It was funny, she had never thought to ask Solas if he could ride, and yet she was not at all surprised to find him so skilled at it. Then again, she supposed she wouldn't be surprised to find him experienced at anything. He could list the intricacies of breeding dragons and she wouldn't at all be fazed by his vast knowledge of it.
Still, it was almost…pleasing to see how naturally he held the reigns, hear the effortless 'Hyah' from his lips, and feel the beast beneath them respond in kind.
She was thankful that a Hart ride was much smoother than a horse for they had set off at a brisk pace. Solas had them heralding across the Plains, the Hart giving a near trumpet call of a noise as they made their way North.
Ellana also wasn't surprised that he seemed to need no directions.
The wind blew at her hair and her hands were playing a constant game of catch to keep it away from his face, praying quietly he wasn't bothered by it or her incessant moving. If he ever was, he said nothing.
Between that and trying to ignore the endless friction of his body on her back, the ride was a little more stressful than she imagined it would be.
She had thought to maybe make conversation, but it would be uncomfortable do so for all the problems of riding, not to mention the loudness of the storming hooves.
It wasn't until the expanse of the plains soon grew heavier with forest and the hills turned into larger crevices full of shrubberies that they began to slow.
Her shoulders finally eased as they came to a trot but the Hart seemed to protest, rearing its large and heavy head backward.
"Whoah—easy now."
Ellana shivered and the Hart relaxed.
"I might have gotten our friend a little too excited." Solas spoke and though she couldn't see him, she could imagine the amusement on his face.
"You'll get anyone that excited with how fast you were spurring us." She admonished.
He laughed, full and loud, before quickly trying to curb it. She could hear him shut his mouth, the chuckles muffled but still audible.
"I apologize. I thought only to save time—we will not be able to run that quickly through the forest and there will be much of it towards the capitol."
She nodded, not realizing he might not see it. They lapsed into a content silence as they eased into thicker foliage. The sun was arching past its climax in the sky, sending hot gold through the trees onto them.
While not happy with the situation, she had to admit that it was nice to leave the horrid view that was the Dirth. They had only been riding for so long now and already the sights were much greener and fuller with life.
She tilted her head up to look at the tops of the trees, only to bump her head on Solas' chin.
"Sorry—"
"Apologies."
They went quiet again.
Biting her lip, she decided against letting the strange nervousness overtake her. This was only Solas, after all. Only.
"May I ask you—"
"How is your—"
They both stopped, effectively cutting each other off. She smiled widely and twisted in the saddle to show him her grin.
Solas looked back at her with a gleam in his pale eyes, and oh—he was very close, wasn't he?
"Have something on your mind, hahren?"
"Only while you do, da'len."
She laughed noisily at him; turning forward once more and finally letting her back ease fully against him. The relaxation of her muscles seemed to have a similar effect on him and they both lost the unspoken tension to rest easily against each other.
"You were going to ask me if you could ask me something, weren't you?" He insisted, his voice somewhere right above the top of her head. She chuckled again, enjoying the feel of his arms resting lazily along hers, fingers only barely touching the leather of the reigns.
"Perhaps."
"Well then you may."
"I was only going to ask if you had been through this way before."
He gave a short breath of an answer. "Yes, I have."
"What for?"
He was quiet but she felt him shrug. "For the act of it. You know I journey across Thedas for the simple intent to do so."
She thought about that. It was always something she had known. A wandering man looking for nothing but knowledge and no ties to bind him to any one place... But perhaps she had not considered the weight of that lifestyle. He would have time for… everything. And if it was true that he had lived this way since he was very young… then he would have scoured so many places already.
"Have we been anywhere you haven't been before yet?" she asked almost dubiously.
The smile was in his voice. "Ah, well let's see…"
She waited patiently, eyes trailing over trees and branches. He seemed to just be letting the Hart have its way with direction for now. Maybe it was a way to just let the creature rest for some time without losing any progress.
His finger tapped idly at her side and the action got her staring at his hands.
"I cannot say I have ever had the pleasure of visiting the Fallow Mire before joining the Inquisition."
"Oh! What an honor!" She joked, leaning her head back boldly on his shoulder to get a better look into his face.
Solas directed his thoughtful look down at her. "While I can't say it was my favorite place to visit, at least I can say I have been there now."
His shoulder shifted to cradle her a bit more comfortably and for a moment Ellana considered moving away. It wasn't exactly… appropriate (probably more so given her recent thoughtful dalliances about him.) But resting against him seemed natural when sharing the Hart, and the path was uneven, their balance better together as they ambled along.
And Solas did not seem to mind.
So she bit back her blush and stared ahead at the deepening trees. "You were going to ask me something?" Her spine melted against his chest, neck elongated to place her head heavily on his shoulder.
"I…" His voice trailed. She turned, eyes finding him staring at her with a blank expression. Somewhere near her wrist, his fingers scraped against her skin. She blinked slowly at him, waiting. Did he forget?
"I had meant to ask about your leg."
Ellana glanced down at it. "Oh. Fine I suppose. I still can't feel it."
His brows creased into a frown.
"Is that bad?"
"It is from the loss of blood. I would bet that once you start to feel it again, it won't be a pleasant sensation." As they both stared down at her wrapped up splinted leg his own came behind hers, leaving the stirrup to prop her foot along his. "You should keep it steady and let me know if it starts to ache."
"Have you broken bones before?" The question came unbidden from her lips and she was happy to see him smile at her knowingly.
"Many. Life as an apostate can be treacherous."
"What have you broken?"
He looked at her curiously, as if surprised to hear her eagerness to learn of him. "Fingers, arms, a knee… my nose once."
"Your nose?" She questioned, twisting a little to look up at the mentioned appendage as if to inspect it and see the evidence of the break. He chuckled down at her, eyes steady on the path before them, allowing her to take in the strong silhouette of his profile.
This close she could smell the strong musk of him, cloves, wax, and the overbearing scent of elfroot that no doubt came from his tending to her leg.
"What sort of dreaming are you doing that would cause you to break so many bones?"
"Not in the Fade, da'len!" He chided, his fingers jumping across her arm to squeeze her in an almost ticklish manner. She tensed against him with a laugh before relaxing once more. "Injuries like that only come from recklessness here in the living world."
"Yes, Solas, but how?"
He glanced down at her then, an almost impish grin spreading across his smooth mouth. "I got into a tussle."
"A tussle?" Her voice dipped a bit skeptically.
"Hm. At a tavern."
She waited, but after no further explanation her eyes narrowed at him with a wry smile. "You got into a bar fight?"
"Some… humans were making an argument I did not agree with. And the night had been tense already… and loose with inhibition."
Ellana snorted through his carefully chosen words.
"You were drunk?"
"I was young."
They both chuckled then, enjoying the warmth and ease of the conversation. The day was turning into evening with a threatening sunset and Ellana took the moment to enjoy the sight of it and the heavy weight that was his palm buried into the crook of her elbow.
She wanted to ask him the details. Or perhaps get him to tell her what happened to his fingers, or his knee. Would he have set them himself? All alone tending to broken bones in a tent or cave somewhere? Her thorough imagination pictured him in the rain, trying to wrap a splint along his knee. With no one else to help – how would one get from one place to another while they waited for it to heal? Cook or eat?
Ellana was used to rampant questions darting through her mind and while she entertained them with possible answers, she was a little too nervous to ask them aloud.
Solas had not yet spurned any of her inquiries since they had met. In fact, he had quite encouraged them. Often times she found herself near interrogating him and the extent of his knowledge. Without someone telling her 'now isn't the time,' or 'that's not something you should ask,' she found that she was wild with her rambling.
Solas had been utterly patient with her. But she wondered if that was his ample kindness.
Surely he grew tired of it as did most? Most of her questions were inane.
So she kept silent, trying to imagine what his explanations might be.
"It is quiet for a forest." His voice murmured, and the heat of his breath told her his mouth was close to the shell of her ear.
She listened with him, the absence of wind making the crunch of leaves and underbrush loud beneath the hooves of the Hart. There was only the distant echo of birds, light chirps and short calls.
"Where are we exactly?"
"Judging by the distance we crossed and the terrain, we are just outside Montismmard now. It will be a few hours before we pass the city and the Imperial Highway beyond it."
"Will we not take the highway around to the capitol?" She questioned.
"With the Freemen warring with Gaspard and Celene's forces – I can only imagine how battles to control the Highway will look like. Not to mention it will simply be faster to cut straight through the Heartlands to cross the bridge."
"You think there will be that much fighting in a city like Montismmard?"
"It is a strategic area of defense. Were I a general, I would see it as an opportunity. And were I someone on an opposing side I would risk war in a city to take control over routes for trade and soldiers." He looked older then, very much an experienced and revered hahren. The statement reminded her of the words exchanged between him and Blackwall. War, battle. He had been a soldier… of some kind before.
Her lips pursed. She wanted to ask, desperately she did. Because what sort of Elvhen apostate was a soldier? He was no Dalish protector and never had he been in a Circle (or had he?). Would he have fought in the battles between Gaspard and Celene?
No—he had no stake in the matter currently. And when she had asked his opinion on the state of Orlais he could not have seen more indifferent altogether.
So what then? Mere memories he had stolen from battles remembered in the Fade? It couldn't be. Even now his eyes seemed distant and occupied as they considered the forest before them. He must have lived some of it.
Solas must have felt her watching him, because he looked down at her resting on his shoulder with a slightly raised brow.
"Inquisitor?"
"Where were you during the Blight?"
His pupils dilated, she could see the black circles twist in size in the ice that was his eyes. A light tinge of confusion colored his face before his lips curled in an almost forced smile.
"What a question!" He exclaimed, dragging up her embarrassment. She turned away from him, hands grasping her face and mouth. Did she have no filter?
"Sorry! I just—"
"Far, da'len, I was very far north when word came out about the Blight."
She sighed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, my mind gets away from me and I…"
"Not at all." He reassured, his fingers squeezing at her arm. She settled again, turning to stop her absent staring at him. 'Just leave him alone.' She berated herself even as her mind buzzed with new questions. North as in, near Tevinter? Or farther? What was it like that high above Thedas? Colder or hotter? Did he see any refugees or darkspawn that far?
She shook away the curiosities, focusing instead on the feel of him along her. It wasn't had, as it had been subconsciously distracting the entire time.
A thumb rolled across her sleeve and Ellana watched in fascination as his fingers lightly caressed the crook of her arm. Her eyes flickered secretly up at his face, but he seemed preoccupied, his expression straight and his eyes forward.
She tried not to smile, though it was hard. The most likely thoughtless gesture was touching, even if only a sign of their friendliness with each other.
The trek was slow and steady, shadows of trees dancing across them and the golden sun dying into coming hues of blue. The Hart would make noise at times, snuffling and scuffing. A soothing sound that had her eyes dropping low to listen to the softness of everything.
After some time her hips began to ache a little from being saddled for so long, but it wasn't persistent and the small discomfort could not compete against the persuasive warmth that was Solas' shoulder, or the feel of his thumb rubbing her arm back and forth.
At some point, her hand came up to steal his.
Her hazy mind was drifting, but she longed to feel the caress on her skin, so her fingers met his, stilling them from their movements so she could entangle them together.
She heard a distant catch of breath above her, but ignored it. Grabbing his fingers sent clenching heat and tingling nerves through her cheeks and into her stomach. She stared at her fingers pulling at his, determined to measure his long ones against her short ones.
His hand didn't move. He had gone limp, allowing her to spread his fingers and twist his hands.
She pressed her nails into his palm, felt his calluses, and rapt her knuckles on his nails.
Ellana lost herself in the sensation, even as her leg began to throb. Her eyes shut gently as her consciousness sank and after a bit more, she released him.
But he followed her almost immediately.
Solas entangled his fingers in hers and rubbed his thumb on her palm insistently, seemingly determined to pay back the favor or beg her back to the action.
She kept her eyes closed, but a smile broke secretly on her face.
Solas hadn't known she had fallen asleep until they left the borders of Montismmard.
The sun had long died, and insects replaced birds for ambiance.
His mind had been elsewhere; half in memory and half in the sensation of skin against skin.
It was when he had been contemplating making camp that he realized the weight of her head rolled on his clavicle, and her even breathing pushed like waves against his heart. At first his worry escalated and he went to wake her, to keep her from succumbing to the blood loss. The threat of the metal in her veins and the pain she would no doubt feel in these coming days were a ticking itch in the back of his mind.
But he knew the exhaustion of such an ordeal too. He let her sleep, knowing that he would be there to correct anything that should go wrong.
He had followed the terrain as it dipped low, tracked the trickling promises of water along the ground to the quaintest of creeks. He knew them well past the Highway now, having taken shortcuts to avoid the public road. And when he had found a good a place as any to camp, a little outcropping of thick lush grass by the creek, he stopped their Hart and contemplated.
Ellana was still, a quiet sleeper, her fingers curled neatly in the center of his palm.
Solas looked down at her, only able to see the downward sweep of her lashes and the curve of her cheek. Her vallaslin peeked up at him too, a taunt that the ink that marred her skin always had the privilege to do so.
Her pointed ear was close enough to his mouth to kiss.
He dipped low as if to do just that, arms pulling her just a little tighter against his body.
'Sweet surrender, indeed.' He thought, remembering Cole's words.
And he could think of more words too, without the help of a spirit. Seduction, swift and sudden and solid. Here and now and not in a dream, but real and ready.
He closed his eyes as his nose touched the softness of her hair and he breathed.
Blue eyes opened once more, his arms rising to grasp her shoulders. His head tilted, jaw tight as he whispered kindly.
"Ellana."
His hand was cold without hers now, but he ignored the feeling to smile sadly instead at the hitch in her breath and the hesitation in her eyelids.
"Ellana, wake a little now, lethellan."
"Solas?" Her voice was heavy with sleep and confusion. She tried to seek him out, hands smacking her own arms.
"Yes, Solas." He confirmed, chuckling. "Will you be able to sit up alone?"
When her eyes flickered open her head bobbed in confirmation. She babbled, trying to appear not asleep. "Yes, what is it? I'm here. Yes—Agreed."
His hands gripped her shoulders to keep her steady as he rocked with contained laughter.
"Solas? Y-you needed something?" Her voice was a near drawl and though he couldn't see her face he didn't doubt her eyes were still closed. She stiffened, head jerking in an odd fashion. "I'm awake—yes—continue."
He shook his head at her from behind, his chest tight with ignored adoration.
He leaned in again, whispering hotly in her ear, unable to help himself. "Keep yourself up, Ellana."
She gasped.
And with that he crossed his leg over, hefting himself out of the saddle.
"Solas?"
He watched her sway a little, those delicate eyes blinking rapidly to try and wake herself up.
"Wait for me a moment." He spoke, patting her thigh. He began unwrapping the ties to their packs.
The Hart was patient, for which he was thankful, as Ellana seemed anything but, her head lolling on her neck in panful fashions. He imagined she would be up and in much discomfort soon. With feeling back in her leg she would bear the full force of the growing pains mending in her shin bone.
He made quick work of their packs, experienced in traveling just like this, making sure to set up one of the bedrolls right away. They would not need tents this night, but she would need sleep and somewhere to sit if she could not walk on her own.
And finally, he circled the perimeter with a sweeping hand, flares of searing energy darting out to the corners of their little glen. Wards. The intelligent magic entangled itself in the air around him, familiar and reassuring.
Returning to the Hart's side, his hand graced the Inquisitor's knee, shaking it gently. "Ellana."
She was slouched heavily, eyes still fighting the sleep.
"I'm so sorry…" She near whispered. "I'm so…"
"I know. It was bound to happen after such a long day of pain and adrenaline."
She seemed to nod, and his arms rose to grasp her ribs, tugging at her. "Come, da'len."
At the insistence the leaned toward him, her hands finding purchase in the folds of his clothes. He took on the weight of her, sure to watch her splinted leg as he pulled her from the Hart.
The animal helped, walking forward to release her from its saddle and Solas hushed words at her quickly as he began to set her on the ground.
"Lift your leg Ellana, do not stand on it."
"Y-Yes."
He was as gentle as he could be, setting her down.
"AH!" She cried and he near cursed, her hands squeezing his shoulders as she leaned against him. What had he just said?
He shook his head at her, looking down to see the now popped up leg.
"I'm awake now." She muffled into his chest.
"I imagined so."
"I forgot."
"You did."
It wouldn't work this way. She was too tired, and he could already hear her yelps of pain should they attempt to hop her over to the bedroll. So without a word he bent low, arms enclosing around her waist and knees.
"No—What are you—"
She was light and willowy, just as he had always imagined.
"Solas?"
And then there she was.
The dark of the night wasn't harsh enough to cover the moon, and its light traced the curved of her cheek and the color of her eyes. Her fingers pulled on his tunic, riding the slope of his shoulders to his chest.
There was such curiosity in her eyes, such an innocent and honest language there. The want to know, the need for understanding, it was written there in the parting of her lips and the dip of her brows. The look was a bad one.
Worse.
Worse, it was directed at him.
"We will need to clean your leg of blood and apply new bandages to it." He declared to himself as much as to her.
He took them past their makeshift camp towards the creek, letting the sound of it distract his imagination to the weight of her in his arms and the trust in her hands.
When he had her settled neatly along the creek's edge he set to work on getting her leg free. He knelt at her side, fingers dancing across her skin. She insisted on helping at first, but he argued.
"You are far too preoccupied yawning your mind and body into the Fade to help."
Her face had turned red, hand pausing in mid cover of her yawn.
She watched him as he worked, her eyes lazy yet interested. She was reclined back on her elbows, hair askew from the Hart ride and sleeping against him. She almost looked as if she had been ravished and a heat curled inside him at the thought.
"How does it work exactly?"
He raised brows at her, an acknowledgment of her question and an encouragement to continue, while banishing his previous thoughts.
"Mending the bone with magic?"
"Explaining that process will surely send you to sleep."
"Pl-please." She asked, pausing to gasp at the cold of the water when he dipped her now-free leg in slowly. "I want to know."
He smiled fondly. "It's a matter of will as all magic is only our will's imprint upon reality."
His hand dipped into the cold water with her leg, the current pulling at the wet a dry patched of blood and whisking it away. "When you conjure fire with magic you do it by willing the memories of heat and warmth to your hands. If you can picture it clearly, you can make a perfect flame."
His hands scratched lightly at her skin, tensing her muscles. He pulled his fingers lower, passing over her ankle, the temptation to cradle her delicate foot too great to pass up the excuse. He memorized her impulsive smile and tickled laugh at his touch as he continued.
"It is the same for healing. Your body already wants to mend itself; you just need to help it remember the way it's supposed to feel."
"I'm supposed to remember how it feels to have a leg that isn't broken?" She asked skeptically, her smile wry.
"Therein lies the hard part for most mages." Solas agreed. His palm skimmed up her shin, grasping her there, he let the water finish its work, and then began seeping his will into her flesh.
"All I need to do is tell your body to act as it should, but giving it guidance. Thinking of how my own leg feels…my blood, my bones—and sharing those sensations with you." The light of his spell twisted faintly in the air like smoke and heat emanated from his fingers.
He took his time healing her, heating her. He made the muscles pliant and reactive, willing them to stitch. He chases away the inevitable pain by numbing her once more, all the while caressing her own magical aura with his.
He tried no to provoke the magic that surrounded her, but it was hard not to tease his mana on hers, if only a little.
"Of course, that is a simplified way to explain the theory. The process of actually weaving your muscles and bone back together is a bit more..."
When he glanced up her eyes were closed.
Solas continued without speaking, taking time to knit some of her skin together, mere increments. Anything more would be too fast. Trying to find any infection proved impossible though—too soon to tell. He took perhaps longer than he should have and even more time to dry her off and we-wrap her splint.
When he finished she was once again fully asleep.
He picked her up without protest, hushing her slight noises as he headed back to the bedroll.
She was set down as carefully as he could manage, her hair spilling out like colored water and he lips parting with a breath of comfort.
And there he was, kneeling above her, his fingers curled into the fabric of her tunic as if looking for directions to her skin. There in the night, in the quiet of the forest she was real in his arms, asleep, limp -defenseless. And she gave herself into the Fade knowing she could because he was there to take care of her.
What trust that was... He was almost floored.
How many times had he slept in the safety of isolation to visit spirits? The amount of times was vast but he didn't think he could ever do it in the presence of another. Not like this, not like she was.
And yet… he might be able to do it with her.
He took off her other shoe, unwrapped some of her armor, undid the latches of her extra layers and settled her in to sleep in the coverings of the cot. All the while trying to pretend that caring for someone else, watching out for them like he was now for the first time in perhaps ages, was not as natural as it felt.
Nor as desired as the tightness in his chest claimed it to be.
A/N: I am utterly determined not to describe my Lavellan as much as possible, so she might be any of your Lavellans. Unfortunately if you picked one of the bald ones your shit out of luck. She has at least enough hair to whip about. Sorry about the name - I tried it without a first name but it's just so formal, ugh.