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Lavellan walked among the high, wild Grass that tickled her palms, when she kept them above its’ surface. It whispered under her bare feet, cushioned her steps, like those Orlesian rugs she is very often gifted. There was a warm breeze coming from behind her, tall, white trunked trees hummed melody of life.
“It’s over there.” She heard voice of her beloved. He stood two-three steps from her, looking at something in the valley. A hut, wooden, with roof that was occupied by flowers.
“You were born there?”
“Yes. I left it when I was in my teens.” He reached to her with an open palm and she accepted it. They walk down the field, Fellara watched everything with wonder and amazement. “It is a pity that it turned into a city.” He sighed heavily.
Dalish touched the white fence as if it was an altar. She slid her finger around the top of it, relishing with the feeling and smell of warmed wood. At the other side of the fence, there was a vegetable garden on the left side of the house, and flower garden at the right side. When they entered the yard, she couldn’t contain her excitement.
“What is it, vhenan?” asked Solas coming to her, encircling her waist with his arm.
“It’s your home. Your, vhenan! I’m excited.” She clapped her hands and kissed her love on the cheek. “Show me!”
“All right, all right! But I don’t think is anything to be so excited about.” They walked into the house, briefly stopping at the porch, when Fellara noticed some rare herbs drying below the roof, and entered the house.
She felt like a sinner that trespass the land of a god. Everything was so beautiful! Wooden floor where color of milk coffee, the walls, oh the walls where covered with paintings! She immediately recognized the style. She looked at him, mouth wide open, then at the walls, then at him again. He burst with laughter.
“Oh Creators! Who painted those?”
“My mother. She was the artist of the family.”
“And your father?” Solas gestured toward rest of the room.
“Carpenter. He made all of those.”
“You’re shitting me! They’re like those of noble families!” She came up to a table with a top made with many-colored pieces of wood. She touched it, like an scholar would an ancient vase. The flowers that hung below the roof, made it all feel like paradise. There were some other tables with jars and boxes, most likely with more herbs and cooking utensils. The windows were painted too! And the ceiling –
“Those are the stars that are above the hut.” She looked back at him, with a widest smile she could ever do, and jumped him. She kissed him so enthusiastically he laughed. He also had to prop himself on one of the tables not to fall down. Solas knew what she wanted to say, and what he wanted to hear. Those words… If she had said them, he would abandon everything. Because she, Fellara, his vhenan, standing in the middle of his humble home, enchanted by it’s simple design and material, was something he dreamed about when he was younger.
“Are those stairs?” she asked already walking toward them.
“Yes, on the floor there are bedrooms and my mother’s painting room.”
“Bedrooms, you say.” She wiggled her brows and ran up. He swallowed and followed her. She looked at his parent’s bedroom door, but left them closed and walked toward the end of the dark, narrow corridor and opened the last door wide. And stood still. Solas stopped in the middle of the hall, and waited for her reaction. He remembered his room very well; a bed, working table, some books scattered around the floor, clothes hanging in the wardrobe. The room was wooden, but the young boy he once was, was bored with brown color. So he tried to enchant the walls, floor and ceiling to change colors. And they did, after many fires and frosts.
“How…? It isn’t paint!” She looked around the small room, and looked at him.
“Magic, vhenan. I was bored. As you could see, there were no children around, so I had to find myself an occupation.”
The room’s colors were slowly changing, like droplets of ink in a glass of water. Blue, green, violet, purple, orange, like a fog it travelled around the walls.
“Oh dear.” She said suddenly. He looked at her and blushed when he followed her gaze. “Solas’ bed.” She turned around, and walked backwards until she fell on the moss mat. He cleared his throat and looked into the opposite direction, picking up some books. “Solas.” She called him, not even trying to hide the merriment from her mouth. “Solas.” She prolonged the ‘o’ deliciously, making him shiver. “Don’t tell me you never had a wish.”
“I had many wishes, love.” He responded trying to calm himself down. It was the Fade, they couldn’t and shouldn’t partake in such activities.
“That one wish that every boy has.” She said with low voice. He heard his bed hiss as she moved on it. “Of getting a woman, and loving her on it.”
“Well, I cannot deny it.” The mage looked back at her. She was covered by the wolf pelt his father gave him on his thirteenth birthday, and she looked very good in it. Too good. Mouth-watering good. Breeches-to-tight good. She lifted a finger and invited him closer. Lavellan had to bite her lower lip to stop her giggles. Her lovers hungry eyes just made it worse.
“Come to me, love. Come.” She called to him like a siren would a sailor and he followed her song. He kiss the finger, then open palm and the pulse on her wrist. Their kiss was slow and sensual, their embrace tight and hot. Solas pushed her flat on the bed, then hung above her, kissing every patch of skin visible.
“We shouldn’t love. It will attract spirits.” He wanted to get up, but she grasped his shoulders and kissed him again. Hurriedly, she started disrobing, teasing him, making it impossible for him to say no. She knew him too well. Lavellan knew which smile should she wear, how to angle her neck to reveal and highlight her clavicle he so loved. Soon, he was sucking on her skin, leaving marks that never truly happened. Her blouse ended on the floor, together with his green vest. She laughed when he pulled violently on the pelt to reveal her flat stomach. With a growl he threw it across the room, making Lavellan more excited. She was always attracted to his naked arms, especially when the muscles flexed below the surface.
“We are in the Fade. And you said that everything is easier to you in here.” She said outstretching her arms toward him, embracing his neck, pulling him towards her. When he felt her nipples on his torso, she shivered. “Then maybe you can enter me?” she asked in a whisper, right into his mouth. He kissed her, passionately. For a few minutes she felt how he fought with himself, only to loose to the desire. He brushed their hips together, making her hiss and moan. They did a quick job of removing their clothes.
She lied flat on his bed, in his home. Even if it was only in the Fade, he truly felt as if his dream came true. There was a beautiful woman the he loved above his life, willing, with legs opening. And a heart in love with him. He groaned when she pulled on his cock, and positioned him. He entered her fully, and there was no pain, as they were in a land of dreams. There was only pleasure of her tightness, of his roughness, or her wetness and his hardness. The she arched, like those flower bows his mother used to make, and called him, his name. The name his mother and father gave him. There was no way for him to withhold his pleasure. He came, with a loud moan, chanting her name and praises.
Next thing he saw was her, but the not-Fade her. Sweaty and spent. He pulled himself to sit up, and the wetness around his crouch made him believe that they truly did it. He looked back at her, smiling. He kissed her brows, tugged her in, and fell asleep right next to her, clasping her hand with his own.