Work Text:
Faint shapes dance in the feeble light of dawn that creeps through the dents and cracks in a pitiable attempt to illuminate the tent.
Elgara watches them as she twists and turns in her bedroll, unable to fall asleep again. She had almost forgotten that it was even possible for time to pass this slowly. The Inquisition usually kept her utterly absorbed, occupied and exhausted. Dangerously close to the point of blacking out on the daily. But the journey they had embarked on today had been peaceful - compared to her usual ventures – with mere two attempts to end their lives, one by a small group of three startled cultists, and one by an irritated, tired bear. But since Fate was cruel and would not allow her even a moments rest without a sizable restitution, she now has to pay for it. So she keeps twisting and turning, until she is unable to endure even a second more of this silent torture- which is about 10 minutes from the moment she first woke up- and relents, switching tactics, and with an aspirated sigh, lets herself fall deeper into the soft warmth of her bedroll. There she stays, uncomfortable, defeated, yet unwilling to move, sinking ever deeper into despair and self-pity. But then an idea strikes her, a thought which turns her perpetual frown into a mischievous grin. She turns once more to her side.
„Sera, are you up?“ She asks the figure next to her.
The tall woman is a chaotic tangle of limbs, spilled out in all directions, much like a cracked egg. Yolk-blond hair tangled and matted, face buried into her pillow, her body spread in a way that claims most of the space with resolute efficiency. It only leaves a small corner of the outer edge for her Dalish companion, not that she minds. Her preferred sleeping locations have always been the most crammed, tiniest places, ever since she was a child. More than once, Deshanna had found her, much to her dismay, sleeping soundly in their Clan’s cooking pot.
“Sera?” She repeats, notably louder this time.
The self-described un-elfy elf responds, true to her character, with a threatening, annoyed growl and a rude gesture.
Elgara smiles to herself and props her head up on one hand. “So… does that mean you don’t want to prank Solas and Dorian?” She inquires.
This gets her an immediate and more agreeable reaction. Sera raises her head, visibly curious, lips curled in an expectant smirk.
“What… really?” she asks, eyes still heavy with sleep, but noticeably wide.
Elgara smiles. “Really,” she confirms.
“Ha! Always knew you were fun!” Sera exclaims. After a short moment of reconsideration, and a wry look from the Dalish, she corrects herself “Well no, I didn’t," and then adds with a grin "but I’m real glad you are!”
“Aw, how sweet of you!” Elgara says with exaggerated mirth and then turns somewhat soft, but playful. “I know we have our differences. Me, being all 'elfy', and you being… well you." She drops her voice in mock- disgust. Sera sticks out her tongue. “But I’m glad we’re friends. Well, most of the time. Alright, fine some of the time. No, actually…”
“Ha-ha,” Sera interrupts derisively, “arse.”
Elgara chuckles.
The other elf starts to fidget. “But enough already with the mushy stuff! Let's get to the fun bits!” She declares and sits up. “So… what’s it you’re thinking, your Inquisitorialness?”
They discuss ideas. They range from BEES (which are, luckily, not nearby) to silly, to downright dangerous, to utterly impractical but hilarious, until they finally settle on something more thought through and applicable.
Well, when held up to the alternatives, anyway.
----
‘The Herald’s‘ time with the Inquisition had taught her many valuable lessons, one of which was the necessity to sometimes act on impulse. It had also alleviated her tedious habit of obsessing over the possibly disastrous consequences of her actions.
Still, she was not entirely without sense and merit. No innocent scrolls or tomes should be harmed in the making of this prank.
So she, despite annoyed protest from Sera, carefully crawls into the mages tent. It is notably tidier than their own, and the smell of sweat and stale air is almost entirely masked by the scent of potions and herbs. There are some books strewn about, which she quickly collects and carefully slides out. Most of their clothes and armor are placed in neat heaps, but she doesn’t bother taking them. After all, they would not be permanently damaged by what she has in mind.
Dorian is sleeping soundly, his head resting on an ornately adorned pillow, which looks so fluffy that Elgara feels her neck relax at the mere sight. His pack slouches in one corner of the tent, next to his pile of clothing. Securing it is easy enough. But Solas is going to pose a challenge. Because he is using his bag as a pillow. Well, there’s really only one way to get it ... She lowers herself even further and crawls, almost slithers her way to the sleeping elf.
Something rises in her chest when she sees his face. He looks so peaceful, entirely untroubled, content. Her heart clenches. What she wouldn’t give to have him like this, so carefree every day and not just in fleeting moments. She smiles to herself. Not that she had any room to talk.
A thought strikes her then, a quiet wish. Maybe, once all of this is over, and they both survive, maybe they could get away from it all. At least for a little while. Have a vacation. Visit her clan, stay in a simple house in the woods, just the two of them. Laughing, kissing, arguing, living. Her smile widens. It is not the first time such a fantasy has snuck into her head. She finds herself dreaming more often of what their life could be like, after Corypheus. After the politics and the fighting and the trials. Deep down, she knows she will never simply abandon it all, won’t ‘retire’, not while she still has the power to reshape the world. After all, it has been ages since an elf held such power. Elgara’s people needed her. And her selfish wishes and desires were not enough to abandon them. How could she possibly be happy if countless others still suffered, knowing she could help them? How could she ever be free until they were? The strange feeling of wetness on the back of her hand snaps her out of her dreams. She wipes her eyes with her sleeve and pushes the pain away, instead focusing on the task at hand.
Elgara strategically places her fingers around the backpack, careful to get as even a grip as possible. Then she starts pulling, slowly, stopping at the slightest shift in his breathing. She is unable to judge just how deep his sleep is. He is certainly capable of sleeping in and through any occasion. She had seen him close his eyes and enter the Fade under the blazing heat of the sun in the Hissing Wastes, on the raw, cold stone of Caer Bronach, and once even on the back of the horse he had been riding, Stanberry. That had been particularly impressive, Stanberry had temperament.
Ruins and caves, crawling with giant spiders, whispering ancient mysteries, they were like lullabies to him. But she had also seen him wake up at the slightest sound as well. When a band of cultists had attacked in the dead of night, when she had whispered to him in the dark, the morning at the winter palace... Maybe all depended on the dream.
Well, she certainly hopes that he has an amazing dream right now, because she needs him deeply asleep for this.
Elgara pulls one more time, slow but firm and his head rolls onto the bedroll. She freezes in place. She doesn’t dare to move a muscle or breathe. His mouth drops open and his breathing shifts for a moment, but then his chest falls back into the normal rhythm.
With a huge, internal sigh of relief, she crawls towards the exit. She peers back for a short glance at his sleeping form before carefully lifting the tent flaps.
They would go on a vacation, she decides then, hugging the backpack closer. Have a short taste of normality.
---
“Finally!” Elgara huffs as she finishes securing the last bit of string in place with a tight knot, Sera’s mad giggles an encouraging background.
She takes a few steps back to admire her work. It was probably not what Josephine had in mind when she had gifted her the sowing kit. The small tent Solas and Dorian shared was now completely sealed shut. Perhaps not the most original, nor brightest idea, but it would hopefully be effective nonetheless.
Sera slaps her hands in a dampened clap, careful not to make any sound that would wake them - yet. “Bloody brilliant!” she proclaims.
Elgara casts a barrier, for good measure, and for once her companion does not object her use of magic.
“Oh!” Sera calls enthusiastically, as if struck by an epiphany, and proceeds to take some bread out of her pocket and scatters it in rough crumbs around the tent.
“Birds!” she explains with a satisfied shriek.
Elgara tilts her head in amusement. “Do I even want to know why you have bread in your pockets?”
Sera makes a dismissive gesture. “Well, you know, old habits don’t die and shit. I always keep just a little bit extra.”
Of course. How thoughtless of her. Sera had lived in the slums, probably made it through worse than most of her other companions, and that was saying something. Elgara remembered some of her friend’s comments. How she had been ‘in her bones-hungry’.
“What?” Sera arches her brows, miffed. “Don’t aim those sad puppy dog eyes at me! It’s all good, yeah?”
The Dalish resists the urge to smother the elf in a hug and instead opts for a smirk. “Oh, this will be better than good.”
Sera snorts her laugh. “Ha! Yes!”
They then proceed to the final, and most controversial part of their plan: getting a bucket of water.
Deep down, they both knew it is a bad idea, though Elgara has decisively more empathy for them than Sera. After all, neither of them could be described as morning people, they all would probably have to fight today, there was still a lot of ground to cover, and they did not have a spare tent…
“Ready?” Sera asks, almost bouncing with enthusiasm.
Well...
“They are going to murder us for this, you know?” Elgara states, dryly. “I’m ready.”
Sera snorts.
“Pah, they can try,” she says and empties the bucket.
The results are immediate, spontaneous, and complete pranking perfection.
Most of the birds that had started picking at the bread flee from the splashes of water and the tent, as it comes alive.
First, there are screams, then curses, then the tent bulges out in grotesque shapes, like leather skin trying to form a monstrous body.
“Dorian, if you would…”
“Fasta vass!”
Sera roars with laughter. “Priceless!”
“Oh, so you find this amusing, do you Sera?” Dorian’s voice sounds from within, muffled by the fabric. “Go on then, laugh all you can. Because once I get out, I …”
He falls silent.
“A barrier,” Solas asserts.
“Yes, I can tell!” Dorian rages. “So our dear Inquisitor has a hand in this, has she?”
“It’s good for morale,” Elgara chimes in.
“Ah, yes. Nothing lifts the spirits like good, old fashioned assault…”
“Oh sush it! You just wish Bull was in that tent!” she says with an inappropriate hand gesture.
Dorian snorts. “That would at least serve some purpose! Give the Buffoon something resembling a bath.”
Elgara laughs. “You two are so cute!”
“Oh you better let me out, right now! Or so help me, I will burn …”
Oh no, they had crossed to many lines to back out now. Lavellan smirks. “Not happening!”
The picture of the next, glorious moment, will always be ingrained in Lavellan’s memory.
Tent flaps, ripped aside like curtains to a play, birds flying in a frantic panic as fire dances on the mage’s palms.
His face the personification of anger, purer than any rage demon she had ever come across.
“You!” he roars
“Shit!” Sera curses.
“Run!” Elgara screams before she darts off.
The cold morning wind whips at her face as she makes her way across the clearing into the forest. Under normal circumstances she is an exceptional runner, but her laughter drains at her speed. Her sides start to sting, but she has no intention of stopping. Not with the footsteps that echo behind her, growing ever nearer.
Fenedhis.
In a fit of idiotic boldness, she jumps at a tree, trying to climb her way to safety. But just as her hands find purchase around the trunk, she feels two strong arms wrap around her waist. She knows immediately who they belong to.
A smirk spreads on her lips.
“Did you find that to be amusing?” Solas purrs into her ear.
She chuckles, sinking against him with her entire weight, and simply nods.
“Hmm” she hums and lets herself fall even deeper against him. He is drenched, damp and cold, but somehow heat still spreads through her where they touch.
Solas is undoubtedly strong enough to hold her up, but instead he lets them both glide down to the forest floor, his arms still draped around her.
She chuckles softly and twists in his grasp to look at him. His eyes are dancing, inviting. The expression makes her brash, daring. She leans forward and buries her face in the nape of his neck. His breath plays at her skin, sending tingles through her as shudders climb down her spine.
“You’re so wet,” she teases, giggling.
He gives a deep chuckle, a sound that makes her heart thump almost painfully against her chest.
“And who’s doing is that?” He asks.
She smirks, her teeth playing at her bottom lip. “Mine,” she whispers and feels him strain against her, and adds with mirth, “and Sera’s”.
His mood changes notably. He stills. She laughs.
“Are you cold?” she asks.
“It is a bit… chilly.”
“I’m sorry,” she teases, entirely without remorse.
“That did not sound sincere.”
“Sorry..” she mumbles again and nibs at his collarbone.
“I am still not convinced…”
He gasps aloud as her teeth gently sink into his soft flesh.
“I’m sorry,” she breathes against his skin. His heart practically beats in her ears. She hums softly as she feels his grip shift, his hand traveling slowly from her hip to her neck. He cradles her face with almost absurd care, as if she were delicate porcelain. His eyes meet hers with a fierceness that takes her breath away. It is the strange and all too familiar mixture of desire, vulnerability, and guilt. As if he is trying to tell her something, and asking himself for permission. As if he is on the edge, undecided if he should shut her out or tear her in.
For a while, he simply stares at her. Elgara is trapped in his gaze, unable to find the words as the tension rises. And then something flashes in his eyes and he pulls her into a kiss. His tongue plays at her lips for a moment, before she drags him in.
There is nothing else. No sounds, no place, no time, only he and her and the feelings of absolute, outright bliss.
And then she hears shouts that slowly find their way through the mist of her mind.
Dorian.
Shit.
Elgara slides off of Solas, reluctant but quick. She immediately makes to run, but something is holding her back. Tugging at her arms. It takes her a moment to realize what it is.
Solas has his hands around her wrists.
She shoots him an accusing look. And he … smirks. He actually smirks at her.
“We are here, Dorian,” he disclaims and she struggles against his grip.
“What are you doing?”
Oh no.
Elgara has never seen Dorian this unkempt. He looks battered and sloppy. Mud and moss coat him like a wild mabari. It does suit him though, makes him appear ruggedly handsome. Elgara wants to comment on that fact, but his expression stalls her words. His eyes are narrowed so far, it is surprising that he can even see them at all.
With a sharp release of air, he crosses his arm in front of his chest. “Ah yes. Why am I not surprised? Of course I would find the two of you… conversing.”
“I’m… sorry?” Elgara tries her best to swallow down her smile. Seeing Dorian this bothered really does make her regret the prank. Kind of.
“Oh you certainly look it,” he says sarcastically.
Elgara tries to feign innocence, but then tenses as she spots red, flowing smudges. “Is that… blood?”
His eyes follow her gaze. “Ah, no.” Lavellan breathes a sigh of relief. “Some kind of crimson berry,” he explains. “Sera thought it would be fun to pelt me with overripe fruit.”
It is nearly impossible Elgara to hide her smile now. “Well, it certainly compliments your outfit!” She bites the inside of her mouth. Hard. “Really adds to your overall look!”
Dorian gives a hollow laugh. “Oh if you find it this fashionable I am sure I could arrange something similar for you."
Lavellan shakes her head. “Oh no, thank you. I would hate to copy your outfit!" She shrugs. "Besides, the red would clash with my hair.”
Dorian makes a dismissive gesture. “Nonsense! I think it would suit you perfectly."
"You want to punish me so badly you'd even let me imitate your wardrobe? I'm flattered!"
This manages to draw a chuckle from Dorian. "You really are insufferable, you know that?"
Lavellan lets her grin spread across her face. "Yep. I'm pretty much the most annoying person ever." She raises one brow. "It's because I'm the leader. Or maybe that's why I am the leader." She shrugs. "I keep mixing them up."
Dorian gives a full blown laugh. For a short moment they settle into a comfortable silence.
To everyone's surprise, Solas is the first one to break it. “Perhaps they should begin redeeming themselves by mending the tent." He suggests. "Before moving on to more trying tasks, of course.”
Dorian raises his brows in surprise.
Solas face is an impassive mask, but Elgara thinks she can detect a flicker in those sky-blue eyes. “I would say, them assuming most of the camps chores for about a week would be appropriate.”
Lavellan looks at Solas with a mixture of betrayal and disbelief.
“Are you serious?”
“It is only fair.”
“What? It was just a prank…”
Dorian chuckles. “That is easy for you to say. You have not been drenched, confined and assaulted with rank substances."
"To be fair," Elgara starts, trying to improve her position, "that last part's on Sera."
***
The sun is high in the sky, burning happily away at the land below. Elgara is scrubbing a pot, trying to clear the dry grease. Sera slouches around the campsite, half heartedly collecting the previously spend crumps of bread.
Dorian and Solas lounge in the cooling shade of an oak, quietly enjoying the rest of their meal. Until Dorian speaks up.
“Oh Sera dear, I think you’ve missed a spot.”
She scoffs. “Arse.”
The Tevinter lays a hand to his ear, as if to hear her better. “What was that?”
“Arse.”
“Ha." He clasps his palms together. "Charming as always," he teases. "More flan please!" He says and waves his plate like a silk fan.
Sera’s miffed eyes meet Elgaras and both crack a smile. Then bursts out in spontaneous laughter.
“Worth it,” Sera remarks.
“Oh, yes,” Elgara agrees and absentmindedly licks her lips. “Definitely worth it.”