For She Had Eyes
This is the non-smutty version of this chapter. If you would like to read the more explicit NSFW version you will need to venture to my AO3 page.
They rest - entwined together among moss and ferns - beneath the swaying arbor of oaks. Maera's head nestles against his chest, one arm flung across his torso, a long leg coiling around his. Solas idly strokes her hair, letting dark, silken strands trickle through his fingers. She stretches, languid and cat-like, a satisfied sigh tickling his skin. Her contentment draws a small smile of pride from him as he replays their tryst in his mind. Solas had thought she might be green and fumbling but she proved eager and adaptable, taking her cues from him. As in all things, a quick and earnest student. Their only stumbling block had been her layers of armour.
"It's only part of your imagination," he had tried to explain to her, demonstrating by willing his own robes to evaporate. Maera's hands stroked his chest in wonder, brows knitted as she tried to copy his example. Her hands balled into fists as she grunted in exasperation, looking down at her fully clothed body. "It's alright," he soothed, "this can be fun too." Diligently he had helped her out of the confines of her armour and she piled it neatly on a weathered rock. It had been fun in fact, slowly unravelling the bindings on her slender calves; like opening a long desired present.
"Solas?" Propping up on her elbows, she draws him from his contented musings. "If I am…" she begins uncertainly, "if I were to wake from this dream." He quirks an eyebrow, this is the first time she has actively contemplated her own nature without his prompting. "What if I never saw you again?"
"Whenever you are in the Fade, or beyond it," he gently cradles her face, holding her gaze with his own. "I promise, I will always come to you." Maera leans in, her forehead pressing against his. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you," he confesses, surprising himself. Maera's soft mouth brushes against his and he cups the back of her head, holding her close as he smoothly rolls her beneath him.
"I want to give you something," he murmurs, breaking the kiss.
"Again?" Maera arches an eyebrow at him, a smirk on her lips. He throws his head back, laughing without reservation. "I like the sound of your laugh," she says, caressing his jaw with the back of her knuckles.
"I do not recall a time I have ever felt so content," he replies earnestly, kissing her hand. Solas rears back to kneel, twining his fingers through hers to help her sit up. "I want to give you a gift. It's a memory of something a friend gave to me, long ago."
"Should you be giving it to me then?" He soothes her concern with another quick kiss, touched by her thoughtfulness.
"I think she would be happy for me to give it to you. I'm fairly certain she would laugh at me in fact." Thinking of Mythal brings to mind his younger self, brash and impulsive. Her death had changed him - hardened him - in ways he doubted even Mythal could have predicted.
"Laugh at you? Impossible!" Maera's eyes widen with exaggerated disbelief. "You're so serious."
"You tease me, but it's true," he chuckles as he rummages through the pile of her clothes. "She would laugh at what a sentimental, old fool I've become."
"Hmmm, there's nothing wrong with being sentimental," she replies archly.
"Alright," he drawls good-naturedly. He had told her he didn't mind being teased after all. Finally he finds the object of his search, the shard of crystal she has kept all this time. "May I?" He asks, holding it up and she inclines her head in assent; watching him with an amused, questioning expression. He drops the iridescent shard into her hand and cups both of his around hers. Solas imagines the pendant, a carving of a wolf's head and wills it into existence.
"The original was in onyx," he pulls away to reveal it. "I thought perhaps, you would like this better." She turns it over in her hand with a bashful smile, delicate fingers tracing its shape.
"It's beautiful," she whispers reverently.
"You are beautiful," he replies, picking it up and fastening the chain around her neck. Solas lingers, tracing the line of her collarbone, across her shoulders and down her arms. He grasps her waist and pulls her to her knees, holding her flush against him as he captures her mouth in another hungry kiss. Maera breaks from him with a sudden gasp, startling to her feet.
"Fenedhis!" he curses. She is armoured instantaneously as she leaps through the glimmering portal behind him. "Now she figures it out," Solas grumbles as he scampers after her. He dresses himself with an afterthought as he passes through the doorway.
The reason for her urgency is apparent, as he emerges in the midst of the Harrowing. The lingering energy of vanquished demons lies thick on the ground, yet still a Pride demon looms before them, holding a battered young mage by the throat. She has put up quite a fight, even now kicking and scratching at the demon as Pride dangles her in the air.
"Let her go!" Maera commands, Dar'misaan in hand, her body coiled to strike. The demon sneers at her, its mocking laugh deep and guttural.
"I heard there was a Dreamer," Pride growls, tossing the mage aside with a flick of its wrist. Adrenaline surges through Solas' body at the implication of its words, though Maera seems unmoved. He doesn't know if she is putting up a brave front or simply oblivious to the demon's intent.
"She has served her purpose, what other use is this pitiful girl to me? Trapped in a tower with no escape beyond death. I seek to be free in the world!" Pride charges with its head down, monstrous horns pointed at Maera.
She dodges to the side, blade glancing off the demon's jagged skin. He turns - impossibly fast - large talons raking the air where Maera had been but a heartbeat ago. Her blade sings, slicing faster than the eye can see. But every blow meets resistance, unable to pierce the beast's armour.
"You can't hide them from me," Pride snarls, "I will learn your darkest secrets." Maera ducks and weaves, staying only moments ahead of the grasping hands that can crush her with little resistance. She does not waste her energy engaging in banter with Pride, intent only on finding a weak point. "You bury them deep, but I can feel them, slithering like worms beneath the surface of your mind." It laughs, cruel and malevolent. "I will dig them out. You will break, they all break."
Solas can see her faltering, slowly driven back beneath the relentless attacks of the demon. He wills himself to change; to transform as he falls to all fours. A long snout and tail sprout from his body as he grows in size, dark and dreadful.
The mage lets out a whimper, her body writhing on the ground. It draws Maera's eye for a second and that is all Pride needs; snatching her up like a cat with a mouse. It knocks the Dar'misaan from her grasp as it pulls her toward its razor fangs. Daggers materialise in her hands and she thrusts one into Pride's gaping jaws. The demon rears back with a roar and Solas is upon him, piercing teeth latching onto the demon's shoulder. His claws rake gashes down Pride's back as Maera jabs at its throat, trying to wedge her dagger in between the armoured joints. Pride slams Maera to the ground and reaches over its head, attempting to tear Solas off. He holds fast, powerful jaws crushing through Pride's armour.
Maera scrambles out from under the demon's feet. She cradles the mage, trying to still the convulsions that tear through the girl. Pride manages to take hold of Solas and wrenches him from its body, tossing him at Maera. Solas twists in the air to land on his feet, large paws digging furrows in the ground to brake his momentum. He spits out the steaming chunk of Pride's shoulder that has torn away with him.
"Are you become a lap-dog now, Fen'Harel?" Pride hisses and Solas snarls in return, the demon's foul blood dripping from his maw. Beside him the mage suddenly cries out, terror marking Maera's face. A lyrium brand glows on the mage's forehead and a split-second later her spirit violently bursts apart, evaporating into the Ether.
"No," Maera whispers. She stares at her empty arms in a state of shock. Pride cackles maliciously and Maera's hands fist shut. Her arms shake as she screams, her rage palpable. Solas feels the crackle of energy radiating from her, his fur standing on end as it ripples over him. She shoots up from the ground and into the air. Solas cannot look at her without his eyes watering, for she is a white-hot flare, blazing with anger. Terror seizes the air in his lungs. He fears that her failure to rescue the mage has corrupted her, twisting her into a demon of rage.
Maera flings her arms wide as she floats above Pride, the demon snarling at her defiantly. She curls in on herself as she draws the very fabric of the Fade to her. A massive stone forms from the Ether - practically a mountain. As she thrusts her arms forward it slams down upon Pride and its open-mouthed shock. There is a loud, crunching pop, followed by a wet squish. The sound of a cockroach being ground underfoot; though the smell is a hundred times worse, fetid and rotten.
Maera folds limply to the ground, as though her strings have been cut and Solas races to her side. Returning to his normal form, he blindly takes her in his arms.
"I'm here Maera, ma vhenan!" he calls, her rage searing him. "Remember who you are."
"No!" she howls and his heart aches at the anguish in her voice. He recalls how she was when he first laid eyes on her, so aloof and untouchable. Being with him - slowly awakening - has made her vulnerable. Solas feels a pang of guilt; it's possible if he hadn't pursued her, she may never have known fear, pain and anger.
Pride would still have come for her, he thinks, trying to justify his choices. Deep down he suspects he would have always followed her - even knowing one day it might cause her great sorrow. He knows it is terribly selfish, but the thought of being without her is unbearable. He holds her closer, letting her burn him; stroking her arms and back as her anger slowly subsides. Solas scoops her up then, her head against his chest, hands twisting in his robe as she weeps.
Solas takes them back to the forest from whence they came. He settles them on the clover, holding her on his lap as she trembles fiercely. Gently he strokes her hair and whispers quiet words in the tongue of his people. Eventually she sniffles, going limp in his arms - emotionally and physically spent. They sit in silence for a time, their steady breathing the only sound in the grove.
Maera pulls up suddenly, her face stricken as she turns his hands over. She examines his body for burns, fingers trailing over him in panic. He gives her a reassuring smile, no harm she causes could mar him permanently. She holds surprising power indeed, but nothing to rival his own strength of will. Relief washes over her and she buries her face against his shoulder.
"You had me worried." Solas crushes her against him, planting feverish kisses on the top of her head; so relieved is he to have her back.
"You were a wolf," she utters incredulously.