Chapter 11 - Fond of You
Early Inquisition.
Feeling cloistered, sheltered by the Dalish, Lavellan was eager to make new bonds. She felt like she was finally striking out into the world and experiencing life itself, free to be herself. It was refreshing. She just wished she could have done it under better circumstances, without a hole in the sky, a madman and a glowing magic scar in her hand trying to kill her.
The early days of the Inquisition were a time to bond and develop friendships, and maybe something more. Lavellan mused to herself that she'd never intended to fall in love, especially with the sourpuss elven apostate that went by the name of Solas. He was a mystery to her, and she was curious. He was handsome, and she was attracted. While he would have been her first choice to flirt with, she was aware that she'd bungled up enough missions and tripped over her words so often that he saw her as a fool. He acted very haughty, very much the Hah'ren. She found herself rolling her eyes sometimes at his comments when he wasn't looking.
She tested the waters and was playful with her companions, wondering if any of them were interested in something more than friendship. Lavellan had kept a distance between herself and Solas after the map incident. When she became more comfortable around everyone in her retinue, she became more eager to explore her relationships with them.
The Dalish were very close-minded to outsiders, but she again didn't think she made a good Dalish elf.
She was open-minded.
She found that teasing them was an enjoyable way to pass the time. It was also an easy way to get more comfortable and let the others know she was open to… new experiences.
Maybe her companions would be interested in something casual? Not all of them, surely.
She caught herself staring at Blackwall one afternoon as they finished looting some bandits.
His beard and moustache were marvels really, constantly tearing her attention away from things that were actually important.
How did he grow them? They're so big…! Did they tickle?
Blackwall turned and glanced at Solas thoughtfully. "I've just realized I've never seen an elf with a beard."
Solas chuckled, "You haven't seen many elves then."
Lavellan felt her eyebrows rise at Solas's comment. Elves with beards were not usually a common sight, in fact, she'd only ever seen one elf with a beard and they had been very very old. The elf had been a keeper for a clan at a meeting of the Dalish, and she couldn't remember his name or his face. She could only remember his vallaslin was for Andruil and his beard was a faded tawny brown.
During her years looking for suitable companions among the Dalish, the men seemed scruffy at best.
She looked at Blackwall again then boldly asked, "Your beard, do your lovers like it? It looks…nice"
He coughed, "Ah, well…" and sort of nodded, quickly turning away.
She grinned wide, "So… Would that be a 'yes'? Now I'm curious."
Varric chuckled, "Yes, please do tell all the details, Blackwall."
Blackwall did not share additional details on his romantic endeavors, to her disappointment. She pouted at him and pretended to sulk.
The older warrior had definitely turned a red color. She grinned and decided that was enough for the poor man. She was still curious though.
Solas scuffed his foot into the dirt, sending a small rock flying across the grass. She glanced at him, but he moved to check a chest near a fallen stone wall, his back turning to her.
A few days later, Lavellan noticed Cullen pacing the length of the training yard. His shoulders were back and stiff, but he was stomping around as if he were stalking prey. She just watched him for a moment. "You need a break, commander." She waved him over to join her side.
He let out a sigh, "I know what our soldiers need and I-"
"You need to take a break. Look at you, you're wound up tighter than a ball of yarn." She hooked her arm in his and pulled him alongside her and toward the tavern. He relented.
"Let's get you out of that armor while we're at it."
"W-what?", Cullen sputtered awkwardly. He gawked at her and nearly tripped over his own feet. Her fingers curled further into his clothes, wondering if perhaps he would fall. Cullen stepped away from her, searching her face for something. Lavellan swore he forgot to breathe and his cheeks burned.
Oh, he thinks -
The Herald looked up at his wide eyes and laughed loudly at his reaction.
"I didn't mean it like that", she said with a sympathetic smile, waving off most of his nervousness until she followed it up with, "– unless, that's something you'd want?" She said with a teasing smile as she leaned in a little into his personal space. Cullen looked like he'd been faced with a dragon in only his smallclothes. His mouth gaped and his eyebrows shot up so high on his forehead she thought they might join his hairline.
"Ah, I- I'm flattered really…" There was a movement over his shoulder that caught her eyes.
The Herald grinned and further teased the clearly nervous and uncomfortable man, "I'll be gentle"
She thought she saw a scowling figure stalk away a few buildings down, but when she looked over again, they were gone.
Maybe I'm just imagining it.
Cullen looked like he might just run, the tension in his shoulders elevated so high that it was practically an aura of nerves radiating off of him.
"Maker's breath, I – thank you, but I should get some rest. Excuse me."
She smirked as he fled.
Aw, there he goes. He's cute.
She didn't mind admiring him from behind.
Lavellan saw him as an easy target to unnerve with her flirting and teasing. It was unfair to make him so uncomfortable, but he was just too precious to leave alone. It didn't hurt he was very handsome. She thought he was very distinguished with the scars. The stubble added to her curious intrigue.
The following morning, she yawned and made her way out into the cold snow of Haven. The hours were early enough that most of the village slept and it was fairly dark still. She found Varric already up with a cup of coffee, standing and admiring the roaring fire. He looked thoughtful.
Lavellan snuck up behind him almost silently, the snow masking her footsteps. It was probably silly that she'd sneak up on him, but sometimes she just wanted to be playful. It was nice to have friends. It was new.
He must know I'm here. Well, let's see…
"Good morning Varric!", she chirped suddenly as she leaned over his back.
He nearly jumped out of his skin and had to scramble to keep his hands on his cup.
"Andraste's tit! Watch out who you're sneaking up on!"
His coffee surged up the side of his cup toward his chest, but he managed to recover the cup quickly enough.
She laughed, "What, you can't handle it? What sort of rogue are you?"
Varric pretended to scowl, "The handsome and dashing type, obviously!"
"Obviously…" Lavellan agreed with a smile and a sidelong glance at him that was a bit warm for the frosty weather.
He usually had quick retorts, but clearly her response was not what he expected. He looked at her and his eyebrows rose as she kept grinning at him.
The Herald would not argue with a handsome and dashing rogue like Varric about how handsome or dashing he was. After giving him a moment to compose himself, the dwarf took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. She pulled a barrel up to the fire before taking a seat on it. Varric watched her with keen eyes.
"You were sneaking", he said finally, his tone almost reserved as if he were feeling out the mood. She wanted to laugh. Was he worried she was interested in him? Was he confused? Was he interested and hadn't considered her as a potential lover? She couldn't say she hadn't had a few thoughts of her own. She wondered what it would be like if she ran her fingers through his chest hair.
Teasing him was very fun. Lavellan tried not to let her smirk curl her lips too much, because she never expected to see him taken by surprise, let alone startled that she had agreed with his self-aggrandizing comments.
She had eyes! Did he forget how he dressed? His exposed chest did a number on her. She didn't have a thing for dwarves, but well – maybe she could have a thing for him.
Lavellan scoffed with mock outrage at the accusation, "I don't know what you're talking about!" She waved him off as if he were a nobody, as if he had greatly insulted her and therefore the entire Inquisition.
Varric watched her body language, and he finally chuckled.
"Ah – So, Herald, what can I do for you?"
She smiled brightly, "I'll take a coffee please."
They made small talk and enjoyed the sunrise together. The coffee was warm and rich and bitter. It definitely woke her up enough to notice again, movement in her peripheral.
Lavellan felt eyes on her, which wasn't unusual, but they practically burned into her. A few times she stretched and used the movement to swivel her head around and quickly scan the area.
No one stood out. She tried not to let the feeling nag at her.
Who was so interested in her lately? She knew more than one of the 'new recruits' seemed utterly enamored with her. Cullen had asked her to stop coming by the training yard because two had nearly skewered one another with real swords on her last visit.
It was really odd to her, amusing though. No one had paid much attention to her back in Clan Lavellan. She was good looking, but nothing special – that's what she thought anyway. These people acted like they'd never seen an elf before, and with the poor elven servants running around that was definitely not true. Maybe they saw her as an exotic beauty simply because she was a 'wild Dalish'. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. She did not want to be someone's fetish materials.
Ugh.
Later that day, Dorian sighed and brushed the hair from his face. His cheeks looked wind whipped and a bit raw from the cold in the Frostbacks beating down on him. Lavellan frowned and approached him, "I have lotion, if you'd like some." She opened one of her pouches and pulled out a little jar. Dorian arched a brow, "Well, I never expected you to have beauty products on hand…"
She laughed, "Well when you're this beautiful, why would you need anything?"
Dorian smirked and put his hand on his hip.
"Well, I'm not going to pass up a chance to have your hands on me."
"Wait, what?", she gaped and looked at him with big eyes. He looked like he might just laugh, his moustache wiggled as his smile threatened to escape.
"You may apply your heathen lotion directly to my skin, O' great Herald of Andraste." He said with a smirk.
She laughed, "Oh, you want me to rub it on you?"
"Oh yes", he teased her. His shoulders shook a tiny bit as he held back laughter.
"I suppose I could do that… because I'm so generous. But try not to fall in love with me, I have magic hands."
"I'll be the judge of that!"
A not-so-quiet disgruntled growl made Lavellan turn her head briefly. Solas seemed to be checking something on his staff, very intently, with his back to them. Dorian's eyes flicked to the bald elf as well.
"Darling, let's make sure I remember this forever", he purred.
"Oh, you won't forget it." She teased back and snickered.
That afternoon, the Herald walked the long way around Haven to watch her favorite Seeker beat up training dummies. Cassandra swung her sword into the stuffed opponents, her movements quick with focus and precision. The woman was a fighter but she seemed kind, hidden behind a frosty all-business exterior. The seeker was powerfully built and made Lavellan wonder how firm she might feel pressed against her.
"Beautiful."
Cassandra swung and missed, stumbling in the dirt, spinning wide-eyed to face Lavellan.
"What?", she said breathlessly with a burning red face. She gripped her sword harder than before and looked like she might just fall over.
Oh she's so cute…!
Lavellan smiled and held her hands up, "Your form, it's beautiful."
"Oh…" Cassandra's eyes scanned her for any sense of mockery before nodding and letting her eyes dart back to the ground.
"I try my best", Cassandra said with a little trepidation in her tone. Her voice was quiet in the noisy training area.
The Herald smiled, "You are also beautiful. I'm surprised you don't have men and women flocking to you!"
Cassandra looked like she'd been caught in a beartrap. "I – I do not have time for such things!"
"Ah, yes. You're very busy, Seeker." The elf nodded but her smile curled her lips, "Couldn't you try to make time for a special someone?" She walked closer to Cassandra. The woman was nearly vibrating in place, her entire posture showing her utter alarm.
Cassandra brandished her sword and looked around, wild eyed, in search of an escape route. She spotted Cullen.
"Ah! If you'll excuse me!", she fled to talk to him, as if she had forgotten something important.
Lavellan tried not to laugh.
That evening, Lavellan went to the tavern to relax. It was lively with music, singing, drinks, conversation, and the Chargers were there with the Iron Bull. He was chatting up one of the serving girls, smiling as charmingly as he could. Lavellan grinned a bit as the woman left.
"Any luck Bull?", she asked with a smirk. Lavellan waved to the bartender to add a drink to her tab. The bartender grabbed a fresh mug in acknowledgement.
The Iron Bull shrugged, "Eh, you win some, you lose some. How's it going?"
She nodded, "I'm doing well. It's been a long day though." Bull nodded, his horns dipping as he shifted his weight; His chair creaked in protest. Lavellan waved at Krem with a smile. That man was handsome too. It was nice to know so many good-looking people. Bull glanced at Krem and then back to Lavellan before he lowered his voice.
"Well, you know what I do to relax?", he grinned a little and leaned forward.
"Do I want to know?" She quirked a brow and accepted the mug of ale handed to her by a passing barmaid. The woman artfully navigated through the growing crowd. It was almost prime-drinking-time.
Eh, fuck it. Let's hear it.
"Actually, go ahead. Tell me everything", Lavellan said boldly as she took a swig of her drink. The foam coated her upper lip, giving her a little bubbly moustache.
Bull grinned, "Well firstly, I've got a type."
"A type?"
"Yeah. Red heads. Oof."
Lavellan licked the froth from her lips and put her mug down, looking at him with a strange expression before she tugged at her hair in front of her forehead. It was a reddish brown, like a brick red, but definitely more on the side of red than brown.
"You mean, like this?"
Bull laughed, leaning back, and slapping his thighs.
"Well, shit… You got me there! Yeah, Boss."
She flushed and smiled a little.
"I don't know how I feel about horns in the bedroom." She said with a sort of teenage nervousness creeping into her voice.
How would that even work?
"One word. Handlebars."
She had to cover her mouth to hide the loud "Oh!" escaping.
Bull seemed to revel in her flushed discomfort.
The tavern door slammed shut and a cold gust of wind made Lavellan shiver. She drew her jacket up against her neck to keep the air off her skin.
"I could keep you warm if you don't mind mixing business and pleasure", Bull teased.
Lavellan smiled and tucked hair behind her ear, "Thanks for the offer Bull, but I think I'm just going to enjoy my drink and good company before I call it a night."
"Ah, striking out twice in one night. Brutal, boss." Bull said, feigning heartbreak.
"I'm sure you'll recover. The night is young. There's plenty of beds." Lavellan said with a grin as she went back to her drink.
After some very raunchy stories and an empty mug or two of ale, Lavellan pushed herself back from the table and stood. "Well, it's been a pleasure. I'll see you tomorrow, Bull.", she said before nodding to Krem and the others.
"See ya Boss."
Lavellan dropped a few coins on the bar top before heading out into the cold. When the door closed behind her, the noise cut out and Haven was wonderfully quiet. Sometimes, Lavellan just wanted to listen to nothing but the wind. It probably had to do with growing up surrounded by a clan of people, rarely having time to herself. She smiled at the silence. A gust of freezing winds ruffled her hair and left a few snowflakes in its wake. Lavellan shivered a little and tucked her hands under her arms to warm them. She saw a familiar bald elf sitting on a nearby wall, legs dangling over the edge. His eyes were shut, but he didn't look relaxed. She smiled a little at the sight of him. He really was a handsome man, very statuesque. She could imagine the great elvhen of the past might have looked like him, as if chiseled out of stone. He seemed so cold though.
"Lovely, isn't it?", she asked him.
Solas looked up, his expression cold. "Did you not have enough fun tonight, Herald?" He snapped with a bitterness that was unexpected.
Lavellan was taken aback. She furrowed her brow, confusion crossing her features.
"What?"
He shook his head and pushed himself off the wall to stand on a higher ledge, looking down at her. His eyes seemed to blaze a bright blue, but perhaps it was just the full moon reflecting in them. She looked up at him, feeling suddenly very small. It was like she was looking up at someone who was larger than life. She searched his face for answers, for explanations.
Is he angry with me? What did I do now?
"I am sorry to put a damper on your spirits. You are so very, very… friendly. I am not used to it."
He stood stiffly and put his hands behind his back.
Wait. He hasn't been- Is he jealous?
Lavellan felt like the words had been stolen from her mouth.
"I – I thought you didn't like me." She admitted.
At this, his eyebrows to knit together, then one arched as if he would ask a question. He seemed to search for words before he pursed his lips together.
"I will admit that…. I am fond of you."
His confession was like he'd admitted to something taboo, as if she were something dirty. He said it quietly enough, as if he expected some rebuke or immediate rejection.
Her eyebrows shot up and she stood more alert.
Wait, what? Bullshit! Either he's the world's greatest liar or-
"Are you?", squeaked out of her mouth. He seemed unreal. Sure, she felt for him quite strongly, but she didn't think he had the slightest interest in her. This felt like it was completely out of character for him. Didn't he think she was an idiot? Didn't he scold and admonish her for the stupid risks she took? He looked at her with so much emotion in his eyes, and yet his expressions were always unreadable.
He nodded once, but his eyes still looked harsh. She felt like she was staring down a giant beast made of ice. It felt like he liked her, but he didn't want to like her. She wondered if he disliked feeling something for her because she was Dalish. It made her mind spin.
You're so confusing! Do you like me or not?
She looked at him and took a moment to find the right words. She decided.
Fuck it. If he thinks I'm an idiot, so be it.
She tossed her head back and shoved her hands onto her hips and looked up at him with confidence she pretended to have. She could lie, she could pretend. She did it everyday, pretending she knew what the fuck she was doing, how to save the world, how to be a good friend, a good leader. She wouldn't mind adding 'lover' to the list.
"So, would you prefer I not flirt with them? Perhaps just with one elf I know?", she asked with some sass in her attitude. Let him clarify so she wouldn't assume to understand his intentions, or his interests, or whatever this was. She figured he couldn't mistake her now. This had to be mutual, right?
His eyes shut and he looked pained for a hairsbreadth; Solas sighed,"Please not Sera."
She laughed suddenly, loud enough his head jolted up and he stared at her with half a scowl already pulling at his features. She could barely control her laughter, her breathing hitching in her throat and she gasped in breaths, trying to stop herself.
His miserable puppy dog expression and the alcohol in her system made her laughter bubble back up again. He started to glower and she could feel his anger starting to simmer. She choked back a laugh and wiped the tears in her eyes.
"I meant one with less hair", she said to him matter-of-factly. Her eyes stared at his.
"Oh."
Solas froze then, standing still enough that he really was a statue made of stone. She looked at him expectantly. He seemed to warm from that ice cold body language and soften. She witnessed a transformation. Hid cheeks turned a slight pink. The smile that settled on his lips was soft, warm… kind.
It was the kind of smile that made her feel something deep down, pulling at her and drawing her closer.
The liquor emboldened her, "I think you're brilliant" she said quickly.
His demeanor seemed to change quickly, from pleasant surprise to confident swagger, a tiny smirk pulling at his lips.
Oh, is that what you need?
She could have laughed again. It seemed so obvious now. He needed her to stroke his ego. Fine. She would do just that. Let him be a proud bastard. If he wanted her to beg, maybe she'd be willing to do that too, if the mood hit her.
Lavellan smiled at him. "You could talk to me all night and day about the Fade and I would never tire of it", she said with a passion.
His honeyed voice was sweet, just not usually for her. He was so standoffish that he set her on edge. Alarms practically rang in her mind when he was near. Maybe they hadn't been alarms of danger, but alarms to the heat, to the possibility that they could be something more than…
She grinned at him. He smiled back at her and it was radiant. The cold evening didn't feel quite so cold anymore.
"I think you've had too much to drink", Solas said with a smirk.
"I think you haven't had enough", she said playfully.
She climbed up the wall and stood on her tip toes so she could be eye to eye with him. She stood close enough she could feel his breath on her skin.
Solas's whole demeanor shifted dramatically from what it had been just moments earlier. He had been cold and dismissive and bitter. Now he was smiling, his shoulders dropped, his stance shifted, and he looked welcoming and warm. He looked like he could be home, he could be something so dear to her. She was afraid to imagine something between them, but she wanted to.
Lavellan stared up into his eyes. They looked smokey now, no longer like staring into ice water. Her eyes darted to his lips and his looked to hers. They were so close.
She waited expectantly. The last thing she wanted to do was to scare him away. His eyelashes were captivating her, his eyes, his proximity. He smelled like evergreens and mint.
Kiss me you idiot.
Solas turned away from her, leading to the little house he roomed at. He moved with a confidence and comfort she wouldn't have attributed to him, "Come. Let me tell you some stories."
It was a start.