Gaiety - A Solavellan Oneshot
by Artemis, a Wyrd Sister of Thedas.
Posted in honor of Dragon 4ge Day.
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The memories curling at the edge of the Fade were strong in the Emprise du Lion.
Remnants of a time forgotten haunted the shadows of crumbling fortresses while the children of the villages played under the watchful eyes of relics devoted to gods whose names they did not know. Where once the lost elven nation thrived now occupied spires of crackling scarlet crystals thrumming with sinister power, taking root in the cold earth and in the hearts of men, turning them to crazed zealots mad with the song of corruption whispering promises of power.
The snow crunched beneath Solas’ feet as he followed the Inquisitor past ice-covered towers and looming, barren trees. The chill in the air turned the breath from the entourage to clouds and tinged the tips of their ears a rosy hue rivaling that of a sunburned nug. Glistening specks of crystalline latticework danced throughout the grey sky before falling silently to the ground, pulling an earlier memory of Kialla’s surprised remark of the quiet in the mountains of the Emprise to flit across Solas’ mind, and a fleeting smile crossed his features.
Despite the deceptively serene landscape of the area, it was anything but. Solas could feel the energy of dark forces at work, simmering beneath the quiet facade presented by the abandoned elven fortresses. Memories tugged at the surface of the Fade throughout the ruins of his people, while the lonely howling of wolves in the distance was rivaled only by the howling of the wind past his ears.
He would rather not linger here.
As the group trekked through the near pristine powder toward their destination, Solas’ mind wandered further. He pondered Kialla, unwittingly thrust into a position of power and influence over a magnitude of frightened and desperate people. The name of “Herald” carried significant weight in Thedas as of late, and garnered her a great amount of attention that she seemed indifferent to at best on some days.
And there was the Anchor. In his days keeping watch over her while she lay unconscious closely following the catastrophic events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, he had contemplated the drastic turn of events. Initially, he had been perplexed, and wondered at how the seemingly ordinary Dalish woman could have possibly survived receiving the Anchor at all, accident or no.
And then she woke up, fought by his side, effectively putting the Anchor to use, and tirelessly asked him question after question plucked from an endless flood of curiosity. For a moment that dissipated rather quickly, Solas was hesitant to reveal anything about himself to her, but he saw that sparkle of wonderment in her eyes as he spoke of the Fade, and soon he was speaking of the grace with which she moved in battle before he hardly had the thought to consider the gravity of the words that tumbled from his lips.
Never before, in all his many years, had he ever felt —
A shock of startlingly cold struck him mid-thought, just behind his ear.
It was all the man could do to blink and sputter as the snow fell from his head to creep beneath his cloak and slither down his neck. Through his surprise, Solas heard a soft giggle emanate from somewhere nearby, and he scanned the trees for the source while doing his best not to squirm as he wiped the icy water picking up speed down his neck.
A pair of impishly gleaming blue eyes caught his, and Solas glimpsed a coy smirk on Kialla’s lips before the Dalish woman ducked back behind her tree trunk. She dipped down to scoop up another handful of snow, quickly shaping it in her gloved hands before sending it soaring in his direction.
This time, however, he had the mind to sidestep the attack, so that the tightly packed snowball barely grazed the tip of his ear as it flew past and landed some short distance away from his feet with a quiet Plat!
Pieces falling together swiftly in his mind, Solas leapt into action, gathering his own projectile from the blanket of snow. He waited for just the right moment, when she popped out from behind her tree once more with a new pile of snow in hand, and then let it fly.
The problem with his plan, however, was that Kialla was a skilled rogue, and her reflexes were sharp. As soon as she saw his arm wind back to throw, she disappeared from the line of fire. Solas’s own snowball whizzed right past its intended target, flying through the trees to hit none other than the group’s resident Seeker, landing dead center on the back of her head.
Cassandra whirled around, hand already at the hilt of her blade, brown eyes darting wildly around in search of her attacker. Her dark brows creased when she found none.
A sputter of laughter burst from Varric, just a few yards away, drawing her attention, and the woman frowned deeply. The dwarf guffawed heartily, clutching at his belly.
“You — you should have seen that, Seeker!” Varric cackled out when he finally had to stop for air, bending over his knees. “Your face!”
In the midst of his enjoyment at her expense, Varric missed the scowl Cassandra wore, and the tightly packed snowball she sent sailing toward his hunched frame until it nailed him on the crown of his head.
Oh, there was no turning back now.
In a matter of moments, the friendly snowball fight escalated into utter chaos. All manner of dignity was shed and abandoned as it rapidly became every man for himself, taking cover behind trees, snowballs flying left and right, and delighted, near-childlike laughter ringing out like bells through the frozen air.
While Cassandra and Varric were preoccupied in their own battle, Solas took the opportunity to hunt down his sly beloved. Shielding himself behind the trunk of a rather thick pine, he waited, eyes carefully scanning the area for any trace of her familiar evergreen cloak, or her pale blonde hair, or the tip of her treasured longbow.
However, the Dalish-trained hunter was, evidently, exceptionally elusive.
A small and subtle movement in his line of sight caused a light dusting of powder to stir from the snow covered branches, and Solas could feel himself tense, senses honing with anticipation. Another miniscule rustle in the tree kept his eyes glued forward, snowball ready and waiting in his hand while his arm hovered on standby to throw as soon as the time was right.
Then once more, a flash of movement in the branches that disturbed the snow, and his arm jerked back to wind up his throw...
...and a squirrel emerged from the branches, scurrying down the long tree trunk.
Brow creasing, the mage paused, and in his confusion almost missed the quiet rustling of fabric and quick footsteps approaching from close behind him. A pair of hands enclosed over his eyes and pulled him backward as he grunted in surprise, snowball dropping to the ground where his feet had been seconds before, quickly forgotten.
A few awkward and fumbling steps backward, and the hands vanished from his eyes to spin the mage around, meeting Solas with those same impishly smiling blue eyes that he so adored, dizzying him in a very real sense.
He only had time to sputter out a dazed, “Vhenan, what are—” as Kialla pinned him against the nearest tree and captured his lips with her own.
Her mouth was hot, a direct contrast to the bitterly cold nip in the air. The kiss sparked a flame to life between them, and it didn’t take long for Solas to catch up after his unfinished question, reaching up to take her jaw in his hands while simultaneously lessening the distance between them. They explored each other’s mouths for what seemed like hours, until their heads were spinning and they were forced to come up for air, locking eyes as their breaths mingled.
Not a minute later, a burst of cold quite literally smacked them in the face, effectively and abruptly pulling them back to reality as a high-pitched cackle rang out from somewhere behind the trees.
It seemed being taken by surprise was becoming the theme of the day, Solas noted in equal parts mild amusement and indignation as he, yet again, wiped his neck dry of snow with his sleeve, working to repress a scowl.
“Sera?” Kialla finished his thought.
“I wasn’t aware she was accompanying us,” Solas remarked, brow raised.
Kialla, at least, looked just as bewildered as he did, this time. As she shook her head with a quiet laugh, Solas felt his own features soften from annoyance into an affectionate smile. His hand reached out, seemingly of its own accord, to brush back a stray blonde curl from her cheek, tucking the strand behind her long, pointed ear.
The simple gesture was so unexpected and gentle that a light tinge of pink dusted Kialla’s cheeks. She smiled, lashes fluttering as the woman looked down bashfully.
“We should... probably keep moving.”
“Yes,” Solas agreed, running his thumb along her cheek. “Of course, Vhenan.”
As their eyes returned to one another, he couldn’t help but capture her lips once more before setting out, this time in a sweet and chaste kiss that was interrupted only by the grins that neither one of them cared to smother.
