Solavellan: A Tale of Alcohol and Wolves

scarletr0settv: Prompt: Drunk Lavellan gets super smashed and starts cuddling with the fen'harel statues

Straight up fluff. I wrote this as my way of apologizing for breaking everyone’s hearts last night with Revenge of the Gods. Enjoy.

Spoiler alert: don’t read if you haven’t beaten the game.


 Lavellan brought the bottle of aged whiskey they’d found to her lips, shuddering at the burn inflicted by the liquid as it slid down her throat. She was barely balanced on her own two feet at this point, but her grace and athleticism helped her to feign control. 

  “Give me another sip.” Iron Bull demanded. She happily obliged, passing the whiskey to him as they walked through the forest. They were patrolling the perimeter around the camp at first watch, and boredom had lead to drinking through their stores. This was not the first bottle of hard liquor they had opened, and as Lavellan struggled to keep up with Bull, she grew increasingly inebriated. 

“This place suuuuuuure is pretty for a bunch of old ruins.” Bull hummed, a tone of amusement in his voice.  

 “That’s for damn sure.” She giggled, nearly tripping over a tree root as she wandered on towards a statue of a wolf. “Hello, wolf.” Her eyes gleamed, a grin taking over her face as she stood on her toes to scratch the ear of the giant Fen’harel statue. 

 “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. What’s with all these damn wolf statues?” 

 “Hmmmm…..” She cooed, wrapping her arms around the wolf’s neck and pulling herself closer to the statue resting against it. “He’s an elven god. Fen’harel, the Dread Wolf. Woof.” Her voice was taking on a husky tone to it as she leaned against the statue, barely holding herself up and eying Bull. “Pass me some more.” 

 “Alright Boss,” he handed her the bottle, watching as she took few more hefty gulps, apparently able to ignore the burn in her throat at this point. “Dread Wolf, you say? Sounds like my kind of god. Good taste in nick names, at least.” Bull chuckled. Lavellan slid off the statue and continued walking, this time failing completely to hide her stumbling. 

 “He’s my faaaaavorite.” She purred, stretching out her arms as she walked and nearly losing her balance again. They passed another statue and she ran her hands along the next wolf’s back. “Goob old wolf,” she had muttered, smiling to herself.

 “Bull, Lavellan, where are you guys?” Varric’s voice called, still unseen, from towards the camp. “It’s almost time to change shifts.”

 “Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Bull called, tipping his horn to Lavellan and starting on his way back. “You coming, Boss?”

 “Mmm, no.” Lavellan had climbed up into the wolf statue resting her head against it. “I’ve some catchinb up to do with my frenb.” 

 “Just start screaming if anything tries to kill you.” And with that and a roll of his eyes, he was gone. 

 She remained, leaning against the wolf’s side, arching her back against the cool stone and sighing as she took another swig. Moments passed, another swig, and she heard someone clear their throat to announce their presence. A glance showed it to be Solas, who looked genuinely confused for the first time since she’d met him.

 “Solas,” She sang his voice, exaggerating the first half of his name. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Come sit, join us.”

 He thought he was going to choke on his own saliva as he stifled a surprised laugh. Just how much had Bull let her have to drink? “You’ve picked a very interesting place to sit down, Lethallin.” 

 “You don’t like wolfy over here?” She pouted, reaching up and scratching the big wolf’s ears. 

 He answered with a half truth. “I merely meant that the Dalish do not seem fond of the Dread Wolf. In any case, Bull thought you might require assistance heading back to camp.” A smile plastered across his face; he was not able to hide the sheer amusement he felt at watching this. He wondered idly if she would even remember this in the morning.

 “I don’t want to go back,” she whined and followed it with a scoff, her eyebrows creasing together in frustration as she took another swig. “I’m hanging out with Fen’harel, now come sit.” She enthusiastically patted the spot next to her, and Solas sighed as he climbed up, leaning against his own statue with his shoulders touching hers.

 “I’ll take that, now. “ He said, pulling the bottle gentle from her fingers and setting it to his side. “I’m curious. What is behind this sudden fascination with these statues? Was I incorrect in my assumption about how the Dalish usually regard him?”

  “Mmm, no.” She stretched out, arching her back further against the wolf’s side before curling up and leaning into its shoulder, smiling. “But I always thoub it was sssilly,” she slurred. “Trickster or not, nooooooo one locks a bunch of gods away for fun. I think he was a bit of a rebel.“

 “That is an interesting perspective. You’re not alone in that thought, I’ve seen many different interpretations in the fa—“ He paused. “What are you doing?”

 She had climbed in between the two front paws of the wolf and was resting her head on one, her knees slung over the other as she reached up to scratch the wolf’s chin.  “They libe it when you scratch here.”

 He was speechless.

 “Good old protector,” she murmured, her face looking a little sleepy. “It’s nice to see so many statues of him around here.” Her voice was still very much slurred, though it sounded as though she were falling into a dream. “Most clans only have one or they have none. Stuperstition. Bahh.” She curled her head closer to the wolf’s chest. “He’s my faborite.”

 Solas felt warmth flutter through his heart for a moment. He’d never seen this side of her, never known her opinions on the gods. Though he would never tell her, it felt like this drunken confession from her was somehow enough, even though he felt he thoroughly didn’t deserve it.

 “Come, Lethallin. It’s not a good idea to sleep out here.” He stood next to the statue’s shoulder, leaning down and offering his hand to help her up.

 “Fiiiiine, fine, okay.” She grabbed it upon trying to get up, tripped on the paw and crashed into Solas’s chest. It was warm, and she genuinely thought about sleeping there for a moment before he steadied her and helped her off of the statue.

 The two walked back, arm in arm as she was currently at a point at which she could no longer walk effectively. He didn’t mind this closeness, feeling the beast deep in his body purring with pleasure at having her company. Halfway back to camp, though, she wrestled her way from his arm, nearly falling completely onto the ground as she tripped over a root, trying to make her way towards another statue of Fen’harel. Her arms wildly waved around in place to keep her from falling over.

 When she was balanced again she rushed up, crawling up the base of the statue before petting this Fen’harel on the nose. “I founb hib again!” She exclaimed, grinning widely at the wolf. Solas made his way over again, a smirk making its way onto his face once more. “See, he’b watching us. Protecting us.”

 “Indeed he is, lethallin.” He climbed up atop the statue, as well, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in close to him, kissing her forehead and speaking so softly she could barely hear him. “Indeed, he is…”

 The next morning, she awoke with a groan. The birds were too loud, the sky too bright. Hold on… the sky? Was she not in her tent? Her eyes peeked open, and her vision immediately filled with green. She had been sleeping sitting up, and an arm was around her. Her hair was a wreck and her face was pressed against a warm chest. He smelled of cedar, of parchment and herbs. She knew without looking up that it was Solas.

 “Sleep well?” He asked, his eyes lighting up and a small smile on his face.

 She groaned once more and rubbed her head, realizing she felt stone against her lower back and under her legs. She peered around, noticing they had both fallen asleep against a statue of Fen’harel. “What happened last night?” She mumbled.

 “I attempted to escort you back to camp, but you kept stopping at every statue of Fen’harel on the way back to pet it and talk about what a good ‘wolfy’ he was. Eventually, you fell asleep.”

 “Oh, creators.” She buried her face in her hands, her ears turning red. “Remind me never to drink with Bull again.”

 “Don’t worry,” he chuckled, his laugh light and carefree, with the slightest hint of affection mixed in. “I will.”

‘Brothers with beards’ 'sisters in abaya’ 'brothers in thoub’ 😍😍 etc.

No man, that isn’t the point, stop making it somehow 'sexual’