#I had to set up the place (Skyhold. one of those balconies where we find Vivienne I'm guessing and the Inquisitor is talking right below?) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mydrug-is-dragonage · 4 years ago

Text

Veda Adaar, A Letter from Home

The balcony off my room had great light in the morning. The sun shining through the clouds, the crisp mountain air, spring properly arrived and ready to melt into summer. My belly swelled, slowly but surely. No kicks or stirring, a growing bump where they said a child would be. I hid myself in long, flowing robes and oversized tunics. I spent most my days here, staring out the window, feeling the sun on my skin. I wondered if this was the feeling my parents missed, living in this cold land so far from their home. I sighed and looked out at the mountains, so calm with the wars ceased. The sky still bore the thin green scar.

The week after the healer confirmed the child, Lace came into my room with tea. “Hey, V.” I nodded and waved her in. She handed me the cup and we settled onto the sofa. The fire crackled, I pulled my robe closer around me and placed both hands on the warm cup. “I haven’t written the Divine yet,” she said.

“You haven’t written or you haven’t sent it?” I asked.

“Sent. I’ve written a draft,” she said.

“Do we have to send it now?”

“No,” she paused. Her eyes stared at the burning logs. “We will have to tell her soon, though.”

“I suppose we can get it over with. Not like it’ll get any easier,” I sighed. I took a sip of my tea. My hands stayed on the cup, the warmth passing through my palms.

“She’ll make it easier to keep this quiet, if that’s still what you want to do,” she said.

I swallowed and stared out, the sun setting, the chill of the mountains taking over. “I want to keep it quiet. I’ll tell a few friends, in time, but for now it needs to stay with only those we trust the most.”

She nodded. “Have you written your mother yet? We got another two letters from her this week.” I shook my head. “The Divine considers her trustworthy. She hasn’t betrayed any Inquisition secrets thus far.”

“I know,” I said, “I just don’t know how to tell her.” Lace tapped her feet. “Go on, you’ve got a mind full of something.”

“Veda, she loves you. She loved Bull. She’ll be thrilled.” I took another sip of my tea.

“She does love me. She did love Bull. She also loves my father and will certainly tell him,” I said. Lace started to speak, but I interrupted. “Pa never trusted him. He had his reasons, of course.”

“I think he’ll support you more than he hates Bull,” she said.

“You’ve met my father. Do you really believe that?”

“He’s a hardass, but he’s always been bolder in affection than hatred.” I nodded, took another sip of my tea.

“Lace, can you bring me a fresh candle and ink?” She nodded and went to fetch them. I settled into my desk.

Tama,

I’m sorry I haven’t written. Lace tells me she’d get you informed about the immediate developments. I’ll also admit I haven’t read your letters. I’m going to, I keep them in a safe place. I simply haven’t found the time or the gumption. For being so brave, I’m so afraid. I don’t know why. I’ve face dragons and magisters and time travel. I suppose the risk there is death. Dying never seemed as scary.

I remember the stories you told me of when you were a girl. A young apprentice baker, elbows deep in flour. You wanted to be a Tamassaran, raising the children, guiding their growth, comforting their hurts. I suppose it’s the closest thing to motherhood in Par Vollen. They didn’t let you into the priesthood, though. They didn’t let you raise the babies and cuddle them, tend to their wounds. They sent you to a small bakery near the sea. I remember the gull songs you’d sing to me as we wandered along the coastline of the Waking Sea.

Pa never told me the same stories you did. I pieced them together from stories you’d told me. Pa, part of the antaam, stopping by your bakery for bread in the morning. Pa, the good soldier, making jokes as you packed his rations You, the naughty the baker, sneaking him sweetened bread, baked with too much sugar. His hands lingering on yours too long in front of the baker. You two sitting on beach, the sea lapping the shore, your hands finding their way to each other’s again. When I got older and understood the Qun, I always wondered how you weren’t quaking with fear. To love, while not forbidden, was certainly not allowed like this.

When you fled, were you afraid? Crossing through Seheron and Tevinter, Pa joining mercenary companies to gain passage, did you regret it? Did you miss the calm of the bakery, the friends you left behind? Was he worth it? Was I worth it? Were you afraid?

I remember when you sent me off with my first company, an apprentice myself, unsure of the power in my fingertips. I remember Pa standing, arm around you. You held back your tears, but I saw your eyes well up, so afraid for your only child, your only daughter. You wanted more for me than mercenary companies, killing for my dinner. You sang from the Chant of Light, you warned me of magic, yet it came to me anyway, taking me away from you. The first letter I got from you started and ended with, “May the Maker guide you.”

He guided me through mountains and valleys, along the seas. I’d seen the Free Marches, Nevarra, Orlais, the South Western corner of the Anderfels, all while learning to protect myself from demons, manipulate the fade to bend to my very will. The best, of course, was when I’d come home, a year older, a head taller, hardly the child you’d sent away, still so far from real womanhood. You fussed over me so, made goat pies, asked about the places I’d been and the joy I’d found. When you went to bed, Pa and I sat outside, looking towards the sky, the moon so full and hungry. He took a sip of the wine you’d opened, offered me my first glass. He put his arm around me and pointed out constellations. He said something softly, the sounds still ringing in my ears, “We wanted better for you. We wanted safer for you.”

The first time you visited Skyhold, we’d stopped the demon army, but we hadn’t yet gone to Halamshiral to save the empress. You wore a simple cotton dress, you hair braided down your back. Pa put on his nice shirt, his horn caps. You looked so nervous around the nobility. They didn’t know what to make of you. The deafening whispers, everyone so curious about the new Qunari amongst the Inquisition. I heard you sing from some Canticle as you walked towards the throne, up towards my room.

I was scared then, too, my mission unfinished, the Magister still on the loose. When we got to my room you gave me the biggest hug. “My little girl has gone on to be something so much bigger!” You beamed, your own daughter the Herald of Andraste. Pa hugged me too. While I was pressed against him he whispered, “I’m happy you’re safe, for now.” Pa pulled away and glanced at my neck.

The dragon’s tooth was heavy. It rested against my skin, cool and smooth. He didn’t say anything, eyes stuck on the tooth. Your eyes were stuck on me, until Pa’s hand reached your back. Your gaze went where his rested. I can hear your voice now, the surpise and curiosity, “Veda, is that….” your voice trailed off, so Pa, forever your rock, finished for you, “A necklace of the Kadan.” He didn’t share your curiosity.

I said yes. No use in lying to you. I felt my heartbeat in my ears. Your eyes widened when you asked me, “Do you have a Kadan?” I nodded, so unsure and afraid. Not of my love. I knew I loved Bull. I hoped he loved me, but the two of you, seeing me in love with a man closer to your age than mine, a Ben Hassrath agent no less. You two joined me in Herald’s Rest, we found a small table in the corner upstairs. Pa drank a full ale before Bull came to join us. It was awkward, so painfully awkward. When Pa excused himself, I wanted to be sick when Bull said he’d take a walk with him. The men gone, us alone at the table. “He’s,” you thought so carefully about your words, “a lot of man.” I laughed and agreed. You asked if he made me happy.

He did. He made me so happy. He made me happy for years. He made me happy dancing at Halamshiral, he made me happy fighting dragons, he made happy in taverns and campsites, in castles and caves. He held my hand in carriages, he held me in cold storms. He took blows meant for me, he killed foes sent to strike me down. I saw the whole future, I saw the danger you and Pa had lived through. I knew we’d have troubles. I knew he’d be called away from me, but he was mine and he made me so happy, Tama. I couldn’t have loved him more.

I assume you know now what he did. Pa was right. Pa, despite walking with Bull, pulled me into a great big hug before he left. Again, he whispered in my ear, “He’ll never love you more than the Qun.” I shrugged him off. What did Pa know? He didn’t know Bull. He didn’t know me or our circumstances. I thought myself so grown then, barely nineteen, but the most powerful woman in the world. I loved Bull. Bull loved me. I was so sure Bull loved me.

I don’t know if love persists once we return to the Maker’s side. I don’t know if he even gets to return to the Maker. I don’t know what the Qun says happens we die. He obeyed the Qun. He did what the Qun demanded. If there is satisfaction to be had there, he’s earned it. At the cost of himself, at the cost of our love, at the cost of my dignity.

It’s been scarcely two months, his body left to rot near that dragon’s prison. I saw my love struck down before me. Cassandra delivered the killing blow, saving me the anguish of having to kill him myself. He’s dead, Tama. He’s gone. He’s gone forever and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to accept that he loved me and still did this. I don’t know how to accept that he never loved me and felt no guilt. I don’t understand. I don’t understand.

It’s been two months, I’m in Skyhold with Lace and the few others who stayed behind to serve what was the Inquisition. I’m no longer the Inquisitor, I’m no longer a fearsome fighter. I’m no longer someone’s Kadan. I’m just Veda. I’m just Veda and that’s all I’ll ever be. I’ll try to help stop Solas, but I won’t lead the charge. I can’t, not anymore. I’m going to be a glorified advisor, one-armed and tired. All that is so hard to write. Forgive the smudges. I’ve finally cried without violence and I don’t know how to accept any of this, but I do have something I have to tell you.

I’m no longer the Inquisitor, a Valo-Kas mercenary, a Knight Enchanter. But I’m still your daughter, and I’m going to be a mother.

Love,

Veda

Lace sent the raven to my mother, I sat down and finally read her letters, her usual, motherly concern filling each page. Father was doing well, a goat had twin kids. When she’d found out about Bull, the letter was longer. Words about love and loss, the way pain settles in our chest, proving our love mattered at all. Beautiful words, frustrating as they were comforting. I heard her and Thom ringing in my ears. I lounged on the sofa, my hands resting at my side, sometimes settling on the top of it. My stomach was warm and tight. Sometimes my fingers would wander towards my stomach, but I’d pull them away. The child would have to be acknowledged eventually. I would have to care for the child, provide for its needs. But I didn’t have to love it, caress its home. Not yet, not now.

Two weeks passed, visitors came and went, spring got brighter, the documents and plans seemed more convoluted. A sunny afternoon, Lace came to my room with two letters. “I thought you’d want this as soon as possible,” she said. I opened the first, smelled the pages. The light scent of lavender and smoke, the oils mother loved and the constant cooking.

Sweetling,

Asit tal-eb. It is to be. Maraas Kata. Nothing is ended.

Love,

Tama

I held the letter to my chest, weeping. So few words, yet they struck right into my heart. Asit tal-eb, what mother would say whenever we suffered and lost. One summer, before I’d come into my magic, Pa came home furious. He cursed and threw down his sword. They spoke in quick Qunlat, too fast for me to understand. Pa sat down and put his elbows on his knees, his head in his hand. Tama put her arms around his head, rested her head on his. She whispered, “Asit tal-eb,” over and over, stroking his hair. I put my doll aside, walked up beside them. Pa took an arm off Tama’s waist and pulled me into their embrace. She leaned up, dried her eyes, and squatted down to my height. “We’ve got to go, sweetling,” she said. Her voice calm despite it all.

“But I like it here! They’re not even mean at the Chantry!” I said, full of childlike fury.

“They won’t sell us the land,” Pa said. “So we can’t grow food for ourselves. We can’t raise animals of our own.” He sniffed and stared at the wall. His gaze moved down to me, little girl with little horns still budding. “We will try again. Find a new place we can stay. Asit tal-eb.”

I caught my breath and opened the next letter. Instead of my mother’s gentle writing, a harsher, sturdier hand had written it.

Imekari,

Your mother says you are having a child. This means we will be grandparents. I have never known a grandparent. Like parenthood, it is a concept we’ve stolen from the Bas. Regardless, I will inquire with the man who sells wheat what this entails. I presume we will love this child, just as we love you. The stories I’ve heard, being a grandparent is easier. That brings some joy.

I read the letter you sent your mother. I read it a few times. I lost count after seven. You’re not so wrong with your telling of me. I was in the antaam. I tried to make your mother laugh often. We did hold hands when we shouldn’t have. Due to your existence, you know we fled together, children ourselves. We chose love over duty. We abandoned the Qun.

I never told you of the walk Hissrad and I took the day we met. You were right. It was awkward. I hoped for a moment to compose myself. Perhaps find a man to hit me with a stick. Of course, Hissrad chose to join me. We walked along the battlements for some time. He was quiet, as I was quiet. We reached a corner and overlooked the endless mountains. I asked him about the necklace. Your mother and I had never told you of this. Kadans and necklaces of Kadans were a memory we left behind. It had to be his idea. He kept a blank face. I presume he was a very good Hissrad. After some contemplation, he said (translated for your sake), “I mentioned it off hand. We killed a dragon less than a week later. I thought we were just having fun, but she surprised me. She constantly surprises me.” I asked if he loved you. He said yes. I asked if he loved you as the Qunari he was or the Tal-Vashoth he pretended to be. He said (again, translated for your sake. You need to learn more Qunlat. The child should know Qunlat), “Both. I love her as the friend and companion I’d get to have in Par Vollen. I love her as a Tal-Vashoth would love whomever they chose.” When I asked about the Qun and when he’d be pulled back to Par Vollen, he gave meaningless answers. He’d spent too much time around bas, he’d forgotten how to talk to men like men.

Imekari, I was wrong. He’s dead. He died obeying orders. But, presuming this new imekari—Imekari II? Small imekari? Ari-imekari? I’ll discuss with Tama—was not of your planning, he broke the Qun. He knew how to control his seed. We all grow up knowing, waiting to be called for breeding. He made a choice. He violated the Qun.

He died Tal-Vashoth. I wish he had lived to fulfill that betrayal of the Qun. The child will come. Tama and I will come too, to discuss and guide. For now, I’ve enclosed something that gave me great comfort during our great suffering.

You’re still a Kadan. You’ve always been our Kadan.

Your Father,

Beres

Behind his letter there was another piece of paper. I opened it slowly, the creases deep and discolored. Inside was a drawing, crude, of a little house. Two Qunari stood, both smiling. The drawing was labeled, “This will be our house. This is where the goats will sleep. This is where the goats will chase the chickens. This is where Veda will play. This is where Tama will sing to Veda. This is where Pa will squeeze Veda on days the Maker didn’t bring kindness to school.” A smaller Qunari reached both hands up, a parent grabbing each hand. At the bottom, it said, “Home.”

I read and re-read the letter. When my hand drifted to my belly, I let it rest.

22 notes · View notes

ahrorha · 3 years ago

Text

Flame of Winter

Chapter 34

Solas guided Eirlana back through several eluvians until they came onto another plateau in the crossroads with several eluvians. To her surprise, there was a large gathering of elves here. It looked like this was a base of operation. A table had been set up, and a hooded figure was just giving directions to a group leader, pointing on a map. Another group just came through another eluvian, they clearly had been in battle, but it looked like no one had any significant injuries. She noticed a few healers going around, treating the wounded.

As soon as the elves noticed it was Solas who had joined them, many stopped what they were doing to salute him. They bowed slightly with their arms crossed across their chest as a form of greeting. The hooded figure at the table looked up, and to Eirlana's surprise, she recognised him. It was Abelas. He immediately went towards them but stopped when Solas raised his hand.

“The Viddasala has been dealt with. Proceed as we planned. I will return shortly.” he said.

Then he took Eirlana's hand and guided her towards an eluvian flanked by wolf statues.

Eirlana could feel everyone watching them; most looked at her in curiosity, others were frowning. They were clearly wondering who she was and why Solas, no Fen'Harel, held her by the hand. Seeing all those strangers staring at her made her uneasy, and it made her realise that things would change for her just because Solas was Fen'Harel.

At the eluvian, Solas motioned for her to step through. They emerged onto an arrival square, but this time it was back into Thedas. It was warm and sunny, and they were at the edge of a forest. In front of them was a road that led to a larger town, whose buildings were of elven architecture. This place once had been a ruin, and Eirlana could clearly see where the buildings had been repaired, while others looked completely new. Many people were moving on the road and between the buildings, and she suspected there were all elves. Several defensive positions had been built on the square itself, and warriors in full armor were guarding the eluvians. There was also a makeshift infirmary where the more seriously injured were treated. The guards here reacted the same as the other elves before and greeted him with a slight bow and their arms crossed across their chest.

Not paying attention to anyone, Solas moved on, pulling her with him. He walked towards a magical circle and stepped onto it. Activating it, they teleported away.

They appeared in a great bright open hall, decorated with tapestries and plants. Looking up, she saw several floors above them, connected by stairs and walkways. Several lifts moved up and down, bringing groups of elves to their destination. There were also guards here, as were other elves. They saluted, and some of them watched them curiously. Solas went to one of the lifts that brought them to the top of the building. Then they went up some stairs and through corridors, passing a couple of doors until he stopped at the top door.

“These are my... No, our chambers. That is if you want.”

He opened the door and let her into his room. At first, she thought they stepped into a small library. The walls were covert with bookcases, its shelves bulging with books and scrolls. There was an armchair and a big desk covered with strange objects, books and a lot of papers. On a smaller table stood a pitcher of wine, several glasses, and a glass jar filled with baked goods. The room was separated by a set of golden embroidered green curtains.

Solas held them open for her to step through. She came into his spacious living quarters. There were a pair of comfortable couches and armchairs, accompanied by a set of low wooden tables. There was also a high table with cushioned chairs. There were another two bookcases filled with books. All of the woodwork was elegantly carved. The floor was polished wood dotted with green-tinted rugs and several furs. Through the high windows, sunlight shone, and a set of windowed doors led to a balcony. Everything had a distinct elven design, from the windows to the carpets' patterns.

Solas pointed towards a door at the other end of the room. “Over there, you can freshen up. And,” he pointed towards another set of curtains, “through there is my sleeping chamber. I am sorry, but I have to leave again. I have still much to do.”

This surprised her somewhat, but she understood. This hadn't been part of his plan. She nodded. “Be careful.”

He wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss against her temple. “I will be back as soon as I can.” Then he turned around and left.

Eirlana took a deep breath. She couldn't believe that she had somehow convinced Solas to change his mind. Nor could she believe she was here now. She felt strangely nervous now she was alone in his living quarters. Would he return to her, or would he have a change of heart and order some of his men to take her away to whatever place he had prepared for her. Curious, she tentatively moved through the room. She could tell immediately that it was Solas who was living here. Not only was his desk burrowed in books and papers, but there were also several books spread through the room. There were also items of clothing casually discarded over some chairs. She also noticed a few small plates here and there that undoubtedly contained pastries and other sweets at one time.

She huffed a laugh and shook her head, realising that that part of Solas hadn't changed. It was a relief to know that she had seen parts of his true self when they were living together. Looking around, she wondered if it will be difficult for them to be with one another again. She knew it had been a struggle for him to tell her the truth. He really feared that he was going to lose her because of who he was. She only hoped that she got through to him and that he would be honest with her in the future. And share with her whatever his plans were.

His plans...

She went outside onto the balcony. She could see that she was in one of the most prominent buildings of this elven settlement. She had a great view over the town, and it was bigger than she thought. There were many buildings, old and new, with people moving in between. There were sounds of smiths being hard at work, and in the distance, she could see a field where warriors were training. It reminded her of the training fields next to Skyhold, only here they were using magic as well, judging by the flashes of fire and force unleashed. Beyond that was the forest.

Solas was really preparing the elves for what was to come. As great as it was to see elves not living in slums, it made clear to her how different the world could look once the Veil was gone. Though he had said he didn't know for sure what will happen to the humans, he was right that there had to be a reason the humans only arrived after the Veil was formed. Her thoughts went to the cook at Skyhold that turned a blind eye whenever Rosie would take some of the better food for her. She thought of the children she had helped deliver. Dorian, Varric, Cullen, Aveline; who she met in Kirkwall. Would they all suffer?

And what about the elves that didn't want to get involved. They already faced prejudice and discrimination in their daily lives. Wouldn't that only get worse, now the Inquisition knew about Solas and his plans?

A shiver ran down her spine, thinking about all the cruel things that could happen.

And what about her? Was she really okay with choosing Solas' side?... She didn't know. How could one possibly choose between the elves and the rest of the world? But it was a choice she had to make. Or was there a way for everyone to coexist? And what about the Evanuris and the corrupted titan? Could she help to put a stop to them?

Not having answers to any of those questions, Eirlana walked back inside. Her exhaustion was catching up with her. It was already in the afternoon, and she had been up since early yesterday morning. Looking down at herself, she felt filthy, and her head and bruises hurt. However complicated the situation with Solas, the Veil, and the other things were, she couldn't solve them in a day.

She went to the room Solas had pointed out and stepped into an elaborate bathroom, with a bath provided with magical runes to regulate the water and heat. On a shelf were several soaps and oils, and in a cupboard, she found clean towels. Now she just needed to find a change of clothes.

Her search led her to the sleeping area. She slipped between the other set of curtains and froze. It was a smaller room with the same high windows; in the middle stood a large bed. But that didn't halt her steps. It was the painting that adorned the wall to her right. It was clear that Solas had made it, though it had more detail than the murals he had painted at Skyhold. It depicted a giant wolf lying down. The background was covered in silhouettes of trees. The wolf was asleep or resting with its six yellow eyes half-closed. Next to its head sat an elven maiden dressed in blue robes. Her skin was white, as was her long white hair that fanned out behind her. Several elfroot plants grew around her. One of her hands was outstretched, petting the wolf. The air surrounding them was dotted with golden stars and white snowflakes.

Eirlana gasped. It was her and the Dread wolf. Tears escaped her eyes, realising what this painting meant. She was important to Solas, and he had been thinking of her in the two years they were apart. She also realised how dangerous this was. It showed Solas' vulnerability. She only hoped she could live up to the painting's meaning and be a place of peace and rest for him.

Wiping away her tears, she took in the rest of the room. On the bed were cushions of different sizes, white sheets and a finely woven woollen blanket. At the footboard stood a low bench, covered with several furs. On the ground were also furs. On a low commode next to the bed were even more books. To her left was a large closet and armor stands with several different armors. Opening the closet, she finally found fresh clothes. It was filled with robes, coats and other types of clothing. Picking a clean shirt and a pair of leggings, she returned to the bathroom to take a bath.

As she slipped into Solas clothes after the bath, she was hit by a nostalgic feeling of how she sometimes wore one of his shirts. For a moment, it felt like she was back at Skyhold or Haven, in the room they shared. A part of her wished she was back there, sharing an almost simple life with him. Wondering how her life would be from now on, she went back into the living quarters.

To Eirlana's surprise, two elven women came through the curtains, chatting with each other.

“Do you know why Lord Fen'Harel has ordered tea? He never drank it before.”

They both were carrying a tray and fell silent when they saw her. She noticed that their eyes went from her towards Solas' sleeping chamber, back to her.

“Hello.” Eirlana smiled at them.

They looked a little uncomfortable, but then one of them made a small curtsy. The other followed her gesture.

“I beg your pardon, Miss. But Lord Fen'Harel has asked us to deliver these.” one of them said; her common had a heavy accent.

“Thank you.” Eirlana looked at the trays. One was loaded with soup, fresh bread, two small pies and a bowl of grapes. The other held a tea set and a plate with a piece of cake.

“That looks lovely. You can set them on the table.”

“Yes, Miss.” They sat them down, and after collecting a few empty plates, they left the room.

Eirlana sighed. Soon everyone would know she was here, and she could already tell that not everyone would be pleased. She could only compare it to some people's attitude to Josephine when she became Ryan's lover.

It made her wonder how this new group of elves was put together. That they saw Solas as their leader was apparent. But it worried her that they were referring to him as Lord Fen'Harel. For these people, he had taken on the mantle of the Lord of Tricksters again. Did they even know his name was Solas?

She also knew Solas' thoughts about the elves living today when he first awoke. Did the other elves woken from uthenera have the same opinions? Also, with the current elves having lived all their lives in the shadows of others, it will be difficult for them to rebuild their self-esteem. She had the same struggles after Solas had freed her. Of course, she had to see it first to confirm it, but she was sure there was an underlying hierarchy at work here. And she wondered if Solas was aware of it.

But that was a worry for later. After having eaten, she took the tea and settled on one of the sofas. Deep in thought, she watched the sun set.

It was night when Solas finally returned to his quarters. Dealing with the remaining Qunari and securing the eluvians had taken more time than he anticipated. For a moment, he hesitated, knowing Eirlana would be on the other side of the door. Silently he went inside. He lightened some of the candles with a gesture of his hand, bathing the room in soft light. He halted when he saw her sitting on a sofa deep asleep, her head leaning against the sofa's backrest. Her hair was loose, and he noticed a nasty bruise on her forehead. He hadn't seen it before with her covered in the dirt of battle.

It felt unreal to have her here, and his heart skipped a beat when she moved, finding a more comfortable position. Making as little noise as possible, he went past her to take off his armor, but before he disappeared into the bathroom, he grabbed a blanket and draped it over her.

When he had washed and changed his clothes, he carefully sat down next to her. For a while, he just looked at her sleeping. His heart fluttered having her here, but it was also concerning him. Was he making another mistake by allowing her back at his side? Images of the vision the nightmare had shown him slipped through his mind. Would they become true? Would he fail again and ruin the lives of everyone? Would he fail to protect that what was closest to his heart? He shuddered, remembering holding her battered, lyrium infested body.

But as he watched her, he also remembered the fond memories. Although they had spent only a year together, a blink of an eye compared to the ages he had been alive, he had very few memories that he treasured more. In the many lifetimes he lived before he created the Veil, he had not met anyone with who he was this comfortable. Who was seeing and nourishing the essence of his true self. It was both comforting and worrisome that he would find her now after he had committed one of his greatest mistakes. Though he knew creating the Veil had been a necessary evil, it was a mistake non the less.

Looking at her, he didn't know if a future with her was possible. Could she still accept him now she knew who he was and what he had done? But despite his doubts, he also felt hope. Being near her again made him feel alive. Even now, she wanted to hear and listen to what he truly thought. She saw him as Solas, not as Fen'Harel, a mantle that burdened him and replaced all but his name.

As he watched her sleeping, he hoped she would be strong enough to remain that way. Tenderly he brushed his hand over her cheek.

Disorientated, Eirlana woke up. At first, she didn't know where she was. When she saw Solas sitting next to her, she wondered if she was still in the Fade.

“What?” she asked, drowsy.

“You should have gone to sleep in the bed.” he draped the blanket that had slipped down back around her waist.

She noticed his eyes were lingering on the shirt she wore. Feeling a little bashful, her cheeks flushed.

“Sorry, but my clothes were filthy from the combat.”

“I don't mind. Everything here is free for you to touch and use.” he smiled. “They look better on you anyway.”

He noticed that she shifted nervously. Though they had talked, a lot remained unsaid. He knew he had hurt her, and it would take time for her to feel comfortable being at his side again. Feeling guilty, he took her hand, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of it.

“Vhenan.” he began but fell quiet. It was a habit of him to call her that. Unsure, he looked at her.

She saw him hesitating. She was still angry at him and hadn't forgiven him for leaving her. But at the same time, she wanted to be with him again. Though she didn't know if their relationship could be saved and if she could remain his vhenan. But deep in her heart, she wanted to take this chance. She smiled at him encouragingly.

Solas gave her a small smile back. “Vhenan.” he began again. “I do not want you to feel pressured. I have not brought you here expecting anything from you. What you have learned these past days was a lot to take in. I won't blame you if you decide at any point that you don't want to be involved any longer. I have a place prepared for you where you can live safely. I won't blame you if you want to take another path than the one we both wish for now.”

Her heart beat a little faster. “What do you wish for now?”

His hand caressed her cheek. “At this moment, I wish that we are allowed to love each other again and find a way to stay side by side. For you to remain true to yourself and not hesitate to share your thoughts. I wish to show you how deeply I care for you.” He leaned in and gave her a kiss; it was so soft that it almost wasn't real, just a flutter of his lips against hers. “To treasure every second we are together. To be able to hold and dream with you again.”

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach hearing his words. “I like that.” she smiled at him shyly.

He moved to kiss her again, and this time she kissed him back. Her love for him was a constant hum, resonating deep within her. It made her feel warm and treasured. As the kiss continued, her love rose higher and brighter. But there was also a taste of bitterness. There was sadness and anger, her fears and uncertainty. It tangled with her love. Feeling overwhelmed, she broke away from him.

Solas' heart clenched when he saw the hurt that he had caused. Feeling guilty, he brushed her loose hair behind her ear. “I am sorry that I left you.”

Tears shot into Eirlana's eyes, though she didn't want to cry. Angry, she looked away, willing the tears away.

Solas took her in his arms. Though she was reluctant, she allowed him to pull her closer. The memories of how they held each other in the past overwhelmed her, and she no longer held back her pain and sadness. She buried her face against his shoulder and cried. Stroking her back slowly, he held her.

His warmth and scent enveloped her like a warm blanket. The comfort and safety she felt by being near him was so familiar, and she had missed it for so long. It was too much for her to bear. Clinging on to him, she finally could let go. The hurt, stress and worry she had felt during their time apart flowed out of her. Solas held her firmly. Rocking them soothingly, he leaned his face against her head, whispering a few times, “I am sorry.”

Slowly Eirlana calmed down. Not letting go of Solas, she leaned into him and rested her head against his shoulder. For a while, they just held each other, drinking in the comfort to be finally together again.

She sighed. “I missed you.”

“And I you, more than I ever could imagine. I never thought I would be able to hold you in my arms again.”

She sat more upright and looked at him. “Why not?”

“I fear that by being close to me, you will endure many hardships. You will have to make decisions no mortal should ever have to. You face many dangers just by being important to me, not to mention the moral perils you will be exposed to by standing next to me. I also thought you wouldn't want to be with me again now you know the truth.”

“Solas, no one could predict what would happen after you created the Veil. It is true that you're actions have impacted every Elvhen that was alive thousands of years ago, but that makes you not responsible for what happened afterwards. The infighting under the elves, the appearance of the humans, the wars that followed, the enslavement of the elven people, the war between Orlais and the Dales. Those are things that have happened and maybe would have happened regardless. I won't deny that you have changed things and that things are far more complicated and on a bigger scale than I ever could imagine, but I know you. You wouldn't have created the Veil if you didn't think it was necessary.”

He didn't say anything. A part of him could understand her reasoning, but that didn't lessen his guilt. He was responsible that the elves were mortal, and their magic was all but gone. It was his fault that they were weakened and couldn't defend themselves against the humans. He was at fault that the entire elven race could be enslaved. She was right that he hadn't created the Veil without reason, but that didn't mean he wasn't responsible for what happened after.

“You don't believe me.”

Solas startled and looked at her. “I...No, the state of the elves living today is a direct consequence of my actions.”

“But...” She shook her head, knowing there was nothing she could say that would convince him otherwise. “I don't blame you.”

He studied her.

“I don't blame you for my slave life. My mother chose to sell me, and my former master decided to experiment on me. The bandits that used me afterwards, these are all things that you couldn't have prevented. You may have changed the elves, but the choices of thousands and thousands of people for thousands of years led to the state of the world as it is today. You are not that important that you are to blame for all of our lives.”

Huffing a laugh, Solas embraced her tightly. There were few who knew him that would reprimand him, and he loved her all the more for it. Maybe it was for the better that she was back at his side. It didn't lessen the guilt and the responsibility he carried, but somehow his burden felt not as overwhelming as before.

“I love you.” he said and tentatively started to kiss her.

They both felt the need to reconnect, to reaffirm their love for each other. As they kissed, their bodies began to move, feeling the need to touch, caress, and embrace. Their kissing turned more firmly and intenser as their passion ignited.

Eirlana teeth pulled on Solas underlip. He groaned, and his hand pulled her closer. Fluently, she moved in unison and flung her leg around him, sitting down on his lap. Straightening her back, she leaned forward, forcing his head backwards against the sofa. At this angle, she could domineer him. Her hand slipped under his shirt, and their tongues glided against each other, lost in a fiery dance.

As their bodies moved, she felt his arousal grow under her, and it set her own aflame. Their kisses turned hotter and wetter. Solas' hands slipped under her shirt as well. He shuddered, feeling her skin again. He could feel goosebumps erupt under his fingertips, and she let out a nervous laugh. Locking eyes with him, Eirlana rolled her hips against his erection, coaxing a deep groan from him. His hands went automatically to her ass, and he pulled her core against him.

“Solasss.” she gasped close to his ear and bit playfully down on his eartip.

Hearing Eirlana gasp his name and feeling her lips around his ear made something snap within Solas. Holding her firmly, he stood up. She yelped in surprise and locked her legs and arms around him. Laughing, she held on to him as he began to walk. Not wanting to miss a moment apart, his lips found hers again, and he carried her towards the bed. Using magic, he parted the curtains and lit the candles in his bedroom. Still kissing, he sat her down, and they both began to pull at each other's clothes. They both needed this. They needed to feel, to touch, to physical express how they felt. To be finally together again.

Somehow they managed to land naked on the bed. They both shivered in delight as their bodies touched. They revelled in feeling each other's skin and warmth. Feverishly their hands moved. At last, they could feel and touch each other again. As Solas rolled onto her, a whimper escaped Eirlana's lips. Her hands glided along his muscular back and broad shoulders.

“Vhenan.” he breathed out as her leg slid along his. His lips mapped out a trail along her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive spots.

Their bodies moved in harmony. They both needed this to be real. Their love and emotions rose higher and brighter with each touch. They kissed and touched each other as if they might be separated again tomorrow. But not now. Now they were together again. Two souls rejoicing and drowning in affection.

Solas mouth and hands explored her body, mapping out new scars and old scars that had faded away with time. Latching onto her breasts, Eirlana gasped and arched her back beautifully. His tongue, lips and teeth circling and stroking her stiff nipples. Her hand grabbed onto his head, encouraging and directing his attention. He switched back and forth between her breast with his mouth while his hands teased and massaged her body. Her hands also danced over him while her body curved and squirmed against his. Each sweep of his tongue and teeth sending pulses of heat through her, evoking gasping sounds and small moans from her. Until it was too much for her to bear.

Driven by need, she pulled his head back up towards her lips. Desperate, she kissed him, and she angled her hips, so her wet core glided along his erection.

“I need you.” she panted as she rolled her hips against him.

This was not the moment for slow lovemaking; their want was too powerful.

Groaning and overwhelmed by his own desire, Solas lined himself up and entered her. He stilled briefly, overpowered by the feeling. They sought out each other's eyes that were dilated and drowning with emotion.

“I love you.” she whispered.

Solas' heart soared, and he kissed her. “And I you.” he said between kisses.

Setting an unhurried pace, they began to move, both wanting to show the other how much they meant to them. Her hands wandered over his back and squeezed ass. While he embraced her, and his lips teased and kissed everything he could reach. As his tongue grazed her ears, he could feel her shudder under him. Slowly their pace grew more intense and faster. They moved as one, giving into their passion.

Solas growled when Eirlana nails left marks on his back. He grabbed her leg and angled it so he could even sink deeper into her, evoking even sweeter moans from her lips. Their bodies were hot and sweaty, and Eirlana laughed when a drop of sweat fell from Solas' nose on hers. It encouraged them both to relax and rejoice, to physically express their love.

Solas teeth grazed Eirlana's neck, and when she pulled him closer, he bit her.

“Solas!” she called out when the pain merged with her pleasure.

Angling her hips, she rolled them around, so she was on top of him. For a moment, he slipped out of her, but she quickly grabbed him and sheeted herself back onto him. His head fell back in pleasure, eliciting a deep groan from him. It was like when they were first intimate with each other. He looked at her while she rode him, whipping her tousled hair to one side. She was more beautiful than any desire demon.

He sat up and held onto her, drowning in the sweetest feeling. Smiling, she pushed him back down, increasing her pace. She was in control, taking her pleasure from him, and he was only too happy to be the instrument of her ecstasy. Shuddering in pleasure, his hands wandered over her body, wanting to feel every inch of her skin. To burn in his mind how she looked, how she felt, to worship her as she deserved.

Eirlana's movement stuttered. Gripping her hips, Solas trusted upwards, helping her to keep their rhythm. Overwhelmed, she grabbed his chest and let the feeling wash over her. It was intoxicating, and she let herself lean forward as he kept moving his hips. It was too much, her arms gave out, and she collapsed onto him. Hungrily she devoured his lips.

“Ma lath.” she panted desperately, not knowing if she wanted him to stop or go on.

Sensing her need, he rolled them both over so he was back on top of her. The pace they set could only be described as desperate, her body writhing under his relentless devotion, coiling tighter and tighter. Each movement felt faster, rougher, deeper.

“Ma lath, my love.” he moaned, his voice deep and out of breath.

“Solas!” she screamed as she finally climaxed. Clinging onto him with all her might.

He could feel her release over his whole body; it was like a signal for his own. Uttering a primal groan, he exploded inside of her. He grabbed her hands and pinned her to the bed, driving his release even deeper into her. Their bodies twitched and trembled as their orgasm consumed them like a wildfire.

Solas half collapsed on Eirlana, their bodies entangled in a sweaty mess. They were both panting as they revelled in the aftershocks of their pleasure. Not wanting to let go of her, he rolled on his side, pulling her with him. Breathlessly he kissed her.

“I love you.” he mumbled.

With a lazy, exhausted smile, she kissed him back. “And I you.”

For a while, they both lay there silently, bathing in the afterglow. As their bodies cooled down, she snuggled herself against him. Not wanting to move a muscle, he pulled the sheets over their bodies with his magic. Holding each other, they fell asleep and slipped into the Fade.

It was early in the morning when Eirlana awoke. The first thing she saw was Solas lying next to her, still asleep, his arm lying over her hip. When she moved to free herself, he crunched his nose and tried to pull her back against his body.

“Come... sleep.” he mumbled drowsily.

She smiled; he was clearly still half in the Fade. “I will be back.” she spoke softly and kissed his cheek.

As a reaction, he buried his face deeper into the cushions. It was strange to see him so relaxed, and she would have watched him longer, but nature was calling. Grabbing the shirt she had borrowed from him, she hurried to the bathroom.

Washing up, she looked in the mirror and noticed a prominent hickey and several small ones along her neck. It made her blush, remembering her night with Solas. It was maybe not the smartest thing to do. She hadn't forgiven him yet for keeping his identity a secret and for abandoning her. But she also knew how much she wanted last night to happen.

In thought, she stepped outside onto the balcony and stared into the distance, not knowing how her life would look now. Below her, the settlement was awaking. It was strange to be here and much different from what she ever could imagine when she arrived at the Exalted Council. So much had happened. But seeing the activity below her, she knew she didn't want to be anywhere else. She was finally back at Solas side, and she hoped she could help him find a solution to the problems they faced.

Last night having him with her in the Fade was bittersweet. She had called for him in her dreams for so long that now his presence felt almost unreal. They had talked more in the Fade about what they had done and experienced in their time apart. On Solas' request, she showed him the memory of how she met Falon'Din. She had also shown him an image of her teacher, and it confirmed that he was Dirthamen, one of the Evanuris.

What was maybe even more surprising was her encounter with the spirit wolf. It had jumped and barked excitingly around them before it nuzzled its body against her. Solas had laughed and greeted the wolf as Fen'Halani and asked where it had been all this time. Apparently, the spirit wolf was an old companion. He called its brother Fen'Ghilana, and soon the two wolf spirits were yapping and yowling in delight as they were reunited.

Solas explained that the two wolves were his spirit companions in the past. They had helped and accompanied him in many battles. It was one of the reasons he was so tied with wolves and why the Evanuris thought it was funny to call him Fen'Harel. When he awoke from uthenera, he had found Fen'Ghilana, but he couldn't locate Fen'Halani. He had feared the spirit lost after he created the Veil. Eirlana told him how she got in contact with the spirit after picking up a mage staff hidden under one of his statues.

Solas shook his head and mumbled, “Old rascal. After I went in uthenera, he probably sought a place that had a familiar magical signature. I noticed you carrying one of my old staves. He woke up when you took it and activated its magic. And it appears Fen'Halani has become attached to you.”

Eirlana petted the wolf who leaned against her. “But it is your spirit companion.”

He laughed. “Not anymore. You know spirits are no one's possession. They choose their own attachments. I will teach you how to become attuned with him and how you can summon him to fight at your side. I was planning on teaching you regardlessly. By being bonded to me, your magical abilities have changed. You already have tapped into the energy I share with you on your own. But I want to teach you how to fully seek out your potential. It will also ease my worries, knowing you will be able to defend yourself without limitations.”

He brushed the place, where in the waking world, she had a dark bruise from her head injury. Though she had healed most of the damage from Bull's attack, it would take a couple of days for the bruising and discolouration to completely heal.

Lost in thought, Eirlana heard a noise coming from inside the room. Puzzled, she walked back inside and listened, but she didn't hear anything. She checked on Solas, but he was still on the bed. It looked like he had fallen back asleep. She couldn't help but smile seeing him lying under the crooked sheets. Though she wanted to join him again, she was halted when her stomach gave a protesting growl. Remembering the jar with baked goods, she went to Solas' desk to steal a couple of them.

Just when she had her hand in the jar, there was a knock, and the door opened. The elf she met when she had trapped Solas with a barrier came into the room.

“We shouldn't enter without permission.” Abelas followed him.

They stopped when they saw Eirlana. She snatched her hand back from the jar and felt like a child who got caught by a parent. In silence, they stared at each other, and Eirlana grew uncomfortable. She felt exposed with only wearing the borrowed shirt and her tousled bed hair. She could practically feel their stares on her body; she felt naked and was aware of the hickeys adorning her neck.

Shivera glared at her. “What is she doing here?” His voice was venomous; clearly, he was displeased with her presence.

Abelas looked more curious at her. “I told you it was unwise to enter without permission.”

Unsure what she should do, Eirlana looked back towards the curtains, wondering if she should wake Solas.

“Tsssss.” hissed Shivera. “A shemlen shouldn't even be here. She can't even understand the language.”

This irked her. She didn't know who the elf was, but he had no reason to be this hostile with her. Ignoring him, she looked at Abelas. “If you are looking for Solas, he is still asleep. Should I wake him?”

“How dare she call Lord Fen'Harel by his chosen name?” Shivera snarled

Abelas looked at her with a hint of wonder in his eyes. He gestured with his hand for Shivera to be quiet. He was intrigued. As long as he knew Solas, he had always had the tendency to be absorbed in his work, often neglecting himself and the need for rest. He was always preparing the next step in his plans, calculating the different outcomes. Nothing Abelas had done the past two years could convince Solas to take care of himself. And now here she was, the woman he had seen in the Temple at Solas' side. The woman over which Solas received personal reports and who was being guarded by their agents. A mortal woman who had spent the night with their leader and could make him rest after their successful campaign against the Qunari.

“Waking him won't be necessary.” Abelas answered. “Lord Fen'Harel can join us at the meeting after he has awoken.”

“I will let him know.” she decided to ignore Shivera's glare and asked Abelas. “How have you been? Has your wound healed?”

“Yes, thank you. You saved my life that day, as well as several of my men who got knocked out by you and Lord Fen'Harel.”

“Glad to hear. I am sorry about what happened to the Temple and the Well.”

“That isn't necessary. Mythal's will has prevailed.” He inclined his head, “Please let Lord Fen'Harel know we have been here.”

Eirlana sighed when the door closed behind them. Sadly she was right that not everyone would be happy with her presence. Though Abelas had been polite, the other elf didn't hide his contempt. Calling her shemlen and suggesting she was unable to speak Elvhen. If he was here with Abelas, he probably was a man of importance, and if he had that opinion about the elves of this age, many of his comrades would think the same.

Taking a muffin from the glass jar, she ate it and went back to Solas. She sat down at his side of the bed and looked at his sleeping face. He looked tired, even in his sleep. The worry about all the things they faced had left its mark on him. Tenderly she brushed his face, wondering if she would be able to help him.

Solas stirred, and without opening his eyes, he pulled her back under the sheets. She let him manoeuvrer her, until she lay on top of him. He opened one eye when he felt she was wearing a shirt. Mumbling something she couldn't understand, he quickly pulled the shirt over her head and threw the offending clothing away. She giggled and let herself be pulled against his warm naked body.

It didn't take long before they engaged in a second round of lovemaking, though this time, they took their time.

“So, where do we go from here?” Eirlana asked.

Dressed back in the borrowed shirt, she lounged on the bed and watched Solas getting ready. It was already late in the morning.

“I need to go to a meeting.” He answered while putting on a dark brown legging and foot wrappings. “You are free to do what you want.”

“I think I want to go and explore the town.”

Putting on a grey shirt and a long black jacket with golden embroidery. He checked himself in the mirror before attaching a wolf fur to his right shoulder. “Yes, please do. If you're interested, there is a clinic. I know you won't be able to sit still for long.” he smiled at her. “I will come and find you as soon as I am finished. We still have a lot to discuss.”

There was a knock at the door, and Solas told them to enter. A short while later, Rosie peeked through the curtains and rushed towards Eirlana when she saw her.

“Miss! I am so relieved you are all right.”

“Rosie!”

They gave each other a hug. Then Rosie curtsied stiffly towards Solas. “My Lord.”

He smiled at her. “It is good to see you again. I trust everything has gone well.”

“Yes, we removed everything before anyone noticed something.”

“Good. I hope you are willing to continue serving Eirlana. I can see you two have grown closer.”

“It will be my pleasure, my Lord.”

Solas stepped to Eirlana. “I have to leave. I see you later.” He kissed her and left.

“Come, Miss. I have brought your possessions and breakfast. Let's get you dressed, and in the meantime, you can tell me what happened. The Winter Palace was in a state of alarm when I left.”

It was midday when Eirlana took the elevator down and went into the town. It felt strange to walk around on her own without having a templar or someone else watching her. Here she was just an elf among many. Though some noticed her because of her white hair and skin, for once, it wasn't because she wasn't dressed like elves elsewhere. Here most elves were dressed in well-made clothes and armor.

It felt good to see so many elves looking healthy and happy. The town wasn't like any alienage she had been to. The buildings and streets were clean and well maintained. Many allies were decorated with plants and flowers; she also noticed wolf statues and wall paintings depicting elven imagery.

She came to the road leading to the square where she arrived yesterday. She noticed it was crowded. Curious, she stepped closer and discovered they were new arrivals. Whole families came with guides through the several eluvians and were welcomed. Like her, most stared in wonder at the town and everything that was going on. After their identities were checked, some were led into the city, others left again with a guide.

Eirlana realised these people were all here answering Solas' call. They were the people he ordered to be brought to safety. They were his agents and people willing to help. The elves were carrying the few possessions they had, and many had children with them. Her heart ached, knowing that at first, Solas thought them not worthy of being saved. It was chilling to know that if the Veil would disappear, everyone alive would be impacted, and she wondered if Solas was right in his opinion that it would be wiser to remove the Veil like a band-aid.

What would happen if they let the Veil disappear on his own? Solas was right; it had suffered a lot of damage over the ages, and it wouldn't hold forever. What would happen to the people when it happened? How much would the innocent suffer?

Confused, Eirlana walked back into town. She followed a family with two small children that were led by a guide to a building that looked like it contained several residences. She watched as the mother hugged her children in happiness and relief that they were finally here. She could understand their joy as she walked further through the streets. This town was like a well-maintained human settlement and nothing compared to the overcrowded alienages that were often in a state of disrepair. Even if the elves wanted to escape their living circumstances, the humans made it extremely difficult. Governors wouldn't distribute funds to maintain the alienages, and elves couldn't find homeowners who would rent or sell their properties to them. The best an elf could hope for was to find a position as a servant with live-in shared rooms.

It was a stark contrast to the conditions here. This was a town fully equipped with bakeries, small shops, stalls with fruits and vegetables. And everyone was an elf, be it the shop owners or the guards keeping an eye out. It was also noticeable that the elves here looked less weary and less guarded than in the alienages.

A wagon passed her, bringing grain to a warehouse. Next to it, a tame ram was pulling a grindstone, producing flour. Children were happily playing next to a waterway flowing through the town. It looked peaceful, but there were signs that this community was preparing for war. She passed a street where many smiths were forging tools, armoury and weaponry. In workshops, staves, bows and arrows were produced.

As she walked through the outskirts of the town, she saw masons and carpenters working on new buildings. Then she arrived at the training grounds. Eirlana watched a group of mages at work here. It was nice to see them practice without a templar in sight. And it was good to see the confidence in these young mages as they practised their craft. They didn't fear their abilities. After watching them for a while, she went back into the town to look for the clinic Solas had mentioned.

She found it quickly after asking for directions. It was a two-storey building with several benches in front of it where people could sit. A sign at the door indicated the visitation times. Inside were even more places where people could wait. There was a row with a dozen beds separated by curtains for privacy. Doors to the left and right led to other parts of the building. Everything looked clean and organised.

A male nurse greeted her as she entered. “Hello. Can I help you?”

“Yes. I am a healer, and I was wondering if you needed some extra hands.”

“Are you one of the new arrivals?”

“Yes.”

“Don't you need some time first? To settle in your new accommodations.”

“Maybe. But if I can get to work, I will sooner feel at home here.”

“As you wish. One moment please.” he walked away and vanished through one of the doors. A short while later, he returned with an elven woman. She was of age, judging by her greying hair.

“I am Alawen. Welcome.” She looked her up and down. “I hear you are looking for work.”

“Yes, I would love to help here.”

“If you have skills, we can certainly use the help. We are expecting many new patients in the coming weeks. Have you worked as a healer before? Judging by your attire, you are not one of the new arrivals from the alienages. And what is your knowledge as a healer? Are you familiar with only herbal remedies, or are you also skilled in wound care or healing magic?”

“I am familiar with all kinds of healing methods. I also can perform healing magic. I have worked as a healer within the Inquisition. I was one of their head healers.” Eirlana answered her.

“The Inquisition? Then you must have a lot of experience with combat wounds. Come let's talk in my office, and I give you a tour.”

Almost an hour later, they walked outside. Eirlana had the opportunity to chat with Alawen and some of the other healers and nurses. Everyone appeared to be happy or excited to be here. Some nurses whispered to her that she shouldn't worry about living here. That it was safe here, especially for women. Two healers were introduced as being one of the ancient elves. The rest of the clinic looked like any other. There were rooms for supplies, herbs and washing. They had beds for long-term care, short stays and even a maternity ward. They discussed working hours and the possibility of her having a more mobile employment because of her healing magic and experience in the field.

“I am looking forward to working here.” Eirlana said to Alawen.

“We will make your schedule as soon as you have settled in.”

Suddenly there was commotion further down the street. People stopped what they were doing and made way for someone. She saw Solas slowly riding towards the clinic on his hart. He was accompanied by several men also riding on harts or halla.

“Oh my. That is Lord Fen'Harel, who has brought us all together.” Alawen whispered to her excitedly. “He stood beside those who we thought were our gods. I know you just arrived, so you probably haven't heard about everything. But you're in luck to see him on your first day.”

As Solas rode nearer, Eirlana could sense the air of reverence that spread through the small crowd that was gathering. To these people, he was a godlike being who had come to guide them to a better future. She couldn't help but wonder if all these people knew what he was planning. But at the same time, it was joyous to see the elves living here without fear and oppression, and she wondered if this could become a reality for all elves, though the price they had to pay for such a future was a brutal one.

“He is coming this way.” Alawen nudged her, her eyes filled with wonder.

Solas smiled when he spotted Eirlana and dismounted. He walked towards her.

“Vhenan. I knew you would be here.” He took her hands and brushed his thumbs over the back of them.

Whispers erupted around them, and she could feel everyone watching. There was no doubt that many rumours would spread through the town today. And judging by Alawen's look, there would be many questions the next time she would be here.

“Are you finished here?” Solas asked her.

“Yes.” She nodded. “Alawen just gave me a tour. It is a beautiful clinic.”

“Thank you for your work Alawen.” He addressed the healer. “Does the clinic have everything you need?”

Alawen curtsied. “Thank you, my Lord. Yes, we are fully stocked.”

Solas nodded and turned his attention back to Eirlana. “I have a surprise for you.”

A loud bellow of a hart sounded from behind his men, and she saw a hart push itself forward, almost knocking some of the men from their mounts. She gasped when she recognised her hart and immediately walked towards it. “Hey, friend. I thought I had lost you.”

Solas smiled, seeing them reunited and joined her.

“I thought he had died during our battle with Corypheus.” She petted the hart that pushed its head against her body, almost toppling her over.

“No. My men found our harts wandering in the mountains after the battle. Sadly I couldn't return your hart to you without raising further suspicion. Come, ride with me. I want to show you something.”

He lifted her onto the hart's back, and they rode out of the town. They passed many elves that stopped to look and waved or greeted Solas as they rode by. They went into the forest until they arrived at a steep hill with a watchtower overseeing the whole valley.

Solas gestured for his men to wait, and they climbed the tower. After dismissing the guards who were on the lookout, they stared over the valley in silence.

“What do you think?” he asked after a while.

“It is hard to believe you have rebuild all of this. Eirlana said. “I expect that this was an elven ruin when you started.”

“Yes. This is a valley deep within the Tirashan forest. There are also other settlements in the Arbor Wilds, far away from the prying eyes of humans and Qunari. We have prepared a place to live for every elf who wants to join our cause.”

She sighed. “It is beautiful to see, but I fear what will happen to those who don't want to be involved. After what you have revealed to Ryan and with me going with you, every elf in Thedas will have a target painted on their back. I can't imagine the Inquisition will trust elves any longer after what happened with us and the Qunari.”

“I know.”

She looked at him. “You want to use that distrust against them. You hope more elves will join you?”

“The more people we have, the better our chances are. As I told you, after my time spent with you and the Inquisition, I want to give the elves the best chance they can get when the Veil disappears. I and my allies have prepared these lands for that purpose. Here they can live safely and be educated and trained in preparation for what is to come.”

“It is wonderful to see how the elves live here in safety and without the fear of human oppression. It is also a joy to see magic being freely used. I wish this could be possible all throughout Thedas. But I fear the costs for that to happen.”

Solas face went sombre. “Sometimes great sacrifices must be made. I know it more than most. Though I wish it wouldn't be necessary but to save the Fade and restore the Elven people, the world as it is now has to change. It will be a brutal transition, but it has to happen nonetheless. There will be no joy in what I have to do.”

“I don't think things will go smoothly. Even when you succeed in removing the Veil, many problems will remain. Things are never that easy.”

“No, they are not, and now I have to deal with even more players of the game. Like Mythal and my former comrades.”

“Not to mention the red lyrium that is spreading.”

He nodded. “And the most basic of challenges of rebuilding the elven community.”

Eirlana huffed a laugh. “I noticed.”

“It is troubling that you picked up on some of the struggles already. You haven't even been here a day.”

“The difference in attitude is familiar.” she nudged him in the waist.

“I try to better my ways.” he smirked. “But yes, it has been challenging to get them to work together on equal grounds. There has been some improvement, but a lot of work has still to be done.”

“Prejudice is hard to erase.”

“True. But there is hope. You have managed to defeat mine. Not a small feat, I can assure you. My name isn't Solas for nothing.” he sighed. “I can't tell you how good it feels to be able to talk to you again. I missed you. And I am grateful you are able to still act normally around me. You have seen how everyone regards me.”

“You are their hero. The one they have regarded as a god for ages.”

“I never claimed god-hood.”

“I know.” Now Eirlana sighed. “By tomorrow, everyone will know that I am your lover. Everyone at the clinic will have so many questions.”

“I am sorry, vhenan. But I can't change who or what I am.”

“I know, and I don't want you to. It is just....”

“What is it.”

“We will never be able to go back to having the life we had with the Inquisition. With you being just Solas and me being just Eirlana.”

Solas looked remorseful. “No. And you are more than a lover. You are my vhenan, my bonded. Though I had not planned for you to be here by my side again.”

“You can't plan everything.”

“Something I learn time and time again.” he laughed. “Vhenan, I have a favour to ask.”

“What is it?”

“I want to assign you a guard.”

Eirlana looked at him, not knowing how to respond. She was finally free of the templars, and now he wanted to have someone watch her again. “What?!”

“Not like the templars.” Solas said quickly. “His name is Himel, and he is part of my security. It would put my mind at ease, knowing you have someone who can aid you when you ever need it. You have already realised what it will mean to stay at my side. He can't protect you from all the dangers. Himel is someone I have trusted with my life during my campaign against the Evanuris. He is a little quiet, but I know you will take a liking to him.”

She let out another sigh. “So if I say no, he will still follow me around regardless.”

Solas gave her a small smile.

“All right. Let me meet him.”

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age solas #fanfic #Solas #solas romance #solas x oc #eirlana #flame of winter

1 note · View note

kindled-ashes · 4 years ago

Text

We Need To Talk

“Dorian...I need to...tell you-” the Inquisitor began between ragged gasps, fighting against the exhaustion threatening to knock him from the Dracolisk they were both precariously perched upon.

“Later, Amatus.” the Tevinter cut him off, struggling to keep the pair of them righted as the party pushed for Skyhold. “You can tell me when you've rested.”

A mildly irritated, if resigned, grunt was given in reply as he curled closer to his lover, shivering against the hollow feeling within him.

------

It had not been a kind day for the Inquisitor and his friends. The four of them; Uriel, Dorian, Cassandra, and Cole; had set out to find a missing scouting party between Skyhold and Haven, one Uriel insisted on tracking down himself despite Dorian's protests regarding the cold. They'd found the party, beset by a group of Red Templars, which had apparently been attempting to locate the Inquisition's new base for Corypheus.

The party had leaped into the fray, Uriel himself charging in to lash out with a Spirit Blade when he saw one coming toward himself and Dorian.

“INQUISITOR!” came the cry from Cassandra as Cole gave a cry of alarm, hurling a dagger toward the warrior's retreating back to no avail. It hit a gap in the armor perfectly, but he kept plowing through the snow.

Unfortunately for them, this particular Red Templar was apparently new enough that he could still access his original Templar talents. One moment Uriel had formed the Blade and was coiling his muscles to swing it, the next he was on his knees, gasping for breath as his blood felt like ice in his veins, from the effect of the Smite that he'd been hit with.

A roar of rage came from the Tevinter behind him as the enemy raised his blade, poised to cleave the Marcher's head from his shoulders. Time almost seemed to slow, or perhaps he was moving faster, as he launched first a Horror and then a Walking Bomb spell at the warrior, a Barrier thrown around the Inquisitor for good measure. It would hit him later that he'd cast Haste before the other trio of spells.

The afflicted warrior promptly ran screaming, right toward the other remaining Red Templars. Luckily, there had been a pair of mages in the scouting group who recognized the spells that had been cast and frantically threw a series of Barriers around their allies just before the Walking Bomb took effect. The warrior exploded into a shower of Red Lyrium and blood, causing a chain reaction in the non-protected enemies, bringing them to the same fate.

When the rain of gore was finished and the Barriers faded, the entire group rushed toward the mages, Dorian already at the Inquisitor's side. Cole made it to his other side almost immediately.

“What were you thinking!?” Dorian hissed, hands running frantically over him to check him for injuries.

“Cold, aching, hollow and twisted and dark. Gone. Alone. Haven't felt this since I got to the Circle. He is not hurt, but he can't use his magic, and-” Cole commented, tilting his head to the side as he 'listened'.

“That's enough, Cole.” The spirit's whispy voice was cut off by a rasp from the mage in question, his tone rough and harried, exhausted. He stayed hunched, eyes squeezed shut. “Is...everyone alright?”

“We are fine, Inquisitor. Some injuries, but all will live if we return to Skyhold quickly.” Cassandra answered. “I am surprised that he was still capable of using a Smite.”

“You're...not the only one.” Uriel managed in a weak laugh. “I'll...need to ride with someone...too weak to-”

“You'll ride with me.” Dorian cut him off. “Cole, help me get him on that bloody beast of his.”

“We can double up so that the wounded do not have to walk.” Cassandra said before setting about directing everyone else as the spirit did as he was asked. One of the Inquisitor's arms was slung over his shoulders, the other over Dorian's, as the pair helped their weakened leader onto his Dracolisk.

------

It took them the better portion of a day to return to Skyhold, the party greeted with a flurry of mixed concern and relief at their arrival. With the help of the Iron Bull the Inquisitor was carried up to his room, Dorian being left with instructions to make certain that he got as much rest as possible and assurances that they would not be disturbed the following day. Once they were alone the younger of the two stripped them both of their armor before depositing his exhausted lover onto the bed. After a brief trip around the room to close two out of the three balcony doors and feeding the fire before clambering into the bed beside him, curling up beside the already slumbering other- purely for warmth, he told himself. He was still angry at him for risking his neck.

------

Uriel didn't wake until nearly the midpoint of the following day. Prying his eyes open he found Dorian reclining beside him in the bed, propped up on the pillows as he read one of the many books he'd found on the Inquisitor's personal shelves. With a quiet groan he stretched, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Avanna. Finally awake, I see.” Dorian commented without looking up from the book. He was answered with a noise of affirmation as the other rolled to his side, curling himself around the Tevinter's waist and legs.

“How long have I been asleep?” he questioned through a yawn.

“Twelve hours roughly. It's not quite midday, yet. One of the servants brought a tray of breakfast up earlier for when you woke.” came the distracted response as a page was turned in the book. After a moment the book was clapped shut, his next words coming out clipped and irritated. “What were you thinking, Amatus!? Yes, you've been learning the Knight-Enchanter's arts, but you've not mastered them, yet! You could have been killed!”

“I couldn't let him get near you...that was the only thought in my mind.” Uriel sighed, keeping his eyes closed as he sluggishly sat up, pulling one leg up to his chest and wrapping his arms around it.

“Vishante kaffas, I can handle myself, Uriel! I am a grown man and a perfectly capable mage.” he snapped, turning to glare at the other. “You don't need to risk your neck on my account! You're not the replaceable one out of the two of us.”

“Don't say that, don't ever say that! You're not replaceable! There's only one you, Dorian!” came the instant admonition as the Inquisitor tugged his leg tighter to himself. A string of muttered Tevene was hissed through the younger's teeth before he snorted. They'd had this argument frequently.

“Eat something before you make yourself ill.” he said, shaking his head.

“...where is the tray?” he questioned quietly after a moment's silence.

“Tsk. In plain view, right there on your desk, of course. Where else would it be?” His brow furrowed after a moment when the other made no move to get up.

“Dorian, we need to talk. It's...it's rather important.” He would never admit it, but Dorian's heart clenched in his chest, a knot growing in his belly, at those words. He was going to tell him he didn't want to see him anymore. Of course he was; the Inquisitor couldn't very well be distracted and left liable to make such rash actions in battle because of them, after all- and over the 'evil Tevinter magister' of all people. His usual impassive mask slipped into place as he put the book he'd been holding down toward the foot of the bed.

“Oh? I am, as you say, all ears.” he commented, hoping his voice was steadier than he felt.

“I...haven't told you quite everything about myself. I haven't told anyone about this, actually- not even my family knows.” he began, swallowing roughly against his suddenly-dry throat. “You know I was an Enchanter at the Ostwick Circle... Roughly a year before the Conclave, I was attempting to teach an Apprentice how to cast a Lightning Bolt; the spell misfired...struck me square in the face, and knocked me clear across the room. From the time the spell struck me until I hit the wall, all I recall is darkness and searing pain in my eyes. I was unconscious for three days, they tell me. When I awoke, I couldn't see. The best healer in the tower did everything he could, but said it was possible I would never see, again.”

Dorian listened silently, his brow furrowing as the tale went on. Something even his family didn't know? Perhaps he wasn't going to tell him that they needed to end things between them, after all. When the older paused to take a breath, he spoke, voice laden with confusion. “While I do enjoy learning more about you, Amatus, what, precisely, are you trying to tell me?”

Uriel took a deep breath, attempting to quell his trembling limbs as he lifted his head, opening his eyes once he was facing the direction that his lover's voice came from, (hopefully) meeting the gaze of the younger with his own glazed, white, eyes. “... He was right. I'm blind, Dorian. I've not been able to see since that accident.”

“Well...that wasn't what I was expecting, I'll admit. How in the Maker's name can you fight if you can't see? Also, I know I may be a bit easily distracted by your other fine features, but aren't your eyes generally blue?” he questioned after a moment's silence.

“I'm getting to that.” He fell silent himself, listening to the faint sounds of the Brothers and Sisters in the courtyard below filter up through the open window. His flinched as he heard one of the most quoted portions of the Canticle of Transfigurations. He'd never liked that particular verse of the Chant, even less so since being appointed Inquisitor. Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world or beyond. “Promise me one thing, first? Promise you won't go running for Cullen or Cassandra...or tell anyone...”

“Of course, Amatus.” Now Dorian was well and truly puzzled, and more than a little concerned. Why would he feel the need to go to Cullen or Cassandra? Another moment of silence passed before Uriel spoke again, terrified of what the other's reaction would be.

“… At some point during the week after I first awoke, a Spirit I came to me as I slept; yes, I am positive it was a Spirit. It was a Spirit of Wisdom, similar to Solas' friend, that we rescued- at least attempted to rescue. We had spoken before, many times, while I slept. My friend took pity on me when it learned of what had happened and offered its assistance. It would be my eyes in return for the knowledge I would gather by being able to see. I agreed on prevision that it would return to the Fade as I slept and we might discuss the day's events and any new knowledge we might have found.” he explained, hesitantly. When Dorian's eyes grew wide and his posture stiffened, given away by a curse in Tevene, Uriel's expression turned frantic. “It's not a demon, nor is it possessing me, I promise, Dorian! It's not even here right now! The Smite...wounded it...and forced it back to the Fade! It won't be able to come back for another day or more!”

Despite the assurances, the Tevinter pushed off of the bed, pacing around the room as he ranted in his native tongue. The Inquisitor's other leg was pulled up to his chest alongside the other, both of them hugged to his chest as he curled in on himself as if to try to sink into the mattress.

“Do you even realize how dangerous that is?! I know that Spirit Healers get help with their healing from Spirits, but that's temporary! The Spirit doesn't stay with them! You saw what happened to that Spirit when it was made to fight! If you'd seen half of the things I've seen, Amatus!” he railed, gesturing vehemently- for all that the other couldn't see it at the moment. When he finally paused for a breath and turned to look at the older male, seeing the state his lover was in, Dorian deflated. He heaved a sigh and went back to the bed, sitting on it and pulling him into a hug as he lightly pulled his fingers through the long, brunet, hair that was normally pulled up into a tight knot. “Fasta Vass. I can't stay angry at you when you look like someone kicked your Mabari.”

“... I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier.” he murmured, leaning his head against the other's shoulder as sightless eyes fluttered closed. “I know it's dangerous...we agreed that I would never ask it to help- nor would it offer to help- with anything other than my eyes...”

“You ought to let Cassandra know, at least. You take her with you more often than not, and-” Dorian was cut off when Uriel gave a firm shake of his head. “Cullen, then?”

“Cass has enough to worry about, and you know how she feels. Cullen is even more out of the question after what he went through in Kinloch Hold. No. No one else. Please, Dorian...” he insisted, shifting to stretch his legs out and wrap his arms around him.

“Festis bei umo canavarum. Very well, Amatus, but I am going with you when you must leave. Someone has to keep an eye on you.” he agreed, giving a rather put-upon sigh. Uriel was about to speak again when he was interrupted from a rather loud, and undignified, growl from his stomach.

After a moment of silence the pair could not help but laugh at the absurd timing of it. Dorian pried himself from his lover's grasp long enough to retrieve the tray of food, settling it on the bed between them. They continued talking as they ate until a servant brought them lunch and, later, supper. The next morning, sooner than Uriel had anticipated, eyes blue with the hue of his Spirit friend slid open to land on the sight of the other mage, still sound asleep beside him.

#Mine #dragon age inquisition #da:i #My Inquisitor #Dorian Pavus #My Dorian #tevinterxredeemer

3 notes · View notes

theharellan · 5 years ago

Text

Dragon Age Words I’ve Written Over the Years

I say “words” because some of my favourite work I’ve written in threads. Most are Solas-centric because this is a Solas rp blog, but not all. @unofficialdragonageday

Dare to be in the Company of Those Stronger Than You, 2015-2019. Fan written banter between the canon characters of Dragon Age: Inquisition and Solas. Find more (including OC and non-DA:I characters) here in my banter tag.

Tales of Fen’Harel, 2017. There are always two sides to every legend. A series of original legends about Fen'Harel.

Five Times Defended, 2019. Solas & Mythal, platonic. Five times Solas put his life or word on the line for Mythal.

A Memory That Strains, 2019. Solas & Mythal, platonic. He had always thought of her as the best of them, but when he sees a path forward for the People, she draws back. Solas confronts Mythal in her temple on the eve of the Elvhen Rebellion.

Five Times Enlightened, 2019. Solas & Wisdom, platonic. Wisdom was one of his oldest and dearest friends, and had offered him countless lessons over its existence, and beyond.

It Tastes of Despair, 2017. This world tries to mimic the one Solas knows, the ways in which it falls short leaves him hollow.

I Cannot Come In (Unless You Dream of Me), 2017. (tumblr, ao3) nb!Lavellan x Solas. When word of Ian’s capture reaches Solas, he does everything within his power to see him brought safely home. Strongly recommended that you read @theshirallen‘s drabble, “And My Heart Cannot Be,” first as this is a response to it.

Never Far From My Mind, 2019. (tumblr: part i, part ii) nb!Lavellan x Solas. Brief moments where Solas thinks of Ian, part of a continuing series.

A Name That Fits, 2019. (tumblr, ao3) nb!Lavellan x Solas. While Dreaming in the Hissing Wastes, Solas finds himself confronted with a spirit sickened with fear. In his efforts to heal it, he is forced to confront uncomfortable feelings about his own identity, and seek comfort in another’s arms.

Five Times Loved, 2016. nb!Lavellan x Solas. Five times Solas demonstrates his love for Ian, set during one of the hardest points in Ian’s life.

Naked, Vulnerable, but Completely Content, 2018. (tumblr, ao3) nb!Lavellan x Solas. Nights of sleeplessness sometimes call for creative solutions. Solas suggests Ian Lavellan try a lavender-scented bath, but Ian would rather not enjoy it by himself.

Five Times Flirted, 2018. nb!Lavellan x Solas. Burgeoning feelings between Solas and Ian are slow to take root. This world and its customs are strange, but he feels he needs to make his affection known.

Five Times Solas Held a Baby, 2018. nb!Lavellan x Solas. Ian keeps handing babies to Solas for some reason.

First Kiss, 2017. (ao3, tumblr) nb!Lavellan x Solas. “For just a moment, I want to be brave in ways I’ve never tried before.” Ian Lavellan kisses Solas for the first time.

Apodyopis, 2019. (tumblr, ao3) nb!Lavellan x Solas. The act of mentally undressing someone. Solas finds himself hoping something more will come of tonight, but knows his desires are not the only ones which matter.

Was It Only a Kiss?, 2018. nb!Lavellan x Solas. A roleplay thread between myself and @theshirallen about Solas and Ian’s first true kiss.

Five Times Hugged, 2018. (tumblr, ao3) Solas & f!Cadash, platonic. Solas isn’t much of a hugger, but Thora is.

Expectations, 2019. (tumblr, ao3) Solas & f!Cadash, platonic. Rewrite of the balcony scene between Solas and my Inquisitor, with the conversation taking a different route.

On the Meaning of Names, 2018. Solas & f!Cadash, platonic. Thora takes it upon herself to learn elvhen, and during her lessons happens upon a familiar word.

The Year That Wasn’t, 2019. nb!Lavellan x Solas, Solas & f!Cadash, platonic. This is technically unfinished but it’s a thread between myself, myself, and @theshirallen that I love enough to share in its incomplete state. Set during the quest In Hushed Whispers, where Ian can be picked up alongside other companions.

All We Are is a Promise, 2015. (tumblr, ao3) f!Cadash x Blackwall. Thora and Blackwall spend their first night together after taking him back post-personal quest.

That Mercy you to others show, show that Mercy to Me, 2017. (tumblr, ao3) f!Cadash x Blackwall, Solas x nb!Lavellan. Solas seeks wisdom in an Inquisitor who chose to forgive Blackwall.

Let’s Be Selfish, 2019. (tumblr, ao3) f!Cadash x Harding. The Orlesian Civil War was over, but its conclusion left Thora Cadash feeling hollow and tired. Lace tries to lighten the evening, to do something to reclaim it for themselves.

Morning After Kiss, 2019. (tumblr, ao3) Merrill x Sera. It’s funny, waking up in the wrong bed but the right place. Merrill finds herself at home in Sera’s sheets after a night of fun.

Forbidden Kiss, 2019. (tumblr, ao3) f!Aeducan x Gorim. Gorim and Tamar Aeducan don’t have the luxury of being open with their affection.

You Are Not Alone, 2015. Solas has left the Inquisition, but his ghost lingers in Skyhold’s walls. A short piece on what Solas’ absence might feel like to those he left behind.

Taking Up the Grey, 2014. A series of drabbles following a Warden Carver Hawke and his interactions with the cast of Dragon Age: Awakening.

I don’t want this to take up more space than it already will on the dash, so I’ll link you to my writing tag on Solas and my DA multi and leave it at this. Thank you to my rp partners for the five years of inspiration! ❤️

#solas #dragon age #dragon age day #inquisitor cadash #( ooc )#( long post )#[ speaking of writing i will be doing some after i eat ]#[ also im so sorry for the repost. i forgot to tag the blog i meant to tag rip ]

14 notes · View notes

mythalsknickers · 6 years ago

Note

For the DADWC: "things you said when you were scared," with the pairing of your choice!

Here is a bit of Sollavellan for you, I had this in the works, and it was going to start out cute but then took a dive for the angst.

CC: @dadrunkwriting

Skyhold, an abandoned fortress, if it were not for the unwashed masses of the Inquisition. It was the first time in days they would sleep soundly and peacefully. Slowly, the door from her quarters was pushed open. Sliding past it Fen’aslan eased out into the shambled halls, broken timbers, and crumbled masonry. Despite the light chainmail and leather tunic she wore, her steps were almost soundless.

One thing weighed heavily on her mind. It was something only Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana had been let in on. Looking up at the balcony she felt her eyes water, she had made Dorian swear to never reveal what they saw to the others.

The red future is what they called it. Her eyes stung as tears slipped down staining her cheeks. It had been more than that; there had been no future.

Her steps fumbled along disturbing the silence, kicking chunks of masonry, and bits of timbers. Fen’aslan barely caught the glow being emitted from the cracks under the door. At that moment, her breath caught, she was back there.

There where the world burned and lyrium sang darkly to her. Demons bursting forth, all that kept her and Dorian safe had been a barrier, one of Solas’. Panic had frozen her when the doors were thrown open.

Sorrow overwhelmed her and she sank down on a pile of rubble. It was the nightmare that kept her awake at night, Solas dying and she could do nothing but watch. A sob tore at her throat like angry claws. She was trying to be quiet. All she wanted was to sneak away and paint, try to get to where she could get everything out.

“Lethallan?” She barely looked up, when had the door to the rotunda opened. Fen’aslan could barely make out his surprise, the way his brows drew together, his lips pulled into a frown. She tried to find words to explain, to put her mask back into place.

Tears still fell, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. It hurt too much, and the icy hands of despair sank in deep. Her tears fell onto the rubble. His steps were quiet as he made his way up to her. Her brows knitted, he was alive, splatted in splashes of color clinging to a dusky mud. What had he been doing?

“Lethallan, come with me please?” His hand reached out for her’s and there was a hint of a smile like he was planning something. She was unguarded, there was no chance of her even wanting to say no. Taking his hand, she carefully stood up. “Why are you up and about so late?”

She canted her head at his question worrying her lip for a moment.

“I couldn’t sleep, I was going to paint some of the columns in the garden.” she offered, her voice barely above a whisper, scratching at her throat from her crying. They were walking toward the Rotunda, and he let go of her hand giving a hint of a smirk.

“Just a moment Lethallan, I need to grab some items, then we can go somewhere more exciting.” he left her at the doorway while he dived back behind the door. Just as quickly as he had disappeared, he was back at her side with a bucket that had a thick cloth over it. Her brow knitted as he offered his hand to her.

“Would you like to learn a different medium?” She blinked at the offer, a different medium for painting. She licked her lips and gave a bit of a nod.

“I could use something to occupy my mind lethallin.” she gave a slight smile, not forced just timid. They left the main hall, they were going up to her quarters, that were too large. Solas dropped her hand seeming to look around.

“How long have you been having trouble sleeping?” she glanced at him as he touched the walls almost like he was greeting an old friend. Sighing she put her bag on the couch.

“Since Redcliffe.” she offered quietly pulling out a thin book full of blank vellum. “Well, the second time, when we captured Alexius.” She carried the book over to her nightstand setting it down.

“That is quite the time Fen’aslan.” he offered. His eyes weren’t judgemental, just concerned.

“Now this will require that indomitable focus of yours.” he teased, and she giggled, shaking her head.

“Tonight we will lay the first layer. It doesn’t have to be perfect, the idea is to lay it down, leave it coarse for the next layer.” She raised her eyebrow as he uncovered the bucket and it was a wet almost ashen looking mud.

“What exactly are you teaching me Solas?” she was curious; strolling over to him, balanced carefully on her toes, almost dancing… Standing behind him, his chuckle was warm, it melted the pit of ice that had slowly formed in her since Redcliffe.

“The medium is called Fresco, the style I am going to teach you,” he paused, smiling at her for just a moment. “dates to just before Arlathan’s fall.” pulling out a trowel he offered it to her. She stepped up in front of him, taking it. She listened to him as he told her more about it. His hand wrapped around hers; they were rough, but gentle and warm, his hands always seemed warmer than hers.

Each sweep of the trowel, a little more plaster over the wall. Eventually, it was gone, she and Solas were inside the chantry. She followed him, curious where this was going, how they were in the chantry in Haven.

“I watched over you while you slept, studying the mark. I ran every test, searched the fade.” he bowed his head for a moment before continuing. “Cassandra suspected I was assisting you in hiding the origin of the mark and threatened to have me executed if I did not produce her desired results.” There was just the barest hint of a smirk, he seemed more open.

“That is just how Cassandra tells you she cares.” she offered with a light-hearted smile. Solas gave a warm chuckle and nodded as they left the chantry.

“Yes, you were never going to wake. You were fading by the minute. A mortal sent physically through the Fade, it was too much on you.” He spun around as they stopped at the stairs. “As much as I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra, and she didn’t have faith in me. I was ready to flee.” She stepped towards him curiously.

“Where would you have gone, the breach threatened the world?” There was no place that was safe for long. He gave a nod his eyes focused intently on her.

“Someplace far away, where I could research in peace before the effects reached me.” There it was, a smirk that weakened her knees, how was he so sure of himself? “I never said it was a good plan.” This was a side she had never seen before

“I told myself one last attempt. No ordinary magic would affect them.” he sighed, holding his hand to the breach. “I resigned myself to flee, and then…” everything around her changed and she could see Solas pressing her marked hand to the rift. “It seems you hold the key to healing the veil. You had sealed it with a gesture…”He paused licking his lips. “I felt the whole world change.” She took a step closer resting a hand on her hip.

“Felt the whole world change?” she tilted her head, copper curls falling into her opaline eyes as he smiled, cocking his head towards her.

“A figure of speech.” he offered. There was no way to describe the warmth in his eyes, they sent a jolt of desire through her, kindling her own passions something she hoped he was feeling.

“I am aware, I am more interested in felt.” she offered as she closed the distance, they weren’t touching but she wanted to… she wanted to kiss him.

“You change…everything.” his voice had gotten rougher, full of emotion. It was impulsive but she quickly stepped forward, turning his head to steal a kiss.

The dread wolf could take her.

Life was too short to not risk this one thing. As she pulled back he followed her pulling her forward, she straddled his thigh as he kissed her, instead of her quick kiss, this was heated, he leaned her back pressing his leg up; she moaned silently into the kiss. As they parted, she held onto him, smiling as he shook his head leaning down to give her another kiss. It was quick and heated.

“We shouldn’t.” he slowly pulled away from her reluctantly out of breath. “It isn’t right, not even here.” his smile was cocky a bit smug, wait what did he know. Her heart racing Fen’aslan looked around…

“What do you mean “not even here”?” she asked him raising a brow as he smiled with a little head shake.

“Where’d you think we were?” he asked and just then the barest shimmer in the fade, something was shifting, or maybe she was shifting it.

“This isn’t real.” She could see it now the pieces of memories making up the dream around them, and the careful snowflakes that danced between them.

“That is a matter of debate…” he paused with a mischevious grin shrugging his shoulders. “Probably best discussed after you wake up.” Those eyes had teased her.

With no ability to react she jolted upright in her bed flushed her chainmail clinging to her, but next to her bed the drying first layer of plaster….

“Oh dread wolf just take me already.” she groaned. On her nightstand, her sketchbook was open to a small wolf huddled up against the statue of a large wolf. It was not one of her sketches. There was a small note at the corner.

Fen’aslan, I can not fathom what you saw in the alternate timeline, Arasha, know you do not have to bare all of this alone.

Solas

Smiling she rubbed her eyes biting her lip looking over at the plaster before laying back down. He wanted a discussion… she hummed to herself.

#DA drunk writing circle #Sollavellan hell #solas x lavellan #Evuniala x Solas #frescoe #Fade tigh #solas is a cocky asshole who makes everything better #Hurt comfort #Painting #reblogs welcome #mythalsknickers writes

4 notes · View notes

lyzleaf · 6 years ago

Text

So...

I found a list of random plot starters to spark some creativeness, and this is what I came up with.

Timeline, after Haven and Crestwood, before heading to the Western Approach (the first time back at Skyhold)

Enjoy!

“Josephine, I’m done.” Elli said quietly as another group of dignitaries left. She had met with what felt like an endless stream of nobles and ambassadors who were eager to meet the newly declared Inquisitor. Her face hurt from smiling, throat sore from talking, and she hadn’t had a chance to catch up with her thoughts since she returned from Crestwood this morning. Her eyelids were heavy with unbidden sleep.

Josephine looked up from her notes, her brows slightly furrowed, “There are still people to meet, some that have been here for over two weeks waiting for-” a few more envoys from Nevarra came up to them, cutting her off. Elli took this as her chance, nodding her head at the gentlemen before making her way towards her quarters.

She walked up the wooden stairs quickly, being mindful of the debris that still littered the walkway from Skyhold’s years of abandonment. There was a chill in the part of the keep, and she was grateful when she reached the top of the stairs of her room. Someone had been in the room earlier that day and had kindled a fire. Elli added a few more logs and stroked the flames before sitting back and surveying the room. Her only other time in her room was just before she went to Crestwood to meet with Stroud, and much had changed.

Someone - she assumed Josephine - had furnished the room. A large four poster bed sat as a statement in the room. The bed looked quite inviting after the almost three weeks on the road. There was a desk in the corner of the room already stacked with papers that no doubt needed her attention. The glass in the windows had been replaced with a design reminiscent of something she’s seen the craftsmen create. Most of her things had been moved here as well - her lute was sitting on the chair of the desk. Her belongings from her trip were placed neatly by her bed.

Elli let herself slide onto her back, soaking in the heat from the fire and letting the events from the past month wash over her. The journey to Skyhold was by no means easy. Haven lay under rock and snow. The heat of the fire and the smell of the battle invaded her senses.

Regret of not being able to save everyone.

Save Haven.

Knowing the reason that the Red Templars and Corypheus attacked Haven was to get to her.

The long walk to find the Inquisition camp, being led by blind faith that Chancellor Roderick’s path was true.

The relief she felt when Cullen and Cassandra found her just before she lost consciousness.

Knowing that the cause of the breach was something made by her people.

Becoming Inquisitor. She had gone from being branded a heretic to ‘leading an army of the faithful’, as Varric liked to put it. Looking at all of those people who she led to Skyhold, who now expected her to continue leading them. Elli laughed quietly - the fact that a Dalish elf is leading an Andrastian organization was not lost on her.

Then almost as soon as she had gotten to Skyhold, she and her team were off to Crestwood to meet with Hawke and her Warden contact Stroud. Not to mention that the town was being attacked by undead...caused by a rift underneath a lake....that was created by the Mayor flooding the caves and the original town...and a dragon attacking the town.

Elli threw her hands hands over her eyes, trying to avoid trapping herself in her negative emotions. She thought back to before the Conclave, of training daggers and bows with Aiden, practicing spells and keeping the lore of her people with Keeper Deshanna. The feeling of the forest floor on her feet, and the bark of the trees on her hands as she wandered. The excitement of getting to go to human cities to trade. The warmth of the sun on her back as her clan crossed the plains. She missed it. And she wasn’t quite sure if she could ever go back after everything.

After a few moments reflecting she pushed herself to her feet and away from the fire. Her satchel was by the foot of her bed with the rest of her things, and she checked through it quickly to make sure no ink had spilled before heading for the door. She had a feeling that she wouldn’t find peace in her room for much longer, if Josephine wasn’t already looking for her after she disappeared. There was also a very real possibility that she would fall asleep where she lay, an awakening no one desired.

She hesitated when she got to the door to the Great Hall, listening to hear if she could still hear the bustle of a maddening amount of people before pushing open the door. It looked like Josephine had pushed them out to their quarters. She had a feeling that she was going to hear it later, but couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Elli headed up the door opposite the door to the council and climbed up the stairs. She walked swiftly across the balcony, ducking under the scaffolding and managing to squeeze through one of the doors to the area looking over the garden.

There was still quite a bit to be repaired in this part of the keep, rubble covered most of the pathway and Elli had to be mindful of where she stepped in order to not twist her ankle. She moved as quickly as she could manage to the other side of the walkway before sitting, making sure that she was out of view of anyone that might look up from the garden.

She took her journal and inks out of her bag and opened up to her most recent sketch and listened to the sounds drifting up from the garden. She could hear Mother Giselle conversing with some of the other Chantry sisters, as well as some of the Inquisition soldiers talking amongst themselves as the people of Skyhold started to wind down from the night. The setting sun cast the sky on fire. She continued to work on her sketch - her view from an aravel back home- as the sun sank below the horizon, casting a wisp to light her page as darkness fell. However, it wasn’t long after that the blurring sounds and softer light lulled her to sleep.

.................

“Inquisitor, are you alright?”

Elli work with a start, her neck and back quite stiff from falling asleep on the hard stone. She looked up at Commander Cullen, her eyes still blurry from sleep. The lights had long sing faded and the sounds of the wind almost screamed into the night. She also realized that she was quite cold.

She started to put her belongings back in her bag before addressing the Commander, “Quite cold, but no worse for the wear. Did Josephine send out a search party?”

He snorted, “You could call it that. She was quite put off with your disappearance earlier,” he extended a hand to help Elli to her feet, which she gratefully accepted, “Apparently she was left with a swarm of Orlesian Noblemen who we a bit put off at not meeting the Inquisitor.” He let go of her hand quickly as she got to her feet, her hand feeling the cold all the more with the loss of its warmth. She contemplated casting a small warming spell, but the idea of using any sort of magic around the former Templar still made her a bit uneasy. She nodded her thanks and began to make her way back to the Great Hall with Cullen trailing behind her.

“So, how did you find me then?” She asked as they descended the stairs, their footsteps echoing in the stillness of the keep.

He ran a gloved hand through his hair - is this man ever not fully armored she thought- before her answered, “Lucky guess. I assumed that you would probably be somewhere that you wouldn’t be disturbed. Considering that the rooms overlooking the garden hadn’t been completed, it was as safe a bet as any….though I didn’t expect you to be on the balcony, of all things.”

“I like being outside, what can I say?” Their pace slowed as they approached the door to her quarters. “Thank you for waking me though, I rather like having all of my limbs.”

He gave a small smile before stopping at the door, “Inquisitor...how long has it been since you’ve slept?”

She looked at him, confused, “Why do you ask?”

“Because falling asleep with no protections set, even in a place like Skyhold, isn’t like you, Ellinor.”

She took a quick intake of breath at hearing him use her name. It felt like so long since anyone had addressed her as such. She also knew that Cullen was right.

She hesitated, torn, before answering “A while”

He exhaled sharply, then seemed to collect himself. “Before or after Haven?”

More questions “Before.”

He frowned slightly, appearing more troubled by the thought than Elli had expected, but before she could reply, Cullen was leaving. “I need to meet with Josephine before I retire for the night...but can you promise me something?”

Elli lifted her eyebrows, “I’ll hear it, I’m making no guarantees beyond that.”

He laughed quietly, “Just...talk to someone about what happened. No one else here has been through all that you have. You of all people-”

Elli interrupted him, “Thank you Cullen, I appreciate your concern.” She didn’t add what had crept up in the back of her mind, that she didn’t need pity, she needed strength. He looked at her, his expression still concerned before nodding and retreating to Josephine’s office. Elli opened the door up to her quarters and ascended the steps quickly. She had felt warmer when Cullen was standing close to her, in more ways than one. She pushed the thought away.

The fire in the hearth had long since died when she reached it. She put a few logs into the fire and lit it with a touch of a fire spell, casting the rest of the room in a warm glow. Too tired to consider drawing a bath, she stripped from her clothes and boots, shoving them in a pile by the dresser. She found a light shift with her small clothes and pulled it over her head quickly before throwing herself on the bed.

She closed her eyes and attempted to drift off, wanting to return to that deep sleep that she had managed to find earlier, but her mind would not rest. Her thoughts were racing a thousand miles a minute with no direction. It took almost an hour before she finally fell under, with one last thought floating through her mind.

How was he sleeping?

#lavellan #Elli Lavellan #Cullen #dragon age

5 notes · View notes

mindtrove · 6 years ago

Text

No Compromises

So I’m sure there’s some typos here and there but I haven’t written in ages so I’m just gonna post it anyway.

I need to get back into the swing of writing so here we have Solas finally have a one-to-one with Moro’s brother Pharaan which doesn’t go exactly how he hoped.

There were no words to express the amount of gratitude Pharaan felt towards Enchanter Vivienne. In how she orchestrated what would such a momentous mark in the mage’s life. If Pharaan had been asked years ago whether he ever expected to be reunited with his sister he would have thought the fool daft. A foolish hope that had withered and died, a long with many other things as the circles were so known for.

But then again, he would have thought it daft that the circles would be disbanded, that he would end up in the ranks of the loyalists and a giant hole into the fade would be dancing in the sky.

Life had taken an odd turn.

When he had first laid eyes on Moro after so many years he almost doubted if it was really her. But then he his grandmothers silks she adorned, and most importantly, he saw that large deep scar that marked her left jaw. He could never forget the day she had gotten it, it was the day everything had changed. For him. For his family. Looking at that mark he had cast on her when he was a boy filled him with a deep pit of melancholy and guilt.

He stared at it even now, while he and Moro walked the gardens. She talked absent mindedly about her new life as inquisitor. In all honesty neither of them cared much for it but they didn't know how to start on what they truly wished to speak about. It had been what? twenty ? Thirty years? How did you start to mend a relationship with someone who feels both as kin and stranger?

Moro saw where her brother’s eyes fixated on her face. She smiled, her fingers touching the long and angry looking scar.

“When me and father made it to the Dalish the Keeper offered to heal the scar but I refused,” The smile slowly fell from her face. “I felt it was all that there was left of you behind.”

They had slowly come to halt, taking their seats at a more secluded part of the gardens, flowers littered everywhere and the faded background noise of chatter encased them but they could barely notice it under the weighted feelings and words logged in their minds.

Pharaan stared at his hands.

“I would say your names every night when they took me to the circle,” a small red vial appeared in his lap, his thumb brushing over the glass surface. “It was the only thing I could think of to make sure I didn’t forget I have a family.”

While Pharaan was distracted by the vial in his hands, Moro was able to take in all of her brothers features. He looked so much like their father, they had both taken after him in many ways. It hurt that he looked so much like him in the way his face conveyed his weariness, in the way he recalled awful memories.

He looked a lot like their father the last few years of their time in the Alienage. When Pharaan had been taken away by the templars and their mother dead from the grief. But as they continued to speak, to understand each other and learn more of what they had both missed of each other’s lives she had made him laugh, made him smile and groan from the more embarrassing tales. In those moments it was nice to see a glimpse of what her father would have looked like in similar moments.

A man hard as stone had beared children that emulated the same facade. But they were not as good at it as he had been, whether Moro or Pharaan would admit it or show it, they carried their mother’s soft heart.

“So…” Pharaan starts, and at once his voice goes lower in timbre, serious, and a disciplined glint in his eye that gave Moro the instinctual impression she was about to be told off. “The Apostate.”

Ah, this would be fun. She had forgotten where Pharaan placed his allegiance in political affairs.

“There are a lot of apostates in Skyhold Pharaan.”

Pharaan did not even entertain a response to her sarcasm. Simply staring deadpanned, waiting for her explanation.

“Your dwarven friend was quick to introduce himself and make conversation. Informing me that my sister had…’a sweetheart’, as he put it.”

She would have to give Varric an earful later.

Moro simply rolled her eyes, sighing as she crossed one of her legs over the other, turning to face away from Pharaan. Ignoring the chiding tut that escapes her brothers lips as she pushes her hair over her shoulder.

“I know I am in no position to be making demands or questioning your choices Moro but...relationships with his sort are...most unwise…”

“He is a bit of a smartass but that’s hardly worthy of any caution.”

“Moro-”

“And I honestly don’t see why you-”

“Kafia! Heed what I have to say girl.”

The Nevarren rolled off his tongue eloquent and harsh, it took away whatever smart retorts Moro had left. It was becoming apparent that Pharaan was more than displeased that a hedge mage had taken an interest in his sister, and succeeded in their desire to court her.

Moro glared at her brother, meeting him dead in the eye. Offering her silence but never truly relinquishing control as she always had done. She would let him say his peace, but he would also remember his place. Her choices were hers alone.

“What do you know of him?” Pharaan asks.

“He is a mage, has been living alone and travelling all over Thedas…”

“What of his upbringing?”

“He grew up farther north, in a village.”

“What village.”

“I don’t know!”

“Nice and vague...you see that is what they do Moro. Withholding information and lying both dance on similar strings,” Pharaan’s posture and nonchalance as he adjusts his robes does well to hide his displeasure for the conversation. But there is a confidence there, or arrogance as Moro felt inclined to see it in how he made all these assumptions of Solas. Like he had told this lecture so many times before. “It is typical behaviour.”

“For an apostate?” Moro questioned with a sneer.

“For anyone who is trouble,” Pharaan elaborated, his features softenning. He takes hold of her hand, gives a pleading squeeze. “I know I have no right, our seperation has been for far too long but...I would not see you hurt.”

Moro scoffed, “I am no stranger to that Pharaan, if our love should fail it is likely it will be of my own doing. Ramia’s father would still be here if otherwise…”

“Men like him only lead to misery,” Pharaan lifts the sleeve of his robe, his sister’s eyes widening at the large and jagged scar that danced across his forearm. It was faint, unseen unless one looked close. “They will take, and take...until you have nothing left.”

“Pharaan…”

Pharaan rises, righting himself and making his way out the gardens and towards the main keep.

“I will be amicable, but I can make no promises.”

_________________________________________________

Solas had always been intrigued by the brother stolen away to the circles that Moro had confided in him about when first she had begun to trust him and open up to her. A small twinge of pride in knowing magic ran through her family tree, that perhaps the inevitable meeting could be softened in finding commonality in a shred skill for the arcane.

Such optimism thrown out the window the moment he learnt of the man’s allegiances.

It was hard in and of itself dealing with Enchanter Vivienne’s worldview of magic and the circles, but that Moro’s brother believed in such opinions as well?

It was going to be a long morning.

But he promised Moro he would behave, be civil, and make an effort. Even though he didn’t want to. He had learnt all too well from Varric Pharaan’s reaction to learning his sister was “messing about” with an apostate.

He was taken from his thoughts as he reached the top of the stairs that led to a balcony with a particularly exceptional view of Skyhold courtyard. Pharaan was already seated, making polite conversation with a servant who set about the many assortments for the morning meal. Moro was nowhere in sight, which aided in Solas’ unease.

“She will be late,” Pharaan exclaims without so much as a glance in Solas’ direction. Seeming to pick up on the elf’s eyes casting on a third unfilled seat. “Matters to attend to and such…”

“Of course…” Solas mutters in a dry tone. Pharaan either didn’t notice or chose not to notice the hint of sarcasm as he poured himself some tea. Both knowing full well they weren’t left to their own devices purely out of coincidence.

Pharaan pours the strong herbal tea into another cup for Solas. Solas smiles to himself as he watches the man before him, pot held high as he effortlessly performs the task without splashing or causing harm. He has seen Moro do it on many occasions.

“Why pour it in such a way?” Solas asks. “Your sister does it all the time.”

“It is simply force of habit,” Pharaan chuckles, “Our mother always did so, it goes back quite a ways.” He picks up his own cup taking a long sip and humming in approval at the taste.

“Although I do notice I do not have to wait so long for it to cool enough to drink when I do so.”

Pastries and fruit decorated the table, the former elaborate and delectable to the eye. Pharaan’s hands land on a tray of dates. Solas takes note of how deliberate and slow the enchanter’s movements are, nothing he does is rushed or haphazard.

“No desire for something more indulgent?” Solas asks him as he takes something for himself. While Pharaan’s friendly facade, as Solas knew all too well that was all it was, a facade; had cracked for all but a moment. His eyes hardened with disapproval.

“I am a man of discipline. Indulgence I’m afraid is not something I am prone to succumbing to.” Pharaan claimed. Solas scoffed, the remark’s true meaning not lost on him.

“And here I thought we were on a good start.”

“We were on a good start because I allowed it.”

“You do not approve of me.”

It was not a posed as a question but as a statement. If politeness and courtesy was lost on this man than Solas felt no more need to pretend. Getting straight to the point.

“So, are you suspicious of my intentions? Worried I intend to bide my time before performing some abhorrent blood ritual on your family?”

Pharaan all the while continued to drink from his cup, giving a harge sigh as he laid back down his cup. Hands rested on crossed legs as he looked out over the courtyard.

“I do not bother with questions that will give me no satisfactory answer.” Pharaan boredly replied. “You are trouble, as all your kind are.”

Solas bit his tongue, tempted to speak up but the enchanter was far from finished.

“It is wonderful though,” Pharaan began, sparing a glance in Solas’ direction. “There is a thrill to the chase and claim of men like you, a high if you will and you and my sister at at its peak”.

He rose finishing the last of his tea and holding the cup in hand and giving Solas his full attention. His eyes looked knowing, the same piercing stare that was always seen in Moro. But these did not soften or shine with any warmth for Solas as hers had.

“But all highs come with a low, and there will be nothing but pain and misery when you both reach it. You will leave her scarred and lost.”

“I love her Pharaan.” Solas defends as he stands to meet the man’s gaze.

“Oh I’m sure you believe that my friend.” Pharaan laughs. “But it changes nothing. Not my opinion of you, and unfortunately… neither will it change the outcome of this dance you have with Moro.”

Both men hear Moro’s voice in the distance, instead of returning to their seats, Pharaan lays down his cup and prepares for his departure.

“She will have to learn first hand what comes with loving an apostate...just as I had…”

Pharaan’s voice falters at the last statement, and Solas’ eyes catch at the angry and deep scar that trails down the inside of Pharaan’s forearm. He had seen many like it in dreams. Victims of blood magic, who masters wished to prolong the use of the blood without killing.

Pharaan notices where the mage’s eyes linger and all at once he rushes to hide the scar, bidding Solas goodbye just as his sister arrives. Apologising for his hasty retreat and disappearing from the balcony. Leaving a bewildered and disappointed Moro behind.

But he knew this would not be the last confrontation to be had with the apostate.

#solas #solavellan #moro and solas #pharaan #dragonage inquisition #fic #fanfiction #Pharaan does not like Solas one bit #I need to go into more detail about his own experience falling in love with an apostate #mindtrove

17 notes · View notes

irlaimsaaralath · 7 years ago

Note

"Oh, my belovèd, have you thought of this: How in the years to come unscrupulous Time, More cruel than Death, will tear you from my kiss, And make you old, and leave me in my prime?" So I was reading Edna St Vincent Millay poems and this one (the whole thing but this part especially) struck me as very Solavellan. I say as someone who hasn't romanced the egg in ages bc I'm still mad at him from my first DAI playthrough

Apologies for this taking so long.

Also, Solas ugly cries. Sry not sry.

Standing in the courtyard at the base of the stairs into the main hall, the people of Skyhold moved around him as if he were invisible. In fairness, they were the craftsmen and laborers and had little reason to note him, and he, likewise, had his grey-blue eyes turned to the fortress and paid them no mind. It had been years since he had stood within Skyhold’s walls, and it was likely he would not have recognized any of the faces even if he had looked. His easy gait carried him up and through the double doors to the unoccupied hall beyond. Each step echoed as he made his way to her chambers, and he couldn’t help but think how strange it was to see so massive a space so utterly vacant. As it ever was, her heraldry hung high on the wall, and her throne sat empty. They were the only witnesses as he passed through her door.

Along the walkway, his steps were quiet, the sharpness of his sabatons muted by the wood underfoot, and as he topped the short set of steps to her chambers, he didn’t bother to knock. When he passed through the door, he was immediately assailed by the scent of blackberries and sage – it was her favorite soap. He paused to breathe her in, filling his lungs and relishing in the tingle it sent across his skin. When he rounded the top of the stairs, he expected to find her there, but she was nowhere to be seen. A shard of apprehension shot through him, and his brow fell low. “Niyera?” Her answer was prompt: “On the balcony.” He thought it curious, but his relief was such that he did not question, simply went to her. Her back faced him, and her hand rested lightly on the railing. He noted that her hair was much longer than it had been when last he saw her, even more so than when she joined the Inquisition. Gone was the braid that held back the strands from her shaved undercut, and instead, her hair was thick and full and swept the small of her back.

“Why have you come, Solas?” she asked, with no malice in her voice, only a calm curiosity. The air was particularly biting, more so than it seemed it should be, and he stepped toward her, close enough that the pelt over his shoulder brushed the back of her arm. “I missed you, vhenan,” he replied, and a sharp wind off the mountain teased strands of her hair against his hand. He shifted closer, settling a hand on her hip as he bowed his head to press his nose into the hair behind her ear. “We both know that isn’t so, ma lath,” she said, a mirthless chuckle tumbling over her lips. “It is past time that you were honest with me and with yourself.” The hand on her hip slid to encircle her waist, and his eyes closed as he pulled her tight against him. The way he held her, it was as if he was trying to memorize the feel of her body on his – her lines, her warmth, the way they fit just so. When he spoke, his voice was strained, “I do not know what you mean. You are never far from my thoughts, vhenan.”

With gentle fingers, he drew the hair back from her neck and placed the softest kiss just beneath her ear. He felt as well as heard her sigh. “Perhaps not, but that is not why you are here,” she said as she turned in his arms and tilted her gaze to his. Her viridian eyes were dark, but clear as always, though lines now crinkled her skin at the corners. Around her face, strands of silver mingled with the white, and her pale skin was lined with more scars than he remembered and infinitely more wrinkles. Regardless, she still stole his breath. “You know you should not be here,” she continued as she smoothed a hand over the pelt on his shoulder. “I told you not to return,” she finished, quieter, as her fingers lingered against his neck. Abashed, he let his eyes stray from hers as he resettled his arms about her waist. She was right, of course; she always was. Even when she did not know his name, she knew how to read him. “Forgive me. This is the only place I want to be,” he intoned, “I do not know how to stay away.” She braced a gentle finger on his jawline to turn his face back to hers. Meeting her eyes, he found sadness, regret, even love, though it was a love left unsatisfied. Taken for granted. “You do. You always have. There is just something here you can’t find anywhere else,” she accused, her hand having come to rest beneath his chin. Her thumb eased over the dimple on his chin.

So simple a touch, but it sent a tremor through him, ice under his skin. Her hand fell to his chest, and she patted his armor in the space over his heart before a light push caused him to withdraw his arms and stand aside. He watched as she began inside, and only at long last did he speak, “What is that, vhenan?” On the threshold of the balcony doors, she paused, glancing back at him as she spoke, “Punishment. But, I am no longer inclined to give it to you.” His features drew taut as she turned away from him, and though his mouth opened to speak, he managed to say nothing at all. This is not how he had imagined this would be, how he needed it to be. Following in her footsteps, he found her before the hearth, her arm wrapped across her stomach. She said nothing, only stared into the fire, while the flames lit her features in light and shadow. “I…do not understand,” he finally said as he stepped toward her, and her head canted in his direction. “Of course you don’t. You’ve come here expecting to find what you always find: a shadow,” she said, and while her voice was firm, there was no anger in it. “But, I am not a shadow, Solas. I am that which casts it, and I will not allow you to use me for your self-flagellation.”

His mouth abruptly went dry as his grey-blue eyes widened. No. It was not possible. Before he could move or speak, she was standing before him, with her fingertips on his cheek. When her touch grazed his brow, his breath hitched in his chest with the flash of images before his mind’s eye. – It was their life. Together. The years in the Inquisition. When they’d met, how they’d fallen in love. All the moments that wove them together like threads, knotted and bound. How he’d cut those threads, abandoned her even before he left her. Then the years she had searched for him. Two sides of the same coin, facing in opposite directions always, but inextricably bound. How she’d found him, and he’d turned from her yet again, forsaking her love, their love, for a destiny he could not be convinced to abandoned. How many more years had she searched? So many. Until at last she’d found him. Still more time had passed before he’d relented, and by the time he had made amends, won back her trust, the balance of her life was nearly spent. The years that had seemed so few to him were a literal lifetime to her. He’d taken her for granted yet again.

Anguished and wretched, a broken cry struggled from his lips as she withdrew her hand. His knees had become too weak to hold him, and so he slid to the floor, knelt at her feet. “It is actually you,” he said, barely audible. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so they rested on his knees. “I thought…the memory was all I had left of you,” he confessed, face downturned. An almost bitter chuckle exited her, and she summoned his gaze with light fingertip on his cheek. “My body was not the only thing left scarred by our love, ma lath,” she said softly, with a voice that was meant to be soothing, but drew tears to his eyes. He bowed his head, helpless to do otherwise, unable to hold her gaze. “I am so…sorry, Niyera, vhenan,” he struggled to say through his tears, the weeping that made his shoulders sag and tremble. “Ar lath ma, above all else. But, I squandered our time, your life. If only I could-,” his words were clipped short by her interruption. “But you can’t. And it’s time you accepted that,” her fingers were a chill that slipped beneath his chin to lift his face.

Tears ran silver streaks down his face, that were then glossed a pale green as the Fade began to fray the edges of her form. “I am so weary, Solas, my Fen’Harel,” and even as she spoke, pale terror washed across his eyes as he lurched up from sitting on his heels. Under his gaze, the Fade teased tendrils of her essence away from the whole, unraveling her one strand at a time. “No!” he begged as he clutched at her hand, then her waist, trying to hold her together by sheer will alone. “Niyera, don’t go! I can't…” He felt the weight of her embrace on his shoulders, the press of her lips to the top of his head, and smelled the blackberry-sage scent that haunted her as she haunted him. “Ir abelas, vhenan,” she whispered, the sound assailing him from all directions as she slipped from his grasp. “Never doubt that I loved you,” came her voice once more as his arms closed on empty air, and he fell forward, braced on his hands with his head bowed. The arched line of his back shook with the force of his sobs, and he curled in on himself as the last of her, a rush of white, spiraled away into nothing.

The pain of his sorrow was physical, and he felt it in every fiber, every sinew of his being. The culmination of it sat him straight as he threw back his head and howled his grief. It reverberated across the Fade, rippling out from him to tear through the mist-made walls of Skyhold until he was left kneeling in the center of a vast emptiness, with only fingers of Fade reaching to comfort him. His eyes fell closed, and he took a deep but trembling breath. When he opened them again, he was back in the chilly basement storage of Skyhold where the eluvian was housed. Around him, it was silent and dim and hollow. Everything was hollow. The tears he’d shed in the Fade were warm on his cheeks outside of it, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He should go before he was discovered, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to move. So, he folded his arms over his stomach, bent double by his grief, and mourned the loss of the only thing he still held sacred.

#poetry prompt #solavellan #solas ugly cries #niyera

36 notes · View notes

shannaraisles · 7 years ago

Text

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 56 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: None Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

The Ties That Bind Us

Rory could be wrong, but it seemed as though someone might have had a hand in making sure the sun was shining warm on the day chosen for the wedding.

The evidence of the last snow had been thawed away by mid-morning, the grass sparkling wetly in the courtyard as men and women rushed to and fro, finishing the last of the preparations for the marriage to be celebrated at noon. Josephine had outdone herself - thanks to her meticulous attention to detail, all scaffolding in the main hall had been cleared; the completed mosaics on the walls gleamed; the stained glass behind the dais had been finished on time, pouring a gorgeous dappling of bright color down onto the dais itself. The throne had been taken away for the day, replaced with a bower twined with Crystal Grace and fragrant embrium; the sunken feasting areas were set with chairs for the guests to take their places.

Kaaras had generously offered his own quarters for Rylen to be got ready for his big moment. The Starkhaven captain had been up there since last night, in the solid company of his brother and the Qunari Inquisitor, recently joined by Cullen, too, all three doing their utmost to make sure that he was as ready to take his vows as anyone could hope for. Vivienne had offered her own rooms for Evy to prepare in, though she, thankfully, had vacated the chambers almost as soon as Evy, Edith, and Rory had ventured there that morning. Francoise, the seamstress, was beside herself with excitement, finally able to show someone the beautiful dress and be showered with praise, even as they maneuvered the thing onto the bride herself.

As noon approached, the hall began to fill ... not simply with the nobles present in Skyhold, but with soldiers, templars, workers; all the friends both Rylen and Evy had made over the past months together. Elves, dwarves, Qunari, and humans were there, the Inquisition stalwarts quite happy to glare human nobles from Orlais, Ferelden, and the Free Marches into silencing their muttered disapproval of the sheer diversity of the celebration forming around them. Josephine was still directing the operation, her board in hand, as the minutes ticked toward the zenith of the day. The time was fast approaching that everyone had been looking forward to almost since the day they had arrived in Skyhold.

A little collusion with Dorian meant that the altus entered in his finest regalia and drew all eyes to himself, allowing for Evy to be rushed across the balcony overlooking the hall and into the library without anyone below looking up and getting a peek at her. This was the signal for Jim to run up to the Inquisitor's quarters and let Rylen's brother know it was time to bring the groom downstairs as the minstrels started to play, providing a little underlying music for the chatter that filled the hall.

In the rotunda, Rory embraced her friend - her cousin - warmly, kissing her cheek.

"You look beautiful," she promised Evy. "He's the luckiest man in Skyhold, and he knows it."

Evy blushed, dark ringlets brushing her cheeks from the elaborate crown of curls her mother had worked so hard to create. "I'm glad you're here, Rory," she said softly. "If you hadn't trusted me to help you, all those months ago, I don't know where I'd be today."

"If you hadn't been there, I don't know where I would be, either," Rory told her honestly, aware that Lady Edith and Bann Galen were watching their interaction with more than idle interest. "I have to go to my seat. Just remember ... tits and teeth."

Evy snorted her way into an outburst of giggles, nodding excitedly as Rory drew away, carefully opening the door into the hall just enough to slide out without letting anyone see inside. Kaaras was in evidence, standing beside Mother Giselle on the dais, looking extremely uncomfortable to be there at all. She couldn't blame him; he was Andrastian, to a certain extent, but he really wasn't comfortable with the fact that Rylen and Evy had asked for him to bless their marriage. Leliana appeared to have taken Josephine in hand; the two women were sitting together at the very front of the hall, not a quill or board in sight.

Rory made her way down the aisle as the stragglers began to find their seats, flashing Kaaras an encouraging grin as she found her own place in front of Helene and Cassandra, near the door to the Inquisitor's tower. A few minutes later, Cullen came into view, sidling into the seat beside hers as Rylen walked to his own position before the dais, his brother close at his back.

"All under control?" she asked quietly.

Cullen glanced down at her, the taut pull of his scar betraying a smile just barely held in check. "As it will ever be," he murmured. "Thank the Maker we decided to skip this part."

"Tell me about it," she drawled in amusement, happy to let him wrap his bare hand about hers, always feeling that gentle thrill when his thumb smoothed over his mother's ring on her finger.

A burst of fanfare trumpets announced the arrival of the bride and, like everyone else, Rory rose to peer through the gathered dignitaries and friends to see Evelyn Trevelyan take her last steps as an unmarried woman. She really was beautiful, walking between her parents with a measured pace. Francoise had outdone herself with the gown - it was a gorgeous confection of antiqued lace, bare shoulders, full sleeves, fitted bodice narrow to the waist until the skirt flared from the hips. A real princess gown, perfectly suited to the beautiful woman wearing it. Evy truly was radiant, her happiness at this moment setting her a-glow as she took her place at Rylen's side. Rylen himself was attired in the best formal-wear Josephine had been able to procure for him, the tunic a rich crimson that suited his dusky coloring well. They were a perfect pair, and as they looked at one another in the dappled fall of light from the stained glass above them, there could be no doubt that this was a match made in love.

Seated once more, Rory couldn't stop smiling, deeply proud of her friends for following their hearts when the world around them could so easily have stolen this happiness away. As the vows were spoken, she glanced to Cullen, leaning into his arm as he kissed her brow, both of them recalling their own vows spoken not so very long ago. Behind them, she heard Cassandra blow her nose discreetly, biting her lip to keep from giggling. The Seeker really was a hopeless romantic. She deserved the love Kaaras had to give her, if only she could let herself accept it. When the time came for the Inquisitor to speak, Rory thought she could hear a hidden message for the woman he loved in the words he offered as a blessing.

"We are greeted by fresh faces enthralled by true love, and should nurture that above all," Kaaras declared, one large hand laid over the joined fingers of the newly-wedded pair before him. "But we cannot completely turn from duty. Passion may burn, but duty requires two hearts with strong wills to tend it. A strong pairing finds its own nobility. Passion burns bright. In a time of uncertainty, it brings us hope. Let it flare so that all can see. That joy is not held back by war or need or name. This moment is for you and your union, no one else. But we are privileged to witness it, and to celebrate with you. Be happy, above all."

"Wise words," Cullen murmured as the gathered witnesses rose for Mother Giselle's last blessing. "Did he write them?"

"I think Varric may have helped a little," Rory whispered back, sharing a grin with her own husband as they raised their hands to applaud the union joined before them. "Left to his own devices, Kaaras might just have told them to live long and happy, and make lots of babies."

Cullen chuckled quietly. "Then I think I owe that dwarf a drink," he admitted in a rueful tone, unconsciously slipping a hand about her waist as they turned to watch Evy and Rylen escorted out into the sunshine by her parents and his brother. "They deserve this."

"They do," she agreed happily, glancing to the row behind.

Cassandra's face was suspiciously wet, but she was at least under control. Helene, on the other hand, was sniffling into her gloves merrily, and she wasn't the only one showing her pleasure in the union. There were tears and smiles, warm laughter and the rising tide of congratulatory chatter, as the various nobles and not-so-nobles moved to clear the hall for the preparations to begin for the feast. Kaaras thumped down from the dais, making a beeline for Cassandra, and for once, Cullen didn't even look suspicious when Rory paused, making a show of adjusting the hang of his mantle so she could eavesdrop.

"Was it ... did I do it right?" the Inquisitor asked the Nevarran Seeker worriedly. "I didn't know if -"

"It was beautiful, Inquisitor," Cassandra interrupted him, her smile just visible from the corner of Rory's eye. "I ... I think you performed it very well."

Kaaras visibly relaxed, his familiarly boyish smile shining forth at this reassurance. "Will you dance with me, later?" he asked hopefully.

Cassandra hesitated. "I-I ... do not know if that would be appropriate," she demurred, and Cullen gripped Rory's elbows, meeting her gaze with an amused glint in his whiskey-lit eyes.

"Don't interfere," he warned his wife softly. "Just get a few cups of wine into her before the dancing starts."

Rory stared up at him, her eyes wide with surprise at this unexpectedly underhanded side of her commander. "I thought you didn't approve of distracting romances?" she asked, accusingly fond as he drew her away with the rest of the crowd.

"I don't believe anyone deserves a little distraction more than those two," he murmured innocently. "Except perhaps us."

"Am I not distracting enough anymore, or is it the romance that's lacking?" she asked with a playful smile.

He let loose a quiet laugh, turning to cup her jaw in his palm as he leaned down to her. "I'll show you later," he promised, lips brushing hers with a tender kiss that promised her a night she would not forget in a hurry.

But for now, and for several hours until then, they had friends to congratulate, to celebrate with, an evening of music and laughter and love, bringing something more than war and loss to Skyhold's walls for the first time in centuries. Surely not even the Dread Wolf could disapprove of that.

Short, I know, but I couldn't let Evy and Rylen's wedding pass by off-screen, as it were! And if you're interested ... here's the dress:

#set in darkness #multi-chapter fic #MGiT #modern girl in thedas #cullen rutherford/original female character #cullen rutherford/rory allen #rory allen #cullen rutherford #evy trevelyan #rylen #cassandra pentaghast #kaaras adaar #mother giselle #lady edith trevelyan #bann galen trevelyan #helene #WEDDING #short but sweet #i promise there is actual plot coming soon

4 notes · View notes

cloudgazercadash · 7 years ago

Text

That Mercy you to others show, show that Mercy to me

set post-blackwall’s personal quest in a canon where she romanced him.

“Another letter down,” Thora announced, knocking the freshly sealed envelope into a pile beside her desk, “another dozen more to go.”

Solas smiled behind the pages of his book. “I expect Ambassador Montilyet did not explain to you the amount of paperwork required when you became Inquisitor, did she?”

“No, she didn’t.” The dwarf released a weary sigh, already hunching over the next blank sheet of paper with her quill in hand. “If I said something I’m sure she’d have a solution, but this just... well, I’d rather just deal with it myself.”

“I see. How highly the Inquisitor values me,” he said, with mock offense, “that my presence is not even accounted for.”

She grinned. “Well, I need my spellchecker, don’t I?”

Once Solas may have agreed, but as the months passed Thora’s requests became fewer and far between. However, it had become habit for him to sit with her while she wrote by now. He no longer wondered why it was him of all people she asked to sit with her. He carried no title, save the name he had chosen for himself, and put on no airs. Though Josephine was undoubtedly better suited for the role she could not understand the struggles that came with being a self-taught writer. Thora could ask without shame, knowing he, too, had once asked himself the same question.

The sound of her quill scratching against parchment stopped abruptly, and Solas was already looking at her in anticipation of her question. “How do you spell ‘genuine’?”

Her answer came to him in Elvhen before anything else, the flat letters of the King’s Tongue did not stick in his mind the same way his mother language did. With his index finger he traced the letters upon his thigh, then said, “G-e-n-u-i-n-e.” Thora wrote as he spelled, her penmanship more deliberate for that handful of letters before it flowed back into her usual loose style.

“Thanks.”

Solas hummed in response, watching her a moment before returning to his book. It was good to see her at ease again after the last month’s trials. The shadow of Corypheus loomed over them still, but that threat was nearly a welcome return to form after Blackwall’s abrupt disappearance. They fell into an easy silence, or what could pass for silence between them. Her quill scraped along the coarse parchment, and he whispered the words of his book against his left fist, so that they did not drift from his mind. That afternoon, however, even that trick could not stop his mind from wandering away from the pages.

“May I ask you a question?” he asked as he closed his book, fingertip slipping between the pages.

“You ask me a question?” she teased in return, a good-natured jibe that brough a quirk to the corners of his lips. It was true their relationship was founded on questions, but for so long it had been a one-way street. The Mark had done more than alter Thora’s abilities, it had reshaped her relationship with reality itself. Questions were inevitable. Today, however, it was Solas whose tongue burned with a question begging to be answered. But it did not concern spirits, nor the green scar upon Thora’s left hand-- no. Those Solas understood, better than anyone in this castle could know. It was her he struggled to understand. Thora finished writing the end of her sentence and dipped the tip of her quill in the inkwell, turning her attention to him. A smile graced her features, eyes shining in the sun that streamed in from the windows. “Ask away, but if it’s about the next chapter of Sword & Shields I’m afraid Varric swore me to secrecy... so it’ll cost you.”

Solas snorted, shaking his head. “In that case I shan’t compromise your integrity.” He looked away, towards her still unmade bed. The frame hung low to the ground, its height carefully measured to match Thora’s short legs. It was clear from the shape of the pillows that she hadn’t slept alone last night. The mattress sank in two places, one distinctively longer than the other. No doubt it was quite the sight seeing Blackwall clamber from the Orzammar-made bed.

No... not Blackwall, it was Rainier now.

The revelation had stung him more than he had let on. When the Wardens turned from their purpose, slaying their brothers and sisters, it was Blackwall Solas had considered as the exception. His crimes alone were more than enough to damn him, but he had made a fool of the Inquisition, and of Solas himself. His hands tightened around the book he held, knuckles glowing white.

“How did you find it in yourself to forgive him?” Their eyes met again, his placid gaze masking his doubts. Thora’s jaw slackened, her expression falling from its cheerful grin. He leaned closer to her, resting his elbows carefully upon her desk, so as not to disturb her papers. “If I have overstepped my bounds,” he added, voice softer than before, “you need not answer.”

“No, I-- it’s a fair question,” she said, smoothing the wrinkles from her shirt. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it. To be honest with you, Solas, I wasn’t sure I was going to.”

“No?” Solas had watched dozens of times as Thora had turned traitors into assets, proving that a merciful choice was not always a weak one. Indeed, swinging an axe was often the easier path.

“Well, no. I mean... he lied to me. He lied to you, to all of us, and I was upset. Mad as hell. For weeks all I had to do was think about him and-- bam!” She snapped. “Instant Beserker.” Thora smiled half-heartedly at him. “Blood and sweat have a way about hiding tears.” She pushed back her chair, rising to her feet. With her Anchored hand she motioned for him to follow, abandoning the shelter of her room for the sun-bleached balcony. To rest her elbows comfortably on the banister she had to rock forward on her toes, the heel of her hand propping up her chin.

Solas followed, forgetting his book upon the desk. He stopped short of joining her and lingered in the doorway. From this angle the Frostbacks framed her figure: sky and mountain met beyond her, and he could think of no better image for the Fade-touched dwarf before him. Not even if he had painted it. “But you did forgive him,” he pressed, “why?

“I doubt there’s a single innocent person here,” she said, shrugging thoughtfully. “If there’s anywhere he can earn forgiveness from the Maker it’s here. Maybe it’s cliché, but Skyhold has always felt like a place for second chances. I’ve felt that way ever since you brought us here.” Thora glanced over her shoulder at him, patting the empty spot beside her on the stone banister. “Don’t you agree?”

Her observation was more apt than she likely realised, but it failed to answer the true root of his question. Solas moved in beside her, palms pressing flat against the balustrade. The architecture itself ached with potential, seeking rebirth from the ones who now called it home. Grey eyes skirted the courtyard below, their corners crinkling when they found what Solas had not realised he sought: a shock of ginger hair hidden among the garden flowers. The smile was short-lived, lips drawing together as his mind returned to the nature of their conversation.

“Whether I do or not,” Solas said, each word chosen as deliberately as Thora’s letter, “Mercy alone does not explain your choice.” Even he could deny that Thom Rainier deserved a second chance at life, but a place in her bed? It defied reason.

Thora was quiet for a long time. Solas shifted from one foot to the other, convinced he had offended her this time. “... You’re asking why I still love him?”

“Yes.”

“It isn’t like you to be so indirect.”

“Love is a delicate topic, even among spirits. There is a reason Love is so rare.”

She laughed. “I guess you’ve got a point.” She lifted her elbows off the balustrade, rubbing her hands together to stave off the cold that crept into her fingers. Her eyes were trained below, and he wanted to ask if she had seen Thom as he had seen Ian. “I thought about that even longer,” she confessed. “I questioned every moment we had ever spent together, every exchange, everything. I kept asking myself what had been real, who it was I had been in love with all this time.” Today no tears pricked the Inquisitor’s eyes, but he could see the memory of them shining. Her voice strained as she picked at the new wound, careful not to let it bleed. “They were some of the hardest questions I’d ever answered.”

Solas’s stomach lurched at the possibilities: what other questions dogged her sleep, and would Ian one day ask the same of them? He knew it was real, that it had always been real, but in dreams Solas had felt the ice of Ian’s doubts for himself. His necklace swayed around his neck, the jaw tapping against his chest rhythmically.

“And what answers did you find?”

“That it was real.” A complex question with a simple answer, but Thora continued, “Maybe not all real, but real enough for us to start over.” Her teeth worried her lower lip, brow furrowing. “I mean, it’s not like I was blind. I knew he hadn’t always been the man I know today. Paragon Tamar-- I mean, Tamar told me many Wardens had been conscripted as criminals, and it’s easy to feel when someone has something they’re trying to make up for, seeing how I’m one of them.” She rubbed the brand on her cheek unconsciously. “So I asked myself, what did I love about him? And I figured I loved how he fought for what he thought was right, how he had always treated me like I was special, even when I was just an agent. I liked his laugh, and how he spent his free time making toys for kids. And even in his... duplicity, he was still straightforward, right? What he thought, he told me.” Solas recognised the look on her face, the dazed expression that came over even the most stoic of people when they spoke of love. “In the end I decided it was never Warden Blackwall I had loved, it was Thom all along. And now that I knew him I felt I could start over with him.”

The conversation lulled, allowing Solas to turn over her answer in his head. Her logic was loose, felt rather than reasoned, but that was the nature of love.

“I see.”

She quirked a brow. “Do you? Because Cadri doesn’t.”

“Your cousin has a longer memory than most,” he noted, the surge of fondness he felt at the sound of the other Cadash’s name stymied by the reminder of his deception. Onee day that ire would be aimed at him, and not without cause. “If I were in your place I could not say I would do the same. Say I decided, as you did, that I loved them, no longer trusted them, what then? What is love worth without trust?”

“No much, I’ll admit. But it’s a second chance, that’s it. I asked for us to start over, not for his hand in marriage. Maybe down the road I’ll figure out you’re right, and my faith in him will never heal, but maybe it will. Just needs time.” Thora tapped her boot against the balcony, mind still racing behind her dark eyes. “I mean, we asked Cole to forgive the man who killed him. I think I can ask myself to forgive, too.”

“Cole is a spirit.”

“Then maybe we have more in common than most people think.” Her response was so quick that it must have been second nature.

“Maybe so.” He smiled proudly to himself, remembering a time when she had not known spirits beyond stories. “Thank you for indulging me, Thora. I know my question was not an easy one.”

“It’s alright, it was nice talking about it to someone who will just... listen.” She didn’t elaborate, but he could imagine the plethora of opinions she had heard since Thom had returned to Skyhold. Advice was nothing new for the Inquisitor, but for something so personal... it made him momentarily grateful for the invisibility his ears granted him.

“For what it is worth, I admire your decision.” His gaze returned to down below, where he was unsurprised to find Ian had not moved. Presumably he had fallen asleep, nose twitching as a beetle crawled across his cheek. The image would ordinarily be calming, but that afternoon his thoughts were crowded with reflections on the past, and commitments of the future. “There comes a point in any relationship where the heady feeling of new loves ebbs, and from there a choice must be made: to love, or drift apart.”

His thoughts were as much for him as they were for her, given voice so they felt tangible in a world where words too often fell flat. Solas paused to consider where he was going before he continued, “I believe for you that choice has already passed. For your sake, I hope you do not come to regret your choice, and that he makes you happy in the coming days. I have scarcely spoken to Rainier since he... returned to the Inquisiton’s folds, and thought my doubts are many I am certain he must feel lucky to have your love, of which anyone ought to feel grateful to know.”

Thora laughed without shame, leaning over to check him in the hip with her shoulder. “Thanks Solas, the same goes for you.” From the corner of his vision he could see her following his gaze, smiling when she caught what he was still looking at. Down below, Ian turned. “When that time comes for you and Ian, I hope you’ll know what to do.”

Solas’s deception ran deeper than Thom’s, bringing into question the nature of the stories Ian loved to tell. It was irrational to even imagine telling Ian, just as it was irrational of Thora to forgive her love, but it was no more rational to keep the charade alive. He knew where he stood, and the trust he felt, it was only right that Ian got that same chance to decide for himself with eyes unclouded.

The wind blew, and his wolf’s jaw beat against his chest once more before he reached up to grasp it firmly in hand.

“I believe that time has already come.”

#v; once more unto the breach #we all deserve a second chance ( solas )#my writing #[ this is written from solas's POV but it's going here b/c im not technically back yet ]#[ also this is the first thing i've written in like 7 months so if it's rusty that's why ]#[ *don't reblog - not yet anyway ]

8 notes · View notes

bloodxredxwolf · 7 years ago

Text

The Fall of The Wolf chapter 2

Thunder rolled as lightning flashed across the sky. Rain fell, gently tapping against the windows of the Viscount’s office. Marian leaned against the side, her arm across her forehead, hand hanging limp before the glass. She stared into the empty streets of Hightown, her eyes red and slightly puffy. “I should have known. I should have sent for Merrill from the start.” “You can’t blame yourself. There was no way to know that she was going to kill her. Justice and I both lost track of her. She is no ordinary mage, Merrill never stood a chance,” Anders replied as he walked behind her and gently hugged her waist. “She didn’t deserve to die, not like that.” She sniffed, fighting back tears. “And those marks in her neck? What could have done that? What kind of monster is she?” Anders turned Marian and held her to his chest. “We will find out what happened. I promise.” Before she could respond, there was a knock on the door and a messenger walked in. “I’ve a letter for you, messere. From Varric.” Marian pulled away from Anders and wiped her face, composing herself as she walked to the courier. “From Varric? How did he know I was back in Kirkwall?” The messenger bowed and backed out of the room, closing the doors with him. Hawke opened the letter and read it in silence. As she finished it, her hands began to tremble. She paused before screaming and punching the wall beside her. Her emotions no longer contained, tears of rage, guilt, and pure helplessness ran down her face.She paused to wipe her eyes before she swung at the stone wall again, shaking her bloodied knuckles afterwards. She glanced at Anders who took her hand in his as a blue aura appeared in his palms. “I am supposed to be the Champion, a hero, and I just keep letting people die.” “What did Varric say?” “I have to go to a place called Skyhold. I failed again, Anders, Corypheus is alive. That bastard is alive, after everything I did to stop him! I have to go, I can’t let anyone else suffer because I wasn’t strong enough.” ************************************* Black heels clicked against the stone path. A thin layer of fog covered the ground, the air above completely still. Ana walked slowly around, looking at her surroundings as she explored the Crossroads. “It has been so long.” she whispered to herself. She saw to her right another Eluvian, black and twisted. She heard echoes of screams “Tamlen! Watch out!” She saw old ruins in the Brecilian Forest, a young elf’s reflection torn and perverted in the broken glass. She continued walking, incoherent whispers echoing all around her. She approached a large Eluvian, what seemed to be in the center, framed in gold and beautifully elaborate. On the other side was a large pool in an ancient ruin. Ana ran her hands along the edges as she circled it. A small voice echoed from the other side. “Hello? Who are you?” Ana turned to see a young boy, tall and thin, hair black but not like hers. He could have been no older than 12 years old but the magic she sensed was powerful. Ana smirked. “My name is Ana. Who might you be?” “My name is Kieran,” the boy replied warmly. “Are you lost? I don’t remember ever seeing you here before.” Surprised at how little he feared both her and the Crossroads, she took a moment to respond. “I wouldn’t say ‘lost’. More...looking for the right door. You see, you can’t use one of these-” “-without a key!” Kieran said excitedly. “My mum taught me all about Eluvians. Although she would be pretty upset with me if she knew I was here.” Ana tilted her head as she took a step toward the boy. “Your mother doesn’t know you’re here? But you can use her Eluvian?” He nodded. “Yes, sometimes I hear whispers in my sleep and they tell me to come here. Mother calls it the ‘Crossroads’, but you’re the first person I have ever met here.” “And where does your mother’s Eluvian lead?” “Oh, the royal court of Orlais!” An intrigued gleam danced in Ana’s eyes as she knelt in front of Kieran. “Well, Kieran, since my Eluvian broke when I came here, I have nowhere to go.” She gently grabbed his hand, “You think you could take me through your mother’s?” Kieran thought for a moment. “Well, you’re not a demon, so I don’t know why Mother would mind. It’s this way.” Ana smiled as the child led her to the Eluvian on the far side the Crossroads. He held his hand up and the glass began to glow and ripple as if it had become liquid. Holding her hand, he stepped through, pulling Ana in with him. As they appeared on the other side, Ana was surprised to emerge in a dimly lit room in what felt like the bowels of the castle. It was dark and somewhat damp, clearly a room not often visited. She looked around as Kieran grabbed a torch. They appeared to be in some sort of small library, books and statues lined the wall. Upon closer inspection the books were all about magic or elven mythology. Before she could investigate further, a voice echoed from the top of the stairs across the room. “Kieran? Are you down there?” Finally getting his torch to light, Kieran turned and answered, “Yes, Mother! We’re down here!” Rushed footsteps echoed down the staircase as a woman appeared in the room. She was dressed in an elegant deep purple gown, her black hair tied up with bangs hanging in her eyes. Her auburn, almost golden eyes pierced the darkness as she glared at Kieran. “We? Have you been entering the Crossroads again?!” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Mother. The voices called to me again. It’s a good thing, though, if I hadn’t, Ana would still be trapped there.” “Ana?” the woman whispered as she looked at the empty corner Kieran was pointing to. “Kieran, what have I told you about naming spirits?” Confused, Kieran looked at the bookshelf Ana had been next to before spinning around, looking about the room. “She was right here. She was an elf, not a spirit, Mother. How could she have vanished?” Grabbing his hand, the woman began to drag him upstairs. “I have had enough of your games. Return to your studies immediately and do not leave until I come for you.” The boy hung his head but went up the stairs as he was told. Waiting until the door in the room upstairs opened and closed before speaking, the woman turned to the shadows. “Well, well...what have we here? An elf with powerful magic, it would seem.” Ana stepped from behind the Eluvian, allowing the torch light to illuminate part of her face. “Such a young, trusting lad you have. I admire that he has not been possessed yet, as trusting as he is of strange creatures in even stranger places.” “Who are you? Why have you come?” For the first time, Ana removed her hood and coat. Her hair fell around her bare shoulders,her collar halfway up her neck, clinging tightly to her body as it widened to cover her breasts. Her top stopped just short of her midriff, the vines of Vallaslin accentuating her delicate curves. Her trousers fit snugly, her boots going to halfway up her thighs. Her arms were bare, the intricate red lines the only thing to draw the eye. “You may call me Ana. And don’t worry, I won’t harm your boy. Consider me just passing through.” The woman hesitated, “There is an old magic about you. Her Highness will not like a stranger appearing in her court out of my Eluvian. If you leave quickly, I will remain silent to your presence.” Ana chuckled. “I will be gone before night’s end.” Both women paused as the door in the room above opened, a male voice echoing off the stone walls. “My Lady, Morrigan, Her Majesty requests your presence in the study.” Morrigan bowed her head. “It seems I must take my leave. Do not worry, I get a sense that we shall meet again.” As Morrigan turned to walk up the stairs, a gust of wind blew past her. She turned and Ana was gone. She chuckled to herself. “Old magic indeed.” ****************************************************************************************************** Ana stood on the rooftop of the castle. The sun was setting and there were only minutes of daylight left. She watched as the guards circled the courtyard, the gardens, the stables. She observed the two guards closest to main gate turned and walked away from each other, each patrolling their area of the grounds. She waited for her opportunity before she nimbly swung from the rooftop, to the balcony, to the window, then the ground. She clung to the shadows in the shrubbery as the guard walked past her. Not wasting time, she ran for the stables. As she walked through the door, several of the horses became uneasy in their stalls. One horse, the stallion closest to her, remained calm as his black eyes lay upon her. She met his gaze and placed a hand on his muzzle, “You don’t fear me, do you, boy? You want to go on an adventure?” The horse snorted and threw his head down before stamping his foot. Ana grinned as she opened the stall door and ran her hand along the strong neck of the imperial steed. While the other animals seemed to keep their distance from her, this steed seemed to accept her. He was not afraid or anxious in her presence, he trusted her explicitly. As Ana examined the animal a small door inside the barn opened and a young man stepped out. “Hey! You can’t be in there! Who are you?” Ana shut her eyes and pursed her lips in frustration. She stepped out of the stall, hands in the air as she approached the stable hand. “I was simply admiring these magnificent animals. Was even thinking of borrowing one for my long journey ahead. “Y-you can’t just take Her Majesty’s horses, I’m calling the guards!” Ana lunged, grabbing him by the throat. Her pupils dilated as she looked him in the eyes. “You will remain silent as you saddle that stallion. When you are done, you will return to me.” The young stable hand became dazed as he walked back into the room and emerged with a saddle and bridle in hand. He silently, quickly saddled the stallion and led him out of his stall and to Ana. She smiled as she stroked the boy’s hair. “Good lad. Now, since I don’t know exactly where I’m going, I should probably get a full meal in before I leave.” In the same breath, fangs grew from her mouth as her eyes turned black, Her Vallaslin began to glow red as she sank her teeth into his neck. Blood spattered the wall beside them as the boy gurgled and twitched, the life quickly leaving his eyes. Blood poured from his neck and ran down hers as she gorged herself on her meal. It was only a few moments before she had finished. When she was sated, she stood and sat his body against the stall. She wiped her face with his shirt before patting his chest and mounting her steed. She had no idea where her destination was, but she knew she needed to head east. She nudged her steed forward, the side gate left open from where the stable hand had not yet locked it. Luckily, the barn was outside the main courtyard and only a small servant’s entrance stood between Ana and the open road. With a wave of her hand, the gates opened and she spurred the stallion forward, into the night.

#Fanfic #fanfiction #dragon age #fenris #fenris romance #solas #solas x lavellen #vampire #dragon age inquisition #female hawke #dorian #Zevran

2 notes · View notes