I worked on this all night, trying to keep myself sane for the upcoming holiday! Thanks for hosting @right-in-the-vhenan and @the-queen-of-thedas yall wonderful ❤💜 @patheticnugbaby ‘s Solmera Adaar having a meeting with a certain former Archmage in her dreams, much to her confusion.
I tried to do her justice, and I hope you enjoy!
Solmera understood the fade far to well, and understood more than most how dangerous it could be. Fortunately for her and many others, she also knew that dreams could help, comfort, and soothe as well. She would never have expected this, though, this meeting of the minds, this amusing and fantastical situation, brought on no doubt by her stress over Corypheus, over the Wardens, over Blackwall.
“Thom” She muttered, brushing a lock of hair aside. She must remember - it was Thom now.
“Who is Thom now?”
Directing her attention back to the spirit beside her, Solmera suppressed an irritated huff, brushing a lock of hair behind an ear.
“You know, my parents always told me never to talk to spirits. But I suppose I can make an exception for you.”
The spirit, an older woman, hair stone grey, clutching a staff in one hand, laughed.
“And here I thought I could get away with being anonymous for once in my life. But no, I suppose not. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Solmera. Or should I call you Inquisitor?”
“Solmera will do fine, thank you. And you are Wynne, one time Archmage and leader of the college of Aequitarians. You voted to keep the circles together?”
Wynne looked amused, glancing out at the shifting and swirling of the fade beyond.
“That’s the first thing you ask? Not, ‘why is there a spirit talking to me’ or ‘hey what comes after you die?’”
“No! No, I mean…” Solmera stuttered, suddenly abandoned by the calm assurance she was usually capable of commanding. She’d read volumes of books since the move to Skyhold - most Orlesian libraries were eager to help out the Inquisition, and Vivienne had been going to lengths to gather up what tomes of lore had been scattered when the circles fell. More recent accounts from the last decade spoke of Wynne, her contribution to the defeat of the Archdemon, her rise through the ranks to become a First Enchanter. Vivienne spoke of her as well, of her eloquence in front of the College, her passionate defense of the circles. She spoke of other things, though, that had caught Solmera’s attention. Of her unique ways of casting, her proficiency with a staff, the way she redirected leftover spell energies into strengthening her barrier, and more techniques that she could hardly imagine. Yes. She had more questions, though none of them ran in the direction Wynne seemed to be expecting.
“Why a staff?” Was what came out of her mouth, instead, and she suppressed a groan, closing her eyes briefly as a gentle tinkle of laughter rang out.
“Because a staff is familiar to me. It’s what I trained with - it’s what most Circle mages train with. The Chantry likes to keep us readily identifiable.”
“But…. there are other things that are so much easier….”
“Yes, “ The spirit acknowledged with a smile, “But a staff is what works for -me-. Just as I prefer a staff and robes, someone else might prefer a bladed half-staff and breeches.”
A vision flickered in the distance briefly, a young woman, with dark hair and a smudge of blood on her nose, wielding such a staff with fury. Then it blew away, an eddy of green energy shifting through and destroying the image.
“You’re very eager for knowledge. It’s good to see. I always did love teaching.” A sad smile touched the spirits lips, before she turned back to the Qunari, reaching out a hand to gently touch her shoulder. “That’s what probably what drew you here tonight. So desperate for answers, so ready to know everything.”
Solmera turned away briefly, but when she turned back her eyes blazed with some unnamable emotion.
“Is that so bad?”
“Not in and of itself. Knowledge is the same as any weapon, able to kill or protect, defend or attack. But…. I think…. I can hear your questions. So many. So let us start at the beginning.”
The Inquisitor beamed, and light armor instantly appeared around her, replacing the flowing blue dress she hadn’t been aware of until that moment.
Wynne chuckled.
“That’s a girl.”
_________________________________________
The next morning Thom thought he was the only one awake, but when he rolled over, arm automatically seeking the warmth of Solmera’s body, he found only a cold bedroll. He rose carefully, taking a moment to strap on his armor before stepping into the chill morning air. They were in the northwest of Orlais, near the fortress where the Circle of Magi had at last been dissolved. It took him a little while, but eventually he found her in a clearing some distance away, moving through forms unfamiliar to him. They seemed unfamiliar to her as well, as she was more careful than she usually was when she practiced, steps careful, very conscious of the position of her arms.
Unwilling to intervene and risk the chance of startling her, Thom Ranier settled himself upon a stump, content to watch the beautiful woman in front of him. Eventually she seemed to settle into the routine, and as he watched something else seemed to emerge, a combination of the old and new forms, flowing steps and short strikes, and he could feel the air around her spark with energy. Finally she stopped, settling on the ground, turning her face up to the steadily strengthening warmth of the sun. He approached her then, trailing one hand along her shoulders before settling besides her, bracing her back with his own. Concern over the the shadows beneath her eyes gnawed at him, but he kept silent for the moment, only a slight heaviness to his voice giving it away.
“Come back to the tent.”
“Mmmm.” It was just a murmur, but he could feel her nodding against him. He rose up, drawing her with him, and began the walk back to the camp, one arm sliding around her waist.
“Didn’t sleep well My Lady?”
A husky chuckle was her only response for a moment, before she finally glanced at him, a smile teasing her lips.
“On the contrary. My dreams were…. Informative. But not very restful.”
“Well then,” Thom said, not bothering to hide his confusion, “We’ll have to delay starting out today. Allow you some more time to rest.”
Arm in arm they walked back, and Solmera tumbled into their blankets with a happy satisfaction that would last for weeks. This time, she dreamt only of happy things, of her siblings and parents, of Thom and herself, of all the things that comforted her.
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Hey, remember how I said I wouldn’t be writing because I’m working on DnD?
Apparently, I lied, have some SolmeraxThom, also tagged Bladaar, sometimes Thomera if it’s post-revelations.
At the very beginning of Trespasser, based on the scene where your Inquisitor wakes up and he’s not there and she’s sad and scared for a minute.
Solmera wakes in the middle of the night, eyes slowly flickering open in the dark. The softest beams of silver light fall through dark curtains. Indigo, she remembered, like an afterthought. In the night they looked black but they were blue in the sunlight. She bundles the blankets a little closer to her chin, curling to keep her feet under them. As she turned she smelled him, wood, metal, leather, somehow the scent of hay still stuck to him, though it’d been ages since he slept in the Skyhold stables. She smiled sleepily, ignoring the smallest sound of fabric ripping, a small tug on her head that told her she’d gored yet another pillow in her sleep. She reached for him, closing her eyes as her fingers traveled over the too-soft plush covers.
Nothing.
Something sharp and tight closed in her chest, around her throat long before her eyes snapped open again. She sat up, slowly on shaking arms. Her eyes opened as wide as they could go, seeing nothing except the barest suggestion of shapes against the wall. A wardrobe, couches, a small table with two chairs facing the windows.
“Thom?” Her voice was too soft, unsure and shaking.
Still nothing.
She clenched her jaw, throwing the blankets off and swinging her legs out of bed. Her fingers clenched tightly at the edge of the mattress as she shut her eyes, her breath hissing softly between her clenched teeth. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, once, twice before she gave up and stood to take a long, steadying breath. That sharp, hollow something in her chest was still there, like shattered glass just barely held together, one breath and it was gone.
Solmera let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, slowly unclenching her hands before she curled them into fists again, nails cutting into her palms. She waved her Anchor-hand, lighting the numerous candles, braziers, and the hearth, bathing the room in warm, orange light. She spread her hands out towards the fire but she didn’t feel the warmth. She heard the door open and didn’t turn to face it. That’d be too much to hope for.
“... ‘Mera?”
Her breath caught in her throat but she didn’t turn to face him. Relief, hot and painful rushed through her, her summoned fires spluttered before steadying. The slow shuffle of feet, no, socks on on tiles. She flexed her fingers, jaw clenched tightly against the hot prickling on tears in the corners of her eyes.
Gentle, hesitant hands with rough palms slowly circled her waist, callouses catching on the thin fabric of her nightgown. She spun, almost too quickly, and squeezed him tightly in her arms, burying her face in his tangled mess of hair. Blackberries and sage, he’d used her soaps again.
She chuckled, a broken sound as hot tears raced down the sharp lines of her nose.
“I’m not going anywhere, ‘Mera.”
She laughed, or tried to, it came out like a sob. His arms, strong even for someone so much smaller than she was, tightened around her. She crushed him closer, shutting her eyes and nuzzling into his hair.
They stayed like that for awhile, hugging each other so tightly their arms shook. She moved first. She always moved first now, like he wanted to be sure she wanted him to let go before he did. Or maybe he just liked to hold on that little bit longer.
“I’m sorry, ‘Mera, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” A tentative hand brushing the sleep-mussed hair away from her cheek, the soft rasp of calloused hands on much softer skin.
“I shouldn’t frighten so easily-”
“‘Mera,” He stopped her, thumb lightly stroking her cheek, “I have watched you stare down your nose at gods, titans, dragons, god-dragons and you’ve never flinched, not once. I left you. Because I’m a fucking idiot but I’m the luckiest fucking idiot in the world because you took me back, gave me the chance I don’t deserve,” He sighed, like for a moment the words caught in his throat, thick like molasses, “I love you. Now, what can I do so I don’t frighten you again?”
She laughed, really laughed this time, soft and breathy but it sounded like joy, “Wake me when you get up at night, I don’t care how often you have to do it, just wake me up, tell me you’re leaving and you’re coming back.”
“I can do that,” He reached up with his free hand, cupping her face as he pulled her down to rest his forehead against hers, she giggled a little, stifling a yawn, “Back to bed, My Lady?”
“Back to bed, Ser Rainier,” She lightly kissed the tip of his nose, making him grin.
Solmera snapped her fingers, more for show than anything else, snuffing all the lights at once. Thom laughed, his rough hands easily finding hers in the dark. The green of the anchor flashed brilliantly, once she would’ve called the light eerie but by now it was just light, a fact of being who she was.
She led him back to their bed, scooting over under the covers until she laid where he’d been before she woke. The pillow still smelled like him, leather, metal, wood, the softest hint of blackberries and sage, she wasn’t sure if that was him or her. It didn’t matter.
He slid into bed next to her, pressing close to wind his arms around her again, his head comfortably resting on her shoulder. She grinned wide, pressing a kiss to his forehead, earning a chuckle and a playful nuzzle under her chin. His beard tickled her skin. Solmera laughed a little, wrapping one arm around him and tugging him close.
Hey, quick doodle because anyone who thinks that Knight-Enchanter, Dragon Slayer, God Killer, Serpent of the Imperial Court, Savior of the Gray Wardens of Orlais, Vanquisher of the Rebel Mages of Fereldan, Former Inquisitor Solmera First-Thaw Adaar won’t be kicking some serious ass in DA4 can fucking fight me. I’ll take on the entire Bioware team at once for this I swear to God I will.
Somewhere in the background Blackwall is probably fucking swooning. Bull and Sera might too, not sure.
Trespasser was hard on her, close-quarters fight some asshole snapped off the end of her right horn. Hurt like a bitch.
This has been floating around my drafts for awhile but I finished it tonight, have some more Blackwall x Solmera love.
Solmera signed her name with an easy flourish before sprinkling the sand over the drying ink. After letting it sit she blew it away before folding it into the proper envelope, dripping wax and pressing the Inquisition signet into it. She smiled a little as she set the letter neatly on top of the looming tower of finally finished paperwork. She rolled her neck a little and stood, stretching her arms above her head before removing the pin that held her hair, letting it fall down her back with the scent of blackberries and sage.
There was a small knock at her door, she could hear the hesitation in it and smiled, “Come in, Blackwall.”
She heard the warmth of his laughter as he pushed open the door, taking the steps two at a time, “Someday you’ll need to tell me how you do that, ‘Mera.”
“Magic,” She grinned, stepping up to him and resting her arms on his shoulders, leaning over him a little to see behind him, “what’s that?”
“A gift, for later,” He smiled up at her, tucking the small package under his hands, “have I interrupted your paperwork again?”
“No,” She smiled and lightly pecked his forehead, “you had impeccable timing tonight. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“Can I not visit my lady because I wanted to see her?” He raised one of his hands to touch her cheek, only to stop himself short with a little smile to remove his glove first.
She leaned into his hand, rough and calloused. He smelled of sawdust, horses, and hay, little flecks of hayseeds in his beard. Solmera peeled her own gloves off to gently pick them out.
“Been helping the Horsemaster again?” She smirked at his little chuckle, running her hands through the tangles of his hair, gently unsnarling the knots with her fingers.
“Not today, got in a bit of a hay fight with Sera,” He admitted with a fond grin, closing his eyes a little, “how are you, My Lady?”
“Considering I have emerged victorious over the demons of paperwork, I’m doing very well,” Solmera smiled a little wider, trailing her fingers along his cheek, “I even have a few extra hours of the evening left,” she gave him a sly little glance that made him chuckle, “what do you think we should do with those?”
“They’re your hours, My Lady, I am perfectly content to spend them at your beck and call,” He smiled, shifting the package behind his back to remove his second glove, throwing it somewhere behind him.
Solmera grinned and pressed a kiss between his heavy brows. She loved it when he just threw his gloves somewhere on the floor, it meant that he was staying the night. The only time he put them neatly somewhere was when he was intending on leaving.
“Would you like a drink?” She asked, moving back to her desk and opening the drawer, pulling out one of three bottles she liked to keep there, “I’m in a whiskey mood.”
“Not tonight, though I may steal a sip of yours,” He grinned at the little scowl she threw his way as he sat down on the couch.
Solmera smiled and shook her head a little before she took her glass of whiskey back to the couch he sat on. She lounged on the other side, comfortably resting her legs on his lap. He chuckled softly and set the little package on the arm of the couch, slowly unlacing her boots for her.
“You don’t need to-”
“I’d like to, My Lady,” He answered, pulling off one of her boots and setting it carefully next to the couch, “you carry a lot on your shoulders, sometimes I’m afraid it might be too much.”
“I’m fine, kadan,” She smiled, taking a small sip of her drink, enjoying the warmth it brought to her chest, “some days are harder than others, some decisions are harder than others but I have yet to have a day where it’s become too much.”
“You are an amazing woman, My Lady,” There was a heavy note of reverence in his voice, a kind of worship when he touched her, even when he was just unlacing her other boot, “I pray that day never comes.”
“It will,” She replied, taking another sip, “and when it does, I’ll have the Inquisition, my advisors, companions,” she paused, allowing her eyes to wander around his face, stopping at his lips, then flicking up to his warm, gray eyes, “and I’ll have you.”
“I would never leave you side, My Lady,” The was a firmness in his voice that made her cheeks a little warm, something she hid with another sip of whiskey.
“I know,” She smiled a little wider when he removed her second boot and she stretched a little, wiggling her toes through her socks, “What’s in the package?” she nudged it with her heel, her feet easily dangling over the edge of the couch.
“A gift,” He answered with a devious little grin, snatching it away from her offending foot, “for later.”
Solmera growled a little, leaning further back onto her couch, giving him a little scowl, “How much later?”
“As late as I like,” He answered, rolling her pant legs up past her knees before he went to work massaging her legs.
She sighed softly, making a soft, almost purring sound in her throat. He grinned at that, stopping just for a moment to set the little package on the back of the couch, just out of reach unless she wrapped one of her legs around his shoulders.
“You know you don’t have to do this for me,” As she said it she sunk a little deeper into the couch, taking a little sip of her whiskey before she gave him a lazy grin.
“You know that I enjoy doing this for you, My Lady,” He grinned, glancing back at the little package to check if she was reaching for it again.
“I’ll behave, for now,” She gave him a smirk before leaning her head back, eyes closed and her glass held loosely in her hand.
Solmera didn’t need to have her eyes open to feel how he was looking at her. She felt it, gray-blue eyes lingering over her with the kind of adoration usually reserved for gods, hands that were rough and scarred with a long, hard life always touched her with a reverence that bordered on worship. An easy warmth bloomed in her chest that had nothing to do with the whiskey, something gently fluttering in her stomach, like moth wings.
“You’re doing it again,” His voice cut through her quiet little reverie, causing her to open her eyes with a little frown.
“Doing what again?”
“That humming you do sometimes,” He chuckled softly, moving his hands to her other leg, “Do you not notice?”
“Only when I do it on purpose,” There was a tiny heat that built in her cheeks, one she hoped would be explained by the alcohol, “it’s a happy noise.”
“You have a lot of those,” He smirked at her before shaking a little bit of his wild hair out of his eyes.
“Mm, just for you,” Solmera chuckled, swirling the last swallow of whiskey in her glass with a slow, smug smile, the kind she knew he liked, just a little too much.
He gave her a dark look, tutting softly as he reached behind his head for the little package. Nervously, hid fiddled with it, fussing at the corners before gently, cautiously, setting it in her lap.
“So it’s later now?” She grinned, downing the last of her whiskey and setting the glass on the ground, she took the package in one hand before leaning forward to plant a little kiss on his temple, “Why so nervous, kadan?”
He brightened a little when she called him that, smiling softly as he leaned back on the couch, more lounging now than curled around her legs, “Don’t mind me, ‘Mera, just open it.”
She grinned, shifting a little in her seat before she carefully found the seams of the wrapping, peeling back each neatly folded piece of coarse, brown paper like it’d shatter in her large hands, “Did you wrap this?”
“No, Sera helped with that.”
“Sera? This neat?” Solmera tilted her head, squinting at him a moment, “No...”
“It was Sera, surprisingly good at it too,” He grinned, then laughed a little, leaning his head back on the couch, “She said it was easier to prank people with nicely wrapped things.”
Solmera giggled a little, turning the package over and carefully pulling apart the other side.
“You’re being careful.”
“I don’t know what it is, and it’d be a shame to shred Sera’s remarkably good wrapping,” Solmera smiled, finally unfolding the paper with a quiet little gasp, her fingers flying to cover her mouth.
It was a small, beautifully detailed little wood carving. A tiny, wooden high dragon, poised to breathe fire, even the teeth and tongue were carved. It looked like the Abyssal High Dragon they faced in the Western Approach. Gently, carefully, she picked it up again, fingers running delicately over it to feel the way the wings were carved, the scales.
“I- uh, remembered how after we killed it you said that you wanted one of your own,” He sounded flustered and she looked at him, unable to keep herself from grinning like a child, “I-”
“Blackwall,” She set the figure carefully in her lap, reaching to guide his face to look at her, her forefinger set firmly against his jaw, “I love it. Thank you.”
He grinned then, something warm sparking in his eyes as he took her hand, turning his head to press a soft, ticklish kiss into her palm. Solmera giggled softly, carefully setting the figure on the arm of the couch as she tucked her legs under herself, scooting over to wrap her arms around his shoulders and shower his face with kisses. He smiled a little wider at first, his grin growing until he laughed, catching her face in his hands before she stopped.
She chuckled a little before she caught his eyes, a sudden flush creeping into her cheeks. His expression was warm, it made him look just a little bit younger, smoothing the beginnings of wrinkles on his forehead, adding extra crinkles to his eyes. There was something dark and intense to his eyes, usually reverent, worshipful, now piercing. It turned her stomach into jelly.
“May I make a request, My Lady?” His voice was soft, husky, even as he tenderly brushed a few stray locks of hair behind her pointed ears.
“Yes.”
“May I kiss you, My Lady?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t lunge for her like she thought he would, with that look in his eyes. There was the tugging of a smirk on the corners of his lips as he leaned just a little closer, his breath a silent whisper on her mouth. Underneath the scent of woodsmoke and hay, she caught the salty smell of his skin, his eyes were still open, gray-blue locked on her brilliant yellow. His lips were gentle on her own, tender, lingering. She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she dragged him over her. He chuckled softly against her lips, a sound she swallowed to eagerly, tongue slipping over his lips with a wicked little smile. He rumbled softly in his chest, then growled as she quickly pulled away from him, an impish grin playing on her lips.
“My lady...”
“Ser Blackwall,” She chuckled, one of her hands idly playing with the laces of his overshirt, “If you’d like more kisses I’m afraid you’re going to have to ask for them.”
“Am I now?” He gave her a devious little smile, a crafty gleam in his eyes, then he shrugged, sitting back on his side of the couch, “I suppose I’ll have to made do with the one.”
Solmera huffed, folding her arms and giving him a little scowl. She didn’t expect him to call her bluff. He gave her a little sideways smile, leaning back to lounge comfortably on the couch. She growled, scooting over and swinging her leg over his, straddling his lap. He craned his neck to look up at her, rough hands resting comfortably on her hips.
“You’re a tricky bastard, Blackwall.”
“I can’t say I know what you mean, My Lady,” He grinned wide now, hands playing idly at her sides.
She growled, a hand wrapping around the back of his neck with a little snarl that showed her teeth, “Shut up and kiss me.”
He laughed and obliged without complaint, returning every one of her fervent kisses with the same ardor.
“How many hours did you say we had, My Lady?” He whispered hungrily against her lips, rough hands toying with the many, many buttons of her shirt.
“All night if you want,” She grinned, resting her forehead against his, “does that sound... satisfactory?”
Rewrote the scene where you commit to a relationship with Blackwall. The way they behave you cannot tell me he hasn’t been up there before just to see her or to help her relax after a long day.
Also, I love the idea of someone please helping my poor baby Solmera out of all those fucking constrictive layers at the end of a long day.
Enjoy!
Edit: I may continue this as a NSFW drabble, I don’t know for sure, though. If you want me to I guess let me know in the comments.
Solmera sighed softly when she ducked into her quarters, closing the door behind and and leaning against it, eyes closed.
“I swear by all that is or ever was holy I will crack the skull of the next fucking ridiculous noble that calls me ‘Inquisitor Oxman’,” She growled through clenched teeth.
“I think I’d pay to see that, M’lady.”
Her eyes snapped open, sliding over to the balcony doors where he leaned against the wall, arms folded, “Blackwall! Forgive me, I wasn’t expecting you,” she straightened, brushing the front of her coat, “was I supposed to be expecting you?”
“No, ‘Mera, you weren’t. I just-” He paused, like he was struggling to speak, “I just needed to see you.”
She sighed, allowing herself to sag a little, “It’s good to see you, Blackwall. Would you mind if I took a moment? I’d like to be more comfortable.”
“Whatever you need, My Lady, I’m not going anywhere just yet,” He smiled softly at her, standing up and closing the balcony door behind him.
“Please, sit,” She smiled at him as she came up the last few steps, two at a time, unclasping the decorative pauldrons that broadened her shoulders.
“I think I’ll stand,” He approached her slowly, reaching up and tugging thoughtfully on the clasp of her rich, navy cloak, “may I?”
“Of course,” She bit her lip a little, looking down to him, “should I sit?”
“No. Stand as you are, My Lady. I would have you no other way,” She blushed a little at that, thankful for the dim firelight of her rooms that may hide it.
He unclasped her cloak and tossed it onto the bed, reaching a little higher to slip off the metal ornaments on her horns. She sighed with relief once those were off, they squeezed uncomfortably after a while. Blackwall reached down to her hips, unclasping the belt that tightened her billowy coat to her waist. His hands roamed quietly up her sides, then over her shoulders to shrug it off at her feet.
There was a quiet intensity in his eyes, a kind of stormy heat. She loved that he never looked away from her, how his gaze never settled on her horns, or how he never once mentioned the odd amber hue of her eyes.
His fingers tugged gently at the laces of her tight leather corset, slowly pulling them loose until she let out a soft, grateful breath. He peeled it off of her, staring just a little at how her shirt clung to her body with sweat. He reached up to the collar of it, carefully undoing the top two buttons, loosening its grip on her neck.
She brought her fingers to the column of her throat, pleased when she didn’t feel any indentations on her neck from the tightness of it all.
“My I speak frankly, My Lady?” His voice was quiet, she realized that his hands rested comfortably on her waist, a gentle, pleasant squeeze.
“Always,” She removed one of her gloves with her teeth, then pulled the other off one finger at a time.
“You cannot be comfortable like that,” His voice was low, a soft growl of anger to it.
“I’m not. That is why I only wear it on days where I need to be impressive,” She smiled, resting her arms on his shoulders.
“You are always impressive. More than impressive,” He reached to gently touch her face, she felt his calloused hands smear some of the makeup. “You don’t need any more ornamentation to make you that way.”
“Thank you,” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, leaving a small, crimson smear, “shit, I’m sorry, let me-” she wrapped a thumb in her sleeve, gently rubbing the mark off his head.
He laughed, a big, belly laugh that warmed her heart, “It’s fine, ‘Mera, stop fussing.”
She scowled and gently pushed him, forcing him back a step, “I do not fuss.”
He raised his hands, as if to surrender, a wry smile on his face, “Andraste as my witness you fuss worse than my mother ever did.”
“You should meet my mother, then you’d understand what fussing is.” She growled, tromping over to the basin, filling it was cool water before she soaked a washing cloth in it, “Do you mind?”
“Not at all, My Lady.”
She gathered water in her hands, it was so cold it nearly stung, and splashed it on her face with a shudder. She felt some of the icy water run down her neck and under her shirt. She took the cloth and gently rubbed the paints and powders off her face, checking in the mirror and tending to any missed spots.
“You are sublime, ‘Mera,”
She smiled, patting her face and neck dry, “What are you going to do when your silver tongue runs out of pretty things to call me?”
“I suppose M’lady will have to find other uses for my tongue,” She heard the grin in his voice before she turned to look at him, eyebrows raised.
“Do you have any suggestions for your lady, Ser Blackwall?”
“I think My Lady very well understands what I mean,” There was a gruff slyness to his voice, one that made her heart thunder in her chest.
“Maybe she does,” She bit her lip, very slightly pleased at not tasting paint on them, “Is that what you came up here for?” She took a step to him, not quite pressing to him, he let out a low, shaky breath.
“No, M’lady, there were some things I wanted to say to you but I was... Distracted,” He reached up, hand on the back of her neck, lightly rubbing a spot just behind her ear, “I had wanted to thank you, for accompanying me to that ruin, I wanted-” he sighed, eyes falling to look at her lips.
She smiled, baring her teeth to bite her lip before she snaked an arm around his waist, tugging him a little closer to kiss him. His beard tickled, just a little. She smiled a little and swept her tongue at his lips, as close as she had ever come to begging. He let out a small groan and returned her ardor, calloused fingers tightening on the back of her neck.
He broke away far too quickly, shaking his head as he tried to back away, “No, this is wrong, I shouldn’t even be here.”
“It doesn’t feel wrong,” She smiled a little, all the same loosening her grip on his waist, smiling a little wider when he didn’t back away.
“I want-” He brought a hand up to touch her cheek, “I want you, ‘Mera.”
“I’m not the one trying to run away, Blackwall,” She tilted her head to kiss his palm.
“I will never be what you deserve,”
“You don’t decide what I deserve, Blackwall, I do,” She drew herself up to her full height, the top of his head barely reached her collarbone, “And I have decided that I like you, I have decided that I want you,” she ignored the flaming feeling in her cheeks and met his eyes fiercely.
“There’s nothing I can offer you. You’d have no life with me, Mera,” He paused, looking away from her eyes, “Please just tell me you don’t want this.”
Solmera grinned at him. It was her dangerous grin, the one that tugged her mouth a little more towards the right. It was sharp like the grin of a cat’s or a snake’s. It was the grin that she knew would bring him to his knees if he looked in her eyes.
When he refused to meet her gaze she grazed her hand over his jaw and cheek, “Ser Blackwall, I think I’d rather tell you that I very much enjoy your company, I love to find you awaiting me in my quarters to very slowly remove all of my clothes, I adore hugging you close to me when you smell like hay and woodsmoke, the way your beard tickles my lips when we kiss,” He was looking at her now, his gray eyes were clear and heated, almost like glowing coals.
“We will regret this, My Lady,” His hands came to rest on her hips with a light squeeze.
She smiled, her arms resting on her shoulders as she leaned down to kiss him, warm, soft. She felt him sigh, just a little and she drew back.
“Do you regret that?”
He made a soft noise, like a grumble but closer to a low growl. He pulled her close, nipping her bottom lip before he kissed her in earnest. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she felt him slowly walking her backwards until the backs of her thighs hit the bannister. She sat down, bringing herself a little closer to his height. He pressed up against her between her knees then pulled back, just a little as though to catch his breath before leaning up to kiss at her throat.
“My Lady. ‘Mera.” He whispered it against her skin like a prayer, over and over again, “‘Mera,” he kissed her lips again, softly, soothing. “Do you-?”
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Still trying to warm up out of that writing/art funk I’ve been in. Ran through a random number generator for the Four Word Prompt ask.
Thom and Solmera, the morning after the defeat of Corypheus.
Solmera felt herself waking up, slowly more and more aware of her surroundings. Heavy covers pulled up to her hip, the air whispered against the skin of her back, cool yet not unpleasant. She heard the sound of breathing and blindly she reached for him, her strong arm snaking around his waist and tugging him to press against her. She heard a soft chuckle as she buried her face in his wild, messy hair. He still smelled a little of sawdust and horses, over that she caught the scent of blackberries and sage, her scent. She made a small pleased sound in her throat.
“Good morning, My lady,” His voice was even gruffer than usual, gritty with sleep.
“Mm. Good morning, kadan,” She smiled sleepily, eyes flickering open as he turned to face her, propping himself up on one elbow.
“How did you sleep?” He asked, eyes warm and soft as he dragged his fingers along her cheek.
“Better than I have in a very, very long time,” She chuckled softly, rolling to lay on her back with a languorous stretch.
“Victory suits you well, My lady,” His hand rested lightly on her stomach, thumb tracing one of the many pale scars that adorned her body.
“Tell me, will you still call me ‘My Lady’ even when I’m no longer the Inquisitor?” She tilted her head a little, her hand resting on top of his.
“I can’t imagine a woman more worthy of the title,” He chuckled softly, turning his hand to hold hers, “You will always be my lady, ‘Mera, no matter what.”
She giggled softly, ignoring the light blush she felt creeping on her cheeks, “Will you ever run out of lovely things to say to me, Thom?” His name still felt a little strange when she said it.
“Only if I run out of lovely things to notice about you,” He paused, a playful grin on his face, “So no, I don’t think I will.”
She laughed, sitting up and rolling her head a little to work the stiffness out of her neck. The fire had mostly burned down, only a few faint coals heating the room. Sunlight shattered against the stained glass windows, adorning the floor with slices of brilliant, jewel-hued light. She shook her hair away from her shoulders, raising her arms above her head as she felt a stretch run up her spine. Behind her, she heard a soft, sharp exhale. She looked at him over her shoulder, a crooked smile on her lips.
“You are stunning, My Lady,” He said, his voice low and rough with something that wasn’t sleep, he sat up, eyes slowly tracing the long curve of her back, “I might be the luckiest man in the world.”
“You are,” She grinned, standing and throwing a nightdress on, one horn through, then the other.
He laughed, she heard him throw the covers off, rounding the bed to stand in front of her, tilting his head a little as he looked up at her with a small smile, “We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?”
“That’s putting it lightly,” She chuckled, lightly brushing the back of her fingers along his cheek, “it was worth it, you were worth it, kadan.”
“Maybe one day I’ll believe you,” His hand caught hers, placing a soft, almost ticklish kiss on the back of her hand.
“You don’t need to believe me,” She smiled, stepping a little closer to press against him, his chin resting against her chest, just below her collarbone, “you just need to know that I believe in you, just like you believe in me.”
He smiled a little wider, eyes full of bright, liquid warmth. Solmera leaned down a little to press a kiss against his forehead.
“Ahh, what have I done to deserve you, My Lady?” He murmured, arms wrapping gently around her waist.
“It isn’t about deserving, Thom,” She grinned, resting her arms on his shoulders, chin tucked against the top of his head, “I love you, that is a choice I make every single day. I have no regrets about loving you.”
His arms tightened around her and she kissed his hair again.
“At my feet? I could get used to having you there.”
I came across that particular flirt for Blackwall and I couldn’t get this shit OUT OF MY HEAD. So, I guess the fourth in my apparent sketch kisses series. Okay so this one doesn’t have kisses in it (yet) but I wanted to draw it so there you go.
A little bit of Bladaar fluff for you. Very light, brief mention of menstrual cycles because it fucking happens. Hope you like my little drabbles.
Solmera was stretched out under the coverlet of her bed, propped up on a few pillows. She was surrounded by paperwork, most of it various letters and reports that only needed reading. The ones requiring a reply she set aside for another day. A sharp pain lanced through her abdomen and she sighed, pressing the skin full of hot water closer to her stomach.
She picked up the next letter, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ears, careful not to catch it on her curved horns. This one a letter from some poor Orlesian man expounding on her radiance, particularly that of her largeness and ‘the delicious colour of your bronzed skin’. She laughed, tossing it into a disturbingly large pile of inconsequential letters she’d give to Sera for reasons best left unsaid. That particular pile was weighed down by a wood-carved bee.
Her head cocked to the side as she heard a small, almost hesitant knock on her door. She frowned a little, she couldn’t recall anyone who regularly visited her quarters knocking quite that way. Cullen banged on the door with the side of his first, Josephine rapped lightly with her knuckles, Leliana always knocked precisely three times, clear, like a thrush crashing a snail into a rock.
“Come in!” Solmera called, bundling her hair behind her shoulders in an attempt to look a little less disheveled than she felt.
“My lady?”
She smiled a little too wide, hearing his voice, “Blackwall! I wasn’t expecting you, please come in.”
He came up the steps a little cautiously, glancing around the room before he found her, propped up on the bed, “Are you ill, My Lady?” his voice had taken on a throaty aspect to it like it did whenever he worried over her safety in the field.
“No, just my monthly cycle. It’s particularly severe today so I’m working from bed,” She smiled, then cleared some of the papers, scroll cases, and envelopes into other piles and other places, patting the clear space she made next to herself. “Come, sit with me awhile, unless you had some business I needed to attend to?”
“No, just not sure it’d be decent of me to sit on your bed with you in your nightclothes, M’lady.”
Solmera felt her cheeks heat and she glanced down. He wasn’t wrong, she was definitely wearing a loose, sheer shift with the laces only halfway done up in the front. She glanced up at him through the loose strands of hair that she hurriedly tucked behind her ears. There was a soft curl to his mouth, a low-burning heat in his eyes.
“Lucky for you, this is my room and I think it’d be very decent of you to sit on my bed with me in my nightclothes.” She straightened, patting the bed again.
He chuckled, kicking off his boots at the end of the bed before he scooted over to the appointed place by her side. She put an arm around his shoulders, adjusting the waterskin and picking up a new letter.
“Why did you come up to see me? I don’t recall you ever coming up before,” She said, eyes still on the letter.
“Didn’t seem appropriate before,” She felt him shift a little, his head resting comfortably on her shoulder.
“What makes today more appropriate than yesterday?”
He was quiet for a time, almost long enough for her to finish this letter, “I wanted to see you,” she felt him stroke a stray lock of hair that had made it past her shoulders. “I don’t remember seeing you with your hair down before.”
“I tie it up most of the time, in the field I don’t even think I sleep with it undone. Takes too much time in the morning,” She paused, setting the letter down to lean over and gently kiss his temple, “I’m glad you came up. I wanted to see you too.”
He chuckled, nudging her gently with his arm, “You know where I am, M’lady, you could send for me.”
“It doesn’t feel right to send for you, Blackwall, you aren’t-” She paused, ordering her thoughts, then she sighed, “You are more to me than someone I send for. I send for advisors, teachers, specialists. I send for work,” Solmera pushed her papers aside and turned to face him better, her horns knocked into the headboard a little but she didn’t mind much. “You are not work, you are a great comfort.”
He almost looked sad, something in the way his eyebrows creased a little, the growing warmth in his stormy eyes. He brought a hand up to her cheek before he pulled her down to kiss him. He always kissed so softly, like he was retracing the steps to all the kisses he ever gave.
“You are too kind, M’lady,” He murmured softly, placing a second, shorter kiss on her lips, “but I’m glad I can help ease your burden.”
“More than you know,” She smiled, leaning back on the headboard.
She meant it. He did help more than he knew. Time she spent down in the stables with him was a brief escape from the heavy weight of duty she bore on her shoulders. Time spent with him was strangely rejuvenating, almost like a balm for her tired spirit. Solmera wouldn’t tell him just how much he helped her, just by being who he was. Not because he would disagree, though he almost certainly would, but because of what that could potentially mean for her, for them.
