Varric grunted his displeasure as he clambered awkwardly down the stone steps that dotted the path from Skyhold.
He hated this path.
Easily a hundred times now he had traversed this blighted path to the fortress since their arrival from Haven, and the experience had never even remotely improved. It was always a pain in the ass, always a slog; not the least bit enjoyable. He imagined it was impossible for anyone to legitimately enjoy it. Though, on his right, Solas seemed contented enough with travelling. He was quiet, taking in the sights, and his features lacked their usual frown. Smoothed into a pleasantly contented expression as he gazed at the mountains in the distance. The apostate hardly counted, though. He was accustomed to wandering around on his own through mountains and forests for years at a time. For all Varric knew, he might even actually like taking long walks up slippery, broken stairs. Seemed like it might actually be his kind of thing.
But not Varric.
For one, the width and depth of the stairs was far better suited to the longer strides of Humans than to dwarves. Or even to elves, who were the ones that actually built the place, apparently. It was clear to him that the path was added to the location long after the fortress' initial construction – likely by human hands, given the terrible state of it. No dwarf would ever craft stairs this shitty.
Even blinded.
While sleeping.
In fact, the condition of the path was so poor that it required mounts to be led into the valley below rather than ridden. Which meant that the hardship of stumbling down the endless, crumbling, slippery, remains of the stairs was unavoidable.
There were nearly a thousand of these blighted steps and more than half were broken in one way or another. Some sections were missing entirely! Mix all of that with a near-permanent cover of ice and snow and you had a recipe for disaster that usually ended in – well, a sore end.
Ahead of him, Sera snickered when he slipped over a particularly awkward corner and made a rather undignified noise of surprise. He grumbled in response. "I hate these stairs."
"You hate everythin'," informed Sera.
"True," he admitted, "but not as much as I hate these stairs. Little dwarf legs and all." He wiggled two fingers back and forth.
She scoffed, calling over her shoulder at him. "Could always tie you to the pack horse!" She gestured with her chin toward the animal that Cole was leading at the front of the party.
The spirit blinked widened eyes. "I don't think he would like that," he said pointedly.
It was not entirely clear if he was referring to the horse, or to Varric.
As if on cue, the animal nickered and shook its head, prompting Cole to loosen the reigns wrapped around his wrist, and stroke its long neck affectionately. It was rare that Cole chose to ride on any of their journeys, regardless of how long it took or how difficult the terrain. Instead, he usually walked alongside the party, or simply disappeared to wherever it was he went. Reappearing only once they had made camp, or encountered trouble. In spite of his apparent aversion to riding, he was always eager to help care for the animals, and his phenomenal talent at keeping them calm and happy made him an asset.
The small moment of quiet was broken when Cole suddenly perked up, struck by an idea. "You could always carry him!" he suggested eagerly.
Sera snorted. "Ha! That ain't happening."
"Oh, but I was so looking forward to it," Varric replied with feigned disappointment.
Solas cut in from beside him. "Perhaps a walking stick would help, Master Tethras?" At Varric's curious look, he lifted the staff he was carrying and made a show of using it to balance his next step.
Varric hummed, tapping his chin. "You might be on to something, Chuckles. Maybe I can ask Harritt to find me a nice – though maybe non-magical – staff that I can carry around specifically for getting up and down these blighted stairs." The jibe won the barest hint of a smile from the apostate. High praise, coming from him.
"Needs to have a pretty rune," Sera teased. "And an inscription."
From the front of the line, Ellana piped up, "How about, 'I hate everything'?"
A chorus of laughter spread through the party. To Varric's amazement, the joke even earned a decidedly amused sound from Solas. Not quite a full laugh, but nearly. Close enough, anyway. The elf wasn't exactly easy to amuse, especially recently, making the response a particularly pleasant surprise.
Varric decided to hang back a step or two to observe this new development more closely in case it offered anything else to pique his interest. The instinct rewarded him a mere moment later when he spied the Inquisitor toss a glance over her shoulder that connected with Solas. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds before he smiled at her.
Actually smiled at her.
And not even one of those tiny little lip twitches he was usually only barely capable of producing. This was the kind of sincere, happy smile that nearly shows teeth. Makes your eyes crinkle at the corners. She returned it, albeit a little shyly, before returning her attention to the path ahead. Even more surprising: Solas' smile continued to hold even after the Inquisitor turned away. A look that slowly faded to a more subtle expression as his gaze drifted downward a little. He seemed to watch her for a curious amount of time. Then, there was the smallest, subtle quirk of his brow – either amused or appreciative, Varric couldn't quite guess – it was damned near impossible to tell with him.
Wait, a sudden realization hit him, is he staring at her ass?
He followed the elf's gaze with no small amount of incredulity. Ahead of them by about 50 paces, Ellana was making her way down a section of steps that were in particularly bad shape. The remains scattered about in large, jagged pieces. This required someone with a smaller stride – like a female elf, for example – to move from one chunk to the next either by large jumps or small, nimble steps. Choosing the latter, she had turned herself to the side for better balance. A pose that then caused her movements to resemble more of a sashay, especially by comparison to the awkward stumbling about that Sera was managing just behind her. The back and forth sway of her body accentuated the flare of her hips, rocking them in just such a way. It could almost be a bit suggestive. That is, if one were so inclined to view it that way.
Discreetly, he turned his attention back to Solas and – oh yeah – he was very definitely staring at her ass. Still with that little tick of his brow, too.
Well, I'll be a nug's uncle, thought Varric, didn't know you had it in you, Chuckles!
He watched Solas out of the corner of his eye for a while longer, finding himself rather amused by the elf's uncharacteristic leering. A moment later, perhaps sensing the weight of his stare, the Inquisitor threw another glance over her shoulder. In an instant, Solas had schooled his expression back to that neutral mask that Varric was far more accustomed to seeing from him, and his gaze lowered to the path at his feet. Good timing too, as he had just begun to make his way over the stretch of perilously broken steps he had watched Ellana move across.
Well, parts of her anyway.
Interesting development, thought Varric. At least they weren't screaming at each other anymore. That was a massive improvement. In fact, this was the first time in at least a month that they seemed to be capable of sharing space without making things awkward for everyone else. He reflected on the argument the elves had the evening before, and all those biting things they'd said to one another before finally moving somewhere less public. At least, he was reasonably certain the words were biting. Once they slipped into Elvish he thought it was a pretty safe bet they weren't exchanging pleasantries.
Regardless, they must have managed to successfully work through the worst of it at some point that evening and come to an understanding. Not only had Solas given up on his rather bizarre stance against joining the party, but his disposition was surprisingly pleasant. He was in a better mood than the dwarf had seen in over a month. Or ever, come to think of it. Moreover, he hadn't seen him look at the Inquisitor like that since—
The toe of Varric's boot slipped under the broken corner of a step and stuck hard. He slipped, and then stumbled. A fall was inevitable, and the sudden lurch of his body heaving forward tore a strangled cry from his throat. He tried to throw both his hands up to catch himself, but the result was more of a comical flail than anything else. Wincing, he sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, and prepared for impact. The tumble down a hundred broken, ice-slicked steps was probably not going to be the easiest ride.
Fortunately, he did not get the chance to find out.
In a bright flash of indigo, Solas fade-stepped to a point just below Varric and firmly held his staff out sideways. A heartbeat later, Varric found himself doubled over it with a loud 'oof!' – winded, but uninjured. He grasped it with both hands, catching Solas' concerned eye. The sudden commotion drew everyone's attention, and by the time he managed to right himself, all eyes were on him.
"Are you alright?" inquired Ellana from the front of the line.
Varric made a show of dusting himself off as he dislodged the toe of his boot from beneath the cracked step. "I'm good," he answered with a wave. "It's just my pride that's injured." He nodded at Solas, who was tucking his staff onto his back. "Thanks Chuckles, you saved my ass a bruising."
The elf nodded in return. "It was of no consequence."
"Should be paying more attention to the road," Varric quipped. He made no immediate move to resume their pace, instead busying himself with adjusting his jacket to stall a few extra seconds. Thankfully, Solas seemed to be following his lead, perhaps out of concern, and waited patiently for him to finish. They continued on their way only once Varric was certain he had managed to put enough space between them and Sera to be safely out of earshot. At which point, he added a sly, "Clearly I'm not as practiced as you are at dividing my focus."
Solas raised a brow. "I'm sorry?"
He smirked. "Nevermind." After a pause, he nudged Solas' elbow with his own, catching his attention. "So...?" he prompted.
Poised as always, Solas simply tilted his head. "Yes?"
"It seems... better?" tested Varric. He glanced ahead of them to ensure no one else was listening in. They weren't. Solas was looking at him expectantly, offering nothing and clearly waiting on him to elaborate. "You and the Inquisitor," he clarified. When he received no response beyond a series of blinks, he playfully nudged at Solas' side, adding, "I mean, you two were going at it pretty hard last night!"
Solas was not exactly the most forthcoming person when it came to, well, virtually anything. Getting him to talk about himself or his personal affairs was about as likely as taking afternoon tea with Corypheus. No one even knew where he was from; let alone what kind of upbringing had granted him the privilege of cultivating the mannerisms of a nobleman. He carried himself like a Tevinter magister, but knew well enough when to play the 'humble elf' card. That said, Varric had never seen him truly cowed by anyone, nor did he expect to. He was a force to be reckoned with whether his opponent be demon or Chantry sister.
He often imagined that Solas would have a lot in common with the ancient elves, who were remembered as a proud and regal people. He also imagined that Solas would probably be flattered by that comparison, should he ever tell him.
Due to his experiences in the Fade and the breadth of knowledge that his personal studies had awarded him, Solas knew more about his ancestors than even the most esteemed university scholars did. However, he was loathe to share this knowledge with anyone but other elves. The smug superiority got a bit old – but he kept it reigned in well enough. Barring the occasions Varric had seen him and the Inquisitor go head to head over the Dalish, that is. It was one of the only times he had ever seen the man get well and truly rankled.
Getting an emotional response – any emotional response – out of Solas that he hadn't carefully and deliberately crafted was a challenge that many of their companions took upon themselves whenever traveling with him. Irritation was one that Varric had managed to provoke from time to time, which was always very rewarding. He had even seen the elf join in on some good-natured ribbing on more than one occasion. That was even better! Though, outside of those few times, he'd never known the man to be particularly… expressive. That was a big part of why that argument with the Inquisitor the night before had been so unsettling; he honestly had not thought that Solas was capable of that kind of embittered anger.
In probing him about the result of said argument, Varric honestly didn't expect much beyond a vague allusion to, well, some conclusion. Maybe, at the most, he might get an admission that things had improved between the two of them. That they had reached an amicable agreement, perhaps.
The look of stark, absolute, horror that met him was the last thing he ever thought to see in response.
Solas looked as though he had been physically struck by the words; his expression a strange mix of deeply offended and completely bewildered. It was actually rather funny. Or, it would be if Varric had the faintest idea what had prompted such a reaction. Surely, Solas wasn't operating under the illusion that the two of them hadn't been overheard during all that yelling? Maybe the outburst had unsettled him just as deeply, and Varric had committed some sort of terrible faux pas by mentioning it?
After a moment of frantic blustering, Solas all but yelled, "I beg your pardon!?"
Varric threw both his hands up, palms out. "Whoa, Solas!" he exclaimed with a nervous chuckle. "I'm just saying! I could easily hear you two from the hallway! I mean, I think everyone out there could."
The elf was staring at him, struck dumb in apparent shock. He blinked rapidly. "I—" he started, then stopped, mouth silently working for a response. Something more than the strangled squeak he'd managed.
To Varric's great amusement, Solas seemed genuinely, completely, flustered. And the longer he struggled for words, the more red crept into his cheeks and ears. The colour especially noticeable considering how terribly pale he had gone a moment ago.
Varric narrowed his eyes. Is he... blushing?
That cinched it: this was definitely hilarious, regardless of whatever had prompted it.
Finally, Solas seemed to regain just enough of his composure to form a proper response. "I don't see how that is any of your business, Varric!"
Now it was Varric's turn to be bewildered. "Really?" he snorted. "I mean, that may be true in spirit but I'm pretty sure it was everyone's business for a while there! You two were loud enough for half of Skyhold to bear witness."
The small, subtle expressions that played out over the elf's face then were curious indeed. All at once, he seemed to cycle through flashes of shock, anger, confusion before finally settling on a look of palpable relief. A second later, it finally seemed to occur to him that they had both stopped walking amidst their exchange. He resumed at a rather brisk pace that Varric struggled to keep up with. His gaze fixed on the ground before him, carefully avoiding Varric's curious eye.
"The argument," he breathed, almost to himself. Then, to Varric, "Of course. My apologies." The blush was retreating from his cheeks now. He had managed to recompose himself rather quickly, schooling his expression back into that familiar, reserved mask.
"Yes, 'the argument'!" echoed Varric in a mocking tone. He laughed, long and loud, amused by the utter absurdity of the conversation thus far. "What else would I be talking about?" Solas did not answer, but his downturned gaze and furrowed brow gave the dwarf pause. "Wait..." his eyes narrowed. "What did you think I was talking about?"
Solas' gaze flickered to him briefly but stopped short of actual eye contact. A small crease in his brow was the only clue to what was going on underneath the mask, and while Varric was not as talented at reading Solas as Iron Bull was, it was clear to him that he was uncomfortable. This was especially obvious when he sidestepped Varric's question by answering a different one.
"It was terribly inappropriate to have argued so publicly; please accept my apologies for disturbing you, Master Tethras."
The sudden formality was not doing him any favours. He was overcompensating because he had been unsettled – embarrassed? – by something Varric had said. As far as he could tell, he hadn't been rude or insulting. At least, not intentionally anyway. All he'd said was...
It hit him like a rock.
Oh, shit.
Then, the sheer absurdity of it had him laughing aloud, earning a rather unnerved eye from Solas that flickered between him and their companions ahead. As though he was suddenly rather worried they would take notice of the conversation.
Unresolved sexual tension, indeed!
"Oh no. No, no, no!" Varric's bright, bubbling laughter was making it hard to speak coherently. This was too good, he thought. He took hold of Solas' elbow. The elf stilled, glancing again at their companions before warily meeting Varric's eye. "You're not getting out of this that easily!" He pointed a finger at Solas' chest, grinning wickedly. "You thought I was talking about sex, didn't you?"
Solas frowned deeply, shrugged out of Varric's grip, coughed, and continued walking. It did not escape his notice that the tips of his ears had turned a little red again. "This is terribly inappropriate, Varric."
But Varric persisted. He chased after the apostate, chuckling all the while. This was more than just good, this was amazing – he had him legitimately embarrassed.
"Andraste's tits, you did! Because you did! After you guys disappeared you went and had loud, angry, make-up sex!
The elf shot him a hard glare, but there was the smallest shade of panic in his eyes. "I did not say that."
"You didn't have to!" Varric snickered. "It's written all over your face! And I must say that red is a lovely colour on you, Chuckles." The exasperated noise he received in response was all the confirmation he needed. He quickened his pace until he was once again astride with the elf, whose rapid footsteps had slowed somewhat. Clearly an attempt to put a little more space between them and Sera, who was quietly humming to herself up ahead. He grinned. "So, does this mean you're back together? Or just 'together' I suppose, I'm not really sure what you two were before."
A long silence passed in which Solas seemed to consider his words very carefully. His gaze shifted from the ground, to the Inquisitor, briefly to Varric, before finding the ground again. Varric imagined he was trying to decide whether or not he could continue the charade or admit defeat.
It appeared he chose the latter.
"I am—" A defeated sigh and then, "I believe so." He thought another moment. "Yes."
Varric clapped him hard on the back, the force of it staggering him a bit. "Well, if that isn't the best news I've heard in a while! I'm happy for you both."
Solas leveled him with a glare, but there was no real heat to it this time. "I was unaware you held my personal affairs in such high esteem."
"Maybe not yours," Varric conceded playfully. "But definitely hers. Plus, the sexual tension you two have built up over the last year is enough to start pulling stragglers into your orbit." To his surprise, Solas gave him a look that he could almost call amused. It sent a rush of boldness through him. With a wicked grin, he teased, "You were pretty worried there for a moment that you'd been overheard. That good, huh?"
The amusement was gone.
"Varric," Solas warned.
"I mean a year of flirting is practically foreplay, right? I've ah, 'made up' after a bad argument a few times myself, but that fight you guys had was a doozy. Should I be impressed you can both still walk?"
"Fenedhis, Varric!"
"Alright, I'll stop! I'll stop!" he conceded, laughing.
After a moment's pause, Solas shifted awkwardly, and gave him a pained look. "I would appreciate your discretion on this matter."
His grin widened. "Which matter? That you're together or that you didn't do much sleeping last night?" Receiving only another glare in reply, "Both, then?" Varric chortled. He waved a hand. "Don't worry, Chuckles. No one will hear it from me. However, you may have already shot yourself in the foot with that one. Did you stay in her quarters all night or did you go back to yours after...?" he let the implication hang in the air.
Solas was quiet a moment, and then frowned. "Ah."
The dwarf lifted a brow. "The first one then?" Laughing, he teased, "Illicit affairs aren't really your forte, are they? You're supposed to sneak out under cover of darkness so no one suspects you were there."
"I shall endeavor to remember that next time," replied Solas dryly.
"Already planning the next time?"
He gave Varric another look, but the harsh edge was softened somewhat by a slight twitch of his lips.
It was mid-afternoon before the party reached the bottom of the mountain pass. There, the terrain was considerably smoother and the weather much warmer. It had been at least an hour since they had last seen any snow, and the breeze that blew through the area could almost be considered mild instead of biting. Josephine had gathered some reports on the weather from various Inquisition scouts and camps in the Hinterlands before they set off and had urged them to pack lightly. Late spring in Redcliffe was often warmer than one would expect for a waterfront town. The heat of the changing season was blessedly welcome; no one enjoyed camping in the winter.
They soon came to a shallow riverbed in the center of a valley. More stream than river at this time of year. Once summer hit the Frostbacks in full force, the meltwaters would transform it into a rushing torrent. One dangerous enough to route around, rather than traverse through. For now, though, the brook was only a few feet deep in the center, and the meandering flow made it both easy to cross, and a convenient pit stop.
"Alright!" called Varric as they arrived. "We can mount up here, and refill our waters."
Leaving his shoes on the grass, he carefully traversed the rocks dotting the bottom of the riverbed. Finding a large one to balance on, he kneeled to dip his empty skin into the glacial stream. Moving with considerably more grace with their bared feet, Solas and the Inquisitor approached, crouching together on one of the rocks next to him. Ellana hissed a breath through clenched teeth as she plunged her waterskin into the icy depths, reeling against the shock of cold. Once it had filled, she jerked her hand back out in a quick movement, and then shook it aggressively. Out of the corner of his eye, Varric saw Solas discretely brush two fingers across her wrist. A brief surge of magic – presumably heat – bloomed beneath his fingertips and spread along her skin. She smiled.
The sudden smack of something leathery hitting the back of Varric's head drew his attention from the scene. Apparently, Sera expected him to fill her waterskin as well. With a smirk, he did so; capping and tossing it back with a hard throw when he was done. It hit the center of her back with a satisfying thwack.
"Oi!" she yelled, whirling around to face him. Making an exaggerated display of rubbing the spot where it had hit. "Full water hits harder than an empty one, you tit!"
"Wasn't me!" Varric feigned a look of shock and pointed at Solas, who offered nothing in response but an exasperated frown.
Chuckling, Ellana cut in. "If you're both quite finished I think we can move on." She gestured to the horses. Cole had led one out into the water, and the others had followed close behind. Seemingly unfazed by the temperature, the boy stood knee-deep with both his trousers and leather greaves soaked through. Murmuring quietly to one of the horses as it drank. It flicked its tail absently.
They had only the three mounts with them for this journey, rather than their usual four. Late spring meant it was whelping season, and Dennet had requested they take as few as possible so not to disturb those who remained. A task that was much easier to accomplish on a low-risk mission such as this one. The Inquisitor had agreed to three: two for riding and one for supplies, the latter able to carry an additional, single person only if necessary.
Sera had complained loudly, and frequently, about the prospect of sharing a saddle. However, she kept the grumbling to a minimum after Ellana threatened to seat her with Solas for the entire duration of the journey.
Varric prompted, "If you have a partner preference, call it out now!" With a knowing smile, he gave a wink to Solas. For his part, the elf offered no discernable reaction to the tease. Not even the reward of momentary – irritated – eye contact. Instead, busying himself with continuing to fill his and Ellana's waterskins. Varric snorted.
Sera, on the other hand, was eager to jump at the opportunity. "Ooh, me!" she called, waving a hand. "I choose you, Varric." Skipping over to the smaller of the two riding horses, she tied her satchel to the edge of the saddle and adjusted her bow for traveling.
The dwarf grinned as he joined her. "No love for your fellow people?"
Narrowing her eyes, Sera replied, "Droopy ears can bite it, and The Lady Inquisitits doesn't tell good stories."
"Fair enough," chuckled Varric. Sera gave him an unceremonious shove onto the steed, and with a grunt, jumped on behind him. "Maybe I'll tell you the one about the Qunari trader with the nug."
"I actually don't think I've heard that one."
Behind the pair, Solas had finished gathering the waters and set to work ensuring everyone's belongings were well secured to the packhorse before they set off. Cole lashed the mounts together, giving them each a soft stroke along their noses.
"Would you prefer to ride with the Inquisitor, Cole?" Solas asked him. The spirit shook his head distractedly, and then disappeared without another word.
With a raised brow, Ellana teased, "Volunteering me just like that?"
"I did not wish to impose," he replied evenly, but the slight curl at the corner of his lips betrayed him. With a nod, he gestured to the horse, offering a hand to assist Ellana up. She took it readily. Though it was less for needing the help and more for the opportunity of an idle touch, however chaste.
The ploy did not escape his notice, and he was eager to take advantage of the moment. As he arranged himself behind her, his hands found her thighs. In a slow and very deliberate movement, he ran them up to her hips, easing forward, his fingertips just barely peeking under the edge of her leather armor as they slid across her stomach. There, his hands laced together, and with a sharp tug, he pulled her body backward until her backside pressed firmly against his hips.
Struggling to quell the sudden flush of her cheeks, she bit the inside of her lip, and smirked.
Though, not everyone was quite as pleased with the arrangements. Once the horses started moving, Sera slammed up against Varric's back with an audible clink of her silver buttons against his chainmail armour. Scrambling for a more comfortable position, she grumbled her displeasure. "Forgot how close you have to be."
Varric pouted playfully, urging the horse into a trot. "Not into dwarves, Buttercup?"
"Not the ones with beards," she countered.
Thoughtfully, he replied. "Lots of lady dwarves have beards." His tone betraying nothing.
The elf's eyes widened. "You're shitting me, now. That's shit." Turning in her seat, she glanced back at Ellana and Solas, her gaze flickering between them. "He's shitting me, right?"
The apostate raised his brows, replying with a schooled, "Have you met many female dwarves, Sera?"
She balked. Varric nudged her playfully with an elbow. "You get used to it. Rubbing beards and all." Behind him, Sera made a sound somewhere between a retch and a cough, drawing another bright laugh. "You could learn to love it!"
She snorted. "Not bloody likely. Been a while, yeah? But not that long. Not desperate enough for beards." After a pause, she giggled, amused by her own unintentional double-entendre. "Well, not those kinds of beards anyway. Heh, rubbing beards."
"I always thought elves didn't grow any body hair?" probed Varric. His curiosity seemingly genuine in spite of the subject matter.
"Some!" she answered defensively. "Just not tons. Got to have something to set us apart from being a kid other than our tits, yeah? Not like humans get, though." After a moment's pause, she added under her breath, "Or dwarves, apparently."
Behind them, Ellana groaned. "Must we talk about this in a party made up almost entirely of elves?"
They both ignored her.
"Is that why you're bald, Chuckles? Can't grow hair?"
A sigh. "No," he answered simply.
"You mean you look like that on purpose?" Sera commented, sneering a little. She nudged Varric with an elbow. "Ten sovereigns says he's a ginger."
"Blonde," suggested the dwarf slyly. "Suits him better."
Without thinking, Ellana answered, "It's dark brown."
In the immediate hush that followed, she rather belatedly realized this was something she had no good reason to know about him.
With slow, calculated movement, Sera twisted in her seat. Her brow raised wickedly even before she turned around far enough to pin Ellana under a suspicious eye. A wolfish grin split her cheeks. Ellana bit the inside of her lip to curb the blush that threatened to spread into her face, pressing her mouth into a hard line. Trying her best to keep a neutral expression.
"And how would you know that, hey?" Sera drawled, rolling the words off her tongue like honey. Dripping with salacious implications. "Does the rug match the drapes?" Then she blinked, considering. "Or the windows."
To her immense relief – and surprise – Solas came to her rescue.
"I do have eyebrows, Sera," he remarked dryly.
Sera's eyes flicked briefly to his forehead, where Solas lifted a brow by example, and she furrowed her own in return. Pondering. After a moment of quiet deliberation, she slowly turned back. Apparently satisfied with his answer.
Only then did Ellana let out the breath she'd been holding, whispering a quiet, "Thank you."
Once assured that their companions were both facing away, Solas leaned in close enough to brush his lips against the edge of her ear. Almost a kiss. Then, she felt his teeth graze along the point. Almost a bite. It sent a shiver down her spine, raising gooseflesh along her arms. His breath was warm on her skin as he murmured, "Don't go telling all my secrets."
Two can play at that game.
In retaliation, she arced her back, canting her rear end into his groin. His hands were on her hips in an instant, stilling her with a firm grasp, and pushing a space between their bodies. She pursed her lips tightly to hide her triumphant grin.
If Varric had caught anything from the exchange, he did not show it. Continuing his teasing unabated. "So does this mean you can grow a glorious, dark brown, elven beard, Chuckles? That might be fun."
Solas narrowed his eyes. "No," he said again. It appeared to be the most he was willing to put into the conversation.
When it was clear he was not about to elaborate, "Elves can't grow beards," Ellana supplied.
Varric made a disappointed sound. "Pity. I would have enjoyed that."
"Bleh," spit Sera. "Smooth is better." She gave a girlish giggle, the sound trailing off into a light sigh. Then a frustrated groan. "Ugh. I need a tumble."
A huff. "I know what you mean, kid"
"Don't get any bright ideas, yeah?"
"I would never dream of it, Buttercup," teased Varric. "Besides, you're far too tall."
"Tall can be nice. Real nice." She giggled again. "Like those Qunari ladies."
"Ah!" He waved a hand. "Too much horn."
Her nose wrinkled, a cheeky grin curling her lips. She teased, "Not into horny ladies?"
He laughed. "I never said that!"
Ellana rolled her eyes, sighed, and pulled at the reigns of her mount to slow its pace. The hope being that it might put a little more space between Solas, her, and the increasingly lewd conversation ahead of them. Unfortunately, the act only served to draw more attention to them.
"What was that?" asked Sera, her tone light and teasing. Their horse had somehow let up on its pace as well, allowing the two to trot astride again. "Offending your delicate Inquisitit sensibilities? Making you uncomfy?" A brow raised as she turned around once again. "Or excited, maybe? Been too long on your end, too?" Shooting Ellana a cheeky grin, she wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "So what'll it be, then? Horny ladies, or horny men?"
Ellana narrowed her eyes, but her shy smile betrayed her, and the glare was far less intimidating than she had hoped. "I'm not having this conversation."
"Both then?" A second later, Sera frowned, her eyes lifting above Ellana's head. Brows knitting into an almost childish-looking scowl. Presumably, directed at Solas. "No one asked you, Droopy, keep your glare to yourself! You only get hot and bothered for the Fade. Probably only ever banged away up in there. Very stiffly. With a stick up your arse. And a pinky finger in the air. In total silence."
A wholly unexpected and very loud bark of laughter burst from Ellana's chest. Her body doubling over from the force of it. The hilarity went on far longer than was entirely appropriate, but she found she could not stop once it had begun. And while initially a bit shocked by the sudden outburst, Sera eventually joined in.
"She knows what I mean!" she commented, snickering. "You'd make a terrible lover."
The giggles finally subsiding, Ellana allowed herself a cheeky grin. "I don't know…" she drawled. "Maybe under all that poise beats the heart of a terribly passionate one." Her smile turned positively wicked at Sera's disgusted expression. She could feel Solas' eyes on her but did not dare turn around to meet his gaze, knowing she'd give far too much away if she did.
Though, the look Varric gave her then made her worry she already had.
A sudden pinch of pain on her side made her jump, very nearly crying out in alarm. Her hand flew to the site, only to find Solas' fingers there. He shocked me, she realized. She turned her head to look at him, and while she did not meet her gaze, she could very clearly see the amused quirk of his brow. The pull at the corner of his mouth as he held back a smile. A slow, satisfied grin curled her lips as she turned back around.
His voice was barely above a whisper, and delightfully husky when he finally spoke.
"What did I say about my secrets?"
That night, while staring up at the canvas ceiling of her tent, Ellana found her thoughts wandering to the elf sleeping in the one next to her. His watch was not for another few hours, and whenever they had traveled together in the past, he was always rather quick to seize any opportunity to rest. Sleep had always come easily to him.
She strained her ears, hoping to catch the soft sounds of his breath, but quickly abandoned the task once it became clear that Varric's rhythmic snoring had drowned out everything else. Save for the occasional soft flick of Sera fletching by the fireside.
With a heavy sigh, she rolled onto her side and buried her head under her straw pillow, holding it in place with an arm. She had only just managed to adapt to sleeping alone after leaving her clan, and now she found the emptiness of her bedroll had her feeling restless and lonely once again. Though, this time, it was for entirely different reasons.
It had been years since she had felt the touch of a lover, and longer still since a touch had meant more than passing fancy. Solas touched her as though her body was spun of gold. Kissed her like a starving man brought before a feast. Made love to her with a searing passion she never thought to experience, even in her wildest fantasies.
It had awoken a deep well of desire within her that set her body buzzing and her mind wandering. Even just walking with him was becoming… distracting. She found herself starting to hope they would run into trouble just so she wouldn't have to endure the insistent pull of her daydreams. Every time his eyes met hers, all she could think of was the way they had darkened with desire when he watched her cry out his name. Seeing his hand grip his staff as he walked had her chewing on her lip remembering how those fingers had felt when they dug into her hips. The worst came when they set camp that evening and he broke a sweat while putting up the tents with Varric. The musky scent of him made a torturous heat flare in her chest. A heat that quickly settled between her thighs, and remained there still. It was all she could do to stop herself from crawling into his tent on hands and knees and set upon him like a rabid beast. Tear into him, taste him, ride him until she heard that wonderfully lilting voice of his begin to falter and crack when he came undone.
The thought alone was enough to set her blood pumping.
But, she was the Inquisitor, and he a humble apostate, by all appearances. Discretion was of the utmost importance when it came to avoiding scandal. It was difficult enough already to garner loyalty among the humans as a Dalish elf leading a Chantry-affiliated organization. A great deal of her support relied on maintaining the illusion of her religious significance. An image Josephine worked very hard to craft. And was necessary to maintain, whether she liked it or not. Knowledge that The Herald of Andraste and Maker's Chosen had taken a lover could do serious damage to her reputation of ecclesiastic purity. Positively ruinous, if that lover was discovered to be an elven apostate.
The less who knew of their relationship, the better.
And there was no way to join him unnoticed, currently. Sera was on watch now. Then Varric, after that. Additionally, she suspected that Solas was not the type of person who would readily consent to having sex in the middle of a party camp on his turn, sleeping companions or no. A proposition would likely just result in a lecture about safety, and propriety. If she was terribly lucky, she might be able to sneak into his bedroll once they reached the Inquisition camps in the Hinterlands where soldiers already stood guard and the tents were set further apart.
Though, somehow, she doubted it.
Bitterly, she realized it was unlikely she could even attempt to relieve her growing frustration by her own hand due to the presence of so many sets of elven ears to notice her ragged breath and strangled cries. She was not sure whose ears would be worse, in terms of being overheard.
Although…
No, she chided herself, shutting down the fantasy before it took root, don't torment yourself with that.
From outside her tent, she heard Cole's quiet narration. Giving voice to her traitorous thoughts. "Tension. Taut, twisting, terrible. A trap, ready to spring. If only a Wolf would wander awake."
Sera scoffed and then murmured something about 'creepy gits' under her breath, gratefully oblivious.
With a frustrated groan, Ellana rolled onto her stomach and twisted her legs together. Belatedly, she realized that perhaps it would have been better not to bring Solas along.
It was going to be a terribly long week.