#I love Solas so much but I HAVE to make him sad every once in awhile

[fenharel-babe]

Working on another solavellan fic, BUT this one will be only one chapter and possibly pretty long soooo…I’m excited lol.

[liaragaming]

A Reunion

Solas & Lavellen reunite in Veilguard - because I have feels god dammit and they need to be written out.

Angst.

Rating: Teen & Up.

When they tell her they've found him and he wants to talk, she almost doesn't go. He has no idea the hell she's been through - how many years she's hoped, and searched, and waited, only to come up with nothing time and time again.

She'd seen him in dreams so often, never knowing if it was really him or just her imagination. He doesn't know how she'd wake in tears, wishing she could go to him. How she'd grown to resent those dreams and the pain they put her through. Until one dream when she screamed all of her rage at him and told him she never wanted to see his face again. He'd vanished to mist like always, but she never had those dreams again. He doesn't know how much she'd hated herself for losing her only connection to him.

She's tried to move on, like all her friends had told her to. And sometimes she thought she’d succeeded - only to have some seemingly insignificant detail send her spiraling. He'd poisoned every potential new love that might have turned into something if only she could have stopped seeing him in their kind eyes and gentle caresses.

She was tired of hurting. What was the point of longing and striving for someone who wasn't doing the same for you?

She doesn't want to see him again and listen to whatever rehearsed apology - or gods know whatever he actually wants to see her for.

But she has to, she realizes. Ten years and the wound never seemed to fade. If she wants to heal... what choice does she have?

So she goes... and seeing him again is like being trampled by a bronto.

Everything they'd had. Everything they'd shared. Every dream, every kiss, every hope and touch and gentle whisper... All of it comes back to her all at once, and she gasps under the weight of it.

He looks at her with his sad eyes, dejected and regretful. She's seen that look dozens of times, and it no longer makes her want to hold him. Instead, it makes her blood boil.

She wants to smack it off his face.

"Vhenan."

The word rattles her, rippling through her like an electric shock. How dare he. How dare he use that word like they were still lovers - like what had been between them hadn't burned and died by his own arrogance.

"Don't," she says.

He flinches like he hadn't expected the venom in her voice.

"You don't get to call me that."

He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and nods. "My apologies, Inquisitor."

How can he act so calm? How can he stand there and act like seeing her again is nothing when her insides are tearing themselves apart?

Rook speaks. She'd forgotten they were still here. "I'll give you two a moment."

They leave, and Lavellen nearly goes after them. She doesn't need this. She's felt this pain over and over again. Why does she keep subjecting herself to it?

But she remembers she has to. She came here for closure, and she won't get it by walking away. "Just say whatever you brought me here to say."

He opens his mouth to speak but no words come. She watches as every intention dies from his eyes.

There are no words, she realizes. There is nothing he can say to ease the pain she's in, let alone all she's suffered. He called her here, but anything he might say or do would fall hopelessly short. He has nothing for her. Just the two of them, staring at each other in this room with everything hanging between them.

She turns her face away, fighting back the tears threatening to overwhelm her. "You're such a fucking asshole."

His lips part, perhaps to offer some defense or apology. But he falters again.

She turns to him, hot tears burning her eyes. "How could you? How could you?"

Even she isn't sure what she's asking. She could be demanding anything and everything. And she probably is.

He stares at her with those sad eyes. She hates that he won't react. That even in this, he has nothing to give her.

She strides toward him and hits her first against his shoulder. "You're such - an asshole - you - you!"

She hits him again and again, tears falling from her eyes. "How could you? How could you do this?"

At last, his hands take her wrists. She struggles until the tears overwhelm her, and she breaks into sobs. She falls to her knees, and he falls with her.

Moisture falls into her hair. "I'm sorry," he says. His voice is watery. "I'm so sorry."

She clings to him, grasping at him like maybe the pain will die if she just holds tight enough. He does the same, his sobs shaking her as much as her own.

She doesn't know how long they hold each other, their tears mingling on their skin. But for the first time in forever, she begins to feel like she hasn't carried all this pain alone.

[philliamwrites]

Is there a reason why you named your book "Stay Where You Are And Then Leave"? Or why this name? ily~♡♡

i didn't know i needed this ask until someone asked me. i love you to the moon and back, nonny, allow me to kiss your beautiful face, your beautiful hands, your beautiful heart. i sort of lost my love for this, but talking about it reminded me why i need to tell this story so so badly ❤️

LONG POST INCOMING I'M SO SORRY. but yeah, i really needed to do this, and i thank every single one of you who's still here, who's still supporting it even though uploads are scarce and the last chapters might not have been blasting as much as the first ones.

I love every single one of you ❤️❤️

So, the easy answer is this: It is the same title as John Boyne's book "Stay Where You Are And Then Leave." John Boyne is my all time favourite contemporary author.

It's set during the First World War. Alfie Summerfield tries to remember how life had been before the war began, before his father had left to join the fight. When Alfie gives up hope to see him ever again, he learns by chance that his father is in a hospital close by—a hospital treating soldiers with shell shock (though Alfie doesn't know what that is), and he resolves to rescue his father and bring him back home. (I think it's fantastic to tell the story from a child's POV because just like there is no sense in war, Alfie doesn't get why his Dad can't come back; why he behaves so differently once they reunite. Boyne did the same in The Boy With The Striped Pjyamas, and the effect is even graver due to the ghastly events).

This is the scene that has stuck with me ever since, the one where the title drops:

The scene speaks for itself; the phrase is linked to trauma.

But how does this apply to my story?

"Stay where you are and then leave," I can hardly describe what it makes me feel, other than devastatingly sad? I think it comes down to inevitability. The inevitability of something tragic happening.

Time to get out your headphones. Hans Christian Andersen said "Where words fail, music speaks." My top three go to pieces that capture this feeling are Trespasser - Dark Solas Theme, Fleeting Words - Outsider (both are so Emil), Fleeting Dream/Someday the Dream Will End (this is very Reader), and of course AoT S4's Ashes on Fire (which screams Eren, who else). They all capture this "I'm facing the inevitable end, there is no turning back." I'm a sucker for these, I'm also a sucker for—that's no secret—The Amazing Devil, and Elsa's Song is Reader and Emil, this is NOT A DRILL, it had me shaking in my boots the first time I heard it.

We still don't know the context of this phrase in my story; and it will change gradually the more we learn about Emil. Reader says it for the first time in Chapter 2, but can't remember where she heard it:

The Titans won’t find you if you hide, if you don’t make a noise, if you don’t breathe. Stay where you are, don’t move an inch—who told you that?

In Chapter 7 we learn that it was Emil, but we don't know what the phrase means to him:

“Stay where you are,” the boy said. It sounded as if he was standing right next to you, whispering into your ear. You shuddered. “And then leave.”

Still, you can apply the phrase to both our main male leads (I guess this is where it ties together with AoT for me):

In Emil's case, all I can say without spoiling is that he wants to stay, but he has to leave to get his happy ending, and it unravels and guts him.

In Eren's case, he can't stay, he has to leave to get his happy ending, and he doesn't look back.

And Reader can't hold onto them, no matter what she does.

So much about this phrase and story is about the inevitability of losing those we love, losing ourselves; lose, lose, lose in this cruel world, but also love love love, love above all things.

"Stay where you are and then leave" leaves me as gutted as "I love him, and maybe it doesn't change anything. But it matters." (a quote from Reader in a future chapter that's still far off, but it's there and it matters to me.)

I guess I could have answered with a single sentence: I just really like the phrase, and it makes me emotional. But explaining it has brought back so many important emotions, especially from the time I first sat down and brainstormed/plotted this story, and I'm verry happy some of that love has returned.

[mw567152]

My very legit ranking of every Dragon Age Romance

17. Solas -romanced him once and I couldn’t even finish it

16. Iron Bull -crucify me, I don’t like him

15. Isabella -controversial I know, I like her as a character but her romance feels lacking

14. Sebastian -he would be at the bottom if I didn’t find him so damn attractive

13. Sera -conflicted because I do enjoy it but her attitude towards elves puts me off

12. Morrigan -I have romanced her twice and one time I ended it bc I thought she ended it 🤷🏻‍♂️

11.Blackwall -I wish he was a male romance option also

10.Cullen -only dated him once, loved it, never did it again because I wanted to date him as a man

9.Alistair -I wish I didn’t make him king because he made my dwarf lady sad

8.Merrill -I love her, but the blood mage thing is a no for me

7.Cassandra -she is my dads favorite so she can be here

6.Leliana -such a sweetheart in origins, too much effort to make her not hardened

5.Anders -didn’t like him very much until recently, now I adore him

4.Josephine -LOVE HER AHH, she’s just adorable

3.Zevran -I romance him almost every time I play, I love him and I would do anything for him

2.Fenris -gosh I love him, I would die for him and his romance is just amazing

And finally, we all saw this coming

1.Dorian -I actually never stop talking about how amazing he is, I just think he is amazing and perfect.

[crackinglamb]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @noire-pandora, thank you! 🥰

Tagging @ranaspkillnarieth, @rosebud1773, @serial-chillr, @mogwaei, @ir0n-angel, @rosella-writes, @doomhippy83, @pikapeppa and @about2dance. No pressure!

I just finished writing Lark and Co. in Crestwood. I love this questline and map. There are so many layers to it. Like, c'mon, you literally open a dam to unveil a village destroyed by Blight and one man's decision for the greater good (or his own neck, take your pick). *gets hit with a microcosm of Dread Wolf symbolism like a brick to the small of the back*

Ahem...right...moving on. Have some Lark and Iron Bull.

---

She drew on her pipe and found the bowl empty. Enough heat remained from the last ember to taste scorched. With a muttered curse and twisted expression, she set about clearing it out. The rain had stopped for now, and in the light of the moons the village appeared merely sleeping rather than destroyed. Every now and then the glow of a spirit showed between the waterlogged and decaying beams of the houses, but otherwise it was still and dark.

Well, save the rift, glowing up through fissures in the ground. Without the water to amplify its light, it was more diffuse and pale, but it couldn't be ignored. In the morning, she and her team would venture under the village to the caves and hopefully seal it.

A large shadow fell over her and she glanced up to see the Iron Bull come to stand next to her. From her angle she couldn't see his good eye, but his expression was grave as he stared out across the ruined village.

“It was a tough choice to make,” he murmured. “Flooding the place.”

“It was both cowardly and tactical,” she replied. She laid her pouch of pipe leaves on the low stone of the railing and finished scraping her bowl clean. She selected a sweet blend to pack and for a while there was only the sound of tamping between them. He offered her a sulfur match from somewhere and she was reminded for an instant of the day in the Hinterlands when Solas had lit her pipe from his finger. It was almost sad to reflect on the simplicity of those days compared to now. She looked back out at the view while she lit the bowl, a frown creasing her brow. “It was no different than Orzammar cutting itself off from the rest during the fall of our empire. It saved lives at the cost of others.”

“That's the nature of war.”

A hint of summer cherries coated her tongue as she let the smoke wreathe around her head as she cocked it at him. She took in his bleak look and clenched jaw. “The Blight is worse than war. It's the ceaseless battle against an entropy that can think. You've never had to face it, have you? Your people have never been overrun by it.”

“I was in Orlais ten years ago. I heard tales.”

“Not the same,” she scoffed. “For us, dwarva, I mean, it never ends. It is a part of my makeup just as much as my name. Darkspawn are kith and kin.” He looked down at her then, his eye wide and questioning. She offered him a bitter smile. “The majority of the hoards that rise are made up of genlocks. There were once many thaigs spanning the Deep Roads, great and small. My own clan's included. Now there are two.”

She let the statement stand without further explanation. She knew he could do the math himself; he was an intelligent man behind his cavalier attitude and soft belly. She'd watched him fight. She knew what strength lay beneath the surface. On many levels.

She finished her pipe and emptied it against her palm with hollow sounding slaps. When she looked back into camp, she found Solas's eyes on her, gleaming in the dark like a cat's. She didn't linger on him and instead put away all her things, drawing their pouch closed tight. “Get some rest, Bull. You'll need it.”

[ellana-lavellan-rp]

IRREVERSIBLE ; .

(( for @dreadwxlf. ty for being so patient with me!

ellana's outfit is here.

the waltz music i'm imagining is here and also here.

here's to solavellan happiness at last!!!

also tw: mention of attempted suicide via drowning ))

-x-

irreversible [ ir-i-vur-suh-buhl ]: adjective not reversible; incapable of being changed.

-x-

Things began to get better for Ellana after the time Fen'harel had snuck into her dream - over time (decades, it would turn out to be), and with distance, her heart started to mend anew. It was precipitated by one of the greatest mistakes she had made to date (and she can still feel the water in her lungs if she thinks about it too much), but her remaining friends and family had seen her through it. It was difficult at first, to put down the trinkets that had so defined the legacy of her friends, but she had had to do it for her own sake.

She couldn't keep holding onto a world long dead, it would destroy her too; and in fact, it almost had.

-x-

(the water is cold, and she is so, so tired - she cannot bear being here even a moment longer -

wading, and then diving -

and she wills with every inch of her deadened heart:

drag me down -

and the water obeys)

-x-

Dorian's message crystal had been the last item she had put away, deep into one of her drawers, and she had wept the entire time (almost unable to put it away at all). But with that weeping came a certain kind of healing, a realization; she would never forget them, but they were gone. They wouldn't have wanted her to waste away like she had been doing - a slower, more painful death than even drowning.

They would have wanted better for her.

And so she regrew her arm, regrew her hair, removed her piercing (which she had hated even though it was in remembrance of thom), and started to eat again. It wasn't overnight, and she still had bad days along the way, but she slowly began to regain the strength that she had lost.

Ellana took up more of the clan leadership duties, helping Deshanna and even Fenris, who had taken it upon himself to assist in her absence. Which she was silently grateful for, even as she buried it with her other guilt - she shouldn't have been so weak, she should've been stronger - but what was done was done.

What's done is done... but we have eternity now..

there will always be a place for you... His words never stopped haunting her either - nor the memory of his wounded face after the destruction of the dream. He hadn't come back since... he had probably already moved on from her.

The thought shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

In her darkest hours, when she was laying in bed alone, Ellana could admit now that she still loved Solas; she probably always would. But how could she ever trust him again, even if they did somehow reunite?

It was probably better this way, even though it didn't make it hurt any less.

She was adamant about not stepping a toe into Arlathan, however, and she kept that promise for years, until one day her parents had needed her to go in their place for one of the clan's trading days.

-x-

"Just this once, da'lath'in."

Her mother had said, and Ellana was helpless to deny her anything.

-x-

Somehow that one incident had turned into regular visits (only to the marketplace, she never wandered beyond it, and it seemed that Solas never visited, at least on the days her clan was there), and Ellana slowly began to get comfortable there as well.

It was indescribable - the beauty of the crystal through the clouds, the finery of the clothes the people wore - the feel of magic everywhere and spirits aplenty; and a sad, sad part of her could see why Solas had wanted it back so badly. None of it had been worth their friends lives though, but even the pain behind that thought lessened as time wore on.

Before she knew it, decades had passed, and the annual celebration of the rebirth of Arlathan was upon them. She had stayed far away by that point, but a curious part of her wondered what the celebration was like. Was it like Orlais; where the game had been rampant? Or was it like the Dalish, whose parties had been the talk amongst humans for ages for their rambunctiousness?

Did they honor the fallen? Or was it held as a glorious victory, regardless of its victims?

She tried not to think about it too much, but as the evening fell upon them once more, her mother had pulled her aside.

-x-

"Why don't you go tonight, da'lath'in? You've had this longing look on your face all day."

"You know why, mamae.. I can't... I can't face him."

Her mother's warm brown eyes soften, and she pulls Ellana close. "Yes you can, and I know you want to. You can lie to the others, da'len, but you cannot lie to me. Enough time has passed, why not show him what he's missing?"

Ellana sighs, hugging the older woman tightly, "He's probably already with someone else. You know how the women talk of him."

She chuckles, eyes sparkling with mirth, "I have it on good authority that he isn't."

Blue eyes narrow and she looks up at her mother in shock, "Who..."

"Never you mind. Go get changed, I've left your outfit in your hut. A friend of mine told me that it was quite the outfit back in the ancient days. Perfect for Fen'harel, wouldn't you say?"

"Mamae!!!"

Her mother laughs, "I just want you happy, my darling. And you're not happy here, not fully, at least."

-x-

It was true, but that didn't mean that Ellana was fully ready to admit it.

She had gotten changed after all; the strange white material flowing like silk around her, the golden cuffs an odd weight around her wrists and neck. The golden circlet at the bottom of her hair (which was pulled back), wrapping around her ears, was probably the oddest piece - it felt like something nobility would wear, but she was hardly that.

Not for the first time, she wondered who her mother's friend was, and why they would even deem it necessary to help her with Solas.

It made her off-kilter... a feeling only amplified when she found herself back in Arlathan once more - more people than she had ever seen before, reveling in a grand ball, of all things. A palace, with rooms of gold and white, and crystal everywhere - a sight that truly took her breath away.

It was beautiful, and nothing like she had ever seen before.

At least no one was paying her much attention, their focus on the main ballroom and the dancers within it, she mused as she grabbed a glass of wine from one of the floating trays, testing its sweetness.

Divine, and Ellana just about rolled her eyes - everything here was perfect, almost too much so - but her thoughts grinded to a halt when she caught sight of just who the dancers on the floor were.

It was... him. And another woman, which made her fingers tighten on the stem of the glass, even as her mind raced -

Mamae was wrong, I knew -

But just as her thought had formed, Solas had quickly moved onto another partner, disengaging the previous with what looked like politeness (her heart pounded with relief). It continued that way throughout the night, partner after partner, her blue eyes never leaving him (blending in with the crowd), even as he managed to somehow slip away.

He was beautiful, her vhenan.

Adorned in a black outfit, more than complimenting her own stark white - the same type of golden cuffs around his wrists and neck.

Like they belonged together. Like they were meant to be.

The thought took her breath away.

I never... stopped loving him. Not really.

Her feet moved of their own volition, dodging the crowd, her entire focus shifting to the man in front of her (who seemed to be willing those around not to notice his departure, but he could never escape her, not with a will as stubborn as his own).

She followed him to the courtyard, and watched as he exhaled a breath.

Ellana could barely think with the ringing in her ears, her heart viscerally pounding in her chest, he was here and he was so close -

She stepped closer, and closer, and finally, finally was able to speak, "Solas."

Her voice was light in the midst of all the celebration, and she suddenly didn't know what to say. "... I.. how.. have you been?"

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 6

Hope you guys all enjoyed my (almost) cliffhanger last week! This chapter is the longest so far, and I worked very hard on it, so if you get whumperflies please let me know!!! <3

Next chapter might take a bit longer what with uni starting again soon but I will do my best to keep it to once a fortnight at the LATEST. so we’ll see!

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk (aka my loves. if you want to be tagged just ask!)

CW: pet whumpee, aftermath of torture, creepy whumper, general violence, panic attacks

-

The door handle turned. Rowe whimpered. He wished it would just fly open, slam against the wall, hurry it up. He’d been curled up in his room ever since Master Tomas had casually mentioned that he was going grocery shopping, and Kasia would be coming over to get some work done. Rowe had felt the blood drain from his face, not him not him not him, I want to be good, I’ve tried so hard to be good for you Master-

“I’ve had a really stressful day at work,” Kasia said as he stepped into the room, in a low voice that made Rowe go cold. “Stand up.”

Rowe didn’t hesitate. “Take your shirt off.” He complied. “Arms behind your back.” He did as he was told.

“Wow, you really are pathetic, you know that?” said Kasia. “And I deal with a lot of Pets.”

Kasia took a few more steps towards Rowe until he could smell the cigarettes on his breath. He took Rowe’s face roughly and stared at him. A calloused thumb ran over his lips, making the hair on the back of Rowe’s neck stand up, and still Kasia just stared. Rowe kept his eyes on the ground, trembling.

“You’re so…,” Kasia laughed, “I can’t believe I gave my mate such an ugly Pet. And he hasn’t even hit you, has he? You must think you can just relax and walk all over him.”

Rowe shook his head, minutely but firmly, blinking away tears. No, no, I won’t relax, I won’t get comfortable. I’m just a Pet, I got tossed out, I’m worthless. Serving my Master is a privilege. I won’t forget.

Rowe was grateful for the discipline. He could get so caught up in why Master Tomas wanted him to do something, when really his place was as an obedient Pet. Not questioning, just accepting. He needed this reminder.

“Even looking at you annoys me. You don’t deserve an owner like Tomas.”

And then the first punch came, hard, sudden, into the side of his ribcage, and Rowe’s vision blinkered as he buckled and fell to the ground.

“Seriously? You’re on the floor after one punch? I thought I could have some fun beating you down.”

Rowe’s arms shook as he tried to push himself back up, his chest throbbing with every shallow breath. Kasia stamped a boot onto his back and he thumped against the ground, gasping as Kasia pressed harder and harder until Rowe was squirming, trying desperately to make his limbs work again, but the thought of being disobedient was enough to make his body limp. He could feel the barely-healed wounds on his back opening up. It was like being whipped all over again. The weight momentarily lifted from his back, only to come down far harder. Rowe’s jaw clacked sickeningly against the floor and he bit his tongue, hard. Pain exploded in his mouth. He moaned weakly and Kasia delivered a savage kick to his ribs, in the same place he’d just been punched.

“How’s your nose, Pet?” Kasia said roughly, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back until Rowe’s eyes met his. “Healed any?”

“I-it’s, agh, p-please, I d-don’t know-”

Kasia lifted Rowe’s head higher, and he suddenly realised with a rush of nausea what was coming. Fear overtook him as he cried out.

“N-no, no, please- don’t! No!”

It felt like a twisted version of déjà vu as Kasia crushed Rowe’s face into the floor, making him howl in pain. His nose was making horrifying crunching noises. Rowe cried desperately, hitting his fists off the floor to force himself not to grapple Kasia’s arm, not to do anything that might anger him further.

All of Master Tomas’s kindness, the ice pack and the painkillers and the gentle towel cleaning blood off his face, all of it was undone in a few seconds. Rowe wept harder at the thought of it. Master had wasted so much on him.

Kasia eventually let go and Rowe choked as he lifted his face, blood streaming into his mouth. The pain was so bad he could hardly think. He pushed himself up, turning to face Kasia and save his back any more pain.

“Please-” he sobbed, “please d-d-don’t-”

“Bit late for that,” laughed Kasia. “You’re fun to mess around with. I feel better already. But I can’t beat you too bad or Tomas will notice.”

“Wh-wh-what if h-he asks about my n-n-nose,” Rowe stammered out.

Kasia smiled at this and casually knelt down over Rowe, straddling him heavily. He grabbed his neck with one hand and pinned him down. With his other hand he slid a thumb over Rowe’s eye socket and held it there. No pressure, yet. Yet. Rowe forced himself to be still, and good, and take it.

“If you tell him,” began Kasia, digging his thumb in slightly. Blobs of grey fuzz appeared in Rowe’s vision. “I’ll not only make you regret the day you were born-” his thumb pushed in harder, “-I’ll also tell him you’re lying and he’ll throw you out-” and harder. Rowe started to whimper in fear, “-and then I’ll make you my Pet full-time. And I won’t hesitate to chop off and rearrange and reshape any part of you I dislike. Like your eyes, for instance. Or your tongue. Or your fingers. Do you understand?”

Rowe could barely breathe with Kasia’s full weight upon him. He couldn’t nod, couldn’t move his face at all while the thumb in Rowe’s eye made his entire head felt like it could burst with pain. He whined pathetically with his last bit of breath. Kasia looked at him solidly and for a second Rowe thought he really would gouge his eye out, but then Kasia took both his hands away and patted Rowe roughly on the cheek as he gasped.

“Good boy. So how did you get these injuries? You clumsy thing. You’ve busted your nose again and, well, you’re gonna have a bruise on your ribs.”

“I-I walked into a door, sir.”

“Yeah, you did. Now get up and clean the blood off your face.”

. . .

Tomas bustled through the front door and nudged it closed with his hip, his hands full of shopping bags. ‘’Kas? You’ve not burnt the place down then?’’

‘’Not for lack of trying,’’ came the reply as Kasia walked over and took a few of the bags. ‘’Let me get some of those. You feeding the five hundred?’’

Tomas smiled sheepishly. ‘’There’s a lot of food I don’t think Rowe’s tried yet… have you seen him at all?’’

‘’Nope. Heard him pattering around upstairs, though. Slammed the door pretty hard at one point. I didn’t go up to check on him, I hope you understand. I just figured, if he’s that nervous around you…’’

‘’Yes, yes, of course. Don’t worry.’’

‘’Well, I’d best be on my way. You know, your house is wonderfully quiet. Don’t hesitate if you need me to watch it again, please. I could get so much more work done in a calm place like this.’’

‘’Thank you so much, mate. I’ll let you know, yeah,’’ Tomas said warmly as Kasia grabbed his jacket and headed off.

He had barely closed the door when he heard light footsteps coming down the stairs. Tomas turned to see Rowe kneeling before him in his usual position, with his forehead to the floor. He still found it unnerving, seeing this frail man, covered in scars and bruises, submitting before him. ‘’Welcome back, Master Tomas.’’

‘’Hey, Rowe,’’ Tomas said, crouching slowly and reaching out a hand to the back of Rowe’s head, watching for a reaction. Rowe didn’t flinch, or stiffen- in fact, he leaned into the touch. Tomas ruffled his hair gently. Before he could invite Rowe back up, he spoke again.

‘’Master, please allow me to handle the cooking tonight, a-and any other chores you need me for.’’

‘’Oh, o-okay,’’ said Tomas. ‘’Um, well you can certainly join me in the cooking. I don’t want you to have to do it all yourself. And here, let me help you up.’’

Rowe began to unfold himself and Tomas held out a hand. After a moment of hesitation, he slipped his fingers between Tomas’s and let him take some of his weight as he stood. Tomas frowned in pity as he saw Rowe’s face- a neat bandage lay across his nose. Small bruises had formed under each eye- which was something a broken nose could cause, according to the internet. They looked deathly against his pallid skin. Rowe saw him frowning and Tomas felt the hand he was holding go stiff.

‘’P-please, Master, let me cook for you. I-It’s the least I c-can do.’’

He looked so… terribly sad. ‘’You can help, Rowe. Um- Kasia said he heard something slamming upstairs? Did you do something to your nose?’’

‘’I- I walked into a door, Master. I was foolish and careless and s-stupid. Please- please punish me for my ugliness.’’

‘’Aw, Rowe,’’ Tomas murmured involuntarily. ‘’You don’t look ugly. I wouldn’t hurt you over something like- I wouldn’t, I mean, I wouldn’t hurt you at all. I’m not going to punish you. Have you been worrying about that?’’

Rowe’s eyes dropped and he slowly nodded.

‘’Thank you for telling the truth. I don’t think you’re ugly at all.’’ It seemed to be something that was concerning him, so Tomas added, ‘’If I do, I’ll tell you, okay?’’

Rowe’s shoulders loosened and looked up at Tomas again. ‘’Yes, Master. Thank you.’’

Crisis averted? Tomas thought. ‘’Okay, great. Let’s start chopping some veg.’’

. . .

Rowe sliced the knife down harder as he hands trembled. He was doing his best, he really was, he was trying to just be fucking useful for once, but he was so on edge with Master Tomas so near to him. Rowe was constantly checking over his shoulder, so he could be ready for the first slap or punch. The knife in his hand reminded him of the times he’d been made to bring his master the tool that would be used to punish him.

Rowe was holding a weapon. An instrument for causing pain. Once again he wished he could be normal, wished he could be a good, blank, Pet, instead of one that couldn’t even chop vegetables without thinking about all the ways the knife could cut and slice and open and chop off- chop off- like Kasia had said-

Rowe’s head spun. He felt sick. Kasia wasn’t here. It was only Master. He was the one Rowe should be worrying about. Master could do as he pleased, Rowe repeated to himself, over and over. If Master wants to use the knife on me, I’ll let him. Of course I’ll let him.

. . .

Tomas stirred the stock cube absent-mindedly, his back to Rowe. He had tried to put enough space between him and Rowe to, hopefully, make Rowe feel a little more at ease. He watched as the hot water swirled around his spoon. The sound of rhythmic chopping behind him told him that Rowe was working diligently.

. . .

The carrot seemed to bend and stretch before him as Rowe tried to gather his thoughts. He was okay, he was okay. He hadn’t angered Master, not yet. So far, he was mercifully being ignored. Rowe looked back down and held the knife firmly.

The little coins of carrot were mostly even. Rowe hoped that would be good enough.

. . .

Tomas gently scraped in the onions and garlic and let them simmer. He rolled up his sleeves as the kitchen warmed up.

. . .

The knife was so sharp. Rowe was staring at it as he worked, not even looking at the vegetables, just watching the blade, waiting for Master to turn around and yank it out of his hand and order Rowe to his knees. Why did Master keep saying he wouldn’t hurt him? Rowe wanted to believe it every time, and every time it took longer for him to snap out of it. He moved his fingers out of the way at the last second as he brought the knife down shakily.

. . .

Tomas turned around. ‘’Rowe-‘’ he began, taking a step towards him. Rowe jerked in surprise and spun to face him.

. . .

The knife was still in his hand. He’d been so startled by Master Tomas suddenly being right there behind him that he had gripped it harder reflexively as he turned. Rowe stared down in horror. A long, thin cut ran along Master’s exposed forearm, all the way to his hand. Tiny drops of blood were beginning to form.

And then Rowe’s mind went blank.

. . .

Tomas easily caught Rowe as he fainted. The knife bounced off the floor and Tomas kicked it out of the way. The cut was superficial, and sure it was a surprise, but it hardly hurt. Still, he knew enough to realise how grave this was. A Pet hurting their owner. His stomach twisted at the thought of the beating that would have earned Rowe in the past. No wonder he passed out.

He gently laid Rowe on the couch, grabbed some kitchen roll, and wrapped it around his arm. Perching on the armrest, Tomas let himself look at the man in his care.

He could see long scars along his thighs, like he’d be belted while kneeling. Deep red scrapes, cuts and sores ran around his wrists, the scars of old restraints. His chest was rising and falling evenly, and his face looked soft. Relaxed. Tomas watched his fingers flick minutely, his lips part as he breathed. He wasn’t screaming. He looked peaceful for the first time since Tomas had got him.

And then… Rowe stirred. A groan rumbled in his chest as he rolled his head, and Tomas quickly put a hand to Rowe’s cheek to stop him grinding his nose. This made Rowe’s eyes finally twitch open, little by little then all at once when he remembered what had happened and saw Tomas sitting over him. He cried out, he hands scrambling to find purchase as he pushed himself away, tumbling off the sofa and ramming his forehead against the floor so hard that Tomas heard the crack.

‘’Oh, God, please!’’ he cried, his voice cracking as sobs and gasps racked through him, ‘’P-please Master I’m so, s-s-so sorry, I’m so sorry, I w-w-would n-never, I, I mean, I d-don’t, I w-was trying so ha-ard to be good-‘’

‘’Rowe, it’s okay,’’ Tomas blurted out, raising his voice. He grabbed his shoulders and lifted his head up off the ground. Rowe’s eyes were bright with fear like Tomas had never seen before. It was so intense that he let go of his shoulders reflexively and Rowe shrank into himself, trembling before his owner.

‘’I swear, I s-swear I c-can be better, Master, I ca-an, please please don’t s-send me back, I-I’ll take any pun-nishment like- like a good Pet, I’ll be g-good-‘’

‘’Rowe-‘’

‘’I-It w-was an accident, please Master p-p-please believe me, I wo-would n-never do some-something like that, I’m begging you-‘’

‘’Rowe, I’m not going t-’’

‘’Please,’’ begged Rowe hoarsely, tears rolling down his cheeks, and something in his voice made Tomas stop and listen. ‘’Please, Master, please, I can’t- I don’t know why you want me to b-b-believe that you wo-won’t hurt me, but I can’t d-do it, I just wa-want to be good s-s-so bad and I ca-an’t, I k-keep messing up a-and you never hurt me and I j-just want to be good, I w-want to be good I don’t want to- to get thr-rown out and I need p-p-punishment, Master, please…’’ he gasped.

‘’I’m not….. you are being good. You’re being really good.’’ Tomas felt his heart breaking.

Rowe’s sobbing was becoming weaker and weaker as he ran out of energy. He stared up at Tomas with eyes that were sparkly and wet. He looked utterly broken.

‘’I just want to get it over with, Master.’’

‘’No, I’m not going to punish you,’’ Tomas said seriously.

‘’I’m begging you,’’ he cried, his voice cracking. ‘’I can’t- I can’t take this waiting a-anymore! Please, Master, please, I want it, l- let me throw myself at your mercy, I w-want to be punished f-for my disobedience, please treat y-your Pet the way I d-d-deserve, I’ll take anything for you Master, please beat me, please cut me, please whip me, pl-‘’

‘’Rowe, stop! Stop it! Stop it, please, stop,’’ Tomas shouted. Rowe fell silent immediately with a whimper. ‘’I know- I can see that’s what you thought I wanted to hear. I understand. But I’m not- this isn’t a test, or a game, okay? You don’t need pain to be good.’’

Rowe kept his mouth shut, flinching as Tomas sank down next to him.

‘’All this time you’ve been waiting for a punishment that never came.’’ Rowe nodded. Tomas exhaled deeply as he thought. Rowe needed order, and he followed rules diligently, and Tomas had fucked up by leaving Rowe in limbo with no idea when he would be punished. At least now, he had let Tomas know what was distressing him. A punishment would give him a bit of comfort, in a twisted way. ‘’Okay, Rowe, I will punish you.’’

Rowe burst into fresh tears, pressing his face to the floor. ‘’Th-thank you, thank you Master, thank you, thank you, thank you.’’

Tomas gently took Rowe’s chin and lifted his head. Was this just putting off the difficult conversations until another day? Or was this an act of mercy, relieving the mental suffering Rowe had been putting himself through? Tomas decided on the latter. Screaming at Rowe that he wouldn’t hurt him while Rowe shook and cried and begged didn’t seem very productive.

‘’Firstly, since you gave me this cut it only seems fair that you bandage it up.’’

‘’Yes, Master,’’ Rowe choked out as he ran upstairs to get the first aid kit. Tomas sat back up on the couch and peeled off the kitchen towels that were now sticky with blood. Rowe returned, discarded them, and got on with dressing the cut. Rowe’s hands were still as he pressed the anti-bacterial wipe against his Master’s skin. The bandage wrapped around his arm was neater than Tomas had ever seen before. He had to bite back the praise he wanted to give Rowe- this was a punishment, he reminded himself. He steeled himself to deliver Rowe’s punishment.

‘’I’m going up to my office. Finish cooking and bring it to me, then wash up and tidy the house. While I’m working tomorrow, stay out of my way and don’t disturb me. The only time I want to see or hear you is if I ask you to do something, which you will do immediately. Understood? You can speak freely again in 24 hours.’’

‘’Yes, Master Tomas,’’ Rowe whispered as he hurried to the kitchen counter. Tomas took himself upstairs and buried his head in his hands. He hated how good he was at sounding stern. He hated how unnatural it felt. He couldn’t shake the fear that he was undoing all of the progress Rowe had made.

[lady-sapphire]

WiP Wednesday - Solas' pride

Hi there! Yes, I have something for you today. No, I'm not really back. I'm very depressed these days (see one of the reasons here) and I'm not able to produce anything BUT: I planned to translate one of my german fanfics for a while now and finally started the process yesterday. So, here is the first try. I'm planning to post the whole story on AO3 as soon as I'm satisfied with it. I hope you like it!

Thanks to @kemvee for tagging me ages ago and still believing in me. The moonlight painted silvery spots on the floor and walls, refracted in the window panes and cast small reflections of light on the high ceiling. Silence lay over Skyhold, everything was asleep. Only Solas lay back on that sprawling bed, arms folded behind his head, his gaze wandering around the room. He dwelled on his thoughts, letting them wander here and there while he waited for sleep to find him. But sleep didn't come. He was far too aware of the presence of the other body next to him, of the young elf, who had wrapped her arms around his upper body and rested her head on his chest. Solas could count her soft, evenly breaths as he lay and listened, could smell the scent of soap and marigold oil in their hair, could sense the warmth between their bodies. Ariën Lavellan slept the sleep of the weary, only today returned from an expected journey from Emprise du Lion, to which she had not taken him this time.

Seeker Cassandra, Cole and Dorian Pavus had been her companions, and while he knew she could fend for herself and was protected by the others, it made him uneasy each time he was left alone in Skyhold. He would never have thought that he would give away his heart once in his life, after all this time and in this world in which the Veil separated them from Fade and only a few living people having natural access to it. To a Dalish, which were a sad reflection of what their people had once been, who had lost so much knowledge and tried to preserve just flawed fragments of their culture, who wore vallaslins like crowns and thought they were doing the right thing with their nomadic life. But Ariën had surprised him in many ways and taught him otherwise. Her beauty had drawn him in and her spirit had let him stay. Her large, warm brown eyes, the long jet black hair she shaved off the right side of her skull, her slim, lithe body that could effortlessly string a longbow and leap from treetop to treetop as if it were no difficulty. Solas had quickly sensed the desire he felt around her, but that alone was no reason to be interested in her. Desire was easy, desire was primitive. He knew how to contain his thirst without letting it distract him. However, as she began to have lengthy conversations with him, his fascination for her grew. Ariën was a gentle soul, so pure and loving. She was inquisitive and spent a lot of time questioning him about his dreams and earlier experiences and listening to his stories. Chosen to be the Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor, she was burdened with decisions that would change the world and affect half of Thedas. She faced each of these trials without wavering, acted wisely and prudently, always tried to find the best solution. Solas was by no means envious of her commitment, but he admired Ariën deeply. He had great respect for her and his love grew with every day he spent by her side.

But that didn't make it any easier for him. His knowing that he loved her so much, coupled with the fact that he was forced to lie to her every day and the certainty that one day he would have to turn his back on her and break her heart, strained him deeply. His duty calling him and his desire to just stay by her side and live with her forever wrestled with each other and Solas still didn't know which side had the upper hand. She was his weak point. And unfortunately, Ariën noticed that more and more. He had tried, for her sake, to forget the kiss in the Fade. But she remained stubborn, sought his closeness, his advice, was his support when he lost his friend Wisdom and crept into his heart like a cat on velvet paws.

He had wanted to avoid the second kiss on the balcony at all costs, but she had just come so close to him, had blinked up at him and he had not been able to resist the feeling of her soft lips on his again. Ariën's body had nestled against his and, realizing his mistake, he had fled, but not before telling the truth. Ar lath ma, vhenan. Strengthened in her feelings, Ariën had gradually begun to erode his resistance and uncover his devotion to her. In the beginning, she had come to him repeatedly during the day to get little caresses. First with excuses and questions that made her come closer and closer to him, until he finally succumbed and gave her caresses, kissed her, ran his fingers through her hair, caressed her delicate features. At some point, she dropped the reasons. He noticed too late how he looked forward to these small moments of the day, enjoyed these minutes of togetherness and longed for them, tried to extend them. But no more, he had told himself. Not more than that.

[theharellan]

Written for Stories of Thedas Volume II. Pairing: Solas & Cole (platonic) Prompt: Library

Masks upon masks. The Winter Palace is strange to Cole, who attends at the Inquisitor's bidding and finds himself at a loss for how to help. Solas comes upon him with ideas for how to cope with the deadly Game.

Read on AO3.

Couples spin on the dance floor, turning and turning, going nowhere and everywhere at once. Their heads fill with daydreams, one gazes into her partner’s eyes through their masks, imagining the hidden corners they could lose themselves in. Another, all he sees is the faint outline of a knife in his companion’s skirts, so all-consuming he almost forgets the steps. A third, their eyes bore holes into the other’s heads, hate springs from love eternal. His eyes dart from one couple to the next, glimpses into minds fraught with thoughts of a Game no one ever really wins.

He breathes in and feels the air catch in his throat. Honeyed words mask the taste of poison, cold compassion, they understand only so they can hurt. It isn’t right, it isn’t fair, it isn’t–

In the blink of an eye he’s in the library, surrounded by pages that whisper the words of yesterday. Not so sharp against his skin. Below, a dead man in the shape of a Warden pretends to stare at a plaque, praying no one will look at him twice, fearing they might see his valourous wings are clipped. It’s still a hurt, a tangle, but he’s trying to help. Cruelty does not become him. He lets out a breath he forgot he was holding, hands coming together to pull at his sleeves.

Oh.

He had forgotten about the uniform. The fabric doesn’t come away at his touch, no matter how hard he tugs.

And he misses his hat.

Cole wonders how long he will wait here, alone with his panic clawing at his throat. In the Spire he spent months isolated, forgotten by all save the one who no longer cares to know him. Suddenly the soft, inviting lights which illuminate the halls of the Winter Palace seem as cold as the dark cells they had kept Rhys in, clapped in irons for crimes Cole committed. Anxiety squeezes every inch of him. He counts the beats of the music that drifts from the distant dance hall, just to assure himself only minutes have passed since he came here.

A door opens behind him, and he nearly jumps into shadow, the Veil waiting to envelop him, drawing him from prying eyes, but a familiar face waits on the other side. “Solas!” he gasps, relieved and ashamed that he had doubted, but grateful most of all.

Solas shuts the door behind him, turning the handle so the latch doesn’t make a sound. “I thought I might find you here.”

That gives Cole pause. He hadn’t known he would find himself here, until it happened. “But I don’t read.” The books here are newer than those kept in the Pit, some hum with the occult, others recount poems about the shape of a woman’s hips, but he still doesn’t read. There isn’t a question in his tone, but Solas hears it, all the same.

“This place can be overwhelming for anyone, even without accounting for your abilities. Books carry meaning, but without eyes upon them those meanings are static. Far easier to take in,” he answers as he walks towards him, gait stiffer than usual. His feet had forgotten what it was like to wear shoes. Solas has been quiet that evening, quieter than usual, the stem of a glass glued between his fingers, bottomless. He lets his hat do his talking for him, the Drasca’s dissent lived on atop his head. He stops beside Cole, leaning upon the marble rail, gloved hands bearing weight. His eyes turn upon him, no brimmed hat to hide behind. “Are you all right?”

He pulls on his sleeves, this time he thinks he feels a thread come loose. “Yes... No? There are two faces for every person.” The Left Hand smiles and laughs, she comes alive, but inside it’s cold and cruel. The rose withers upon the vine. He finds the thread with his finger and pulls, but it doesn’t break. It unravels, further and further, if he keeps going his whole sleeve will be an unspooled mess on the floor. “I don’t know which to look at. I-I don’t know how to help.”

Solas reaches out, subduing his worrying hands with a single, steady touch. A gentle gesture, despite the blood which stains them. Sometimes they do not seem so different from his own, they remember the bodies because forgetting would be worse. Killer’s hands, but there is no deceit in their tenderness. Solas wraps the thread around his finger, string bright white against his brown glove, and he tugs. It snaps, suddenly brittle, and falls to the floor to be swept away by a servant who will never know they were here. A comforting hand is placed deliberately on his shoulder blade, and Cole stills. He inhales, eyes snapping from the abandoned thread to Solas. There is kindness in his eyes, quiet assurance. He has seen this all before and he will make it easier to bear. So many tricks just to make it through a day, an evening, an hour. “You will not find much compassion in these affairs, any help you offer will be perceived as duplicitous, a means to get what it is you desire.”

“Then I… shouldn’t help?”

He hesitates, delaying his answer with a moment’s deliberation. “The choice is ultimately yours, but their comfort should not come at the cost of your peace of mind.” His hand slowly falls from his back as Cole turns his advice around in his head. “While we are waiting for the Inquisitor to call upon us, rather than mend the missing pieces in strangers’ lives, perhaps I may help you.”

“Help me?” He searches Solas’ eyes for answers, compassion seeking solace in pride. They are quiet, revealing only as much as intended. Cole chips at the cracks in the rock and hopes for water to spring forth, but he guards his sorrows like a wolf guards her den.

“Would you care to learn how to dance?”

A dozen thoughts pile into the spirit’s head, most too quick to catch, but he grasps one by the tail. “Do spirits dance?”

Solas claims spirits are people, and each day that belief is realer in Cole’s own mind, reinforced by the Herald and Solas himself. He need not change to be loved, or understood, he need only be himself. But if he is a person, then he is not a person the way Varric is, or Cassandra, or even Solas. There’s a touch of sadness in the corner of his smile, as though he is sorry the question needs to be asked. “I suppose it falls to us to answer together,” he replies patiently with an offered palm.

Uncertain how it will help, but ready to trust that it can, he takes Solas’ hand.

“Listen closely,” he says, but he declines to speak again. Cole’s instruction takes a different turn, a manicured glimpse through a window into Solas’ soul.

“Delicate hand folded like a paper crane between my shoulders, her eyes shine like the gold she deals in when I take to the dance.” Josephine had poured so much into tonight, all her smiles and favours, anything that will see the Inquisition prevail. “She didn’t think you would be asked to dance, but she was afraid if you didn’t learn, someone would.”

“Her time was likely better spent elsewhere,” he agrees, “though nothing would have given me more pleasure tonight than refusing one of Celene’s court. Listen again, parse the thoughts which cloud the memory and see how we move.” Cole nods, and concentrates. He remembers the palm tucked in the valley between Solas’ shoulders, and he moves his there. His feet, too, he moves in line with his hips. It’s strange, focusing upon his own body and the space it takes up in the world. Lighter now that he has chosen compassion, but still very much real, empty only in the seconds the air rushes from the chambers of his lungs.

He feels eyes upon him, questioning, searching for confirmation before the music dares move them. “I’m ready.”

When Solas steps forward, Cole steps back, like they’re two puppets on the same musical string. He clips his strides, travelling farther faster than Solas can hope to without magic to carry him there. Awkward at first, but with each beat he feels him join with the dance that exists in his head. Old melodies, half-remembered, play in distant memories. Like the sky he knew it, once, but made himself forget. Dancing wasn’t always this way, was it?

Solas remembers. Feet too full of motion to keep his thoughts safe in his head, they spill onto the fabric of the world where Cole breathes them like his own. Memories of moving on a dancefloor to a familiar tune, swaying with the stars themselves, spinning until they parted from the earth. He swells with pride, a beast alive beneath his ribcage, it thrives and fights and inspires. When they dance the heavens and the earth move, and an empire holds its breath. It fears what dread the dawn will bring, but his People find freedom in the impromptu steps.

“What are you two doing here?” A voice snaps the string. Halamshiral looks different than it did heartbeats ago, all the magic hidden in dark corners (all the elves, too). When Cole turns to see the servant who disturbed them, he’s surprised to see a bare face behind her plain mask, and a second later cannot recall why.

With silver eyes she stares at him, unblinking. “She can see me.”

“A consequence of our dance, I believe.” Yes, he can feel it. Solas fades with each passing second, growing distant as his hand falls from his waist. “It will fade in a moment.” He speaks as though she is not there, but he’s waiting. It’s another dance, only it’s Cole’s turn to lead.

Cut loose, he turns his attention to the woman. Fear flows through her veins, the dagger beneath her sleeve is ready to open theirs. Beneath the steel, her heart wavers. Stranded between duty and love. “I’m warning you-”

“There’s still time,” he says. “She waits for you beside the fountain where you wished away Your Lady’s collection.” There were wiser things to do with gold, but oh how they’d laughed with every dream plunged into the water.

Cole steps forward and she braces, but not fast enough. “Forget.”

Time is unmade behind her eyes, and she slips the mask from her face to rub the last place she’d been kissed. Gone as quickly as she came, with new purpose in her step.

“It seems you found a way to help someone, after all,” Solas remarks after the library door has shut behind her. “You never fail to impress.”

Something in him shines brighter, bolstered by his pride. “Thank you.” He falters, looking down at his feet, curling his toes inside their boots. “I’d like to try another dance, if you think there’s time.”

A laugh coloured wine red parts Solas’ lips, punctuated by a snort that makes Blackwall down below look around for its source. “I believe there is time for one more,” he says, outstretched palm seeking Cole’s hand. “Since you have devised a way to put off intruders, I daresay we have all the time in the world.”

It isn’t a lie, but neither is it true. Like the golden caprice coins that shine beneath the lovers’ reunion, Solas’ words glow like wishes.

[elveny]

Five Favourite Passages from 2020

I got tagged by @kunstpause​ and @noire-pandora​, thank you so much! ♥

I tried to find things throughout the year. Some are recent, some are older, and some are very explicit, so reader discretion is advised. These are really just a sample, there are actually a lot of lines or passages I love. I’m rather fond of the Fade passage in this chapter, for example, the start of this chapter or the whole smut part here.

Tagging forth to @curiousthimble​ @pikapeppa​ @in-arlathan​ @elfyourmother​ @alamhigyoooo​ @allycryz​ @autumnslance​ @midnightprelude​ @irlaimsaaralath​ @hollyand-writes​ @blarfkey​ @charlatron​ @kemvee​ @anchanted-one​ @nusaran​ @greyias​ @storyknitter​ @thevikingwoman​ @johaeryslavellan​ @barbex​ @potatowitch​ and all who want to grab it ♥

In no specific order:

From this chapter of Into the Abyss (DA2):

The low, blue glow was mesmerizing and beautiful, she had always thought so. There was a slight shimmer in it that she could lose herself in, and now that she had started to hear it, the song in the back of her mind got louder. It was a strange melody, wistful and yearning. She knew that she could never even try to reproduce it, but it plucked at her heart in a way she would have been hard-pressed to describe. It felt like a forgotten, beautiful memory of a beloved place, like the feeling left behind by a loving embrace that had to end, and for a second, Adriene forgot how to breathe as she tried to capture that feeling, give it form and words.

 A soft touch on her shoulder brought her back to reality with a sharp tug.

 Adriene blinked and she took a deep breath as she looked up at Anders. A soft smile was in the corner of his mouth. Still caught in the desperate longing of the melody, she found herself staring at his lips, the full curve of his lower lip, the dimple in his cheek from his smile, and her heart stumbled. It was not the first time the urge to kiss him had welled up in her, but somehow, it felt closer to the surface, a by-now familiar mix of sadness, unfulfilled feeling, and desire.

From Splintered (FFXIV):

They called it a Calamity.

A catastrophe that threatened to sunder the world.

Adriene always felt like it did not quite match the feeling that had accompanied it. Calamity sounded too soft for the ragged, raw pain inside her, for the shards that resided where her heart had been that seemed to rip apart her chest with every breath.

I’ll put the rest under a cut for length and smuttiness ;)

From Embers (DAI):

With her arm cradled tightly against her chest, cold sweat on her forehead, she stared at Solas’ murals, trying to breathe through the pain. The shadows from the single candle she had brought flickered across the walls, making the figures dance in their wake.

“I still miss you, vhenan,” she whispered into the darkness as the pain finally subsided. High above, a raven cawed once, twice, then silence fell again. “I wonder if I will ever stop missing you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath as the Anchor flared up, blinking against the threatening tears. “But then again... probably not.” Her voice was barely audible. “Not at least if ‘ever’ stops with my death. Since it’s not so far away anymore.”

Lyssa bit her lip as she looked at the glowing, pulsating mark on her palm. She had no illusions about what would happen in the next few weeks. The speed with which the Anchor had spread throughout her had increased, and a few times, she had already felt her heart reacting to it with uncontrolled racing and painful stumbles. The mark would kill her. Soon.

“I always thought you to be strong. And I know that you see yourself that way, too. But it looks like... I’m stronger after all.” She looked up again, her eyes wandering over the pictures that she knew so very well. Oh, how she would miss them. “Because you left, while I stayed to see my beloved die. And whatever else I can blame myself for — I was at his side when he fell. But you... you’re not here.”

There could have been bitterness to her words, but she felt like she had lost that a long time ago. The only thing left was sadness.

She stood up and walked over to the unfinished mural that he had left behind. “Maybe you’ll come back to finish it once the Inquisition is gone,” she murmured, laying her hand against the soothingly cool stone. “I like to imagine that you will.”

Slowly, she turned, looking towards the desk where she had placed the pieces of the orb before she left the room in darkness and silence.

Maybe he would return here to finish his work. Maybe he would find the pieces of the broken orb. Maybe he would remember her by them.

Maybe he would remember her.

From Where The Heart Is (FFXIV):

He had no idea how long it took until a shred of self-awareness came back, a spark within the fire that was the Dragon. It barely lasted a second before the agony was stronger again and he fled again into the darkness where the Dragon didn’t reach.

For a while, he drifted, content to rest in the darkness, curled into himself. With this task accomplished, my toils shall finally be at an end… the words swirled somewhere inside him, around him, soothing in their certainty. Finally at an end. He was sure he just had to let go and it would indeed be an end, but the darkness was velvety and warm around him and he felt content where he was, so why should he? He let the darkness slide through his fingers — or the memory of his fingers, he didn’t know nor did he care. Silken and soft, like water. Or strands of hair.

Hair so dark it was nearly black as he threaded his fingers through it, knuckles brushing over the skin underneath, the touch sending a shiver over her.

He stirred at the memory, another spark of his self alight in the darkness as longing surged up, a puddle compared to the sea of agony in which Nidhogg raged, but for some reason, it did not get lost again.

He clung to it, to that spark of self-awareness and the longing, for he instinctively knew that it was a part of him he could not lose again. And slowly, he coaxed the spark back to a flame, collecting more and more sparks. Splinters of memories from which he built himself up again.

From In Heat (FFXIV):

At first, M’ajah wasn’t even aware that she kept murmuring Eremia’s name as she urged against him, half plea, half demand. It was only when he snarled, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh at the junction of her shoulder and neck, causing her voice to break in a soft wail that she realized how much she had lost herself in his touches already. But the sharp pain only heightened the pleasure that shot through her the next second as Eremia positioned her just like he wanted her and she felt him breach her with one deep thrust.

She clawed at his shoulder, actually  clawed at him, at the sensations running through her as he started to move with a low, deep-throated groan. It was nothing like anything she had felt before. Eremia had her pressed against the wall in a way that barely allowed her any movement to meet his fast, hard thrusts. This was more than she wanted, it was what she needed. She had no idea anymore where she ended and he began, and the sounds falling from her lips were unrestrained and desperate as her release was nearly within reach.

[melisusthewee]

WIP Wednesday - Let’s Talk Music

Thank you to @cleverblackcat @kittynomsdeplume @noire-pandora and @morganlefaye79 for tagging me!

I don’t have any writing to really offer today.  I’ve been trying to work on that Haven fic but unfortunately Aloysius hasn’t been co-operating with me despite all my best efforts to make him speak.  I may take a break from writing and pivot towards completing some art memes, but Wednesday just sort of crept up on me and here we are.  So instead, I’m sharing something that both is but also isn’t a work in progress?

It’s “in progress” because while I’m happy with where it currently is, I’ve said that about playlists and soundtracks before and later changed them.  I’ve worked hard on this and talked several friends’ ears off about songs I’ve heard or artists that seemed to work and thanks to their feedback I think this is a really good one.  It’s gone through several edits as well, and may potentially even go through more down the road.  So I’m saying this counts for today.

If you give it a listen (and I hope you do because I’m very proud of it so far), I hope you enjoy it and maybe discover an artist you didn’t know before.  It clocks in at around 51 minutes and features 13 tracks which span Quinn Trevelyan’s story and important events of the main game through to Trespasser.

If you are interested, below the cut is a list of tracks and a brief blurb or description about who or what they’re meant to represent.  I was going to go into things in more depth and talk about how I built it, why I picked the songs I did, and the B-Sides that were left on the cutting room floor, but after realizing I had written nearly 4 pages about just as many songs, I realized it was too much for anyone to read.  So below is just a very brief summary and I think that most of the music would speak for itself, but I’m happy to expand more on anything that anyone finds either interesting… or confusing.  (There is also Solas content because I knew a few of you love that.)

You have to click on this sentence to go to the playlist because Tumblr’s coding for “Read More” seems to be conflicting with the HTML code to embed a functional playlist.  Because of course it is.

Quinn’s tarot card is the Wheel of Fortune as his story is a series of unpredictable highs and lows.  What the Maker giveth, He also taketh away.  The playlist follows that trend of highs and lows with upbeat songs followed by darker or more mellow ones.  Whenever I create a playlist, I try to think of a general tone or sound that I want to be carried through the soundtrack.  I want the overall genre or sound to tell the story as much as the individual songs.  Because of that, you’ll see artists repeat a couple of times, and when they do it’s always intentional.  You’ll also notice that most of the vocalists are male.  This was again intentional because this is Quinn’s story, and he’s a man.  They are his songs and I wanted the vocals to reflect that.

The Cult of Dionysus - pre-Conclave Quinn

Quinn at his most basic and stereotypical before any character development happens whatsoever - poppish, upbeat, and maybe just a little obnoxious.  He smokes, he drinks, he fucks, and nothing else matters.

The Sound of Silence - Aloysius’ Theme

I like Aloysius as a more practical view and examination of Quinn and the cult that grows around him.  He affords an opportunity to look at Quinn both as the Herald but also as just a person.  He is stoic and mild-mannered, a dutiful soldier, and an excellent foil for Quinn.  This is also absolutely a reference to an Arrested Development joke.

Isle of Dogs - Quinn’s true theme

Quinn is a walking disaster constantly falling victim to his own hubris.  There’s a morose sort of resentment to the lyrics, of someone who is constantly struggling against the tide.  In a lot of ways, this is basically a reaction or push back to all the crap I have put him through.

Providence - “In Hushed Whispers”

There are no Templars here.  The first few lines relate a lot to the dismissal the fledgling Inquisition receives from what remains of the Chantry, but the rest of the lyrics are very much about the mages and Fiona’s dealings with the Venatori.

Seven Devils - “In Your Heart Shall Burn

No male vocals in this one to symbolize the change in perspective.  This is both a bit of an easy and obvious choice for this story beat.  Female vocals for Corypheus might seem strange, but when I created my Warden’s soundtrack I tended to use powerful choruses and female vocals for anything related to Blight, Archdemons, or the darkspawn.  I carried that idea over to this as Corypheus is one of the seven Magisters.

Caesar - becoming the Inquisitor

This is a softer and quiet interlude in the wake of the loss of Haven and struggle through the snow.  If the previous song marks the end of the first act, this song marks the beginning of the second.

King - “Here Lies the Abyss”

In my written world state, Alistair is both the king and the Grey Warden contact (this goes back to that longform fic I am working on).  I suppose it’s a bit unfair because in the end that has a major impact on why Quinn makes the decision he does at Adamant (a rather threatening letter from the Warden helps too).  Think of this as a duet between Quinn and Hawke.

My Type - the love interest

“Here Lies the Abyss” was completed first, then a romance triggered, then “Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts”.  This is that sort of inbetween interlude and is very much inspired by how I may have flirted with multiple characters a little too much and basically triggered several romances at once.  I also went into Quinn’s playthrough having no idea who I was going to romance and just let him shop around.  And it came down to a coin flip in the end, so “you have a pulse and you are breathing” is pretty much the only standards he has.

Boheme Supreme - party at Halamshiral

All I have to say is that I love techno swing, every single lyric in this song is perfect, and I want you all to picture Quinn Trevelyan walking into the Winter Palace with his Inner Circle entourage around him, dressed up in that outfit I drew with that peacock feathered cap and having a drink in his hand throughout the entire night’s affair.

Hell’s Coming With Me - “Doom Upon All the World”

This is the climax of the main game, the rematch between Quinn and Corypheus which I have to imagine is more impressive in concept than it was in game.  I chose the dialogue option when Corypheus calls Quinn an imposter, “I am the Maker’s chosen” as his final challenge.  Sometimes it’s easy to forget that this main is actually very Andrastian.  But he is, and the lyrics, “I am the righteous hand of God/And I am the Devil that you forgot/And I told you one day will see/I’ll be back I guarantee/And that Hell’s coming with me” are the perfect declaration.

Paradise - Jaws of Hakkon & The Descent

Another interlude song.  If the previous one is triumphant than this one is the beginning of a bad turn.  In the interim between the events of the main game and the Exalted Council, things begin to go wrong in little ways.  His relationship with Cassandra begins to break down, eventually ending in the two of them having frequent spats and going their separate ways after returning from the Frostback Basin.  This song is deceptively sarcastic about how good things are.

I Still Love You, Judas - Solas’ Betrayal

Solas… oh, Solas.  Does this song indicate a very complicated and layered relationship between Quinn and Solas?  Yes! Have I attempted to unpack any of this?  Nope!  Have fun with this one!

Tagging for this week: @kita-lavellan @silvanils @nivenor-krosis @drag-on-age @rosella-writes @inquisitoracorn

Battle Cries - Quinn and Cassandra

I saved this one for the very end because it is a story within a story.  It is sad and bittersweet, but also not.  This entire thing feels to me like a duet between Quinn and Cass on what was good, what could never last, and that it’s all over now but that’s okay.  Because “this isn’t a breakup, dear heart, it’s a season finale.”  Does this mean that Quinn sounds like Joey Batey when he sings?  Sure, why not.

[noire-pandora]

Wildflowers for @14daysdalovers​  Also on my AO3

Words:  2410

Warnings: None

Pairing: Solavellan. 

Elluin shivered, goosebumps blooming on her skin as the chilly air of the morning found a way to sneak under her leather armour and kissed her skin. She encouraged the fire in front of her to burn brighter, her magic fueling the flames. 

The morning watch found her yawning as she waited for her companions to wake up and resume their trip back to Skyhold. No matter how exciting the Emerald Graves was, she missed the castle, its corridors and the bedroom it came with. And the double bed. Sleeping in a tent, on the cool, rocky ground, with twigs stabbing her back and neck might have been fun at twenty years old, but now, at thirty-six, she appreciated a good, fluffy bed.

She learned how to enjoy the privacy of her room provided, especially when she shared the tent with Solas. His presence, his body so close to her, kept her up at night, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. The thought of waking up too close to him brought butterflies in her belly.

She huffed, yanking a stick in the fire. The feelings for Solas baffled and thrilled her. She’d be a liar to say she didn’t love the subtle flirting games going on between them or his pleased look when she didn’t back out from their little verbal teasings. 

She found the words dance exhilarating, a welcome break from all the pious and polite words the rest of the people threw at her. The people who saw her as the Herald, as the Inquisitor; a being above them, a being who inspired fear and respect. And while Solas showed her nothing but respect, she noticed the thrilling spark of something else in his eyes when his gaze lingered on her face or when his fingers touched her skin, a second too long as he healed her wounds. As the days passed, she waited, convinced those subtle touches would turn into heated caressing. 

Until Wisdom died and Solas disappeared for two weeks. In those weeks, doubt gnawed at her mind. Did she imagine it? Did she invent those signs? Will he leave her with the bitter longing in her heart? Those fourteen days felt like an eternity.

When he returned, she felt the sting of the tears in the corners of her eyes. As she ran towards him, her heart smashed against her ribs, pushing her to hurry, to abandon any restraint and press her lips against his. To admonish him for leaving her alone, for forgetting to visit her in the Fade at night. But Solas’ pained expression stopped her in her tracks. His suffering reflected on his face made her understand the deepness of his sadness. The games stopped, and a distant politeness fell between them.

And now, a week after his return, the loss still affected him, the sadness tugging at the corner of his eyes.  He spoke rarely and only when absolutely necessary. He searched for solitude, and no matter how much kindness and understanding she offered, his polite but cold smile pushed her away. 

She had no idea what to do, and every time she opened her mouth to speak with him, she stumbled on her words. A nagging thought added conflict to that: jealousy. Jealousy on a spirit. She believed the connection between Solas and Wisdom might have been more than a simple friendship. 

The noise of the tent flap opening broke her trail of thoughts. Cassandra emerged from the canvas, yawning. She wore nothing but a linen gambeson; her armour still stashed carefully next to her pillow. She nodded in acknowledgement and headed towards the trees, flexing her fingers. 

Suddenly, she stopped and turned on her heels to look at Elluin. “Inquisitor, what are you doing up? This isn’t your watch but Solas',’” she turned her gaze to search for the elf, but she frowned as he was nowhere to be seen. “Where is Solas?”

Elluin shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” she shrieked, making her way back to Elluin. “Did you not meet with him when you woke up?”

“I did, I did. I told him he can go back to sleep since I was up, but he decided to go for a walk instead. He left an hour ago.”

“An hour ago?” Cassandra threw her hands in the air. “Anything could have happened to him in an hour. “

“Cass, Solas is a grown man,” she explained, rolling her eyes. “He travelled for years on his own. I’m sure he can take care of himself for an hour, in a forest.”

“I know, but sorrow can blind anyone. He has not been himself since he left Skyhold. I will go after him.”

“Wait, I’ll go after him,” she got up from the log she sat on. “You’re in your gambeson, and it will take you at least fifteen minutes to put your armour on. I can find him faster.”

“Are you certain about it, Inquisitor?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m in my armour already, and I can see and hear better in the forest than you. I’ll be fine,” she took a moment to stretch and yawned again. She had no idea how to find Solas, but the thought of a stroll in the forest, alone, brought a smile on her lips.

The twigs snapped under the pressure of her steps, the mix of rotten leaves and mud sticking on the soles of her shoes, hindering her movements, but she was in no hurry. Cassandra exaggerated in her worries, and she knew Solas was in no danger. He survived alone, as an elf and a mage, for more than forty years. She doubted this forest could offer any challenges to him.

The trees surrounded her, giants swaying under the gentle touch of the wind. She stared at them, muttering a small prayer for her ancestor buried under their roots. The soft whispering of the woods brought peace to her mind, all the nagging thoughts about the fate of the word forgotten for a few minutes. The music of a flowing river joined the symphony, its confident bubbling encouraging her to follow its path downstream. She walked next to it, skipping and jumping on the stones scattered on the river’s bank, allowing herself a few moments of playfulness. 

Soon, the river completed the trip, its waters feeding a small, almost oval lake. Rays of lights gleamed across the water, its surface mirroring the blue, cloudless sky. Wildflowers surrounded the lake, the diverse colours of their petals joining the green of the grass, their leaves resting under the warm touch of the sun. A sweet, floral smile tickled her nose, and she took a deep breath in, filling her lungs with their scent. Her muscles instantly relaxed, a wave of relief washing over her. 

She frowned. A crouched silhouette moved in the middle of the flower patch. Her fingers twitched, ready to release her fire magic at the smallest sight of violence. The figure rose from their position, and she sighed with relief as she recognised the person. Solas. She grinned at the image in front of her: his lean, tall figure, surrounded by multicoloured flowers, their leaves touching his legs. She made a mental note to capture the scene on paper. 

“Solas!” she shouted, her voice breaking the peace. “Over here!”

Solas jumped, turning on his heels to face her in a hurry,his face strained. He immediately relaxed at her sight. In his hand, he held a small flower bouquet, the rich colours of the wildflowers contrasting with his pale fingers. A little pang of jealousy crossed Elluin’s mind.

He made his way through the patch of flowers, his feet never stepping on them. A small smile tugged at his lips, his face relaxed and calm. Her heart skipped a beat, his beauty stopping her breath. She stared at him, hardly moving, unsure what to do next. 

“Inquisitor,” he greeted her as he eventually met her. “Did something happen?”

She shook her head to clear her mind. “No. The usual. Cassandra turned into the mother hen once more, and she sent me to search for you. She worried for your safety.” 

He chuckled. The melody of his laugh sent shudders down her spine. 

“Cassandra should not worry about my safety. I can take care of myself.”

Elluin rolled her eyes. “I told her that, but you know how she is.”

“Indeed.”

Silence shrouded them as they took in the beauty surrounding them. Elluin glanced at the flowers in his hands, curiosity nibbling at her mind. She knew he valued privacy, but she had to know who was the lucky soul to receive them. 

“I see you picked up some flowers. Who’s the lucky one?” she grinned in an attempt to ease the air between them and hoped Solas won’t notice her worry. 

He looked down at his hand, his eyebrows furrowed as if he forgot about the flowers’ existence. “Oh,” he acknowledged, raising the bouquet in front of his chest. “I gathered these for you.”

“For me?” she stuttered. “Really?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “You said you wished to make your own flower garden at Skyhold. If you cut their pods and the seed heads and let them dry on wax paper for a few weeks, you can plant them. I cannot guarantee you they will bloom, but you can give it a try.”

Elluin stared at him, a curious expression crossing her face. She opened her mouth to speak a few times, hesitating to find the right words to say. When she spoke again, amazement coloured her voice. “Solas, I talked about that once, with Blackwall, months ago. You didn’t even participate in the conversation. How did you remember it?”

He smiled. “Indeed, but I did overhear the conversation, and I have a good memory. When I stumbled upon this meadow, I imagined you would be happy to take a piece of its beauty back at Skyhold. I apologise if I made a mistake and—”

“No!” she cut him off quickly, stepping closer to him, closing the distance between them. “No, it’s not like that. I’m just surprised you remembered. I want that. I want to take them at Skyhold. Thank you,” she whispered her thanks, a faint blush spreading on her face. 

Her hands reached out to take the bouquet from his hands, their fingers brushing in the movement, but Solas hands still gripped the flower’s stems, his gaze fixed on her face. She looked back at him, forgetting how to breathe. 

“I am the one who should thank you. For your help and kindness.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Help?”

“Yes. You helped me when I needed it the most. When Wisdom was in danger.”

She sighed and looked down at her legs. “I don’t know how much I helped. I couldn’t save Wisdom. They died, and you suffered,” she laughed bitterly. “I wouldn’t call that helpful.”

His long finger gingerly touched her chin, lifting it to look in her eyes again. “Even if Wisdom died, your eagerness to help mattered more than you can imagine. I am in your debt.”

Her thumb softly stroked his knuckles. “Don’t be silly, Solas. I’m sure I’m not the only one who helped you when you need it.” 

His hand left her chin, and he shook his head. “You would be surprised. It has been so long since I could trust someone with my private matters.”

“I see,” she mumbled, unsure how to act next. This was the perfect time to let her heart confess how much he meant for her, but her legs trembled with fear. She gulped down the nod in her throat, but before she could say anything, Solas spoke again. 

“I also want to apologise to you, Inquisitor.”

His words snapped her out from her state. “Apologise? What for?”

“Varric told me how concerned you were for my safety. He said you hardly ate in those two weeks I have been away.”

Her gaze dropped to the flowers both of them held as embarrassment took over her mind. She cursed herself for allowing her feelings to become that obvious. But suddenly she frowned. No, she had every right to be worried.

“I thought you would never come back. I thought you abandoned us,” she whispered. “I thought you hated me for not saving Wisdom.”

“I thought about it,” he said, the words pushing Elluin to stare at him. It was his turn to look at the flowers they still held. “To never return to Skyhold. But then I realised you did everything you could to help, and I couldn’t abandon you right now,” he shifted his gaze back to her face. “I apologized for being away. I needed to find another reason to come back. Something to keep me steady on my feet.” 

His hands left the stems of the flowers to hover above hers, their skin barely touching. He swallowed hard and studied every line of her face as if to memorise them. 

“And?” she inquired, her voice quivering. “Did you find it?” 

Solas smiled and nodded. “I did.”

The answer brought every surrounding sound to a halt, the thudding of her heart against her chest the only noise she could hear. A faint dizziness took over her. Her instinct screamed to move, to say something, anything, but her body refused to listen. Seconds passed, but no words came to her. She saw Solas’ shoulders drop, the intense expression on his face slowly replaced with his usual, calm demeanour. His hands finally left hers and she understood the magic of the moment passed. He left her side, heading towards the forest. She slapped herself mentally for missing the perfect opportunity and the ideal location for a romantic confession. 

“We should get going, Inquisitor,” she heard Solas saying. “Before the Seeker sends a searching party to find us.”

She snorted, shaking her head, and slowly left the meadow, in no hurry to abandon its beauty. The wind caressed the colourful bouquet in her hands, and she smiled at it. She looked up to check if Solas watched her, but he slowly walked away, paying no attention to her. 

She buried her face in the bouquet, the pollen colouring the tip of her nose and her cheeks. Pure happiness took over her as she took a deep breath, the sweet, wild smell tickling her senses. It was the scent of love. The scent of his love. 

[virlath]

halam'shivanas: the sweet sacrifice of duty

It implies the loss of something personal for duty’s sake

===

How tragically ironic would it be if Solas, the rebel god and breaker of slave chains, is in fact bound to Mythal’s will, much like Abelas or the drinker of the well of sorrows is?

We can assume his duty was to advise/protect Mythal, as based on the imagery and statues that depict him. Mythal’s murder would have meant he completely failed at his duty, meaning he is still bound to her even after banishing the false gods and creating the veil.

This is why he cannot be swayed on his path. He walks the dinan’shiral because he is bound by his duty to the people, and to Mythal. He can’t just walk away like Abelas can at the well. He can’t even tell the Inquisitor the truth even if he wants to because his duty to Mythal always comes first.

We all know Bioware love their tragic characters and this would just be the icing on the already delicious cake that is Thedas lore.

Note: Assumptions and theories ahead are based on speculation and theorising only- this is simply a potential take on Solas’ motivations. 

===

Firstly, why would Solas even agree to serve Mythal?

Fen’Harel statues are often seen as a symbol of guardianship. In the Temple of Mythal he is depicted as a guard dog. Guard dogs infer protection and servitude to its owner. That’s the impression I get from his statues - that he guarded Mythal willingly and with great pride.

The only reason he came to be remembered as a god at all is because he takes the form of a powerful wolf beast, and walks amongst all factions freely as a rebel leader against slavery.

If Mythal is “the best” of the evanuris (and remember, the evanuris are self proclaimed gods who all owned slaves in some sense), how could Solas lead a slave rebellion while he was still on good terms with Mythal? 

It can be assumed from clues throughout the game that Solas used to be a pure spirit in some sense before manifesting as a material elf. He refers to a person’s essence through their “spirit”, and it seems like he very much misses being a pure spirit himself.

Cole: You don't need to envy me, Solas. You can find happiness in your own way. Solas: I apologize for disturbing you, Cole. I am not a spirit, and sometimes it is hard to remember such simple truths. Cole: They are not gone so long as you remember them. Solas: I know. Cole: But you could let them go. Solas: I know that as well. Cole: You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them. Inquisitor: Solas, what is Cole talking about? Solas: A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything. Cole: You weren't wrong, though. Solas: Thank you, Cole.

(if Cole becomes more human)

Solas: How do you feel, Cole, now that you dealt with the Templar? Cole: I don't know. He hurt me... hurt the real Cole. I'm angry at him. Cole: I can't let that go. I have to become more, let it make me real. Solas: You may well become fully human, after all. I never thought to see it. Cole: When did you see it before? Solas: I did not say that I had. Cole: No, you didn't. It's harder to hear, sometimes. Sorry. Solas: Good luck, Cole. You have taken a difficult road.

Could Solas have been a pure spirit of wisdom before he took on a physical form to be at Mythal’s side? Did the ancient elves use spirits to do their bidding, and those with greater power used physical bodies to transcend singular character traits to gain the full complexity and spectrum of emotions and actions? Perhaps that seemed appealing to Solas at the time - to become more than he currently was?

To gain wisdom you have to actively seek it. That means travelling and learning, a trait that Solas embodies. He elaborates on more of his travels if you ask him at Haven.

“The Fade reflects the world around it. Unless I travelled I would never find anything new.”

“The Fade reflects and is limited by our imaginations. To find interesting areas, one must be interesting.”

I have explored the Fade more than anyone alive, but even I can only visit in dreams. 

Then in Trespasser, Cole cryptically reveals more snippets of his past (presumed). 

Cole: He did not want a body. But she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face.

Cole: He wants to give wisdom, not orders.

So, why would Solas willingly serve Mythal if he is so against slavery and servitude? 

I presume it is because he actively sought more wisdom and inadvertently fell into Mythal’s will to attain more knowledge. Whether or not he deliberately became Mythal’s servant/advisor is up for debate. His circumstances could mirror his personal quest in DAI, where Mythal summoned him as a spirit to be her advisor, turning him from wisdom to pride. Or, this could just be a red herring.

Abelas sheds a bit of light on what serving Mythal actually entails:

“Brave it if you must. But know you this, you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal....Bound as we are bound. The choice is yours.”

I personally think Solas could very well have chosen to attain more wisdom at the cost of serving Mythal- becoming her personal guard dog if you will. He was after all, cocky and thought he knew everything. 

In any case, in forming a physical self, he inadvertently came into great power, becoming Fen’Harel, deified in his own right. 

And once you have power, you always want more. It’s what forms a part of being human- he touches on this a lot in banter and dialogue throughout the game. To a wisdom spirit who simply sought more wisdom in the world, it makes sense he would always want to learn more and know more and be more. 

To gain more wisdom, he had to constantly seek out greater things, and being in a position of great power as Mythal’s right hand man allowed him to collect this wisdom he so desired. 

Solas traded wisdom for a physical body, thus he lost his spirit form permanently. He traded the simplicity of being a spirit of wisdom, for the complexity of being a mortal elf with all the emotions tied to it. He traded the very essence of his being to become one of Mythal’s own trusted advisors.

That was the cost of him gaining more knowledge through Mythal’s position of power- without this sacrifice of self, he would never have seen more, or known more, or been more than the singular trait of wisdom.

This is perhaps why he feels so lonely and betrayed and like he can’t trust anyone- because as a spirit, life was simple, he simply collected knowledge and passed it on. As a physical being, he learnt the brutality of war and the cost of betrayal. These events define his overall perception of physical beings, which is why he doesn’t view people as people. He simply views them as pawns to be used, like a game of chess. “He wants to give wisdom, not orders.“

It could also explain why he disdains physicality and envies Cole - he simply wishes everything were that simple, but it can’t because he is now a material being. When he realises his love for the Inquisitor is real, and that the companions in the Inquisition are real, it shakes the entirety of his core beliefs about what makes people, people. He only falls back to his sense of duty because he has to. He failed Mythal when she was killed, and she wants revenge. To achieve vengeance, she needs her guard dog to do her bidding.

===

Solas’ purpose changed 

As the ancient elves warred between themselves, Mythal would have needed advisors and trusted friends. She would have relied on Solas heavily, because he was a willing servant full of wisdom and advice, and his wisdom would be invaluable during a civil war. What Solas was to the Inquisition, he was probably even more so to Mythal.

This may be the reason why Mythal actually uplifted Solas as the dread wolf, helping him shape the image of fear and rebellion. She allowed him to be free of his vallaslin and create his rebellion- it was all subterfuge and part of her master plan to create chaos amongst her rivals and their slaves.

The side benefit was Solas took the fall for her in almost every respect- she came to be remembered as Mythal, the patron of motherhood and justice, while Solas came to be remembered as the trickster “god”, the dread wolf who sabotaged Mythal’s enemies while freeing slaves at the same time.

It was a symbiotic relationship for both of them as their actions aligned with each other’s motivations. It wasn’t out of love that Solas served Mythal, but his bonds of duty, personal desire for wisdom, and eventually his personal quest to end cruelty and slavery. He says himself he did not lead a rebellion without getting his hands bloody. Solas is not a saint and it’s easy to forget that- he was part of the institution as well.

===

Solas’ is a mortal mage whose weakness is pride

Solas isn’t infallible and he knows this. He makes so many mistakes out of arrogance it would be funny if it wasn’t sad. I mean, he gave his orb to Corypheus...what possessed him to think that was a good idea?

His pride is his weakness and he severely underestimates the complexity of human emotions and motivations. Where once he simply desired more wisdom, now, he thinks he knows better than anyone else because of his pride. He thinks modern Thedas is full of “tranquil” because he is so arrogant to believe that his past was better than the future he helped create, even though ancient elvhenan was chock full of slavery and cruelty. 

In fact, his position of power was enabled through the evanuris, and Mythal herself, who was at the top of the pecking order. 

Somewhere along the way, Mythal used him as a general or commander in the war. That is when I think Solas changed from an advisor to one that embodied pride. In doing so he took on the form of a reptilian wolf / dragon hybrid. “I would not have you see what I become...”

If you drink from the well, and have high approval with him, he will be very upset after the fact:

“You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elven god!...You are Mythal’s creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her. You have given up a part of yourself.”

Solas knows what the Inquisitor has given up because perhaps he also gave up a part of himself for her.

===

Solas vs. Mythal

At the end of DAI, Flemeth specifically says to Solas “I knew you would come”

When he says “I am so sorry” to Flemeth, she responds in kind. “I am sorry as well...old friend”. 

It’s not a “I’m sorry you failed” sorry. It’s a “I’m sorry for what I’m about to get you to do” sorry. It’s hard to be certain at this point exactly what power Mythal bestows upon Solas, but I think the fact remains, Solas isn’t simply Solas anymore. Through his bonds of duty to Mythal, his actions will be for her whether or not he knows it. 

With the essence of Mythal’s power, the things he will do in the name of saving the elven people will likely also form a part of her master plan for vengeance against the other evanuris.

[jaimebluesq]

Tag Game:

10 Characters, 10 Fandoms, 10 Tags

Tagged by: @fortune-maiden

In no particular order:

1) Nie Huaisang - The Undamed/Mo Dao Zu Shi - My current comfort character/obsession/character I resonate with FAR TOO MUCH. Thank you NHS for getting me back into writing fanfic!

2) Percy Weasley - Harry Potter - Not only my favourite character in the Harry Potter franchise, but the one I played the most in role-playing games on Livejournal/Insanejournal/etc. I just loved getting into his head, even when I ended up fighting (in-game) with other characters.

3) Joxer the Mighty - Xena/Hercules - Ah, Joxer, how many years did I spend with you, writing fanfic, playing around in fandom, interacting with fans, etc? You were a formative part of my entire fandom experience and I will forever be grateful to you.

4) Feng Zhiwei - The Rise of Phoenixes - this is the show that solidified my absorption into CDramas. I love this character SO FUCKING MUCH, even if her ending is sad (and Gu Nanyi, ugh, my heart!).

5) Wei Yingluo - Story of Yanxi Palace - and speaking of how I got into watching CDramas... I was playing silly emperor/concubine games on mobile and someone mentioned it was a good show, so I said what the hell, I'll give it a watch... and the rest is history.

6) Gonzo the Great - The Muppets - I can't make a list like this without mentioning what is technically the first fanfic I ever wrote, when I was in grade 5 - we were asked to write a short piece for a class assignment and I wrote an origin story for Gonzo that kind of resembled the Superman origin but funny.

7) Wesley Crusher - Star Trek: The Next Generation - Yes, I was a Wesley fangirl once upon a time. My obsession with TNG was legendary - I used to sit at my VCR every new episode and tape them, making sure to pause the recording so as to not get the commercials. I convinced my friends to sit with me, go through episodes, and memorize funny lines that we could say to each other in public areas as inside jokes. My parents even brought me to Canada's Wonderland when the ST thing first started there and I got to chat with a klingon and a vulcan after I went to the klingon and went NuqneH. OMG I feel so old LOL

8) Ianto Jones - Torchwood/Doctor Who - The tea boy stole my heart when I first saw him in a suit, but when we found out what he was hiding in the basement and witnessed his misguided loyalty to love, I was hooked. Children of Earth never happened (not because I can't stand that he died, it just wasn't a good death imho, it wasn't a brave sacrifice to save people, just fridging to give Captain Jack motivation to do what he did). (I was torn between Ianto and Donna Noble because Donna FTW, but I was one of the rare few who actually watched Torchwood before Doctor Who, so Ianto was my #1)

9) Zevran Arainai - Dragon Age - It was close between Zev and Solas (look at previous entry for clue as to why I loved Solas so fucking much), but out of all the games (Origins, 2, Inquisition), Zev was the one I romanced the most because he's just so MY TYPE. I loved the flirting, the backstory, the fact that when you get serious he backs away. Yes he can be a mouthy jackass with the overly sexual talk with the other companions, but I've legit had friends like that and they were a blast. (Add Fenris to this list and you see I have a fucking type).

10) Evie Frye - Assassin's Creed: Syndicate - I know this is def gonna be an unpopular opinion, but Syndicate is the AC game I've had the most fun playing, have played it 3 times at least all the way through, and I fucking love Evie. I love her story, her relationship with her father, her relationship with her brother, and of course the romance with Henry Green (who I would fall for too). I know it's one of the lesser popular AC games, but I don't care, I'm so happy they made it and I'm happy I got to play as Evie because she rocks.

Tagging: @clumsyelf @joeyrz @raging-red-lotus-of-qinghe

[emerald-amidst-gold]

For the touches ask game, maybe touching 1 or 8?

You ask for fluff? :3 Do I answer with fluff? Oh, I do, I do! >:3

Thank you so much! These little prompts get me in the zone! X3

***

I chose number 8 for this!

8. squeezing hand for comfort and encouragement

"May I?"

The question was familiar, as many things were to Fane, but this one was especially so. In a way, it was aggravatingly so, but he knew why it was continuously asked, and while on the outside he may sigh in exasperation and roll his eyes, on the inside he was touched by the consideration.

Fane looked up from where he was sharpening his blade, halting the whetstone from its methodical pace. The last battle had been long, the rift they had located in the deeper parts of the Emerald Graves spewing out Pride demons left and right. The fury he had felt at taunting words in the back of his mind still made him involuntarily shiver, but now, he was anything but shivering as calm, blue eyes gazed down at him, the question voiced also housed without grey and indigo. He hadn't even heard Solas' footsteps upon the grass, but that was what made a wolf a wolf; stealthy, but not endeavoring to do so.

"You don't have to keep asking that every time, you know?", Fane pointed out, letting his greatsword lay across his lap as the sky now required his attention, and he would not ignore it as he had in the past. And a tender expression upon usually sharp, calculating features, and a small smile on usually flat line lips were far more interesting than weapon repairs.

Solas shook his head. "That is where you're wrong, my dragon.", he said, carefully coming around to gingerly sit beside him, the log not even sounding with a dull thump at the added weight.

"Oh? How am I wrong this time?", Fane asked, making sure to keep his voice somewhat light. He didn't want to come across as offended. He had a bad habit of doing that, even when he knew the other party meant no harm.

Solas chuckled, stormy orbs regarding him with fondness. "You are wrong in that I don't have to ask.", he divulged, turning away a bit rummage through his pack, searching for something.

Fane raised an eyebrow at that, but opted to let the mage do his thing. The truth would be presented to him before long. It always was.

"Well..", Fane began, lifting his sword from his lap to set it to the side, propping it against the side of the log next to him. "..you have my permission, even though it's unnecessary. That rift really fucked it up, so do your thing."

His consent should be obvious, but his sky always, always felt as if he spurned his touch, his help. In the past, perhaps he had, flinching and snapping because of scars and memories, but with his self slowly melding back together, such questions and confirmation should be unneeded.

Or so Fane thought. Maybe Solas thought differently if how he was still was not deigning to touch him, hands in his lap, a fresh piece of leather for wrapping in it, and eyes asking the same old question of, 'May I?'.

Fane rolled his eyes. "Solas. You can touch me.", he growled out, actually thrusting his marked hand towards the mage, but actively snarled when he still made no move. "Solas." What was the man's deal today?

"Vhenan.", the mage echoed back with the endearment, voice level and expression calm. "Why is it do you think I ask?" The question firm despite the tenderness underneath.

"Because you're a stubborn ass.", Fane grumbled out, shifting his gaze away momentarily to look out at the plethora of vegetation, hoping it would calm his irritation a bit. He could feel the thrum of magic within the Anchor from it and the last thing they needed was it going off.

Solas shook his head, sighing. "No, Fane.", he denied, the sound of shifting indicating that a body had moved closer to where he was. "I ask because you deserve to be asked." The words a whisper, a profound revelation, but it was lost on Fane as he turned his gaze back with a furrowed brow.

"Deserve to be asked?", he asked for further clarification, simmering irritation dying down as he connected with blue-grey, draconic nature kicking in as he observed the quiet essences of concern and consideration.

Solas nodded, smile growing a bit sad. "Hands have been thrust upon you since the very beginning. Without your consent, without your knowledge", he said, voice dropping lower, shame flashing in blue and grey. "Such a thing should not be allowed, but in Haven I did just that. As well as centuries before when you lay upon the floor, body bleeding, mind broken.." The words strained as sorrow and grief threatened to shatter the voice expelling them. "You never asked to be touched so inconsiderately, and it is why I will continue to ask."

Fane sighed, realizing where this was going now. "You saved me, Solas. Even though, at the time, you were trying to figure out a way to get the Anchor back.", he said, reaching out on his own to take a hold of a smoother, but just as bloodied hand as his. "And you saved me centuries ago, guiding my mind to rest when I couldn't do it on my own." The words slow, but firm. He needed to make his sky realize that the touches were never unwelcome, even when he was unable to say so. "You know me enough by now that my consent? My affirmations? They're housed in my eyes, in my body language. For the most part, they are silent. So, if my body is prone, is frail, is unguarded when it otherwise is always locked up, then that is my consent."

Solas' hand within his own twitched, but slowly wrapped around his, loving instinct taking hold despite the hesitancy. Fane couldn't help but smile a bit at that, scooting closer so that they were almost shoulder to shoulder.

"I...", Solas began, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes before continuing. "...I understand that. I do. However, such silence at times has me believing you are..", he trailed off, hand squeezing his own a bit for a grounding effect, and one Fane reciprocated within moments.

"I'm not being controlled.", he declared, quietly, sternly, but also as tenderly as he could, voice rumbling, dropping low. "Not by the Anchor. Not by the chains of my mind. Not by you. Never you, Solas."

"How do you know?", Solas asked, voice just as quiet, but coming out somewhat hissing. "The chains are in place, and all it would take is--"

"Because you wouldn't tighten the shackles.", Fane butt in, immediately stopping that line of thinking. For Solas even to think, for one moment, that he was doing everything that he did as if heeling like a mabari was upsetting. And for the mage to feel as if he were the one to have enacted it...that was even worse. "I love you, my sky. And my willingness, my loyalty, to you, is not the act of a slave bowing to their master. It never has been."

Solas stared at him for what felt like eons, another century seeming to blur past as blue shifted and swirled before they softened and the hand within his own pulled it closer, stroking, squeezing, and soaking in his consent. But familiar words still fell from beloved lips, voice still housing a desire to correct something that wasn't its fault.

"May I?", Solas asked, despite how his grip on Fane's hand was vice-like. The sky was turned downwards, clouds billowing within its expanse as they took on a shimmer of rain. "May I..?" The question coming again, more strained, more pleading. Fane felt the pinching, prickling sensation of grief at the repeated question, and in response, he turned his palm upwards despite the fierce grasp locking his wrist in place.

"You don't have to ask.", Fane whispered, leaning forward to put their foreheads together, hoping to the convey the message through the storm staring back at him. "You don't.." He gave the hand now trembling slightly in his an encouraging squeeze.

"May I?", Solas asked again, eyes shutting once again, a mind fighting with itself to keep locked up emotions at bay. Fane let his own eyes fall shut, but kept their foreheads together, and unable to fight against the raging, stubborn storm before him as its deluge nearly drowned him with sorrow.

"...You may.", he whispered, knowing it was the only way for the sun to pierce the billowing storm clouds above. "You may."

And only then, when vocal consent was voiced from a being who was unaccustomed to such things, did Solas freely begin to examine, to trail his fingers, to lay their palms together, to touch, and through it all, Fane would squeeze, would tickle delicate fingers with the pads of his own, and touch in turn, voicing his consent in the only way he knew.

****

Did it turn angsty? Oh, it did. I can't escape its touch for long, can I? *cackles and cries* How you enjoyed it, though! X3

[potatowitch]

Sera Approval Guide

aka: how to minimise Sera disapproval when you’re a Solas-romancing, pro-mage, proud Dalish elfy elf

Credit for the info in this guide goes to the Dragon Age Wikis here, here and here.

Acceptable Losses (IMO) - Disapproval when I allied with the mages instead of conscripting them - Disapproval when I exiled the Wardens (no, I didn't just do this for the Solas approval but it CERTAINLY HELPED) - Disapproval when I let Celene die so I could support Briala at the Winter Palace - Disapproval when I allied with Abelas and the Sentinels

Haven First conversation (I thought it'd be bigger) "They're too busy to look up where the real questions are". - You think it should be easy. (Slightly Approves) "Sound good to you, all touched Lady Herald?" - We'll succeed. We have to. (Slightly Approves) - Sounds good to me. (Slightly Approves) - I only care about stopping it. (Slightly Approves)

Becoming Inquisitor When you're making a speech directly after becoming Inquisitor, Sera will approve if you say: - Because it's right. - Corypheus must be stopped. - Lead them to vengeance. She will disapprove if you say "an elf will stand for us all". Love that internalised racism, Sera.

Immediately After Reaching Skyhold Make sure to speak to Sera in Haven at least once after recruiting her. You will get disapproval if you recruit her and then don't speak to her until Skyhold. Do not leave Skyhold after reaching it before speaking to her either. What'd I step in? - Don't say "Andraste? Not an elven god?" (Slightly Disapproves if you do) - Ask "Do you believe or not?" - I need doubters like you. (Slightly Approves)

First Time Leaving and Returning to Skyhold Asking "why did you really join me?", she will reply "What do you mean? To help people." - Seems like there's more to it. (Slightly Approves)

Red Jenny Stashes and The Winter Palace Make sure to bring Sera to the Winter Palace with you. If you use the Halla statues to unlock the door to Celene's bedroom where a soldier is naked and tied up, then choose to leave him there after your conversation, Sera will Slightly Approve. You will also gain access to Red Jenny's Stashes. These WILL NOT show up as a blip when you use the search function. Sera must be in the party for them to appear. There are three in the Winter Palace - one in the Guest Wing Garden (in the room near where you eavesdrop on the nobles), one in the Servant's Quarters' Garden (south western most corner, near some embrium) and in the Lower Garden (behind the vine fence opposite the three Council members). Sera Approves for each stash you open.

Red Jenny Caches - Out In The World Again, these will not show up as a blip on the search function and you must have Sera in the party for them to appear. You can, however, access these before Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. Finding each one nets you a Slightly Approves from Sera. Their locations can be found here

After the Winter Palace "Ugh, that place. Should have just thrown in some bees and slammed the doors." - Earwigs. That'd stop a ball. (Slightly Approves) - Their mistakes made it worse. (Approves)

After Here Lies the Abyss Sera disapproves if you exile the Wardens, but you gain that approval back if you allow Blackwall to stay. "Heard what went on in that Fade thing. What you think went on. Can't even start to believe that business." - A difficult time for everyone. (Slightly Approves) - All I know is we lost people. (Slightly Approves) "They're the good thing that means a bad thing is about to happen. Like in Denerim, when the Blight ended." - What do you remember?/What was the Blight like? (Approves)

The Verchiel March (Personal Quest) - Let her kill the noble or if you have the perk Nobility Knowledge, get him to serve the inquisition (Approves) After getting back to Skyhold, you'll get one of five opening lines. Respond with the option: - You're right/Unpredictable, but worth it. (Greatly Approves) "Right, what do you mean, because I am really not used to that ... acceptance thing you're doing right there." - I want us to be friends. (Slightly Approves)

After Verchiel - Speaking With Her Again - Do not say "you pretend that's moral?" (She slightly disapproves) After you say "I expected people from you" - Well, as long as it works. (Slightly Approves) After you say "do your pranks achieve much?" and she replies "It's inspiring. Even if it sometimes goes tits up and they take a hit back. You know, like Haven?" - That's actually a fair point. (Slightly Approves)

Pranks - unlocks at +35 approval, must have completed Verchiel March and spoken to the Warden in Crestwood. Accept doing the pranks, do all of them for maximum approval. - Anything to keep us inspired. (Slightly Approves)

After What Pride Had Wrought - Sera will disapprove if you drank from the Well. I never do because I tried it once and not only did Sera yell at me but Solas did too and it made me sad so I reloaded lmao - I always disagree with her when she says everything at the Temple was lies. This nets you disapproval and triggers the following: "You're the frigging Herald of Andraste! Every time you open your mouth, you'll sound like an idiot." - It wouldn't be the first time OR That hasn't stopped you. (Approves)

Wedding in Val Royeaux If you complete the Alliances: From The Heart war table mission with Josephine and attend the wedding in Val Royeaux, make sure to bring Sera, and when you're making a speech: - Spend your new wealth on joy. - Live life to the fullest/You've a duty to yourselves/Who cares what anyone thinks?. (Approves)

In The Field Completing the following quests in the Hinterlands will net you a Slightly Approves from Sera. (Solas also approves of some of them too, so take him with as well): - A Healing Hand (Redcliffe Village) - Agrarian Apostate - Hunger Pangs - In The Elements - Shallow Breaths If you've brought Sera with you to the Western Approach when you meet Erimond for the first time, telling him to let the Grey Wardens go will net you a Slightly Approves. You will get approval for killing the nugs in the Flooded Cave in Crestwood but at what cost? Don't kill the nugs. You'll make Cole sad. If you bring Sera with you to the Temple of Mythal (I don't recommend, because she will disapprove if you ally with the Sentinels), she does Slightly Approve if you destroy Samson's armor.

Sit In Judgement Avvar Tribesman (after The Fallow Mire) - Arm and banish him to Tevinter. (You get approval from everyone but Varric and Cassandra for this one - those two don't have any approval changes for this option) Alexius - He'll serve Redcliffe's mages. (Will net you disapproval with Sera, but approval from Solas, Iron Bull, Blackwall and Cole) - I want him researching magic. (Requires perk Arcane Knowledge) (Will net you disapproval from both Sera and Cassandra, but approval from Solas, Bull, Vivienne and Cole, and will open a War Table mission) - I'm executing him myself. (Will net you approval with Sera, Bull and Cole, but disapproval with Solas and Varric. Dorian will also be sad in some dialogue you can have with him afterwards) Servis (Western Approach) - Give him back to Corypheus. (Approval with Solas, Bull and Sera. Disapproval with Dorian, Blackwall, Varric and Cole.) - An informant. On probation. (Opens War Table mission) (Disapproval with Sera and Cole, approval with Solas, Bull, Blackwall and Vivienne) - I want him as a smuggler (Requires Underworld Knowledge perk) (Recruits him as an agent) (Disapproval with Cassandra, Sera and Cole, approval with Solas, Dorian, Bull and Varric) Mayor Dedrick (Crestwood) - I'll give him a clean death. (Nets approval with Bull, Sera and Cole but disapproval with Solas) - The best I can do is exile. (Disapproval from Bull, Sera and Cole but approval from Solas) - Ferelden can lock him up. (No reaction from Sera or Solas, disapproval from Cole, approval from Bull, Varric and Vivienne) Erimond (Adamant) - Give him to the Wardens (approval from Bull, Blackwall, Sera and Cole, disapproval from Solas) - Imprison him (Approval from Varric, Dorian, Vivienne, Blackwall and Sera, disapproval from Solas and Cole) - Execute him (Approval from Solas, Bull, Sera and Cole) (PICK THIS ONE) Ser Ruth (Adamant) - I won't judge a Warden (Approval from Sera and Blackwall, disapproval from Solas, Cassandra, Cole and Vivienne) - Go to the Deep Roads (Unlocks operation) (Approval from Sera, Cole and Varric, disapproval from Solas) - Public humiliation, then (Disapproval from Blackwall, Sera and Cole, approval from Solas and Vivienne) Florianne, Dead (Halamshiral) - Ha! Community service! (Gain an agent, unlock war table mission) (Disapproval from Cassandra and Cole, approval from Sera) Thom Rainier - You're free, if you atone (Higher approval from Sera) - The Wardens will decide (slightly lower approval from Sera) Mistress Poulin (Emprise du Lion) - You're free to go. (Approval from Solas, Blackwall, Varric and Cole, disapproval from Bull and Sera) - Put her to work. (Approval from everyone except Dorian and Vivienne) - Have her rebuild the town. (Approval from Varric, Sera and Vivienne, disapproval from Blackwall and Bull) Samson - Cullen will question you. (Only available if you completed Before The Dawn and chose "Maddox respected you" as a previous dialogue option) (Approval from Solas, Vivienne and Bull) - Let Kirkwall have you. (Approval from Sera and Varric)