#sollan

“You greet all your friends like that when they come home? Or just the best one?”

“No, no. Just him.”

Between getting Covid and this chapter ending up twice as long as originally intended (I had very important things I needed to make sure were communicated, okay?), this took a hot minute to get out. But, I hope it was worth the wait, because after 128197 words... it happens. 👀 Here be a snippet right before it all goes down:

“You know that I’ve got a good memory, ma fen, you know that. I don’t forget things easily,” She was back to nicknames, it would seem. “Well, do you know what Garrett Hawke told me when he first arrived?”

Had she scooted closer? No, that was just the way the shadows cast across them from over the wall. Surely, there was no other explanation.

“Tell me.”

“He told me,” A snort. A snort! Mellan covered her nose with one hand and squeezed Solas’ with the other, eyes closed and face cast to the ground. “He told me, that my symptoms - oh, you won’t believe a word of this - that they mean, that I’m smitten with you!”

Solas’ eyes felt wobbly.

Ah, well--that was a new sensation. He wasn’t altogether sure he’d felt that before; not in a context like this, at any rate.

Give him the credit of maintaining his composure, the world within him shook with greater violence than a Titan fighting against the bonds of--

Is this how adolescents felt? Real, true, young people? Was it always so stifling hot?

“Oh, and Solas? Solas, the best part. You’ll find this funny,” Did she even realize he wasn’t laughing? Of course not, ragged hand covered giggling mouth and she hadn’t looked up to him once since she’d started. Was he to stop her? Let her continue? Did this manner of ‘announcement’ count towards that finish line he had promised he would meet her at one day? Was this the correct path?

Ironically, she was a balter from his own path, but an enrapturing one that left him dumbstruck with each new revelation of hers. Like an impatient reader he wanted to skip ahead just a few of her pages. Have her spoil the story and tell him what lay ahead.

“He said that,”

‘What comes next?’

“That you were a ‘lucky guy;’ that we were more than dear friends.” Another giggle and their shared fate was sealed. “As if, oh, my goodness, as if you were smitten with me as well!”

Mellan shook her head for a final time, before, at last, she raised it up to meet Solas’ eyes.

“But, that would be silly, wouldn’t it?”

She hadn’t actually thought much on what she expected to see when she opened her eyes. Perhaps a smile, a shared laugh, but not a stare. Not a look from her friend that held something deep and lurking just beneath the surface of murky waters.

Not something that made her wonder if the petname she’d given him of ‘fen’ was a bit too apt, and that if she moved too quickly, some emotion would snap; and oh, dear, Mellan was nowhere near ready for whatever that emotion might be.

“W-Wouldn’t it?” Had she actually spoke aloud, or simply thought the words? Mellan supposed she might have mouthed them, let them fan across her teeth. It took a real gulp of purest bravery for her to truly speak heartily again. “S-So, um, academically. Academically… my symptoms.”

‘Spirits, even my nose feels like it's on fire; I probably look like a tomato to him. Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Why couldn’t I just learn the blasted dance and be done with it all?!’

“Thought? Your thoughts?”

Peculiar, even by their standards, Solas held a single chuckle in his chest. Barely hiding his lip, he rested fingers upon it to shield the smallest smile as he turned to think.

“My thoughts,” he began, a twinge of well-measured mirth to his tone. “Are that Ser Hawke is far more attentive than I gave him credit for.” And that he could now confirm that he had been a right prick to the man, but that was neither here nor there at this point. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mellan take a gulp for air, most likely absorbing the information he had technically-not-confirmed - and, therefore, was still following his own personal set of rules - but, also not at all denied. The blessing was that he knew she was smart, and that she knew precisely what he was getting at, all with his plausible deniability still perfectly intact.

He still was just as much of a prick, wasn’t he?

“A--hm,” She nodded, readjusting herself yet again, back straightening. Solas could see how her shoulders rolled back beneath her braids like branches beneath leafy willows, how her chest rose and fell across the skin exposed above her ill-fitting tunic. “I see. So, then, I suppose you are suggesting that Garrett’s observation was, ah, correct?”

“No, I am declaring it.” To him it was not a subject for debate.

Read the rest here on Ao3!

I hope you guys are excited and enjoy because holy moly I’ve been fucking amped for this jerhbuerbgueibguearburbygber I really hope it was worth the wait and this chapter is enjoyable D’x Love y’all!!

Tags below:

Copied this over from my Ao3, but I am SO SORRY its taken me so long to put out a new chapter. After attending a friend's wedding, I immediately went into surgery, and recovery has been difficult ever since.I still am not fully recovered, but my beta-reader surprised me and let me know that this chapter was finished, and I'm so happy that I get to share this one with you all!

I hope you enjoy it, and again, I'm so sorry for keeping you all waiting. <3

Chapter 26: A Fool’s Errand

Felandaris did little to dull the scent that somehow still pulsed through Mellan’s nostrils as headily as fresh bread seeping in across the threshold via the not-so distant kitchens.

The scent was plaster.

Plaster, with a hint of paint beneath fingertips. Fingertips that crushed ferns beneath them in one hand, and in the other cupped her face. The sour scent of magic, acquired and electric. A familiar sweater’s warmth in its well-loved care, washed in a home-brewed soap but holding a natural aroma that lingered with its age.

‘Mellan,’

Her toes curled to the floor and the elf let out a little ‘yip!’ of pain as she hit a splinter where the wood cracked to betray her. ‘Wake up,’ it seemed to say, unknowingly echoing the very words of the one she was fantasizing over.

Fantasizing! Her!

Of all people; she hardly even thought herself capable of it. It wasn’t as if anyone else would think she could.

Turning herself on a coin to plop her rear upon the wood, Mellan shimmied her knees to block out her chin from the candlelight. She’d been practically salacious; what would her Keeper say if she saw her like that?! Wasn’t that how the ladies - she didn’t even really like being called a lady! - in Varric’s books acted… she certainly felt like she was blushing like the Seeker was when she read them - it wasn’t as if Mellan didn’t spy that wee chestnut.

Worrying at the loose ties of her tunic, she snuggled her forehead deeper to bump her legs. Then again, did she care much anymore? Now, that was a truly scary thought; a thought she really ought not to be having. First she was struggling to care for this nasty Inquisition business, but now what her Keeper may think of her actions?

Well, what about Aislin?

Oh, Aislin would hate this. Hate, hate, hatehatehate--

‘You know, I don’t recall asking anyone’s sister’s opinions…’ On the topic of dreams one failed to forget, eyes she hadn’t realized she’d squeezed shut sprung open to the sound of an echoing chant in the recesses of her memory. 

‘What are yours?’

Slow arrow.

Mellan lifted head and hand, tracing the shape of the bracelet in the air with her pointer finger. Silver and light, near mockingly so, much like the glinting of his lavender eyes.

Lavenders. For loyalty. Devotion.

“I liked it,” she admitted to the man in her mind’s eye, whispering on the wind, so sure that only the cobwebs would hear her. “I don’t want to forget it. I--”

‘I’m afraid,’ she thought, before another remembrance returned:

‘You feel safe, don’t you?’

“More than I know I should.” Something was amiss, something remained unspoken and more than her own cowardice was to blame. Everything returns to the dirt after it is born, and eventually in it is forgotten, until it is one with the Fade, and lingers.

That should not scare Solas, but something in it did, and he seemed determined to shield her eyes from it like it should blind her if he not.

‘What of this lingers that you do not wish I know, ma fen?’

‘You’ve yet to guess, Mellan.’

Braids fell hard and unforgiving, like chunks of snow off of shaken trees, as she leapt down and shook her head all in one fell swoop. She would, she would; she was nothing if not a diligent researcher. Better yet, she was one that was, perhaps, developing something that her precious books had that, until recently, she’d so greatly lacked:

A spine.

Read the rest Here on Ao3!

Again, I’m so sorry that its taken me so long to publish this, please be patient with me as I continue to heal up. <3 I love you all so much, thank you all for being so supportive of me, it means so much. 

Tagging the usual suspects to see the goodies:

ACK sorry I’m late!! But, I’ve finally had time to actually update you guys with something! :D Thank you so much for the tag, @layalu! 

Since the last chapter (and Solas and Mellan FINALLY FUCKING KISSING DEAR GOD) the two are developing in their own dorky way! (But don’t worry, weird Fade shenanigans will occur directly after this, because they’re not allowed to rest~💖

Goodness, what trouble. Days felt like weeks in the buzzing hearts of elves - for those who approved and disapproved of these new developments alike.

It was not as if things were kept secret for long, as much as Solas and Mellan both would have preferred. However, one running after the other during a night of dancing, only to be spotted later by one of Cullen’s men, escorting each other arm-in-arm to the lady’s room with flushed faces… well, assumptions had to be made, no matter how innocent they could swear their actions were!

In reality, nothing further happened, of course; other than a new nightly routine that never failed to send Mellan dragging her body down the door as soon as it was closed, face in her hands and feet smacking against the floor in violent, childish glee.

It had already been fairly commonplace that the scholars’ nights would end with the pair burning the last of the midnight oil, or down to the last flickering wicks of candles that begged for death, and it would only be then that they would concede to slumber. Solas would accompany Mellan back to her bedroom - a place he now actively seemed to avoid during the evening hours since that night of dancing; perhaps their shift in status had marked a shift in his mind for what counted as a polite barrier as well? - and they would continue chatting all along the way.

It would only be upon reaching that sacred threshold that both would take pause, and a new dance was performed. 

Solas would smile, in that kind and patient way that he always did, but now the look held an ulterior meaning; one reserved for Mellan and Mellan alone. She’d answer it back in kind, large eyes meeting his in something like a nod as she’d glance to his lips, the tracest amount of a grin dabbled on hers. A playful secret held behind her blushing cheeks, Solas would lean in as if to whisper in her ear with a bit of added gossip, instead taking her chin in tender hand.

Even if her lips were over-bitten to looking beestung, Solas swore they were kissable, and seemed bound and determined to prove it through demonstration. It wasn’t as if she would accept a lecture in this particular area.

Mellan would lean into his touch each and every time, tipped-toes hoisting themselves up as far as they would go, and it would only be her vice grip to his necklace that kept her from falling. With each goodnight kiss she sunk further into him, any worries she might have temporarily melting away like the wax of their faded candles, even if just for a moment.

I feel so bad for what I have planned for them oh my god

ANYWAY tagging my lovelies because I haven’t seen them in a while, show me what you’re doin!! 

What if I just dropped this part of the next chapter with zero context.

What then.

“Call me ‘hart’ again.” A demand, but not one born of anger or fear. No, Mellan was looking to her feet less and less, even as she criticized him, and the creature was treading on becoming just as smitten as she was arduous.

“I thought you liked ‘imp.’” Solas exhaled, the scope of the room narrowing less to a place full of people and more to a concept of a room featuring Mellan. “You have to admit, it suits you.”

“Humor me?”

“I see…” he acquiesced with little turbulence. “Ma heart.”

“Again.” The determination she held within her throat before vanished by a hair, her shoulder blade within his hand wilting just so. Like fragile paint chipping away in the rain, so was her resolve to stay away from waters she should not test. 

She’d read a story once within the library of a maiden laying cursed in dreaming due to touching a forbidden spinning wheel. Mellan felt as if she understood the princess’ plight a bit more now. What would be the harm in just a little prick?

“This is an odd bit of a grounding exercise,” Solas spoke softly, not wanting to arouse suspicion in those around them should his comrade need to make a hasty retreat. “Mellan, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Please, I just,” She shook her head, no real explanation given. “I want to hear you say it.”

Now why did that feel like a declaration? Was it the way she looked up to him whilst she said it? He was meant to be the one grounding her, and he was going to end up doing a poor job of it if he kept staring dumbfoundedly down at her like he felt he was now. Yet, her eyelids looked heavy, resting on her flushed cheeks. Her shoulders were slowly wilting right along with his ability to stand up straight, and he muttered “Focus,” as if it were to her, to keep her mind on the dance, when he was clearly stumbling right along with her at the snap of her pretty little bruised fingers.

“Ma heart,” he vowed to the causation of his ruin, and bent himself to lean closer to her face than he should, should he remain a gentleman.

“Again--” 

“Mellan,” He veered off course to keep her honour intact, and whispered into pointed ear. “The music has stopped playing, ma heart.”

Anyway Happy Solstice goodnight I’m not sorry, muah 💋

Tagging lovelies:

Thank you so much for the tag, @in-arlathan​!

I’ve got a wee bit of the next chapter of Dueteragony to share today; while recovering I’ve been scribbling down bits of the next chapter when I’m not too tired, and I hope that this comes out okay! Thoughts on it would be greatly appreciated. 💖 (especially since I’ve farted it out and I’m not sure if it makes sense ergnierbheir)

Simply put: why in the world were there more than three people in this barn?

At the promise of a show, random gents from across the Inquisition’s ranks had met within the barn and were now conversing amongst themselves. And with Blackwall, Mellan supposed; most everyone there guffawed out with a distinctly masculine tone that she’d definitely heard echoing boisterously out from Skyhold’s tavern. Had he invited all of them? Was it because Dorian told Blackwall about this? He had to have, surely? She had to find someone’s shoulders to place her betrayal on.

Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, the smallest figure within that dusty space slowly made her way backwards towards the door. Waiting outside had been a better idea, anyhow.

“Ah, there’s her teacher!” Dorian called with a sudden clap, and swiftly, all eyes were honed in on Mellan - or more, the presence behind her. Before she even had the chance to turn around, Solas had an arm draped delicately across her shoulders; one part as to keep from startling her with his appearance, the other as to guide her back inside, simultaneously foiling her escape.

“Right, then. Took you long enough, didn’t it?” Dorian teasingly chided his fellow mage as he continued to herd Mellan deeper into the space, the men around them parting to make way. She hated every second of it, and he had to have known that. “And it certainly wasn’t to spruce up your attire for something more fitting for the occasion.”

“I believe everyone would prefer I save that for said occasion.” Solas answered in kind, the smallest hint of his own playful smirk marking his face. “I wouldn’t want to upset your sensibilities.”

“I’m sure,” the huffed he received in reply, having been had, before Dorian turned his back and called out among the men. “Right, now one of you did bring a lute as requested? Or am I going to have to simply count over all of you?”

Ah, so the crowd was partially his doing; some of the blame was covered. Still, Mellan wriggled slightly beneath Solas’ arm as instructions were doled out to the group, and made a silent vow to make several pointed steps onto the other elf’s feet in protest tonight. That, and get him to actually speak of what happened the night before.

Just because she wanted to tear her own hair out at the current predicament she found herself in, didn’t mean that her ‘teacher’ was getting out unscathed, either. She would drag him down right along with her if she had to. She wasn’t the one named after ‘pride.’

Hey, everyone! :D Its been a minute!

Thank you so much for the tags, @varric-tethras-editor​ & @palepinkycat​, I’ve actually got something a little... possibly juicy to share? A little... spicy, but not in a hot way??

I DUNNO MAN, THERE’S A LITTLE BIT OF UNCOMFY HAPPENING HERE HEEHEEHOOHOO...

Another owner of pointed ears had come shrieking from nearby, and Mellan tucked herself further into the gloom of a particularly shady parapet in order to avoid conversation with their owner. Their owner, who she soon learned, was not alone.

Interesting.

“Is this a trick?” Sera came hollering, the roll of her bright eyes hissing from her tongue as a much smoother voice attempted political civility. Or a compliment.

“Hardly. But, it is an opportunity,”

‘Solas,’ Mellan thought with a canoed brow. He was not one to converse with the infamous Red Jenny. At least, not by choice.

“You have already divided your group's membership. That is wise,” he continued as the pair paused in their walking. It seemed Sera had finally stopped in her carefree gait and was actually giving her elder a listen, maybe even consideration. “No one cell can betray all your secrets…”

Mellan knew full well that Solas knew a great deal about a great many things; now that was not exactly a secret. It was, after all, the original catalyst to their now blossomed friendship. Yet, now she could not help herself, and found her own ears tilted further towards this particular flavor of word that slipped forth off of the man’s honeyed tongue.

“Where d’you get all this, then?”

“Do you wish to be unnerved by another tale of my explorations of the Fade?”

‘Wherever indeed, ma falon,’ Their discussion’s stowaway mulled. If to be unnerved was to learn more than to be tsk’d away by simple explanations of ‘But the Fade!’ then unnerving Mellan would take with utter glee. She had another hand-waving from the advi--Aislin’s advisors, thank you, kindly. She needn’t more from him.

Not when he spoke so freely of ‘weakened aristocracy,’ and ‘removing others if necessary.’ Solas was now speaking to Sera of the possible ‘dirty work’ she and her Red Jenny organization may have to do if she truly wished to create lasting change, and he was talking to the woman as if he held experience.

She felt something bubbling from the bowls of her gut like an overflowing cauldron, and the concoction within her chest was not one she had truly felt before.

She looked at them, she looked at Solas fervently asking Sera if her goal was to change the political structure of her land, and Sera’s lackluster response of confusion at his supposed beratement… and Mellan felt ripened jealousy.

This next chapter is gonna be A TRIP... >:3

Tagging absolute A+++ nerds of my heart: