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When Panthea opened the door to Solas office, she wished that he had chosen one of the more discrete rooms of the castle when the Inquisition had set up shop and not the most public besides the throne room. If she looked up, she could see the Leliana’s birds above and, of course, because the Tevinter knew exactly what she was doing, Dorian was leaning over the fence of the second floor to peer down at her, giving encouraging waves.
Panthea was generally a well composed person, expect when having fun of course, but she had her hands behind her back in a mimicry of Solas, hiding her shaking hands. He was sitting at his desk in the middle of the room, bent over a tome, and had it been any other situation, she would have suggested wax to keep his dome in shape, but she was only grateful that she didn’t have to gaze into his eyes just yet.
She walked to the front of his desk, but feeling a bit off, she moved to the side of him instead, and was about to speak when he startled her by turning to her.
“Panthea.” That was a usual greeting but she could feel her entire body becoming hot, and not for the usual reasons she liked. Panthea opened and closed her mouth.
“This is a very nice office,” she said, gesturing to the room, the room she had been too more than a handful of times. Panthea could hear Dorian laughing above her.
“Yes. Did you want to talk about something?” Solas either didn’t hear or ignored Dorian.
“Yes, um, I just, I, well, Do, wait, um, I was thinking..” Panthea had never stuttered so hard in her life, and she could feel her face becoming red and tight, and she was so nervous..
“She wants to spend time with you. Alone.” Dorian was leaning over the railing as he yelled this, half his body pitched forward and he drew out the ‘e’ in alone. Panthea was nervous before, now she was downright mortified.
“Dorian!” Panthea had half a mind to immediately head up to the damn mage, and hang him by his feet, but before she could take the necessary steps, she felt a hand on her arm, followed by a startled yelp from above. Panthea looked up and immediately doubled over in laughter, at the sight of the upper crust mage with both arms frozen to the railings of the fence.
“Solas,” Panthea let out breathy, and her breath further stuttered across her tongue, creating the most interesting cackle she wasn’t aware of. Her stomach hurt and her eyes watered. She honestly would have continued to laugh, if Solas had not again laid his hand on her arm, silencing her immediately.
She gazed upon Solas, and she felt still. Panthea had never thought she would fall in love, but this hobo apostate, this man who was too tall and board to be an elf, this man who she trusted more than any other, was so beautiful and entrancing, she had trouble not openingly flirting and trying to woo him. However, Solas was not a normal elf, in any sense of the word. He was not Dalish, nor was he a true apostate, and instead his own type of elf, which she admired endlessly, but make pursuing a relationship with him a little harder. She wanted to spend more time alone with him, getting to know him, but he was introverted, and she wasn’t sure if he was even interested in her, the same way she was.
All this raced within her mind and when he asked, “What did you want to talk about,” Panthea smiled, patted his hand, and asked him to have tea with her. It would take time to court Solas, but she was willing to wait for him. Then, he smiled at her, a rare one, full and happy, and she hoped that her feeling was mirrored in Solas.