The music of the Winter Palace danced in the air, evaporating as it hugged the intimate pair standing in the crisp, cool air swaying, more out of habit than any attempt at keeping the facade of dancing, to the quieting sounds of the strings. They held each other with desperation: Solas with his hands at her hips, the Inquisitor with hers around his neck. Both digging, wanting, taking each other in with each breath.
The Inquisitor's first brush with the infamous,"Game" had proven fruitful, if not also taxing on the high society neophyte. Her clothes torn and bloodied from battle, she originally sought the desolate balcony out as sanctuary from the endless questions, comments, and glances that only doubled after saving the Empress from her familial usurper and hired knives, a fleeting moment for meditation. The Inquisitor now found herself reinvigorated by Solas' unexpected lust in his touch and yearning in his eyes. Their kisses ebbed and flowed with feral desire and gentle passion. Solas' hands hoovered from their anchored grips on her hips, sliding along every curve of her hard earned body in an attempt to find any and every secret spot, savoring in her soft sighs when he inevitably found sweet success. The Inquisitor followed suit, kissing and sucking her way down from his swollen lips to his jaw line to the scarlet of his jacket, her fingers fighting the need to rip into him. His fingers flirted with the lines of her clothes, conflicted by their setting and the increasingly muted screaming of his own reservations. The momentary silence of the night was painted with the soft brushing of the trees, their collected heated lust for exploration and…
"Ahem…"
The Inquisitor's eyes drained as she looked over Solas' shoulder, both relieved and angered to find Dorian leaning on the frame of the door, his face teeming with mischief. "By the Dread Wolf…," the Inquisitor hissed as Solas turned the toward the unwelcomed guest, moving his hands behind his back, his typical stoic nature claiming the once lustful gaze," Dorian, what could I possibly do for you at this very moment?," the Inquisitor questioned. Dorian let out a short, but full laugh,"Well, despite how fun it has been spying on you two little love birds, I was sent to collect the both of you so we may finally return to our humble abode...that is unless you two have decided to settle down right here on this very balcony, in which case, I'm sure Empress Celene would be very understanding and perhaps even thrilled to have the Herald and her "elf servant" as neighbors! Oh, I can see the little children now...bald and dripping with sarcasm." Dorian's arms folded, a sly grin took over his face, and his eyebrow raised as he awaited a retort from either elf.
The Inquisitor was the first to reply, mirroring Dorian's stance, "Actually, we had planned to claim the entirety of Halamshiral and jump start an elvhen renaissance, but now that you are here, I suppose we could return to Skyhold and post-pone our plans, at least until Corypheus is dealt with. What say you, Solas?" Solas' eyes widen, fumbled a series of sounds that resembled a yes, nodded his head, and cursed the fact that he allowed himself to imbibe in as much wine as he did, following the Inquisitor inside while Dorian poorly hid a chuckle.
The Inquisitor sat beside Dorian, sitting crookedly against the window deep within his slumber. The young elf found herself fighting the slow lulling of the rhythmic repetition of the carriage's wheels against the land, using the last of her energy to against the heavy of her eyelids. Solas sat across from her hard in thought, indifferent to cole who laid sweetly curled into his lap, much like a kitten after a long day of playing with string. Solas could not stop replaying the evening's events in his mind. He had spent the entire evening bewitched by her graceful maneuvering of "The Game" and battle, rushing past him countless times: smiling, giggling, biting her tongue to win the approval of the Orlesian nobility. Despite her subtly panicked stricken face, she ruled the ballroom. It had been, what very well could have been, an eternity since he had seen political intrigue presented in such a lush manner...and her actions on the balcony.
He shot a glance toward his fellow elf. Too many luxuries had been allotted this evening...too many pleasures. Mistakes that he would need to fix, that he would need to regret, but he found these so called necessities impossible to summon as he peeked at the near slumbering Lavellan, her head bobbing and jolting, the pointless struggle against the begging sleep. Solas reached out with his bare foot against her leg, slowly stroking her calf, "Ma Vhenan, allow yourself to rest." His eyes softened and rested against hers, already half filed with sleep. "What? Sleep and miss the rare beauty of silence in this company? I think not," her voice husky and low, heavy with the oncoming slumber matched with a slow moving smile. Solas felt the all too familiar desire to touch her creep through his veins, pumping through his entire body, until the tips of his fingers were heated with lust, moving under their own command towards the Inquisitor.
"Wanting..."
"Weary..."
"Waning…," Cole murmured as he readjusted himself in Solas' lap. The honest words brought an abrupt end to Solas' unconscious movements. Dorian's soft snoring complimented the notes of the carriage. Solas' once extended hand now supported his own increasingly heavy head against the side of the carriage, as solemn smile etched itself into his face as he gazed toward the peacefully unaware Inquisitor, having finally succumbed to the sweet song of sleep.
"Ir abelas, ma vhenan...," Solas' eyes fluttered shut, leaving him with wishes of another world.
[ This is my first ff and I wrote this after several glasses of wine, so any corrections/constructive criticism is more than welcomed.]
