After the fall of Corypheus Skyhold witnessed a celebration that put even the Val Royeaux balls to shame. Guests hurriedly arrived from every corner of the land; some were high-bred court officials whilst others were little better than poor farmers from the Hinterlands. That was the beauty of Skyhold, however, and the Inquisition; tonight everyone was equal. Everyone could drink, sing muddled ballads, and dance to their hearts content. Inside the great hall the fires were lit and great banners featuring the Inquisition crest hung from the ceiling. Needless to say there was plenty of entertainment; anyone who could sing or play an instrument was eagerly doing so and the mixture of tunes made the guests giddy with excitement. By one of the fireplaces Varric was enthralling guests with stories greatly exaggerated by ale and Dorian was entertaining a very shapely man nearby a singer. Laughter echoed freely around the hall, free and unguarded; for who could be sad at a time such as this?
She left the great hall and walked out into the glimmering courtyard. Vivienne had worked her magic well; twinkling lights decorated the hedges and seemed to float above the guests. People were more rowdy out here with wild and undisciplined dancing. For once the great gates were open and unbarred.
Levellan remained on the edge looking in, exchanging words with those close to her, but otherwise keeping herself to herself. She was tired, so utterly exhausted from that final fight. Her limbs felt heavy and weak at the same time. Her hands, so used to clutching her powerful staff, were now free and instead holding a tankard of ale. She took a sip, allowing the vile taste to wash over her. Yes they had won. She had led the Inquisition to victory when so many, including herself, has doubted her. She had every expectation of meeting her doom...but somehow, here she stood. The aching feeling of being alive was a glorious one.
She watched them, her friends, but felt separated somehow. The anchor on her palm was stinging, reminding her gently of what she was and what she faced. She had never asked to become their Inquisitor. She considered for the hundredth time how her world was so different now to that of her simple existence before.
"The anchor is bothering you."
She looked over her shoulder and immediately felt a chill sweep through her body, making her catch her breath. Solas always had the ability to make her feel young and awkward no matter what. He was standing behind her but at a respectable distance so that his intentions were visibly clear. His elegant hands were hanging by his sides but she remembered - in flashes - the feel of those warm hands on her arms, her back, her face. The sight of him made her heart soar but it was quickly stifled when she remembered that he no longer wanted that. Wanted her. He had banished her and her vallaslin in one foul stroke.
The last time she had seen him was just after the final fight, over Corypheus's smashed orb. He had been so sad then, so cryptic in his words. She hadn't expected to see him so soon.
"Sometimes. It's nothing I can't handle."
He inclined his head. "I have no doubt about that. You are...formidable."
This made her turn to face him properly. In the firelight his pale face looked warm and inviting and she saw that he was wearing a half smile on his lips.
He continued, "you should be dancing. Celebrating your victory."
She thought about the time they had danced after Empress Celene's ball. Come! Dance with me. Before the band stops playing. A lifetime ago.
"I'm tired," she returned shortly. "It's been a very long day. I did try and sneak up to my quarters but Sera caught me and said I needed to join her in a drinking game. I think she's passed out under a table somewhere." Even as she said it she stifled a yawn. It felt odd to be talking to him like this...as though they were nothing to each other, which she supposed they were now. She used to enjoy asking him questions and learning about him and his ideas but that seemed off limits now.
"I would expect nothing less from her," he replied with a low chuckle.
A few minutes of silence passed while they watched the tipsy dancers. "I thought you had gone," she said quietly. "Disappeared into the Fade or some other far away realm. You seemed so... defeated after Corypheus."
"I have many things on my mind. Which brings to me to why I have sought you out, would you allow me a moment?"
This she did not expect. Ever since their time at the waterfall he'd actively avoided being alone with her. They still battled side by side but he never sought her out. She shrugged her reply and followed him away from the lights and merry music. He led them away from the festivities and up the blacksmith steps to the battlement walls where Hawke used to spend so much time. It was truly beautiful up here; on one side was the glittering celebrations below and the other side overlooked the dark vast snowy mountains. In other circumstances she would have been pleased to be alone with him here surrounded by so much beauty...but now it was like a bad humoured joke.
"Tarasyl'an Te'las," Solas murmured, as if to himself. She preferred the name Skyhold for the stronghold, it was so high up that it felt like they were sailing through clouds.
Finally he stopped and turned to her.
"The anchor you bear, it will grow worse. I have the means to soothe it, however, if you would permit me?"
Tentatively she held out her marked hand and he took it, his eyes flashing as his magic engulfed her. The mark flared up with a crackle but when he was done it settled down with hardly any pain. "It should be stable for now."
He was still holding her hand. She breathed in and could feel the cold trace of his magic still lingering in the air. It was intoxicating, like a scent that she could breath in forever. "It feels better. Thank you."
Her eyes took in his face now they were up close. She saw a scrape on his cheek from their previous battle but, like her, he had bathed his injuries and changed out of his bloodstained armour.
"I feel ashamed of how I spoke to you. Before our final fight," Solas said quietly. He always spoke mildly, unless he was really angry. He had a rich, educated accent that spoke of books and knowledge. "I...I wanted to tell you something, but I grew afraid. You had...still have...bewitched me, Len, mind and soul. I am not myself around you. My thoughts become clouded and I get distracted from my purpose."
He fell silent but she didn't speak. She felt there was more he wanted to say and wasn't going to help him get there.
"I am a different man than the one you think you know. You are so good...so young and yet you have shown such wisdom and perception. Traits I myself applaud. Yet you know compassion and kindness, even to those undeserving of it. You are a better person than me, by far. To see you, unblemished and unmarked by your vallaslin, is to see a true champion."
"I told you I loved you and you walked away. I hated you in that moment," she admitted.
"I deserved your hatred, and more."
"If you think so highly of me you might've given me an explanation. I may be young but I'm no fool, Solas." She had used his name so many times before while shouting across a battlefield or planning a new strategy. It felt comfortable on her lips, more so than even her own name.
Solas reached out and pushed back a strand of her thick braided hair, all the while looking at her face. She felt herself burn under his touch. "If you knew me, as I truly am, you would despise me. You would regret ever knowing me and you would fight me. I cannot be with you, vhenan."
She had known liars, spies, mages, templars. She'd seen evil in the rift and knew it came in many forms. He had fought it with her.
"You say you're a different man to my Solas, but I will not believe it. You have always been my friend, my guide, my saviour. I will always think of you as such."
"I wish it were so, Levellan." He looked at her so sadly. "I am leaving in the morning. Before daybreak. I just wanted to..." Here words seemed to fail him.
"Say goodbye?" she finished for him. She clenched her fists although she had expected it. For one impulsive moment she wanted to speak up and say she'd go with him. She wanted to say she'd follow him anywhere...but she had more self-respect than that. She was the Inquisitor after all, she had work to do even though evil had been momentarily pushed back. She even thought about attacking him, hurling a ball of fire or ice at him. Freeze him so that he couldn't go anywhere. Her feelings flared up inside her chaotically.
And that was something he loved about her, supposedly.
He didn't reply and so she stared up at him. She traced the familiar lines of his face - his straight nose, his bright clever eyes, his almost sensuous lips - like someone who was drowning; for would she ever be this close to him again? If this was to be it, she wanted as much of him as she could keep with her.
"If you are to leave me with just a memory, hahren, then you'd better make it a good one."
Her arms snaked around his neck as she met his lips with all the anger, sadness, and love she could muster.
She tasted warmth and the delicious trace of his magic. She didn't know what to expect - but he was all of a sudden kissing her back just as passionately. His hands roamed across her back and behind, and his fingertips left traces of fire wherever they touched. A hand tangled in her long hair and he suddenly pulled it back, making her hiss out in pain and pleasure.
His mouth was on her neck, biting and kissing her flesh and sending shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the feeling. Her own hands wandered around his shoulders, urging him closer and closer. Their magic entwined, causing the air around them to whisper and crackle with static force.
He pulled away and she saw desire etched across his face. They had both wanted this for so long, after all the teasing and long looks. She had dreamt about this before while alone in her huge Inquisitor bed - wondering what it would feel like to have him against her, in her. On those lonely nights she had soothed those aches herself but tonight she would demand every part of him.
She kissed his mouth, his cheek, his neck. Anything she could reach. He dipped his fingers under the hem of her shirt and groaned when he felt the soft smooth flesh of her small breasts. He removed his hand and she punished him by scratching down his back. Hard.
Suddenly he pushed her back, forcefully, against the carved stone wall.
His hands roamed her body, taking in all the lithe curves and slim limbs that had been hidden from him for so long. Her body utterly surrendered beneath his touch and after a few minutes she was panting with her desire for him. This was all so thrilling, so raw, so new...
"Solas..."
Perhaps he already knew. When it came to removing her cloth leggings and small clothes he was cautious and slow, allowing her time to object if she wanted. She felt foolish at first to be so bare but when he resumed his caresses she found she no longer cared. The cold stone behind her scratched her but she found it pleasing - something real to keep her from drifting off into the Fade.
When he touched her there she had to stifle a moan. His fingers, so beautifully long and graceful, were gentle but assured. Soon he had her shivering and impatient for more. She thought she was the one who had lost control but when she met his clever eyes she saw starved desire and longing there.
"You are magnificent, my Levellan." He slipped another finger inside her and she tilted her head back. "Emma Lath."
Before she could respond he dropped to his knees and then he was suddenly there, with his mouth on her. She swore and put her hands on his head, urging him both closer and away. His tongue was licking her, caressing her, devouring her. She felt herself becoming undone before him. She wanted him now. "Sahlin now, Solas."
He rose obediently and she undid the belt of his tunic with trembling hands. When he was free from his smallclothes he used a hand to tilt her head up and he kissed her flushed face. With his arms around her, he lifted her up as though she weighed nothing and pinned her against the wall once more. Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist right away and she waited, biting her lip in anticipation.
He moved into her slowly at first, keeping a soft gentle rhythm. She kissed his neck and chest, feeling her body respond to him immediately and loving him for it. Soon, however, he was hurrying his pace and she could feel him go deeper and deeper inside. She moved against him, wanting to take in every inch of him.
"Sahlin," she panted. "Solas."
He groaned and the sound struck her core. She felt a coil inside of her tighten and tighten...until suddenly she was there and she was crying out. She held onto him and nuzzled her face into his neck, letting the orgasm wash over her completely. When she drew back he immediately caught her lips and his movements hurried, becoming hurried and impatient. He was whispering things against her skin and in her haze she only caught about half of them.
When he came he grabbed hold of her hair again and moaned into her shoulder. She felt the strength of his body falter beneath her finger tips and when he was finished he set them both down on the cold stone floor.
She resisted the urge to gather him into her arms. The spell was broken now. She hurriedly pulled her clothes back on and he did the same.
The magic was over and yet she had never felt closer to him. She wanted him to carry her up to her bedchamber where they could make love all night but that was just a dream...He was leaving the Inquisition. Leaving her.
She had asked him to leave her with a memory but now, afterwards, she realised it had been the worst idea in the world. Now he was in her very veins, her body, her soul. The idea of him leaving her was too cruel. Too wicked.
She caught his eye and she saw torment there. She saw rage. She saw love.
Without another word she leant across and seized his lips for one final moment.
That would have to be enough.
The next morning when she entered the war room Cullen told her about Solas's early departure and she nodded, keeping her eyes set on the carpeted floor. She was the Inquisitor and she slipped on her mask. She had work to do.
Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Two months passed when she collapsed on her way to see Cullen. It was a beautifully sunny day and she was enjoying the light breeze on her face and neck when she became light headed. She put it down to too much training and not enough rest. A few days later she was sick in the morning, and then the following morning too. She took a day off from her duties and remained in her quarters. It was noon before she worked up the guts to send for Sara and the physician. A short conversation later confirmed what she had already guessed. She was not the most knowledgeable about these sorts of things but even she could add two and two together. She was pregnant.