Chapter Text
She was trapped. Pinned between Pride and Sorrow. The captor at her back was almost impossibly respectful of her predicament despite his participation. Hands steadfast, gripping only her hips, steadily rocking her back and forth. His face pressed against her neck, the slow panting breath the only indication of his desire. Well, not the only indication.
The captor at her front mapped her form freely with his hands as surely as his mouth mapped hers. He greedily sucked in her moans and she could do nothing to keep them from him. Yet even if their hands fell away, she would not escape this.
She was locked to them both and she was in heat.
It had been an unassuming day. Another monotonous rotation of waking, duty, training, and sleeping was all that lay in store for her. The entire Inquisition followed a similar routine, waiting for their enemy to make his next move. Though they found meaning in their preparation- She found no such pleasure. Ill-suited to command, tired of all that had been asked of her, tired of losing herself along the way, exhausted with the constant threat on her life. She wanted it done, over with, no matter the outcome. She wished to disappear back into the wilds should she survive. Though there was no clan to welcome her home, no. That had been her failure, and few seemed to care for her loss. Her clan was now whispers of the forgotten sorrow, voices on the edge of hearing until called upon. She'd reluctantly accepted the burden of the Well of Sorrows, and with it apparently the man named Sorrow. She had thought taking the well would set him free, yet he lingered. She wondered if she managed to live past all this if he would still persist in following her. Not that she'd worked up the nerve to ask him, constantly defeated by that piercing golden gaze of his. That is, whenever she actually caught him alone. The statue of a man was often in the company of Solas these days, the two of them thick as thieves. She did her best to avoid them.
Yet as the sun rose to warm the glacial valley, an undefinable warmth rose in her as well. It was vaguely uncomfortable at first, and it made it difficult to maintain focus on the mountain of reports that always awaited her. If she was truthful though, the reports were terribly dry reading, and difficult to parse on the best of days. But by noon she was certain it was no small irritation. She was overheating- her skin hot to the touch, sweating, and it became difficult to even keep her own thoughts straight, a fog settled over her mind. The voices on the edge of hearing attempted to speak to her, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying. It must be some sickness, a fever... Yet it did not explain the persistent arousal that steadily grew more unbearable. She excused herself from the war room and was met with no protest. Surely she looked as ragged as she felt. Perhaps it would be best to sleep it off. She waved off the advisor's concern, retreating into the hall and hoping her dreams would not be the nightmares that so frequently plagued her rest.
She weakly pulled at the door to the great hall, and dizziness took her as the door swung in by some other effort. Strong hands steadied her. Oh that touch, how long had it been since someone had touched her in even such a simple manner? The warmth in her core flared, and she couldn't stop the soft moan that left her. Her hands flew to her mouth too late to stop it. Mortified, she looked up to apologize to whoever had caught her. Apology himself gazed back. His expression shifted, and if she had bet he couldn't possibly have managed a more serious look than normal- well, she would’ve just lost her wager miserably.
Pinned by that hardened gaze, she had not seen the man that stood at his right. No, she was far too consumed by the noticeable dilation of Abelas' eyes, black swallowing up the harsh glint of gold even as she watched. Only too late did the clearing of the other man's throat announce him, and she flushed further. Embarrassed by her weakness especially so in the combined scrutiny of their company. Solas was always so difficult to read and she could never tell if she managed to live up to the unknown standards by which he seemed to judge others. He seemed to respect her in his own odd way- yet he'd almost always been coldly distant with her. Abelas had made his own stance known the day they met. She was but a shadow to the ancient. The memory of his disdain had effectively kept her from asking all the questions that consumed her. Solas himself had been increasingly, infuriatingly subversive on the topics she wished to discuss of late. It had driven her to seek her own council, frequently hidden away in the underground study- the Vir'abelasan had answers they didn't. Though they weren't answers she found any comfort in. It left her feeling more lost than she ever had been, and it wasn’t something she wished them to see in her.
She straightened up, attempting to hide the tremor in her limbs, ignoring the bead of sweat that rolled down her neck, ignoring the strange scent that met her senses. It was subtle, intoxicating, and it seemed to be coming from them? It didn’t make sense. "Forgive me, I… I'm not feeling well, a fever. Excuse me." She moved to dart past them, yet they blocked her way, Abelas' hand still on her. "She doesn't know?"
Her brow furrowed. Solas sighed, "It seems she does not." Her scowl deepened, "Oh yes, continue to keep me in the dark! What don't I know now aside from damn well everything?!" She reeled, her hand grasping her temple in an attempt to steady the world, "I don't, sorry... I must get... bed. I don’t know what’s wrong with me."
The two men shared an infuriatingly silent look before Abelas swept her up, cradling her against his breastplate. "Oh, oh no, no don't!" It was all the protest she had left, the sudden increase in the magnitude of touch drove her usual stubborn fight out of her. A surge of arousal flooded in to take its place. She buried her face in her hands as the scandalized whispers of professional gossip mongers met her ears. Great- that was the last thing she needed.
By the time they reached the top of her stairs she was panting, and she hung upon the edge of an entirely different precipice. She made a last ditch bid for freedom, fidgeting against the arms that held her, being touched somehow, inexplicably, made it worse. Mercifully he let her go, and far away she heard the lock to her door click sharply. She paced away from the stairs, eager to put as much distance as she could between them as Solas strode in to sink down upon her couch as if he owned the damn thing. It felt like a trap was about to be sprung, perhaps they were somehow to blame for her sudden and perplexing illness.
“Revas, come here.”
“No- you, explain yourselves! What is this? What's happening to me?”
He sighed, appearing to weigh his words. "You feel feverish do you not? An unusual sensitivity to touch, a difficulty in remaining focused? I imagine there is now also the scent, maddening- alluring." He had the full range of her hindered attention. "I yes... How do you know?" He ignored her question barreling onwards with his own, "And the voices of the well have not explained it to you?" She shook her head, her agitation rising at his roundabout way of getting to the point. "There was a moment earlier, but I could not understand their words."
He nodded, finally giving up his pretense and speaking the words that stopped her cold. “Put simply you are experiencing heat. What you are feeling is the time in your cycle where you are most fertile- your body calls for a mate. It is not a sickness.”
She stared at him in disbelief, not missing the condescension in his tone. “What- excuse me?! …You're kidding. Please tell me this is a joke-” She amended, “A shitty one.” Tossing her hands up, she resumed pacing. “This is ridiculous! Heat? Mate? Last I checked I was an elf not a wolf.”
A pointed look met her words, “I wish it were that simple. It seems that taking the Vir’abelasan had an unintended side effect of sorts. It appears to have woken the innate magics in your body that have been lost to your people.”
She scowled at him, tired of his wording- your people. The very connotation carried a deeper disdain than even Abelas normally managed. She couldn't help the mad laugh that issued forth, and she couldn’t bring herself to care that the effort soon had her sinking to the floor, weak. “How is it that two elves who can barely even stand the sight of me, who won't even give me the time of day, have barricaded themselves in my room, only to so helpfully inform me that I'm what? Fertile and horny and that this was once normal?! Why? Why are you here?”
Solas donned a rare darkening look. Yet it was Abelas that answered. "You call for a mate. It is a call that requires an answer. It is a call that affects more than just you."
His voice carried a completely unexpected kindheartedness, yet his words were faintly disturbing. "You are here… against your will?"
"No, we are here for you."
She slumped sideways to the carpet, trying to process what he meant. Failing.
Footsteps, the slight clink of metal- a gauntlet divested. His bare hand met her cheek, gently smoothing the lines of worry she bore. It was almost too much to handle and it came with renewed embarrassment that such a small gesture could provoke such a telling whimper from her. He spoke low, in a tone devoid of the disdain she had expected.
"The first heat is chaotic, if not addressed soon- it may drive you to do something you would regret, or put you at the mercy of others."
"How- how do you even know that I am..."
"We can feel it. In time, if not addressed, eventually those of your kin would sense it as well- though they would not comprehend why. You would be pursued, and not kindly." He gently swept the hair from her eyes, tilting her face to meet his gaze. "Will you permit us to take care of you?"
“I don't have a choice do I?”
Solas snapped, "There is always a choice. You may prefer the one we offer to the alternative." She glanced at the man, biting back on her retort. He was lacking the composure he normally bore, and though he leaned back with his usual vein of confidence it was bereft of his usual relaxation.
“Are there consequences?”
He leveled her with a dark look, "There are always consequences to our choices Revas. I warned you not to take the well."
She bristled, ah so there it was. "Yeah and you didn't want it either- what was I supposed to do?! Leave it to be corrupted? Let what lay within be lost? Let Morrigan take it?! When do we get to stop feeling guilty for losing ourselves Solas? When can we stop being obsessed with the past and live our lives for however long they are?!"
The flinch he didn't hide was almost gratifying. As his agitation waned to thoughtfulness she looked back to the man crouched beside her, now gently stroking her hair. He was all but a stranger to her, and a mystery... Yet, there was now a disarming kindness to him the other had been lacking of late. Solas finally answered more considerately, his voice quiet, "Yes, there are consequences. Should we assist you it will forge a bond of sorts. There is also a high risk of conception. I know of a tea that should be more than enough to prevent it. I will have it sent up. It will likely take several attempts to satisfy the call. If successful, your heat should only last a week."
“Oh...” Her breath hitched. A week... That wasn't at all what she had expected and the hope she had tended of getting this over with quick was dramatically extinguished. How was she supposed to be shut away for a week? She sighed, pressing her face more forcefully against the carpet as the world threatened to spin once more. "A bond? What sort of bond?"
Sorrow answered as he settled down, crossing his legs. “The Elvhen mated for life, though, not usually bound to a single mate as many of your kin prefer. The burden of one's heat was shared among many. Should we succeed, your next heat would call us, and only us.”
“Oh.” She fought the urge to ask them if this was some new twisted nightmare of hers, yet on the off-chance it wasn’t, it probably wouldn’t be sensible to offend them. After all, it wasn’t exactly the prospect of lying with them that bothered her. It was the worry that it was all a joke, some ruse to hurt her in some new perverse manner. She had never truly recovered from the Nightmare's domain, and questioning her reality had long since been an integral part of her day. They probably didn’t need to know that. “And you are both, ok with that?” Not that she was particularly sure she was ok with that, any of it really.
“As I said, the well woke the innate magics of our people. You are not entirely what you once were. As to what else Mythal’s gift has bestowed upon you- only time will tell.”
Her eyes widened as she turned her gaze back towards Solas. He looked deeply uncomfortable with what he just divulged. Our people…? The voices of the well rose up in the clarity of her disbelief, confirming her dawning realization. She was one of them, a sentinel? She had met the old woman guised as the goddess, the demonstration of her control… the knowing look in her eyes. She paled at the thought. Her fledgling service to Mythal had… changed her? That realization was soon dwarfed by the other- Abelas had counted Solas among his kin. He seemed to catch the thoughts coming together in her mind as she stared in blatant shock.
“Yes,” he spoke quietly. “Now you know.”
It all made sense, the impossible things he knew. He had lived them.
As her thoughts spiraled in their ever inward plummet, Abelas gathered her up, setting her in his lap, holding her against his breastplate. It wasn't strictly comfortable, yet it served better than the carpet to anchor her against the cruel tilt of the room. Though it quickly made in-depth analysis of every interaction she'd ever had with the prideful man impossible. The vibrant warmth in her core, the maddening scent that plagued her senses sent her weak with want. It was a cunning distraction.
She took a deep breath. "Yes. Help me, please."
Abelas carried her to the bath tucked away in the small room under the odd little balcony. He set her lightly on her feet, steadying her as he turned the tap to fill the large metal tub. She tried to hide the growing blush as he turned his attention to her clothing, deft hands undoing buttons and laces, peeling her sweat dampened garments from her skin. He waited for her quick nod of assent before unwinding her breast bindings, her hands automatically rising to cover herself. A soft noise of dissent left him, "Do not hide yourself. You have nothing to be ashamed of." The heavy rise and fall of his chest seemed to reinforce his words as much as the heat that adorned his cheekbones. She let him pull her hands away just as she allowed him to tug the soaked cloth of her smalls down her thighs. She braced herself on the edge of the tub, gripping the edge to keep from touching him. It was quickly becoming a challenge to keep her hands from wandering. She looked up at the approach of quiet steps to see that Solas had returned. A small satchel in his hands, a look of softened desire graced his features at the sight of her bared. It was an odd look on him, and not one she ever imagined to actually see there.
She had flirted with him at first, yet he had shown no interest beyond trading cunning compliments. He had politely turned down her attempts at moving beyond that, so she had reluctantly let it go, turning her attention inevitably towards Dorian. And though he had flirted with her quite convincingly, she soon discovered he had no interest either. It stung, but she understood. She'd given up on finding affection after that, pouring her attention into her bitter duties, ignoring what eyes did look her way. Enduring alone, as she always had.
What they now offered seemed far too good to be true. She waited patiently for the punchline, though as each second dragged on it became less and less likely. The sound of metal settling on stone drew her attention. Her gasp flew forth unhindered to see Abelas stripping, unfastening the intricate clasps to his armored legs. His chest bare, no hood, no gauntlets. None of the walls he normally wore. He... wasn't bald either- the shock of silver was an unexpected surprise. The hood apparently hid a long silver braid that cut a swath down the center of his head, the sides shaved close.
Solas shut off the tap, a hand gently taking up hers, the simplicity of the touch all at once broke her of her gaze and tended her faintness. And as he helped her into the bath she wondered how she would ever handle more than that.
She watched, quietly sinking up to her chin as the two men shed their clothes. The tub was large enough for all three of them, yet not large enough that she could avoid being pressed up against them. As they bared themselves before her she tried to avert her gaze, yet her curiosity quickly made it an impossible task. They were quite well endowed, more so than any other elf she’d seen. Her pulse quickened. Her effort to center herself, to focus on staying calm largely failed as they slipped in on either side of her. Her mind lost to the haze in their close proximity, soaps and oils passed back and forth around her, hands caressing, gently scrubbing. Her last shred of focus spent on keeping her hands to herself, she couldn't stop the sounds she made, and she couldn't stop her sudden unaided release.
She cried out softly, biting down hard on her lip, her hands covering her face. The involuntary hitch of her hips sent the bath water into motion, small waves weaving outwards even as her arousal wove through them all. A quiet intake of breath echoed in the small room, soft gasps that sounded more than just two in number multiplied, propagating into a chorus of sighs. Quiet praise answered her echoing call, reassurance as she was held. She didn't come down and the heat only burned hotter.
“I'm sorry... I- I can't help it.”
“Shhh, it is okay Revas, do not fight it.”
She did not know at which point she'd been carried to bed. Only once they had left her side did she realize the balcony doors had been closed, warded against sound. The curtains drawn to darken her room, a myriad of candle lights flickering, casting a soft glow about them. She lay panting, writhing uncomfortably amid her sheets when hands lifted her up to sit. A warm cup pressed to her trembling hands. "Drink this Revas. This is the tea that will prevent it from taking root." She lifted the cup, drinking deep, coughing. It was bitter, and it burned going down. She coughed again slightly as another cup was pressed to her lips. It was sweet, honeyed and she was thankful it washed away the awful taste that had come from the first. She was maneuvered into Abelas' lap. The stiff press at her back startled her even as it ignited her. She quickly devolved into a mild panic, her breath racing as she began to hyperventilate, certain she was about to catch fire. A heated hand lay steady over her racing heart. "Slow your breath Revas, I know it is overwhelming, but you must stay calm." Abelas' carefully even tone pulled her back, and she tried to comply.
Solas returned with the satchel, pulling small bottles from it, setting most of them aside. She watched through unfocused eyes until her gaze was drawn to his erection, startlingly hard. She couldn't look away, transfixed. Then as she noticed the slight bulge near the base- her interest no longer went unnoticed. "Men of this age no longer have it. It is perhaps one of many reasons I could not return your interest. You mentioned wolves- Are you familiar with such physiology?"
She nodded weakly, she had seen wolves in rut while on hunts with her clan. She hadn't thought... Not on a person... "Then it... Will... Uh…”
“Prevent us from withdrawing from you, yes."
She gasped, the edge of a whine as arms wound tight around her, another peak was imminent... She weakly fought Abelas' hold. A warm hand slid to her folds, the wetness already there surprising her- a finger slipped inside, then another stretching her, thrusting gently, and then she shattered. Each escalating cry that fell from her was louder than the last, immobilized, shuddering around the fingers within her. Panting breath filled her ears. Hands shifting her, fingers withdrawing, yet the high lingered. "Revas we cannot wait any longer- to do so would be... Unwise- if we are to remain in control of this." She gave a sharp desperate nod, "Will you permit us to take you in tandem?"
She gasped "At… at the same time?"
"Yes."
She had meant to ask how, meant to ask for clarification, what she said was "Please-"
One vial was oil. She was vaguely aware of it applied liberally to her tight ring and the man at her back. The other she wasn't sure of, more soothing, as it was applied to her folds, probing quickly within her.
And then they lifted her up, and Solas angled himself up against Abelas, his thighs draped over the other man's. Agonizingly slowly they brought her back down, holding her still as she felt the press against her entrances. One sweet, and one slightly stung. Soft words, incoherent to her ears, she fought to relax- hoping that's what they wished. Low groans as they entered. Slowly sinking down over them, her slickened skin slid between their heated forms. Sounds of pleasure she couldn't be sure weren't hers as they slowly filled her. Begging, pleading, her hips finally met theirs and she fell to pieces. Hands clutched at her, the press of lips, a chorus of moans. She lost herself in them, and they in her.
It didn't abate- the constant clench within her. She had slumped limply against Abelas' chest, his hands gripping her hips, keeping her still despite her persistent inward traitorous rebellion. Solas shifted with a groan, settling deeper within her, and it startled her eyes open. He was beautifully disheveled, eyes heavily veiled, a lip firmly captured between sharp teeth. The growing heat spreading across his features sought to outshine her own. Her eyes widened when she felt it, and he leaned in quick, capturing her mouth, anchoring her as the growing press within her threatened to divest her of her consciousness. Her sounds swallowed up as the growing knots within her filled her, stretching her wide around them. She fought to move, to moan, yet she was incapable of either captured as she was. And before long they were securely tied within her. Abelas moaned long and low at her ear, Solas broke off his kiss to bite at her lip. It was all at once too much and not enough.
Shaking words pressed against her lips in apology. "Revas, are you alright? Is this okay?" She whimpered her “Yes”, and he groaned into her mouth. His hands caressed her form freely as a small kiss was pressed to the back of her neck. Abelas moved her. His hands at her hips gently rocking her against them both, the tug of their knots made short work of her. The man that was Pride pulled her forward and he devoured her. The man that was Sorrow leaned in to pin her between them.
Her scream shattered them all. Her release tore through her with potency unmatched by all the came before. Filled as she was, locked to them her frantic hitch of hips accomplished little, save to quickly set off the two men who trapped her. Muscles tensed, hands gripped painfully, a groan, teeth at her neck. Arrhythmic thrusts upward, clashing and she felt the tight throb, the heat of the pulses that flowed forth. Her hands met the chiseled lines of a jaw, her lips met his. She consumed Pride, and he let her.
She gradually regained coherent thought. Their pulses within her slowed, the time between each wave grew longer. Abelas held her up against him. Solas had fallen back to the bed several waves ago, an arm thrown over his eyes as he panted through another pulse. The sight of him stretched out before her as at the mercy of her heat as she was, woke desires in her she didn't know she had. The heat lingered, yet she felt strangely sated for the time being, but no less sapped by what she had been through. Solas' absence at her front left her with the strange intimacy she maintained with Abelas. His touch had been nearly clinical at first, yet now... There was a care in his caress that convinced her to turn her head to look back at the man. The softness in his gaze hadn't been there before. Her gaze dropped to his lips, parted absently, his tongue caught between his teeth. His hand left her chest to tilt her chin up, coaxing her to return his stare. She hadn't expected the kiss. The soft press of his lips drew a moan from her, his tongue hesitant to rush between her parted lips. She met him halfway, leaning into him as best she could from their awkward angle.
In her preoccupation she hadn't been paying attention to the hand that slid to the bundle of nerves. A few soft strokes and he deftly unraveled her once more. His moan filled her as she clenched around them again, and far away she heard Solas echo the sound. His hips rolled and she bucked, causing Abelas to shudder. The strange web of cause and effect they maintained would have been fascinating if she could manage to focus for more than a few seconds. Solas weakly attempted to sit up, the failed movement setting off another chorus of moans. Abelas held her tight, gently breaking off his kiss, leaning them both forward, temporarily pinning her against Solas. With effort he managed to roll them all to the side. She lay snug between them, safe, arms wound around her, a face nuzzled into her neck as another pressed to her brow. She grasped one of Abelas’ hands, threaded her fingers through, winding her free arm around the back of Solas’ neck. Soft murmurs of praise, quiet moans filled her ears as they rocked into her, the position lending itself better to their effort.
She smiled for the first time in weeks, reveling in the ridiculous tangle they made.