~O~
They had just returned from their short stay in the Goblin Camp, and Arabella felt exhausted. Minthara was relentless in her quest for grove, and it took all of Arabella's willpower to block the True Soul's attempts to probe her mind. Arabella felt prepared to remove Minthara from the equation, but she knew she would need to take out all three leaders in one day in order to prevent the goblins from attacking the grove while she was away. Sighing, she pushed the thoughts aside, feeling drained by the never-ending flurry of enigmas thrown her way.
As Arabella made her way to Solas, witnessing his exchange with Withers, she couldn't help but notice the mage's tense facial expressions, his tone hushed as he spoke. Solas looked chagrined as he watched the ghoul walk away from him slowly.
She approached, clearing her throat so as to not surprise him. He looked down at her at when she stood next to him, a soft smile gracing his lips. "I am glad you came by to see me."
"Of course," she said, undoing her braid and running her fingers through her hair. She felt nervous, and it helped to keep her hands busy.
She couldn't help but recall the last time she was this close to him near his little nook in camp, a memory that painted her cheeks with embarrassment. That morning, she had been a whirlwind of emotions, her feelings laid bare in a moment of vulnerability that left her feeling exposed and foolish. The memory of her emotional disarray lingered, casting a shadow over her as she stood next to him. Despite her attraction to Solas, this memory served as a bittersweet reminder of her previous turmoil, and how he graced her with such kindness in one of her lowest moments since the nautiloid. Yet, standing beside him now, the warmth in his smile offered a kind of solace, though it also tightened her chest with a mix of hope and lingering insecurity.
They shared a brief moment of silence, their gazes filled with a myriad of emotions.
Arabella visibly swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, as she felt the weight of all she wanted to say press down heavily on her chest. "Solas, about the other morning, in the water—I want to apologize."
"Apologize?" he said with a genuine look of surprise.
"I feel like since we've started traveling together, I've just been piling my troubles onto you. My strange actions, this insatiable hunger, the compulsion to quench this inner darkness... I realize it's not fair to burden you with all of this. I feel undeserving of your kindness and patience–"
"Stop that," his eyes shone in the darkness around them, "Never diminish yourself like that before me again, lethallan."
Her brow arched in surprise, a small smile tugging at her lips as she took in the commanding sway of his tone.
"I may not understand all the facets of your dark urges, but I do understand the compulsion and sway of the darkness that lurks in each of us."
She scoffed lightly. "I doubt someone as good as you would understand the depravity lurking inside someone like me," she muttered. Her gaze fell to his chest, unable to meet the unwavering conviction in his eyes.
Her brow furrowed. "I don't know. Maybe it is a mercy to lose one's memories," she said, remembering Astarion's words. "I shudder to think of the nightmares skulking about in my memories," she murmured.
Solas sighed. "For all of the darkness you worry consumes you, you are nothing but a bright light in the midst of an overwhelming shadow." The gentle curve of a smile graced his lips as he looked down at her.
A tentative smile touched Arabella's lips, her gaze clouded briefly with uncertainty. She closed her eyes, silencing the doubt within that argued against his words. With a deep breath, she pushed away the doubting voices, choosing not to let her inner turmoil disturb this tranquil moment.
Whenever she looked in his eyes, she saw an unrecognizable version of herself, someone worthy of his affections, but she knew better than to entertain the thought. Daring to meet his gaze again, she saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes as he seemed to reach a decision.
Their eyes locked, conveying emotions too vast and tangled for words, a slow dance of desire, respect, and a kind of hunger that went beyond the physical. It was as if, in that brief exchange, they saw each other truly, without the masks and defenses that had guarded their true selves.
Arabella's heart quickened as the tension between them grew palpable, like a spark ready to ignite. A magnetic pull drew them closer, and without a word, they leaned in together, their lips meeting in a soft kiss that slowly deepened.
Solas pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. When she gave a small nod, he leaned in again, his lips claiming hers more urgently.
His hands slid down her back, his touch eliciting a shiver of pleasure. Arabella responded in kind, wrapping her arms around him, pressing herself against him. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips, seeking entry, and the sensation brought an answering moan from Solas. She laced her fingers in his hair as they kissed deeply, until it became almost unbearable to wait any longer. Their kiss ended with another soft peck, and they broke apart, breathing heavily.
Solas looked down at her with a searing look. She shivered under the weight of his gaze, feeling her loins pulse in want, but she stifled the whimper lodged in her throat when he stepped back, a small smile on his face.
"Come." He extended his hand out toward her. "Sit with me by the fire."
As they settled by the fire, its gentle glow casting a soft light around them, Solas turned to Arabella, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. He smiled, encouraged by her interest, and began to recount a memory from his past.
"You know, the moonlight on the water tonight reminds me of a story from my boyhood in Arlathan," Solas began, his gaze drifting to the flickering flames. "I knew a boy, Falon'Din, as cocky and prideful as they come."
Arabella leaned in, her smile broadening with curiosity.
"One evening, much like this, Falon'Din and I found ourselves by the edge of a vast, moonlit lake. In his typical brash manner, he challenged me to a race across the lake. He was confident of victory, to say the least."
"And let me guess, you accepted?" Arabella interjected, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"Indeed, I did," Solas replied with a chuckle. "But not without a plan. Falon'Din, for all his strength and speed, was easily blinded by his pride. So, as we set off across the lake, I used a bit of cunning."
He paused, the anticipation building.
"I led him to believe I was struggling, lagging behind. His focus shifted from the race to taunting me, not noticing the shallower path I had chosen. By the time he realized, I was already pulling ahead."
Arabella laughed, picturing the scene in her mind.
"Falon'Din's frustration was clear. When I reached the shore well before him, he was furious. Instead of conceding defeat gracefully, he stormed off, muttering curses under his breath."
Solas shook his head, his smile tender with the recollection.
"It was a lesson in humility for him, though he would never admit it. But for me, it was a reminder that wit often prevails over brute strength."
Arabella's laughter filled the air, mingling with the crackle of the fire.
"That's a clever trick, Solas. I'll have to remember not to challenge you to a race," she said, her grin reflecting the warmth of the fire and the joy of the shared moment.
When Arabella inquired about the fate of his friend, a shadow of sorrow crossed Solas' face. His voice, low and tinged with regret, broke the comfortable silence that had settled between them. "Falon'Din's vanity knew no bounds. His desire for adulation led him to wage wars, seeking to expand his following. The devastation he wrought was immense, leaving a trail of blood and sorrow. The gods were rallied, and we were forced to confront him, and it wasn't until he stood, wounded within the sanctum of his own temple, that he ceased his conquest."
"Temple? Gods?" Arabella echoed, her curiosity piqued as she pieced together the implications of his story. A spark of realization lit her eyes, and she ventured cautiously, "What are you, Solas?"
He offered her a warm, yet melancholic smile. Shaking his head gently, he replied, "I am but a man, Arabella. A man driven by a singular purpose—to reclaim the freedom and peace that rightfully belongs to my people." His gaze darkened with the weight of memories and unfulfilled dreams.
Arabella studied him, a frown of concern etching her features as she sensed the complexity of his identity and mission. She chose not to press further, recognizing the pain that lingered beneath his stoic exterior.
The conversation gradually waned, and a comfortable silence enveloped them once more. As the night deepened, her eyelids grew heavy with sleep. Solas grinned when he noticed her yawning quietly, and invited her to rest on his bedroll near the warmth of the fire. Grateful, she lay down and was swiftly embraced by sleep, her exhaustion from the day's events catching up with her.
He watched over her, a tender affection swelling in his heart at the sight of her peaceful slumber. He gently brushed a hand over her hair, a sigh escaping him as he thought about where his fate had brought him thus far. With a final glance at the night sky, he lay beside her, allowing the comfort of her presence to lull him into sleep.
~O~
Arabella slept fitfully, nightmares of past deeds looming large over her as she tried to crawl her way back to the waking world. She woke in a frenzy, hands clinging to her neck as her chest heaved. She closed her eyes, willing herself to calm, and felt the slow winding down of her accelerated heart beat. Sleeping peacefully beside her, Solas reached for her, his hand falling lightly on her thigh, its warmth seeping through the fabric of her trousers. She smiled down at him through the anxious fear coursing through her. Gently removing his hand and placing it gingerly by his side, she let herself admire his serene expression for a moment, before a strange prickling sensation began crawling all over her skin.
She rose carefully, not trusting her shaky legs to keep her upright. Fighting the urge to run, run fast and hard to get away from the sinking feeling in her gut, she wrapped her arms around herself. Folding into herself, she rode out the waves of shivers that wracked her body.
An eerily familiar voice rang out behind her, a crooning shrill that cut through the air with dreadful precision. The familiarity of it sent a ripple of fear through her, an instinctive recognition that something from the shadowed corners of her past had found its way to her present.
"Milady? Jubilant day! I have found your vile self at last!"
Arabella's breath caught in her throat as she slowly turned, almost unwillingly, to face the source of that haunting voice. As her gaze settled on the figure before her, her eyes widened in shock, not just at the sight of him but at the immediate and inexplicable knowledge of his name—Sceleritas Fel.
There he stood. The recognition was instantaneous, as if a part of her had always known he would reappear, yet she couldn't fathom how or why she knew him. His name resonated within her, a key unlocking memories she wasn't sure were hers, filling her with a sense of dread and twisted pleasure.
Despite the fear that clenched at her heart, she found herself rooted to the spot, staring at the creature with a mixture of horror and fascination. He continued speaking to her, but she could hear little over the deafening pulse in her ears. The pulsing abruptly stopped, and she locked eyes with the hunched and ghoulish creature.
"Anyways, I come once again bearing a part of your dreadful inheritance," he announced, his voice taking on a ceremonious tone as he extended a hand towards her.
The air around his hand shimmered, and with a flourish of red magic that seemed to weave the fabric of reality itself, a crimson cloak materialized, neatly folded, in his palm. The cloak, rich in color, emanated a faint, otherworldly power; seemingly pulsing with a life of its own.
"And... this," he continued, his voice dropping as he extended his other hand. Within his clawed grip, a black sphere hovered, too big to fit in the palm of his hand; its surface so deeply dark that it appeared to absorb the light around it.
She took the items from Sceleritas gingerly, holding them close to her chest.
"Be true to yourself, Milady." With a bow, he gave her a wicked smile and vanished into the ether. Collapsing to her knees in the sand, she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, before her head jerked up suddenly at the sound of Solas stirring.
"Arabella," he called out to her groggily.
Solas wiped at his face, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes settled on her. A small smile rested on his full lips, a serene expression on his face that quickly died when he saw what she held in her arms.
The sudden shift in his demeanor was palpable, the tranquility of his awakening replaced by a sharp intensity that buzzed within him. His posture stiffened, a visible tension taking hold as the implications of Arabella's possession became clear.
"Arabella, where did you get that?" His voice was steady but carried an undercurrent of urgency, a rare note of vulnerability piercing through his usual composure.
The sight of Solas, so suddenly stripped of his calm facade, gave her a moment of pause before she let out a nervous chuckle, bordering on hysteria. "My butler," she breathed, a small cackle punctuating those two simple words.
"Sceleritas?" he asked incredulously.
Arabella frowned at the name, and tilted her head as she looked at him through stormy eyes. "You know him?" her tone held a menacing edge. She stood, gathering the cloak tighter to her chest with one hand, the orb hanging at her side.
"Not really," he began, flustered and impatient as he eyed his prized possession in her hand. He rose to meet her, approaching her slowly. He looked hurt as she recoiled from his touch when he reached for her.
She pressed the orb into his chest forcefully, the loud thud of the smooth sphere against his thin tunic echoing in the quietness of the camp. Solas' brow furrowed deeply, and he shook his head before breaking the brief silence between them.
"Ara–"
"Don't," she spat, her menacing glare now tinged with hurt. "You know more about me than you're letting on. You knew about that thing that came here tonight. And you said nothing!" Her chest heaved as she looked at him with a pained expression, her eyes brimming with tears.
Solas felt a twinge of anxiety in his chest, and he swallowed dryly as his mind raced to form words, but he found himself frozen.
"Fucking say something!" she yelled, tears now streaming down her cheeks.
"I do not know any more than you do, and I would not lie to you," he said, his voice unexpectedly taking on a steely edge.
Arabella scoffed at his tone, a sudden urge to grab the orb and smash it into his face repeatedly seizing her with reckless force. She gasped at the intensity of her sudden anger, shaking her head, before growling into the cloak in her hands. Turning on her heel, she stalked away from him and toward her tent, her footfalls heavy with the weight of her ire.
Solas stood fixed in place. He felt blindsided by a barrage of emotions he couldn't readily identify, yet one seemed more pronounced than the others– indignation. The wrath she directed at him took him by surprise, and even though he knew that her anger was misplaced, he still felt angry; angry that she would doubt his honesty, after all his efforts to be forthcoming with her from the very beginning.
His visage was marred with a dark scowl as the orb began thrumming in his grip. He looked down at it and felt the pang of longing for his home grip him tightly. Eyes aglow in a soft-white hue, he lifted the orb near his face, turning it in his hand as he examined it. A half-smile formed on his lips as the power residing in the orb slowly seeped into its true domain, tendrils of magic wrapping itself around his forearm, following the path up to his heart. He gasped at the euphoric feeling settling in his chest, a piece of the dreaded wolf within him restored. Off in the distance, a long and ominous howl pierced through the night, and Solas laughed dryly to himself before his gaze landed on Arabella's tent.
He turned and walked toward his tent, his heart gripped with a heavy weariness as he entered, the fabric flaps falling shut behind him. The interior, lit by a single, flickering candle, cast long shadows across his face, accentuating the lines of fatigue and determination etched deep within his skin. He placed the orb carefully on a small, makeshift table, its light dimming as if in respect to the solemn atmosphere of the tent. Solas sank onto his bedroll, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The magic from the orb had rejuvenated a part of him long thought lost, yet the weight of his decisions, and the path he had been planted on, lay heavily upon his shoulders.
The howl in the distance, a reminder of the wild and untamed power he now held sway over, also echoed the loneliness and isolation of his journey. Arabella's presence, a mere stone's throw away, embodied a connection he yearned for yet feared he would never be able to fully embrace. The conflict within him grew; a battle between his true nature and the desires of his heart.
He leaned back, closing his eyes, allowing the magic's residual warmth to envelop him. In this moment of solitude, the lines between man and beast, duty and desire, blurred. Yet, he thought wryly, he had no idea what would become of him once this was all over.
The candle flickered one last time before succumbing to the darkness, leaving Solas in contemplation, the only sound the steady breathing of a man standing at the crossroads with an alien parasite taking refuge in his brain.
~O~
Jolted awake by an abrupt, nauseating sensation, Solas' senses went on high alert. His stomach twisted as he shifted in his bedroll, rolling onto his hands and knees. As he gagged, a sharp painful prickling sensation coursed through him, followed by a strange, constricting feeling around his neck. The sound of a soft thrumming near him drew his strained gaze, and the sickening dread welling within him intensified at the sight. His orb vibrated with dark energy, red smoke-like tendrils curling around the sphere ominously. A high pitched ringing pierced his ears, and yelling out, he clasped his hands over them in an attempt to block out the sound.
Stumbling out of his tent, his skin felt ablaze, just as the unmistakable agony of bones contorting and reshaping gripped him, transforming him into something savage and wild. Dark fur sprouted across his fingers and arms as his bones shifted painfully, causing him to collapse. By the end of his metamorphosis, he found himself whimpering, a sound of a creature enveloped in shadow. A howl escaped him, six glowing eyes scanning the dawn as he raced into the dense treeline.
~O~
The sunlight warmed the interior of her tent as Arabella lay in her bedroll, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts as she replayed the events of the night. The tender exchange she had shared with Solas was now marred by the sudden intrusion of that foul looking creature, leading her to question her initial judgments of the mage. Even though he had explained that his encounter with Sceleritas Fel was brief before their abduction, she still felt a twinge of anger, and she wasn't sure where to direct the powerful emotion.
Her gaze drifted to the crimson cloak lying next to her. As she touched its soft fabric, a warmth cascaded down her spine, offering a comforting touch followed by an enveloping embrace. She got dressed slowly, her eyes lingering on the cloak. Finally, slipping it on, she felt an invigorating, albeit perilous, pleasure wash over her. An impish smile crept across her face, and she closed her eyes, savoring this new yet oddly familiar feeling. It felt absolutely right.
Her eyes snapped open at the sound of a haunting howl. "Wolves this close to camp? That can't be good," she thought with a worried look. She quickly emerged from her tent to see her companions already assembled, their voices low and urgent as they spoke.
Arabella approached them carefully with a curious expression. "What is it?" she asked, scanning their faces for clues.
There was a moment of silence as they exchanged glances, seemingly weighing the gravity of the situation. Finally, Karlach stepped forward, breaking the tense quiet.
"Scratch found blood by Broody's tent," she said, her voice betraying a hint of worry. "But there's no sign of him anywhere."
Arabella's heart skipped a beat, and she suppressed the shiver that crawled down her spine. "Blood? Do we know what happened? Is he...?" Her voice trailed off, the possibility of harm befalling Solas leaving a knot in her stomach.
Karlach shook her head, her expression grim. "No idea. We've looked around, but it's like he vanished into thin air. And with wolves nearby... It's all a bit too strange."
Arabella's concern deepened, the eerie silence following Karlach's words weighing heavily on the group. It was then Gale stepped forward, his hands moving with a practiced grace as he conjured an ethereal glow that materialized into Solas' orb.
"We did find this," he announced, his voice carrying a gravity that drew everyone's attention. The orb, pulsating with a dark energy, was encased in a shimmering light. "Whatever it is, it's dangerous. I've cloaked it in a ward to keep its effects from spreading, but I'll need more time to figure out what nature of magic is lurking inside," he said with a look of curious apprehension.
"Solas" Arabella whispered, her heart sinking. The memory of Sceleritas giving her the mysterious sphere rushed back, overwhelming her with guilt. The realization that she might have inadvertently endangered Solas, and possibly others, struck her hard. She felt a wave of nausea, the guilt gnawing at her conscience. "This is my fault," she thought, despair taking hold.
Lae'zel's 'Tsk' cut through the mounting tension. "We must move quickly," she stated flatly, her gaze sharp and commanding. "Every moment we spend here gawking at each other could spell death for the elf."
The group fell silent for a moment; the possibility of losing Solas not just to the wilderness but to whatever dark magic now seemed to be at play, was a stark reality they had to face. Arabella turned her gaze from the githyanki with a frown. The idea that she might be responsible for his current predicament cut her deep.
As their companions busied themselves with gathering supplies, Astarion took a moment to quietly approach the worried drow. The air between them had been thick with tension since the incident with Alfira, yet despite a twinge of something akin to self-preservation, his concern for her well-being overshadowed his personal feelings. Begrudgingly, he understood the depth of her worry for the strange mage, and it bothered him to see her in distress.
"Arabella," he began softly, ensuring their conversation remained private amidst the activity around them. "I know things have been strained between us. But I want you to know, regardless of what's happened, I'm here for you, dear. We'll find him." His gaze held a sincerity that was hard to miss despite their recent differences.
She reached out, taking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. Feeling the warmth of her touch, Astarion couldn't resist slipping back into old habits.
"Just so we're clear— I'm offering my unparalleled skills and charming company, not my knack for getting into trouble," he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes. "Though, admittedly, they often come as a package deal."
His joke, so typical of his usual way, drew a brief, genuine laugh from Arabella's lips. But then she looked down, her lip caught between her teeth as the gears of worry ticked away in her mind before she dared to meet his gaze again.
"I lashed out at him," she confessed, her voice a mere whisper betraying her turmoil. "I reacted poorly, and now..." She shook her head, unable to finish the thought that filled her with dread.
Astarion softened at her distress. "Darling, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that dramatic exits are always followed by equally dramatic returns. Especially with Solas," he remarked sassily. "I mean, who else would deprive themselves of the sheer joy of my company?" His eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint as he added, "He'll be back, probably just to prove he can out-brood me."
The playful arrogance in his voice coaxed a small smile from the concerned drow. It was a momentary balm to the sting of her worries.
Gathering their resolve, the group quickly mobilized, spurred on by Lae'zel's call to action. However, just as they were about to step into the shadowy embrace of the forest, a figure emerged from the tree line. Solas, shirtless, his skin marked by scratches and his hands holding a torn garment wrapped around his waist, walked towards them barefoot. His eyes, wild and unyielding, scanned the group, landing on Arabella with a hair-raising intensity. The unexpected sight of him, so vulnerable yet defiant, halted everyone in their tracks.
The group exchanged surprised and perplexed looks, their previous resolve momentarily forgotten in the wake of Solas' sudden appearance. The silence was palpable, filled with unasked questions and unsaid accusations.
"What's going on here?" Solas asked, his voice cutting through the tension. There was an uncertainty in his tone, as if he, too, was caught off guard by his own state of disarray and their presence at the forest's edge.