Askbox fic for the anon who asked for 2. "A Gift" and Solavellan. There's a link to my tumblr on my profile if anyone wants to send me a prompt in my ask! I'm having a killer writer's block right now and would gladly welcome any prompts!

Also this takes place early on in the game and is pre-relationship!Solavellan. Happy Valentine's Day!

"It was an honest mistake," Lavellan defended, crossing her arms against her chest.

"Falling through a scaffolding into a rogue templar compound is an honest mistake?" Cassandra rebuffed, raising an inquisitive brow.

"I hate to say it but I'm with the Seeker on this one. Isn't stealth and subtlety supposed to be your thing, Misty?" Varric pitched in, using the familiar nickname he had given Lavellan since she first disappeared into the shadows during battle.

"It is!" She yelled back, subtlety be damned. Solas was taking up the rear of their small rag-tag group and silently observing the interaction, namely that of one Taryn Lavellan, or the Herald of Andraste, as many have taken to calling her recently. He couldn't help but find the woman a complete contradiction in and of herself. She was a rogue, silent and deadly, and yet as they had witnessed just moments earlier could do something as foolish as fall into the center of a rogue templar base. She was a Dalish elf and yet was currently known all across Thedas as the Herald of Andraste. Yes, the elf was quite the contradiction indeed. And Solas couldn't help but wonder what that meant for them all.

"Look a clearing!" Lavellan called, abruptly changing the subject. "Shall we set up camp here for the night?" Before anyone could answer, she had already set her pack down onto the grass, unraveling her tarp and setting the spokes into the ground for her tent. Varric and Cassandra shared an equally amused and exasperated look before they, too, set their own packs down.

Lavellan was the first one finished which was to be expected. Solas figured what with the Dalish and their nomadic lifestyle, the elf was quite used to setting up temporary shelters, even moreso since she was a hunter, he supposed. What a simple life she must have led prior to this mess. He pitied her, really. That such a simple woman was given such a heavy burden. That she bore all of their fates and all thanks to his mistakes, no less.

He wondered if she could really do it – fix his mess – and he felt a creep of doubt at the thought. Lavellan was a naïve girl, no doubt a result from living amongst the Dalish and away from society for most of her life. She was also absent-minded and easily distracted, without a care in the world and seemingly unobservant or unaware to the goings-on around her. It was troubling, really, that such a person held the fate of all of Thedas.

From across camp, the Herald's eyes met his own and a small smile came upon her face. Solas hadn't realized he had been staring at her as intently as he was and he shifted his eyes away uncomfortably, a feeling of guilt and embarrassment pooling in his gut. He realized that he was thinking poorly of the woman, and she did not deserve criticism, least of all from him.

He felt another pang of guilt, although for another reason entirely and Solas busied himself with setting up his tent in order to distract himself from the dark turn his thoughts had quickly taken. By the time he was finished, the sun had near set and the three other companions were huddled near the fire that Lavellan had lit herself. The mage had offered to cast a small spell to light it instead to make the job easier but the rogue had waved off his offer saying "Don't worry about it, I've got plenty of experience with starting fires," with a manic look in her eyes that only promised chaos. He chuckled slightly as he thought about that little exchange and realized that he was staring at Lavellan. Again.

As if sensing his gaze, Lavellan's eyes met his once more and she stood up from her crouch near the fire as she made her way over to his tent.

"Solas," she greeted warmly, a bright smile on her face. "Cassandra is brewing us all some tea by the fire. Would you want some?" She asked, tilting her head curiously.

The mage attempted to keep his face as neutral as possible as he answered, not wanting to refuse the Herald who was clearly trying to be kind to him. "I would be most grateful," he replied politely and for some reason, that caused Lavellan to laugh. Solas frowned, unsure what he said wrong.

"I thought you would say something like that," she said, arms crossed against her chest as she leaned her weight against the bark of an elder tree beside the elf's tent. "Which is why," she trailed off, digging through her vest pocket for something. "I got you this!" She held out a small black pouch that gave off an odd aroma the likes of which Solas cannot recall ever encountering.

"What is that?" He asked curiously.

"Beans!" She said proudly, a grin on her face before her nose scrunched up. "Well, not beans beans. Ground beans. You know what I mean." No, he truly did not. And Lavellan seemed to see his confusion as she continued to ramble nervously, suddenly unsure about the little pouch she held in her grasp. "They're coffee beans. Like tea, but not tea. No leaves, just beans. Good beans, trust me. I got them from Josephine, they're from Antiva and …"

"And this is for …?" Solas interrupted, feeling that if he did not do so, then Lavellan would continue to ramble on.

"For you," she said simply as she pushed the pouch into his grasp, her hands brushing against his own as she pushed his fingers closed around the small gift. "It's – I know you don't like tea, so I thought … " she trailed off, jerking her hands away as she realized they were still cupped around his own.

Solas blinked at the elf in surprise. "How did you know I don't like tea?"

And Lavellan just looked at him, eyes big and knowing, as if she could see right through him. It sent a shiver up his back and put him on edge in a way very few have done in ages. Solas was suddenly wary of this woman, wary.. and intrigued. The moment was gone within seconds however as the rogue grinned up at him, smile wide and infectious that Solas felt his own lips twitch upwards a smidge. "So I was right?" She chanced a guess and began to shift on her feet uncomfortably. "If you don't like it, you don't have to drink any. I don't want you to force yourself to… "

Solas instinctively clutched the gift closer to himself at her words. "Nonsense," he interrupted, smiling softly in reassurance. "I would love to try some, if you would like to come join me?" He offered. It was the least he could do, considering the thoughtful gift she had given him.

Lavellan's eyes lit up and Solas tried in vain to tamper down the feeling of content that he had when she grabbed him by the hand and began to chat excitedly about everything and nothing as they walked towards the fire, his other hand clutched tightly around her gift.