This is something super self indulgent and I’m pretty happy with it

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone :)

The Promise Braid

— (Solas & Te’lise Lavellan)

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“My Heart, you have been naughty,” Solas purred with deceptive softness as he approached. “I believe you have something of mine?”

Te’lise blushed bright pink at the suggestiveness of his tone, growing dizzy at the way his hips swayed with each step as he closed the distance between them. “I– yes.” Her voice shook. She cleared her throat. “I do.”

Solas halted a mere breath’s distance away. He peered down into her face with undisguised curiosity.

Growing warm under his gaze, she hastily added, “I wasn’t stealing it. I– didn’t– steal it. Erm… I had a gift for you in mind. Actually.”

Solas cocked a brow. “You wished to regift my necklace to me? How generous of you, Vhen’an. “

Te’lise swatted his chest with her free hand, rolling her eyes at the boyish grin that he bent towards her. “Oh, I might as well just come out with it,” she sighed. “Here. Your hand, please?”

Solas obeyed, watching her with soft eyes as she withdrew her own hand from behind her back to rest his jawbone necklace gently upon the surface of his palm.

“What’s this?” Solas asked, breaking his gaze to blink down at his jawbone in surprise. He brushed his fingers over the viridescent tassel attached to it, wondering, and Te’lise began to blush in earnest.

“In my Clan,” she said quietly, “When two Elvhen begin courting, they exchange these, Promise-Braids, to symbolize their commitment to one another. Normally they would be woven in one’s hair beside the Life-Braid, but… well…” The two of them simultaneously glanced up at the smoothness of Solas’s head.

“Ah, yes. I could see how that could pose a problem,” he said with a wry smile. His mirth faded into something tender when he took notice of the pink hue of Te’lise’s face, and the way her hands trembled. “This means a lot to you.”

Te’lise sighed shakily. “I never thought that I would be in this position,” she admitted, resisting the urge to curl in upon herself in the wake of her own vulnerability. “I was… not seen as desirable among the Dalish, you see. I was too weak and too sick. None of the males wished to tie themselves to someone they weren’t even sure would outlive the decade. I had made my peace with their misgivings, deciding that I could be useful to the People in ways other than marriage or motherhood. So to be here now, with you… to hear you call me…”

“Vhen’an.” Solas whispered.

Te’lise’s eyes burned. She cleared her throat, forcing lightness. “Well. I wished to show you my appreciation by offering you a courting gift the proper way.”

Solas was silent for a long moment. Just Te’lise was beginning to worry that she had offended him with her candor, he said in an unreadable tone, “The colour. It matches your eyes.”

Said eyes widened as mortification crashed through Te’lise in waves. “Oh, Gods,” she moaned, raising a hand to her face. “I promise, that was not my intention–“

And then he was kissing her.

Her world was suddenly consumed by Solas; the way his towering form enveloped hers, the heated brush of his skin through his tunic, a strong hand gripping her hip and gently guiding her to lie back against the grass.

“My Heart, my Heart,” he murmured against her lips, chanting the two syllables like a desperate prayer. “Ar lath ma, Vhen’an.”

Te’lise’s eyes burned. How long had she waited to be told those three words? She began returning his kisses in earnest, pulling away just enough to pepper them across his freckled nose, his cheekbones, his closed eyelids, conveying her deep admiration with her lips against heated skin.

Eventually they parted, panting, staring at one another with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. Solas surprised her with a grin, his chest heaving. He looked so happy.

“I take it that you don’t disapprove?” She asked shyly, and Solas began to laugh.

“Disapprove? I could never disapprove of you.” He bent down close enough that Te’lise could admire the way the fading sunlight caught his eyes, illuminating them silver. “I will treasure it, always.”

Her chest warmed. Not trusting herself to speak in that moment, Te’lise grabbed his tunic and yanked him down, muffling his surprised laughter with her lips upon his own.

A Bunch of Solas Heads

— (Solas)

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I felt like I was losing touch with Solas’s essence whenever I’d draw him, so I decided to redesign him in my style with a fresh perspective. It worked! I no longer despair at drawing one of my most favourite characters.

“Solas, var lath vir suledin”

<What is the old Dalish curse? “May the Dread Wolf take you”?>

“I have no idea as to why you keep on protecting the Inquisitor’s dreams from me, I am no threat to her”

“No, you are not, but she has secrets…dangerous ones, and I know you are after them, Dread Wolf”

The Trouble with Wolves Part 1. (Read Preface down below for some context.)

            The day started with a mission, a mission just like any other: someone needed the Inquisition and the team rose to the challenge. The job was a small one; a pack of possessed wolves terrorized a small area of the Hinterlands, near Redcliffe. This time, it would just be three of them; Cassandra, Solas and the Inquisitor herself, Nanyla Lavellan. They had been wandering the Hinterlands most of the morning, as the sun reached its highest peak in the sky when they found a cave. Bones littered the ground at the entrance, blood and flesh pooled in depressions of the stone floor further in. Nanyla ventured towards the cave, she found a bit of cloth on the ground and picked it up to observe it.

           “This must be the wolves’ lair,” said Cassandra, they sneaked up to the cave entrance, Nanyla leaned in and listened for a moment. The sound of the air moving through the cave masked whatever noise the wolves were making. She signaled for her friends to stay back as she ventured further in. She ventured into the cave and was swallowed in darkness. Nanyla kept her hand pressed against the damp wall of the cave as she walked. She could feel something crunch underfoot as she went along, she didn’t stop to find out what it was; though, she could hazard a guess. Just a few minutes later, she saw a light and followed it. The ceiling of the cave opened up and sunlight poured in. From her hiding place in the dark, she could see the pack, they were agitated, pacing and fighting amongst each other. There were perhaps less than a dozen or so wolves, some looked weak and ill, others looked more formidable. Above them, on a ledge sitting on a sun-warmed stone was a demon lounging and watching his thralls below. It was tall and lean with long limbs reaching disproportionate lengths. Its disturbing form was covered in dull, sickly green flesh with darker scaly patches covering its crooked joints. Nanyla took stock of this creature from the Fade and crept carefully back to her comrades. She told them what she found in the back of the cave. Solas furrowed his brow.

           “Sounds like it could be a lesser terror demon,” he said flatly, “It will not be difficult to defeat with the three of us.” Nanyla nodded and thought for a moment.

           “Okay then, Cassandra and I will take the wolves. Solas, you’ll take the terror from a distance. I’ll help you if I can.” Nanyla’s voice was smooth and calm as she gave out her plan. She was confident in her friends and her ability to lead, she had been doing it a while by now. She looked at her friends, she watched them prepare themselves for the fight.

           “Ready?” she asked, a crooked smile curling her lips. Cassandra and Solas readied themselves; Solas closed his eyes, inhaled and charged his staff. Cassandra drew her sword, rolled her neck back and forth, loosened her shoulders and took her shield from it’s place on her back. Nanyla drew an arrow, readied it on her bow and she cracked her neck. She beckoned them to follow and led them through the dark cave to the pack and the demon. The few moments of darkness were unbearably tense and quiet. She found the light again, she made sure her companions saw it too. She slid up to the edge of the darkness and drew back her bow and aimed at one of the stronger looking wolves. She breathed in, paused, then out, she steadied her hand. With a twang, her arrow flew true to it’s target, it stuck in the wolf’s neck. It yelped and collapsed drawing the attention of the rest of the pack and the demon. There was a moment of complete silence in the chamber since the pack moved in there. The next moment Cassandra charged forward, fierce as a dragon she slayed her adversaries, one after the other. As quick as lightning, Nanyla drew another arrow, aimed, and fired; down went a wolf that weaseled its way behind Cassandra. She stepped out from the shadows and caught the eye of a few wolves, they charged her, but she was quicker. Arrow after arrow, she fired nearly as fast as Varric’s Bianca. Solas leapt onto a ledge close to Nanyla and worked his Fade magic on the terror demon. The demon roared its fury; it stretched its ugly arms above its head, slammed them on the ground. Raking its ragged claws across the ground, it tore open a portal on the stone, then it slipped through. A moment later, Nanyla felt a force lift her off the ground and slam her back down. She was face to face with the terror, it raised a clawed hand but was pushed away with a blast from Solas’s staff. Nanyla jumped up and pulled a pair of daggers from her hip. She lashed out at the demon and left a long, open gash on its front. She kicked it backward and it stumbled long enough for Solas to finish it off with a veilstrike. She watched the demon fall the ground and fade away, she turned to Solas and nodded a silent thanks. A few wolves slipped past them, escaping through the cave’s entrance. Their howls created an eerie sound that nearly deafened them. Once the howling subsided, Nanyla could still hear fighting, she looked around and saw Cassandra still fighting three of the wolves. Two of them held her attention to the front while one dodged behind her. Nanyla took aim, but it was too late. It had leapt up onto Cassandra’s back and latched onto her neck. She fell, her sword and shield clattering out of her grasp.

Nanyla dropped her daggers and gabbed her bow once more. She notched, took aim, and immediately loosed an arrow, it missed by mere inches. She watched as the other two wolves closed in, each taking a turn to tear at the woman now pinned to the ground. Blood-curdling shrieks, the sounds of claw against metal, the sound of tearing, cries of pain, snarling, and growling now filled the space of the chamber. Nanyla watched in frozen horror at the writhing mass of fur and armor and limbs on the ground. She focused hard, reloaded, fired, and struck one of the wolves in the eye, it fell where it stood. She aimed again, but a ball of fire arched past her and knocking the remaining two back. One of the wolves stood up and ran off, the other reared back and fell over, dead. Cassandra did not move.

“Cassandra?” Nanyla’s voice rang too loudly in the small cavern. Still, there was silence and stillness as Cassandra’s crumpled form lay on the ground. They ran to their fallen companion and saw the damage that had been done to her.

The smell of burning hair and flesh made the two of them grimace, the sound of simmering flesh still whispered its presence on the burned wolf. Cassandra’s armor had been wrenched away, the leather straps holding it in place having been chewed and ripped like parchment in the fray. It was mottled in blood, dirt, and saliva; nicked and scratched and bent, it hung haphazardly from her body. Her clothes had been shredded and tattered underneath as open wounds poured blood onto what were once fresh garments, staining them dark red. Blood pooled around her body and soaked into the grass and dirt around her.

Quickly, Nanyla knelt down and gently rolled Cassandra onto her back. She let out a soft gasp as she saw the marks left by the wolves on Cassandra’s face, marks sure to leave new scars. She hovered a hand closely over Cassandra’s nose and mouth, Nanyla could feel the slight warmth of her breath brush against her damp palm.

“Solas, she’s still- she’s still alive, give me a potion!” she said, panic rising in her chest. Solas had already been rummaging through his satchel as fast as his hands would allow when he saw how extensive the damage was. A potion was already in Nanyla’s hand before she finished speaking. She pulled the stopper out with her teeth, tilted Cassandra’s head back gingerly, and carefully poured the clear potion between her parted bloody lips. It seemed like an eternity before Nanyla could feel her stirring, the blood seemed to have staunched itself; Cassandra gasped then coughed, a globule of blood spattered against Nanyla’s face as more trickled down out of the corner of Cassandra’s lips. Her eyes fluttered as her hand shot up and grasped at Nanyla’s coat, her lapel now in a vice grip in the Seeker’s fist. Nanyla looked up at Solas with desperation, “Please, there must be more you can do, a spell, anything,” she pleaded. Solas nodded.

“There is something. Please, give me some room,” he said softly, kneeling down next to them. He set his staff to the side and took a deep breath. Nanyla scooted over to give him space to work. Solas raised his hands in front of him and closed his eyes. He began to mutter Elvhen under his breath, his face contorted into one of deep focus and concentration as he moved his hands to hover over Cassandra’s body. Slowly, he moved his hands over her, blue streams of light emitted from his fingertips and laid over her wounds and began to sink in. Some of the shallower wounds seemed to begin to close. At the same time, Cassandra jolted, arching her back, as an excruciating wail flew from her throat. Nanyla darted around to Cassandra’s other side to hold her hand, cooing softly to her. As Solas chanted, Cassandra became more and more agitated, her face twisted with pain and she agonized under his steady hands. “Hold her still, I am not finished,” Solas said sharply, sweat beading over his brows. Nanyla placed her hands on either of Cassandra’s shoulders to hold her down, still shushing and cooing, mainly to Cassandra, but also to calm herself.  The light seemed to grow brighter with each passing second as Solas continued to chant in Elvhen more fervently. Cassandra’s eyes shot open and rolled back as she let out one last scream and fell limp under Nanyla’s grasp. Solas’s shoulders went slack and his hands fell to his thighs, the blue light faded from him. “I’ve done what I can do for now, but she needs to get to Skyhold.” He said, his breathing was labored and ragged and his voice was hoarse.

“We are days away, Solas,” Nanyla’s voice was racked with panic, she fought to stay calm as Cassandra laid unconscious between them. “What did you do to her?” Nanyla’s eyes darted over Cassandra’s body, still riddled with large deep wounds, blood seemed to bubble up over them, fighting against magical barriers.

“I did what little healing I could do. I imagine the pain became quite unbearable, she must’ve lost consciousness because of it.” He said, standing up, his breathing still heavy. Solas held out a hand to help Nanyla stand. She could see his fingertips trembling, she imagined the energy it took from him just to do what he did. She took it and stood beside him, looking down at Cassandra. Nanyla could feel her knees begin to quiver. Her mind began racing, thinking where to go, what to do. Then a thought ocurred to her: the next best place to take Cassandra would be the camp near Redcliffe Farms, where Master Dennet kept his horses.

“The farm, Solas, we could bring her to the camp on the farm, they could have a field nurse,” she said quickly, her voice became thin as her adrenaline raced through her. Again, Solas didn’t say much, he simply nodded and knelt down to try to carry Cassandra. Nanyla bent down to help. They spent a few moments to try and work together to arrange Cassandra comfortably between the two of them.

The Trouble with Wolves Preface

So, lots of people are familiar with Dragon Age and its installments. I love DA:I, it’s one of my absolute favorite games of all time. 

I also love dark fantasy, which DA is, but I wanted to take it further. I always had this idea that healing potions should hurt like a bitch. I mean, when something, like a traumatic wound, is healing, it usually itches, or aches to some degree. Well, a healing potion greatly hurries the healing process along, magnifying the speed of the rate of healing, right? So, my next thought would be, “so would the aches and itches be magnified too?” I mean, you could say “magic is a painkiller,” but what fun would that be? And what fun would it be if it didn’t leave scars or if the process of healing magic and potions wasn’t fully known and therefore not very powerful?

This au fic is just me running through that idea. It’s kind of this idea of sort of blending the difficulty and poor survival chances of Dark Souls into what I already love about Dragon Age, which is a lot.

Elgara Lavellan. Touched by the whispers of the well with hints of how to redeem her lover.

Peony: Romances, beauty in all forms <with or without vallaslin>, bashfulness, shame, honor and pride

Felandaris : weakness in the veil, trauma, deep hurt, bloodshed or damaged

Embrium: helps one breathe deep <find new breath>

Prophet’s Laurel :symbol of Mercy and healing, purification

https://ko-fi.com/G2G77K9P

If you enjoy my work please consider throwing me a ko-fi. Currently going to help replace my computer so I can draw more!

The Taming of Fen’Harel chapter 6 is up on AO3! Happy Friday!