Solavellan - Feet
I will admit, it did not go how I expected. At all. But it was worth it
It had been a long day. A very long day.
Nobles and dignitaries had been complaining about the state of their quarters, reports from the scouts were flooding in from all over the place with movements of friends and foes, the turnips to be prepared for supper that evening had all ended up in the fire place (Cole’s doing, she discovered, in an attempt to help a dying man find peace), there were rats in the pantry, the horses’ hooves needed to be treated but Dennet and his stable hands were unwell, the garden was still untidy and overgrown and there were bandits in the nearby hills, targeting the merchant caravans that came to Skyhold. Needless to say, all looked to the Inquisitor to deal with every problem under the sun.
So Lyris had gone with Bull and Sera to deal with the bandits, after making sure that Cole apologised to the cooks before sending one of the servants in the kitchen to a nearby settlement to buy more turnips, directed all the reports to Leliana and Cullen, had some of the children round up all the cats they could find, had Rydel tend the horses’ hooves (they weren’t so different from Halla), organised some of the refugees from Haven to tend the gardens whilst making sure any herbs valuable to the Inquisition was undamaged and promised the nobles that the builders would see to their quarters once the last tower was in a condition where it wouldn’t collapse on itself.
All in all, it had been a very long day. And left Lyris a very tired and sore Inquisitor. Her feet were left so numb, she had to check they were indeed still attached to her legs. She plodded into the rotunda, weary and in need of some attention that wasn’t in the form of a complaint.
Solas was sitting on the sofa, a large and very old book balanced on his knee, his dark grey eyes flitting back and forth as he read. He was so absorbed he didn’t even notice Lyris crossing the room and standing beside the sofa. She cocked an eyebrow, faintly annoyed, before a rather devious thought crossed her mind.
She sat down heavily. He still didn’t registered her presence. She reached down, unlaced her boots and kicked them across the floor, followed closely by her socks – he still hadn’t looked up at all. Lyris inspected the soles of her feet. She could see the imprints of where the seams of her socks had pressed into her skin, the skin a soft red colour. The ache had settled deep into her bones and to be free of their confinement was a relief.
Lyris glanced at Solas again. She was starting to wonder if he really hadn’t noticed her at all, or if he was ignoring her entirely to read his book. It was time to find out. She lifted her legs and let her feet drop into his lap, stretching out languidly across the sofa and letting the tension in her muscles leak out as the plush material took her weight. She let out an inadvertent sigh, which was followed closely by a small chuckle.
“I take it you have been busy, ma vhenan,” Solas said quietly. He was looking at her now, a faint look of amusement in his eyes. Lyris groaned at the thought.
“That’s an understatement,” she muttered. “Remind me why we keep nobles around again?”
“We need their support. They have influence that is useful for the Inquisition.”
“Okay, but why do they need to complain about everything? Can’t they see we’ve got bigger problems that have me running around enough?” She prodded his stomach lightly with her toe, as though hoping he might take the hint.
“It is the same as it has always been vhenan,” he noted, shrugging lightly, placing a hand to her ankle and running it along her calf as he set the tome to one side. “Costumes may change, but the complaints of nobility never do. They must have the best and cannot understand why anything but their comfort is of the highest priority.”
Lyris grunted, rolling her eyes, prodding his stomach with her toe again. He seemed to have figured out what she wanted, but was teasing her first, his hand settling on her knee and squeezing it gently. She prodded him again, slightly harder this time.
Solas chuckled, running a long finger down the sole of her foot. She squirmed slightly, her feet being very sensitive. It was a secret she kept, for fear of it being used against her. But nothing got by Solas and he smiled slightly. “What is wrong vhenan?”
“Nothing,” she said, perhaps a little too quickly. He noticed and his eyes gained a dangerous gleam. Before she could pull her feet away in time, the hand that had been resting on her knee seized her ankle and his free hand immediately began to tickle her foot. A loud squeal of laughter erupted from her mouth as she tried to rip herself free, but Solas had a surprisingly strong grip and continued tickling her foot. “S-SOLAS! STOP- HAHAHAHAHA! STOP IT!”
“What’s the matter vhenan? Is this not what you wanted?” He asked politely, pinning her other, kicking foot with his leg, using his weight to stop her getting away as his hands began to tickle her sides. Her squirming worsened as she tried harder to kick him away. “I would not have thought the Inquisitor to be so ticklish.”
Her face burnt so vividly red, one could fry an egg with it. She struggled harder as his fingers slid under her arms and her laughter only grew louder.
“GET. OFF. IT!” One of her feet freed itself and kicked him in the stomach. Hard. With an ‘oomph!’ Solas moved back, releasing her. For a moment, they sat at opposite ends of the sofa, breathing hard – Lyris from her involuntary laughter and shouting and Solas from her having winded him. A noticeable awkwardness settled between them as Lyris glared at him, her face as scarlet as her hair, her feet drawn beneath her in case he went for them again.
After a few moments, Solas spoke: “Ir abelas ma vhenan. It was only supposed to be harmless fun.”
“I hate being tickled,” Lyris replied bluntly. “Rydel was a monster for that when we were children. He was awful.”
“Indeed? Apologies – if I had known, I would not have done it.”
“Well now you know.”
Silence fell again for a moment before Lyris sidled up to him and wrapped her arms around one of his. Her eyes flashed with mischief that was mirrored in her smile. “You know what this means?”
Immediately alarm bells went off in Solas’ head and he dreaded to ask. “What, vhenan?”
“This is the part where I get back at you.” She was on top of him before he could even move to run, knees straddling him and she went immediately for his stomach, drawing out laughter no one would have believed the elf capable of otherwise, his face bright red and a stray tear escaping his eye as he tried vainly to remove Lyris from him. Her hands moved down to his hips, slipping under his shirt and tickling his bare skin, which seemed to only make things worse for the hahren. He wriggled and squirmed, trying to push her away.
"What’s the matter, hahren? It’s only harmless fun-! Hmph!"
Solas had reached up and crushed his lips to hers. He ran his hands through her hair, pulling her closer to him. Surprised, but not unpleased, Lyris allowed her hands to stray up his chest and resting there as she kissed back. One of his hands strayed away from her hair, running down her back and resting on her hip, holding her steady. The other trailed down her leg, long fingers stroking the inside of her thigh and eliciting a small noise of need from her.
“Might I advise that the pair of you get a room?” A voice called from the upper floor, shocking both elves into breaking apart and looking up at the speaker. Dorian was leaning over the railing, grinning dirtily at them. “I certainly don’t mind the show, though I doubt Rydel would be thrilled to find his little sister and her lover making passionate love where anyone could easily see them. But if that doesn’t bother either of you, by all means continue – it’s been dreadfully boring around here lately as it is.”
It wasn’t until he was going to bed did Dorian discovered that, somehow, a strange white powder found its way into his night clothes and left him scratching incessantly for no less than a week.