A/N: In which Solona is pathetic, Leliana is emotional, and Filou the Cat is a total asshole. At Raven Sinead's request.
Solona coughs, loud and hard, the kind that smarts for some time after. Leliana only knows because she is watching her lover.
"Really, Solona, I am actually glad I cannot hear you."
"Why?"
Leliana raises a brow. "Because you already look pathetic. The sound would make you doubly so."
Solona coughs again. Leliana rolls her eyes. "All right, that's it. Out. Let Sera and the Inquisitor care for your patients this night." She reaches for the mage's arm. Really, Solona has been racked by this cough on and off since coming to Skyhold three weeks before. Only rest will make her well, at this point.
"But I need to-"
Zanneth is behind the mage, smirking. "Let Leliana take care of you, Solona," she says, cutting the mage off. Leliana has given up staying in the shadows of Skyhold, or keeping her name a mystery. With Solona here, that could never happen. The arcane warrior lives her life on her own sleeve, for everyone to see. Loving her necessitates leaving the shadows. At least at home, at Skyhold, where their safe haven is. Outside this place, the mantle of shadow and mystery will always be firmly in place.
That does not mean Leliana is not a mystery here, too, of course. It just means there are many rumors about her. Rumors are fine. She can use them to her advantage.
Solona submits after a coughing fit seizes her for over a minute, allowing Leliana to pull her to her feet. Keeping hold of one hand, Leliana leads Solona away from the infirmary, through the verdant garden – so strange when her body knows it is winter in Ferelden and Orlais – up the steps to the rampart, and into their bedchamber along the parapets above the garden. It is a secluded spot, perfect for Leliana, and close to the infirmary, which is perfect for Solona and her patients.
Depositing Solona on the bed covers, a handkerchief in her hand, Leliana goes to close the door. She smiles to see that Max, Bella, and Filou have all trailed them inside. What a picture that must have been, the five of us processing through the garden. Bella hops up onto the bed with Solona. Max tries, but stops with his forelegs on the bed and his back feet on the floor, looking over his shoulder for Leliana's help.
"Poor boy," Leliana coos, moving to him. "Getting so old." Her eyes snap up to Solona. "Stay there. I will help him." And I will speak with one of the carpenters on the morrow for a set of steps for him.
Taking one massive paw in each hand, Leliana hoists Max up onto the bed, where he immediately wiggles his tail-less rump, circles three times, and settles with his massive head in Solona's lap.
"Like a puppy," Leliana murmurs. The dog is not the only one who is still so happy to have Solona home. The spymaster pushes herself up, climbing upon the bed and leaning over Solona's lap.
Solona's hands catch her shoulders, and she shakes her head. "No," her lips say. "I don't want to get you sick." She inhales, turns her head, and seizes with another fit of coughing.
Leliana smiles. "My dear girl, I have surely been exposed." She crawls closer, displacing Max in her lap for a moment. She can feel the vibration of the dog's harrumph. "You have been coughing since we came here. I will get sick, or I will not. I do not think there is any stopping it by keeping your mouth from mine."
Solona accepts her kiss, but it does not last long. The poor thing cannot breathe, as she woke with her nose stopped up this morning. Leliana pushes away, getting to her feet. Max immediately lays his head back in Solona's lap, followed by Bella.
"Traitor," Leliana tells the younger dog. She just blinks back, unrepentant. Leliana is her master, but Solona was the one to select her from her litter, to train her, and she is Max's master – Bella's sire. She obeys Leliana, but she loves Solona as deeply as a hound is capable, as deeply as she loves Leliana herself. Leliana smiles, admiring the literal dogpile that is her unorthodox family.
She is nearly overcome. Stifling the tears that prick at her eyes, she turns, intent on stoking the coals and restarting the fire. Her thoughts have been doing this of late. Just seeing Solona's face is still enough to send her into tears. It is most unbecoming of a spymaster, and of the Left Hand of the Divine. But she can hardly help it. Her mind swirls with memories all too easily, set off by Solona's scent; by the sight of the mage at play with the dogs, running about the floor of the rookery late at night when no one else is about, upsetting the birds; by the feel of her lover's breath upon the back of her neck.
Solona has been such a rock in her life. Her new life, as Leliana likes to think of it, the life she has led since leaving her hiding place in the Lothering Chantry. Solona helped her be rid of Marjolaine for good. Solona helped her see that she could have friendships with others when they traveled to Amaranthine. Solona was the reason she was here, serving the Maker's purpose. Solona's face had been shown to her in her vision in Lothering, and it was with Solona that Leliana had seen her new vision – of the Inquisition, she now knew – in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Solona is the North that Leliana's internal compass points to, and without Solona there, Leliana's needle had circled and circled, lost.
And then she saw – literally saw – what Solona had been through, what had made her disappear, and Leliana was ashamed. Ashamed, and amazed, and so fiercely proud that Solona held on long enough for help to come.
The very fact that Solona is alive, warm and healthy and here, is still enough to bring Leliana to tears sometimes.
This is one of those times.
The tears spill over as Leliana stacks wood in the hearth. She wipes at her eyes with her sleeves, but continues, stacking kindling beneath the wood. The coals catch almost immediately, and Leliana watches the flames spring to life. She recalls that the flames make a sound when they catch like that. She remembers the word: whoosh. She does not remember the sound, though; only the word for it.
She remembers countless fires. Some were good, some were bad. They used flame and hot irons to torture her in Orlais. Dorothea's fireside was warm and comfortable. Solona once set herself aflame to save Leliana in the Deep Roads. Leliana remembers that in stark detail, even though she had been crushed by a broodmother tentacle at the time.
Warm hands rest on her shoulders, recalling her from her memories, where she had been lost, tears streaming down her cheeks. Warm hands traverse her shoulders, down her arms, before lifting and hovering in the air before her chest. Arms that get stronger by the day are wrapped around her shoulders, holding her even as those hands begin to gesture.
{Why do you weep, dear girl?}
Leliana leans back against her lover, further into that familiar embrace. "I am just… so happy you are in this room with me."
Solona's hands no longer gesture. Instead, they reach across Leliana's chest, pulling her in close. Then the world tilts, and Leliana is in her lover's arms. Her cowl falls from her face, exposing her smiling lips for the kiss Solona presses to them. It is short, closed-mouth. Leliana can feel that the mage wants to cough – her breath catches in her chest and her whole body trembles for a moment as she forces back the paroxysm. She straightens, carries Leliana over to the bed, and settles with the former bard leaning against her.
"You need to cough, don't you?" Leliana says. She feels Solona's chin bob up and down against the top of her head. Her chest still trembles. Sitting up, Leliana turns and smirks. "Stay here. I'll help you relax."
She gets back to her feet, her earlier melancholy forgotten for the moment. She removes her cowl – so much easier now than it had been that first day of Solona's return six weeks before – pulls off her gloves and boots, followed shortly by her hose and shirt, leaving her nearly naked in the rapidly-warming air of their room. She looks behind her, quirking up an eyebrow at Solona, who openly stares as Leliana removes her breastband. Smirking, Leliana runs her hands briefly over her sides, over her hips, and down her thighs.
This is not actually a seduction, however, so she stops there, straightening before digging a nightshirt out of their bags – wardrobes for the rooms have not yet been constructed by the overburdened carpenters and workers who made it out of Haven. Pulling the knee-length, homespun garment over her head, Leliana pulls her too-long hair out and over her shoulders and returns to the bed. Then she leans over Solona, reaching for the hem of her tunic.
"Let's get you out of your clothes," Leliana murmurs, watching Solona's pupils dilate. She giggles. "And then I'll give you a massage."
The mage deflates a bit, but smiles, nodding her assent. She makes quick work of her own clothing, not bothering to pull anything on, as she is always so much warmer than anyone else around her. She would die of the heat in Nevarra or Antiva. Or Rivain, for that matter. This entertains Leliana, as her lover's dark skin is evidence of her grandfather's origins in the tropical climes of Rivain.
Solona settles with a pillow under her stomach, glorious body on display. Leliana's own breath hitches for a moment, taking in the expanse of her long legs and the twin globes of her bare rump. But she schools her reaction, laying her bare palms on her lover's back. In a perfect world, she would have oil available, but they only escaped Haven three weeks before and have not had the chance to set up trade for luxuries like that. So she gets to work with her hands dry, grateful that she can, grateful that Solona survived her second confrontation with Corypheus, grateful that her lover made it through the blizzard and hypothermia and every other force that has tried and failed to separate them permanently.
She works her hands into the muscles of her lover's back, delighted that Solona's ribs are no longer prominent. Her fingers catch in small divots, scars that should not be present, that would not be there if Solona had been able to access her power while held captive. They break Leliana's heart once more. She has known her fair share of scars. She bears none anymore, none except the utter failure of her ears to detect more than her own heartbeat. The most invisible scar, her greatest vulnerability.
She shakes her head clear. This is about Solona, about the hot, healthy body beneath her. Solona coughs, just once, then settles again. Leliana can feel the mage's satisfied groan reverberate through her chest, and she smiles. This cough has lingered since their escape from Haven. The mage works herself too hard to properly recover, not sleeping well and throwing herself into sparring and magic-making without any thought for this lingering sickness. It flared today, stopping her nose and weakening her to the point where Leliana was able to persuade her to stop working.
Leliana's job now is to relax her lover, to allow her to get some rest. Her searching fingers find every knot, every muscle, every itch that needs scratching, working until Solona is a limp puddle upon the bed. Leliana smiles, feeling that Solona's breathing has eased, lengthened and smoothed until the mage is clearly sleeping. Leaving her there, naked and on her stomach, Leliana sits back, taking up some of the work she keeps in their room. She has so many agents checking in, now that her birds have found them. It makes for a lot of work, a lot of planning, a lot of long- and short-term schemes and secrets to keep and disseminate when it suits her cause.
The nature of her work is somewhat undermined by the not-quite grown cat that slinks into her lap.
"Bonjour, Filou," Leliana coos, smiling down at the black and white gentleman. He purrs, kneading her lap through her nightshirt. Leliana almost swears he is smiling up at her, accepting her scratching fingers behind his ears. He is warm and soft, keeping his fur clean in between his many hunting trips. She wonders if there are any other cats, if he will father a litter and soon have the grounds of the castle veritably swimming in pest controlling kittens.
Solona's leg twitches in her sleep, and Filou jumps. She cannot hear it, of course, but Leliana imagines he growls and yowls as he lands on Solona's leg, digging his claws and teeth into the relaxed flesh of her calf.
"Filou, no!" Leliana exclaims, reaching for him. Solona is kicking her leg and swatting at the cat even as he holds on for dear life with his front legs, kicking her in return with his back paws. Ruffing his neck, the spymaster pulls him off and releases him on the floor. He retreats to their bags, hiding and hissing, eyes reflecting the firelight from the shadows in an altogether sinister way.
Leliana shakes her head. Solona is already healing herself, her eyes glowing brightly for a moment. As her eyes lose the glow, the mage smirks. "It almost seems silly to do that just for some cat scratches, but cat scratch fever sounds entirely unpleasant."
Leliana smiled. "I am sorry he hates you so."
"It's all ri- no!"
Leliana turns, watching as Solona grabs a now-pissing Filou by the ruff – he has soaked the sides of her rucksack, which is thankfully water-proofed – walks him to the door, and tosses him none-too-gently through it. She then returns, her eyes glowing again as she moves her hands over the rucksack. The yellow liquid is gathered in a ball in the air before Solona, and then the mage marches it over to the chamber pot. She returns, looking thoroughly put out, her eyes their normal grey.
Leliana is sheepish. "I truly am sorry. I cannot understand why he hates you so."
Solona sighs. "I have accepted it." She reaches out, tugging at Leliana's shirt, her expression pleading. "I can think of other ways to relax, however."
Leliana rolls her eyes, but removes her shirt, shooing the dogs as she crawls into her lover's arms. "Yes, my love. Lie back. I will work to relax you again."
Pressing a kiss to Solona's throat, Leliana gets to work, this time uninterrupted by a cat with completely misguided devotion.