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He watched her float into the winter palace, behind all of them, meant to cause a stir. That she did, and not just in the crowd. Her dress was gauzy and pink, but when the light hit it, it lit up with gold sparks. Subtle, as was her taste, but breathtaking. More than enough to make her stand out in a room full of ruffles and gems. She could have come dressed in her armor, covered in dried blood after a battle, and she still would have taken his.
She glanced over to him and gave him a quick smile, intended to keep him from worrying, to let him know she was not scared. However he knew her, and she was terrified. Josephine pulled her to the side and she took her gaze off him as she turned her head. He admired how they pulled up half her strawberry blonde mane of hair, to leave her ears on display, as if to shout out to all of Orlais
“Here is Andraste’s chosen! A Dalish elf, come to save us all!”
A point further driven home by the fact that her vallaslin had been painted over with gold leaf. Not only that, but they had expanded it, instead of Mythal's branches lightly brushing across her cheekbones, but arcing up across her forehead, around her eyes and down her nose, giving the illusion of a mask, without having one there. The vallaslin normally made his stomach turn, seeing his vhenan marked as a slave, but tonight, she was nothing short of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He doubted he would ever see anything come close to her beauty again.
Then he turned his attention back to her outfit. Taking a few steps closer, under the guise of being near to Cassandra, he could see that those delicate, pointed ears he loved so much were studded with gems. Emeralds, rubies, sapphires, all delicate and understated, but there were so many, with a few small golden rings thrown in for good measure, that the whole effect was lavish. Find her a tiara, and by the end of the night no one would question it if she herself sat on the throne.
Then it struck him, if not a tiara of metal and a throne, one of flowers, and she would be the picture of an elvhenan bride. It made his heart ache to think of it, to have this woman be his for all eternity. Millenia upon millennia of their love. He could see it in his mind, Fen'Vhenan, the other evanuris would call her, the wolf's heart. Meant as an insult, but he knows she would claim it as he claimed Fen'Harel, he would whisper it in her jewel studded ear in the dead of night as their bodies came together, hungry for each other.
“Ahem,” Cullen cleared his throat snapping Solas out of his daydream, “we must head inside now” he says, looking visibly uncomfortable as if he knew what was inside his head.
“Apologies Commander” he says, meeting his eyes, realising he had been staring intently at the Inquisitor the whole time, his thoughts likely written clearly on his face. He forgets himself. There is more at stake here than anyone realises.
“I'd be sure to hide your gaze, once the court manages to take their eyes off her, they will be sure to fall on the rest of us” Cullen murmurs, looking over to the inquisitor. Clearly Solas was not the only one affected by her tonight. He fought to control the jealousy that shot through him at the thought. He knew his vhenan had eyes for no other. He still worried about what would come after.
“Do not fear Commander, I daresay I will prove a more apt player of The Grand Game than you, or any of them,” he gestures towards Leliana and Josephine “may realise” he says cooly, maintaining his mask
Cullen looks surprised, but hardens, donning his metaphorical mask as well. None of them had brought actual ones to the masquerade, something else planned by Josephine to cause a stir. He says nothing more, merely falls in line for the procession. Josephine takes notice and gently pulls the Inquisitor in their direction. Josephine brushes past him with a gentle, polite “excuse me!” that is characteristic. Ellana however presses her delicate hand against the small of his back, under the guise of moving past him.
“ar lath ma vhenan” she breathes, mouth barely moving. The courtesans could not discern what she had said, even if they did know elvish. She took her place at the front of the line, and took Grand Duke Gaspard's arm.
He watched her through the night, dancing, flirting, mingling with the courtesans, battling her eyelashes. He thought he would be the one to outstrip the expectations of their party, to play the game better than anyone thought. Seeing her, he could find himself doing nothing more than drinking the fine champagne, and feeling at home, his mind filled with memories of Arlathan. Every time she was near however, he could do nothing but watch her, watching her play the game like she was born to it. Perhaps she had been. Solas still could not shake the lingering thoughts of a wedding, the thought of having his vhenan,
“dar Fen'Vhenan, melanada” some deep, ancient part of him whispered longingly.
Solas blamed it on the champagne.
By the end of the night, his heart had not secured the throne for herself, but instead forced Gaspard, Celine, and the court enchanter Briele into a truce. Not to mention she had brought three new allies into the fold that night. An apostate named Morrigan, A noble she met in the gardens Solas did not remember the name of, and a dowager, a member of the Council of Heralds. Ellana had told him once that Warden Blackwall had told her that she could shake the world to its foundations if she willed it. Here she was, doing just that.
Solas noticed Ellana slip away quietly onto a balcony, throwing him a longing look in the process. He obliged her.
“Before the band stops playing! Dance with me!” he could not keep the joy out of his voice at finally having a moment alone with her. They knew the band would not stop playing for a while yet, this was Orlais of course. Still, Ellana laughed and took his hands. As they danced he rested his head on top of her and his mind turned back to weddings, and wedding nights. When the song was over, he brushed a kiss against the crown of her head, careful not to muss her hair. He retired for the evening, paying his respects to their companions as he left.
Some time later, when the party ended. He was waiting for her in her rooms. They were garish, overdone, much like the rest of the Imperial Court and the people therein. He watched Ellana wipe off the evening’s makeup, the cloth in her hand coming away golden, her tawny vallaslin becoming visible once again. She went to remove her earrings, Solas got up and put his hand on her arm.
“Leave them, ma lath. Come sit by me” he returned to his spot on the bed. Ellana sat down, back to him. He was confused for a moment, then a gentle smile took over his face as he realised what she wanted. With the tenderest of hands, he took down her intricate braids and finger combed through her hair until it once more fell like a silken wave down past her breasts. In that moment, he decided to throw caution to the wind. If he could not give her a wedding, he would give her a wedding night. The wolf took over, and he pounced.
Solas awoke hours later to the sun streaming through the window, his heart sleeping soundly by his side. He placed a gentle kiss to her cheek as he extricated himself from her, drawing a sad noise from her. He closed the curtains against the bright sunlight, and carefully got back into the bed with her, intertwining their bare limbs once more. Once he was sure she was still soundly asleep he pressed his chin to the top of her head.
“Fen’Vhenan melanada” he murmured. May you be the wolf’s heart for all time. Oh, how he ached to make that a reality. Then he stepped into the fade, to meet the wolf’s heart in her dreams. To show her images of castles built just for her, of murals he’d painted, of their children, of earrings and wedding nights.