Work Text:
A mumbled prayer echoed through the depths of the cave.
The Inquisitor pulled his dagger free from the wyvern and rose to his feet. The beast had been terrorizing the nearby villagers and its poison would prove a valuable ingredient.
Lavellan had been born a hunter. Sharp-eyed and swift. He was unbeatable.
And yet, each kill left a quiet weight in his chest. Taking a life, even for a purpose… Lavellan was quite the sensitive one.
“No prey should fall without being honored,” he whispered, glancing at his companion. “Judith will be pleased.”
A sincere smile.
“Inquisitor, why would you waste precious time on such a task?” Solas asked him. “Any scout could've killed that wyvern for you.”
Hunting was not among his priorities. But it felt right. He had to.
Lavellan shrugged. “If it helps, why shouldn't I?”
Solas gave a slight smile. He valued modesty. Anyone around the Inquisitor could easily forget he led such a powerful organization.
Never acting above anyone else.
Trying to stay true to himself.
Trying, at least.
They could have returned to camp. They could have rejoined the others. But Lavellan, far too curious, had to find what was hiding in that cave.
“Would you look at this,” Lavellan gasped.
His eyes brightened as he discovered a hidden waterfall just outside of the cave. Two giant hart statues facing each other stood in front of the waterfall, guarding it.
A majestic sight. Almost holy.
Lavellan stepped closer to listen to the delicate sound of water falling in a modest pool. Part of the pool lay hidden from the sun behind the rocks. The perfect place for a nap.
“That's… a waterfall. Inquisitor…?”
Solas stood still, watching the Inquisitor strip before him. Was he… blushing?
“Don't just stare at me, you pervert. Come with me,” Lavellan softly chuckled as he carefully entered the water. “It's actually good!”
Not too hot. Not too cold. Lavellan stepped further until the water reached his waist, then glanced back at Solas.
Eventually, he gave up. Solas took his own clothes off and slowly joined him.
“That's the spirit,” Lavellan smirked, offering him his hand.
As he stepped into the water, Solas grabbed his hand. Cupping his jaw, he kissed him softly. Lavellan could not help but smile. He felt safe. Happy.
“Vhenan,” Solas whispered as they parted.
Biting his lips, Lavellan lost himself in Solas' gaze. His violet eyes were fixed on him with such tenderness—and yet an undeniable sadness.
Something was off about his apostate lover. Lavellan could deny it with all his might; inevitably, one day, his masquerade would come to an end. Until then, as long as Solas' game was on, Lavellan would keep playing.
Solas tenderly stroked his cheeks over his tattooed skin. He thought for a moment, and then he finally spoke.
“Why these Vallaslin?” he murmured.
It sounded like a lament.
Lavellan awkwardly chuckled. His thoughts went to the day his Keeper tattooed him—a painful memory, a day of shame and disappointment. Lavellan could still hear the others laughing, still feel her displeased gaze on him.
“My aunt decided for my sister and me,” Lavellan eventually answered with a faint smile. “She never said why.”
That was not a lie. His aunt, his Keeper, never explained why she chose their vallaslin to honor Mythal; Lavellan had his ideas. This woman was family, yet she felt like a stranger. Always so secretive, so grim. Always two steps ahead of everyone else.
She must know something they did not. Perhaps she wished to grant herself Mythal's favor. Perhaps she was onto something much bigger.
Solas silently nodded. There was more to say, undeniably, but none would speak up.
Lavellan grabbed Solas' hands and pulled him beneath the waterfall. He exhaled in relief as he splashed water over his face. He sure enjoyed his luxurious comfort at Skyhold, but nothing could compare with what nature already had to offer.
Lavellan glanced at Solas—standing quietly, absorbed in his ruminations. Then he broke the peace by splashing water over Solas.
Caught off guard, Solas froze. Dazed for a moment, he let out a subtle laugh.
“You hang with Sera too much,” Solas murmured, holding him by the waist.
“Really now?” Lavellan smiled as he wrapped his arms around Solas' neck.
Lavellan leaned in first. Slowly. Carefully.
Then the kiss deepened. Solas’ hand found its way down the curve of his hip. With the other, he grabbed his jaw, his thumb slowly stroking his chin.
Solas was passionate and eager, yet gentle, cautious not to be rough.
It stirred feelings buried deep a long time ago.
The innocence of discovering each other.
The hesitancy of giving in to forbidden feelings.
The passion of two hearts, the heat of desire.
“We should not,” Solas whispered against Lavellan's lips.
His own lips pressed together as he made no move to pull away.
“Why shouldn't we, Solas?” His question sounded like a solicitation.
And they kissed again.
Lavellan was not asking for justifications but subtly begging him to cast wisdom aside.
There were countless rational reasons why he should not mingle with him. And Lavellan did not care about any of them. He wasted too many years waiting for a man he never got; he would not let Solas walk away from him that easily.
“There is... so much you don't know about me,” Solas reluctantly confessed, holding Lavellan close.
“As if you knew everything about me,” Lavellan softly joked, stroking Solas' chest. “You could be a Viddathari or a demon. I could not care less, Solas.”
Solas smiled with closed eyes. A bittersweet smile. He surely appreciated his naivete and seemed on the edge of giving in; for Lavellan's greatest despair, Solas would not.
One last kiss.
“Ir abelas,” Solas whispered. “I just... I...” Solas stared into his eyes. Temptation, frustration… contrition. “I cannot.”
Quickly, Lavellan shook his head. “I didn't mean to be pushy,” he reassured him. “Forgive me if I—”
“Do not even dare to apologize, ma vhenan...” Solas cut him off in a hurry. “Trust me, I want you, I really do. Perhaps even more than you want me.”
“I doubt that,” Lavellan mumbled, tracing invisible lines on Solas' shoulder.
“Ma nuvenin,” Solas nodded with a faint smile. “Vhenan, I won't sleep with you under... such circumstances.”
Lavellan licked his lips as he listened carefully to his lover's words. He could understand that. Maybe once Corypheus had fallen, maybe then...
“Well, we had our fun, haven’t we?” Lavellan laughed. “Back to business.”
Lavellan kissed him on the tip of the nose as he stepped out of the water.
Solas chuckled as he watched him.
He wanted him. He wanted him to the point it hurt. Holding himself from giving in to carnal pleasure with the one he loved most was unbearable.
The sight of that clavicle—that naked skin begging to be touched, to be tasted, to be consumed.
Solas bit his lip.
It was just not the place.
Not the time.
Not the world.