Chapter Text
Four days after their return from the Western Approach, she came to him in his sleeping quarters.
Solas didn't often use them, as he spent much of his waking and non waking hours in the rotunda. There were times, however, when he desired privacy for his notes and sketches, and times when he simply needed to escape Dorian's incessant pestering. In this case he had sought refuge due to the latter, choosing to sketch some of the sights they encountered in the fade while he reclined in the simple wooden bed that his room provided.
He started at the timid knock that echoed in the small room, until he sensed the familiar pull of his magic calling to him from the anchor as it often did. The Inquisitor had seemed particularly disturbed after the events at Adamant and spoke few words to him on the journey back. He felt it appropriate to give her the space she seemed to require, so he had not elected to seek her out for his own self-serving desire for her presence. Despite that, he felt her absence keenly these past few days, having been spoiled by her previously rapt attention when it came to discussing the fade or other matters of the arcane. It was a spirited side of herself she did not often show, and he had felt privileged to be the one to draw that from her.
In truth, the lack of her companionship when she had bestowed it upon him so readily before, stung. His relief at her finally seeking him out manifested only in the increased pace of his heart rate as he carefully schooled his features into a neutral expression, setting aside the bound parchment and ink.
Solas raised himself slowly, making his way to the door to open it. Ashanna's amber eyes met his own when the door opened, and he could not help but marvel at the way such a small creature could pin him with her gaze as she did right now.
"Inquisitor. Something I can assist you with?"
"May I come in, please?" He could no more deny the troubled look in her eyes than draw breath, and he moved aside to allow her to enter. Despite his trepidation at her obvious unease, he was unable to resist an opportunity to be closer to her.
"You are always welcome here, vhenan." He replied, the endearment releasing as soon as the rest of the Inquisition was shut behind his door and his wards. She seemed to relax slightly at his words, and she moved over to the only piece of furniture in the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I'm surprised Josephine didn't get you a more lavish room," Ashanna remarked after a moment of looking around the small space, her eyes falling on the neatly folded wools and furs he kept on a wooden shelf tacked to the wall.
"She attempted to," Solas said, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards slightly. "But this room suited my needs far better than the more opulent rooms on the upper floors. The close proximation this room has to the rotunda makes it more than adequate for the few times I need to use it."
"I suppose it's an upgrade from sleeping in the wilderness as a hermit, in any case?" She smiled shyly at him.
"I could say the same of you, could I not? I at least indulged in beds at the occasional tavern I'd pass through."
Ashanna smirked, brushing a dark strand of hair from her face. "I can't argue with that. I spent most of my life sharing a sleeping space outdoors with halla, so any room with four walls by default is grander than what I'm used to."
He chuckled at that, a genuine sound that earned a wider smile from her that reached her eyes and eased his nerves. He settled down next to her on the bed as there was no where else to sit in his simple room, the wood creaking slightly at the added weight. Their knees brushed together as he realized how close she was to him at that moment, and he took that time to study her features in greater detail. In their first meetings he had given little thought to her physical appearance, caring only for watching how she dealt with the power of his mark on her hand. He had considered her appearance pleasant at best, but save for his magic tied to her body, otherwise unremarkable.
He was unsure when his perception of her began to shift. Certainly her declaration of protection in the founding days of the Inquisition, when she had barely escaped execution herself was a turning point. It was an attitude he never expected from a Dalish and she began to challenge his preconceived opinions on their behavior that were based on his previous interactions. He was fascinated with her, as she clearly was with him during their late night conversations in his cabin, when she shyly asked him to speak of his journey's into the fade. When he spoke of matters that did not paint her people well she not curse him as a liar, a fool or a madman, as her people before her had done.
He had wanted to earn her trust at the very least, to convince her to give him the orb after it was recovered, but this nebulous thing developing between them was more than that. He was no longer capable of seeing her simply as a means to an end and that had required…considerations.
Now he was seeing her remarkable spirit for what it truly was, making her far lovelier in his eyes than any woman he’d known in his long and sometimes sordid past. Solas found his gaze lingering on the pleasant slope of her cheekbones, her sun-kissed skin, the clusters of freckles that dotted her face and shoulders. He found himself wondering if those freckles spanned the rest of her body. That particular line of thought sent a small tendril curling inside him that was more than inappropriate for this situation, and he clamped down on his wandering thoughts immediately.
"I imagine you didn't come here just to peek into my sleeping habits though." He said finally, clearing his throat.
"No. I-" Ashanna trailed off, seeming to need a moment to gather the words in her head. "I wanted to apologize. I should have come to see you sooner."
“You hardly need to apologize for your actions. As much as I enjoy your company, you are leading an Inquisition and have duties that require your attention."
"It wasn't my Inquisition duties that kept me away." Her eyes darkened as her expression turned serious.
"It was a trying experience for all of us who walked through the nightmare demon's realm. And you were the one to deal with the fallout of the actions of the wardens; it would be burdensome for anyone. For me, it was more fascinating than-"
"I was avoiding you on purpose, Solas," she blurted.
He didn't respond at first, as he was surprised at the sudden flare of emotion in his chest. The thought that she didn't want to be around him hurt him more than he would have expected.
"The nightmare demon." She continued, staring at a spot on the wall rather than him. Her eyes finally flickered back to his, the anguish behind them constricting his throat. "Called you harellan."
Ah. Of course.
Harellan. Traitor to one's blood. Vile trickster. One of the most offensive words that a Dalish could hurl at another. In his case the insult ran far deeper than she could imagine.
His chest rapidly grew tight as his heart fluttered wildly within his ribcage, but he controlled his features to betray no reaction that she would find perceptible. He should have realized it was merely a matter of time before she asked about it; even the broken language spoken by the Dalish would be able to pick up on that word, even if he was reasonably certain the dialect spoken by the demon would have masked the true meaning of its words to her.
"Ah," he breathed, looking down at his knees rather than her face. He was silent a moment to contemplate his next words. He did not desire to lie so directly to her, yet he saw no way around it. Certainly he could not utilize the truth.
But yet again she surprised him; bringing her hand up in a sweeping motion to get his attention.
"You don't have to say anything. I'm not going to force you to tell me if you don't want to," She murmured quietly. "I mean, I wanted to at first. But it wouldn't be right."
"Ashanna..."
"I was upset. That word…” she hesitated. “ It brought up some unpleasant memories for me.” Her lower lip quivered while her fingers absent-mindedly picked at the leather of her leggings. "You're not responsible for what happened though."
"You show me a kindness I do not deserve," Solas said quietly, his voice rough from the effort to quell his rising discomfort.
"Don't say that!" She exclaimed heatedly, turning to look at him directly and raising on her knees to bring her head level with his. Her slim hands grasped the side of his face to turn his gaze onto hers, letting him see the same determination in her face he saw months ago in haven, when she vowed to keep an apostate stranger from harm.
"I don’t know what occurred in your past to cause you to wander alone. But, your reasons are your own and I will not demand an explanation if you do not seek to give one willingly."
“You do not know-“
I won’t let you die alone, lethallin,” She whispered fiercely, and if he hadn’t already been sitting Solas was certain his knees would have buckled.
It was a promise as honest and pure as her own affections. Solas hated himself more in that moment than he ever had for all his other mistakes, for allowing her to make such a promise she would never be able to keep. It was more than being elvhen and having such a disparate lifespan; she knew not of what she was promising to the man who birthed the word harellan.
He would die alone. This fact was inevitable.
But he would not die unloved. That was far, far more than he deserved. Indulging himself with her was purely selfish; would she offer her feelings as freely if she knew his true nature? Would she offer her affections to the evil trickster that was responsible for her people living like shadows in the forests of a world dominated by shemlen?
She might, a small part of him whispered. She would hold you and call you by your true name. She may not be beholden by a childhood cautionary tale.
He was all too aware of such tales; repulsive stories the Dalish told of the Dread Wolf tricking and seducing young Dalish virgins. Ashanna would of course have been subjected to such stories growing up; and as open minded as she was, could he really expect her to think to be anything but betrayed if she were to know the truth of his nature?
She would be furious at best, terrified and hostile towards him at worst. The idea of her cowering in fear at his feet was the one that sickened him the most, and more than once a conniving demon seized upon that image during some of his darker times in the fade.
It would be kinder in the long run. But he had been so alone, for so long, and each curious question and warm smile had chipped away at his defenses until he was raw and starving for any scrap of affection she would offer him. She had a power over him that he craved as much as it terrified him.
Solas didn’t recognize the strangled sound that escaped his throat until she caught it with her mouth, her lips colliding with his in a kiss that stole the air from his lungs. When she pulled back he could feel a wetness on his cheeks he knew was not his own.
And then he was kissing her again, because it was the only thing he could think of to stop her from shedding tears for his sake. A sob broke free when they parted for breath so he kissed her harder to silence it, bruising her lips as they tumbled back to the bed. He kissed her like a man drowning, desperate and needy for the relief she offered like air as she clung to him. He kissed away the tears forming at the corners of her eyes and followed the wet trails on her cheek, until he was licking away the saltiness on her red and swollen lips.
But even after erasing the evidence of her tears with his mouth, he was unable to stop the decline in his self control. Her hands came up to clutch at the back of his head and neck as she met his desperate press of lips with her own, her tongue sliding along the seam of his mouth and making him shudder in her grasp.
"Solas," she breathed as he moved his attention to the side of her neck, licking the pulse that was jumping wildly at her throat. The breathless hitch in her voice sent a jolt of pure desire running down the length of his spine that left him dizzy, wanting. Her hips lifted against his, rubbing against his rapidly hardening erection, and it was all he could do to control the instinct to rut against her like an animal. He pressed his forehead against hers and sucked in a deep, shuddering breath to collect himself.
This was...this was happening all too fast. They were too far too emotionally compromised to take this step at this time, and furthermore, it wasn't right for him to-
"Stop thinking," Ashanna pleaded, holding him behind the ears tightly as if she was afraid he would dart away at any moment. "I want this. I want you."
"Vhenan," He croaked, the endearment both a warning and a plea to continue. Her words brought a flush to his cheeks; her desire for him was flattering in a way he thought he was long past.
“Isalan hima sa i’na." She replied, angling her head up so she could leave a trail of soft kisses along his throat that made him shiver through his woolen tunic.
It was the elvhen on her tongue that broke his meager resistance; the ancient words making his blood sing for their lost homeland where such words were spoken by every elf.
“Juveran na su tarasyl,“ he whispered hoarsely, his hesitation melting away as he claimed her lips once more.
~~~~~~
Elvish Translations all from Project Elvhen
Isalan hima sa i’na. - I lust to become one with you
Juveran na su tarasyl - I will take you to the sky