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A Willing Sacrifice

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When Ellanna disbanded the Inquisition, she eagerly put aside the mantle of Inquisitor and laurels of Herald. She was no longer the figurehead to a prophet she did not believe divine. The journey, marked by her foolish pride had lead her across Thedas: past the rolling hills of Orlais, through the unforgiving Anderfels and into the heart of Tevinter. Whether it was fate or fortune, this was her final destination: the northernmost reaches of Tevinter, in a ruin that was one a village where a young man named Solas came into being.

Who he was, other than the elf she loved, was no longer clear. The trail of Solas was not an easy path to follow. She had to disguise herself among Fen'Harel’s discreet operatives. They were marked by silence and anonymity. At this moment, as she knelt on the ground and dug her fingers through the coarse dirt, Ellana wondered at his intentions. Had he removed her vallaslin to make her to make it easier for her to hide among them? Perhaps he wanted her to find him, but she could never be certain. Regardless, here she was: defiant and hopeful.

The veil was so thin here, she could feel the full weight of the Fade. Solas was very productive, of that she had no doubt. However, she would find him. ‘If he was anywhere, he would be his home,’ she thought keeping her anxieties concealed beneath steadfast hopes.

The air was bitterly cold, despite the warmth of Tevinter as a whole. Her hair was tangled by the brutal winds while she balanced on the ground. Even though her arm was long gone, Ellana’s footing was certain. “He stopped the Qunari invasion to meet me. To help me,” she whispered. “There is still good in him, I know.” Ellanna refused to stop believing in his nobility. He was a rebel god who fought against the Evanuris. A defender of the innocent and now he sought to bleed them and restore a world that was long dead. ‘If I lose faith, then how could Solas find himself again,’ she asked herself often. Her desperate aim was little more than a wish that kept her from collapsing from exhaustion.

It was not easy, but Ellana focused her energies and followed the trail of rift magic. It was a vague suggestion at best but she recognized his signature. It was nearly seamless. He understood the song of the lyrium and heard the shards of the Veil. It was a beauty in minor chords. Her heart rose when she heard the crunch of footsteps and dared to hope before glancing upward. ‘Please, give me one more chance to save you,’ she prayed, seeking the strength to confront him.

Solas observed the hunched figure in the distance. ‘Far from a proud fighter’, he noted. He heard Ellana’s prayers and his hardened his heart. She would not reach him, he could not allow it. He was Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf, and he would restore what was. Instead of allowing himself to feel the tender caress of her thoughts, Solas focused on his abundant guilt. He had warned her years prior that she could not follow him because of what he must do. Yet here she was, a true supplicant. Her soul was vulnerable and exposed to him. “Vhenan,” he whispered. He sounded darker, somehow more intent. She opened her eyes, pupil’s wide and eager. “You have found me at last. I suspect you have questions,” He revealed himself, stepping through the fade. His energy was different, more brutal and punishing. The Rebel God who freed the slaves in ancient days felt like a vengant force.

Ellana was suddenly afraid at the mere dominance of his presence. He looked like the Solas she remembered, as the he mastered the Veil. Whatever control she wielded over it from training and instinct was rendered inert as he drew power from the forcefield he created several thousand years ago. However, that did not matter. Ellana was not hear to fight him. “Solas,” she breathed as he touched her cheek. She did not resist him as he stared into her golden eyes, they were harder now and the lines on her face were more pronounced through age and wear.

He could not help himself as those fingers traced her jawline and raised her chin with a mere gesture. She was still young, but the innocence and youth of the First he met in the Inquisition was gone and replaced with a determined fervor. “It was not easy,” she explained. “The village that you appeared in was a legend and your servants are the paramount of discretion. I’m just better.” Ellana smirked, trying not to lose herself in the grey eyes that stole her heart years ago.

When Solas chuckled her heart skipped a beat. Despite the faint red glow, he found a way to lure her. She sensed the corruption of his magic and thought better than to allow him to pull her closer. However, she came here for a purpose. He could be saved. The pressure on her chin was subtle, but Ellanna was compelled to obey him. She was not sure whether it was the power that radiated from his magical essence or her own desires, but she followed regardless. “You should not have come here,” his declaration was melancholy. He knew her thoughts better than the young elf did. “You will not find what you seek, and I can only offer you pain,” he promised.

While his words indicated one thing, the control he wielded with the inflection of his voice was tender. There was a soft gravel in his voice, and Ellanna was compelled to draw closer. “I’m going to save you,” she appealed to him with her sincerity. Something she knew he loved about her. Her nails scraped the skin of his neck softly and he sighed. She was demure, appealing to his power, and it was almost intentional. She deferred naturally, but did not avoid his gaze. “I don’t care how. I’ll be your prisoner, do anything you ask. Just let me in,” Ellanna demanded.

Her gilded eyes met Solas’ gaze and he mourned, “You do not know what you ask, da’len.” While the memories that Solas kept so dear wanted to weep, but the Dread Wolf was his purpose. He was both the humble apostate and Fen’harel. The nature of his existence was complicated, ‘She does not understand,’ he reminded himself. Still, Ellanna did not blink, she stared at him with an unearthly intensity. She tried to find his soul in eyes that were marred by a red, blinking corruption. “I am no longer just Solas,” he tried to explain. Perhaps if she understood, she would flee from him before it was too late.

Ellanna refused to hear it. She had come this far and she would not fail now. “I’m not a child. I am not your Da’len. You will not disregard me this time,” she interrupted him in challenge. She had fought for him and when all the others had left him behind.

She was earnest and profound as she attempted to reach him, but there was nothing to find in his heart. He had broken it years ago and her plea only reached embers. It was not enough. Solas shook his head, much like the day the kissed her in the Fade. He admired the texture of her lips from afar, and the way her gaze was set so fiercely. Even though he still loved her, it could not be. A dark energy surged from within and Ellana cried out in pain as Solas grasped her hair in a fierce knot. He held her head entirely still.

He sneered now, suddenly brutal as he kissed her with a force that bespoke of ownership. He did not wait for her lips to part. He forced them apart himself and she struggled as he dominated Ellanna’s mouth. His tongue did not allow her to fight back and when she tried to meet him in anyway he pulled her hair with more force and she fought back tears. She could barely breathe and choked as he pulled away. “Lethallin, you will regret this,” he paused to consider his next words. He would regret is next actions more, but his war was just beginning.

Ellanna was a weakness now and he needed to know where she was at all times. She was still a key and he had to bind her to his service. “But you know how to find me. You cannot be allowed to leave,” he warned her. Solas could not keep the compassion from his voice. He was clouded with conflict, but knew what he had to do. She did not have time to respond when two fingers swept along her forehead with a simple gesture. She fell unconscious and he deftly caught her. In some ways, Solas grieved. He did not want it to begin this way, but he had no choice. The Dread Wolf would brook no weakness, he may have been Solas first, but now he needed to be Fen’Harel.

Ellana woke in the small cabin in Haven, her home while they Inquisition resided in the isolated village. The walls were comforting and familiar. The din of the wood was unexpectedly warm and the bed, while simple, provided a sturdy comfort. The cold air was pure and she could hear the faint songs of the Chantry sisters as they worshipped the Maker. “The Fade,” she realized. This was not unexpected, Solas was a master of the Fade. They shared their first kiss in this portion of the Fade. Ellana remembered how frightened she was when she went to kiss him, and how he almost did not respond.

She was a virginal idiot, but he kissed her back anyway. She barely had a moment to breathe before his hands were at her waist and Solas dipped her back. He even kissed her twice, unable to help himself. Her cheeks were bright red at the memory. Back then things were simple and she was falling in love with a humble elven apostate. It took a moment to realize she was a prisoner in the fade.“Is this so bad, Da’len?” Solas asked, as he opened the door to the single room cabin.

Here he was idealized. A benign smile rested on his face and he walked into the room with a pleasant countenance. Solas bowed his head gently, the slight genuflect caused light to reflect from his head as he took a seat next to Ellanna. “Hahren, it is a pleasant memory,” she remarked. He sounded softer, more at ease here as his hand rested on top of her own and he grasped her fingers delicately. “I missed your bedside manner,” she offered, an edge of flirtation in her voice. It was so easy to get lost in his eyes as a mellow calm settled over the space. The urge to rebel, or even find out where she was dissipated. She wanted to suspect Solas of trickery, but what was the point as he held her hand? Even if this was a memory, or a prison, Ellana wanted to be here, with Solas.

Ellana examined how their hands looked ,their fingers intertwined and locked together. She never wanted to let go. While she knew better, she looked up at him and felt Solas’ power over her. A faint warmth emanated from her abdomen and silence followed naturally as Solas gazed into her face intently. “I wish it could stay like this forever, Vhenan,” he whispered. His fingers brushed against her cheek. The energy that came from his hand was subtly persuasive, urging Ellana near. Her lips parted for him, and yet he had not yet kissed her as she waited to feel his lips on her own.

Solas was flooded by forgotten emotions and he could not resist it. Her lips were open and her breath dusted his skin as he memorized her features. He kissed her, imploring her lips in a subtle plea. Solas wanted her like this, open and innocent. The less she resisted the more he could pretend this was real. In this pocket of the Fade, he forgot the Dread Wolf, his purpose and indulged in Ellana’s sincere offering. However, Fen’Harel would not give in without a fight. ‘She gave herself to me,’ he suddenly remembered, feeling a surge of power. Ellana had surrendered herself and freedom to find him. The Dreadwolf recalled this and did not hesitate. There was no need for such gentleness.

Ellanna cried out in pain as the hand that cupped her cheek, gently urging her to surrender, gripped the back of her neck. She felt the urge to fight him against him but Solas would not allow it. He commanded her entire being as she felt his need to have her. It manifested as possessive insistence. At first, she struggled, but his growl pacified her. “You are mine,” he ordered. Ellana’s mouth was agape as she barely remembered to breathe. “Lean against the wall,” Solas stated. When he spoke, Ellana obeyed. It was second nature, despite her desire to fight him, she was incapable. This was his prison and he manipulated her limbs with ease. Furthermore, she was surprised to find that she enjoyed it. It was as if following his commands made her want him more.

With a mere thought she was naked in front of him and Solas leered at her. “I recall you were fond of being restrained,” Solas remarked. He smirked as her wrist was anchored to the wall while her legs were spread lewdly for him. When Ellana went to answer, she discovered she had no voice. What else would the Dreadwolf take away?

She trembled as he touched her. First, he focused on her throat, squeezing gently as he invited Ellana to kiss him. She hesitated before he began to apply more force to the hand around her throat. When she met his lips desperate to breathe, he released his the grip on her neck and his hand drifted lower. The way he tugged at her nipples was almost painful, but her body betrayed her, growing wet from his rough and crude attentions. “That’s it, Vhenan,” Solas encouraged as he smelled her growing arousal. He pinched and tugged at her breasts, leaving marks and welts while he kissed her. Slowly, he dragged a sharp nail along her skin. He began between her breasts and traced down her stomach.

The Dreadwolf was satisfied by her pain but more intrigued by her lust. When he reached her core he circled her entrance and chuckled as he felt the moisture that gathered. Ellana bucked against his hand, while his thumb stroked her clitoris carefully. He could not bring himself to be rough with the pearl as his soaked fingers encouraged it to grow. Solas coaxed it from its protective hood and applied a teasing pressure. He wanted her to delay her orgasm and remind her that he was in command.

The finger that had been toying with her finally entered her and Ellana’s entire body sighed. She seemed to stretch, despite her bondage and exposed her throat once more. Her eyes were shut tight in bliss. Another finger joined the first one and she bucked against his hand while he crooked them. He was a mere few inches in when he discerned the spongy membrane and applied blunt physical pressure. Solas murmured something indistinct, and Ellana’s voice. Her hips thrust against his fingers as she cried out in climax. Her perception of reality fluctuated as she shattered around his adept, unforgiving fingers while he forced an powerful orgasm from her body.

He was not gentle as another finger entered her wet core repeatedly and without mercy. His hand pressed into her with other-wordly force, until her voice wavered and fell silent. Ellana’s eyes felt heavy and she looked through him. She was not herself, but possessed by a force greater. For the first time, she was uncertain of her purpose here and seemed to forget herself. Fen’Harel’s divine power surged as she felt his essence compel her. “Wake,” he commanded, grateful that he had caught himself before he indulged in the pleasant fantasy of being only Solas. Wordlessly, she obeyed, compelled by a force stronger than her will to resist.

As she was forced from the fade, Ellana struggled to wake. Perhaps it was the side effect of how he touched her. She shuddered, recalling the how much she wanted Fen’Harel’s touch again. It was so different from Solas as he spread her legs and made her orgasm by command alone. Even in her dreams there was nowhere to run.Ellana was helpless and bound to Dread Wolf. What would her Keeper think? Still, the dampness in her small clothes made her realize that in her most secret of hearts she wanted to be here.

At the moment, she had to figure out where “here” was: as far as Ellana could tell she was in a cell, but it was akin to a monastery and far from a true prison. Her bed was comfortable enough and she was clothed. However it was not the refined armor she wore to find Solas, but a simple shift. The linen was soft on her skin and she tricked herself. In truth she expected much worse from the Dreadwolf. She forgot that Fen’harel was a part of Solas just as much as the humble mage she loved. “You are in the mountains,” Solas stated, reading her thoughts. He entered the meek room and dominated it with his presence.

Ellana searched for the door that he came out of and saw that there was none. “Which mountains?” she answered, smirking. He always had a way of not quite explaining his purpose, it was a trait he had both as Solas and Fen’harel. She could muster little more than impish sarcasm as he drew near to her. He grinned at Ellana’s reply. Solas pulsed with dark red energy that she immediately recognized as red lyrium, now that her mind was less distracted. Ellana wanted to hate what he became, but found herself conflicted. Despite the corruption his fingers felt the same as they graced her cheek and brushed aside a stray hair.

Ellanna did not flinch. Carefully, she reciprocated the gesture. His skin was warm from the tainted red lyrium and she felt a connection to him immediately. The red lyrium’s powerful essence was intoxicating as his very nature compelled her as the dormant magic of the anchor flared. “We’re connected, Vhenan,” he explained, answering her silent question. Solas held her gaze and cupped her cheek with a soft force. “The anchor was my magic but you made it your own, Dalen.” He sounded impressed, his inflection marked with a point of pride.Regardless, there was an ill-intent infused with each word. He did not need to say the rest. Solas explanation left Ellanna entirely powerless. She was his alone, bound to Fen’harel.

Even if she could fight back, she had surrendered to the Dread Wolf. Though misguided, she still submitted to him. She was a willing sacrifice. Her golden eyes dropped in epiphany and she felt the ghost of her arm. “You understand, then?” Solas spoke, relieved. “That was why you could find me, Vhenan. I let you.” There was a finality in the words he imparted to her. All her efforts to find him, the distance she traveled was little more than a pilgrimage. She wanted to fight back, to regain the agency that his revelation stole from her, but the urge to rebel tempered as they continued to speak. HIs voice lulled her into a false serenity and she raised her eyes once more. Her hostility melted away entirely as she asked, incredulous, “You wanted me to find you?” Her inquiry was so delicate as her the Dreadwolf exposed her deepest insecurities.

Solas was suddenly reminded of the young woman who he met in Haven. Lost, but he could guide her once more. ‘Perhaps further aggression would not be necessary,’ he hoped. The Dreadwolf and Solas were held in balance as Fen’harel. He did not want to indulge one aspect more than the other. “You are a focus, Dalen,” he encouraged. She was so open to suggestion as his lips lingered just beyond her grasp. Intimacy worked far greater than the defiance and his purpose did not seem to mind. “Help me unlock the veil,” he offered. “You once wanted to join me.” Ellana felt his mouth so close to hers and wanted to kiss him. His fingers cupped her cheek, guiding her into another embrace.

Even the warmth of his tainted corruption was faintly distracting.Despite the warm insistence in his voice and benevolent expression that pled with her to relent she did not accept the invitation he offered, “ Hahren, I will save you. You don’t need--” Even though the defiance was absent from her voice Ellana spoke with a troubling courage.

Fen’harel did not approve. The red lyrium surged as he frowned, yet he sounded sad. “I see that you will not relent,” he observed. He spoke disdainfully, “But, I know what it is you crave more than saving me, Vhenan.” Solas sneered and kissed her with violent passion. Fen’harel showed no restraint. Instead he ripped the shift from her body. As Ellana gasped from the sudden cold and Solas deepened the kiss. His tongue drew hers into a tangled dance, just so he could force her to surrender once more. It would be so easy to lose control as he forced her to the mattress and pinned her with both physical strength and spell that left her limp.

Ellana’s pulse raced when he spread her legs apart and she could not move them herself. She had no idea why he was forcing her. He traced her hip bone and then the pads of his fingers danced between her thighs. He did not touch her on purpose, but laughed as she moaned in frustration. She hated herself for wanting him now, after everything he had betrayed. For even if she could move, she would not have forced him away. Ellana wanted him now more than ever. “Yes, that is what you truly want,” Solas whispered beneath her ear as be pinned her. She sighed as he brushed the outer folds of her labia. “But what have you done to earn that?” he asked and pulled his hand away.

The corrupted warmth that now defined Fen’Harel left her as he stood. She remained stuck on the bed. Solas could have lifted spell but chose not to, and it heightened her lust. She whined in pain as he denied her both sexual release and the freedom to hide in her shame. He left her in a deliberate need and humiliated her with the reminder that she truly did want this. However, it was not enough. “I will save you, Solas,” she stated firmly, her voice untouched by strong emotion. Still, tears formed at the corner of her eyes. She would show no weakness, no matter how he debased her. Her pleas fell on deaf ears as he left Ellana to her own devices. The spell would wear off on it’s own.

Chapter Text

Before Ellana was the Inquisitor she took the simple pleasures of waking beneath the boughs of the forest for granted. Wind rustled through the leaves as songbirds greeted the coming day. It was what she loved most about the Dalish way. The camp was her truest home and here, no matter what happened, she was safe. Granted, the rustic simplicity became predictably mundane once daily chores began, but it was a small price to pay for perfection. After disbanding the Inquisition, this was a paradise Ellana was more than eager to reclaim.

She sensed Solas’ familiar presence and pressed herself against him. His mana fluctuated as her actions woke the drowsy elf. He was not yet ready to wake and held her hostage with a lazy insistence. “Vhenan,” he murmured, kissing the back of her neck. He dragged his teeth across the skin, teasing her sensitive flesh before complaining, “It’s too early.” Her cheeks flushed as he punctuated his objection with a sharp bite and Ellana gasped aloud. She knew that she was free to leave, but she spent too long in the Inquisition wishing for this precise moment: waking in his embrace and basking in his adoration.

Ellana shifted in his arms and saw that Solas’ eyes were still shut, in defiance to the burgeoning light of day. His face was at peace and his lips lifted in a dulcet smile. He licked them in anticipation of her inevitable kiss and painted a breathtaking line down her spine. Solas’ fingers pulsed with a gentle, rejuvenating magic and Ellana bridged the scant distance between them. She captured his mouth in yearning kiss as he woke her body and soul. The moment was openly playful, parting his lips and she sought his tongue. Briefly, Solas indulged her. He dug his fingers into her hips , feeling the tempting flesh give way under his skilled hands and Ellana craved more. She didn’t care if the rest of the camp heard them.They parted and she sighed into his shoulder, aching for him.

It had been one kiss, but she was already agitated. Solas smirked at her suffering and teased, “As much as I would love to taste you, my heart.” He taunted her with a chaste peck on the lips. “We promised Deshanna we would wait until we are bonded.” Ellana pouted, her attempt to draw him into another kiss thwarted by his flawless logic. The Winter Palace and satin ribbons flashed in her mind as she recalled their first time together.

She adored the smell of Solas as he cradled her in his embrace, but it was not enough to sate her desires. Still, she accepted his judgement as he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Alas, my heart, we cannot wait much longer. We have our duties.” Ellana feigned offense as he untangled his arms from her slight figure. He met her false outrage with a patient smile that soothed Ellana’s exasperation. “You are many things, but I know you are too gentle to hurt me,” Solas explained. He stretched his limbs, lifting his body in a graceful arc. He was taller than most elves, and the tips of his fingers brushed along the canvas tent above.

Ellana mirrored his actions, knowing that once they left this tent the day would begin in earnest. She resisted frowning at such knowledge. Being a Dalish elf was not a quiet life, but she refused to trade the noise of the clan for all the peace the world had to offer. Ellana was a Dalish elf and soon Solas would join the clan tonight. Although his vallaslin was concealed by the muted light in the tent, the intricate pattern of Mythal rested on his brow in a soft golden hues. He was of the people now and things were exactly as they should be.

The morning sun was remarkably forgiving. Perhaps it was Solas’ spell from earlier, but Ellana felt brighter and was more eager to face the day. The hunters had left camp earlier that morning and as the First, she led a class of young mages as they learned the basics of magic. She spied Solas in the corner of her eye as he spoke with the Keeper. He was eager to learn the traditions of the People. Still, her primary focus was on the children as they meditated. First, they were required to exercise their focus and concentration before she showed them any spell work.

The younger children fidgeted, impatient to learn more than how to breathe. The older students took advantage of the few times they would not be asked to do anything. “Your will is what allows you to focus. Magic is a weapon, like a fist or a bow. You must train yourself to understand your body and your limits,” Ellana stated. She forgave the few giggles that erupted from the small children and hushed them, “Only a few more minutes.” At this announcement, even the experienced students were eager. Today, they were going to craft a rudimentary stave and learn the physical aspects of spell casting. Directing the flow of mana was associated with form and technique, not intuition.

She glanced over to Solas once more. He was no longer speaking to Deshanna, but admired her with his arms clasped behind his back. ‘Damn him,’ she thought, blushing at the intensity of his gaze. She was still frustrated from his attentions this morning. While teaching young mages was distracting it did not ease her impatient longing. Ellana fought her instincts and took a deep breath, as she instructed her students. “You are free,” she announced. At her words, the children released the rigid posture and rushed to the artisan’s wagon.

There was something remarkable about Solas in the light of day. Perhaps it was because of the vallaslin. He wore them like a crown. It circled his head with a grace that stood out from the rest. It even gleamed with a rosy sheen and the red glow reminded her of a blood moon. It was almost sinister. She blinked, suddenly uncertain, plagued by a relentless doubt. Even though everything seemed fine, something was out of place.

Solas approached her with calculated steps. “My heart,” he nudged gently. “You seem thoughtful.” Ellana’s expression was fixed as she weighed a matter of supreme importance. However, Solas’ presence was enough to distract her racing thoughts. He brushed her lips with the softest of kisses and caressed the smooth skin of her cheek. His fingers brushed along her vallaslin and Ellana melted into his touch. His actions were inappropriate, but she didn’t care. Even the his most mundane affections made her want more as she reciprocated his kiss and teased him with pointed bite on his lower lip.

Ellana prayed that he would never stop kissing her. She was pleasantly bewitched as he parted from her and raised an inquisitive brow. Her mouth felt unpleasantly dry as she answered, “It was nothing. It’s just strange to see you with vallaslin, I think.” Ellana simply could not remember her thoughts. Her mind felt strangely empty and Solas smirked, evidently pleased by something she had said. He cradled her hands within his own, squeezing them affectionately as he guided her toward the artisan. Once this task was completed, she would prepare for the bonding. Ellana followed obediently, she wanted nothing more for this day to end and find her way back into Solas’ arms.

Deshanna wore the mantle of age with pride. The lifespan of the ancient Elvhen was a cherished memory, but Ellana took comfort in the certainty of death. She knew her place. One day she would become the Keeper and guide her clan as Deshanna had done for so many years. Ellana admired the pale blue hue of her gown in the polished metal. The linen was expensive and obtained from human settlements. It reminded her of the silken gowns worn by Orlesian noblewomen. Deshanna pleated the skirt carefully. The waist rested just below her navel, above her hips and flared out like a bell. Ellana hardly recognized herself. “Deshanna, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she said softly. It was too much, she realized. Normally, the dress was handed down between generations, exchanged between clans, and was something of true significance. This was nothing more than a pretty ornament, yet she was still enchanted by the wild flowers embroidered in the hem.

Deshanna was far too proud to answer her question directly. Instead, she looked doubtfully upon the gown and complained, “I’ll admit, it’s not to my taste. The back is far too revealing and I worry that you may catch a cold.” The Keeper fixed a collar around her throat and the rest of the fabric draped along her lithe form before tapering at her narrow waist. The pale expanse of her back was exposed and revealed her lithe strength with toned, firm muscles. “You are a vision. You would tempt the Dread Wolf himself,” Deshanna said tenderly, before she pressed a motherly kiss to her cheek.

As Deshanna left with a wink, Ellana twirled one last time. The layers of fabric lifted and the delicate blue hue of the gown reminded her of early summer sky. The gown was a rare work of art and the Keeper left her alone to admire the gown before the ceremony began. For once the vows were uttered the camp would be taken in joyful celebration and there would be no peace for Ellana to enjoy after the bonding.

In the sincere of peace of the tent, Ellana practiced her exercises. She took deep, cleansing breaths as she wove a few simple spells out of habit. “Solas chose this. It’s not because I wanted it,” she reminded herself, as if it was the only truth that mattered. She whispered the mantra once more, “Solas chose this.” This time it stuck and the corners of her mouth lifted in as smile. She used magic to paint her lips, there was no harm in an illusion or two. After all, once they shared the vows Ellana would have little use for a priceless gown or painted lips. Every strip of fabric felt like a cage and the braids which bound her hair restrained her base desires. She wanted to be wild and free. To feel the cool air on her naked skin as Solas’ fingers tangled in her dark burgundy hair.

A shudder coursed through her entire body. She felt it from the tips of her toes to her top of her head. When Solas kissed her it was nothing short of divine. He drove her to the edge of abandon with a simple gesture. Just imagining the crook his finger made Ellana want to find Solas and drag him into the tent. She silently vowed to skip the bonding ceremony altogether. Her thoughts were absorbed in self-indulgent fantasy when she heard a voice from just outside of the tent. “Vhenan, are you alright? Ellana took a stabilizing breath, it was only Solas. He pulled aside the tent flap and he appraised her thoroughly.

She gazed at him with bright golden eyes and a revealing blush on her cheeks. He openly admired her exposed back and the collar that encircled her throat. Ellana felt like prey as he watched her with the intent eyes of a predator. His vallaslin gleamed with bright red mana. He stretched out his hand with authority. “My heart, it’s time,” he commanded. She followed, all notion of timidity abandoned. Ellana was born to be his bride and nothing else mattered. Solas’ presence removed any doubt. “You are beautiful beyond compare,” he whispered beneath her ear. Between his intimate attentions during the morning and the agony of waiting for the bonding, she wanted Solas tear to the dress from her willing body.

The Keeper smiled with knowingly. “I promise I won’t take too long,” she said gently, her voice rung with empathy for the couple. Solas’ impatient grin revealed he longed for Ellana with equal ardor. She memorized his expression in this exact moment. He was calm and assured as the Keeper spoke, “These two have gathered before Clan Lavellan to proclaim their love and join together until the end of their days. Ellana always looked beyond the camp, but her devotion to Clan Lavellan and her duties always brought her back home.” Meaningfully, Desanna paused and turned her gaze to Solas, “And she brought us Solas, who came to us from the heart of Tevinter. He was an elf without a home, but we are not one to deny a heart that is true. He brought with him the wisdom of the Fade and the gifts of a dreamer. But most importantly, he captured the heart of our beloved Ellana.” Solas should have been humble, but he could not abandon his namesake. He held both her hands and cradled them with care.

This moment, more than anything Ellana had felt that day, was real. Solas’ hands were warm, pulsing with his essence as their mana intertwined. “We are happy that Ellana found her way home,” the Keeper said warmly, “She has grown in patience and beauty and when my time comes, she will lead you with poise and wisdom.” Her tone denoted great respect and admiration. Ellana may have been the First, but Solas was her hah’ren. He guided her when Deshanna could not.

The sun set below the trees and the music of the forest complimented the reverent silence of the clan. Even the children were respectfully silent as two lovers gazed to each other in adoration. Ellana lost herself in his soft grey eyes, freckled with shards of lavender. Solas kissed her fingers gingerly. In that moment, everything changed. “Ma Vhenan enaste var aravel. Lama, ara las mir lath. Bellanaris,” Ellana chanted. Her voice sounded foreign as Solas smiled expectantly. The oath wove around her like an enchantment, lingering on her skin almost imperceptibly before it bound them together. She felt an inexplicable tightness in her soul as his mana rippled through her.

The doubts that once nagged at the corners of her mind didn’t matter anymore. Solas compelled her to look at him. His eyes were enrapturing, laden with a keen edge. Even though she discerned the darkness that haunted the hidden colors of his eyes, Solas was all that she wanted. He held her face with a possessive tenderness and Ellana sighed. He imparted a spell through the tips of his fingers, and as if on command, she kissed Solas outright. She surrendered herself to him. She had sworn to spend her life with him and probed his mouth with an impatient tongue as he she parted his lips in desperate fervor.

Even as he returned the kiss with insistent dominance, Ellana was not afraid. He ended abruptly as Deshanna clicked her tongue, lightly scolding the amorous couple. She was breathless, possessed by a sensation greater than herself. Solas did not release her, but guided her thoughts with a wry smile. “My heart, you are impatient,” he whispered along the seam of her lips. He tempted her to yet another kiss before declaring, “You did not let me swear my vow to protect and posses you. Should the gods themselves intervene, you are mine.” He sealed his words with a searing kiss, stealing the very breath from Ellana’s lungs. She knew then that not even death could separate them. They only existed in this exact moment and leaned into his chest. All sense of uncertainty dissipated as she wove her fingers between his. Within moments, Solas led Ellana away from the camp. She followed, sincere but confused. “So, we aren’t going to help them set up the feast?” she asked. Her voice was bright and clear, despite her mind, which rebelled.

The landscape around them shifted and changed, but Ellana did not have time to grasp the fluctuating scenery. Solas chuckled with characteristic arrogance, “Vhenan, do you truly think they expect us to spend our first moments as a bonded couple carrying casks of wine?” He chided her naivete, and Ellana realized how logical Solas sounded. It was very strange to spend the the night of bonding with the rest of the clan especially when she wanted nothing more than to let him claim her entirely. She wanted to feel the heat of his kiss and surrender to his desires until the ends of Thedas.

Ellana was overwhelmed by bliss as he lead her through a narrow corridor. Solas did not release her hand as they entered a cave. Instead, they traveled the winding corridor until a small clearing was revealed. The grotto was bathed in twilight and the Fade was a breath away. It was an isolated alcove, away from the world. An pristine pond was surrounded by low hanging trees whose boughs reflected in the water’s seamless surface. At some point, it had been used as a nest for some creature that Ellana could not identify. However it was not the remnants of life, nor the familiar fauna that stirred her mind from its delirious slumber, but a memory that she could not place.

Ellana’s heart ached for something lost. A slow realization dawned over her. The intangible distraction that clouded her mind fell away, leaving her with the precise knowledge of exactly where she was. She tried to find strength in pain as she drowned in her memories.“I...we’ve been here. At this spot, I know it,” she spoke urgently, addressing Solas directly. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes and she fell to her knees. He was running away from her. Shaking his head as he rejected her. She fought for him, but she was stuck in place. “Solas,” she asked, her voice quaking. Her chest heaved as a deep sob rolled through her entire body. Her knees sunk into the damp grass.

Solas observed her despair as the illusion shattered around them. Her tears were like acid, they burned at his soul as she remembered everything. At first, his instinct was to console her. Her gaze pierced his soul and he felt his resolve weaken yet again. What power does she possess? Fen’Harel asked, more curious than concerned. There was no reason to rush. He expended more energy than necessary to sustain this fantasy and she had nearly broken his hold on several separate occasions. “My heart,” he stated with detachment, “It’s because we have.” Solas wanted to embrace her once more and weave yet another spell that would make her forget. However, he steeled his will and pushed his heart aside. He needed to protect himself from the power she held over him.

It was not in the Dread Wolf’s nature to be gentle. Ellana fought his physical control as he grasped her forearm with a searing grip. His touch burned and she attempted to pull away from his claws, but the effort was futile. The fade was his domain and she obeyed as his eyes flashed in dangerous reminder. Ellana saw the warmth in his eyes transform into hate. He smirked at her childish attempts to resist him and chuckled softly, “Tsk, tsk,” he warned her, his voice was poised. Even if this was about lust, the Dread Wolf was not some common beast. He knew what he wanted and how to extract it. “You pledged yourself to me, and I accepted your offering. Is that anyway to treat your master?” He reminded her of the vows she swore. He had claimed her soul, but her body was unshackled. That needed to be remedied.

Ellana did not want to believe it and it took a few long moments for her to properly acknowledge the deception. The Dalish camp and their bonding was a ruse, a cruel trick, and yet it worked so perfectly. “You used my ernest desires to entrap me?” Ellana asked incredulously. Her words were no more than a hushed whisper. His betrayal cut too deep. The hope she once held so dear was nothing more than a joke to him. Her thoughts circled as released her wrist and she shrank away from her lover. Yet, despite it all she couldn’t despise him. She glared at the Dread Wolf, her eyes focused upon him like an arrow fixed to a target.

An ordinary mortal would have been intimated by the look Ellana gave him, but the Dread Wolf shrugged indifferently as she backed herself against the cool, smooth walls of the grotto. Her expression dropped as she realized there was nowhere to run. He followed her with his eyes. They shone with a primordial brightness as he cornered her. They both knew she was his now, it was merely a question of what he did with that knowledge. “I merely used what tools were available to me. I am honestly surprised you were able to draw me in so easily. You are more powerful than I thought,” he stated. He spoke with natural authority.

Ellana’s doubts were justified and her heart pounded. The Dread Wolf took his time, giving his quarry the opportunity to acknowledge her servitude. As he approached her the corrupting essence of the red lyrium called out to her. The substance had a will of its own and seduced her the fringes of her thoughts while his fingers pulsed with the same energy. He traced the hollow of her exposed throat and Ellana melted into his touch. She heard the song of the tainted lyrium through the tender caress of his fingers at it pulsed in her veins. Right now, she hated him, yet her body craved him. He uttered a spell, not concealing the magic he used to enslave her further to his will. At its completion the gown unraveled at her feet and exposed her to his lecherous appraisal.

The Dread Wolf explored her body with profound patience. “We ought to consummate our bonding,” he suggested. He murmured beneath her ear, enticing Ellana to listen to the song more closely as he painted her bared skin with the pads of his fingers. In response, she moaned aloud, betraying her basest desires for him. The Dread Wolf smirked at her submission, and smelled her loathing as Ellana avoided his eyes. Whether she looked upon him did not matter, in fact it gave him a sinister thought. “Unruly slave,” he chided her. His voice sounded alarmingly playful and the pads of his fingers were filled with a corrupting warmth that seeped into her mana. He traced the sides of her throat with caution, barely squeezing her neck.

Ellana had no idea what to expect. She was his prisoner and he toyed with her as he pleased. I don’t want this, she panicked, attempting to take back control. Even though the red lyrium distracted her as it coursed through her. Somehow she managed to concentrate. “Please,” she begged. The Dread Wolf gaze flickered up to her golden eyes. Even though he looked like Solas, she did not recognize the elf in front of her. “Not like this,” her voice cracked as she hoped to reach the man she loved, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

The Dread Wolf grinned at her resolve and responded with one word, “girem'lan.” It was an unmistakable command, each syllable reinforced by powerful magic. There was no way to resist it as the word imprinted on her limbs and he turned her effortlessly. There was no need for violence, for he could smell her fear and the beginnings of her arousal as he shoved her against the wall. He brushed his cock along her dripping slit and she writhed beneath him.

Lanaste, lanaste, lanaste, Ellana begged, even as the Dread Wolf taunted her. She whispered one word in quick succession, “Mercy.” However, the Dread Wolf was not sated by so meager an offering. There was nothing to make sense of as she drowned in the Dread Wolf’s possessive grasp. His breath was hot against her neck and she felt the keen edge of his teeth along the sensitive skin. He dragged them against her neck and Ellana swore that she felt fangs. Yet she had never felt anything so devout. In his own way, the Dread Wolf worshiped her as laved her neck in sharp bites and sucked on the tender skin.

Before she lost herself to the Dread Wolf’s caress, Ellana attempted to trick him in desperation to retain herself. She used her own control over the Fade to imagine silken bonds around her wrist and hide herself in a far more pleasant fantasy. She hid her reaction as it began to work. Satin ribbons encircled her wrist and she felt the warmth of the Orlesian fire place against her skin. She prayed the Dread Wolf would not notice as she began to thrust her hips back and grind against his erection. She could even feel his phantom fingers circling her clitoris, tapping at the sensitive pearl. His cock slid against the seam of her slit and she found pleasure in the fantasy that she created despite the Dread Wolf’s ruthless assault.

At first, the change was imperceptible. Ellana resistance dissipated as he stole her lust and consumed it for himself. The ambrosia tasted like the sweetest wine as he kissed her fragrant skin. However, instead of struggling against him, she rolled into his hips and teased herself with his prick. Then, he saw the silken bonds and growled. Sharp teeth brought her sudden, agonizing clarity. She felt his teeth dig deep into her neck. The ribbons became leather straps that stung as they grew painfully tight around her forearms.

Ellana cried out as his teeth sunk into her neck. Then, after the agony, she felt a decadent corruption fill her veins. Her thoughts were blurry as the living essence of red lyrium traveled through her veins directly and then she was overtaken by a sudden, rabid lust. Her entire being wound around the pressure of his bite as the Dread Wolf left his mark. Her soul fluctuated in powerful ecstasy as she came. The Dread Wolf claimed her and even though her throat was starting to bruise she felt nothing but desire for him. Then,he took her to the hilt with one swift stroke, and she broke around him.

The orgasm from his bite was nothing compared to the excruciating bliss she felt when his seed entered her. It coated the walls of her uterus in a hot, delirious wave. Ellana stilled as the Dread Wolf’s bathed his finger in his own release as it leaked from her core. She would beg for mercy once more, as he fucked her into oblivion. The motion of his hand was maddening as he circled her pearl firmly, taking the bud between his sopping fingers and milking it. “Girem'lan,” he repeated, the word wrapping her in it’s magic once more. When she came again, the walls of her vagina clamped down and he pumped into her furiously. She belonged to him, and her body would never forget it.

The Dread Wolf indulged Ellana’s her unwilling compliance as she came at his command alone. Her soul slipped away as her posture yielded. Any resistance fell away as Ellana collapsed against the Dread Wolf. While the shell of her remained, the woman that Solas loved concealed herself in the darkest corner she could find.

The Dread Wolf brought his finger to her lips and traced them with the sweat and cum from their coupling. Absently, she licked his fingers clean with obedient devotion. The unconditional surrender satisfied the Dread Wolf as he felt her tear soaked cheeks and shuddered as her lips sucked gently on his fingers. Even though Ellana had been forced to cum as he ravaged her, she’d wept though each cresting peak of pleasure that consumed her

With the fury of the Dread Wolf sated, Solas returned from the fringes of his mind looked upon Ellana. She slumped lifelessly in his embrace. He felt a cloying desperation. In the wake of the Dread Wolf’s relentless assault, she had locked herself away. He looked upon the sight of her ravaged body in horror. Despite the scrapes and bruises, her eyes were shut, as if she merely slept. Her breath came in an even pattern, but he could not feel her essence. The only force of life he felt was the Dread Wolf’s mark as it pulsed with red-lyrium. Ellana was little more than a doll in his arms. He had gone too far, and whatever happened next, she belonged to the Dread Wolf.

Chapter Text

It took the patience of Fen’Harel to save Ellana from the wound that festered on her neck. Much like the mark at Haven, it was a gift of his power. It was also capable of consuming her if left unattended. First, it poisoned her. Her life force seeped from the wound, but then he realized that red lyrium could be turned to a purpose. For the first time in many ages, Fen’ harel smiled. If it could hurt Ellana then it could also transform her into whatever he desired. He was intentionally gentle as his finger’s drifted along the curve of her jaw and recalled how Solas touched her as he imbued his hands with soothing shower of mana. A sincere smile crept on his features as he drew the his hand across Ellana’s forehead in a tender caress. Her skin was damp with sweat as she battled the illicit substance. Carefully, he moved the matted hair from her forehead and smirked as she leaned into his touch. Do not hurt her, he heard Solas growl in warning. He ignored the banal threat. More besides, Fen’harel had no intention to hurt the perfect leverage.

Ellana sighed, blissfully unaware of how he directed the red lyrium in her veins. Not that she felt anything but a pleasant, addictive warmth as he manipulated the corruption within. Her skin flushed in a bright crimson hue, but Ellana did not stir. Fen’harel tilted her chin with the tips of his fingers, imbued with ancient spellcraft. He could not help himself as he traced her satin lips. For a moment, his control slipped as Ellana’s tongue darted across her full lips. He felt the Dread Wolf’s keen and demanding lust. He yearned to indulge in the ripe and wanton sexuality of she inspired, but brushed the impulse aside. This was Fen’harel’s moment with Ellana and he would not surrender it.

The pad of his thumb rested at her chin before he followed the indentation of her larynx. He was tempted to wrap the rest of his hand around Ellana’s delicate neck. He wanted to feel her breathe beneath his fingers. Fen’harel resisted the urge once more. Such delicate spell work was an art form and he could not risk aggravating the wound on her neck. He required perfect subjugation. She was stronger than either Solas or the Dread Wolf realized. It was not so simple to deceive or intimidate her. However under the correct circumstances she could be molded. Her body was surrounded by an ethereal glow as he imparted t the final word, “Felgara...” He observed her body collectively sigh as the red lyrium was altered. Instead of harming her, it would change her mind with profane subtelty. His patient work completed, Fen’harel pursued a more pleasant task.

In a state of deep sleep, Ellana was vulnerable to his advances. He cupped her cheek once more, tracing her the line of her jaw. She leaned into his touch, and a haggard breath escaped her parted lips. Fen’Harel removed his hand from her face and pressed splayed fingers against her bare chest. Her skin was hot, still burning from the red lyrium and a precise spell grew from his hand. Small, strong vines of the Fade sprouted from his fingers and wound around her shoulders. They encircled her arms and crossed over her breasts. The snare was artwork as the tendrils created a decorative harness that coiled around her chest. They were loose enough that the elf barely noted them. As long as she remained pliant, she would feel little pressure or pain. This exercise was meant to deliver punishment. Instead it sought to merely control and contain. Briefly, Ellana struggled against them, but the tendrils behaved like a snare. Her brief resistance faded and was replaced with revealing flush that overtook her entire body as the sensitive and tender flesh of her breasts interacted with the bondage.

Fen’harel smirked, satisfied with his efforts as she melted into the vice. The vines nurtured the lyrium in her blood, strengthening her connection to the poison. It also negated the toxic effects, allowing him to nourish that connection without harming Ellana. He convinced himself it was merely academic curiosity as he brushed the firm bud of her nipple with the flat of his thumb. It could not mean something more, even as she responded with a weak moan. He recalled precisely how Solas touched her as he traced the raised skin of her nipple. He applied just enough pressure to tug gently at her nipple. Ellana strained in her bondage, but the tendrils merely reflected the energy and she re-absorbed it into her skin.

Ellana was lean from traveling and hardship. The soft curves he remembered were replaced with a sharp points and prominent muscles. Physically, she was stronger, but it was not her defined abdominal muscles he feared. It was her mind, keen and clever. Fen’harel was an artist, he traced the lines of her stomach, imbuing it with sacred energy before drifting to her bare sex. The tender flower bloomed beneath his practiced hands as he drew his fingers along her inner thigh. Her legs parted for him as he smelled her desire. The scent of her arousal flooded his senses and Fen’harel determined there was no harm in testing her limits. He removed the spell that kept Ellana sedated and began to touch her more intimately.

He began with her ankles, using the same spell that bound her chest to secure them on the bed. Fen’harel’s fingers ghosted her sensitive skin. Her mana sought his in desperation as it seeped from his fingers exactingly. They traveled from her firm calves and along the inside of her legs until he reached the apex of her thigh and caressed the skin of her labia. He kept his touch so light that she could not feel the tips of his fingers, just the echoes of his mana. Without even laying a hand on her, she was aching for him.

Ellana’s awareness slowly returned to her as Fen’harel finally touched her most intimate parts. Her senses sought to locate the fingers that touched her, attempting to make sense of the sensation that coursed through her. He touched the soft folds with an exquisite lightness. Ellana did not want to wake, whatever fantasy her captor indulged in it was certainly better than the reality she faced. She forced her eyes shut, defying her body’s urge to overtly respond and prayed for release as Fen’harel revealed her saturated core. She wanted to feel him inside of her, raised to hope as he teased a finger into her and gathered the moisture between his fingers. Ellana forced her body to remain still, despite his maddening attentions. Then, he moved to her clitoris. Her resolve failed as he coaxed the pearl from its protective hood. Her entire body shuddered as he toyed with the bud. He traced the bundle of nerves down the hood before circling the apex, gently at first. Ellana squirmed despite herself, but kept her eyes shut. She was so close that each swipe of his finger made her ache for more.

Fen’harel was a practiced auteur, but as Solas, he knew her better than anyone. He observed her struggle as he patiently teased her. Ellana would come when she acknowledged who brought her pleasure. There would be no lesson if she simply came with her eyes shut in blissful ignorance. He was tempted to expose her, but wanted her to give in without prompting. While he touched her, gently stroking her clitoral bud and watching the passion of emotion on her face. With each denied release, the red lyrium seeped into her nervous system. The song wove itself into her mind, releasing the dopamine from her brain into each nerve. Without knowing it, Ellana craved it as Fen’harel worked her core. Her release was a few moments away, perpetually, until she begged, her voice a penitent moan, “Please...” It was a whisper at first and Fen’harel ignored her. Instead he drew her closer, encouraging the behavior, “ Please!” She offered, louder. Her hips reciprocated his attention, following the delirious path of his fingers as he brought her closer to unparalleled ecstasy.

It was all she wanted now, Ellana didn’t care who or what offered it to her. I surrender, she thought. Suddenly submissive, she supplicated, somehow knowing the words to say, “I am yours, bonded and taken.” Her words were quaking as her voice wavered. It was hard to concentrate, so Fen’harel stopped his hand, no longer tormenting her. Instead, his fingers sat poised at her entrance. “I give everything for I am nothing,” she finished, only vaguely aware of the words she spoke. Between the song of the red lyrium as it urged her to submit and the pleasure he coaxed from her, she would do anything to feel an orgasm once more. Earnestly, Fen’harel rewarded her, thrusting his fingers inside her constricting channel.

Ellana’s eyes shot open as he crooked his finger along the spot that he knew unravel her, tapping the spongy wall with a relentless rhythm. “I accept your offering,” he whispered, bending at the waist. He breathed beneath her ear as her body erupted in orgasm. She screamed in both pleasure and anguish as her body instinctively struggled against the bonds, constricting the ropes that tightened with each movement. What was once a loose decoration became a strangling vice. His fingers worked with precision as a wave of pleasure and ecstasy washed over her for several long minutes. Once she was limp and content, he released her from the tendrils.

For once, she looked happy. Her gaze tender and revealing as lay in resplendent afterglow. It was not the act of a spell that subdued her, but the invasive drip of the red lyrium as her nervous system rewarded her compliance. Fen’harel knew it would fade as soon as she could think clearly. Now, however she smiled lazily, watching him with an unaware, dazed expression. Her lips parted as she waited for his next command, but it never came. Instead, Fen’harel pressed a his lips to her forehead and murmured a soothing spell. Her eyes shut as he gave his final command and she drifted to sleep. He could have taken more, he wanted to, but this was not about his pleasure. Not yet, anway.

While Fen’harel guarded her, it was almost impossible to discern what was real in her confinement. In the fade it is all true, Solas reminded her from a distant memory. She felt the bitter winds of Haven and the cold moisture of the snow on her skin. She resisted the memory. When her most private thoughts could be used against her, she kept her mind devoid. The Fade was both her enemy and her only respite from her suffering. Ellana forced herself to awaken, she would not let Fen’harel, Solas, or the Dread Wolf trap her again.

She opened her eyes to earthen walls of the cell and an intense, throbbing pain on her neck. But that was a dream, she panicked. Immediately, her hand went to where the wound lingered. The scarring was serrated, as if she had been marked by an animal’s maw and the skin felt infinitely tender. Ellana flinched as her fingers brushed against the inflamed skin. Though it was scabbed over, it was still painful to the touch and she curled into her stomach. Her entire body pulsed with the raw, arcane energy of the red lyrium and she felt it in each nerve of her body. It was like the pain of the anchor, but amplified a thousand fold. However, the pain that overtook her was replaced by a rush of lust that pooled in her stomach. The twin sensations were deviant as she both writhed from agony and suspended bliss.She cursed reflexively before hearing a warning chuckle at the back of her mind. Ellana had faced Corypheus, Red Templars and a Qunari Invasion but how was she meant to battle the slow unraveling of her mind?

Blinking wearily, she watched Solas with suspicion. If she could not trust her mind, then surely Ellana could not trust her eyes. “Dal’en,” Fen’harel intoned, noting her innate suspicion. His lips curled into a mischievous smile as he watched her come to grips with her surroundings. “For the moment, you are simply awake.” Ellana wanted to trust him, or at least trust something. The last thing she truly remembered was seeing Solas in that village. Everything after was a blur, and even though she felt pangs of hunger they were merely an echo of a sensation. How much time had passed since then? For all it mattered, it could have been lifetimes.

Ellana attempted to raise herself from the plain mattress, but her strength was defeated by a severe exhaustion. Fen’harel offered his hand, and for a long moment it existed between them. She could not, did not want to accept it, but what choice did she have? Despite his betrayal, Ellana was drawn to his outstretched hand, tentatively accepting his assistance. “Vhenan, there is no use fighting .It is changing you. The Dread Wolf saw to that. Fortunately, I was able to contain the red lyrium, it will no longer hurt you.” Ellana grasped at the straws that remained of her sanity. She saw Solas shine through, for a bare moment.

Certain things were as simple as breathing and feeling his fingers brush along the bruised, sensitive skin of her shoulder caused a wave of lust to ripple in her blood. Without thinking she leaned into the hypnotic warmth. Softly she whispered, “But...how can I trust you? You violated everything.” Fate had bound them on a twisted and brutal thread. She was moved by powers she barely perceived. The red lyrium did more than arouse her, it controlled her words. “I was disobedient,” Ellana replied, as if arguing with herself. Fen’harel’s interest was piqued as she seemed to struggle. He had not fully considered how much the red lyrium would affect her. Part of him even felt guilty. “Wait, what am I saying?” she suddenly begged, her voice robbed of all confidence. Even if she recognized the smug and arrogant demeanor of Fen’harel, she wanted it to be Solas.

He hardened his heart, ignoring the pleading tone in her voice. In one breath she was defiant, and then next docile. “I have yet to see and understand the full effects of the red lyrium on someone who has been touched by ancient elvhen magics,” Fen’harel evaded. He knew exactly what was happening, but could not bring himself to tell her. In truth, Ellana had found a way to surprise him before.

She pulled away from his grasp and pulled her knees to her chest. She was desperate for comfort but determined to find it anywhere else but him. “You didn’t answer my question,” Ellana sighed as Fen’harel raised an immaculate brow and bit back, “And you won’t...Well, if you won’t answer that can you at least tell me where we are?” He took a long moment to consider it before indulging her.

Despite everything, Ellana was drawn to the arcing perfection in his voice. The melody of his vowels entranced her as she listened with rapt attention. “The Fade is also a place, Da’len, but it is unique. You are hidden between realms using magic perfected by the Ancient Elvhen.” His words wove around her like a spell, and then faded. While he spoke, she was filled with unbidden passion. However, it left her with an unbearable emptiness. Ellana understood his words and was reminded of the world of doors that Morrigan showed her.

She glanced around the cell and saw no door. She looked for the eluvian, but found none. The little hope of escape she had suddenly dashed, Ellana spoke drearily, “Like the pathways of the Eluvians used by Ancient Elves. You could simply create a prison behind a mirror and lock someone away forever.” He nodded, as she discerned the truth of his words. “An oubliette, lost to time and everyone. Except you...” she added bitterly.

Fen’harel bowed his head and replied with a disappointing honesty, “It would do me no credit to deny it. You must trust that this is a mercy.” Ellana understood that he considered such a meager existence a mercy, and perhaps at one point she may have even believed him. However, after the vile deception that he had played upon her, and the rage of the Dread Wolf, there was no respite in a slow, strangled death.

Ellana scoffed as she absently wondered what, if anything was real. “I forgot your arrogance, Hah’ren.” She answered him in a fatalistic whisper though her voice strained by opposing forces as Ellana tried to understand herself. While they spoke, she found herself tormented by unrelenting desire and an even more driven hatred for herself. “You cannot expect me to believe that you want what is best for me,” she stated. Her faith in Solas had been shattered, but she could still save him if he understood how far he had fallen.

Something stirred in Fen’harel’s breast. It was a wisp of thought as he examined his lover. He saw the steel behind her eyes and allowed Solas to comfort her. In the long run, it would be easier to seduce her with honeyed words than violent submission. The red lyrium would complete its work regardless. “Vhenan,” he sighed, his voice touched with a warmth that Ellana recognized. Even if it was for a short while, she needed to know there was hope. That Solas still lived and was not some trick of her desperate mind. He gathered her in his embrace and Ellana dare not resist as he held her. Memories came crashing back, every kiss and lingering glance reminded her of what could have been. What part of her still wanted. They were trapped the eye of a dangerous hurricane and huddled together against a great storm.

Ellana leaned into his shoulder, nuzzling his skin with a grateful wanting. “I know this wasn’t your fault,” she whispered. “You would never hurt me like this.” The words were as much for her as the were for Solas. He did not reply. Solas had no idea how to tell her, instead he kissed her forehead as she stared into his grey eyes. Finally, Ellana's lips lifted into a warm smile and she asked softly, “Stay with me?”

At first, Solas was surprised at her request. He had betrayed her and taken advantage of her weakness. He would only hurt her further, yet here she begged him to remain. “You’re certain after...” His words trailed off. Absently Ellana nodded. She kissed the nape of his neck, pressing her lips to his skin. She threaded their fingers together, content for the barest moment.

Ellana’s mind was focused singularly on his presence. “I choose to trust you. Would you take away my only remaining freedom?” She asked him with such clarity and presence, as if ignoring the song that wove a subtle melody through each emotion.

Solas reclined back, moved by her endearing plea. “I would not,” he intoned. He pulled Ellana to his side and with a whisper the room transformed into the space they shared at Skyhold. She sunk deep into the mattress and within moments fell into a natural sleep. However, Solas lingered awake. He wanted to pretend this was real, that he did not understand why she was so open to him despite his betrayal: the red lyrium would bind her will slowly, until she was enslaved to it’s song.

Chapter Text

The memory of Arlathan was sacred, but fractured to the Dalish. Each clan remembered something different. However, the one constant was that it was bathed in light. It’s constructed memory was a gilded paradise where the elves ruled an ancient empire. The people clung to their ancient recollections with a desperation. Ellana had no idea what to expect when she awoke in the ancient seat of power restored. It was both alien yet familiar to her. Solas looked out over a balcony and beyond him she observed a glittering city. Her breath caught in her chest. There were no words that could possibly describe the wonder before her eyes.

Solas noted her sudden consciousness and turned from the balcony. His shoulders were covered in a deep green cape, threaded with resplendent gold. Even his wrists were wrapped in cuffs made of the the lustrous metal. His chest was exposed and briefly, the firm cut of his muscles distracted her. Her eyes followed a sculpted path down to his waist. His gait was almost imperial as he walked to her side. “Vhenan,” he said, offering his hand. Unlike the fantasy from the village, this world was unknown to her. Ellana’s thoughts were distracted by the luxurious and magical beauty. At this moment, she did not care that this was another mirage designed to imprison her. For hundreds of years, maybe even thousands, the Dalish had sought to recreate this paradise and she saw it as it was.

Without any hesitation she accepted his hand and he pulled her from the mattress. Everything was made of silk: from the sheets on the bed to the sheer curtains that wafted in the breeze. Even Ellana observed that she was draped in a dress of golden silk. It gave her the illusion of modesty, with a band of fabric wrapped around her breasts before it flared into a gown that revealed more than the expanse of her legs. It wrapped around her body, and fit with perfection. Even though collar she wore was heavy, the gold links looked impossibly crafted. The warm metal traveled down her chest and settled alluringly in the cradle of her bosom. “This is Arlathan?” she questioned.

Perhaps it was the overwhelming beauty around her, or a pleasant, winding melody that hummed in the back of her mind, but she did not question his intentions. Ellana did not see the need to resist. Solas would take care of her, here or outside of the fade. How could he allow further harm to come to her? It was something she wanted desperately to believe, just like the mirage of Arlathan that he summoned for her. “Yes, at least as I remember it. The Golden City is still tainted. This is but a memory I wanted to share with you,” he answered directly.

Somehow this disheartened Ellana. Even though the beauty of Arlathan appeared endless, like a vast eternity of beauty, she saw the limits of his vision in small dark alcoves and hidden recesses. She had wanted it to be real as she leaned onto the finely carved marble of the balcony railing. Her voice lifted, carried by the gentle breeze. She smelled the soothing aroma of crystal grace in the breeze and lifted her lips in serene smile. “Was this your home?” Ellana asked, her expression absent as she examined the horizon.

Solas glanced around the room, nostalgic for something lost beyond time. “It was when I resided in the great city.” He paced to an mural of the Dread Wolf and pressed his fingers against the tiles. “I was an honored devotee of Mythal, shown every luxury.” He stalked the entrancing curves of Ellana’s body, exposed by way the satin material rested against her tempting form. Her long legs taunted him as she crossed them and her hips shifted. It displaced the fabric and she beckoned to him without even realizing it. She toyed with the golden chain that hung around her neck, blissfully unaware of the physical purpose she served here. The Dread Wolf was keenly aware as she tossed her hair and lifted herself from the banister. The grace of Arlathan perfected her and he clenched his fist, suppressing the urge to force her down and remind her exactly who her master was. Even still, the image burned into his mind. She writhed as he held her down and gripped her dark red hair. He could feel her molten core embrace his cock. He loved every moment of her imagined resistance as she cried out in lust and pain.

The gentle pressure of Ellana’s hand on the chiseled expanse of his chest pulled Solas from the dark fantasy and she quirked her head in focused concern. “So you summoned all of your memories of Arlathan to show me a bedroom?” she teased. Her fingers curled into his chest as she felt his heart beat and turned her attention to the mural. Meanwhile, the Dread Wolf growled at her proximity, held at bay by a sheer thread of willpower. Her scent and his need to dominate her bewitched him completely. “That’s not very imaginative,” her voice was soft as she chided him. Something greater than themselves guided her as Ellana touched the side of his neck. She was drawn closer, and her breath hushed as he moved to kiss her.

As always, her lips were pliant and yielding. Solas tilted her chin in gentle gesture with the tips of his fingers and began to explore her open mouth gently at first. Lips touching and tongue tasting her with an ardent respect. When she started to reciprocate that restraint began to unravel and he demanded her obedience. His hands, once cupping her cheeks and drawing her into his arms, now tangled themselves in her hair and gripped the base of her neck. Ellana writhed as her blood sung for him. All that she knew was Solas as he wrapped himself around her entire being with his mana, holding her in a transparent vice. The only struggle he felt was her mortal need to breathe. “Would you rather I debase you in the streets of Arlathan?” he asked, his control faltering. The hushed words were muttered by searing lips as she leaned against him.

Ellana’s knees felt like jelly as she stumbled into Solas and his fingers encircled the intricate chain that hung from her collar. Suddenly, she was aware of its purpose and tried to back away. However, as her legs failed her the snare he had woven around her revealed itself. Solas caught her as she fell forward and smiled weakly as she glared at the leash he held in his palm. “Even here I am your slave?” Ellana asked both disappointed and surprised. Did she mean so little?

Her voice silenced the Dread Wolf, at least for awhile, as Solas released the collar and his enchantment dissipated. “Forgive me, Vhenan. I did not bring you to Arlathan to indulge in your carnal delights. I wanted to show you the world that was lost. Then, perhaps you would understand?” His heart sank when she stepped away from him and wandered to where the bed rested in the middle of the lush chamber. She glared at him with a questioning anger. Still, she resisted the low desire that pulsed in her core, winding its way through her thoughts. Solas approached her cautiously and wrapped his hand around her shoulder. Ellana did not resist as she leaned back and he pressed a kiss to her fragrant skin.

Solas could not find the words to express himself. What could he tell her that she did not already know. “Ma Vhenan,” he began to explain. “The Fade is complex and my memory is incomplete. Please at least have faith that I will not hurt you,” he offered. She felt compelled to drop her guard as Solas massaged her shoulders, soothing her deep, physical anxieties. Ellana relented as his actions eased the tension wound through her body. In her calm, she felt a profound clarity of thought. For the first time, she was able to discern the forces that warred within her lover.

In heated moments, Ellana detected the fury of the Dread Wolf. Fen’Harel was marked by composed indifference. However, she never noticed how much they warred within his fractured mind. Her resolve steeled at this sudden awareness, she had to save him. But how? Ellana considered. It did not take long for the influence of the red lyrium to return. It ate at her will to resist like a thirst, quenched only by the strongest emotions. She bowed her head, deferring to Solas before addressing him directly. “Then, show me Arlathan, hah’ren.” She spoke softly, demanding to be taken seriously. “I belong to you, this chain proves it. I will not run away. I swear it.” Ellana hoped it would appeal to him and did not realize that each syllable broke his heart.

She found new determination in this knowledge and turned within the circle of his embrace. Even as the lyrium eroded her mind with wicked thoughts, Ellana clung to her soul. For a few moments, focusing on the chain around her neck. She discerned the magic inscribed into the links. It bound her will to him, but only if Solas enforced it. Otherwise, the collar acted like a protection spell. Carefully, she placed the chain in his hand and curled his fingers around the golden links. The act was itself a display of submissive resolve. However her eyes burned like fire as she held Solas’ gaze.

She may have submitted to the Dread Wolf, as he claimed her with a furious bite in the Dalish village. Ellana could still feel his rage as she studied his face. She surrendered to Fen’harel, knowing the ancient evanuris was a careful and calculating force that was never to be underestimated. However, now she offered herself to Solas as she kissed the fingers she closed around the chain. “You do not know what you say. How could you?” he muttered. His voice remained subdued as his thoughts raced, “But, it’s too late. You bound...” Solas trailed off, his voice a hushed, disappearing whisper.

Ellana answered his quiet panic with boldness. She caressed his both of his cheeks, cradling them for a long moment. She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and then lingered there, “I am your prisoner by choice, my love.” Solas tried to rationalize her words, but the satin touch of her lips made him doubt his own thoughts. “I can help you,” she plead, “Show me Arlathan, my heart.” Ellana was temptation itself. She seduced him with promised compliance and honeyed words. She knelt before him, her knees sunk into the mattress beneath them. Solas followed, bewitched by her performance. Still, he did not release the collar.

Solas had not expected her to be so bold, she pulled the chain taut between them. The curve of her hip was artistic perfection, and for a moment, he longed to paint her. Was he so easily seduced? She persisted, opening her legs in wanton, inviting gesture. Delicately, she touched herself, parting her smooth lips as she begged, “My love.” He smelled her desire and it temporarily entranced him as she began to explore the folds of her core without breaking eye contact. He was helpless as he settled between her legs and she lay back against the nest of pillows that surrounded them. She was perfectly framed by the wafting curtains and din of her hair against the silken cloth. Her arched into his touch as Solas’ fingers intercepted her hand. He pulled it away from her saturated core and fought with himself before he touched the inside of thigh with a patient insistence.

Ellana moaned his hand brushed her core, the ragged breath escaping her lips in a revealing gasp. While she may have begun the seduction, he intended to finish it. “I could keep you here for days,” Solas observed as she began to lose herself. Red lyrium’s song wound itself around her mind as she languished in his caresses. “Tell me where, Vhenan,” he asked as he bent over her writhing figure and kissed the sensitive skin on her neck.

She somehow found a means to answer him. Ellana clutched the chain, squeezing it between her fingers, “Touch me, please,” she begged. She reached for his hand and placed it at the apex of her thighs. Solas bit her playfully as she practically directed his fingers. He allowed her to control his hand, curiosity compelling him to simply observe as she dipped them along the seam of her vagina. “There, my love,” she pled, carefully manipulating his hand as she fixated on the ecstasy that seeped from his touch.

The Dread Wolf smirked. She touched herself in earnest desperation. He conjured images of her surrender. As her lust crested with each touch, she saw herself through his eyes. Drowning in the throws of pleasure as he entered her mercilessly. Her physical response was revealing as she nearly peaked in that moment that he reminded her exactly how he could fulfill her. But that was not what he wanted. She drug his nail along the hardened bud and cried out in hushed ecstasy. While he wanted to pounce, the Dread Wolf boded his time, watching the chain she crushed between her fingers. “On your belly,” he whispered, taking control of his hand once more. Ellana obeyed him without question and the golden links fell from her hand as she moved to her stomach.

He opened her vulva, parting the steam with a precise swipe of his fingers. The wait was maddening as he merely watched her. She felt the cool air on her core and focused on the release that he had denied her. Finally, he touched her. The tips of his fingers were warm as he methodically spread the desire that dripped from her core. First, he circled her clitoris, now firm, and she bucked against his hand. Within moments her entire body was begging for release. She ground against him as he stimulated the bundle of nerves and as soon as she felt that highest crest he removed his hand. Her entire posture shrunk as she protested, “No!” This caught his attention. The lust gave her courage, she had lured him into this position and now mocked him for his kindness.

Before Ellana could comprehend the change, the Dread Wolf snatched the chain and yanked it firmly. Her back snapped painfully as he pulled her against him and she sputtered. It was as if he had punched her in the throat. In the same breath, he entered the struggling elf. Her walls enveloped his penis and the friction echoed in the base of his spine. “Greedy,” the Dread Wolf chided, taking her to the hilt. “How would it feel to never be sated? To never want anything but my cock inside you? To feel nothing but lust, desperate for anyone to touch you.” The chain glowed as the enchantment washed over her. His words were not an idle taunt, but a command as her walls clenched around him.

Her mind went blank as he forced her towards the bed. He wrapped his long fingers around her throat and squeezed gently as he fucked her once more. Ellana was hopelessly light headed, groping the pillows as she felt him invade her. Each stroke of his penis went deeper, until finally she felt him along her cervix. In that one moment, as he squeezed the very breath from her throat, she transcended. As she clenched around him, the Dread Wolf came, emptying himself inside of Ellana. He did not hold back as he pounded into her until at last she collapsed beneath him. Her entire body folded as she fell unconscious at his feet. “My heart,” he mocked, “do you think this is done?” he asked her huddled form. She did not respond. He shifted the enchanted links between his fingers and whispered softly into the golden links. The corners of his mouth lifted into a smirk. The Dread Wolf had indulged her fantasies with the Dalish Village, her subservience was his due.

Chapter Text

Ellana discerned the echoes of consciousness, hearing voices shrouded behind the dark veil of fatigue. How much more can I endure? She asked, Before what? She answered herself, wondering what the future held for her. Once, she knew. It was to save Solas from himself, but now she doubted even herself. Her entire body dragged, aching from exertion. First, she curled fingers in an attempt to force herself awake. Regardless, she felt sluggish. For time undetermined, Ellana had been Fen’Harel’s prisoner. She did not discern the physical ache of hunger. It was as if time was suspended beyond her awareness. Finally, she forced herself to an awakened state and observed her surroundings.

At first, it was bleary and she could not quite place the voices even though they sounded familiar. They were out of place and distant, until Fen’Harel spoke. “Finally, you awaken,” he acknowledged. As he spoke, Ellana fully stirred. Her senses were no longer obscured behind a nameless fog. “I had begun to think that you would disappoint my guests.” The mattress felt indulgent and looked almost like stage.She sunk into a plush mattress framed by dramatic curtains. The entire bed was oddly devoid of pillows, but framed with golden ropes, and vivid hues of red, purple and deep green. “My friends, forgive me for the delay. The slave was recently broken in, sometimes they take a few days to recover.”

A woman responded to him in a deep but sonorous voice. She sounded like pure velvet as she spoke. It was almost like Vivienne, the Madame De Fer. “Oh, you needn’t apologize for such a triviality. I understand that it can be a trying, but rewarding process.” Immediately, Ellana’s eyes shot over to where she heard the voice and saw nothing but a masked face. Was it really them? Or has he summoned all these familiar voices to humiliate me?

Even if she knew it was fake, it still haunted her. Ellana felt the impetus to move, to rebel and destroy this image. “Oh, look. The little bird is trying to move,” another figure noted. It sounded like Dorian. She recognized the haughty imperial accent and assured self-confidence. “I don’t think you’ve quite broken her. She might sing.” He added, with a condescending chuckle. Ellana shook her head. He was nothing but another disembodied voice.

All she could see was Fen’ Harel, staring at her with a commanding gaze. Her legs trembled as she was suddenly held in place and an abrupt warmth spread from her stomach. The red lyrium responded to her fear and she immediately felt the desperate ache of lust throbbing in her core. Irrationally, her cheeks flushed a bright, crimson red and she fell back onto an actor she had not perceived pulled the chain around her neck. “I doubt it,” a male voice added, marked by a southern accent that reminded her of Cullen.

The links of the chain seemed to glow as she was pulled into the arms of a voluptuous desire demon. Her touch was hot as sin.. Each fingertip left a rune behind as the desire demon imbued an enchantment on her skin. Suddenly, Ellana was aware that she was naked, but for the collar as the demon explored her body with a profound patience. I don’t want this, she panicked. But her body had other designs, responding to the desire demon’s seductive touch.

Suddenly, she heard a slight giggle in her mind, ‘You do want this, as Lord Fen’Harel commands.’ Ellana sunk further into the demoness’ embrace and her mind began to obey instinctively. She was vaguely aware of a spell being imprinted on her as she met Fen’harel’s demanding gaze. ‘Enjoy this,’ the voice of the demon snaked in her consciousness, ‘Even if you fight, it will not matter. Why not allow me to pleasure you?’ His eyes were cold as ever, watching with an amused grin. He did not need to speak to convey his wishes as the desire demon caressed her skin, drawing tantalizing runes on the pale flesh.

The red lyrium roared to life in her blood and Ellana moaned aloud as her tormentor finally touched her with intent. ‘That’s it,’ she urged her as the elf’s spine relaxed against the demon. Her deep purple lips quirked into a playful smile as she allowed the girl to fall back into the mattress fully. Even though she detected the most subtle dissent, the enchantment of the chain and her own magic sedated her with a throbbing, pulsing lust.

Ellana’s limbs were pliant as the demon tied her wrists together. She offered no resistance as they were pulled above her head. “So obedient, so good,” the desire demon whispered beneath her ear as she sat astride the helpless elf. Her flesh was so warm that Ellana instinctively shifted her hips to feel more. Part of her hated herself, the demon had not even touched her sexually, yet she craved this profane woman. Why do I want this? She asked herself, as the last remaining echoes of herself fought. This felt wrong, but yet it was exactly what she needed. The demoness smiled benignly once more, her heavy breasts swaying with an otherworldly appeal. The golden chains that pierced her almost black nipples shifting with the gentle motion of her torso.

Ellana watched her hypnotic breasts disappear from view as the desire demon bent at the waist. Instead, she felt them as the chain’s on her dark nipples scratched her skin. Her flesh was impossible sensitive as she arched into the demoness, craving any contact with the seductress. For a moment, Fen’harel was obscured from view and she almost forgot him under the influence of the desire demon. “Please,” she begged, in a voice that sounded so foreign. She could barely speak through the need that coursed through her veins as she was lifted effortlessly. The golden ropes that bound her wrists above her head were placed on hook and to her dismay the demon released the contact between them.

The desire demon had been a welcome reprieve from Fen’Harel’s intense and knowing stare. Her eyes were warm and molten, almost devouring her entire consciousness. Still, that empty bliss she felt when looking into the demon’s eyes were nothing compared to the power behind her lover’s eyes. She couldn't even hold his gaze, she wanted to feel empty again for something in his eyes made her afraid.

His face was a picture of smug command. Fen’harel reclined with the rest of them but only focused on her while the others spoke indistinctly. The desire demon appeared from behind her once more and began to draw her fingers down the elf’s arm. She shuddered as her fingertips traveled from her shoulder blades to the tips of her fingers. “What do you want from this spirit?” he asked. Ellana’s breathing was labored as she struggled to find her voice. She did not even notice being lifted above the mattress as the desire demon thrust a knee between her legs and spread them apart.

Ellana tried and failed to find her words as attempted to grind against the warm flesh that lay just beyond her grasp. The red lyrium in her veins overpowered her conscious thought and she only thought of submission to a creature that would have otherwise repulsed her. She needed to feel more, “My lord, let her use me in any way that pleases you.” She begged on instinct as her thoughts warped away from her defiance and into a rabid haze.

She locked eyes with Fen’harel as he held her attention. Ellana was dripping with need. She felt so worthless, so devoid of dignity but she did not care. Her lover’s eyes flashed dangerously as he seemed content with her begging, “Since you asked so obediently, I will allow it.” She sighed in relief, moaning as the desire demon gently drew the top of her leg along the elf’s exposed vagina.

Ellana felt a little more than a doll in the demon’s arms. She wanted nothing else but to feel her touch. However, and to her dismay, the desire demon withdrew as her captive nearly sobbed, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. She moved to a lever that gently raised Ellana until her toes were a few inches above the mattress. Absently, she sought to find the bed with her feet. She did not feel the strain her limbs, and barely noted her audience as the desire demon approached her.

Perhaps Ellana heard the words of spell, but it did not matter. The desire demon knelt on the mattress, where her toes feverishly sought to touch the solid ground beneath her feet. Her hands were gently ticklish and traced a lurid line along the curve of her hip. The tender, teasing touch left parched for more, and yet she giggled. An unexpected laugh burst from her mouth, as the desire demon lifted a leg on each shoulder. The pads of her fingers provoked yet another laugh as she caressed the soft skin between Ellana’s thighs. Briefly, the demon lingered there, teasing her victim to desperate hysterics before she pressed consummate kiss on her vulva, tasting the offering that Fen’harel had generously provided.

Ellana gasped aloud as she felt her tongue along her already drowning slit. It was too much as a deep moan escaped her mouth and she bucked against the contact. However, her captor was stronger and exquisitely talented, finding the hood of her clitoris with the tip of her tongue and drawing out the sensitive bundle of nerves. If she had any will to resist, the desire demon skillfully suppressed it with each stroke of her tongue. The runes on Ellana’s collar glowed as she began to feel the beginning of an orgasm overthrow her. The letters flared with a bright red magic and the links of the chains warmed against her pale skin.

It should have hurt as the metal links burned with an arcane spell, but it only enhanced her lust and made Ellana more sensitive. Even as the collar left a branding mark around her neck and down the length of her torso, between her breasts. Her cries of pleasure became indistinct pleading, as if her entire being melted into the desire demon’s skilled tongue. Her fingers pressed just within her clenching walls and she hooked them within her as she climaxed. How could she want anything but more as the demon devoured her lust and raised her soul to such ineffeable heights?

Fen’Harel watched as she came apart in undulating waves. He felt the strange sensation of thirst despite his omnipotence. Patience, he reminded himself. This, too, served a purpose as the desire demon mastered his mate. His erection ached and he longed to claim Ellana as she revealed the hidden depths of her soul. The mirage of her companions faded as he was forced to increase his concentration, but they had served their purpose as she was lowered to the bed once more.

Her limbs were slack and pliant. Carefully, the desire demon unbound her wrists and commanded Ellana to open her eyes. She complied without hesitation as her eyelids fluttered open. As a spirit of lust, she sensed the power of the Dread Wolf trying to escape the shackles of Fen’harel and hungered for his power as well. “Master,” she purred, indulging in the slippery juices that the lust-addled elf still produced. Her fingers probed the wetness and rubbed both sides of her engorged clitoris, reminding Fen’harel that she was still susceptible.

Ellana thrashed, her hips rising to meet the desire demon’s illicit touch, even as she tried to wrench away. The pressure was intoxicating and it built within her core, curling around each nerve as she was forced to endure another orgasm. A powerful scream wrenched from her lungs within a few scant moments and the desire demon smirked, “You suffer, let this woman please you.” Ellana whimpered as her mind was dominated by the lust demon, who controlled her effortlessly.

Fen’harel was sorely tempted, watching her body glow with an ethereal energy. She was shrouded in a bright red aura as Ellana crawled to him. “Please, my love. I want nothing more,” she begged. Her eyes were oddly empty, yet she looked so sincere. Fen’harel brushed her disheveled hair aside and his hand trembled as he fought to keep control of himself. He felt the fringes of the desire demon on her mind, but he did not care as Ellana untied his straining laces. He inhaled sharply as she swallowed his cock earnestly. She sucked upon him, her tongue wrapping from the base of his penis, circling around him. He grunted and moaned as the desire demon watched him carefully.

While Ellana sucked on his cock, worshiping the organ with each smooth lick the desire demon fingered her. She began with one finger, thrusting in while Fen’harel kept his eyes on the elf. She hooked that finger along the spongy membrane and then added another finger, penetrating deeper. With each thrust, the desire demon planted herself further inside of Ellana’s mind. If Fen’harel noticed, he did not care as she licked him attentively. She was an ideal vessel for the demon as she imprinted her will on already suggestible creature.

Ellana knew nothing but the ebb and flow of lust as it intertwined with the song of the red lyrium. She was losing herself to the debauchery, but she was already ensnared with no way to break the spell that wrapped around her mind and subverted her will. The desire demon added a third finger, stretching Ellana’s opening and using her arm to thrust deep into her vagina. When he finally came, fucking her mouth, she swallowed obediently. Fen’harel panted, almost exhausted when he felt the tendrils of the desire demon’s influence and his eyes narrowed. He lifted Ellana’s slumped head and saw that she was vacant, devoid of any thoughts. The lust that had sated him transformed into an external rage and the Dread Wolf roared into life. When the desire demon felt his aura grow she desperately tried to unwind the spell, but it was to no avail. The dread wolf had no mercy.

The demoness backed away, frightened as the dread wolf turned on her. the smooth marble wall icy cold against her back. His magic was wild, warping the fade around her and crackling with an arcane force. His veins were visible through his skin, as if it was worn from the amount of power that concentrated around him. She thought he would come closer but stood from her at arm's length. The desire demon watched as a ball of lighting emerged from his hand. It transfixed her, the seductress watching as it entered her forehead. He grinned a feral, red smile, using the red lyrium that had transformed him to pulse briefly. “You go too far,” he muttered before closing his fist. The energy suddenly expanded and her diabolical form fluctuated before it exploded in viscera across the once clean wall. Her death needed to be messy, a point must be made the Dread Wolf reasoned.

As the Desire demon died, Ellana collapsed from her still position. She grasped for air and tried not to cringe in pain as the demon’s putrid essence left her. She curled into herself, before realizing it was futile. She recalled everything. A choked, parched cry fell from her lips as she tried to make sense of the violation that had just occurred. She still tasted the salty essence of Solas on her lips and the runes had seared his mark of ownership onto her skin.

The Dread Wolf turned on his heel and saw his mate, clutching at runes on her skin, trying to scratch them away in hysterical fit of madness. When she felt his eyes upon her she begged, “Why? What have I done to hurt you? All I ever did was love you.” Ellana’s voice was ragged and her appearance wild and unkempt. In vain, she tried to scratch the brand from her skin, the collar having long since molded with her flesh.

The dread wolf rushed to her side, pulling her hands from further harming her skin. She was already starting to bleed as she dug the nails into her skin to mar the runes. “Hush,” he soothed. Ellana recoiled from his touch, but was too weak to evade him. Easily, he gathered her in his arms despite her feeble resistance. He pulled her hands from the broken skin on her neck and kissed the fingers. “I did not mean it to go this far,” he murmured.

Ellana blinked with uncertainty, unnerved by his sudden kindness. “But why?” She memorized his face, and saw the fangs of the Dread Wolf, rather than the placid veneer that was the more collected Fen’harel.

Somehow, she had calmed down and stopped struggling in his arms. “Vhenan,” he spoke softly, brushing her wild and tangled hair from her face, “You are mine. I promise that no one else shall touch you again.” She nodded, her expression suddenly distant and reserved. He saw what Solas desired in this woman, she was strong and determined. It was a mistake to have degraded her mind to this extent, but one that he could remedy. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and caressed the bite mark that still lingered on her neck. “Have faith in this, if nothing else,” he whispered. He listened carefully for her breath to grow even. He and Solas became of one mind as he dropped the illusion of Arlathan. If it was in his power to save her, he needed to reserve his energy before she paid the price for his hubris.