loredrinker

[loredrinker]

Fade Prison Solavellan Prompt time!

This week's prompt: Freedom

Curious, Solas thinks, their naked bodies flush, hunger flaring again. So this is what desire looks like when free from restraint. What strikes him is not only its force, but the way it claims him - how easily he surrenders to her arms and mouth. Their passion had always carried a wildfire’s promise, yet its endlessness surprises him most. He supposes these are new chains they have woven - braided in love, touch, and hunger.  If they are chains, he thinks with brief amusement, before losing himself to pleasure inside of her, then I have no wish to be free.

Anyone can add to the collection - has to be 100 words. Enjoy!

[loredrinker]

Inspired by this little post from Dreadblaidd - I've been going through codices on the halla, wolves and the beasts of Thedas recently so it was nice and timely.

After the Veil, I’m sure any creature with even a trace of the old world could sense there was something unusual - even dangerous - about Solas. But what I've been pondering on is that I don't necessarily think they would fear him. It would be fascinating to imagine what animals might reveal if we could glimpse their thoughts when he was near, especially those species that existed before the Veil, like the halla, and even the wolves. We know the wolves existed pre-Veil, given that Solas was named by Elgar’nan himself as 'Wolf'. (That in itself is fascinating - what were the wolves like at the time for Elgar’nan to give such a name to Solas? Did Solas and the wolves already share a bond that others recognized? And where did the wolves come from in the first place - were they Ghilan’nain’s work, or did they exist long before her creations? We know werewolves exist - how did they first come to be? How might Solas be connected to werewolves? He does shape shift into the Dread Wolf himself. So many questions that will require another post down the road.)

As the codices say, the halla have their own god, their own will, and will not suffer insult. They are proud, independent, and answer only to those they choose to trust. In that, they are not unlike Solas - fiercely self-governing, unwilling to bend to another’s will, yet capable of loyalty but only on their own terms. That tie to ancient times means that even now, after the Veil, they might recognise him with weary recognition rather than instinctive fear.

And there is this codex: on the second day of Ghilan’nain’s culling, when she turned to drown the giants of the sea, she spared those too well-wrought because Pride stayed her hand. If that Pride was Solas, then the great sea-beasts of that age owed their survival to him. What modern sea life in Thedas might still carry some faint instinct of that memory?

It’s before the Veil that really sparks my curiosity. If Solas could unite both elves and spirits in his rebellion against the Evanuris, it’s not far-fetched to think he might also have rallied the great creatures of the time. The Evanuris’ hunger for power and disregard for life not under their domain would have threatened far more than their own people and spirits - it would have endangered the beasts of that ancient age.

We know the Evanuris exploited and altered their own kind, binding some into service as lyrium knights. If they were willing to bind and alter elves in such a way, who’s to say they didn’t also try to bind animals to them in the same manner? The great war-beasts of their age could have been targets for domination, their strength twisted into another weapon of the court. That possibility makes the survival of other creatures even more significant. If the halla fought beside the Emerald Knights and their wolf companions later in history, it might have been part of a much older tradition, one rooted in creatures who refused the Evanuris’ chains and instead chose their allies. (Not me just wanting a big huge battle with elves, spirits and creatures battling against the Evanuris and their ilk - like the battle from The Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe).

The Veil fractured so much - the world, its magic, and Solas himself. Perhaps that's why, during DAI, the wolves are driven mad more so than other animals we're shown in the game. They aren't just reacting to the Breach, being vulnerable to demonic control - they are so closely tied to the Dread Wolf, who in that moment is more disconnected from everything than he has ever been. Interesting symbolism. And how sad to think the halla may retain a collective memory back to these ancient times when they fought alongside wolves, but the wolves in their fracture, don't.

All of this makes me wonder about Solas’ relationship to animals in general. In many ways, animals are like spirits - guided by instinct and emotion. They sense the true nature of a being in a way that mortals can't. One of my favourite things when meeting someone new who has a dog is to watch how the dog is - it tells me more about the person than the person ever could. I imagine the same would be true for creatures around Solas, and for him around them.

[loredrinker]

People I’d like to get to know better

Tagged by @elfyroot and @miraabellee - thank you dear ones for the tags, always a pleasure.

Fun fact: I have Brachydactyly Type D thumbs (also knowns as stub thumbs, club thumbs, murderer's thumb, or my personal favourite given to me as a kid - Barney Rubble thumbs). What does that mean? I have short stubby thumbs with very wide nails. It's a genetic mutation and I'm the only one on both sides of my family to have these thumbs. I also have a silver streak in my hair that I got in my early 20s randomly. The joke is that my family, friends and I are waiting for my mutant powers to manifest - one of these days.

Last song on repeat: Right now it's Dust and Light by Twelve Titans Music. I keep repeating it as I write parts of my DA fanfic out.

Currently watching: Youtube videos on vibrations, harmonics and frequencies.

Last movie: The new Jurassic Park movie - it was fun!

Currently reading: Lord of the Rings for the dozenth time - so good reading this while I play Dragon Age.

Currently playing: Flipping back and forth between DAI and DAV.

Sweet/spicy/savory: Savory.

Relationship status: In a relationship - going on 15 yrs!

Current obsession: Current? How about never have gone away obsession. Dragon Age, Solas, my OC Lavellan.

Last Google search: music theory, harmonics etc.

Currently working on: Working on my first ever long fic for Dragon Age Big Bang.

Tagging: @etherealancientmusings @topaz-carbuncle @crimsonphantasmagoria @cussundria-nerd-kneal @amoaliquis @sh00kspeared and so many more that my mind is going blank on.

[loredrinker]

Fade Prison's 100 words weekly prompt

Writing prompt from Fade Prison. Write a short drabble - 100 words. No more no less.

Want to participate? Please do and add it to our Collections on AO3!

This week's prompt: Magic

My contribution:

Dagna presented the prosthesis shyly, uncertain if Saethre would approve. Saethre’s eyes caught the swirling motion within its surface. She glanced at Dagna, brow raised.

"Veil quartz,” Dagna said with a sweet smile. “Perfect for you. Try it on.

Saethre felt a hum - whether from the lyrium or Dagna’s excitement, she couldn’t tell. Bringing it close, she sensed a magnetic pull; like a click in place, warmth flooding through her.

Dagna’s hands twisted in suppressed glee. “I calibrated the lyrium rune,” she said, “to match the frequency of what remains of the Anchor in you.”

[loredrinker]

My Inquisitor Saethre Lavellan.

[loredrinker]

I love how Solas engages with magic in a way that is so rooted in the metaphysics of Thedas - where the Fade, Veil, lyrium, the Blight, and the Titans all revolve around song and vibration - where even the Inquisitor's Anchor "thrums" with magic. I’ve been steeped in this kind of lore-building lately, so seeing these gifs now feels perfectly timed.

Solas, empowered by lyrium, moves like a composer or choreographer - his magic isn’t cast so much as conducted. You see echoes of this in the staff work throughout the other games, where mages move like a dance with their staffs. But no one moves quite like Solas. His conducting is more innate. Morrigan’s words are so true: Solas is magic. It flows through him as naturally as breath. I just love this element.

"Let us see if they have heard the legends of The Dread Wolf."

[loredrinker]

My entire playthrough

[loredrinker]

[loredrinker]

Between Fade and Flesh

Day 7 of Dragon Age Kiss Week 2025 - Celebration.

Solas sat at his desk, writing, reading, revising notes. The breakthrough they’d made recently - toward understanding how to calm a strain of the Blight - had reshaped his thinking. A discovery that had required two minds, with Lavellan’s role, in his view, indispensable.

And one mystery, long left unsolved, had been key: the Anchor.

He had spent years chasing its meaning, its residue and aftereffects. Dozens of experiments - failed and repeated - because the final element had eluded him. That element, it turned out, had always been Lavellan.

It was not the Anchor itself, now long gone from Lavellan, but the residue of it still within her that held the key to this breakthrough. Through her - through the lingering trace of that powerful mark - a tether remained. A conduit between his magic, the Veil and the Fade that had not frayed. The spirit’s words returned to him now, spoken long ago to Lavellan in the Nightmare's realm: “It is the needle that passes through the Veil, as little else can. You are the thread.” The spirit's words had proven true even now. Through that tether, another thread had emerged - something in resonance with the Blight.

His eyes drifted to her prosthesis, lying across his desk. He picked it up gently, turning it over in his hands.

Dagna’s work never ceased to astonish him. There were moments he wished he could have spent more time with her back in Skyhold - just to learn how she thought, how she moved so easily between material and magical, science and song. Her connection to lyrium, to the stone, to magic itself, should not have been possible. Yet her inventions defied his expectations again and again. Lavellan’s lyrium fused prosthesis was no exception.

It wasn’t the complexity of it that humbled him - it was its simplicity. Dagna had attuned it to Lavellan’s body by matching the residual harmonic signature of the Anchor. A lyrium rune had been embedded into the inner plate, precisely tuned to the frequency of what remained within Lavellan - amplified by the material she had chosen for the prosthesis: veil quartz.

It made sense - a material revealed only through veilfire, was the perfect medium. It conducted energy efficiently and stabilized form. The result was a kind of magnetic stability - one that allowed the prosthetic arm to bind to Lavellan not only physically, but metaphysically. As if it had always been a part of her.

But more than that - it was through that thread that one strain of Blight revealed itself.

They had discovered it by accident, partway through one of their studies Lavellan had mentioned that her prosthesis would sometimes hum faintly near a certain Blight node. At first, they assumed it was a quirk in the rune - some sensitivity in the lyrium Dagna had used, affected by being physically in the Fade.

Solas had felt it, too.

It was the effect Blight always had on him when he was near it: a faint, discordant hum at the edge of how own awareness. His lyrium-reinforced form made him sensitive to such echoes, but without clarity it was like hearing only the soft bass line of a song with no melody. He had actually given no more thought to it until, Lavellan, wanting to rule it out, left her prosthesis behind the next time they ventured out.

And still, when they reached the site again, she felt something. A thrum, similar to when she held the Anchor within her. The sensation moved through her shoulder and into her throat the closer she got to the node. Subtle, but insistent. She called it a tickle.

Instinctively, he reached out to touch her shoulder, hoping to sense what she did - and when his hand met her skin, he felt it. The vibration moving through her into him. And the pattern sharpened.

She ran back to retrieve the prosthesis. When she returned and reattached it, he touched her again and the sensation deepened. Her body, the residual thread of the Anchor still woven into the Fade, and the lyrium-tuned rune created a harmonic loop with his magic.

What they realized was the frequency Dagna had attuned to the Anchor matched the same frequency of this particular strain of Blight. How many other strains had they come across that had no pull on her? After much debate, trial and error, they were finally able to isolate one of the vibrations. And once they did, they found they could communicate with it, match its harmony and still its dissonance for a moment.

Through Solas touching her and guiding his magic through her prosthetic arm, they found they could use it like a tuning fork - it was a massive breakthrough. Repeating this process, they began to hear and feel multiple layers of harmonics within that single Blight frequency. Solas would adjust his magic, and Lavellan, when needed, would add her own, as though plucking different strings of an instrument - each of them pulling on threads, honing in on each signal with increasing precision.

With Lavellan's prosthesis as the conduit, they set to the slow work of mapping the composite structure of the strain: layered frequencies, buried harmonics, shifting signatures. They documented each one with care, writing down what they heard, what they felt.

It wasn’t long after that they were able to recognize other nodes carrying the same resonance - all tied to the same strain.

There were still harmonics yet to uncover in the one strain, still vibrations tucked out of reach - but they were closer than they had ever been. Once they completed the map, or better yet, the song - once every resonance within that frequency was known - they believed they could soothe it entirely. And in doing so, reach the Titan from which that strain had been born.

For Solas, it was exhilarating. Like composing a song - but this time, the melody passed through Lavellan. She was the instrument. And together, they were beginning to compose the language of the Blight itself.

This act, more than anything, had created a deeper intimacy between them - one he had never imagined. Her trust in him. Her willingness to open her body to his magic, and his ability to listen through her. To feel the subtle vibrations of her own essence and learn to distinguish them from the pulse of the Blight was captivating to him. This discovery of something entirely new - together.

This deepened intimacy expressed itself in their lovemaking as well. Each more fully attuned to the other - aware of their own vibrations melding together in harmony. When their combined arousal would intensify, they allowed their magic to rise with it, to heighten it - letting it fill their bodies, saturating every nerve. The resonance between them would deepen, weave together tighter, until it overwhelmed everything else. It enhanced their orgasms, extended them, carried them further than either could reach alone.

Solas was often left lying in bed without thought or words afterwards - just pleasurable waves of sensations.

He had lived a very long life in corporeal form, but this was the first time he had truly felt what it meant to be in partnership - both physically and spiritually in harmony. A feeling he had almost forgotten entirely being so far removed from his spirit origin, yet one he had always been trying to chase.

He placed the prosthetic arm down, careful, reverent, and reached again for his quill. It wasn’t lost on him that none of this could have happened without her. A woman he had cowardly once turned away from. Could he have found his way to this discovery alone? Possibly. But how long would it have taken? How much more would have been lost?

His mind turns once again to their first meeting. To the chance that she had borne the Anchor. What if it had been someone else? The thought unsettled him. He was not prone to romantic notions of fate, and yet - that person had been her. And he had fallen in love with her.

He often wondered at the synchronicity of it all.

He shook the thought from his mind and bent back over the page, eager to document their recent discovery. A new strain of the Blight had surfaced, one with an entirely different signature. They would begin its exploration once the first was fully mapped.

Her voice suddenly, soft and warm, entered the silence of his study. “Solas, you’ve been writing a while. Rest those hands and that mind of yours. Celebrate our discovery with me.”

He didn’t pause. Not yet. “Soon, vhenan. I need to capture these thoughts.”

She spoke again. “It can wait. Celebrate with me, my love - put those hands to a different use.”

He heard the intention behind the words, the shift in her tone - low, sultry, made only for him. He looked up.

She stood in the doorway of their quiet Fade-dwelling, robe sheer and open at the waist - nothing beneath it. And ah, yes - he felt it immediately. The swift, familiar pull of arousal stirring in his body as his gaze passed over her bare skin, the curve of her hips, the fullness of her breasts. Every line and contour already known to him, memorized, his eyes greedily roaming.

His notes could indeed wait.

He set the quill aside and rose, crossing the space without a word, arms circling her waist as he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was slow, heated, luxurious. When she pulled back with a teasing smile, dropped her robe to the floor, and turned to walk toward their bed, he stood still for a moment, just watching her. Letting himself enjoy the simple ache of wanting her.

She lay back upon the bed, opening herself to him, and he mapped her body in his mind: where his mouth would go first, the path he would take with his hands and lips and tongue, the moans he would steal from her before he kissed her again. He shuddered with anticipation, aching to return to their duet - to the rhythm and harmony only their bodies knew.

Yes. It was time to celebrate - and he would revel in it.

[loredrinker]

The laugh I laughed reading this. Fave crew of all time - DAI MVPs.

the final battle in trespasser was an absolute clusterfuck and you know solas was looking down on it all like “my friends…my stupid, puny, mortal friends”

[loredrinker]

I Have Not Forgotten the Kiss

That first kiss is woven into the Fade. Spirits return to it again and again, circling the memory like moths drawn to flame. It has become its own kind of resonance - dense with feeling, thick with desire. That should come as no surprise; the kiss belongs to the Dread Wolf and the Herald of Andraste, after all. To He Who Hunts Alone and the Woman Who Blazes Like Fire and Mends the Air. The Fade remembers them. The spirits know them well.

Whenever he allows an indulgence of this memory, even briefly, he is drawn first to the vision of her lips - their shape, the fullness of them. How often had his eyes lingered there, wondering what it might feel like to place his mouth against hers, to let that contact stretch just long enough to catch her breath mingling with his. He remembers that first time - their shared Dream. He hadn’t expected her to find him. Her presence startled him, then delighted him. His curiosity deepening into something more, something dangerous. Even then, desire had made its home in him: painful, persistent, exquisite.

He should have restrained himself. Should never have allowed his emotions to bleed so freely into the Fade. But emotion leaks into it with or without permission, and she felt it - just as he felt hers. The pull between them formed before either of them moved. He sat with it. Let her emotions lay themselves over his own in a tight embrace. He had looked away suddenly, uncertain.

And then - her hand against his cheek. Her mouth on his. That first contact broke something loose in him. She pulled back quickly, eyes wide. Startled by her own forwardness, which he found intoxicating.

He should have ended it there. Forced them both awake.

Instead, he reached for her. Drew her back to him. Even in the Fade, he could smell her skin, feel the warmth of her body pressed against his. Their mouths found each other again - urgent now, no longer tentative. Tongues meeting. His hands seeking familiar curves he had only studied from a distance. Her hips - how often had he watched her walk away, half-tempted to follow, lulled by the sway of them? Now they were beneath his hands, real and solid as can be in the dream, the softness of her body against his undoing him.

He pulled back, panicked by his own lack of control. But another glance - those lips, still parted, her eyes drawing him in - and his restraint faltered. He shook his head, as if it might dispel the madness. But he leaned in again, helpless against the pull of her mouth. She didn’t flinch from his intensity - she returned it, and that captivated him more than anything else. She kissed him like she had chosen him long ago. And in the answering of her kiss, he felt the full force of his own hunger for her - something long buried, now rising to devour them both.

He immersed himself in the pleasure of her. Savoured her. Wondered what she might taste like in the waking world.

That thought jolted him.

He surfaced from the moment and pulled away, his voice low, laced with regret.

“We shouldn’t. It isn’t right. Not even here.”

That was why he stopped. The desire still burned, but the Fade had begun to stir. Spirits gathered at the edges, drawn to the heat rising between them. The Fade was responding - shaping itself around the kiss, turning emotion into architecture, memory into permanence. A tether, already begun.

He awakens.

Cursing himself. Again. For returning to a memory he has vowed, over and over, to leave untouched. But each time he yields, the Fade builds more. The moment sharpens. The memory thickens into form - structure layered upon structure, now inhabited by spirits.

He tells himself, each time, that he will resist. That he will give the Fade no more of her and that he will not lay another stone in that memory.

But then her name dances through him. The curve of those lips. The kiss he never stopped tasting.

His own words come back to haunt him.

I have not forgotten the kiss.

And he hasn’t.

Nor has the Fade.

And it shows no sign of letting him go.

My contribution to Dragon Age Kiss Week 2025 - Day 6 - Reunion. Solas can't help but keep reuniting with this memory and all its permanence in the Fade.

[loredrinker]

Your OC's Literary Lineage

Creating my own tag game as I write my fanfic and revisit beloved novels.

So here's the game (I know there's been variations but I want to do it this way:)

The Game: Which fictional literary characters helped influence your favourite OC? Choose up to 3-4 books (or comics, but has to be from something you've read).

List the book and the character who inspire your OC

Give a description of that character and explain what they gave your OC

Share the covers and link to the books, share a picture of your OC if you wish

My OC - Saethre Lavellan - Dragon Age

The Dragon and the Unicorn by A.A. Attanasio — Ygrane Once a bloodthirsty goddess who demanded sacrifice across countless lives, Ygrane is reborn as a Celtic queen who chooses love instead of conquest. She sends Merlinus - a demon bound in human form - on a metaphysical quest to unite her with her fated love, Uther Pendragon. Their story unfolds amid ancient elves, pagan rites, vanishing magic, and quantum forces, where the earth is a sleeping dragon and the unicorn the most sought-after creature of all.

Character Influence: Ygrane’s longing for love after lifetimes of violence immediately stuck with me. Her intelligence, political acuity, and power tempered by wisdom and empathy helped shape Saethre. Ygrane's strength comes from restraint, insight, foresight, intuition and choosing peace when she could choose fury but also is not afraid to face darkness. If there is any character I fashioned Saethre after the most, it is this version of Ygrane.

Dreaming the Eagle by Manda Scott — Boudica Before she becomes the legendary warrior queen, she is Breaca, daughter of a warrior, trained as a Dreamer but forced to walk the path of Warrior. She walks both the physical and the spiritual worlds. As Rome threatens to consume Britain, Boudica rises to lead her people through ritual, brutality, and heartbreak. Shaped by grief but never broken, she becomes a woman who won't let sorrow tame her or an empire define her.

Character Influence: Boudica showed me the cost of leadership - the way pain and unbearable loss can forge or destroy you. She’s flawed, blinded by righteous fury at times, but her humility and grief reshape her and she evolves over the years, taking her role as leader and safety of her people seriously. I gave Saethre that same resilience, that unyielding belief in the bonds she builds, and the refusal to surrender to despair, even if it kills you.

The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien — Lúthien Lúthien is an immortal elven woman who falls in love with a mortal man, Beren. When her father disapproves of their relationship, he demands Beren retrieve a Silmaril from Morgoth’s crown as a bride-price, thinking it impossible. Beren tries to protect her by leaving her behind and going it alone but Lúthien refuses to be cast aside. She joins him on his quest, braving Morgoth and ultimately moving Mandos himself with her song. She chooses mortality for love - her choice, no one else's.

Character Influence: When it was revealed Solas was the Dread Wolf (after romancing him as Lavellan) I immediately thought of Lúthien. That same balance of grace and determination I found existed in Lavellan. For Saethre, I gave her Lúthien’s unshakable will: the courage to walk through darkness for love because she chooses it, and recognizes that love in itself is power. I fashioned that independence and agency after Lúthien - taking on the role of leadership and power when needed, but in the end, choosing love for her own heart.

Tagging a bunch here if you want to play: @miraabellee @elfyroot @crimsonphantasmagoria @topaz-carbuncle @sh00kspeared @cussundria-nerd-kneal @kcwriter-blog @supernova2395 @coromoor @virshiral @fadeboundheart @amoaliquis @nadas-dirthalen @lotsofthinkythoughts @tiri5459 @ephemeralinstance @elf-trash @mabelaart @lovestruckthedasbard

Or anyone play!

[loredrinker]

Back from my off grid trip and how wonderful the first thing I see is Solavellan art from my fave artist.

˚⋆ 𐔌 ᴀᴘᴘʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴇʏᴇ 𐦯 ⋆˚ (apple trend? why not haha)

[loredrinker]

This is the week I go off grid and get back to nature, so there won't be any posts from me this week. Taking a break from it all! (Heading to the Fade.)

I can actually write the old fashioned way, in a notebook with a pen. It's the perfect time to reflect and reconnect.

[loredrinker]

Ame’len Fen'Vhenan - "She who carries the heart of the wolf"

- As spoken by Keeper Shiven before the gathered clans at the Arlathvhen.

It is asked why we refer to her as Ame’len Fen'Vhenan. Why we invoke her in our darkest moments. Why, when we light our fires, we offer the first flame to her before any other. I will tell you.

It is said that before the Dread Wolf brought havoc upon the world, his heart was wise and kind - but betrayal turned it cold. In the long ages before the Veil was torn, he waged war without cease. He tore down thrones, cast down those once called kin, sowing destruction wherever he went. So great was his power that it sundered Thedas itself, and forced him to slumber, the world reshaped in his absence.

When he woke, all he saw was ruin. The world he had known was gone and in that moment, his grief became a fury so vast, the wolves of the world were said to howl with his voice.

To calm his rage, one was sent to face him - one who blazed with fire, her body bearing the power of gods. The Avvar named her First-Thaw, the shemlen called her The Herald, believing the flames that leapt from her hand were sent by Andraste herself. No matter the name, all agreed: her fire reached the Dread Wolf’s heart and in its thawing, they fell in love.

For a time, he knew peace in her arms. The wisdom and kindness he had forgotten returned to him. And the world, for a breath, could rest.

But sadly, peace could not hold in the heart of this grieving god for it was too weakened by an eternity of pain. Unable to let go of the world he had lost, he chose to restore it - knowing it would destroy the world she lived in and the heart she had awakened in him. To protect her and his heart, the Dread Wolf tore it from his body and gave it to her so that his wisdom and goodness might survive within her, shielding her from devestation. Though she begged him to stay, he vanished before she could turn him from his path.

He journeyed where no one could follow, and wherever he went, ruin unfolded. Without his heart, his pain spilled into the waking world. Rivers poisoned, demons rose and dreams turned to nightmares.

In fear, the people of Thedas turned once more to Andraste’s Bright Flame, begging her to destroy the Dread Wolf. But the Herald - who loved him still, and who held his heart within her - felt his pain and saw the wisdom still flickering within. She alone understood that a wolf only bites when it has been made to bleed. And so she set out on the most perilous of journeys to find him.

She crossed battlefields steeped in blood. She faced demons that clawed at her spirit and darkness that tried to break her. But through it all, she guarded his heart. And true to his word, his own heart guarded her as well. In carrying both their hearts, a bond was forged so deep that the spirits came to know her by it. They called her the Dread Wolf’s Heart. And when her strength failed, when the path grew darkest, the spirits came to her aid and carried her forward. Finally she found him at the top of the highest mountain, his hands poised to tear the world apart. Here in this moment, she offered his heart back to him.

It is said that when his eyes fell upon her face, his heart leapt from her body and returned to his. And when it beat once more within his chest, the Dread Wolf fell to his knees, overcome by grief so vast it should have destroyed him.

But it was not the same heart he had given her.

In her keeping, it had not only endured - it had grown stronger. By carrying both their hearts within her, she had entwined them, and each drew strength from the other.

And so the Dread Wolf found the strength to stand and face his crimes. He bound his life to the Veil and stepped into the Fade, to bear his punishment.

But he had not foreseen what it meant to love - and to be loved in return. When Andraste’s Flame came to stand beside him, willing to bear his punishment with him, he tried once more to shield her. She reminded him that their hearts were one and she could bear it - because they would bear it together.

It is said the kiss that followed was filled with such love that it healed the Veil behind them as they left this world behind.

That is why we name her Ame’len Fen'Vhenan - She Who Carries the Heart of the Wolf. That is why we call upon her in our times of need. When our strength falters and our pain is too much. Because she bore the Dread Wolf’s heart and her own through the deepest trials and brought them forth whole, and stronger than before.

So that we know our own hearts may endure as well.

Found, hundreds of years after the events of the defeat of the last elvhen gods, in an old forest ruin. An old legend, written and recorded by a faithful follower of Ame’len Fen'Vhenan - also known as First-Thaw, Herald of Andraste, the Woman Who Blazes Like Fire, Inquisitor, The Dread Wolf's Heart.

*Thank you K and V for the inspiration and love of Solas and Lavellan.

[loredrinker]

"Vhenan, I've missed you terribly."

[loredrinker]

˖ ࣪⟡ shades of blue ⟡˖ ࣪