a/n: so.. i know we're all waiting for updates on alistair and i'm working on about seven stories (original and fanfic alike) and i have to admit that i may have bitten off more than i can chew. but uhm. you know. here's this. because dragon age is eating me alive from the inside out and it hurts oh god.

pairing is M!Lavellan/Solas

the usual warnings apply: slash, angst, violence, language and GAME SPOILERS RIGHT AT THE BEGINNING.

we can go ahead and add explicit sex to the warnings (for later) since i can write those without squirming now. okay with minimal squirming, shut up.

From the Mouths of the Dalish

*Chapter I*

Solas heard it the first time, on their first meeting. Well, the first meeting where Lavellan was entirely conscious, anyway. Solas didn't like to think much on the half-waking nightmares that would cause him to thrash about and scream in Elven and sometimes in no real words in any language. He would tear blindly at the apostate who was trying to sooth him and soon, but never soon enough to save Solas from a few red welts from the boy's nails across his chest or his brow, he would calm, fall back into his slumber.

Upon closing that first rift, with a small amount of urging from Solas, the boy, Kirin, he had called himself, muttered softly so that the older elf could barely catch it, a curse that he had never heard. Not phrased so colorfully. Or at all really.

"By the Dread Wolf's sweaty nutsack, what have I gotten myself into?" he had wondered, looking helplessly at the mark on his hand.

Unlikely.

It was what crossed his mind as he squinted his eyes against the icy wind.

When it registered fully, Solas found the need to hide a sudden mirth, though he could not entirely. The corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly. Of all the parts to invoke in vain. He felt a mad hilarity and then a little offended. Also it was just so untrue. If anything it was shrinking up into him from the cold, though that one did come up much later, when Solas' armor of serenity was on the verge of shattering.

A story for another time.

This time, he was simply intrigued. Had yet to learn anything about the soon to be Herald of Andraste, but was entirely too keen to.

However, in the commotion after stabilizing the breach, there was very little opportunity to interact with Kirin Lavellan at all, and it wasn't until much later, perhaps a week and a half, that the Herald approached him, clad in his new, custom armor, stubbornly barefoot as Dalish were wont to be, and this to Cassandra's endless irritation, Solas knew.

"The Chosen of Andraste," he greeted, "blessed hero come to save us all."

Lavellan's mood was somewhat foul and he tensed at the title before trudging closer and asking good-naturedly, "Am I riding in on a shining steed?"

Solas relaxed a bit after that, relieved not to be treated as derisively by this elf, as he was used to.

"I'm not their Herald. Told them as much."

"Yes, well. Posturing is necessary, whatever you might say. We all have a common goal," Solas offered neutrally.

A moment of silence passed between the two, while Lavellan rocked on the balls of his feet, fidgeting apprehensively.

"Is there something you need?" Solas asked, since the other elf was clearly struggling.

Lavellan stood up a little straighter, not quite matching Solas in height even then.

"I've been asked to speak with a Chantry mother in the Hinterlands," he explained seriously, but his front fizzled out quickly and he decided to just ask Solas earnestly, "I appreciate what you've done for me already, Hahren, and do not want to seem ungrateful by asking favors so soon after, that is, before I have repaid you."

Solas smiled at the term of respect, knowing the direction this was going, but letting Kirin say it without interruption.

"I am yet unused to the company of humans, and your magical knowledge and skills far surpass mine. I had hoped you would accompany me on this journey."

"Yes, and I suppose a few others if you'll have me," Solas answered, curiosity peaking as he wondered why this elf appeared to be making such an effort not to offend. When talking to Varric he was borderline vulgar and with Cassandra, abrasive and antagonistic. Strangely silent around Solas.

Lavellan nodded curtly, dislodging bits of snow from his tar-black hair.

"You were a hedge mage before this?" Kirin questioned.

Solas bristled at the prying into his past, however harmless the question. "Why?"

"I know little about you," Kirin stated, "If it would make you more comfortable, you could also ask something of me.."

"It would not, but yes. I was. Hope to be again, though I'm staying for now."

"You think you would be held here, after?"

A spark of amusement lit Solas' eyes as he said, "Mages are dangerous when free, and I do not have the luxury of a divine mark to protect me when I am no longer of use here."

"I could always use you!" Kirin blurted, earning himself a pair of raised eyebrows. He hurried to correct himself, "What I meant was that there will never be reason for them to send you off to some tower. My presence guarantees your freedom, lethallin."

"Your easy familiarity betrays your age, Da'len." Solas regarded him seriously before continuing, "As does your naivety."

"Ir abelas, Hahren," he offered quietly, with the strained tones of talking through a clenched jaw, "I only meant that I would die before I see one of the people captured. Imprisoned." He snarled looking down at the ground, "These shems are the same as they've always been. It sickens me to run around doing their work.. but if it will save everyone.."

"Yes," Solas agreed, "Your options are limited, as are mine. Of course I will go with you. I'm glad to be of aid to you."

"Thank you," Lavellan breathed, looking strangely up at Solas. The expression wasn't readable and when the smaller elf's lips parted Solas glanced at the markings there and on his chin. Silvery white and gleaming on tan skin in the dusklight. Solas' unchecked study was abruptly interrupted by a swear from Kirin. The second time, and more unnerving than humorous.

"Dread wolf, strike me down," he sighed, "I've been spending too much time with the kitchen girls."

"I don't see what that has to do with inviting a god to smite you," he responded with a small smile. One he didn't feel. It grew a little though as he wondered, "Though I thought you mentioned a certain unease in human company. I suppose these kitchen girls must go through great pains to soothe your nerves."

The air around Kirin felt as if it was radiating warmth, and Solas chuckled.

"You should work on separating your feelings from your magic," he told him, raising his hands and warming them in Kirin's space idly, noting that the subtle invasion didn't seem to faze him much. "You're like a small campfire. It makes you far less intimidating."

"And what's so scary about a solitary mage who sleeps all day?" Kirin snapped.

Solas didn't answer for a moment. Darkness was taking the sky rapidly and he studied what stars he could already see.

"On that note," he finally said, "I believe I shall retire. Until tomorrow, Da'len." He turned and entered his small quarters, not waiting for the Herald's response. When he lay down, preparing to enter his dreams, he heard the quiet, reluctant answer.

"Sleep well, Hahren."

The soft footfalls led away through crunchy snow, and Solas followed the sound into the Fade.

*end chapter*

a/n: i also have this posted on ao3 which i didn't know existed until like three weeks ago and now that i know it's really kicked me in the but like WHY AREN'T I WRITING it is my soul's calling! so expect more. i know i've said it before but i've finally gotten all my nights and weekends off so i'll be having a lot more time to dedicate to my favorite pass-time. meanwhile here's this.

feedback is always appreciated. i'm sure you all know by now i'm a shameless harlot for reviews. ;3