himself to give. And if she denied him this, he’d brought her here for no reason.
No good reason, anyway.
“Then cast your spell,” she said. “Take the vallaslin away.”
He smiled, relieved and pleased and proud of her decision. He knew what the vallaslin had once meant to her. He knew what they meant now that she was the last remaining member of Clan Lavellan. And still, she saw the truth in his words. Saw the truth in the past and trusted him.
It made him incredibly proud of her, and utterly disappointed in himself.
“Sit.” He guided her down to kneel on the shore of the pond, then sat to face her. He hadn’t used this particular spell in millennia, but he needed no practice. He’d used it so many times before he’d raised the Veil that he could never forget the tingle of energy on his palms, or the shimmer of pale blue light that caressed her face. Riallan closed her eyes as his hands passed upward over her face, her lips soft and parted, her expression calm.
He knew what she felt. He had been the first to experience it at Mythal’s hands, after she’d summoned him into this body. The spell had been new then, in need of perfecting. The magic had felt cool and refreshing until it snagged in his brow hard enough to leave a scar. A visceral introduction to physical life.
But he took care that his vhenan would feel no pain at his hands. He finished the spell, dismissing the magic and cradling her face in his palms, and took his first look at his beloved free of the marks that had claimed her for Dirthamen.
Over the last year Solas had looked upon Riallan enough times to memorize her face. He knew the curve of her lips, how they lifted when she saw him. He knew the delicate flutter of her lashes against her cheek as she slept. He thought he had catalogued every freckle, how they vanished into her frequent blushes, but without the vallaslin a whole new array of the marks were revealed to him.
She was breathtaking. A visage he could look upon for a thousand years, if time would only allow him. But he knew that time was simply something they did not have.
She opened her eyes and the trust in them shook him. After all of this, she still believed in him. She put her faith in him, a faith he did not deserve.
A faith he was about to destroy.
“Ar lasa mala revas,” he said. Ancient words that came to him as if by habit, completing the ritual. “You are free.” He helped her stand, marveled at her clear face, at the unchecked beauty that looked back at him.
Her eyes darted away, insecurity plain on her face. She was exposed in a way she had not been since she was a teen. The vallaslin had been a badge of pride, a mark that told the world she was Dalish, and one that told the Dalish she would be a good Keeper. A true steward of the lore and knowledge their people so desperately guarded.
But now all that was gone. She was just Riallan, an elf suddenly bared to the world.
He had always thought she was beautiful. Had told her so in so many words, had revered her body more times than he could count. She was beautiful, vallaslin or no, but he would tell her again if it would allay her fears. “You are so beautiful.”
She blushed a soft pink, a flush of pleasure, of relief. He’d told her once that blushing was her natural state. He’d drawn her with rosy cheeks more times than not and had cherished the sight every single time. This time was no different.
She tilted her face up to his, leaning in just enough to capture him in her gravity. In the months to come, Solas would tell himself that he tried to resist this last kiss, that he hadn’t wanted to hurt her more by indulging. Just more selfish lies to ease his own suffering.
His lips found hers as inevitably as the water poured over the cliff and into the pond below. He had never been good at denying her, at denying himself her touch. Her love. And so he languished in her kiss, savoring the bittersweet flavor of wine on her breath and hating himself more with every passing second.
Because he knew what must come next.
There was no easy way to do this. Not when she felt so right pressed against him. So he did the only thing he could — he pulled away.
Riallan looked up at him, confusion shining in her too-bright eyes. He tried to keep his expression blank, but she saw something in his gaze all the same. She always did see too much. Confusion turned to concern, her brows furrowing, and then concern shifted into fear. She opened her mouth to speak, but Solas beat her to it.
If she spoke first he would lose his nerve.
“And I am sorry.” Every word was agony, a dagger between each and every rib. And still, he continued. “I distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again.”
Shock rippled across her face, shock and then fury. “Wait. What?” She crowded him, and they had already been so close. “You bring me here, take the vallaslin from my face, and now you just end it?”
He wanted to flinch, to shut his eyes and look away, but he couldn’t. She deserved at least his full attention while he broke both their hearts.
“I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “Tell me you don’t care.” She spat each word at his feet.
He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
She took another step toward him. “Tell me I was some casual —“ she pushed him “— dalliance so I can call you a cold-hearted—“ and again “— son of a bitch—“ and again as she followed him along the bank of the pond “— and move on!”
He made no attempt to stop her. Every press of her hands to his chest was warranted. Earned. She could have called down a storm of lightning on his head and he would not lift a finger in his defense. He deserved all of her wrath and more.
“I’m sorry.” His voice broke on the word and his grasp on his composure shattered.
His show of emotion cooled her anger and brought a quiver to her bottom lip. “Solas…” She stepped toward him, her hands reaching for his.
He stepped out of her reach. “Please, vhenan.”
She followed him. “Solas… don’t leave me. Not now. I love you!”
At last, the words he’d waited months to hear. But hearing them now, pained on her lips, he would sooner take a blow to the head from her staff. Had he really believed, deep down, that she’d avoided saying it because she didn’t truly love him? After everything? After all the nights shared in easy silence, the adoring look in her eyes when she watched him paint? After the mornings he woke to her blinking back the Fade to smile at him from across the pillows? After the dreams shared, the secrets too? Had he truly been such a fool?
She stood in the glen, a beautiful waterfall behind her, with tears on her cheeks as she confessed her love and reached for him.
Yes. He had been such a fool, and now they both paid the price.
Solas shook his head and stepped away from her. He tried to steel his voice, but still it trembled. “You have a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world —“
“Why not this one?” She pursued him, her hands reaching again, as if she could make this right if she could only touch him. And perhaps she could.
Instinctively, he raised his hands to ward her off. He might as well have frozen her in place. The hurt on her face cut him deep, mirrored his own terrible ache deep in his chest.
“I can’t.” He kept walking backward, shaking his head, as if this were the Fade and he could simply banish this terrible dream for them both. But he couldn’t. He knew the price when he took this path. He’d tried to warn her, to tell her she’d be better off if they never explored these feelings, but he’d been too weak to deny her.
Never again.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough and fragile. And then he turned away from his vhenan, the only woman who had ever truly loved him, and walked away.
And though it felt like dying, like the Void itself had clambered into the hole where his heart should be, he knew that, in the long run, this was the kindest of cruelties.
