Work Text:
It had been hours, but Ishalé wasn’t ready to stop. Her toes ached in her pointe shoes, screaming for a break, decrying her need for perfection. The song ended and she almost flopped down from the pose, her knees shaking from overuse.
She walked off the dance floor for water, and sat to take off her shoes. Sweat coated the inside of her toe pad, and her toes were bright red, almost numb but just awake enough for the pain to register. She grabbed her chilled water bottle and gently pressed it to them, cursing out loud at the sudden shock of cold. Luckily, it was late enough that no one was around to hear her.
Ishalé had been working for more than a year with Skyhold Dance, one of the most prestigious dance companies in Thedas. It was crazy enough to be accepted, but she had been given high billing role in the next ballet. She couldn’t be anything less than perfect.
What made her most nervous was the pas de deux.
She had never done one before.
She and her dance partner, a friendly and talented man named Dorian, had only just met earlier that day. Dorian was perfectly nice, he even joked around with her to calm her nerves, but there was something about having to dance a duet that twisted Ishalé’s gut. It was bad enough to possibly mess up a solo dance, but messing up with a partner? She’d ruin more than just her own performance.
Ishalé and Dorian had tried a few steps, but Ishalé’s nerves had gotten the better of her. They would continue the next day.
“Hopefully our ingenue will be more ready then,” Madame Vivienne had said. Whether it was meant to be cold or not, Ishalé felt shame flooding her senses.
Maybe she should have asked Dorian to stay and practice with her, but she couldn’t imagine him wanting to spend any more time with a flighty, neurotic mess of a ballerina.
Ishalé pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, internally chastising herself, until she heard soft music coming from another room in the studio. She had thought it was late enough that she would be alone at the academy; she stood and walked towards the next room to peer through the window. She didn’t recognize the dancer inside, but she would definitely remember them now.
His movements were as fluid as water, as if he were dancing on a breeze. It was almost hypnotic. He looked up for a moment to spot his turn and Ishalé felt a shiver run down her spine.
His eyes were like storms, focused and sharp as he moved. Ishalé didn’t even notice that the song had ended when he landed the turn. His stormy eyes turned to her and she almost jumped. With a smile, he gave her a little wave. She felt really dumb, but she waved back before realizing she could just walk in and introduce herself.
Ishalé pushed the door open with a smile. “Wow, you’re… really good,” she said, feeling completely stupid.
“Thank you,” the gorgeous man said with a chuckle. “I would say the same of you.”
“You know who I am?” Ishalé asked, a bit dumbstruck.
“Of course. I had heard much about Madame de Fer’s new prima ballerina. Seeing you dance today, it was pleasing to see she had chosen well.”
Oh Creators, of course he knew who she was. Everyone had been at rehearsal that day. She would have been a horrible stuttering mess if she didn’t realize she had just complimented her. A blush rose to her cheeks- were there bells ringing? Angels singing? It was almost like she could hear them-
“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” his smooth voice broke her out of her reverie. He held out his hand.
“Ishalé Lavellan,” she replied, shaking his hand. “I’m sorry if I disrupted you.”
“It is no trouble,” he assured, reaching for his water. “You’ve reminded me to stop and take a break, in fact.”
“Let me guess- you won’t stop until you’re satisfied?” Ishalé asked with a sympathetic smile. “And then you overwork until you’re exhausted?”
Solas laughed to himself. “Speaking from experience?”
“You have no idea.”
“Something we have in common, then.”
Ishalé’s stomach did a cartwheel. “Seems like. Speaking of which, I really should get back to work… I have to live up to Vivienne’s expectations somehow.”
“Are you nervous about your role?” Solas asked. “It is not needed; you’re quite talented, Ishalé.”
Oooooh, that was nice. The way he said her name, the way the syllables rolled across his voice…
She cleared her throat, looking away to hide her blush. “Just hoping to be worthy of it. I am representing the entire company, after all, I must be able to give a fantastic performance.” She sighed deeply. “It just feels like everyone is counting on me: the dancers and Madame Vivienne and my duet partner-”
What? What was she doing? Rambling is what she was doing, making herself look foolish. She barely knew the guy and she was dumping all her nerves on him as if he was a therapist.
“I understand.”
Ishalé looked up, her gaze meeting kind grey eyes.
“It’s perfectly natural to be nervous. If it helps, it does not show when you dance.”
“Really?” she asked shyly, regretting it immediately. She sounded like a child, for Creators’ sake.
Solas smiled. “When you dance, you have an indomitable focus that is impressive. It would be fascinating to see it dominated.”
Holy shit.
“As for the pas de deux,” he mused, standing, “it is all about trust. Trust in yourself, and in your partner. If you’d like, I could attempt to ease your nerves.” He turned on a slow music piece, then held out his hand to her. “If I may have the honor.”
For a moment, Ishalé stared at his outstretched hand. On one hand, a gorgeous and talented man was asking her to dance with him. On the other, if she screwed up, would she lose his admiration?
“Will you trust me?” he asked suddenly.
She knew the answer without thinking. “Yes.”
Another smile graced his features as he helped her up to her feet. “Let’s begin, then.”
Ishalé turned to face the mirror and Solas stood behind her, gently setting his hands on her hips. She could feel the warmth on his palms through her shorts and tights, and she focused on keeping herself from shaking as she plied and stood on her toes, lifting her arms above her head. Her shoulders were tighter than normal.
“Relax,” he said softly. “Trust that I am here.”
Ishalé took a breath and let the tension in her muscles dissipate. Solas nodded approvingly behind her.
She lifted her leg into a posse, and Solas moved to hold her thigh, shifting her into arabesque. His warmth was constant behind her, and she could feel his breath on her bare neck. Her nerves hadn’t completely been erased, but there was a comfort in having him close.
Her leg lowered and those hands found their way back to her hips.
“Spin,” Solas gently commanded, and Ishalé moved into posse turns as his hands turned her hips. She finished and moved her leg into an attitude position, curling around his body as her back brushed his chest.
“Good,” he breathed, right at her ear, and she couldn’t help but smile to herself. “May I lift you?”
“Yes,” Ishalé whispered without a second thought, and Solas held under her thigh and across her stomach as he lifted her into a turn. It was almost dizzying, but she felt like a breeze as his strong arms supported her.
When Solas sat her down, she did a few turns away from him and stood in sou sou. Their eyes met and he held his arm out to her, a graceful invitation.
With a sashay into arabesque, he held her once more, promenading her around. She set her leg down and he held her close as he moved her body down almost to the floor before pulling her back up and sending her into a turn, his hands at her hips once again. It felt so natural, smooth to do this with him; her body felt like a steady stream, constantly moving like water.
Solas pulled away for a moment and Ishalé lept to the side of the floor, throwing a gaze at him to say, ‘Show me what you can do,’ as she posed.
With a devilish smile, Solas moved into a series of leaps turns, one right after the other; attitudes and frappes and posses and jetes, until he stopped in front of her and kneeled, holding his hand high above his head. Ishalé stepped forward, putting her hand in his, and he turned her around, set his hand on her ankle, and as he stood lifted her onto his shoulders.
His hand held constant with hers as her back draped across his shoulders. She lifted her leg as he paraded around the dance floor, as if showing her off to an imaginary audience.
Solas maneuvered her down into a fish position, and Ishalé turned her head to stare into his eyes. It felt like a small eternity, intimate and warm, as the music swelled and they held each other’s gaze.
He set her on her feet and she turned to face him, her hands finding her way around his neck. With a smile, he pulled away from her, and she allowed her hands to linger, her fingertips trailing over his shoulders. His arms opened for her and she jumped to him, going into arabesque as she landed so he could spin her once more.
Ishalé couldn’t help but giggle softly as Solas assisted her in turning quickly to numerous positions, from posse to attitude, ending with her back against his chest and her leg lifted to a point in front of her. When he let go, she gracefully ran to the other side of the floor, prompting him to follow and catch her hand with his, pulling her back to his arms and turning her, her legs pointed out as if she was frozen in a jump in his embrace.
“You are doing beautifully,” Solas’s melodic voice reached her ears.
Solas turned her in his arms so they faced each other, one of her legs pointed out as the other bent, and her arm around his shoulders. Her hand pulled in, her fingertips almost tracing the side of his face. He set her back down on her feet and kneeled in front on her once more, offering his hands for hers.
Ishalé set her palms in his and bent into arabesque, her eyes trained on him as she stretched her leg higher than she thought she ever had before.
The music ended and Solas rose slowly, like the morning sun peeking over the horizon, but his hands remained cupping Ishalé’s.
“I hope that helped with your nerves,” he said with a small smile.
Ishalé finally felt the exertion of their dance catch up with her. “That was incredible! It felt like I was a breeze.”
The adrenaline still coursing through her negated the feeling that what she had just said was a little dumb, but she almost didn’t care. She thought to hug Solas, but had enough sense to think that would be a little odd.
“Thank you so much,” Ishalé cooed, grinning ear to ear.
“It was my pleasure,” Solas said, bowing his head to her and pulling away.
Ishalé lingered for a moment, staring at him in admiration, before she remembered how late it was. “I should… probably get going.”
“Of course. May I walk you to your vehicle?” he asked, eyeing how dark it was outside.
Ishalé felt her heart do a backflip. “I’d appreciate that.”
***
The roar of applause was incredibly humbling, and Ishalé was doing her best not to cry during the curtain call. Everything had been perfect.
After getting offstage, she quickly rushed to her dressing room, anxious to take off her costume and see her family and friends… and Solas.
They had been practicing together often after that night, but this was the first time he was seeing it all strung together. She hoped he was proud of her improvement. Even Madame Vivienne had given her a nod of approval after the performance.
She wanted him to be proud of her more than anything at that moment.
As Ishalé took off her pointe shoes, she noticed a neat bouquet of blue flowers in a vase sitting by the mirror. Crystal grace- her favorite. A note stuck out from the blooms.
Well done.
-Solas