~Twelve~
"You want me to wear that?" Serana pointed at the garment in question with a vague look of terror in her eyes.
Felassan snickered, earning himself a glare from the silver-haired rogue.
The raven-colored gown draped on the dress form delicately, its silhouette hugging the curves of the stuffed apparatus tightly. It was beaded throughout in black shimmering accents that appeared silver when the light hit them just-so. The halter neckline wrapped around the neck of the dress form, leaving the shoulders bare. A long slit ran up the side to where the hip meets the thigh.
Serana shook her head, staring at the dress in strained fascination. "It is beautiful," she conceded, walking up to it and admiring it up close. "But, will everyone else be dressed like this?"
Josephine looked at her through discomfort ridden eyes. She cleared her throat, her gaze seeking out Leliana's pleadingly.
The bard stepped up beside the Inquisitor. "I am afraid no one else will be as exposed as you, should you choose to comply and wear this dress. It seems the Empress wants to send a message, although I am not sure what that might be."
Serana felt a hint anger slowly burning in the pit of stomach. "Because I'm Dalish? Is this some sort of effort to discredit my professional capacity?" She spat, eyeing the dress as though ready to tear it in two.
Leliana remained silent, her expression pensive as she ran her fingers along the side of the dress. "We can use this to our advantage." She chuckled at the elf's open glare. "The Empress, or whoever sent you this gown–because it is possible that she was truly not behind this– most likely expects you to react negatively. Perhaps. you march into the grand ballroom and make a scene, demanding the respect you deserve, or perhaps, you wear another garment, offending the Empress by rejecting her gift."
"If I wear it, I will be looked at as a savage, no matter how beautiful this gown is." Serana said, her gaze trained on the fine garment.
"Maybe," the Nightingale shrugged lightly, toying with the dress' slit. "But, I am sure the kind of head-turning you will provoke in this dress will quickly halt such comments. I suggest wearing it, although we will have to get creative with weapon placement, but the final decision is in your hands, Inquisitor. Bear in mind, the Empress has many enemies; this may be an attempt on their part to disrupt whatever goodwill there is between you and Celene. I will look into the matter." The bard walked out of the room, her footsteps barely audible on the smooth marble floor.
Josephine looked at Serana with a regretful smile. "I am sorry, Serana. I wish humans weren't always so malicious."
"It's not just a human affliction," Serana said, her voice distant. She would never be asked to humiliate herself in a world of her own people, and the thought of never knowing that kind of acceptance filled her with sorrow.
"Can you give us a moment?" Felassan asked, accompanying his request to the ambassador with a small nod.
Josephine nodded with a warm smile, taking her leave and closing the double doors behind her.
Serana sighed as she studied the dress, carefully removing it from the dress form. Her fingers traced along the sheer interior lining, examining it for any malicious tampering. She hated that she needed to be so suspicious of everyone and everything, but her life up to that point only seemed to validate the need for such measures. Finding nothing that concerned her, she began toying with the dress' clasps, deciding on the need to slip it on over her head, because there was no way to fit her legs and hips through the small opening at the halter neckline.
"What are you going to do?" he asked her, his voice breaking her out of her reverie.
She sighed, feeling overwhelmed by the whole ordeal. Grateful that she was able to show her emotions now that she was alone with Felassan, she peered at him through wild eyes. "I have no idea."
His eyes followed her as she paced back and forth in front of the bed. Approaching her, he gently grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her to look at him.
"Serana," he said, willing her to calm with his serene gaze. "Trust yourself to make the right choice. Don't let anyone cause you to doubt yourself, and most of all, know you are a remarkable woman, destined for great things."
"Whoa," she frowned. "Sounds like you're saying goodbye, and I don't like it."
He hugged her to him, playfully rocking her from side to side, loosening his grip at her teasing jab to his side.
"Only goodbye for now, little sister. Try to have fun at this ball, and remember to remain open to new allies and experiences."
"Ugh, good grief, Fel! Truly, are you planning on marching off to your death?" Serana said, all mirth gone from her eyes.
The mage's gaze mirrored hers, his heart unwilling to part with her, but even more reluctant to just leave her in tears. He smiled warmly at her, smoothing her soft hair away from her face. "We'll see each other again soon, little wolf. Really." He kissed her forehead softly, careful not to linger and rouse her suspicions once more. With a small nod and playful bow, he exited her room with a heavy heart.
The soft rustle of silk filled the room as a cool breeze gently lifted the room's curtains. The delicate fabrics shimmered in the ambient light, casting a glow across the chamber. As she laid the gown on the bed, a sudden whoosh cut through the air, accompanied by a sharp, swift movement. An arrow materialized, piercing the space between her and the large bed.
Startled, her eyes widened as she followed the trajectory of the arrow. It had sailed through an open window, embedding itself in the wall. Suspended between the arrowhead and the elegant fabric, a note fluttered like a secret carried on the wind.
Instinctively, she moved closer, examining the note with a mixture of caution and intrigue. Unfurling the note, she read its contents with a furrowed brow.
"They wish to shame you for what you are. The very essence of Celene's court is wickedness and deception. Wear the dress. Show them we are defiant in the face of ignorance, for our strength comes from the Elvhen who carved this world into existence. We shall meet soon. - B"
A surge of curiosity mixed with a hint of excitement coursed through Serana. As she pondered the cryptic message, a determination settled within her.
Solas entered the room, his eyes brightening as they settled on her. Her presence seemed to illuminate the space, and he couldn't help but be drawn to her. With a natural grace, he approached, his every movement reflecting the depth of his affection.
Without a word, he enfolded Serana in a tight embrace, savoring the warmth of her presence. His senses drank in the scent that was uniquely hers, and his gaze, filled with a tender intensity, studied her face. There was a worry etched in the lines of her expression, and Solas sought to understand the source.
Gently, he pulled back, keeping her within the circle of his arms. His thumb traced a soft path along her cheek, a gesture meant to soothe and reassure. "Vhenan, what troubles you?" he inquired, his voice a gentle murmur.
Serana hesitated for a moment before voicing her concerns about the dress and Felassan, her worry etched on her face. She felt he might be in trouble but was reluctant to share the details. Solas listened attentively, his eyes withholding his own concern for the dreamer mage.
"Felassan can take care of himself," he reassured her, his voice carrying a quiet confidence. "He's resourceful and has navigated the intrigues of this world far longer than many realize. Trust in his abilities, just as I trust in yours."
Her eyes, still clouded with concern, met his. He saw the flicker of doubt and worry in her gaze, and he knew that sometimes words alone were not enough. With a subtle shift in the conversation, he decided to lighten the mood.
"Speaking of trust," Solas said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "you mentioned something about a dress?" His gaze dipped down to the fabric she held, and he openly leered, a playful smirk playing on his lips.
Serana's cheeks flushed with a delicate hue as she presented the dress to him. His eyes sparkled with anticipation, and he couldn't resist the urge to tease. "Well, my dear, don't keep me in suspense. Try it on. I would love to see the elegance it promises, draped over you." His words held both admiration and a playful hint, inviting her to indulge in a moment of shared delight. He sighed, "I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events."
"Do you? I didn't realize you regularly liaised with royalty," she teased through narrowed eyes, feeling a hint of suspicion in the recesses of her mind.
"Well, no…" he began, his brow furrowed.
"Hmm," she hummed, interrupting him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "If I'm to try this on, I think I might need some help undressing first."
"Indeed," he murmured, kissing her neck softly, his hands pulling up her shirt at the waist.
The touch of his fingers on her bare skin sent shivers down her spine, and she giggled when he buried his face in the nape of her nape, inhaling deeply.
"I'll never get tired of how your touch makes me feel," she moaned as his hands continued roaming the curves of her body, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
"Nor I," he said, his voice thick with passion for the beautiful woman in his arms. He felt like the luckiest fool in all of Thedas. In fact, he was certain he was, because in her, he was finding a peace that he dared not think of ever attaining after all he had been through… after all he had done.
He slipped her shirt off from around her head, sighing at the way her hair fell around her shoulders and breasts in smooth, white waves. Brushing her hair back, he admired her supple breasts, cupping them in his hands before bending to nip at a raised pink bud.
The way she moaned and leaned into his body intensified his already insatiable hunger for her. Summoning the remnants of patience left within him in that moment, Solas carefully removed the rest of her clothes and guided her back onto the bed. The sight of her bare body beneath him filled him with a wave of emotion, a tender affection and love for the gentle spirit she possessed, accompanied by a wave of desire that threatened to consume him whole.
She spread her legs apart, her soft wet heat glistening in the dimly lit room.
"Clothes." she growled. "Off. Now."
"Ma nuvenin, vhenan," he said with a low voice, quickly but gracefully disrobing.
He stood naked before her, and she bit her bottom lip as her eyes raked over his lithe figure; the smooth definition of taut sinewy muscles, covered by fair skin otherwise flawless, but for the fading burn scars that ran the length of his arm to his chest.
Her eyes continued traveling down the length of his body, her breath catching at the sight of his erection, eagerly at attention between her legs. She could feel the heat of his body radiating onto hers, and she hissed in pleasure when he ran the tip of his warm length up and down her slick folds. She moaned wantonly, falling back onto the bed and closing her eyes in bliss.
Solas hooked his arms under her knees, pulling her hips down to meet his. A growl rumbled in his chest as he entered her warmth, reveling in the way her walls embraced him tightly. Her soft mewls and panting as his hips thrust into her steadily threatened to overtake him, and he slowed his movements in an effort to prolong their pleasure.
Serana groaned in frustration, her eyes meeting his gaze with an intense heat. "Solas…"
Her groan was quickly replaced with a moan as he retreated from her and covered her slick wetness with his warm mouth. His tongue ushered her into a forceful climax that tore through her with a surprising ferocity. Her legs quivered on either side of his head, while his hands held her hips down firmly. He lapped at her unrelentingly, greedily consuming the evidence of her heightened arousal.
She watched him through hooded eyes as he crawled his way up her body, his lips glistening in the ambient candlelight. She felt another shiver run through her as his lips brushed against her ear; his warm breath against her neck, and the feel of him entering her, eliciting a strangled moan from her parted lips.
Solas captured her mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue and teeth claiming her, marking her as his own as he pumped his desire into her with a slowly burning passion.
Serana could feel another peak approaching, a torrent of rapture washing over her in waves. Solas' quickened thrusts and grunts signaled to her that he was close, as well, and she clenched her walls around him firmly, welcoming the hot ardor of his desire as he spilled into her; their euphoric cries a harmony that reverberated off the stone walls around them.
Laying blissfully in each other's arms, they shared a tender look, unspoken words flitting between them in the charged air. Serana traced the lines of his face with her eyes, feeling the depth of her emotion for him matched in his intense gaze.
"I wish to share it all with you," he whispered, tenderly brushing errant strands of hair from her cheek. "I wish to explore all that was lost with you by my side."
Serana felt her heart beating with delight, a serene sense of peace washing over her, as though all was as it should be.
She pulled him in for a soft kiss, while his hand reached down and pulled the thick covers up over their chilled bodies.
"The dress!" Serana gasped, making for the garment as it slowly slipped off the edge of the bed.
Solas held her to him, his face nuzzling her neck playfully. "I don't want to leave this bed for anything in the world tonight."
"Me neither," she sighed into his chest. Feeling the pull of sleep come for her, she closed her eyes and relished in the peace and safety she felt in his warm embrace. Intrusive thoughts about the events of the day filled her sleepy mind, and she sighed deeply at the annoyance it roused in her.
Setting aside any concerns about potential threats, or the safety of her well-traveled mentor, she decided to heed the mysterious messenger's advice. With a fixed internal resolution, she thought of the black gown, appreciating the significance it now held. The arrow, a harbinger of a clandestine rendezvous, would not deter her from facing the intrigues of the Winter Palace. Instead, she saw it as an invitation to confront the court with both elegance and a silent rebellion against those who sought to shame her heritage.
The ethereal landscape of the Fade stretched out before Serana as she traversed its dreamlike realms. A subtle sense of alarm tugged at her, guiding her toward an unseen destination. Her somniari training enabled her to move with a silent grace, her form hidden from the inhabitants of the Fade as she navigated its intricate pathways.
Eventually, she found herself in what resembled an underground cavern, the air thick with a surreal energy. As she approached, her senses sharpened, and she recognized two figures engaged in hushed conversation. Felassan, ever familiar, knelt before a hooded figure whose presence sent shivers down her spine.
Concealed by the shadows, Serana observed the scene unfold. The hooded figure's words were indecipherable, a haunting murmur that echoed in the cavernous space. The air crackled with a charged tension, and dread coiled within her as she witnessed the menacing body language of the towering figure looming over Felassan.
Though the specifics eluded her, the atmosphere conveyed a sense of foreboding. Serana's heart quickened, the weight of the encounter pressing upon her. She watched with a silent intensity, her instincts urging her to remain concealed as the enigmatic conversation between her dear friend and the hooded figure unfolded in the mysterious depths of the magic infused realm.
Felassan's voice carried through the otherworldly cavern, its echo resonating with a mixture of conviction and pleading. As he spoke, his gaze remained averted, a sign of deference or perhaps an attempt to shield himself from the hooded figure's imposing presence.
"They deserve a chance. If you go through with this, you will lose her..." Felassan's words hung in the air, and Serana strained to catch every nuance of the conversation. The significance of 'they' and 'her' sparked questions in her mind, but the enigmatic exchange offered little clarity.
The hooded figure, a silent and mysterious sentinel, loomed over Felassan, the weight of his authority palpable in the Fade's surreal atmosphere. Serana's intuition told her that the outcome of this encounter held consequences, not only for Felassan but potentially for herself and those she cared about.
As the conversation continued, she remained hidden in the shadows, a silent witness to the unfolding drama within the dreamlike realm of the Fade. The hooded figure balled up a fist, a glowing energy enveloping it, and Serana felt a flush of energy that exploded from her hands as she reached out, screaming, "NO!"
The cavern trembled with the unleashed power as her raw elemental magic struck the hooded figure squarely in the chest. The surge of energy seared through his robes, leaving behind the acrid scent of burnt fabric and singed flesh. The hooded figure convulsed, clawing at the air in a desperate attempt to escape the force that had assailed him.
In the aftermath of the explosive outburst, the oppressive tension that had gripped the cavern began to dissipate. The veiled figure, gasping for breath, vanished from their presence, leaving only the lingering echoes of his mysterious presence.
As the air settled, Serana sprinted toward Felassan, her hands still pulsating with residual energy. She found him on his knees, the aftermath of the confrontation etched across his face. Cradling his face in her hands, she checked him for injuries, concern etched on her features.
"Fel, are you alright?" Her voice carried a mixture of worry and relief as she scanned his form for any signs of harm. The cavern, now devoid of the hooded figure's ominous presence, felt both eerily quiet and pregnant with the weight of unspoken revelations.
The cavern's echoes seemed to amplify the bewildered silence that followed Serana's impulsive outburst. Felassan, his eyes reflecting a mix of shock and confusion, stared at her as if struggling to comprehend the extraordinary display of magic she had just unleashed. His gaze, initially filled with concern for her well-being, gradually transformed into an expression of fear and dread.
His voice trembled as he whispered, "What have you done?" His words hung heavy in the air, carrying an undertone of fear and apprehension. He repeated the question like a mantra, expressing both disbelief and dread at the repercussions that might follow.
Lost in the intensity of the moment, Serana's hands trembled, and her breaths came in erratic bursts. Without words, she leaned down to embrace him, seeking solace in their shared history. Yet, Felassan's repeated whispers of "What have you done? He will come for you" lingered in the air like an ominous prophecy.
Her heart pounding, she finally found her voice, desperate for answers. "Who? Who will come for me? Who was that?" The urgency in her tone betrayed the fear that now gripped her.
"Fen'Harel. The Dread Wolf," Felassan replied, his voice a solemn acknowledgment of the impending storm that seemed to gather on the horizon of their dreamscape. The revelation hung heavy in the air, leaving Serana to grapple with the realization that her impulsive act had drawn the attention of one of the most enigmatic and powerful beings of the Elvhen.
Serana's heart raced as she found herself abruptly torn from the surreal dreamscape and thrust back into the cold reality of the Winter Palace's bedroom. The sweat-soaked sheets clung to her, and a quick scan of the room revealed Solas on the floor, groaning and disoriented. Panic gripped her as she rushed to his side, her hands reaching out to cradle him.
"Solas, what happened? Are you alright?" Her voice trembled with concern, her hands gently moving his away from his chest. The sight that met her eyes sent a shiver down her spine — a large burn, like a brand, stamped on his chest. Confusion and realization clashed in her mind, the pieces of a puzzle falling into place.
Images of the hooded figure in Skyhold, the glow in his eyes mirroring those she had seen in private moments with Solas, and the same figure standing over Felassan flashed before her. Her blast of magical energy, intended to protect Felassan, was aimed directly at the hooded figure's chest.
Serana's grip on him tightened, her mind swirling with a mix of emotions — shock, fear, and a growing understanding of the tangled web she found herself in. Unsure of how to help him or what to say, she looked into his eyes, searching for answers, even as the weight of the revelations settled heavily upon them both.
Solas looked up at her, his eyes reflecting a tumultuous blend of vulnerability, regret, and a depth of emotion that transcended mere words. The glow of the Fade-marked burn on his chest cast an ethereal light on his features, and in that moment of shared revelation, he met Serana's gaze with a silent plea. It was a gaze that sought understanding, a connection amid the complexities of their journey thus far. The weight of unspoken truths hung heavy in the air as they laid there, both afraid to break the silence that enveloped them.