#DATV speculation

[an-established-butt-dent]

I'm a bald Solas lover I swear!!!!

—> Process video under the cut because of flash warning.

[knife-eared-jan]

Have you guys considered yet, how probably most of the new companions were kids or like in their really young twenties when there was the first sudden hole in the sky? Like, this is everyone's second End of the World and their first one (apart from Emmrich of course) would have happened at a really crucial point in their development.

I hope they all have the biggest "jaded gen z after going through the pandemic, entering the next recession" vibe.

Because they should.

[cadaveerie]

Rook: why do you have an ability called Abominate Lucanis: How about we stop talking for a little while.

(detailed theory of lucanis being an abomination)

[nateeseart]

I had to draw this meeting.

(initially I planned more frames, but I came down with a cold and decided to leave and finish what was already in the works)

[rin-hanarin]

"The demon made me do it" and the demon is bisexuality 🙄

Possessed Lucanis Theory, but I made a shitpost out of it too (also I know that's not how possession works in Dragon Age, I took some creative liberties for laughs, don't mind me.)

[calwyne]

From the new ‘Making of Dragon Age: the Veilguard’ behind the scenes video: 👀

“As we’ve gone through DAO, DA2, Inquisition… magic has become more and more present, and part of that is because Solas has been slowly preparing this ritual for longer than anyone in the Dragon Age universe is really aware of.”

[crimsonphantasmagoria]

Truly, I think that one of the most wasted pieces of potential in Veilguard is Elgar'nan. There are so many sparks of...something in there? He's so affectionate to Ghilan'ain. Calls her sister. Tells her to take time to grieve if she needs to. Indulges her. Ok, you say, she's a useful tool and he's keeping her sweet. Probably somewhat that. But if that's it, why does he act so distraught after she's dead? He seemed to imply that the exchange of the dagger for Ghilan'nain was a bad deal, a pyrrhic victory. When did this happen? Was it this way before the veil, or did this relationship develop in the prison, as the evanuris found themselves whittled down one by one?

Basically, this is my way of saying, what if, once, Elgar'nan was a spirit of Love, turned to Tyranny?

[yavanalis]

hey, so you guys know that one tumblr post that details how each of the veilguard companions parallel the evanuris? is it just a coincidence or intentional how taash and harding are gonna romance each other when they’re paralleled to ghilan’nain and andruil? is no one else terrified of that??

[postcardsfromheapside]

We're back again with the “we didn't say no skeletons, just not that skeleton” discourse so here's me hoping for the funniest option if the speculations prove correct.

[an-established-butt-dent]

"What have they done to you,

Old friend."

Trapped in the fade, Solas comes face to face with the remnant of his spirit.

The Dread Wolf was his wisdom, mirror to his pride. In the wake of the wrathful Evanuris, it too, has succumbed to their taint.

Or, where I'm making wild plot speculations surrounding Solas trapped in the fade. while turning my brainrot into art pieces and gifs. I'M PACING MY ENCLOSURE. Looking for crumbs and scrabs of Veilguard. Please Bioware I'm begging, feed me. 😭

[knife-eared-jan]

Am I going crazy or are the bruises on Harding in the new picture (no. 3) more healed than in previous ones?

Is it just the lighting or are there really at least 4 different face textures for her in that game? Or do the bruises work like a tattoo overlay?

The implications for modding possibilities are kind of blowing my mind tbh...

And why is no one healing her???? Are they special wounds that can't be healed with magic and potions??

The forehead looks way more red and almost still bloody in the second image compared to the third. And then later there's a visible scar left behind (image four).

!!!

[cadaveerie]

I'd like to point something out to Dragon Age fans, especially fanartists, in the nicest way possible:

Taash doesn't have a small waist. Taash doesn't have boob armor. Please guys, could you consider drawing the bodies of people you perceive as women like they actually are? Pleaseeeeee.

A lot of people doing fanart have been giving them both, and while it's not a crime or anything, can we for once let characters read as female not have those tropes? Especially when they're not like that in canon?

Obviously I do not condone harassment because of how anyone draws a fictional character, so I'd ask you don't target specific people about this... I just think that it's already rare to get these characters that don't have tiny waists and boob armor, so it'd be nice if this was more widely respected. I ask you to consider why it matters, and why it's questionable to have the one character like this be changed.

And also, not that related, but still somehow related to how Taash is perceived by fans: Taash has been referred to by 'she' and 'they' pronouns by the devs, so I'd just ask people to keep it in mind as well, and the possibility that they might not be a woman. That and the fact that both their writer and actor are non-binary and go by they/them, and that apparently Trick Weekes has expressed in the past their desire to write only trans characters (I've heard this multiple times, but I don't have the source. Let me know if you do.) I also think that the way Corinne Busche talks about their arc sounds incredibly trans-coded to me, but that's another discussion. Obviously, we don't know Taash's gender yet, they might not be enby at all, but it's still a nice thing to keep in mind since we lack the information to indicate the opposite, and there's some other to at least suggest the possibility that they might be trans, and perhaps even have a coming out arc.

I just ask that you consider these things at least. It matters to a lot of people, for good reason.

source: [1] Taash's picture, Corinne using they/them for Taash and talk about their arc.

[stankhole]

after hearing manfred “speak” in v&v and it be nothing but weird hisses and guttural noises, i’m now 100% convinced manfred is gonna somehow actually speak in game and the velvety voice of matt mercer is going to wash over us be be so jarring compared to the gremlin speak our little bone guy has been talking for the entirety of the game.

like imagine rook entering a romance and the need to get something off your chest so they go rant to manfred

rook: “i’m not sure if what i’m doing is right. is it fair to enter a relationship when the world is literally crumbling around us? is it selfish to want something for myself?”

manfred: “to be selfish is to be alive. wanting to not be lonely, to share your sorrows and triumphs with another person is part of what makes life so wonderful”

rook: “holy shit, did you just talk?”

manfred: 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴

[lyriumring]

i have something for the people to consider in terms of solas's role in relation to the evanuris Before he rebelled... because it seems to me that solas was the healer whos hands are the bloodiest, and he was scratched from the records by elgar'nan and became one of the forgotten ones in a sense

[rin-hanarin]

I keep thinking about what kind of angst Lucanis' romance is going to be if it is indeed angsty. Is it the demonic possession angle, or is it "Death is my calling" and he thinks he doesn't deserve love because he kills people for a living his whole life?

The second option is hilarious with a fellow Crow because like. Lucanis: I don't deserve you, not after everything I've done. Crow Rook, also a professional killer who's been doing the same exact thing for a long time, probably since they were very young, cleaning their weapon from blood: What the FUCK are you talking about?

[eunsuri]

Eternity

Pairing: Solas x Lavellan

Summary: In the final battle with the false gods, Solas must make an impossible choice.

Word Count: 2,443

Warnings: ANGST. Followed by some real sweetness to heal our Solavellan pain.

A/N: Hey everyone! It's been a hot minute since I've posted or even done any writing, but all the Veilguard hype and replaying the Dragon Age games has inspired my poor Solavellan heart. Hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts! Also posted on AO3!

“Solas!”

It had all happened so quickly.

The world seemed like a fractured dream—shadows and light bleeding together, the edges of reality blurring into something unrecognisable. Hues of blue, purple, and red painted the sky. The sounds of battle—screams, the clash of steel, the roar of ancient magic and blighted gods—melted into a single, indistinct hum, as if the world itself had begun to unravel.

Solas’ Dread Wolf form was quickly fading, returning to his battered Elven body. Pain throbbed in his every limb, a dull, relentless ache that clouded his thoughts and blurred his senses. 

He tried to focus, to grasp onto something solid, but the ground beneath his feet slipped like sand, shifting and unstable. It was Lavellan’s voice, raw with emotion, that anchored him, drawing him back from the brink of unconsciousness. His racing heart thudded in his ears, eyes searching for the source of Lavellan’s cry, as fear gripped his very being at the thought of her laying broken and defenceless in the chaos. 

Thunder continued to roll while lightning cracked through angry clouds over the twisted form of the ancient elven goddess, Ghilan'nain. The Mother of the Halla, and huntress of the People, was now a twisted abomination of decay and rage. Her shriek tore through the Veilguard ranks, a cry born of millennia of rage and betrayal, a keening wail that echoed with the fury of a goddess locked away for centuries. 

Then, through a fog of pain and confusion, Solas saw Ghilan'nain’s blazing red eyes seeking out the Dread Wolf, her corrupted form rising above the fray and ready to strike. Before he could even register the danger, before he could summon the strength to call out to Lavellan, a flash of blue crystals sped into his vision. 

It was Lavellan. The lyrium dagger clutched in her hand, armour shattered and boots worn out, the scent of muddied blood from her injured leg mingling with the air, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Yet, despite the pain and exhaustion etched into her every movement, her eyes burned with an unyielding fire, a fierce resolve to protect the one she loved.

Without a second thought, she leapt forward, her body moving of its own accord, driven by a love that eclipsed all fear. The impact was immediate, the force of the blow reverberating through her as she intercepted the strike meant for Solas, driving the lyrium dagger through Ghilan'nain’s heart. Pain lanced through Lavellan, white-hot and unforgiving, unlike anything she had ever felt before.

“No!” Anguish tore through Solas, his cry shattered the battlefield, raw and filled with terror at the sight of her figure flying across the battlefield.

He didn’t know how he had managed to gather the strength to stand once more, but in an instant, he was at her side. The battle faded into a ghostly echo as his world narrowed to the broken form in his arms. The ground beneath them was cold and unyielding, but it was the chill in her fading pulse that froze his racing heart. Her breath, once steady and strong, came now in ragged, shallow gasps, a desperate struggle against the darkness closing in.

“Vhenan…” Her voice came as a laboured, broken whisper. 

The scent of iron and death hung heavy in the air, the distant screams of the battle barely registering in Solas' mind as he frantically hovered his hands over her wounds, his bloodied fingers trembling with the urgency of his magic. But the damage was too great, the energy she had taken was meant to kill, to obliterate. Hot crimson blood seeped through the cracks in her armour, staining the cold stone beneath her. The warmth of it clung to Solas' skin, a stark contrast to the creeping numbness that threatened to consume him whole.

He found himself unable to muster a single word in response to her, the weight of his despair crushing him. He could feel the ancient magic flowing within his veins, yet every spell he cast faltered against the reality of her mortality. Each pulse of energy he sent into her only slipped through his grasp, her life ebbing away like water through his fingers, her fading breath a cruel reminder of his powerlessness.

For the first time in millenia, Solas felt truly, utterly powerless. The gravity of his failure thrust down on him, sharper than any blade, heavier than the mountains he had once shaped. He had experienced many failures, disrupted rituals, and power drunk magisters. Yet the pride and determination that would fuel him through these failures could not fill the gaping void that failing his love would leave inside him.

Since the Veil’s creation and his awakening from Uthenera, Solas had borne witness to countless lives slipping away, each loss a distant echo in the vast expanse of time. He had watched countless lives flicker and fade, each loss stoking the embers of his desperation to restore his People’s immortality. But this—this was different. 

He had convinced himself that the price he would pay was justified, a necessary sacrifice for the future he sought to reclaim. This world and its people, fleeting and fragile, would have to perish in order to restore his own, to undo the grievous mistake he had made. He had always known that losing this world would mean losing her, that her mortality was inescapable—especially with the Anchor’s relentless power surging through her veins, marking her as temporary. He had hoped that by severing their bond and leaving the Inquisition, he could sever his attachment to her as well. Yet, even as he watched over her each night in the Fade, anticipating the loss of his love, nothing could have truly prepared him for the agony of this moment.

The pain that seared through him now was unlike any he had ever known, sharp and relentless, cutting deeper than all the centuries of loss combined. He had thought himself prepared, had steeled his heart against the inevitability of her mortality, but as he looked at Lavellan, broken and bleeding before him, he realised with a shattering clarity that he could not—would not��live in a world without her. The thought of truly losing her was a wound that would never heal, a chasm of despair that would swallow him whole for eternity.

Memories, vivid and bittersweet, flooded Solas’ mind. He remembered the first time he had seen her, the feeling of her marked hand clutched in his as he guided her to close the gaping rift. He recalled the stolen moments of quiet between battles, where they had shared dreams of a life beyond the chaos once the battle with Corypheus would end, her laughter a balm to his soul. The nights she would seek him out in dreams, or sneak into his tent, where she would lay against his chest while he read books or told stories of his dreams in the Fade. The feeling of her bare skin beneath his fingertips, the softness of her lips against his, lingering like the delicate petals of a blooming flower. Their magic intertwining, flowing through them like a gentle current, binding them together in a harmony that felt as eternal as the stars.

Moments in which the crushing realisation dawned on him—that she could sway his mind to find another way, that the world he sought to restore could be returned without the destruction he once deemed necessary, that everything and everyone he had fought so hard alongside could be real, not just a dream of the past.

But now, those memories twisted like a knife in his heart, the sweetness of each moment laced with the bitter sting of loss. Without her, those moments would remain nothing but a memory that would haunt him for eternity.

“Please,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure to whom he was begging, his voice a plea to the empty skies. 

The thought of truly losing her now was unbearable, a pain he could scarcely endure. For him, she had endured unimaginable suffering—the searing torment of the mark that claimed her arm, the heartbreak when he severed their bond, and the endless nights spent in relentless pursuit of him, only to stand between him and the final, fatal blow. He could not let her die, not after all she had sacrificed for him.

Solas wracked his brain for solutions, continuing to frantically attempt to heal her and keep her conscious. His vision was blurred with the rivers of tears streaming down his skin, the fierce hand of desperation gripping itself around his throat. She was fading, her weakened life force flickering like a waning candle, its flame struggling to cling to the charred wick, desperately resisting the darkness closing in.

Then, in the depths of his despair, a single option took root—a desperate, impossible choice. There was one thing he could do, one last act that could save her. But it would cost him everything. His heart thudded against his chest heavily with the weight of the decision, the ancient power within him pulsing like a living thing, reminding him of all that he was about to lose. Immortality. His essence. The very fabric of his being.

But what was immortality without her? What was all of his power worth if it could not protect the one person who had come to mean more to him than anything in this world or the next?

His resolve solidified, born of a love so deep it defied all reason. He could not imagine a world without her—without her laughter, her touch, the warmth of her presence beside him. His pride and desire to mend his past errors would not stand in his way again. And so, with a heart full of love and a mind clear of doubt, he cast his pride into the depths of the abyss, where it would be lost to the shadows of his past, and embraced the decision he would have to make.

Solas placed his hand, now strong and steady, over her heart. His eyes glowed with an ethereal blue light that seemed to pierce the very fabric of reality, a stormy flash of magic emitting from his palms. 

He could feel it—the life force that had sustained him for centuries, ancient and vast, now flowing out of his being and into her. It was like tearing a piece of his soul away, a pain so profound it threatened to break him, but he did not falter. He would give her everything if it meant she would live. 

As the celestial light enveloped her, knitting her wounds and restoring her strength, Solas felt his own power wane. His once-immortal form grew weaker, the essence that had defined  him slipping away. But with it, the burden of centuries lifted, replaced by a calm acceptance. He had chosen this—chosen her—and in that choice, he found peace.

Lavellan gasped as warmth surged through her, revitalising her strength, but with it came the unsettling realisation of what he was doing. “Solas, stop,” she protested, her voice growing stronger even as his weakened. She attempted to push him away, her hand trembling against his chest, but he drew her closer, gently lowering his forehead to hers, the gesture silencing her pleas.

“I will not lose you, Vhenan,” he breathed, his voice heavy with resolve as his ancient power flowed into her, binding them both to a mortal life.

Though Solas would remain formidable, he willingly embraced the fragility of mortality, finding solace in the certainty that they would face the years together, no matter how fleeting they may seem. 

The engulfing light dimmed, leaving them in a hushed silence. With a newfound strength, Lavellan lifted herself upright, pausing to drink in the sight of the Dread Wolf, now a mortal man. His eyes, no longer glowing with ancient power, were filled with a quiet love and deep relief, the tension that had once gripped him now replaced by a serene acceptance of his mortality. She could see the peace in his expression, the contentment that came with knowing he had chosen this—chosen her—and this world. 

A wave of relief washed over her being, drawing her worries back into its current, and allowing the peace she had sought for a decade to finally grace her. Though it pained her to see him sacrifice such an intrinsic part of who he was, she felt a deep sense of gratitude knowing she had changed his heart away from the destruction of this world.

Solas reached forward, delicately brushing his fingers over her mended cheek. Her eyes glistened with life and unshed tears welled along her eyelashes, captivating him as they always had. She released a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding in, and lunged herself into his embrace. 

Her arm twined around his neck, clutching the fabric on his back as a quiet sob shuddered through her lungs. “Ma serannas, Ma’lath. Thank you. Thank you,” she whispered between breaths, tears trickling down his throat and soaking through his clothing.

He held her tightly against him, as though she might vanish if he loosened his grasp. The warmth of her presence, so long absent, was a salve to his aching soul. For a decade, he had watched her from afar, his dreams haunted by the memory of her touch. Now, finally enfolded in her embrace, he marvelled at the tangible reality of what he had yearned for so deeply. Each trembling breath she took, each tear that fell, was a testament to the long-suffered separation and the profound relief of being truly reunited.

“I’ve lived through many lifetimes, yet without you, it is all empty, lost,” Solas confessed, his voice a low murmur against her hair. “Now, I see a new path forward.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her hand gently tracing up to his face. Her voice was soft, yet firm with conviction, as though speaking the very truth of her soul. “And we will face it together,” she vowed, wiping her thumb across his cheek as her teary eyes searched his. “Var lath vir suledin.” The words trembled on her lips—ancient, yet timeless.

“Yes, Vhenan.” This time, he believed her. “Our love will endure. Always.”

Though the blighted false gods had been freed from their eternal prison, and the battle was now won, the task of rebuilding the world lay ahead. Together, they would forge a new path to save their people—one devoid of further death and destruction.

For now, they were alive, together, but irrevocably changed—two souls who had sacrificed everything for each other. 

Their love had endured, and would continue to endure for centuries to come.