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The sense of overwhelming dread woke Anise from sleep. Nightmares were becoming far too common of a theme in her dreams as of late. She shivered in cool night air that leaked through the cracks in her window. She tugged on the flimsy night shirt she had donned, and wished she had worn something heavier. She rolled over and closed her eyes once more, hoping sleep would find her quickly.
Find her it did, and brought with it flashes of horrors with sharp fangs and claws dripping blood groping for her. Violent images of her being ripped apart flooded her mind’s eye. She shot up out of bed, hand clutching at her chest as she fought to take a solid breath. Her lungs burned her from in the inside out. begging for air that was not coming. Her mind raced, filling itself with scenarios to impossible to come to fruition and yet she could not stop them from yeilding. It just reminded her that at any moment, the Elder One could strike down upon them with his army of mages, who could transform into demons at any moment to consume them all. The thought that this could be her last night in Skyhold surrounded by her surrogate family scared her more than any nightmare ever could.
The anchor flared with excruciating pain. Her cries sounded louder than they truly were as they ricocheted off the tall stone walls, surrounding her in a version of her own hell, filled with the sound of her pain.She tried to calm herself, she truly did. But the anchor was not having any of it. Each pulse sent a fresh wave of pain through her arm, into her neck and into her skull. Tears rolled down her cheeks despite her best efforts not to cry. She was stronger than this, she had to be.
The pulses did not stop, nor did they lessen. Anise curled in upon herself, willing the pain to ease with no luck. When it became clear she was going to have to seek help, a fresh wave of pain rolled over her. A pain altogether different than the one ripping her apart from the outside. Her heart seized at the idea of seeking him out at this hour. She pushed back the memories of times this late at night spent together, they would only increase her suffering. She needed his help, plain and simple. He had soothed the ache of the anchor before, and she was not about to let the fact it was the middle of the night stop her now.
She stumbled out of the bed, knocking over the vase of dead crystal grace on her nightstand and somehow managing to drag some of her fine orlesian silk covers out with her. She cradled her exploding palm to her chest, its aura cascading around her in an ethereal manner. The broken glass glinted off the magic in her palm showing her where not to step to reach the stairs. She moved through the barren halls of skyhold with no problem, she had mapped out the route to his room by heart. Many a night she had stolen away from her tower to his bed for comfort, comfort that he had so willingly gave at the time.
She steeled her heart, this was no time to be living in the past.
The hall passed by her in a blurr, barely registering her throne and the shadow it cast on the marble floor by the torch light. She sped through the rotunda hall and the rotunda itself, not stopping to admire the craft painstakingly painted upon its walls as she normally would have. Instead she continued on through a set of side doors, down the corridor that she knew would lead to Solas’ quarters.
Her fist met the wood of his door in a hard embrace, three times.
It was yanked open as her third knock landed.
“Solas,” she managed, before another explosion of pain erupted from her palm and coursed through her arm. She collapsed as the light flared, distracted too much by the pain to be ashamed by the fact she landed at his feet. She couldn’t have remained there longer than a second before firm hands grasped her and hoisted her up into awaiting arms. She did not fight it, though a part of her recognized she should have. She had to right to be in his arms this way.
Without question, he carried her into his chambers. The paintings on the walls passed by in a blur as she was rushed to his bed. A bed that held the memories of love making, of their pillow talk, their quiet laughter, their intimacy. The furs atop its mattress welcomed her like a sigh, melding around her thighs as her weight made them sink. She was aware she had fallen back upon them against her will, and they embraced her like she had never left. The smell of him embedded there was overwhelming, enveloping her with a sense of comfort she had yearned for since Crestwood. A musk of rosewood, paint, and something else that escaped her at the moment, as it threatened to take her back to more pleasant memories of when they had shared the space as one. She closed herself off to it and opened to the pain.
He pried her hand away from her chest and began to chant under his breath. She flinched at the sudden probe of his power that pierced her skin. It did not go unnoticed. Sensing her discomfort, he loosened his grip but continued his spell, ensuring there was distance between the two of them as he knelt beside the bed.
Cradling her burning hand within his, he murmured in her ear a spell she could not make heads or tails of. The agony worsened before it lessened. She cried out and he recoiled from the noise. She hated that his face twisted that way, as if she had physically slapped him.
She wanted to fix that, but she didn’t know how. He had shut her out. Entirely. He kept that cold, clinical distance she hated. And he knew it. He knew better than anyone. So she rejected common sense and reached for him with her other hand. Her fingers found his tunic and pulled. There was resistance at first but it didn’t last. She guided him forward.
“Please, hold me,” she barely managed to say, shaking with the effort to hold herself upright.
She knew it was unfair of her to ask for such a favor, it was cruel, almost.
Regardless he slid behind her onto the bed, pulling her to his chest to hold her there as he set the spell. The warmth of his embrace eased a fraction of the tension that had been building inside. Her chest heaved as another surge flared. She rolled against him as he pinned her down. The urge to thrash was reduced by the safety of his arms as he clasped her tightly, keeping her laying on him. Pale light filled his palm as he smothered her own with it. She focused on the light as it raced through her hand to tips of her fingers, blindly glowing before extinguishing itself. The room fell into utter silence. In the safety of the dark, the sweet release came and her pain ebbed away. Her head fell back against his chest, sweat making her hair cling to her face. The rise and fall of his chest was calming, and she laid there unmoving for a minute, syncing her breath to his, relishing the in silence that had descended between them. He brushed away strands of her hair that had laid claim to her forehead, and nearly whimpered at the contact.
“You will be alright, it has passed,” he whispered, tucking a sweat stained strand behind her ear.
She sorrow welled up in chest, near bursting. The last time he had whispered to her was a reassurance of his love. She so badly wanted to believe him, but he had broken that trust. Shattered her heart. She did not want to tear away from him, but knew she had to at some point. And the sooner she did so, the less pain she would have to deal with later.
But despite logic, despite knowing what should have been done, she didn’t. She laid there, listening to his heartbeat slow from frantic to steady. She did not want to move. And he made no point to shift her either. Instead, she squeezed the hand that held onto hers, and received one in return. And so they laid in silence, unmoving save for the rise and fall of their chests, breathing in syncrony. His thighs becoming a protective barrier on each of her sides. How easy, she thought, that they could slip right back into each other’s rhythms . It unlocked something in her that she had shut out. Tears stung the edges of her eyes and for the first time since that lagoon she let them fall. They raced down the plains of her cheeks, tracing the line of the chin before dropping onto her shirt, thick and heavy.
“Solas.” It came out as a whisper.
She broke his hold with ease, and his arms dropped from around her to rest on his thighs. She turned to look up at him and found in the dim light he had glanced away to glare at the dark wall on their right. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek. It was damp.
“You should leave,” he said, voice hoarse with strain.
The wounds in heart burst at his words.
“If that is what you want,” she said, and pulled herself upright. He shifted his leg off the bed to give her space.
Sitting at its edge, she glanced over her shoulder at him, still fixated a spot on the opposite side of the room, unable to meet her gaze. She followed it. On his desk was a single, seemingly fresh cut bunch of crystal grace.
“Tell me you meant it. Tell me you want me gone,’ she said, glaring at the flower.
“I never said that.”
She fisted the bed sheets before turning to him. “Yes you did. Tell me it is what you truly want.”
When he finally did hold her gaze, her heart thrashed against her ribs. Even the dark could not hide the depths of the sorrow in his eyes.
“I said you should leave, not that you had to.”
“Then I choose not to.”
She crawled back to his lap, straddling his thigh. With a gentle caress, she wiped him clean of the tears that stained his cheeks. He pressed a light kiss to her palm.
“This will be painful for both of us come the morning, Anise,” he breathed into her hand.
“We might die tomorrow,” bowing her head, she traced the line of his jaw with her nose, seeking comfort she knew was inappropriate. But she could not resist. “And if I do, I don’t want my last night alive to be spent alone. Besides, waking up every morning without you is already painful.”
He pulled her body flush to his, gripping her tight, fingers twining into her hair. “This is my fault,” his voice was muffled as he spoke it against her temple, and she couldn’t have been sure that was even actually what he said. . All she wanted was to feel safe, to not feel lonely. To feel like everything was going to be okay, in the only way she had come to know how. With him. It felt like an eternity before his lips grazed her own. But they did.
It was gentle, subtle at first. Soft presses, delicate and cautious. One to the corner of her mouth, another on her chin. To the tender spot on her neck and back up to her lower lip. He lingered there, capturing it with a slow kiss. Heat blossomed deep within her, the petals of her desire unfurling each time he touched her with his lips.
Her anchored palm dropped from his face to grip the collar of his shirt. Slating her mouth fully against his, she lured him into a delicate rhythm. His fingers clenched in her hair, pulling it the way she liked. She moaned, darting her tongue out to run along the seam of his mouth. It was not long before his lips parted to let her in. He became insistent, sliding them lower onto the bed as he submitted to the will of her tongue. His other hand slowly dropped from hair, gliding over her hip to claim her thigh with an encouraging roll of her hips. How good it felt to finally feel him beneath her, to feel him in valley between her thighs. He gasped, allowing her to push him down further against the pillows.
“I want you,” he confessed against her mouth, his hand gaining confidence as it wandered closer to her sex.
She released his collar and splayed her fingers out on his chest. His heartbeat quickened under her hand. She let her fingertips dig in as she dragged them down his torso, his breath hitching as they dipped below his belly. She traced the length of his budding erection through his leggings before cupping him. He shuddered at the contact. Gently, she tugged, massaging him. His hands detangled themselves from her hair and went to the laces of his leggings. Without breaking their kiss, he loosened them enough to pull them down to his mid thigh.
Anise dipped her fingers between his legs as he spread them. One finger stroked the sensitive skin just behind his sack, that rested in her palm. The muscles in his lower abdomen tightened in response.
It only took a few more strokes and light squeezes before he stopped her to take off his pants entirely and toss them onto the floor. Finding the edges of his tunic, she yanked it up. He raised his arms to help her ease it over his head. He made quick work of her own nightshirt, flimsy and sheer as it was. He pushed her down, positioning himself over her with wandering hands. His knuckles brushed her breast as he explored the curves of her body. His fingertips were warm as they drew idle designs on her skin, making their way lower and lower. Far too much time had passed since he had taken her, made her feel pleasure in ways she had never thought possible. He bent over to kiss her belly, fingers hooking into silken fabric of the smalls he had left on. He took them off slowly, dragging the silk along sensitive flesh in a way that made her shiver. His lips left a trail of heated kisses from her stomach to the soft hair that framed her sex. But the kiss he placed upon her there was his most tender yet.
Seeing him nestled in the valley of her thighs brought make memories of the first time he had explored her with his mouth. How she had to lean against the garden wall to keep from falling over while knelt in the soft grass, lavishing her among the sprawling crystal grace. And to remind her of their love making, he would leave a vase with a few freshly picked on her desk every once in a while. It was their symbol, their flower. Their love.
How she had missed the feel of his tongue pushing past her folds to claim the sensitive bud for his mouth. How she yearned to be pushed past the edge like that day in the garden. To be trembling under his touch. She braced herself for the climax that was surely going to break her by gripping the headboard above. Her breaths came in pants as everything in her grew taut with each flick of his tongue, and rhythm of his mouth. He sensed it too, and gripped her hips tighter, not letting her pull away or writhe out of his control. But writhe she did, seeking friction, anything to come faster. And when she did, it was with a crash, with screaming muscles and rush of ecstasy. A noiseless sob formed on her lips as he held her suspended in that moment. He pulled away to leave wet kisses along her inner thigh, the only evidence of her orgasm he had left behind.
She reached for him and he obliged, cradling her. She wanted to remember this moment forever, the how the heat of his skin felt pressed against hers, the way his thumb traced the outline of her bottom lip, and especially the way he gazed at her. She had never felt more loved, more cherished by anyone more in her life. Her lips trembled as he lowered himself down to kiss her. She was greeted by the presence of his damp cheeks and knew she wasn’t the only one committing this to memory.
He guided her legs further apart with his own, slipping one hand under her knee and raising it to hook over his hip. His cock was thick and heavy as it rested against her inner thigh. She groaned as he rocked slowly, sliding it along her skin.
“Take me,” she commanded quietly, with one hand clasped on his back and the other reach down to guide him in.
His hand met hers as she wrapped her fingers around his swollen length. She rubbed him against her slick folds, coating him in her arousal.
The sensation of being filled by him always drew a gasp from her lips, and tonight was no exception. The soft sounds of her pleasure were muffled as she buried her face into his neck. He pressed into her slowly, unrushed by the fingernails she was digging into his back. He let out a hiss of his own as she tightened around him, once fully seated inside her. He moved slowly, letting her adjust to having his cock buried deep in her core.
Too long they had spent away from one another.
Too long had they had spent not inside each other.
Their love making had always been spontaneous, existing on borrowed time and stolen moments. Moments she would have gladly continued to steal, had he not broken their relationship. And here they were again, filling each other once more on time they did not have, time that was not theirs to take. But take they did.
She peppered his throat as his pace quickened. She opened herself more, letting him penetrate deeper within her. Each roll and thrust heightened the tension coiling between her thighs. Her back arched as she let out a pitched moan. She quickly pressed a knuckle to her mouth to hold back the noises he so easily pulled out of her. They were beginning to be impossible not to make.
“No… let me… let me hear you,” Solas said, panting tugging her hand away from her mouth, “please… let me… hear...”
His voice cut off in a strangled moan of his own as she tightened around him. She held nothing back. She let him hear everything, every whimper he drove out of her with the snap of his hips, every sob of pleasure he coaxed as he filled her, over and over, and over it all became too much. Her vision went hazy as her climax overpowered her senses. The rush of heat down her spine straight to core left her writhing, bucking against him. The waves of her orgasm wracked her, and the sounds she made echoed in harmony around them in the bedchamber.
“ Vhenan ”, he cried out, spending himself within her as she clenched around him firmly.
Her eyes welled up at the endearment as her traitorous heart soared.
He had called her Vhenan.
She guided his mouth to hers and claimed him once more in a desperate kiss. His tears mixed with hers as they ran down her cheeks.
“ Ar lath ma .”
When their breaths became sobs, she did not know. What she did know was that he was suffering just as much as she was.
But at least, if only for this night, they weren’t going to be suffering alone.