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There is a special kind of beauty in the memories of a broken heart. It feeds the hunger for blood and desire, makes one scream in the back of their mind, their lips stitched shut for the sake of what’s proper. To be good, agreeable. To not be a danger.
She had to prove herself, time and time again.
Before the Chantry, her advisors, the templars and mages and anyone else who laid the world in her palms without her consent, nor want. Who would have known that this insignificant Dalish elf would carry the fate of Thedas on her shoulders?
After some time she realised, he knew. He always knew, always a step before her and she drank it up, every single drop of that knowledge she found between his lips, tongue on the inside of her mouth, reaching straight for her spirit, making her bare in ways that seemed dangerous, infuriating. Beautiful.
One could imagine Lavellan’s surprise, or maybe the unconscious lack of it, when the shit hit the fan. Thedas could never stay calm for long, considering the kingdom’s long history of legendary heroines, the vile monsters and constant danger. What a world to live in! Still, the last ten years seemed like a blur full of pretty mild events. Spiceless, smooth sailing time that wrapped around her neck like a gentle serpent, something between a shawl and a handyman’s noose. And now Solas was trying to tear down the Veil.
She would’ve done it with him, if he only let her. If only her own pride wasn’t greater.
Between holding the south of Thedas from falling by the last threads and trying to help out Varric’s last little hero, Lavellan had one last mission, so much more important to her than saving the world. She had to tend to her anger, nurse it to the point where in the last confrontation with Fen’Harel she’d be able to claw into him with its full force. Like a precious little thing that it was, she cared for it with every passing day since their last meeting - on the battlefield, in the sheets full of charming, meaningless distractions; in the dark corners of her grief, the pure love she carried for him in a badly guarded secret.
And when the time would come, she’d unleash all of it before him, holding herself bare and guarded at the same time.
“Vhenan-”
The word shook her to the core, even though she heard it so many times before. Right there, in the middle of a complete shit storm, bruised and bloodied, with everyone around them, it made her feel so small. Like he could pick her up in his palm, bring to his lips and swallow her whole with just this one sweet word. [i]Sweet talker[/i].
“No- Solas. No” Lavellan managed to choke out, making her way towards the Dread Wolf, her firsts clenched, eyes of the others following her with dreadfull hope. She always knew how to make an entrance, huh? But she tended to her anger far too long for the audience to stop her now. “You [i]need[/i] to stop. If I hear one more word of this- This self-pitying-beyond-redemption bullshit, I fear I might explode and take all of Minrathous with me” she added with a snarl, closing the distance between them with a few strides, her hand shooting out to grab his, holding the lyrium dagger.
Solas’ body tensed under her touch. She could see him straightening up, his eyes narrowing as they met hers before falling to the side again. Was it shame? Pride wounded? Regret? Both of them were way too familiar with those feelings, just as familiar as with each other.
“Vhenan, you don’t-”
“Understand?” she cut him off, pulling by the dagger to bring him closer, almost making the Dread Wolf stumble, though he managed to keep his composure. He almost always did, but not with her. No, she knew how to break him and for now it might’ve mattered to her more than saving that damned world that bruised them. “You said that before, fenor. But here I am, still following the trail of your regrets. Is this not enough for you? Would anything ever be? Do you think bringing down the Veil will change how you feel about yourself, vhenan? Do you think it will change anything for those that already left it?”
Her voice grew louder with every word, a slight tremble and a crack slipping in despite her best efforts to keep the hurt to herself. It was telling, the way her fingers clawed into his on the dagger, the tremble of the corners of her lips, a wrinkle between her frowned brows.
“Why are you still here?” Solas’ voice was surprisingly quiet, gentle, as if only for her ears. To Lavellan’s surprise, he didn’t back away like he tended to, his eyes meeting hers truly for the first time in ten years.
“Because-” she started, cutting herself off with a sharp breath, painfully aware of their current circumstances and the wounded audience around them. No, she had to push it away. This was her only chance or the world might burn and she herself with it. And surely, if he didn’t come to reason, she wouldn’t care for the horrible finale. “Ar lath ma, ma’av’in, despite myself and everything. And I’ll be here until you let your pride kill me along with everything we built” Inquisitor whispered with a tremble in her voice, letting go of the dagger but not backing away, not yet.
As her fingers slipped away, Solas’ free hand shoot out to hold them firmly. In a quick soft motion he brought them to his bruised lips, brushing them gently against her bloodied knuckles.
“You were always full of surprises, ma vhenan” he whispered back and Lavallan could swear there was a glimpse of tears in the corners of his eyes before he let go of her hand and the dagger came down to cut the inside of his palm.
The drops of blood stained the tips of her shoes and for the moment her anger faltered, misplaced by the pure horror of knowledge that what’s done, cannot be undone.
“My life force now sustains the Veil. With every breath I take, I will protect the innocent from my past failures” the Dread Wolf said in a manner so godly, turning to the gathered warriors and heroes. And as the Inquisitor just stood there, breath taken away by the feeling of his lips upon her hand, he continued. “The Titan’s dreams are mad from their imprisonment. I cannot kill the blight but I can help to soothe its anger. I will go and seek atonement.”
As Solas turned to face the Veil, Lavellan’s body acted on instinct in a fluid motion, almost like a dance she must have thought out somewhere in her dreams of the future. Fingers of her right hand clawed into his shoulder, though all of the gathered must’ve been past the perception of pain after the battle. As she turned him around forcefully, taking advantage of the surprise painted all over his face, her left hand cupped the back of his neck, pulling him down to almost brush his nose against her.
“I’m not letting you do this alone” she almost growled, eyes squeezed shut as she tilted her face away from the audience gathered.
“You don’t know the horrors of the place I’m sentenced to, fenorain” Solas replied huskily, his shaky hands resting on the cup of her back.
“I don’t care.” A quiet murmur left the elf’s lips as she brushed her cheek against his, smudging the blood staining it with a tender, stubborn gesture. “The biggest horror there is going to be me until we talk all of this through. But where you go, I go.”
“But I-”
“Shush. I forgave you long ago, vhenan, but that doesn’t mean I forgot” she spoke quickly, as if to take back the time stolen, every second on the verge of existence between Thedas and the Veil protecting it. Her hand slid down Solas’ arm to entwine their fingers, her own clawing further into the nape of his neck as she brushed her lips against his, leaving a small kiss in the corner of his mouth. “When will you learn that I’m as stubborn and prideful as you are? Let me make my own decisions, love” Lavellan added in a rushed whisper, placing another kiss on his upper lip.
And this one tasted salty.
“Ir abelas, vhenan” he kept on whispering as she peppered his face in gentle kisses, drinking up the tears of regrets of the Dread Wolf. There was nothing more to say when hand in hand they stepped through the Veil, just a mouthed “thank you” Lavellan threw over her shoulder towards Rook.
And there, in the Fade prison, maybe, one day, they might build something beautiful from the threads of grief and regrets.