~O~
The expedition from the Myconid territory had left the group weary but hopeful. Sovereign's request to eliminate the Duergar threat, while daunting, provided a clear path forward in their quest through the Underdark. Progressing deeper through the Underdark and into the Grymforge would only be possible by removing the Duergar, so the mission was beneficial to both parties.
Their camp at the outpost offered a semblance of safety, a brief respite in the heart of darkness. It was here, amidst preparations for the next day's perilous endeavor, that Solas noticed Gale's unusual fatigue. Unlike the physical weariness that clung to the rest of them, Gale's condition seemed deeper, almost sickly.
Concern etched in his features, Solas approached the wizard, the question unspoken yet evident in his gaze. With a sigh that seemed to drain him even more, he met Solas' concern with a reluctant admission.
"The hunger," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "For some reason the last artifact didn't quite seem to do the trick." The gravity in Gale's tone rested between them like a heavy weight.
Before Solas could probe further, the ground beneath them trembled with the ominous rhythm of heavy stomping. The growls that followed curdled his blood, heralding an imminent threat. "Minotaurs," he heard Gale struggle to gasp.
The outpost, barely recovered from the day's exertions, was thrust into chaos. The Minotaurs stomped and rammed all they could reach, their roars reverberating off the stone walls out into the vast space of the Underdark. Gale tried reaching for his quarterstaff, but in his weakened state, he was a significant loss to their defensive capabilities.
Solas only had the briefest of moments to survey their dire situation, but amidst the chaos, he stood resolute, anchored in place protectively over the wizard. Yet, beneath the surface, ancient power stirred, beckoning to be unleashed.
Sidelined by his arcane hunger, Gale could only watch as Solas stepped forward to confront the oncoming threat. It was then that a remarkable transformation began to unfold. Solas' eyes, normally a soft, thoughtful hue of gray, ignited with a wild, untamed light. The glow was otherworldly, and within those burning depths, a fierce determination took hold.
With a roar that melded human fury with a primal lupine ferocity, Solas summoned the spirit projection of Fen'Harel. The spectral wolf, a massive entity with six glowing eyes, mirrored the wild light in Solas' own gaze. Its form, ethereal yet undeniably powerful, surged forward, directed by the mage's will. With each motion of his hand and stave, the spirit wolf moved, tearing through the Minotaurs with a relentless ferocity.
Their motley crew, and the attacking creatures alike, were momentarily transfixed by the spectacle. Solas' features seemed to warp under the strain of his unleashed power, contours of his face flickering in the dim light, giving the briefest impression of elongating, of shifting into something... more. Whispers of fur, flashes of fangs—each glance revealed a new, fleeting aspect of the wolf within. Whether these glimpses were a trick of the light or a hint at a deeper transformation remained shrouded in the chaos of battle.
The Minotaurs, creatures of formidable strength and savagery, were caught off guard by the ferocity of the assault. Their roars of anger and pain filled the air as the spectral wolf ravaged their ranks, each strike guided by Solas' focused command.
As the last of the Minotaurs fell, the outpost fell into a stunned silence. The wild light in his eyes dimming, Solas looked momentarily as if he stood between two worlds—an ancient and foreign past and the uncertain present. His features settled back into their familiar form, leaving those who witnessed the transformation questioning what they had seen. Was it a trick of the mind, a manifestation of arcane power, or a glimpse into Solas' true nature?
As the camp finally settled, there was a lingering tension still in the air, flitting glances at one another speaking volumes as they all seemed to share the same thought—what was that?
"By the night," Astarion whispered to himself, a smirk playing on his lips despite the situation. "Our quiet Solas hides teeth. And here I thought I was the predator among us."
Even as he had watched Solas command the spectral wolf with awe, Astarion's instinctive response to danger—his readiness to fight or flee—was momentarily overshadowed by a newfound respect, and perhaps a hint of wariness, toward Solas. The wolf from his dream—Astarion thought it merely a version of Solas bound to the dream world, but now, he found himself questioning what exactly the mage's abilities were.
~O~
As the dust settled and the remnants of battle faded into the quiet of the Underdark, everyone in camp began the slow process of recollection. Weary yet alive, they all moved among one another with a shared sense of relief and disbelief. The victory, though hard-won, had revealed truths that would forever alter the fabric of their fellowship.
Astarion found Gale seated away from the others, his posture slumped with the weight of his arcane hunger. Approaching with a measured step, he couldn't help but comment, his voice laced with both jest and concern. "You look as though you're about to fade into the Weave itself, Gale. How fares your endless appetite?"
Gale managed a weary smile, the effort it took to do so evident in his pale features. "It is a hunger that's becoming harder to satiate. But, Astarion, it's not just my condition that preoccupies my thoughts tonight."
Astarion cocked his head, curiosity piqued. "Oh? And here I thought our recent brush with death would be at the forefront. Does this have to do with Solas and his... rather dramatic rescue?"
"Yes," Gale sighed, a flicker of intrigue igniting in his tired eyes. "The visions from the tadpole... they've hinted at something more, something ancient and powerful. Solas' display confirmed it. But what it means for us, I cannot say."
Astarion's expression turned thoughtful, his gaze drifting momentarily toward the mage in question, who was standing alone, his visage enveloped by a deep frown. "Solas has always been a riddle wrapped in a mystery. But whatever he unleashed out there, it's clear he's playing in leagues we can barely comprehend."
Gale nodded in agreement, his mind racing with possibilities and fears. "I worry about what lies ahead. Solas has saved us, yes, but at what cost? And what of his secrets? How much do we really understand about the power he wields?"
"Ah," Astarion said, his tone light but his eyes serious. "That is the question, isn't it? In our quest for survival, we've allied with a man who commands shadows and spirits as if they were but mere pawns in a greater game. Trust, it seems, is a gamble we're all too willing to make."
He extended a hand to help Gale to his feet, a gesture of camaraderie in uncertain times. "Let's not dwell on the unknown tonight. As for Solas, only time will reveal his true nature. Until then, we'll just have to deal with what comes."
Together, they rejoined their companions, the campfire casting long shadows across their faces. The conversation shifted, laughter mingling with the crackle of flames, but the mystery of Solas remained, an unspoken question mark lingering in the air.
~O~
In the quiet aftermath of the battle, as the camp's sounds faded into a distant hum, Solas stood alone, his gaze fixed on the horizon that lay shrouded in the darkness of the Underdark. The victory, though significant, did little to quell the storm of memories that surged within him, each one a reminder of a past both cherished and mourned.
His mind wandered, drawn back across the ages to his last night in Thedas, a moment that had defined the course of history. The air had been thick with the scent of betrayal, the night sky alight with the raw energy of untamed magic. He had just discovered the unfathomable truth: Mythal, the voice of reason and compassion, had been murdered, her life extinguished by the very beings she had sought to guide and protect. The Evanuris, driven by greed and lust for power, had conspired with Elgar'nan at the helm, leaving Solas reeling from the depth of their treachery.
The pain of Mythal's loss was a wound that cut deeper than the fabric of reality itself. She had been a mentor, a confidante, the embodiment of wisdom. Her counsel had always been a beacon of hope, urging restraint, advocating for peace amidst the growing discord. But with her light extinguished, the darkness of their deeds cast long shadows across Solas' heart.
It was in this crucible of grief and anger that his resolve was forged. The Veil, a concept he had contemplated but never enacted, became the only answer. Mythal's demise had torn away any illusion of reconciliation. The Evanuris, along with the Forgotten Ones, had to be contained, their reign of tyranny halted before it could consume the world.
With the weight of his foci in hand, Solas began to weave the spell, the complexity of its design matched only by the depth of his sorrow. Each incantation, every gesture, was imbued with the essence of his being, a final tribute to the world that was and the hope for what might one day be reborn from the ashes of their folly.
The energy that surged forth was cataclysmic, rending the very fabric of the world, separating the realms with a barrier unseen yet impenetrable. The Evanuris, caught in the midst of their machinations, found themselves trapped, their ambitions curtailed by the gossamer threads of the Veil.
As the spell reached its crescendo, Solas felt the pull of exhaustion, the expenditure of magic and emotion leaving him vulnerable. The world around him faded to black, the last sensation being the ground rising to meet him as consciousness slipped away.
When next he awoke, it was to the alien sights and sounds of Baldur's Gate, a realm so far removed from Thedas that it left him in a state of perplexed wonder. The adjustment was disorienting, the realization of his displacement a heavy burden to bear. Yet, in this new world, he was finding a purpose, a chance to atone for the past and perhaps, in time, to mend the fabric of reality he had so drastically altered.
Standing alone in this dark corner of the Underdark, Solas allowed the memories to wash over him, each one a piece of the puzzle that was his existence. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with danger and the unknown. Yet, he knew he must continue, for the sake of both worlds, and for the memory of Mythal, whose wisdom and grace had set him on this path.
~O~
Arabella found herself seeking out Solas, drawn to him not just by the spectacle of his power but by a need to understand what she had just witnessed. She found him on the outskirts of the camp, his gaze lost in the distance, the weight of his actions a tangible cloak around his shoulders.
"Solas," she said softly, her approach gentle, mindful of the tumultuous emotions he must be wrestling with. He turned toward her, his expression unreadable, the wild light that had ignited his eyes during the battle now dimmed to a thoughtful glow.
"Arabella," he acknowledged, his voice carrying a hint of the weariness that clung to them all.
She paused a moment before him, taking in the man who had stood as a beacon of strength in the face of overwhelming odds.
"What you did," she began, choosing her words with care, "I've never seen anything like it. Are you alright?"
Solas' gaze shifted, a flicker of vulnerability passing through his eyes before he masked it with a measured calm. "I am... managing," he replied evenly.
Arabella studied him, her intuition telling her there was more he wasn't saying. She understood the toll such magic could take, not just physically but on the soul itself. She thought of the Goblin Camp, the stories of the great wolf in the forest, and she knew. She had known then, but in this moment, as she looked at him standing dejectedly in the dark corner of camp, she knew that he was more than any of them could fathom.
"Solas, your strength, the depths of your power... it's a part of you," she said, gently squeezing his arm, an attempt to bridge the distance his secrets had placed between them. "But it doesn't have to be a burden you bear alone. We can face whatever comes, together."
For a moment, his resolve wavered, the barriers he had meticulously erected showing signs of crumbling under the weight of her sincerity. "Arabella," he whispered, his voice thick with unspoken emotion. "Your faith in me, it means more than you can know. But this path I tread, it's fraught with dangers, secrets that could..." He paused, the words trailing off, the magnitude of his fears laid bare in the space between them.
Arabella reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers, a silent vow of solidarity. "Then we'll navigate it together," she affirmed, her gaze unwavering. "No secrets, no shadows to hide in. Whatever comes, Solas, you're not alone. Not anymore."
In the flickering torchlight, Solas looked at Arabella, the weight of centuries in his gaze. Yet, in her eyes, he found a haven, a promise of companionship amidst the storms that lay ahead. With a nod, a silent acceptance of her offer, they stood together in the heart of the Underdark, their fates intertwined more tightly than ever.
As they turned back to the camp, their steps in sync, there was a renewed sense of purpose in their stride. The camp around them buzzed with the quiet activity of recovery and a delicate sense of tension, but for Solas and Arabella, the moment marked a beginning. A beginning fraught with unknowns, but one they would face side by side.
Lae'zel broke the silence first, her voice cutting through the air swiftly and with precision. "I would know what manner of creature you are, Solas."
As they turned back to the camp, their steps in sync, there was a renewed sense of purpose in their stride. The camp around them buzzed with the quiet activity of recovery and a delicate sense of tension, but for Solas and Arabella, the moment marked a beginning. A beginning fraught with unknowns, but one they would face side by side.
Lae'zel broke the silence first, her voice cutting through the air swiftly and with precision. "I would know what manner of creature you are, Solas."
Her directness brooked no evasion as her eyes bore into him with a steely resolve. The gathered companions, previously engrossed in their tasks, turned their attention toward Solas, curiosity and concern etched on their faces.
Feeling the weight of their gazes, he straightened. A defensive edge colored his response, his words tinged with a hint of irritation. "I am no 'creature,' Lae'zel. I am as much a person as any of you are."
The air tensed, a silent standoff brewing as the others exchanged uneasy looks. It was clear that the spectacle of his power had unsettled the group, and Lae'zel's bluntness had sparked a flame that threatened to ignite the underlying tension.
Before anyone could fan the flames further, Astarion stepped forward, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Oh, come now," he interjected, his voice smooth and disarmingly casual. "What does a secret matter if we find ourselves on the benefiting side of its consequences? Solas here has just saved our hides, and spectacularly at that. Perhaps we should be less concerned with what he is and more grateful that he is with us. Hmm?" A hand on his hip, he surveyed the group with an arched eyebrow.
His words seemed to douse some of the immediate tension, but it simmered just below the surface. A debate ensued, some of the companions voicing their desire for transparency, arguing that understanding Solas' nature was crucial to their shared quest. Gale, ever the peacemaker, suggested that trust was the foundation of their group, and Arabella, standing by Solas, emphasized the importance of respecting each other's privacy and boundaries.
The argument teetered on the brink of eruption, the air charged with conflicting emotions and the fierce desire to understand the unknown. It was then that Solas, seeing the division his secrets had caused, made a decision. Clearing his throat, he signaled for silence, his expression solemn.
"I was once considered a god," he began, his voice steady, commanding attention. The admission hung heavily in the air, drawing surprised gasps and skeptical glances. "But the reality is more nuanced. In my land, the 'gods' were nothing more than sorcerers of immense power, capable of bending time and space, shaping the world to their will. Magic was not a tool but the very fabric of our existence. To exist was to be in harmony with both spirit and physical forms."
His companions listened, a mix of awe and disbelief in their faces as they processed his words; his revelation was a glimpse into a world far removed from their understanding.
He left it at that, a small portion of the truth laid bare. The implications what little he shared were vast, hinting at a depth of power and a past shrouded in mystery. The group was left to ponder the nature of their mysterious companion, the revelation offering as many questions as it answered. When he turned from them to retreat to his tent, Arabella was not far behind, following him to his corner of the camp.
"T'chk ," Lae'zel spat, turning on her heel and striding toward her tent.
Astarion looked at the remaining group and shrugged half-heartedly, making his own exit in search of Arabella.
~O~
Away from the others and the remnants of the day's tensions, Arabella, Astarion, and Solas found a secluded spot to talk. The weight of recent revelations and the complexity of their relationships hung between them, a flurry of unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings.
Arabella broke the silence first, her voice steady yet imbued with the vulnerability of what she wanted to say. "We find ourselves at a crossroads, it seems," she started, glancing between the two men. "I value you both, more than I can say. And I feel it's time we address the nature of our bond."
The more reserved of the trio, Solas nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on her. "I've made my feelings for you clear, Arabella," he said, the depth of his emotion evident in his voice.
Astarion, who typically masked discomfort with an impish grin, let a more serious expression take over. "I won't pretend this isn't... unusual for me," he admitted, his usual confidence tempered with a rare show of introspection. "But Bella, your happiness is paramount. And Solas," he turned to the mage, a grudging respect in his eyes, "I can't fault your taste."
A soft chuckle escaped Arabella at his attempt to lighten the mood, appreciating his effort to navigate the conversation with grace.
"What I seek," she continued, "is a way for us all to be at peace with this... with us. I care deeply for you both, in ways that are both similar and uniquely different. I'm not asking for decisions or declarations. Just... can we agree to explore this path, together, and see where it leads us?"
Solas considered her words. He glanced at Astarion, whose eyes were still locked on Arabella. The vampire's emotions were written on his face, plain to see. Solas had no doubts about the other elf's feelings, and he couldn't blame him.
"I have no objections," Solas said, his voice low and gentle.
Arabella's eyes met Solas', and a spark of hope ignited in her. "Truly?"
He nodded, his features softening into a smile. "We are both bound to you, Arabella, in ways that none of us fully comprehend. I certainly do not intend on fighting it any longer."
"It's settled, then," Astarion said, a glimmer of amusement returning to his expression. "I must admit, Solas, I would never have guessed that I'd find myself in agreement with you. But what a night it's turning out to be."
Solas huffed a laugh, shaking his head slightly at the vampire's bravado.
Arabella looked between them, her eyes wide with surprise. "This is truly alright? With both of you?"
They nodded, and Astarion quirked an eyebrow at her, a familiar, mischievous smirk crossing his face. "Of course, darling," he drawled. "The more, the merrier."
Her lips parted in a gasp at the term of endearment, a surge of emotion flooding her. She turned her gaze to Solas, seeking confirmation that he was also on board with this unusual arrangement.
He met her eyes, his expression softening at the uncertainty in her features. "We are bound to you, Arabella," he repeated. "I am yours, in whatever way you wish."
Relief washed over her, and she felt her heart swell with a perverse joy. "Thank you," she murmured, reaching out to take Solas' hand in hers and gently squeezing. "I have never asked either of you to give up anything, and I wouldn't dream of starting now. This means more than I can say."
"I'm sure it'll be quite the experience," Astarion said, his eyes gleaming. "And I've had plenty of those."
Solas stifled a chuckle. "I bet."
"What now?" Arabella asked, the weight of the day's revelations still weighing on her. "There's still much to discuss, but..."
"But we have time," Astarion finished for her, taking her hand in his own and running his thumb along her knuckles. "You are exhausted, my dear. Perhaps a rest is in order. You know where to find me." He brought her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against it as he gave her a knowing look.
They both watched as the vampire spawn got up and strolled gracefully toward his tent. Arabella looked over at Solas, a question in her eyes.
"Solas, would you mind terribly staying with me tonight?" she asked softly, her eyes searching his. "I don't want to be alone."
A slow, gentle smile spread across the elf's face. "Of course, vhenan."
He rose to his feet, reaching out a hand to help her up. Arabella took it and stood, a small smile lighting her own features. They walked in silence to her tent, the night air cool and refreshing against their skin.
They ducked inside and Arabella knelt, pulling off her boots. Solas sat down beside her, watching her with warmth in his eyes. She tossed the boots aside, then shrugged off her light armor and folded it neatly, setting it on the ground. She removed her dagger from its sheath and laid it next to the pile.
She turned to Solas, suddenly shy. He was gazing at her with such love and adoration, her cheeks warmed at the thought of being so close to him. He reached out to cup her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling of his hand against her skin.
He stroked his thumb along her cheekbone, studying her face. She looked so beautiful in the dimly lit tent, her dark gray skin luminous and her raven black hair tumbling around her shoulders. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, soft and tender, and she sighed, the sound sending a jolt of desire through him.
She shifted closer and deepened the kiss, her hands coming up to tangle in the braids gathered at the nape of his neck. He groaned at the sensation, his body responding instantly. They broke apart for air, their breaths mingling as they stared into each other's eyes.
"Ar lath ma," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
"I don't know what that means," she said with a laugh, "But, hells, does it sound sexy coming from your mouth."
He smiled, the expression lighting up his face. "It means..." He pressed his lips to hers softly, gently tracing the bow of her lips with his tongue. "I love you."
She gazed into his eyes, her heart swelling with emotion. "Solas, I..."
"You do not have to say it back," he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I simply wanted you to know."
She closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of his touch. She had never felt so safe, so cherished.
He leaned in to kiss her again, his lips lingering against hers. She moaned softly, the sound sending another jolt of desire through him. He pulled back and looked at her, his eyes dark with hunger.
"I want nothing more than to please you," he said, his voice low and husky. "Will you have me, vhenan?"
She gazed into his eyes, her heart racing at the intensity of his desire. She leaned in, capturing his lips in another kiss, and he responded with a low growl, his hands sliding down her back to pull her closer. She straddled him, the thin fabric of her tunic and his breeches doing nothing to hide the hardness of his arousal. He bucked his hips against hers, his body responding to her touch. She gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders as she ground her hips against his.
He reached for the hem of her tunic, tugging it off and tossing it aside. Her breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze, her body responding instantly. He ran his hands over her bare skin, his touch setting her on fire. She tugged at his clothes, eager to feel his skin against hers. They quickly shed the rest of their clothes, save for the thin fabric between her legs, and he pulled her close again, his body pressed against hers.
She gasped at the sensation, her hands roaming over his lean, muscular frame. He buried his face in her neck, kissing and sucking the delicate skin there, eliciting a heady moan from her lips. He carefully leaned her back on the bedroll, his fingers deftly reaching for the sheer fabric of her undergarment. He slid them off her hips, his mouth moving down her body, his tongue tracing a path down her stomach and lower.
She shuddered as he licked and teased her most delicate spot, her hands grasping at his shoulders. She bucked her hips against him, urging him on. He slipped a finger inside her, curling it expertly and making her cry out.
"Solas," she gasped, her breath ragged. "Don't stop."
He didn't, his tongue swirling around her clit as his finger slid in and out. She moaned and writhed beneath him, her body offering itself to his every whim. His eyes burned into hers as he worked her, and she felt a familiar tingling building inside her.
"Let go, vhenan," he murmured against her flesh, his voice sending her over the edge.
She cried out as the wave of pleasure crashed over her, her body arching and shuddering as she rode out the aftershocks. He withdrew his finger and slowly kissed his way up her body, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, and she groaned, her body still trembling from her release.
He rolled them over so that she was on top of him, his hands roaming over her bare skin. He bucked his hips against hers, his hard length sliding against her wet folds, making her gasp. He guided himself to her entrance, then pushed into her, filling her completely. She moaned, her eyes rolling back in pleasure as he stretched and filled her.
He rocked his hips, thrusting deeper and harder, his eyes locked on hers. She felt another wave of pleasure building inside her as he moved, his pace quickening as he approached his own release. He reached between them and stroked her, his fingers moving in a familiar rhythm. She gasped, her body arching as the tension built inside her.
She came apart again, her walls clenching around him as she rode out the second wave of pleasure. He thrust once, twice more before he, too, was undone, her name on his lips as he spilled himself inside her. They collapsed into each other's arms, their breaths mingling as they came down from their high.
She hummed into his ear, her fingers tracing circles on his skin. He kissed her forehead, a smile on his lips.
"You're incredible," she whispered, her voice still laced with pleasure.
He chuckled, pulling her closer. "I am yours, vhenan."
She kissed him softly, a contented sigh escaping her. She settled against him, her head on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, and she felt herself drifting off to sleep, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with her.