I borrowed the premise and some paragraphs for this chapter from my other fic, Chase, because I loved it so much and wanted to expand upon it. So for those who read that one and liked it, I hope you enjoy this less generic and much expanded version.
Laughter, smuts, and feels contained within!
Enjoy!
Anniversary
"Varric, where are we going?" Arya asked, exasperated, though amused at her friend's demeanor. He had been reticent these past few months since Hawke's death, and this was the first time she had seen him truly excited since. It was the main reason that she agreed to go with him.
"You'll see." He replied. She threw up her hands in her annoyance and he chuckled as they walked down the keep's front steps. Skyhold buzzed with activity, and she earned many enthusiastic waves from people who were bustling about carrying various things.
"What are people so excited about?" Arya asked, confused. "I am pleased, but…" she stopped at the foot of the steps, as Varric was making a beeline for the tavern. Three large casks stood prepped in the courtyard by the tavern's entrance.
"Varric…" she said warningly.
"Just come on." Her eyes narrowed. She had hoped for a quiet evening, but that didn't seem to be Varric's plan. She appealed to Solas for help, but he just smirked at her, standing cross armed on the steps behind her, hip cocked. He waved a hand at her to continue and she glared, but turned and followed Varric, sighing heavily.
As they neared the tavern, the humdrum of many voices became audible and Arya felt her pulse quicken at her nerves.
"Hey everyone, look who I found!" Varric shouted when he crossed the threshold, having the foresight to grab Arya so that she didn't bolt.
"Surprise!" The tavern roared as she was dragged in and even though she suspected something of this nature, she jumped from the sheer volume of the collective cheer.
"I will get you for this, you furry little miscreant." She grumbled to Varric. Josephine approached her, laughing slightly as she glided elegantly next to her side.
"Oh, it wasn't his fault, Your Worship. He was just doing me a favor." Josephine's smooth, amused voice answered, slightly raised to be heard over the din. Varric bowed mockingly to her, winked at Arya, and was lost in the crowd.
"As I am sure you are aware, Inquisitor," she continued, "your triumph of slaying the first dragon since the Hero of Fereldan has spread through the Inquisition like wildfire, and our dwarf friend," she gestured in the direction he disappeared, "convinced me now would be a good time for a celebration, since we have had little to celebrate since Adamant."
"So this is his fault." Arya remarked. Josephine smiled and shook her head.
"I had something in the works anyway, since next week will mark six months since your acceptance as Inquisitor!" Her last few words were ringing in a rallying shout, and the tavern roared its approval. Arya laughed in spite of herself.
"Oh, so they have wine I take it?" Arya teased Josephine's cry, which was uncharacteristic of the non-tipsy Antivan. She blushed prettily and shrugged.
"Yes….from Antiva. It is the best." She conceded.
"Alright…but I won't stay for too long…I want a quiet evening." Josephine smiled, but made no comment.
She was swept up in the crowd, enduring handshakes, cheers, congratulations, hugs. She merely rode the waves of emotion as she usually did, grateful that time and practice had made the ritual easier. Plus, there was the added fun of her patrons and friends existing in varying stages of drunkenness, and she had her bottom playfully smacked by a tipsy, cackling Sera, who scampered off before she could be scolded. Arya's face flared red, mortified when the onlookers first gasped and then laughed.
"Make way, make way you sorry sots!" Iron Bull was shoving himself through the crowd. "It's my turn! I claim the Inquisitor's first drinks!" As he stood in front of her, he beamed and reached down to engulf her in a bear hug, his massive arms wrapping around her, pinning her arms to her side as he lifted her feet clear of the ground. She squeaked pitifully as he crushed the air out of her lungs, and would swear that she heard her back pop at least seven times.
As Iron Bull carried her over to the bar in this manner, she noted that Solas had not followed her into the tavern, but she was not surprised: Solas was very much like a cat in regards to his aversion to noise and boisterousness. He probably slunk away after he shooed her to go with Varric.
She cast her magic out in search of him, having to widen her search when she did not sense him on the bottom floor. As she looked to the higher floors, she felt his brief acknowledgement as her mind brushed his – he was on the third floor. She sent him a brief irritation, to which she felt him smirk. She sighed in defeat, smiling when he returned the affection she sent him.
As Iron Bull plopped her down onto a barstool, she stole a glance upwards. He was next to Cole, leaning against the railing as he watched the celebration below. With a small smile, he nodded to her and held up a goblet to toast her in a wordless "cheers." She grinned at him, amused that he was drinking. Cole was even smiling as he sat on the railing, feet dangling precariously over the edge.
"Come, have a drink!" He offered her a small glass and raised it in a toast. "To killing a High Dragon like warriors of legend!" He shouted the phrase into the tavern and everyone cheered and stopped what they were doing to take a collective drink.
"What…exactly am I supposed to be drinking?" She sniffed it, unsure. It made the hairs in her nose quiver and recoil and she made a face. Iron Bull laughed.
"Malas-lok! Now, this isn't some prissy wine you sip. When you drink it, tilt your head back and drain it in one quick, manly go."
"What does 'malas-lok' mean?" She asked apprehensively as she eyed her glass, unsure about an alcoholic beverage that required directions to imbibe.
"It means drink!" Arya laughed and shrugged, then clinked her glass against his, tilting her head back as she drained her tiny cup.
Instantly she coughed and spluttered, feeling her eyes water as she put the empty glass back on the bar, covering her mouth in attempt to quell her coughing. The fellow men at the bar who had been watching roared with laughter, and the man next to her slapped her on the back encouragingly.
"I know, right? Puts some chest on your chest!" Iron Bull thundered.
Arya spluttered a laugh as she felt warmth rush to her head and her sinuses cleared instantly. She couldn't help laugh as she listened to him he gush about their fight with the dragon, his face animated and eyes distant and admiring. She had never seen him so excited.
"Wait…that Qunari phrase, you shouted it during the fight, too – what does it mean?" Iron Bull laughed as he refilled her glass.
"I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect!"
She felt her mouth fall open as heat rushed to her face. "You shouted that while it was breathing fire at us?!" she said, unsure whether to be amused or incredulous. He held up his glass again and Arya looked unsure, but was enjoying Iron Bull's happiness too much to deny him. He had precious little to be happy about since he lost the Chargers for her.
Besides…it was important to try new things.
She still coughed and spluttered after the second shot, but her eyes didn't water and her sinuses were already cleared.
"Yeah, the second cup's easier. Most of the nerves in your throat are dead after the first one."
"No kidding!" she coughed and pounded her chest with her fist in attempt to calm her body.
She sat back in her stool, receptive as she listened to Iron Bull's slurred gushing of dragons, enjoying the feel of the drink and Iron Bull's enthusiastic vibe.
Sera appeared so suddenly from behind the bar counter that Arya almost fell back in her barstool, but managed to catch herself with help from a laughing Iron Bull.
"What's that drink there?" she picked up Arya's glass and sniffed it. "Wooooooo, what in pissbuckets is that? Some Qunari thingy? I wanna try! Gimme!" She held out the glass and Iron Bull laughed drunkenly as he poured her glass full.
Sera sniffed it. "Ohhhh, yea. This is gonna be good." She held up the glass to Arya. "Your glorious ladybits" she toasted, then drained the glass, slamming it down on the table after a slight shake of her head.
"Mmmph, mmmmmmmm...no wonder your women are so…woof." She licked her lips suggestively and Iron Bull chuckled. "Drinking strong shite like that. AWWWOOOOOO!" Sera howled, startling several people at the bar, who just stared at her.
Arya hid her face in her hands, stifling a laugh.
Her attention was drawn to the minstrels as the tavern erupted with shouts of joy and the scuffling on many feet as they struck up a loud, boisterous tune. She turned in her barstool and watched her people, enjoying how they scrambled to find a partner and gathered in pairs in the center of the room.
Sera nimbly hopped over the counter and landed in the recently vacated stool next to Arya, tucking her feet underneath her as she crossed her legs, knees bouncing excitedly. Arya grinned at her ragamuffin of a friend, feeling at ease with the world and happy with Iron Bull's cheeriness. Her cheeks felt warm and her limbs light, and she sighed happily as she looked at Sera expectantly.
"Come on there, ladybits, let's get jiggy with it!" She cackled, smirking.
"Let's…what?" Her brain was foggy from the Qunari drink, which was apparently much more potent that the wine to which Josephine had introduced her. She couldn't stop grinning, feeling happy and loose.
"Dance, numbskull. You do know how to dance, right?" Sera asked, slightly baffled.
"No…" She said, doubtful and eyeing her scheming friend warily.
"Awww, come on. You fight wicked bad beasties bent on murder and mayhem and are afraid of dancing? Psshhh." She blew a raspberry and Arya laughed.
"I know how to fight. I don't know how to dance. I'll look stupid, especially after whatever Iron Bull gave me." She replied, elbowing her friend's massive arm. Iron Bull chuckled.
"And all these people know how to fight, yea? These bakers and farmers come to fight the magic hole in the sky with pitchforks and rolling pins? It'll be good for them to see you trying something new. You ask it of them."
Arya hesitated, considering. She just hated feeling foolish in public.
"Awww, come on! It's good for you!" Before she could protest, the rogue had grabbed her roughly by the hand and dragged her off of the barstool. Arya barely managed to get her feet underneath her in time as the blonde elf pulled her to the crowd of people. She started to fight until she noticed the huge cheer of the crowd as they rushed to join. She was swept up in their joy and smiled in spite of herself.
She grinned as she felt Solas's amused approval as he brushed her mind, meekly complying as much as possible with Sera brusquely arranged her hands into a dancing position. Her limbs felt awkward and in all the wrong places.
"Now, ladybits, keep your twinkly fingers above my waist or your little elfy man might get jealous!" Sera warned before giggling outrageously. Arya was about to give a tart reply, remembering her previous spank, but Sera has whisked her in a circle as the dance began.
Though she had never felt more foolish and inadequate in her whole life, dancing was thoroughly enjoyable, even if Sera teased her each time she stepped on her toes, which was frequently. She was having fun, however, and her fellow dancers seemed to enjoy her trying, laughing good naturedly when she turned the wrong way or missed a step. By the end of the dance, she was out of breath and laughing, but managed to get the rhythm of the last few musical refrains.
When the number finished, the tavern erupted in applause and Arya gave a flamboyant bow, earning the crowd's laughter as she rose, grinning.
"See? Told you." Sera grinned cheekily before grabbing a serving girl as the next dance began. Arya tried to sneak away to the periphery, but found herself pulled into Dorian's arms. He waggled his eyebrows at her and she groaned.
"Noooo, I feel the fool. Please don't make me." She complained as he began to lead her. "And how do you know this dance?" she added.
"Oh, it's not nearly so difficult as you make it appear." He winked at her and she laughed.
She began to be passed around from one partner to the next, dancing with soldiers, scouts, blacksmiths, and friends alike. She was sweating by the end of the fifth dance. Iron Bull spun her a little too hard and she almost crashed into a table where Dorian and Varric were playing Wicked Grace. Dorian managed to catch her before she collided unceremoniously with the table.
"I told you you'd fall for me eventually, my dear." he teased theatrically, and the tavern roared with laughter. Arya, slightly dizzy from the combination of drink and lack of oxygen, tipped her hand in a mock bow to her audience, which caused another round of laughter.
"You up for another one, pretty thing?" Dorian asked, still holding her up.
"Gods, no. I want to sit down." She replied with a laugh. "And another drink….Josie, what was that you said about Antivan wine?"
Solas had been irritated that Varric had stolen Arya from him, particularly for a tavern party, for they had only been in Skyhold a few hours and Arya had spent most of that time with Elsa, one of the elven adolescents they had rescued from the dilapidated temple near Val Chevin. Elsa had come to Skyhold with them, presumably to be near Arya, and the fiery teenager's demeanor had quelled noticeably since her rescue – she became withdrawn, quiet, and clingy with Arya, her frightened eyes wide and forever searching. She seemed almost afraid that if she questioned her good fortune, it might all disappear.
Arya had astutely given her charge to Mother Giselle, who lived in a room off of the Keep's garden. The gentle and kind Mother had worked wonders on the girl, but she was still afraid to leave the peaceful sanctuary of the garden, where people spoke only in hushed whispers as to not disturb others' meditations and prayers. As such, Arya went to visit her immediately after she had bathed and seen the keep's chief healer.
Keeping his mask up, he had grumpily followed the pair from his pagoda, curious as to what Varric was so excited about. His attitude changed slightly when he saw the three large casks of wine by the tavern's entrance. He knew where this was leading and halted, still encouraging Arya forward. His presence would not be needed.
As the patrons became distracted by their Inquisitor's arrival, Solas stole his way to the casks, politely asking a guard for a goblet of wine from a barrel he recognized as Antivan from the crest over its spigot – he hadn't had a good wine in a very long time, though he expected he would within the week when they traveled to the Winter Palace. The guard looked surprised, but grinned as he handed the full goblet to the elf, who nodded his thanks and sneaked his way up to the ramparts.
A large, fluffy tabby cat was perched on the stone parapet by the entrance to the tower adjacent to the tavern. She sat with her paws tucked underneath her breast, watching the commotion in the courtyard below with disdain, tail twitching in her irritation. He smiled when he saw her, for she had been absent since their return and he was concerned for her.
She turned to watch him approach and blinked her eyes lazily. He extended his hand and scratched her ears, and she rubbed her head against his hand.
"I would not care for such commotion, either, friend." He told her as he rubbed the bridge of her nose before opening the door to the tower. She chirped as she jumped down, bottlebrush tail erect as she scampered through the door in front of him so that he almost tripped over her. The process was repeated with the door to the tavern.
As Solas expected, the third floor was empty, for which he was glad. Cole was sitting on the railing, watching the people in the tavern below as he rocked back and forth. The cat jumped up and sat beside him, rubbing her face against his hand affectionately. He looked down at her and petted her carefully, and she sat back and regarded him with her large yellow eyes. Cole looked at her seriously.
"Yes…I know." He told her. Seemingly satisfied, she jumped down and disappeared from sight.
"Greetings, Cole." Solas said as he approached, amused by the transaction. He sipped his wine and sighed with pleasure – it was dry, crisp, and left a tingle on the tongue. He took a longer draught and shivered, contented. It was excellent wine.
"Hello." Cole said simply in his dreamy voice, and Solas was pleased to hear the joy in it. "I like her. She is wise."
Solas chuckled, "It is odd to see a cat so at ease with a spirit, for most are even easily spooked by people. I often wonder from where she comes." He leaned next to Cole on the railing.
"Somewhere old." Cole replied. Solas nodded, contemplating.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" He eventually asked, and Cole nodded, hat flopping from the motion.
"I like it here. Many who come here are sad, somber, seeking solace from something, soothing the self with spirits and songs, but people are happy now."
"Yes, I imagine this night, your mind shall be quieted." He sipped his wine again and looked over the railing to the ground floor.
He watched as Arya made her rounds in the crowd, smirking as he saw Sera smack her bum before running away. Arya's baffled outrage was quickly masked by a broad smile as Iron Bull swam his way through the people to her and picked her up, carrying her towards the bar.
He smiled as he felt the wisp of her wanting magic search the tavern in search of him, and he waited for her to find him. He almost laughed at her displeasure, for they had both would have preferred a quiet evening to be alone together. When she expressed her love a second later, he was reminded of her fluffy cat in how she rubbed her head against his hand affectionately. He responded in kind and was rewarded with her joy before she withdrew the touch.
He watched her, happy when she looked up to see him. His mind starting to buzz pleasantly, he raised his glass to salute her and she grinned hugely before returning her attention to Iron Bull, accepting a proffered cup. He reveled in the now familiar warm tug on his heart her smile elicited.
Normally he would have filled his goblet and left the noise and bustle of the tavern, but his curiosity with Arya stayed his retreat, as it usually did. He found himself drawn to her, enjoying the thrill of observing her in addition to their private conversation as their consciousness brushed the other's.
Truth be told, he was enjoying himself immensely: he spent his life wandering the Fade seeking wisdom, watching the interactions of those who were long dead in countless cultures time had forgotten, yet it had been a long time since he had taken time to watch those who yet live. And with this observation of the present, he got to watch her.
She was a delight, and he laughed at her attempts to dance with Sera, knowing that her being there was most likely at the rogue's persistence. While crass and selfish, Sera did have some interesting points about inspiring the "little folks," lending much insight into her motivations as a Red Jenny. While Arya often voiced her frustration with her comrade to him, she also expressed her relief that they had finally reached an understanding.
As such, he conceded his pride of her that she was attempting such a thing as dancing – he knew she must be incredibly uncomfortable, for her obvious competence did not extend to quick and rowdy steps. She was a magnificent creature, sure – graceful and surefooted as she scaled trees and climbed, but she had not yet been taught the steps of the rowdy dance, and he was sure her foggy brain was not her ally in this matter.
She owned it well, however, gracious with the teasing, laughing, mocking herself, and as always, he was impressed with how well she did to endear herself to her people and win their loyalty. They would love her even if she weren't the Herald of Andraste.
"You don't mind that they touch her?" Cole asked.
Solas shook his head, unconcerned.
"Their touches are superficial, more to reassure themselves of her tangibility than any want of her. They are aware that she is mine."
Even as he said this, he watched as Iron Bull spun her roughly and Dorian catching her before she crashed into the table in which he, Josephine, Blackwall, Cullen, and Varric sat playing Wicked Grace. As she had for the duration of her dances, she owned her deficiency well, laughing at herself and gave another mocking bow, much to the taverngoers' delight.
While he knew his jealousy was unfounded, he was still mildly irked when Dorian settled her on his lap. This was not an unfamiliar feeling where the Tevinter was concerned, for she often expressed physical affection to the man. While annoyed, he didn't feel threatened, for the man was merely affectionate, doting on her with innocuous touches that were merely manifestations of his flamboyant nature.
Josephine leaned over to her and whispered something, and both of the women giggled. Arya's mind brushed his again and he wasn't able to hide his slight annoyance from her, to which he felt her amusement and mild scolding. He was reassured as her magical tendrils ghosted across his face to run along the length of his ears playfully, teasing him. He suppressed a groan and relaxed, satisfied as she withdrew her touch.
He watched the party continue, growing wary as more and more people came to dance at the tavern's floor. The noise was starting to become offensive, and he was debating about retreating to his pagoda when the minstrels finally took a break to go drink. In the sudden absence of dancing boots and music, all eyes turned to a roar of triumph. He looked to a corner to find a large crowd of people surrounding a table where Iron Bull stood with his arms raised in victory. He watched, curious, as a man approached the center of the circle, and both he and Iron Bull sat down across from each other and began to arm wrestle. Iron Bull beat him easily, slamming the man's arm against the table and roared a challenge to the crowd.
"I am the mighty dragon hunter! No one can match my might!"
Dorian left the game of Wicked Grace and approached the crowd, puffing up his chest as he strutted.
"Enough of this flim-flammery." The mage drawled, "Let me show you how a real man does it." There were conspiratorial "oohhhhs!" as the crowd watched with interest.
"Come, on 'Vint! Put your money where your mouth is!" Iron Bull roared loudly in challenge, beating his chest with both fists enthusiastically for emphasis. Dorian laughed and contemplated, stroking his goatee with a forefinger and thumb as he gave it a thought.
"I will take that bet my good man, um….sir." He took a moment give Iron Bull a once over and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
The whole tavern crowded around the pair, so Solas was unable to see the match, but appreciated both the duration of the match and the crowd's drunken reactions to it.
Eventually, there was a thud and Iron Bull stood with a roar, arm raised above his head. And the tavern cheered.
"The Iron Bull is the man, YEAH!" Iron Bull said, pumping a fist into the air.
"Petty arm games." Dorian dismissed with a sniff. "We should take this outside and I will show you a thing or two."
"What, a fight? You think you can beat me in a fight?" Iron Bull's slurred words were incredulous as he posed.
"Oh yes, I'll even do it with my magic tied behind my back." Dorian replied.
Iron Bull grabbed a cup on the table and drained it in one go, wiping his mouth on his arm.
"You're on, Vint! Better take off that shirt there, little buddy – I wouldn't want to mess up your pretty dress."
"It's a robe, thank you very much. Remember...mage?" he pointed to himself. "And no shirts? How delightfully uncivilized." Dorian ripped off his shirt and struck a pose, squeezing his pectoralis muscles one by one. Many of the women in the audience "ooooooed" appreciatively.
"Sorry, ladies, this package isn't for you." Dorian called, and there were giggles mixed into the collective sounds of disappointment.
"Shut up and let's do this, pretty boy!" The crowd followed the two men out into the courtyard.
Solas looked over to Arya, having to laugh at how she hid her face in her hands to hide her embarrassment as Josephine and Varric openly laughed. Cullen also looked embarrassed, to which Solas smirked.
Having had enough for the evening, he bid Cole a good night and made for the door to the ramparts.
As Solas ascended the wooden stairs, the cat materialized and waited at the door leading to the tower. He smirked and opened the door for her. As he stepped into the cool night air, the full force of the Inquisition's celebration became evident as cries and cheers were carried up to him on the wind. He looked out across the frozen river at the main camp at the numerous fires, still awed at the forces the Inquisition had mustered in such a short time, even if most were merely militia. They were a force to be reckoned with, and were downright dangerous…he was glad he trusted their leader.
A more proximal surge of cheers came from the keep's courtyard, where the crowd had gathered around a pair of people in the proposed wrestling match – Dorian and Iron Bull.
He shook his head as he smiled, but was unable to see the squabble. He decided to return to his pagoda and enjoy the rest of the evening quietly. Maybe read his new book. He snuck down to the casks, refilled his drink, and made his way up the main steps to the Great Hall.
As he entered the pagoda, he sighed in relief as silence engulfed the tower as the door closed behind him. The cat ran to her armchair and hopped up to sleep. A raven squawked and he scowled as he looked up. Well, it'd be a mostly silent evening.
He crossed to his couch and grabbed the book from the nightstand, one Leliana had procured at his request. It was one of the tales of the Hero of Fereldan, the author a stuffy scholar in Denerim. He had yet to read this account, for the prose was pompous and rather dry, but it provided an interesting perspective of Ilyara and he reasoned that reading about her conquering of "Andraste Reborn" at the Temple of Sacred Ashes would be particularly appropriate this evening.
Time was lost as he devoured the pages, sipping the rest of his wine, which made the book much less of a chore to read.
He became aware of the dryness in his mouth and realized he had not been hydrating himself adequately this evening to compensate for the wine that he was drinking. He stood and stretched, making for the water pitcher on his desk.
As he picked it up, he scowled – it was empty, and he'd have to cross the Great Hall to sneak to the kitchens. He entered the Great Hall, realizing it must be later than he thought - there were only a few groups of people at the banquet tables laughing and drinking, their speech slurred from drink and tiredness. He ignored them as he walked by, assured they would remember nothing of his rudeness the following morning.
As he opened the door off of the Great Hall that led downstairs to the kitchen, he stopped as he heard a noise, foot hovering over a stone step. There were voices coming from Josephine's office, which was strange – Josephine would not be entertaining this late in the evening, and he was sure she'd still be playing cards at the tavern, never wanting to miss a chance to show her talent. Besides, it was late enough that she would be in her bedroom, not it her office.
Frowning, he paused and listened at the doorway, letting his awareness expand.
There was a quiet murmur of male voices, but Solas was unable to make out any of the words, for even the minute noise from the Great Hall drowned out the whispered words.
He heard a scuffle followed by a crash of a metal pot falling to the stone floor.
"Blast it!" a man swore.
Solas was torn, not wanting to disturb Josephine's privacy and enter her space without permission, but the voices belonged to those who obviously did not wish to be discovered. His wine-addled brain did nothing to aid his judgment.
Solas threw open the door, hoping to surprise the intruders. But it was not burglars that he found…
Iron Bull had Dorian pinned against the wall of her office, the Qunari's large hands held the Tevinter's up against the wall as they kissed, their bodies flushed to each other, both of their shirts still removed, their chests and clothes covered in the mud. They looked up in surprise when Solas walked in, but didn't spring apart.
Solas's felt his eyebrows rise and his mouth fall slightly open in his shock as heat rose in his face. His wine buzz combined with his complete and utter surprise made words fall from his grasp as his brain tried to catch up with the images his eyes were seeing.
They stood there staring at each other for a while, none of them knowing quite what to say. Iron Bull recovered first, letting his one of his arms fall from Dorian's wrist as he opened his stance, leaning lazily against the wall so that Solas could have a full view of his naked chest. The Qunari's shoulders were back and confident, and he extended his hand outward as if to say, "well?"
"So….you gonna join in or just stand there like an imbecile?" Iron Bull said humorously, and Dorian laughed outright as one of his hands smoothed his mussed hair.
"I…uhh…" Solas stopped and swallowed, trying to regain his dignity. "I apologize for the intrusion." Solas spoke, nodding his head politely as he retreated, closing the door to their laughter.
He suddenly found himself back in his room – he must've walked there his daze. He shook himself again, wondering why they picked Josephine's room – Iron Bull's was in the dungeon and not that far away.
He decided that he didn't want to know.
He looked at his hand and glowered at the still empty pitcher – he had forgot to go fill it in the kitchen. When he returned, he filled his glass and set it next to his goblet of wine, and resumed reading his book.
He had only read a few pages when Arya searched for him and he replied, amused at the fogginess of her mental touch.
A few minutes later, he was startled by a loud BLAM of a door smacking the wall as it was flung open. He watched as Arya wobbled into the room sheepishly, her head bowed in amused shame for having caused such a loud noise. She had to clutch the ladder of his platform to steady herself, giggling all the while.
He chuckled at her inebriation, and decided to feign disinterest of her to see what she would do. So he didn't greet her as she swayed against the ladder, but his eyes watched her over the top of the pages.
When she was satisfied she was steady, she looked up for the first time and surveyed the room, grinning broadly as she caught sight of him, even thought he was pretending to ignore her. He felt that tug on his heart and smiled in spite of himself, but wiped the smile from his face and resumed ignoring her.
She looked back to the ladder, her anchor from the drink, then back to him, unsure. She hesitated only slightly before she released the ladder, but managed to wobble to his desk successfully. The fluffy cat jumped onto the desk with a mew, greeting her.
"Heeeeyyy, kitty!" her happy words were slurred as she grabbed the fluffy creature and hugged it to her chest, rubbing her face into the fur. Had she been anyone else, even Solas, the cat would've savaged her for such an act. But the cat cuddled against her and purred, a reaction that always amazed him. No other person in Skyhold could do such a thing.
Arya stood against the desk, swaying as she cuddled the cat for a while before dumping her unceremoniously onto the floor. She landed on four feet gracefully and sauntered back over to the armchair in Solas's room, where she hopped up and resumed covering the object with brown fur.
Arya grinned as she watched her, then hurriedly approached Solas. She stood in front of him, hands behind her back, acting for all the world like shy little girl. He did not look at her, but turned a page of his book absently, lazily. Uncaring.
Unsatisfied with his assumed indifference, she wriggled up into the circle of his arms, her rich red hair and pointed ears displacing his book from sight as she snuggled against his chest. He chuckled, placing his book on the stand next to the couch, careful not to disturb the glasses of liquid. The feeling of her warm, soft body pressed against him was magical, and he surrendered to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She sighed happily, content with her victory for his attention. He grinned and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her vanilla scent.
"Had a little too much, Inquisitor?" He asked innocently, and he felt her grin against his chest.
"Nahhh….it was just the right amount." She hiccupped and snuggled closer, nosing his neck affectionately. "The only thing better than this feeling is the one I get from touching you, mister man….hic…elf" she giggled outrageously as her arms wrapped themselves around his neck, maximizing their interface with each other. He kissed her cheek sweetly, immensely enjoying her giggle of delight at the action.
She had positively melted against him, more relaxed than he remembered her being, and he recognized this was a night to celebrate her hard won victories. It had been months since she had a chance to allow herself to relax completely, and he wanted her to have a good time. He was glad that he had drank just enough to loosen his inhibitions and still his reticence in giving her affection, for he knew her respect for him and his personal space stayed much of her own affections. Another reason he didn't mind her relationship with Dorian.
"So I ran into Iron Bull and Dorian." Solas told her casually, grinning.
"I know! I never knew Dorian was so strong! I'm surprised he almost beat Bull." she said excitedly.
"Oh, I meant I saw them after that."
"Oh?"
"Oh, yes…they were wrestling, alright." She pulled back and looked at him in confusion, then her eyes widened.
"No!" She said, almost accusing, her hands covering her mouth as her eyes brightened.
He smirked. "True, I am no expert, but imagine the way Iron Bull had Dorian pinned against the wall with his mouth indicates that they were doing more than merely a training exercise."
Arya clapped her hands together excitedly before covering her mouth again.
"I would never have guessed." She giggled. "Good for them." She clapped her hands together excitedly again before enthusiastically snuggling back against him. He grinned and rearranged his arms around her. She sighed happily, nuzzling the fabric of his shirt.
"I am glad that you had a good time, emm'asha." He said sincerely, pulling her close to him.
"I was half expecting you to disapprove." She said, relieved.
"How could I ever disapprove of such magnificent dancing?" she groaned and lazily punched his arm.
"Sera had to drag me onto the dance floor – I felt so silly and out of place." She sat upright and looked at him, her eyes wide. "She smacked my bottom! In front of everyone." she said in a shocked whisper. Solas laughed outright, for her horror at the notion was more than adorable, since her innocence with him disappeared a while ago.
"Yes, well, it is a nice bottom." He squeezed her bum in emphasis, and her face reddened and she giggled before seeking shelter in his chest again, burying her forehead into his neck as her arms wrapped around her neck. He pulled her close to him, basking in her scent.
"It was brave of you, vhenan, and it was a good thing to do for your men. Morale is more important than any amount of training." He arranged her in his lap and pulled her closer, "Besides, we have nowhere to be until we leave for Orlais. Might as well enjoy the respite while we can."
She nodded into his chest. She inhaled deeply, then spoke quietly, hushed. "You smell like…safe. Like outside and man. And parchment." She giggled and his heart warmed at her words. "But no campfire, needs more campfire." He grinned. Yes, fire was a good smell.
Her hand fell from his neck and sought his chest, fingers digging into the fabric suggestively as she nestled closer to him. The air around them began to grow warm and he felt himself becoming aroused by her touch and insinuation. He shifted her slightly in his lap to relieve the pressure.
"Well…" he murmured into her ear, kissing the lobe gently. "What brings you here in your drunken stupor, vhenan?" he teased. "Were you hoping I can help you wobble up the stairs?" He smirked before nuzzling the ridge of her pointed ear with the tip of his nose, remembering her previous totter over to him on the couch.
She laughed raucously and her grip around his neck tightened. "That's exactly what I was hoping," she whispered in a seductive, primal voice, causing him to shudder in anticipation as gooseflesh raced down his body. She straightened in his lap and shifted her legs so that she was straddling him on the couch, her magnificent green eyes sparkling wickedly.
He felt blood rush to his groin as she pressed her hips into his suggestively, her eyes locked with his as she ground against him. He groaned as she gently bit the soft flesh under his jaw, and wrapped his arms around her behind, pulling her hips against his now hard member. Utilizing the drink's gift of boldness, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him urgently, probing his mouth with her tongue and he groaned again as he clung to her, bringing her closer. While she had grown comfortable with their intimacy over the past month couple of months, she had never asserted herself on him this way. Her gusto aroused him greatly.
She pulled back suddenly, grinning mischievously. She stood, well…fell backwards and his hands shot out to steady her. She clung to him, laughing, and took his hand. She stopped suddenly and glared at something next to his head, eyes widened.
He turned his head then laughed out loud - the cat sat on the nightstand adjacent to his head, watching her, looking almost smug.
"Were you watching?" she asked it, eyes both reproachful and horrified.
She twitched her tail unconcernedly then stretched her paws out in front of her, yawning widely. She rubbed her head against Solas's ear before hopping to the floor and retreating from sight. They both watched her go.
"How rude." Arya bristled.
Solas chuckled as he stood, wrapping her in his arms and kissing the top of her head. She looked up at him and grinned, standing on her toes to kiss him sweetly. Before her lips met his, he bent her backwards in his arms, pulling her waist close to him as he dipped her back toward the ground. He stifled her shriek of surprise with a kiss, and her tension melted away as he kissed her soundly before standing her back up.
She smiled shyly at him.
"You should drink more often." She told him cheekily, and he chuckled. "I like that. Felt like a princess for a moment." She took his hand and led him to the door into the Great Hall. He grinned with amused at the insistence of his beautiful, fierce creature that loved him so.
"Emm'asha…" he said doubtfully as she insisted, knowing that others would most likely be in the Hall and see them as they made their way to her bedchambers. She turned around and gave him a hard, long look that screamed, "Really? You're not going to take advantage of this? Really?" His member flexed in anticipation, and his desire won out over caution at being seen.
Mercifully, the Great Hall was empty as she almost dragged him by the hand to her chambers.
He heard an enthusiastic wolf whistle and whirled abruptly to see, to his immense horror, that Varric was at his table, feet propped up, watching them. He was smoking a pipe and grinning impishly at the two elves. A large stack of coins was on the table, the results of his tavern conquers, the columns gleaming against the flickering firelight. He must have called it a night and come to put his winnings away.
When Solas met his eyes, Varric winked raucously and blew out a large puff of smoke. Solas was infuriated to feel heat rising in his face as he flushed crimson. She just laughed and continued on, unabashed.
He did have to help her wobble up the stairs, which she found absolutely hilarious. While initially annoyed that she wasn't trying harder, knowing that it was not that difficult to ascend stairs while drunk, he was finding it difficult to be upset at her when she was so obviously having a good time: her face flushed with drink and laughter as she relied on his help to navigate the steps.
He also enjoyed the kisses she insisted upon every few feet. She'd kiss him, on the lips, ears, neck, or hand periodically, teasing him until he shoved her against the wall of her chambers and ground himself against her and she whimpered in pleasure as he took her neck in his mouth hungrily. He was thrilled as how responsive she was to his touch, her senses amplified by drink. She was also more vocal than usual, her whimpers of pleasure driving his arousal higher. She wrapped her legs around his waist and matched the rocking of his hips before she'd squirm free, giggling, and try to take more steps.
When they reached the main level, she gave a cry of joy and ran to the doors of the balcony and threw them open, running out to the ledge. Terrified she'd overshoot and fall over the balcony in her drunkenness, he ran after her, only to find the balcony empty. Confused, he looked back at the room to see her, knees bent as if she was about to run, her eyes beckoning, impish. She wobbled a little, drink altering her sense of balance.
Still confused, he approached her, only for her to spring away when he came within arm's reach. She ran a few feet away and assumed the same position, eyes begging him to catch her. He grinned with understanding.
Delighted by her playfulness, he sauntered casually over to her, pouncing at the last second. She squealed and barely managed to roll out of his grasp and shuffled just out of arm's reach. But he was too fast for her, pouncing again, and managed to pin her arms against the floor on the soft carpet.
He attacked her neck with his mouth, kissing it urgently as she moaned and rocked against him from below. He felt her arms relax in his grip and he freed them, allowing them to cling to his back and pull him close into a deep kiss. He crushed his mouth against hers, desire for her overwhelming him.
And then, quite suddenly, she was gone. What? How had she moved that fast? She was drunk…she needed help navigating the stairs. He growled and spun around, searching for her,
Thus it was a game of chase around her chambers, Arya giggling as she fled, dodging up and around him, a wisp of a creature that laughed at him as she easily danced out of reach, stumbling only occasionally as her intoxication betrayed her. It was usually then that he caught her, growling as he pinned her to the wall or the floor and kissed her fiercely, hungrily, rubbing himself against her as she moaned with pleasure and returned his affections with gusto.
Eventually he could stand the chase no more. His mate led him on a merry game of cat-and-mouse, but he was the mighty hunter, and he would claim his prize. His female. His love. His mate.
When he caught her next, his lips found her mouth instead of her neck and he kissed her sweetly, gently. Sensing his shift in mood, she surrendered control, relaxing as she sighed in pleasure. She opened her mouth in invitation. His tongue probed into her mouth gently, causing her to tremble beneath him. When he broke away, he pulled back so that he could gaze at her face, eyes traveling over the flushed, slightly sweaty skin. He stroked her soft cheek with the back of his forefinger.
She was so beautiful, her face angular, yet there was that softness to it that belied her fiery nature. Her rich red hair was a tangle behind her on the floor, long since removed of its elaborate braiding, but it was those ever glorious green eyes that he captivated his exclusive attention. They sparkled, those eyes full of love and mischief. He grinned and rubbed the tip of his nose against her's.
"Ar lath ma, vhenan." He almost purred.
"Ar lath ma, ma'salath." He smiled softly, and captured her mouth in his.
Without removing his lips, his hands sought the hem of her shirt and removed it from her breeches with a light tug. When the shirt was free, he pulled it over her head as she leaned forward, not needing to undo the laces, as she was so tiny. As usual, she surrendered to his touch eagerly, eyes watching his face as he looked at her body.
Her chest was laid bare before him and his hands sought those small, perfect breasts that needed no breastband. He grasped a small mound in his hands, teasing the perked nipple as she sighed happily.
His fingers traced across her breast, down her exposed belly, and began to undo the laces of her breeches. His deft fingers worked quickly, and he slid his hand beneath her smallclothes to find her wet heat.
A heavy groan tore from his lips as he felt her, even more engorged and wet than the first time he had made her his. He ran his finger across her opening, teasing her with a wet finger as she moaned and clung to him, fingers mussing the fabric of his shirt, wanting more. Happy to oblige, he inserted a finger into her, stroking her gently, teasingly slow. She growled in frustration and pressed her hips up into his hand. He removed a finger and found her clitoris, rubbing the small button gently.
A sharp intake breath was followed by a cry of joy as he felt her body tense and shiver against him, mouth gaped open in pleasure as her eyes closed. He watched her moan and wriggle under his hands as he teased the tiny bundle of nerves, enjoying her noises of pleasure and her face open with unmasked bliss as she rocked slightly against his hand.
He lowered his forehead and pressed it gently to hers. She turned instantly to him, her mouth seeking his as she pulled him to her.
He wrapped his arms around her, gathering her against his chest as he sat back on his heels so that she moved up with him, her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist. He clutched her to him, kissing the hollow at the base of her throat eagerly as his hands moved down to grasp her bottom.
He easily lifted her as he stood, not even bothering to remove his mouth from the soft flesh of her throat laid bare to him. He carried her over to the bed, where he let gravity bring them to the mattress.
"You are wearing too many clothes." She groaned out. "That's not…fair." She suppressed the hiccup and almost clawed at the front of his shirt eagerly, fingers fumbling uncharacteristically with the laces. She frowned.
Amused, Solas gently removed her hands, kissing both of her palms gently before he sat back on his heels and began to undo his shirt, the laces falling away easily. Their eyes never left each other's until his shirt came free and he let it fall to the floor behind him. Her eyes went to his chest, and her hands reached out and integrated themselves into his chest hair, tugging gently as he rumbled a noise of satisfaction and closed his eyes. She grinned broadly, knowing he loved to have his chest played with.
She reminded him of her desire by arching herself into him, fingers curling in the black hair. His eyes snapped open as he was reminded of the wanting women beneath him, and he growled as her resumed his exploration of her half naked body. He pulled at her breeches, and she lifted her hips to facilitate their removal. He flung them across the room and hastily began to undo his own pants, fingers still deft despite his distraction and insistent need.
When he freed himself, she took him in her hands and he groaned as she rubbed him gently at first, then insistently. He was constantly amazed at how her skilled her tiny hands were, fumbling with laces with drink moments before, but still knowing exactly how he liked to be stroked.
He batted her hands away and prowled up her body, trailing kisses along her stomach, her sternum, her breasts, her neck, and finally her lips. He nuzzled her cheek while he slipped a practiced finger into her, ensuring she was ready for him. She was.
As he entered her, she gasped and clutched at him, one hand reaching under his arm and around his chest while the other grasped his neck, both drawing him close to her. As he moved against her, their chests flush against each other as his hips rocked against her, she spurned him faster.
He withdrew suddenly and grabbed her hips, flipping her over onto her tummy. She squawked in surprise, starting to protest as she rose onto her hands and knees, but he had already nudged her legs apart with his own and entered her again before she could get out a word.
The word on her lips morphed into a cry of surprise and pleasure at the new position, her head bowed so that her hair fell over her face and obscured her from him. His hands grasped her hips and pulled her against him with each thrust.
And so he made love to her, slowly at first so that she became accustomed to him this way, and then conceded to his body's want to speed his pace at this natural position, riding her. Taking his mate.
She turned around and looked at him, her waterfall of red curls over one shoulder oscillating with each of his thrusts. Her eyes radiated love and trust.
When he felt the pleasure begin to build, he placed a hand between her shoulderblades, encouraging her gently to the bed. She allowed him to press her torso against the soft covers, her bum still in the air, hips in his hands. She moaned at the deeper penetration, her cries building and her body tightening as she began to grind against him, encouraging her rising pleasure. He was pounding into her now, grinding his hips against her as he fought his own orgasm, unsatisfied unless she reached hers first.
He removed a hand from her hip and reached around, finding her clitoris easily. She bucked against him with a happy cry at his touch as he drove her to her climax.
He felt her orgasm, her body shuddering as it pulsed in waves. Her walls clamped around him rhythmically, and only then did he allow himself to spill into her. He clung to her, fingers tight around her hips.
He rubbed her back lovingly, fingertips ghosting over the soft flesh as he enjoyed the feel of being inside her as they remained joined, panting and sweaty - primal and, oh so right.
He withdrew from her regretfully and flipped her onto her back, her body nothing more than puddy in his hands. He grinned, immensely satisfied with himself as he sat on the bed, pulling her knees around his sides. As always, he placed the heel of his hand against her pubic bone, but stopped suddenly as he drew on his magic for the contraception charm.
Aware that his slight intoxication was seducing him, images intruded upon his mind unbidden as he watched her naked chest heave as she tried to catch her breath.
Arya sitting cross legged on the ground with a small Elven baby that was wrapped in one of his old shirts, no more than three months old – one of the children they had rescued along with Elsa. As they waited for reinforcements, Varric and Solas cared for the older children while Arya cared for the infant.
He brought himself back to the present, but his fingertips absently caressed the soft skin of her flat belly. His heart warmed as he lay a palm upon it, his mind failing again to beat back the invading images.
Her fiery, unforgiving face as she clutched the baby to her, successfully catching him after he was thrown at her by their retreating enemy, of whom Solas had pursued. When he returned successful, she was kneeling on the bloody ground as she held the baby flush against her chest, his head held steady against her shoulder. She was rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face as she tried to shush his wails. Her merciless eyes sought his and wordlessly asked the fate of his prey. He nodded in assurance, his own face grave. She stood then, and turned to return to the group of children with the howling infant in her arms.
Later, her face was alive and soft as she cooed at the baby lovingly, face enraptured despite the horrors they had just witnessed. Even with the cat, he had never seen her so enthralled and gorgeous as when she held that tiny life in her hands. She played with him in attempts to assess his well being, but he was of the last to be abducted, so he had the least chance for the abuse they witnessed. He babbled happily in her lap as they sat in a clearing, waiting for reinforcements to arrive.
At least the bastards had the sense to steal a nanny goat, and he recoiled thinking of why they would want to prolong the infant's life. Arya's face was content as she leaned against a tree with him in her arms, feeding him from a milk drenched cloth, rocking and humming softly. She positively glowed with a magic even more primal and profound than her ancient fire. He was utterly incapable of taking his eyes away from her. Such magic as she held the infant that smelled of him, wrapped in his shirt, was a potent force that threatened to consume him.
She had caught him staring at her before, but this time when their eyes met, her face softened, and her green eyes filled as she looked at the baby briefly before returning his gaze. He felt his face redden and had to look away, pretending yet again to mend a rip in his shirt.
"Makes you think, doesn't it?" Varric's voice came quietly from Solas's side, devoid of any of its usual humor. He met the dwarf's knowing eyes before turning back to Arya. He hung his head, his feelings extending so beyond his ability to express in words. Admiration, panic, love, despair, assurance, ire, want. Varric respected his reticence and stayed silent, but remained beside him as he waged war against himself.
That image of her was burned into his brain…that experience in watching her - it troubled him more than any other since joining the Inquisition. Blinding, primal, pure need tugged at his heart, threatening to undo everything he had worked for from its intensity. He had never before felt so overwhelmed and distracted by his instincts. He felt himself falling from his path, and it terrified him. What frightened him more was his consummate want to allow it to come to pass.
She was winning, damn her.
He wanted her completely, to make her his mate, to fill her with his child, and was trying desperately to convince himself away from that selfish path. He had spent several sleepless nights in that fierce internal struggle since, unable to find an answer and quell his disquiet at the staggering need that pulled at his heart.
"Solas?" she asked him, noting his mind had wandered. He shook himself and his hand glowed blue as he touched her, magic probing her. She giggled as she always did when he performed the charm.
"Why does that always tickle so much?" she squirmed.
"It is a very sensitive area, vhenan. Have you not noticed?" he suppressed his feelings automatically with humor, for he had not yet shared his internal struggle with her. The last time he had allowed her to have her say in the matter, he had given himself to her despite all of his brain's warnings. He had to be careful.
He extricated himself from her and went to her desk, filling a large glass with water. He sighed contentedly as the cool air from the still open doors to the balcony kissed his skin.
He smirked at her surprised face when she drained the glass he gave her in one long, satisfying drink.
"Have you had any water to drink this evening?" he asked as he offered her another filled glass.
She shook her head in response and took the refilled glass. She drank half of it and handed it back to him. He finished the remainder and placed the glass back on her desk before closing the doors to the balcony.
She had crawled up to her spot on the bed and flopped down onto her back, still above the covers. She gazed at him, glowing, and beckoned with a finger.
He smiled and obliged, lying down beside her. She snuggled up against him, burying her face in his chest and breathed his scent deeply, sighing in contentment. He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her closer to him.
"You are always showing me such new and wonderful things." She said it so sincerely and softly that he laughed out loud, kissing her forehead. He said nothing, for fear his worry would register in his voice, and he wanted to simply enjoy being next to her.
"Everything's all…" she started,... "spinny" she finished lamely, unable to find a more adequate word. He shook his head slightly, and tightened his arms around her briefly in a wordless response.
He let his mind wander yet again as he held her in his arms. After a while, he felt her body relax and her breathing alter as the drink and exhaustion overtook her, bringing her into sleep's embrace.
She awoke as he started to disentangle himself from her grasp, but was only able to utter a vague noise of protestation as she pulled him tighter to her. He shushed her.
"I will be back." Her grip didn't loosen. "Shhhh…I need to relieve myself." She released him reluctantly then, her arm dropping limply to the bed as he scooted backwards from underneath it.
When he returned, he was amused to she was in the exact same position, lying on her side with her hand extended over where his form was a few minutes before. He finagled the covers out from under her and crawled in beside her before covering them both in the soft blankets. She snuggled against him in her sleep and he smiled as he buried his face in her red hair.
Whatever the future held, he would content himself with his selfish fantasies for one night, at least. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead as he closed his eyes. He let his mind wander as he waited for sleep to claim him.
Woo! Nice doozy of a chapter. :)
I recently replayed the Fade chapter and Solas's "Dying Alone" tugged the feels string hard. It had to be so hard for him to deny himself such a future and leave Lavellan. /sigh
After all…wolves love puppies. ^^
And here's a sneak peek at the chapter I'm working on. ;) Will hopefully provide some warm fuzzies and dramatic irony when I eventually finish it.