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Lissa was wandering, aimless, doing her best to take the lesser-used halls and stairways, remaining out of the way of those going about their duties. Since breakfast, she had been alone, content to explore and let her mind wander: a luxury she had not often been afforded in the last year. If nothing else, she was discovering parts of Skyhold that she had not known existed. As she exited a cobweb-covered nook filled with old tomes, she began moving upward toward more familiar passages.
Pausing just outside the main hall, she reached up to brush her hair, loose from its normal braid, from her face, grumbling softly as it fell back to tickle against her forehead and cheeks. For a moment, she held back, listening to the hustle and bustle of dozens of people barely contained behind the heavy door. Her fingertips twitched over the layers of cloth wound over her forearm and wrist, her arm pressed to her chest within a sling. The anchor sparked almost lazily, dull flickers of viridian dancing over her simple clothing and echoing down the stone passage behind her before fading behind the clench of her fingers. Straightening, then, rolling her shoulders back and ignoring the brief flare of pain, she pushed open the door with her good hand and entered the hall.
“Inquisitor.”
“Herald.”
She smiled and nodded in greeting, but kept her gaze downward in hopes of discouraging conversation. And for once, it seemed to work; she crossed the hall and slipped through another door, followed only by the sound of a parting, “Your Worship.”
Her nose wrinkled at that, but she chose to move forward and not dwell on the unwarranted title. As she moved deeper into the dimly-lit room, she felt her expectant smile fade. Solas was not here.
“Odd,” she murmured, turning in a slow circle in the center of the rotunda. The ever-present veilfire crackled near the scaffolding and the scent of recently applied paint was faint in the air. As curiosity urged her, she moved toward the newly-finished fresco. Her fingers skimmed over the painted stone, feeling each minute crack and divot along the stone face. The scent of oils filled her nostrils and she smiled to herself as she recognized the new scene.
“Halamshiral.” And the word was tinged with wondering fondness.
Memories of the night washed over her anew, leaving her cheeks warm and her fingers trembling against the masterful brushstrokes. It was a night she would never forget. Both men and women bedecked in jewels and silks, bright and beautiful as butterflies, but behind their resplendent beauty, eyes that saw everything and tongues as sharp as swords.
Yet, the most cherished part of her memory had nothing to do with the beauty, or The Game, or even saving the Empress’ life. Pressing her palm to the cool stone, Lissa smiled again to herself as she closed her eyes and remembered.
The way he had looked at her, the way he had touched her, calming, encouraging, his skin so warm where his hand had rested possessively at her lower back. How he had opened up to her, allowed her to take that final step, the heat of his body as he pressed close against the layers of fabric between them. His voice, soft and coaxing as he held her gaze, tilted her head back to—
“Fenor?”
Lissa turned, surprise and his choice of words bringing a sudden rush of color to her cheeks. “Ah, Solas, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” She licked her lips, the fingers of her good hand fluttering nervously at her side. “I was looking for you,” she added, regretting the obvious statement almost immediately.
He smiled, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, here I am. What can I do for you?”
“I was just taking some time to look around Skyhold. I know I’m supposed to be resting, but I found myself growing restless instead.”
“Understandable. You have been rather busy and Skyhold is vast.” He took a step to the side, his hands folded behind his back as he tipped his head toward her. “I see you found my newest addition.”
She nodded, working to slow her racing heart. “It’s beautiful, just like the rest.” Moving forward as he made his way to his desk, she glanced back at the wall, wishing she could see it just as he did. “Maybe next time, I could watch you work?”
“Perhaps.” His smile deepened. “Though I am sure you would find the work dull.”
“That, I doubt,” she replied quickly. Her gaze fell to his desk as he reached for a familiar cup. “Tea?” Her eyebrows rose. “And here I thought the very idea offended you.”
His gaze darkened, smile sharpening to an amused smirk at her teasing. “I enjoy tea,” he answered, bringing the steaming cup to his lips. “When it is the proper kind.” A pleased hum filled his throat as he sipped and Lissa found herself shifting at the sound. “I requested this mixture myself,” he concluded, his gaze on her once more.
“A tea you actually enjoy?” She sidled closer, appreciating the way he watched her. “I must admit, I am intrigued.”
“Would you like to try it? I made sure to bring an extra cup, in the event that my best pupil became restless.”
She laughed and nodded, grateful at his foresight. “Yes, please.” Watching as he poured another cup, she came to stand near him, accepting the tea as he offered it.
“Shall we sit?” He motioned to the couch, partially covered in books, as always. “I have been on my feet most of the day.”
“Of course.” She walked with him, waiting patiently and feeling somewhat silly as he alone moved the books aside and placed a few on the floor.
Solas chuckled as he caught sight of her expression, though his own held slight worry as he glanced at her arm. “Is it causing you any discomfort?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head ruefully and sank onto the couch, enjoying the heat of the cup in her hand. “At most, it’s annoying.” As he sat next to her, she brought the cup to her face and took an experimental sniff. “Mm, mint.” Her lips parted in a brief smile, then she sipped, humming thoughtfully. “And…apples?” When he nodded, she took another sip, relaxing further. “It’s surprisingly refreshing. No wonder you like it.”
“Indeed.” Resting his tea and the hand that held it atop his knee, he turned his head toward her inquisitively. “What do you mean by your wound annoying you? Should I fetch a healer?”
Lissa shook her head again, her hair falling around her cheeks and shoulders once more and drawing an aggravated sound from her throat. “It makes doing certain tasks quite difficult,” she shrugged, tilting her head back and trying to shake the incorrigible waves away from her face. But no amount of moving could persuade her hair to cooperate and she gave up with a soft grunt. “Have you ever tried to braid hair with one hand?”
“I must admit,” he replied, “Of all that I can claim to have accomplished, that specific task has not made my list.”
Chuckling, she brought her cup to her lips again, enjoying the invigorating fragrance of mint and the sweetness of apples. “Well, let me be the first to warn you: it is nearly impossible.”
His laughter joined hers and she could not stop the throb of her heart as she enjoyed his amusement. How long had she secretly wished to hear his laughter? A moment later, he set his cup aside and shifted. “Perhaps I can offer assistance.” His lips quirked upward. “Such as it is.”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” she answered quickly, though her stomach clenched at the thought of him touching her hair.
“But I should like to.” And both his tone and expression were sincere. “Let me help you, Lissa.”
She drew her lower lip into her mouth, worrying the soft skin between her teeth, wavering at his request. But as his gaze fell to her mouth, his eyes darkening as he watched, she quickly straightened and turned away, presenting her hair to him. “Thank you,” she said softly, hoping he would not hear the tremble in her voice.
“You need not thank me for this,” he replied, his voice just as soft.
Closing her eyes as her body responded to his voice and then the first gentle touch of his fingers in her hair, Lissa worked to focus on something else. “Do-do you even know how? To braid hair, I mean.”
“I would not call myself a master, but, I should be able to accomplish it well enough that it will not fall in your face. At least, that is the plan.”
Lissa took a quick sip of her tea, hoping to calm her nerves, but as Solas’ strong and slender fingers slid through her hair, she knew no amount of tea would help to calm her now. He quickly and efficiently untangled the knots she had missed this morning, allowing the familiar weight of her hair to drape across her back and curl on his lap, the thick locks warm and smelling of honey and soap. His strokes slowed, lengthened, the pads of his fingers pressing to her neck and shoulders, barely there, then, gone.
“I think it is good that you have had a day or two to yourself,” he murmured as he worked. “We push you too hard, not to mention the weight you put upon yourself. It is good for you to relax.”
She shivered as she felt the scrape of his nails along her scalp, her head falling back without her meaning for it to, her lips parting as she let him help her, touch her, in a way no one else had. Her breathing deepened, then left her in a breathless exhale as his fingertips traced her neck, a slow warmth beginning to build in her stomach and growing stronger the longer he touched her.
Solas gave a thoughtful hum as his fingers slid away, and just as she formed the courage to ask him to continue, he began to plait her hair. He paused now and again to catch stray strands, his fingers passing over her arm or side like a caress, before beginning his task again. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks as his touches moved downward, then, disappeared altogether as he began to finish the end of the braid.
“Do you have something with which to tie it?” he asked, his voice very near to her ear. Ignoring the flip-flop of her stomach, Lissa shook her head.
“A shame,” he said, his voice moving over her skin, sending a wave of heat down along her spine to pool with the warmth swirling low in her belly. “I think I did a fine job of it.” As he lifted her hair and placed it over her shoulder, he leaned forward and nuzzled the now exposed stretch of skin just above the collar of her tunic. “What is the matter, da’len?” His voice was a teasing whisper. “You seem tense.”
With a short intake of breath, Lissa turned her head toward him, his playful touch bringing a fresh bloom of color to her cheeks. “And I wonder,” she said with as much calm and focus as she could muster. “—why that is. What do you think? You are the teacher after all, hah’ren.”
She could almost feel his amusement. “Why, it sounds as though you believe I am the one to blame.” He pressed a slow kiss to the nape of her neck, gently brushing aside russet strands of hair so that he might continue.
“I see no one else in the position to tease me,” she replied, pleased that her voice did not waver.
“Ah, well…” He trailed several quick kisses along the side of her neck, leaning forward and lightly pressing his chest to her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist, careful of her wounded arm. Pausing just beneath her ear, he gave another hum that she could feel reverberate along her skin. “I could stop.”
Her throat worked and even with her eyes closed, she could feel him watching her, his gaze soft and warm, possessive, a predatory hint to the turn of his smile as he nuzzled her, breathing in the scent of her. “No,” she whispered.
Solas smiled against her throat, nearly growling as her pulse leapt against the press of his lips, and for a moment, as she shuddered and pressed closer to him, she felt him tense. But his smile grew as she whimpered and turned toward him, straining in the position in which she found herself. “That was not really an answer, you know,” he murmured against her cheek.
She gave a hapless laugh and pulled away, finally opening her eyes to meet his teasing gaze. “I know for a fact you heard me, speaking or otherwise,” she said simply, setting the cup of lukewarm tea on one of the haphazard piles of books as she turned. “Ara’len.”
His blue-grey gaze darkened again as he searched her face, weighing something that she might wonder about at a later time, and then, he was reaching for her, pulling her toward himself again. One hand came to rest on the flare of her hip, guiding her into his lap as his other hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the lips she had bitten to redness just moments before. Leaning forward, he pressed his brow to her hers, watching her with half-lidded eyes as she met his gaze. “Your reasoning is sound,” he said softly, his pupils dilating as she kissed the pad of his thumb and grinned cheekily up at him. A soft growl filled his throat as he closed the distance between them and kissed her, slanting his mouth over hers, hot, fierce, and wanting.
Lissa sighed into his kiss, clutching at the front of his tunic with her good hand and leaning into him as desire licked its way through her like wildfire, her hair slowly untwining, forgotten, between them.