Lavellan has trouble concentrating after a bit of extra attention from Solas, and it winds up getting her into hot water.

Chapter Text

Honestly, she probably could have used some time off. Anyone could tell her mind was not all there, after the normally graceful elf tripped down the longest set of stairs in Haven, tumbling head over heels until she thudded to the bottom, severely alarming anyone within hearing range of her elaborate curses.

The only reason she had tripped in the first place was because Solas, that baldheaded, stupid faced, firmly muscled… Augh! Ever since he’d given her an unexpected taste of her own medicine, she’d been noticing him. Coming over the stairs, she’d seen him practicing staff stances in the courtyard, lithe body moving smoothly from one stance to the next, a tiny rivulet of sweat dripping down his neck, she imagined it running down his back, and the next thing she knew, she smashing herself against stairs, and then found herself ass over end in the middle of Haven, swearing in Common, Elvish, and Dwarven interchangeably.

Blackwall had been the one to rush over to help, kneeling to help her untangle from her own legs.

“You’re bleeding!” he exclaimed. He glanced around, his eyes falling on Solas, who had paused in his practicing, no doubt wondering what all the commotion was about. “Solas, come over here, can’t you fix her up?”

“I am ABSOLUTELY FINE,” Lavellan snapped, bouncing straight to her feet, then falling right back down again. She had sprained her damned ankle.

“Absolutely, of course you are,” Blackwall said blandly. “Solas?”

Gods damnit, he was walking over. And was that Leliana, watching at the top of the stairs? People were looking. If she ran away, she’d probably look even more the fool. She tried to summon the Grace-face that Varric had told her about, hiding her emotions behind a mask, but she had shown herself to be terrible at it.

Blessedly, Solas squatted down next to her and looked her over without speaking. She was just starting to think she’d get through this intact when he lifted her leg up, causing her to lean back against Blackwall, her back pushing into his chest. She could feel him breathe in sharply, but she was too distracted by her leg in the air, Solas’ hands gripping her gently but firmly. Was that really necessary? Solas slid his hands up her leg, most likely examining the extent of the damage, and then rolled up her pant leg, and unwrapped her injured foot with deft hands. Warm hands pressed onto bare flesh, and the warm tingle of his healing spread through her ankle. As soon as he was done, she sat up, moving so quickly that her head almost caught Blackwall on the chin. Face burning, she began to re-wrap her foot, muttering thanks under her breath. At least Blackwall looked just as flushed as she felt. Small blessings.

It was Josephine who gave her an out, thank all the gods and even the Maker, if he had any hand in it. Lavellan almost never saw her outside the Chantry.

“That was quite the fall,” the Antivan woman’s accented voice came as she walked gracefully down the steps that had, apparently, been too complicated for the all holy Herald of Andraste. “However, if you are feeling better, I have a matter that I would like to ask you about…”

Lavellan escaped with her, whispering a quiet word of gratitude as Josephine led her away.

“Oh, I have been in such positions myself, Herald. Why, just last week, my heel caught on a crack while I was greeting the Baron of…”

Lavellan let the boring story wash over her. Josephine was full of boring stories. Lavellan suspected it would be more interesting if she knew who the Baron was or why it mattered, but as it was, she was just content to have something to distract her from her own embarrassment. It was then that Josephine suggested postponing the trip to the Hinterlands.

“No, no… It needs to be done. The fighting needs to be put down, for good. With the information Leliana got us, we can end it, or at least come close. Then maybe we can finally get those damned horses.”

“Well, if you are sure,” Josephine trailed off, clearly uncertain. Then she smiled, almost a smirk. “Perhaps we should have Solas give you a once over, then, to be sure you are intact?”

“I am ABSOLUTELY FINE, THANK you, Josephine,” Lavellan said firmly, her ears heating up.

“If anything, he should look at Blackwall,” drawled Varric from where he sat at a table in the corner. “I could see the blood rushing from every part of his body all the way over here.”

---

They did go to the Hinterlands, as she had planned. Normally, she traveled with a small group, but this time she had quite the full party. Iron Bull, Cassandra, Blackwall, Solas, and Varric all accompanied her. Once they got situated, and headed out from one of the Inquisition’s camps, she explained to them the plan in greater detail.

“Leliana’s gotten us the information on where the local leaders for the mages and Templars are holed up,” she informed them. “But if one hears about an attack on the other, they might move, and I don’t know how long it would take to weed them out again. So we’re going to split up. Three of us will take on the mages, three will take on the Templars.”

She turned towards the warriors. “Cassandra, you’ll be leading the group taking on the mages. Your ability to shut down magic should be useful. Bull, you’re going with her. Get in fast and hit them hard. Here… This necklace is magical, it will help you smash through their barriers. Blackwall, you’re with me. We’ll be going after the Templars.”

Cassandra interrupted, looking concerned. “Herald, it’s not wise to send two mages to the Templar’s encampment, their abilities…”

Lavellan cut her off, looking confused. “What are you talking about? Solas is going with you.” Cassandra blinked.

“Ah… I had just assumed… Well, normally…”

Lavellan glared at her a little more than was strictly necessary. She did not want her tendency to stick close to Solas pointed out right then. “Today is hardly a normal outing. Solas will be going with you and Iron Bull. Blackwall, Varric and I will be taking out the Templars.” She cleared her throat. She didn’t feel comfortable giving Solas instructions, but it was kind of her job. “Solas, you know what to do… stay back, keep barriers up on Bull and Cassandra as best you can, and stay out of range of her magic cancelling.”

“Of course,” he said, his face the kind of perfect mask she could never manage.

“Blackwall, you’ll need to keep the Templars off Varric and I as best as you can. Get in there and get their attention. Varric, you focus on the ones WITHOUT the giant shields. I can burn them from below, avoid that hassle. Does everyone understand?”

There were a series of nods. She bit her lip. She was nervous, sending a group off without her. But Solas should be fine, going up against mages, not Templars, and with two strong warriors to keep the attention off of him. “Alright. Let’s move out.”

---

Finding the Templars wasn’t difficult. Honestly, she could track a deer with her eyes closed, and these Templar were not subtle. She was able to find the location even though her thoughts were on Cassandra, Bull, and Solas. What if the information was bad, and there were more mercenaries with the mages? What if they approached from a bad angle?

She shook her head, trying to focus on the here and now. She gazed over a rock at the hastily built wooden walls of a small encampment. “That’s it, for sure,” she said quietly. “Alright. Varric, open fire whenever you’re ready. I’ll bring a wall of fire up their back entrance, then I’ll set the walls up. Blackwall, just charge in. Keep them confused.”

They all nodded, and then Varric jumped up onto the rock and sent a bolt straight into the chest of one of the Templar archers. That was their sign. Calling deep into the well of her power, she brought a wall of fire up from the ground, two, three, four, six feet tall. No one would be getting out the back. By this time, Templars were beginning to stream out the front entrance, charging Blackwall as he charged them. Seeing archers learning over the wooden walls, Lavellan pulled on her fire again, igniting the dried wood, encouraging the fire to spread unnaturally fast. There were shouts and curses from the men on the walls.

Blackwall had the attention of several of the Templars, who hadn’t quite figured out where the fire or arrows were coming from yet. Lavellan moved further away from Varric, not wanting to bring attention to him. They could hardly mistake him for a mage, but she felt his bolts were doing more damage at this point. She needed to keep people off of him as much as Blackwall did. She saw a shielded Templar charging towards him, slipping past Blackwalls guard. A bolt scraped against and off of the tower shield as the man charged Varric, sword drawn. Then the ground underneath him was on fire, and so was he. The acrid smell of burning pork filled the air, but the man continued to advance.

Lavellan focused, dropping a lightning bolt on him from above. Anything to avoid that shield. Finally the man dropped. She breathed a sigh of relief. This was going well… The Templars were supposed to be the hard ones. If they were doing this well, surely Solas –

She heard Varric’s cry of alarm one second too late. A searing pain split her side as she dodged forward out of instinct. How had one of them gotten up on her flank? He must have been outside the damned fort! She reached for her magic to light him up, but to her dismay, she found she couldn’t. Fucking Templars! With a snarl, she pulled out a dagger, barely parrying a strike from his sword and darting to the side. If she could get back, out of the range of his gods-cursed spell purge…

She heard another shout from her right, but couldn’t allow herself to be distracted. His sword was lighting up. She couldn’t parry that. She tried to dodge to the side as it came down, but her ankle, not fully healed from earlier, wobbled uneasily, throwing her slightly off balance. The Templar’s blade caught her shoulder, and a scream tore out of her throat. Her shoulder pad had caught the blade, lucky, but alien power surged through her. She could feel the magic ripping out of her veins. Panicked, she tried to throw up a barrier, but there was nothing to grab from. The fucker had smote her! She raised her dagger to defend herself from a follow up blow, when a bolt sunk into the man’s neck. He fell with a gurgle, as Blackwall ran towards her, his last opponent felled.

Her eyes darted around. Only when she was sure she could see no Templars did she allow herself to fall to her knees.

“Herald! Herald! Lethanna!”

Her head spun. Moreover, she felt empty. This was not a loss of blood, it was a loss of mana. She did not like it.

“Shit, we need Solas. I don’t think she can heal herself.”

“I’ll get him, they might need back-up anyway.” It was Varric’s voice. “Get a potion down her throat.”

Her head was titled it up and the familiar, bitter taste of elfroot filled her mouth. She spluttered. “Swallow, damn you!” Blackwall hissed. She choked it down, somehow. The pain in her shoulder dulled, but the empty feeling was still there. She groaned, letting herself lean against him for a split second of weakness before she scrambled to her feet.

“You shouldn’t-“ He began, but she interrupted.

“That Templar was outside the encampment. There could be more. Keep your guard up. With Varric gone and me like this, you’re all we’ve got if more show up.”

Startled, Blackwall nodded, leaning her up against a rock and then standing in front of her, sword and shield drawn. They would have to go through him, in every sense of the word.

Lavellan tried to reach for her magic again. She wasn’t particularly talented at healing, but she could stop the bleeding, if she could just… The magic slipped away from her. She was all but completely drained… Shite! Templars… She was very glad that she had chosen to take this route herself now. What if it had been Solas, standing there? She couldn’t have healed him herself, she was no good at it. They would have been in real trouble then.

The world spun around her, but no more danger reared out of the forest. She and Blackwall both started when they heard heavy footfalls, but it was just their companions. It was Solas she saw first, Varric trailing behind him, then Cassandra and Iron Bull. She let out a long sigh of relief. They were okay. Bull looked a little blackened, but… Her vision blurred, and she let herself sink onto the ground again, groaning.

She felt hands on her side and moaned, trying to twist away from the unwelcome pain. Someone else grabbed her from the other side, and she felt the warm tingle of Solas’ magic. She could practically taste it, she was so out of magic herself. The pain began to ease. Her vision unblurred. When her eyes focused, Solas was directly over her. When had she been lain flat? She felt his hands graze over her stomach, healing a wound she hadn’t even noticed getting, and then up to her clavicle and shoulder, where the holy smite had struck her.

The pain was receding rapidly, and she quickly noticed how pale Solas looked. His skin seemed clammy, his pupils were like pinpricks. There was sweat on his brow. Of course, she thought to herself. A battle, then running back, now he’s pouring magic into me. She grunted and tried to push him off, not wanting him to waste more mana on her when she was no longer bleeding out. He pushed her back down, his hand hard against her chest, with perhaps a bit more force than strictly necessary.

“Hold still, da’len, hold still,” he whispered. “Your strength has been drained. Stay down.”

“Nnn-“she said, her voice catching in her throat. Bless the man, Blackwall handed her a flask of water. Lavellan drained it, and her voice returned. “I’m fine, hahren.” Why had she called him that? He called her da’len, perhaps it was automatic. “Ma serannas, ar’eth-“ He pushed a hand over her mouth, almost absentmindedly healing a split lip as he did so. His other hand continued to run over her, focusing on her side and shoulder. She flushed. Now he was just being silly. But she kept quiet as he continued going over her. Cassandra helped give her a much needed distraction.

“What happened?” Her face betrayed her worry. Perhaps all the flirting was paying off, Lavellan thought smugly.

“We missed a Templar in the woods,” Varric explained. “He came up behind her. He did some weird glowy thing with his sword, and she fell.”

A growl rolled low in Solas’ throat, too quiet for anyone but Lavellan, roughly six inches away from his face, and Bull, still holding her steady, to hear. Was he mad at the Templar, or her, for being so careless? “She’s been smote,” he said out loud. She hadn’t heard him sound like that since she’d made the mistake of being a typical proud Dalish in front of him. “We need to get her back to Skyhold. Only time in the Fade will help her recover now.” He began slipping a hand under her knees, and she shot up like a bolt.

“Hahren! I can walk!” she protested. He ignored her.

“Someone get that hart of hers,” Iron Bull instructed. Apparently today was just the day to ignore Lavellan, she thought darkly to herself.

“I’m right here,” she protested. “And I can walk.”

Finally, Solas acknowledged her. “You need to save your strength, da’len. Being drained of magic leaves you more weary than you realize.”

“Why are you calling me that,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m not so little…”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You are less than half my age, da’len. You are the youngest here, easily.”

“By a lot, actually,” added Bull, absolutely not helping in the least. “I think you might be a full decade younger than the next youngest-“

“Alright, thank you Bull, that’s very helpful,” she snipped. “I guess I’m too young to buy your pints tonight.”

She had meant it to be a joke, but Solas seemed to be stuck in serious-mode. When was he not? “No drinking. You need rest. When we get… ah, here is Cassandra, with your hart.” Before she could protest, he scooped her up. Iron Bull moved to help, but he clearly had it handled. She hoped her pallor from losing blood kept her from flushing too red. The muscles she had suddenly begun noticing on him were clearly well used. He settled her onto the Hart effortlessly. Blackwall moved up to take the reins.

“Just rest, da’len.”

She sighed. She might as well do as he said. He would clearly allow her to do nothing else