#I made Solas suffer but I suffered with him

[ree-duh]

var lath vir suledin

[hopeslastkiss]

'bad ending' solas and elf!rook - penance

web weaving insp. - pt.i - pt.ii

[rin-hanarin]

A very great thing in this game I really appreciate: the ability to not kiss Solas's ass at every other opportunity. Renzo just hates this guy, and thankfully it's possible to actually express.

[vaguely-concerned]

first of all rye 'hello fellow kids' ingellvar there is nothing in this world or any other I wouldn't do for you. second of all, considering where this story ends... I'm going to die. this conversation -- and how much he genuinely believes what he's saying at this point -- held up against the fact that in a couple of months max he's going to get her killed (well. that's how he feels anyway) and then go against everything she believed in and stood for as a person in the end and have to live forever with knowing that's how he honoured her sacrifice. (and live with how easy it is to live with, the way he doesn't regret what he did at all. she'll haunt him from time to time, that's fine, he's a watcher he's loved many a ghost before and will again. but that won't.) 'no one is beyond help? oh lace I'm so so sorry, wherever you are now please forgive me for who I am, but after what he pulled and by the time I'm done with him on my watcher's oath he will be beyond help. I'll hold every hand in this world that reaches back but his'. and she'll still be gone.

'or none of this matters'. im so fucking sad I feel sick *through tears* this is great I love fiction I love this game (embarrassingly genuine as is my wont)

[splynter]

Very messy Lungs sketch because I’m sick and today has been stressful so I’m putting all that into him so he can have a tantrum for me

[baphometsss]

I don't wanna sit here and act like I'm a professional or anything, because I'm not, but as someone who has had to do a lot of work to overcome trauma and reconfigure my brain more or less from the ground up, there's a lot I have to say about Solas's mental state

We know that Solas was essentially used and abused by Mythal for millennia. Even if he wasn't under a geas, he was twisted from his purpose by being made to fight, and then created the Wolf's Fang which was used to make the Titans tranquil and started the Blights. He made those choices himself, but it's important to understand that no choice is ever made in a vacuum. She took advantage of his vulnerability when he was given a body after however long as a spirit semi-existing peacefully in the Fade, and moulded him into a weapon.

He is broken, because Mythal broke him. I'm not incapable of seeing why she did what she did because like I said, no one makes choices in a vacuum and I could write about her for a long time too (in a similar way to how I have had to do myself in my own life in understanding why others abused me). He was so traumatised by everything that happened and he was trauma bonded to Mythal pretty much from the minute he gained a body. Trauma bonds are not about love. He definitely interpreted it that way, as most people do, but that's the weapon abusers use to keep the victim under their control. Abuse abuse abuse show a scrap of love and then abuse some more. If I just take it, I'll get the love/attention I need. I will earn it, because love is suffering, and I have to suffer to earn getting my basic needs met from my family/friends. Mythal, as his creator, was the one who he would've attached to in a similar way to spirit Cole/human Cole.

Trauma bonds are pathological. Mythal made him believe that if he did as she asked, and kept supporting her, then eventually he would gain her favour and they would be able to free all the elves, and he'd be able to live according to his true nature, which is one where he doesn't have to fight. (Remember his personal quest in DAI? He actually kills the rebel mages for corrupting his friend--another Wisdom spirit--into Pride.) In reality, she was just using him. She always kept the bone just out of reach for her lapdog. The line from Rook where they say (paraphrasing here) 'you know, I was actually excited about getting your approval... That's how you do it, isn't it? Keep giving little scraps of approval to keep someone loyal, and then you turn around and betray them' is so telling too.

Where--or from whom--do you think he learned to do this?

It literally reeks of a pathological trauma bond and honestly, with how isolated, 'grim and fatalistic' Solas is, it is not a surprise that he's so broken.

Solas, essentially, is little more than a lap-dog to Mythal. He followed her like a lost puppy, because especially in his early days, that's kind of what he was. You have to remember that most of the insight we get about Mythal is from Solas's perspective, and he is not a reliable person when it comes to her after so long being repeatedly terrorised and twisted and manipulated. There are several instances where he describes being betrayed by her, and mentions some of the things she did, but he never quite holds her fully accountable and ends up directing his rage elsewhere. (The parallel between Mythal/Solas and the rebel mages/Wisdom is important here.)

This awesome post by @mythalism only reinforces this. He is so messed up in that scene, he is broken, he is holding the Wolf's Fang up, trying to give it to her because it symbolises the burden he has carried for thousands of years trying to avenge her death. He never wanted the Fang, like he never wanted a body. Mythal just stands over him, fully aware of what she did to him, and only getting him to stop because Rook petitioned her successfully, and the reunion with the more benevolent Mythal within Morrigan tempered her anger. She was a goddess, with the unequal power dynamic, right to the end.

As a side note, on the potential romance element between Mythal and Solas, I read an excellent breakdown of it on Reddit a while ago about how out of character it would've been for Solas to keep something like that from a romanced Lavellan, especially in Trespasser when he comes clean about his plan/past. I can't find it now because it was pre-Veilguard release, but it made a lot of sense to me. Solas and Lavellan never have a love scene in DAI because Solas didn't want to 'lay with them under false pretences'. Lying about who you are when sleeping with someone is nonconsensual. You can't consent to sleeping with someone if you don't know their true identity, and someone who knowingly lies about who they are to get into your pants is a sexual predator. For someone who led a slave rebellion (no doubt many of them being sex slaves), and a former spirit of Wisdom, Solas would've been well aware of this. In the unsent letter from Solas to Lavellan he says he came so close to breaking and desperately wanted to stay with them as Solas, with the implication being that that is where he planned to sleep with them once he'd come clean. But because he stops, because he's still unable to forgive himself or release himself from his trauma bond with Mythal, he breaks away, and they never have sex.

Bottom line: Solas would've been honest about it. Especially that. As the Inquisitor says, he can't lie about his heart.

And it's why the Solas/Lavellan romance is so powerful because quote, 'you change everything'. Solas thought he knew what love was, that love was loyalty, devotion, worship, etc. It's not just his plans or worldview that Lavellan changes. Lavellan sees him for who he is, without the mantle of Dread Wolf, and because of that he's able to express his true nature to her, even if he's not being totally honest in Inquisition. Lavellan got much closer to the real him than most, as he says, and changed his understanding of love completely. Unfortunately, he has unfinished business, an unresolved trauma bond, and his crushing sense of duty to the past is what keeps him from taking that final step towards letting go of it entirely. Trick also says Solas doesn't think he deserves love, which tbh is kind of a hallmark trait of people who have survived abuse.

And honestly? Call me a simp but I think he really was trying to get the Inquisitor to stop him. He saw himself being unable to let go because he was so broken and burdened by his guilt, and knew he couldn't save himself--was too proud to admit that he couldn't, because how pathetic does it make him look? And how could he stop now without rendering all the damage he'd wrought pointless? Yet here was someone who had changed him right down to his core, who understood him in a way few people ever had, whom he trusted, whom he loved in a way he hadn't loved anyone else before. It took him 'centuries' to build up rapport with the members of his rebellion. The man does not know how to form attachments without trauma, and suddenly he forms a strong one with someone who loves him completely and without condition. It's a jarring change.

Lavellan says that maybe they're being prideful themselves, refusing to see their own folly. But I think in admitting that they might be wrong, that it might be wishful thinking borne from misguided love to a truly terrible person, they've rendered the point moot. It shows self-awareness, which isn't folly.

If anyone can make Solas understand true love, it's Lavellan. Lavellan loved him when he was being his true self. Lavellan loved him after his betrayal was revealed. Lavellan loved him when his guilty conscience and terrible actions almost destroyed the world. Lavellan loved him because they knew the real him, and knew that his heart and spirit were broken, and knew that their love would endure, that their love would heal him.

And that's exactly where they end up. Healing the past, soothing the Blight, and loving one another completely.

[maliro-t]

The highlight of Veilguard for me is the relationship between Solas and Rook- and I don't know how to write about this on the internet without being acutely aware of other peoples' criticisms (such as there not being enough of it)- so I'll just say up top that I'm not actually intending this as a refutation of any of those. I just want to talk about my experience with the game and why I like it so much, which will probably make obvious where I disagree with some reoccurring critiques I've seen. *

The thing about Solas in this game is that he plays the role of the trickster perfectly. As much as Fen'Harel is a myth or a persona, and the stories we know of him invented or twisted, his role in Veilguard feels like it could slot in so, so easily with the myths, and in many ways directly parallels them. He is sinister and noble, monstrous and sympathetic, ruthless and compassionate, all at once. He spends the game trapped and humbled but can be almost gleefully condescending at times. He conflates outsmarting an enemy with being right, even as he plays the long-suffering martyr, tortured by countless mistakes. He falls easily into the role of advisor but is quick to note your foolishness. To sneer and declare the problem yours and yet still impose upon you an appraisal of your conduct.

But more than any of that, for most of the game, he's...passive. Dormant. He seems to make no moves, other than as a glorified consultant, despite starting as the main threat.

In Blood of Arlathan, when he finally rears his head again as major a player on the board, it's with a gallant offer of help. As an ally. He is exactly what you need, right when you need it, and you don't even have to ask him to be. And- because you don't have constant access to him, you maybe haven't even considered him an option!

He feels extremely intentionally sparing to me before this in service of a) making you think you're the one with power over him and b) causing you to forget he might contribute at all, so that when he finally does, it seems wholly benevolent. It comes in a moment where your goals are exactly aligned, and indisputably noble.

It's a waiting game. A classic of his, harkening back to stories we've heard time and again about Fen'harel and traps.

As Felassan tells it in the Masked Empire:

Fen'Harel was captured by the hunting goddess, Andruil. He had angered her by hunting the halla without her blessing, and she tied him to a tree and declared that he would have to serve in her bed for a year and a day to pay her back. But as she made camp that night, the dark god Anaris found them, and Anaris swore that he would kill Fen'Harel for crimes against the Forgotten Ones. Andruil and Anaris decided that they would duel for the right to claim Fen'Harel. He called out to Anaris during the fight and told him of a flaw in Andruil's armor just above the hip, and Anaris stabbed Andruil in the side, and she fell. Then Fen'Harel told Anaris that he owed the Dread Wolf for the victory and ought to get his freedom. Anaris was so affronted by Fen'Harel's audacity that he turned and shouted insults at the prisoner, and so he did not see Andruil, injured but alive, rise behind him and attack with her great bow. Anaris fell with a golden arrow in his back, badly injured, and while both gods slumbered to heal their wounds, Fen'Harel chewed through his ropes and escaped.

He goads his enemies into fighting each other for his benefit. Anaris, who had hunted him, succeeds with Fen'Harel's advice, exploiting a weakness he could only see with his aid. In turn, Anaris himself is left exposed. The victory goes to Fen'Harel, who has now dispatched two enemies at once and cleverly won his freedom.

He who was both Creator and Forgotten One. Who could walk amongst both as kin, and who in the end turned his back on them all.

Another tale:

The god Fen'Harel was asked by a village to kill a great beast. He came to the beast at dawn, and saw its strength, and knew it would slay him if he fought it. So instead, he shot an arrow up into the sky. The villagers asked Fen'Harel how he would save them, and he said to them, 'When did I say that I would save you?' And he left, and the great beast came into the village that night and killed the warriors, and the women, and the elders. It came to the children and opened its great maw, but then the arrow that Fen'Harel had loosed fell from the sky into the great beast's mouth, and killed it. The children of the village wept for their parents and elders, but still they made an offering to Fen'Harel of thanks, for he had done what the villagers had asked. He had killed the beast, with his cunning, and a slow arrow that the beast never noticed.

Felassan is everywhere in the Crossroads, in memories, in regrets, in notes that speak to a time you can barely fathom and traces of a friendship that is never once brought up by Solas directly (to my knowledge at least). I think Felassan serves a lot of purposes; he's a window into history, into Solas' mind and ideals, someone who challenges moments of ruthlessness but is loyal, an advisor who keeps Solas grounded even as he pushes him to become something larger than he is, a lingering notion of a loss that you can never really see the full scale of, and so on. And I think, too, that he's written carefully to be a meaningful presence from the rebellion without explicitly spoiling what eventually happens to him, which I wouldn't be surprised if was a legit consideration made for people who might go back and read the Masked Empire after dav lol- in the same way that Trespasser only really spoils the book if you already know what happens.

But for me, every note signed with his name is almost a tongue-in-cheek warning about what's to come. Felassan. A slow arrow, fired apparently mockingly into the sky, only to strike true when it's least expected. A solution executed with neither kindness nor explanation, serving first and foremost the interests of the one who fired it. Felassan's presence in the game ever so slightly encodes a reminder of who you're actually dealing with and what his core tenants are, whether as an ally or an adversary. You only know if you know, but it doesn't seem an accident to me that this reoccurring name of a general who shaped himself in honor of the Dread Wolf's unorthodox cleverness is so key to these traces of Fen'Harel's past, despite, again, never directly being discussed.

Anyways, to Rook. First, I gotta give a shoutout to Bryony Corrigan, whose voice I used for mine- she honestly made the game for me, especially in moments where I felt unsure of it. I love Rook, I love how they're written, and I love how they're performed. While a complete blank slate protagonist can be really fun, I find putting myself as a player in conversation with limitations given by the game really fun and interesting, and often surprising! And I do feel there's still plenty of flexibility.

My perspective on the relationship between Rook and Solas in Veilguard is specific to how I played of course, and I haven't seen other versions of their dynamic at this point to compare so I can't speak to them. But my experience was as such:

I didn't come into the game wanting to intentionally antagonize him. If he rose at me, I rose at him- and those moments of tension were really, really fun. But I tried to accept what he gave me with a fairly open mind. Skepticism, sure, but also the knowledge that ultimately, we both wanted Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain gone, and he knew them better than I did.

It was really gratifying, then, to see our rocky partnership evolve over time into what seemed like a genuine respect. But it didn't really feel straightforward to me either. For example, the conversation before Weisshaupt held a lot of weight for me: listening to him tell that chilling tale about undermining an enemy with persistent laughter and finding that 'Do whatever it takes to remove those who oppose you' was something we came out aligned on was.... There was an element of foreboding to that. Like, I had found myself actively trying to impress him here! And feeling good when it seemed like I had, but uneasy about how I had done it, even when I agreed with what I'd said.

And of course, after that comes Arlathan. Solas' big hero moment. This is the point in the game where our alliance finally felt comfortable to me. The conversation in the fade after was the first time that it really seemed like we were on even ground. And the game- not just Solas- told me here outright that I had earned his respect! After that, I didn't consider betrayal a possibility for a moment. Honestly, I barely even considered him an antagonist at all, because he had become a partner instead! I was expecting something clever down the line, but I wasn't worried about it hurting me. Our disagreements had been set aside, and the goal of his that I had initially opposed had been so thoroughly usurped I had forgotten that he was even pursuing it. And yes, that's perhaps naivety on my part, but I was so distracted by that not at all being the main plot that I forgot that it actually still was. Which is the whole point, right? He waits until your head is turned the other way to strike.

All this to say, my reaction when you kill Ghilan'nain and Solas uses the instability of the Veil to force you into his prison went beyond shock and confusion. It wasn't until well into his villain monologue that I was able to accept that he had betrayed me at all- having been thus far trying desperately to convince myself that the sequence I was seeing was Elgar'nan playing mind games in retaliation, and not actually Solas.

That prison moment is his Slow Arrow. You are Anaris to Elgar'nan's Andruil, the dagger the chink in her armor, and Ghilan'nain's death the golden arrow striking you in the back.

The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap.

And I should say, I was coming at this all from the meta perspective of someone who loves Solas and empathizes with him and has never seen him as irredeemable or evil- and I, the player, who believed that all game and is ultimately satisfied with the resolution I got- felt hoodwinked as fuck in this moment lmao!!

There's a line in the prison that Varric has about it being easier for Solas to play the villain when he knows he's causing harm- so I do think he plays up his sinisterness here on purpose. But it's such a slap in the face coming straight off of "You have earned the respect of the Dread Wolf." A true and profound betrayal, at least for me.

And it doesn't stop there! His trickster maneuvers and half-truths aren't done until the credits roll. I love that when you meet again, he is nothing but apologies. He makes every concession- that Varric was a good man, that every victory in this fight has been yours, that he needs you and not the other way around, that he was wrong and made mistakes and betrayed people who never deserved it. And of course, we know from experience at this point that this won't stop him from doing it again anyways. But he never holds back from placing the blame on himself. Agreeing with you. Telling you you're right, and that Elgar'nan must be stopped. He only ever says things that are true. Things that are aligned with your point of view.

"[The veil] will never come down by my hand." Well, yes. Because it will fall on its own when Elgar'nan is dead. You won't hardly have to do anything at that point, Solas, will you?

It doesn't matter if Rook isn't falling for it, because if they don't accept his partnership, they lose! That's it! It's the same as it was at the start, but with the added sting of knowing it probably won't work out in your favor this time.

I remember before launch John Epler saying that Solas sees himself in Rook, which really echoes throughout the whole game for me. There are some ways you could say Solas seems opposite to Rook- and of course this can wax and wane depending on roleplaying choices, but the central conceit of Rook as Varric's recruit is that they are a specialist in being willing to act. And on the surface at least, that's kind of counter to Solas' Slow Arrow, right? Blunt force versus delayed gratification. But not entirely! Because every backstory we have for Rook revolves around a kind of heroism that is unorthodox enough to have left you ultimately punished for it. Like yeah, yeah, you saved some lives.... The optics were kinda bad though, so maybe you could go on a sabbatical for a while?

Rook is, from the start, an unconventional and unsung hero, admonished by some for ruffling feathers that they shouldn't have in pursuit of a noble goal. Not unlike Fen'Harel.

I find, too, that there's kind of a nesting doll of parallels around Rook and Solas as foils that the whole story hinges on:

We see Solas, his regrets plastered on every wall, each of them tied to Mythal. At every turn he seems to warn her that this is not the right path, but he follows her down it anyways, until he is left with nothing but an overwhelming need to fix what they have broken.

We see Felassan, who still wears Mythal's vallaslin on his face, challenging Solas' judgement and methods, but still standing by him through the rebellion, after the Veil, for however many thousands of years they slept. Ultimately, in the Masked Empire, the thing that makes him falter is his admiration for someone else's pursuit of freedom. His admiration for Briala.

"I suspect you'll hate this, but she reminds me of-"

Solas is Rook. Solas is Briala. Upstarts, flawed defenders, people who are made into leaders because of their willingness to fight for something. Who see injustice and cannot rest.

Solas is Felassan, the devoted general. One who pushes against his orders but cannot deny them. Someone who loves the cause, but more than that is dedicated to the person who champions it. A voice of reason who, in the end, turns away.

Solas is Mythal, a pragmatic leader, responsible for uncountable deaths. Someone who has relied on partners and power structures that have led her down a dark path, partners whose mistakes in their pursuit of power have become her own. Partners who in the end betray her.

Solas is trapped in his regrets because they are not all his. He struggles with having been failed and with how he has failed others, and in his mind the two become conflated. He carries these contradictory roles on his back- perpetrator and victim, betrayer and betrayed- and cannot see how to overcome them. He is ultimately freed by Mythal's absolution because the foremost factor in his crusade is not belief but guilt.

The ends have to justify the means, because there is no other way he can live with himself. And at every step, he is trying to redeem Mythal as much as he is trying to redeem himself.

He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He wanted to give wisdom, not orders. I will always follow where you go.

He left a scar when he burned her off his face.

It was all for her. It was always for her.

Solas' duplicity is unending, but so is his devotion. And there is such an earnestness to a Rook, always betrayed, that sees and empathizes with that and uses it to free him.

* I will say that during the game I was definitely wishing you could show your hand to him a little more and press him about his memories prior to the endgame (and separate from this I have quibbles with the impact of some of those memory reveals- like wrt the delivery just not feeling as weighty as I would like. The payoff is absolutely still there in the end, it just felt to me like they were too nonchalantly getting a ton of info out that had to be established moving forward, despite these being like earthshattering reveals that people have Correctly (!!!!) theorized about for up to 15 years). That being said, in retrospect it would have lessened the impact of the finale to have pressed Solas about, for example, his relationship to Mythal prior to absolutely pulling the rug out from under him with it at the 11th hour. And additionally, it's a structural nightmare because you can uncover the memories at almost any point in the story, and you don't have constant access to Solas to chat with him about them. Which you shouldn't imo, in service to the story being told!! But it's also true that early on I found scenes with Solas super gripping, and scenes with my team often...not. And that was initially disheartening, but developed positively over time on all fronts once the game didn't have to worry about setting things up. So, I did wish for more here at first, but I've revised my opinion now that I can see the whole arc.

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

I've been thinking a lot today about how easily people condemn Solas for making the choices he did or for so regularly refusing the help and love his friends or a romanced Lavellan extended to him and how that's a very easy thing to do from behind a screen in a fictional game where you are able to (with very few exceptions) curate a world in which your allies are loyal and your decisions will go the way you'd like them to.

And yeah, it's a game and that's kind of the point, but if I were to look at it a little more deeply (and who am I kidding, I got back on this website exclusively to process the aftermath of Veilguard) I'd say that there's so much to be found in wondering if the protagonists in any of the other games would have fared better in similar conditions.

Apparently I can't stop making long posts, so buckle in.

What would Morrigan have become in a world where the Warden never stumbled upon her cottage with Flemeth, if she never got the chance to see more of the world and decide what she wanted out of it? With just her mother (who, coincidentally in this Solas-y discussion is also kind of Mythal) and no support, who is to say what she would have unleashed upon the Korcari Wilds one day when the confines of her cage became too much?

What about Leliana? She, too, suffered at the hands of a very controlling abuser who tried to convince her that one lifestyle was all that her future held. What do we think she would have become if not for a chance meeting in Lothering with someone who could help her face down the woman that molded her?

Fenris, a character MANY people are just fine with was incredibly ready to kill a mage on sight if need be, no questions asked. Where do we think his story goes if he doesn't have someone in his corner early on enough in the game? If he doesn't get caught by Danarius, he's almost certainly going to end up on a murder spree, and he doesn't even have Justice whispering in his head to do it.

Cullen. Just all of him. It's an absolute miracle he hasn't snapped by the time you encounter him in Inquistion, and even then you get the benefit of intervening at a critical point in his story several times over.

Almost every other character could face this analysis and I think we'd reach a result that suggests perhaps the only thing keeping them lovable is your playable character's investment in their well-being.

Enter Solas. We don't meet him when he's twenty to thirty something and on the precipice of falling down a dark path. He's been there for literal millennia already, and with the exception of one close friend he's been alone. And not even Felassan is enough because of the years Mythal had prior to that friendship to make Solas exactly who she needed him to be.

I've had shit friends before that aren't just good at isolating people, they're naturals. I barely made it through high school with my mental health in place (in fact, looking back, it almost certainly wasn't). When you think you've got a true friend and they need something of you, it's so easy to blindly follow them because you think your love is enough to mark someone's soul as trustworthy. Solas doesn't learn that lesson until it's too late, and even when he does he can't turn back: the spirit that was once Wisdom has been exposed to several of the worst ancient elves to ever exist and now he has to stand his ground rather than let it all fall, because that is what Pride would dictate. Admitting that the person you gave your love and labor and time to is a monster is hard. And he was alone.

Give me Morrigan after centuries with her mother. Show me Leliana after the years have become a blur and the only voice whispering in her ear is Marjolaine's. Show me the innocent mages that don't make it through if all Fenris has for years and years and years are the scars Danaris left him and the means to make more. Show me Cullen if he stays in a chain of command under a Knight Commander who knows exactly what he fears and holds it over his head for so long he forgets what it was like to be an excited kid begging the templars for training because he just wants to keep people safe.

We get companions in these games who are broken by the time they're twenty. Solas has spent thousands of years in servitude to a cause of a woman he believed to be his only friend. He doesn't know who he is without her influence, anymore, only exists physically in the first place because she asked it of him and then asked again and again and again. He doesn't have a witty band of merry fools to pull him out of that cycle. He has Felassan, but he has him during war after war after war in the hopes of freeing others from the very situation that torments him.

Trauma from war affects everyone touched by it, nevermind the fact that Solas is actively responsible for saving the lives of thousands and feels each life like a weight around his neck because maybe he can save them like he cannot save himself. We should always be worried about the people trying to do the most good. Who is looking out for them? Why are they so determined to help others? Could it be that it's something they wish others had done for them?

Solas certainly feels comradery with Felassan from working together to free slaves from the very people he helped put in power because Mythal told him it would be okay only to leave him with the pieces, but even the Solas that Felassan knows has been turned into an attack dog shying away from the touch of the very person it desires to be near above all others by the time their relationship forms.

The fact that Solas is able to try and show the Inquisitor who he is at all is a miracle as far as I'm concerned, a sign of a peaceful spirit of Wisdom who loves knowledge for the sake of it finally sensing that there might be a chance to embrace its nature again.

Yeah, if you give him what he has come to expect from people with power, if you let near-absolute power over the masses corrupt you, he's going to bristle and try to shut your inquisitor down.

But if you show him even the smallest bit of kindness? If you treat him like the starving wolf he talks about and feed him instead of fighting him? God, it shatters his entire existence.

It's called a cycle of abuse for a reason. Finding friendship, finding the love of your long-ass life can be the first step in realizing there's better out there. But the time it takes to learn that? When you're too weary to even reach out for help in the first place and afraid of every kind word or gesture because you've never known such tenderness (on a platonic OR romantic level, both matter so so much) before?

Part of the compelling tragedy of Solas is that it's almost Orpheus-like how he knows what he has been made into and still cannot stop himself from yearning for more, from turning around to see if just this once something has changed. You can't convince me that he hasn't spent years hoping that someone will hear the legend of the Dread Wolf and see it for what it is, a leash the Evanuris created for Mythal's whipping boy to ensure that even if he ever escapes them, the people he fought to save will hate him. And I cannot blame him for the shock and terror that consumes him when he realizes someone finally has.

You give me any of dragon age companions after the amount of time Solas spent under Mythal's thumb without your character's intervention and you tell me how that looks.

You tell me if they're able to change at the first sign of something that feels too good to be true.

And then, I want you to tell me they're any less worthy of trying to save, especially when you know how good their best can be.

Solas might be hard for some fans to love, but it's only because he serves as the perfect representation of the beast we are all capable of becoming when the love that sustains us, assuming we receive any at all, is laced with poison.

The journey out of that place, out of a literal prison of regret, is brutal, and I'm thrilled that even with the many things about Veilguard I'm still struggling with, we have the chance to let Solas try again with the help of those who love him not because he never fell down, but because they believe in the beauty of a future where he gets back up again.

[liaragaming]

I've seen some posts with people feeling like Mythal was more important to Solas than Lavellan, and I just...

Mythal represents Solas's regets. It's not that he loved Mythal more. It's that he did such terrible things for her. And after she died, he felt like it was all for nothing. And he couldn't let it all be for nothing. Because where does that leave him with all those terrible things?

It seems like people wanted Lavellan to be the catalyst that changed things for Solas, and I'm sorry, but that was never going to happen. No matter how much she loved him, that would never be enough for him to let go of the pain he carried.

This is exactly what the Crestwood scene shows! He brings her there because he realizes how much he loves her. Because he decides he's going to leave the past behind him. And only when he reaches the very moment of his confession does he realize he can't let things go. Not even for her.

This was true in Inquisition! This was true in Trespasser! Lavellan is not enough to save him. If people feel like Veilguard spit in their face for reinforcing that... I'm sorry, but this was always the case.

Mythal is the catalyst behind Solas's regrets. He took a body for her. He made a weapon to sunder the titans for her (and the elven people). He made the Veil as retribution for her death (and to lock away the Blight), and then he wakes up to find the world destroyed in a different way and still dealing with the damn Blight. All of his choices feel like one giant mistake after another. And he has to fix it.

He doesn't give it up because he "loved Mythal more" or because she "mattered more" than Lavellan. But because she's the only one who can release him from the choices he made at her request.

Lavellan is there to pick up the pieces and say, "I understand the pain that you are going through that's driven you to do these terrible things, and I love you anyway because I see the person that you truly are underneath."

She sees him. She's the only one who ever truly has. Mythal certainly can't claim that. But Mythal is Solas's past, and it's his past that he needs to let go before he can embrace his future.

Solas's character and motivations and relationship with Lavellan didn't change between Inquisition and Veilguard. It's always been this way.

I think people were wanting a love conquers all story. And Solas's story has always been so incredibly tragic because love wasn't enough from the very beginning.

That doesn't mean Lavellan can't "save" him. I still hold the romance ending is the only one where he goes happy. Lavellan gets to be his future instead of one where he faces atonement alone.

And Solas does actually choose her. He tells her where he's going is terrible, and she tells him nothing will be terribleas long as they are together. And he accepts her love for him.

She can make the same plea in Trespasser, and he rejects it! He tells her he can't take her with him. He doesn't want her weighed down by the same regrets he carries. Only once he's freed of those regrets can he accept her desire to walk beside him and forge something new.

Tbh, if he wanted Mythal, Morrigan’s standing right there. Solas doesn’t love her more or care about her more. He's just in pain. And it's pain Mythal put there. He needs her to release him from it.

Solas has suffered abuse and trauma, and just like in the real world, love often isn't enough to just "fix" that. Solas needed closure, and that's what Mythal gives him. That doesn't make his love for Lavellan any less. I'd even argue it's Lavellan post the events of Veilguard that help him heal. But he needed that closure before healing could start.

[girlwithadragonheart]

I need to yap desperately about one single gripe I have with this game. MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD read at your own discretion

The first half is me ranting about how much certain things mean to me and how impacted I was, and the actual gripe comes closer to the end.

I'll preface this by saying this post is about Varric's death and my rage and despair regarding it, but more so about my Rook's.

I've seen people who said they picked up on the hints about whatnot, who knew before the Fade Prison. I was not one of those people. I was so relieved when I saw him after the Prologue that I didn't think twice, because I knew that it would destroy me the second shit started going wrong.

I was already not having a good time when I started the game simply because Varric was getting older. I don't handle aging well or death, and his design showing his age, and the comments he would make about "getting too old for this" just made my heart break.

And then shit got worse. I sobbed disgustingly when that knife went into Varric's chest.

After Rook woke up from talking to Solas and she heard Varric, I was so gods damned relieved. And my Rook was better taken care of by Varric in that year she spent with him than she was in the rest of her entire life.

I cried from the end of Ghilan'nain's fight until the romance scene and on and off after that. I got so used to visiting Varric just to be comforted by his presence. Inquisition was the biggest part of my life for a year and a half when I was just a kid.

I did really bad middle school age writing for it but regardless of the quality, those characters were built up in my head becoming even more than they were in the game. Varric was my biggest support character through everything I was going through at the time.

I don't talk about it much, but I didn't have a great childhood, and I know a lot of people didn't, but I coped with it through writing and video games. Varric was the one supporting me through the abuse I suffered and writing was the way I processed how bad things really were.

When Rook was in the prison she said "What am I going to find here?" And Varric said "I think you already know, kid." I DIDN'T until he said that. The second he said that my entire chest tightened and I just said "No" out loud as I watched Rook find his body.

Now for my real complaint!!!

Rook never gets the chance to grieve Varric. They go from talking to him every day to finding out he's dead and it was all a lie. I have personally never been more fucking pissed at Solas than I am now. But Rook comes back and they have that kind of "closing off" scene with Varric's empty bed (which was so hard to go through btw). And then they fuck their pookie LIKE I CANNOT BE THE ONLY ONE UPSET ABT THAT

FYM I gotta find out my dad is dead and then Rook is up for boning like there's no fucking way unless it's to cope. And at least pertaining to the Lucanis romance, Rook is processing everything that happened and they can say "So much has happened, I just don't know how to feel."

And rather than getting to process that in some kind of way, the devs said nah this scene serves one singular purpose, and Lucanis says "I do" and then dicks them down.

Personally, I felt very dismissed despite being overjoyed about finally having the romance scene, I couldn't even enjoy it with everything that happened prior.

Rook deserved the chance to completely break down after everything they went through. Tbh i don't know how they kept it together. Varric said "don't get all misty eyed" and i thought to myself that's way too delicate a term for what's happening here, I was fully ugly crying.

Fuck your "I had a good run" I still need you bitch.

All this to say I'm very upset, and I'm running my second playthrough and every time I look at, hear, or talk to Varric I tear up again. Wtf Bioware.

Rook should've gotten the chance to actually talk about what Solas did to them, especially in the sense that he made them believe Varric was still there. Or at least get to properly grieve the person who was their closest friend for a long time.

I have very strong feelings about this obviously

[pavus]

UNEARTH — emmrook.

Words: 2738. Characters: Emmrich Volkarin x Rook — Anais Ingellvar. Rating: Teen. Summary: Trying to sleep when injured is a near-impossible thing, but with Emmrich's assistance, Rook finds the comfort she needs to get some rest. AO3 LINK.

Anais shut her eyes as she sank - carefully - down onto her bedroll, favoring one shoulder above the other. Still, she felt the pulled muscle in her chest stretch as she eased herself back. It sent an ache along the length of her collarbone and into her sternum, a warm pain radiating throughout her upper torso. Her breath caught in the quiet of her tent — a strained whisper of surprise.

The group did not spend much time outside of the Lighthouse, not with Solas's extensive network of eluvians close at-hand, but on that night, they had no other choice.

A wrenched arm and a broken bone stopped them in their tracks, kept them from returning home, but luckily, neither she nor Harding had been infected with the Blight during the battle. The same could be said of Emmrich, who'd spent the better part of the afternoon and the beginning of a tumultuous night tending to their scout's leg.

Lace was no longer suffering from her injury, at least, and the gentle hum of Emmrich's caretaking had quieted hours ago, leaving behind only the crackle of a soft-spoken fire and the inobtrusive song of nature as it settled in to sleep, just as they were.

Propped up against her pack and the well-loved pillow she often carried with her, Anais shifted, turning, fussing with her weary limbs in an attempt to find a comfortable position. She sighed, frustrated, but even that made her chest spasm. Even after so many months of training to improve her stamina, the slightest injury felt like the end of something. She was no physical ideal, no honed image of health. She was just a foolish young woman who'd whipped her staff around in a panic and pulled something.

Typical scholar bullsh.it.

How exhausting.

Anais pinched her eyes shut again in hopes of forcing the issue of sleep. Behind her eyelids, she saw the faint glow of the campfire. From her right ear, a muffled and indistinct hum, and from her left, a clearer song, as Arlathan's unstable magic coiled through the air around her. Gooseflesh rose on her arms from both the forest's ancient suffering and her fresher, clearer pain, like a bell in a storm.

There would be no sleeping, then, not without the aid of alcohol or a particularly potent potion.

Instead of reaching for either, she sought out a different method. A tangle of words occurred to her — a broken Nevarran lullaby that she could barely recall. There were spotted beetles' wings, each of them numbering differently, and a child that sought to set them in a row. The lullaby was a maze of a thing, and without remembering the song to the letter, Anais lost herself inside of it.

She was so lost, in fact, that she didn't hear Emmrich clear his voice outside of her tent. So lost that her lack of a response led to him poking his head inside, equal parts curious and worried.

"Anais?"

The woman in question sat suddenly upright — more surprised than cautious — and she let go of a string of curses that she muffled into the cup of her palm. A tremor followed the curve of her spine as she curled over the throb in her chest, but she bit her lip to keep from uttering the pained sound that clawed at her throat.

Healing a broken bone required an incredible amount of magic, and she would not demand more from their professor, not for something that even she would be able to mend if her reservoir of mana hadn't been so depleted by the fight they'd stumbled into that afternoon.

But he would insist.

Even in the shadowed half-dark of her tent, she saw in his eyes that he would insist.

"I… apologize for the profanity, professor," Anais murmured, blinking hot tears onto her lashes rather than her flushed cheeks. She smoothed her hand over her face from her lips to her brows and rubbed the warm skin beneath her bangs. "I was just drifting off."

Emmrich swept away her concerns and her lies with a mere flick of his wrist.

"An impressive feat, considering our surroundings," he offered before glancing around the… intimate interior of her tent. With barely enough room for one and a half grown adults to stretch out comfortably, there was nowhere near enough space to stand for someone quite so lanky. "Our fearless leader really ought to be granted more comfortable lodgings."

Despite the tension in her chest, Anais felt the corners of her mouth twitching into something resembling a smile.

"Do you intend to carry it?"

Emmrich's gaze circled back to hers. His brows rose. "Oh, I couldn't imagine."

Her laugh was a quick little thing, but from the gleam in his eyes, she saw that he hadn't missed it.

"Here, sit to my right."

Anais shifted even as he opened his mouth to stop her, gingerly pivoting her body onto her right side and scooting to give him room enough to sit. She was still getting used to maneuvering around her hearing loss, and the enchanted aid she'd been given once she recovered from her fever did not play nice with the ambient magic that dwelled in Arlathan forest.

She barred her arm over her chest, hoping to stabilize the muscle as she moved and somewhat succeeding. "Before you offer, though," she began as he let himself down onto the far side of her bedroll, grunting under her breath as she shifted her generous hips onto the other, "I will have to decline any offers of healing."

"I —"

"Not until you've rested, at the very least," Anais amended.

Emmrich tutted, but Anais felt herself more charmed than chastened.

"Such interruptions and each of them unnecessary. I came to offer you my healing in the morning," Emmrich explained, "and to see if there was anything you required in the interim."

He drew no attention to it, but Anais saw him lift his chin in a way he never did when speaking to the others, as if he was hoping to pour his words down into her good ear so that his intentions wouldn't be lost to the bad. Something about his unspoken efforts left her feeling even warmer than before. There was no shortage of butterflies teasing the lining of her stomach, either. They were worryingly plentiful.

But she was not so inexperienced with speaking that she couldn't open her mouth without spilling her wanting all over the bedroll between them.

"I cannot think of a single thing, truthfully, save for the pleasure of your company."

Emmrich's eyes widened, if only a little. One day, they would know each others' steps. One day, every compliment and every promise and every smile wouldn't be a surprise. There was a comfort in that, in the guarantee of a… like-minded friendship.

Without his wrists' usual adornments, his movements did not clink or glimmer. He stretched his hands out, long, elegantly tapered fingers spreading, testing them for tremors only to find them gravely still. Even hours of healing was not enough to weaken him. And he wasn't even half as occupied with stamina training as she was.

In another world, at another time, she might have been embarrassed that a man some thirty years her senior was in finer shape than she was, but on that night, she was more inclined to watch him than worry about the state of herself.

She was too tired to complain.

He thumbed over the opposite wrist as a thoughtful expression settled on his face, the digit's tip sliding beneath the stiff wrist of his sleeve. "Were you having some difficulty finding your sleep, then?"

This time, Anais's sigh was implied.

If she didn't want the pain to return with a vengeance, she knew that she couldn't be so generous with her sighs. And she knew that she'd been found out, as well. He knew she hadn't been drifting off, that he hadn't interrupted a moment of her sleep. There was no relaxation to be found alongside pain, not without the intervention of magic or medicine.

Rather than responding with a simple yes, Anais bobbed her head in a nod.

"There may not be much room for us to share," Emmrich said, his voice slow and softly nasal as he settled down at her side, more easily than she had by half, "but if it is company you want in your hour of need, it is company you shall have."

Anais could not stop herself.

Leaning against the butt of her pack, she peered over at him and murmured a quiet, "Not need so much as want."

"In your hour of want, then."

Anais's dark eyes drifted shut, but she did not find the sleep that was so adeptly avoiding her. Instead, she spoke, murmuring a question as their bodies anchored nearer to each other: "How is Lace's leg?"

"The bone is set, and the muscle is in better shape than yours." Emmrich's report was a gentle thing. It lacked in an abundance of detail given the hour, but there was a precision that she appreciated. He always knew how to deliver news. "I planned to return to the Lighthouse in the morning and request Davrin's aid in bringing her back."

Without opening her eyes, Anais asked, "And what of me?"

"I thought you would require a great deal of my attention in the morning, hence my offer, but the pain is almost entirely from inflammation." She felt only a hint of pressure on her collar as his fingertips followed the fire-hot swatch of skin beneath the open collar of her tunic. "But I believe I am more than capable of healing you now."

His skin was soft. His fingertips bore no calluses save for the ones gained from decades of gripping a quill. He smelled of campfire smoke and medicinal balm, of faded sweat and a perfume that barely clung to his clothes.

Anais exhaled slowly.

Only when she took in another breath and her chest pressed flush against Emmrich's touch did she feel a tremble in his hand — the hand that had been so steady mere moments before.

"Emmrich?"

She opened her eyes to find him nearer to her than he had been before. No more than a foot separated their faces. Just enough light crept through the tent's walls to illuminate the sharp planes of his face, though the finer details were lost to shadow. His eyes were on her, though, and his lips were parted. Those two details, she kept circling back to.

His fingertips settled almost weightlessly against her collar. After a hard swallow and a moment of gathered strength, they no longer trembled.

"Yes, Anais?"

"Did you come in here to heal me, or did you come in here to kiss me?"

Both, Emmrich responded without using his words.

A faint golden glow bled from his fingertips into her skin and the wounded muscle underneath it, but the relief that followed was nothing compared to the spike of excitement that shot through her the moment his lips pushed into hers in the half-dark. He sucked in a sharp breath as they made contact, moments before his mouth opened again to kiss eagerly over her upper lip.

Just before the kiss, they had been far enough apart that their bodes only touched at the knees, but the distance was soon remedied as Anais squirmed forward, her pain earlier nothing more than a faded ache. Her thigh slid between his. Her belly tucked against the pliant curve of his skinny body. And her chest pushed flush against his own, with his hand still pinned in between them.

Her teeth brushed against his lip before biting down, and she felt his reaction more than heard it as his hips rocked forward against the soft fat of her hip.

Emmrich's mouth shifted the moment she allowed him his freedom, following the curve of her chin and the broad line of her jaw before demanding another kiss and another kiss and another. The hand pressed between their chests kneaded at the tender flesh above her breast rather than beneath, thumbing against the collar he'd been so intent on touching before sliding farther downward from her chest to her waist.

"Anais."

Hearing her name on his tongue left her breathless, unable to kiss him again as she leaned her forehead against his and sucked in a hungry breath. She held onto his jaw, half-cradling his cheek in her hand, as she struggled to clear the haze that had filled her mind from the healing as much as his mouth.

"Anais," Emmrich whispered to her, his nose brushing against hers as he waited patiently for her to recover. "My intention was to apologize for not tending to you tonight and leaving you languishing in such pain, but it appears… I could not help myself."

The hand poised on her waist slid around to the small of her back, and his fingers curled into her tunic, gripping at her, coaxing her closer. There was no space that remained between them, but that did not stop him from attempting to move nearer to her. And that did not stop her from encouraging it, her hips turning into him and above him as she pressed him back against her pillow.

Long, dark hair hung over her shoulder and pooled across his narrow chest, making it look every bit as if he was drowning in her.

"I could not bear to see you in such a wounded state," Emmrich whispered. He lifted his fingers to the hair that spilled over him, brushing his fingertips through the near-black locks and across the long line of her ear. "Nor could I bear to see you unkissed." A smile touched the corner of his thin lips. "Apparently."

Anais leaned forward, past his hand, and pushed her face against the carefully buttoned collar that laid against his long neck.

When he spoke, she couldn't hear the crackle and pop of the fire. She couldn't feel the strange whisper of elven magic against her skin. As close as she was to him, Emmrich was all there was — his scent, the movement of his chest, the sound of his breathing. Weariness tugged at her shoulders, at her limbs, weighing her down against his chest.

"Oh, darling," he exhaled. He pushed her hair away from her face and gathered it close to his own again. "You must rest."

Anais moved to protest, moved to kiss him again, but found the fingertips of his free hand nestled against her lips, stopping her just short of her goal. His brow pinched sharply upward before he gave a shake of his head.

"I would like nothing more than to indulge the both of us for hours…"

Anais strained forward, her mouth moving in the shape of an ardent, "Please," against his fingers.

"… but we must think of our companion."

Wanting was a selfish thing, but without the pain in her chest, she felt as if she deserved to be selfish, if only a little. But she also knew that Emmrich would not budge once he set down his foot, no matter how much he wanted what she offered, no matter how warm the sound of her voice had made him. And so, she relented.

Not once since meeting Emmrich Volkarin had she considered the path they would take towards each other — that pain would lead to relief would lead to a fire that threatened to turn her belly to ash.

"On one condition," Anais murmured as she settled down by his side. Her cheek found the curve of his shoulder, and she wound an arm across his tapered waist. His fingers wove into her hair before rubbing at the scalp beneath.

"Mm?"

"Talk to me." She buried her nose against him. Her next words were muffled, but making them out wasn't difficult. "Until I fall asleep."

Where she laid her head, Anais could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

Emmrich did not want to sleep any more than she did.

His lips found the top of her head.

And until she fell asleep, he spoke — of a winding Nevarran lullaby, with beetles and their numbered wings and the child who sought to keep them all in line. He took her hand and led her through the maze, and she swore to herself that she would never forget their order.

[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

I can’t imagine what waking up in the Fade is like for both Lavellan and Solas. I feel like, based on the BlueSky response, that them getting to the Lighthouse somehow is a bit of a given.

Solas is badly hurt. Like. I don’t know how he’s standing before they cross over but you can bet he doesn’t last long like that. Lavellan drags that man there. Or. Maybe in a stroke of cosmic kindness, it’s exactly where they find themselves when they step through.

It takes hours to peel that man out of his armor and tend to all the cuts. There seem to be thousands. He’s too weak to stop her and he weeps when she kisses each one, not minding bloody lips. Lots of talking with and without words for them both in that quiet time of mending and reconnecting. But finally, Solas is clean, tended and in his bed, in his home.

Lavellan is finally there to watch over him. She can rest. He’s safe. And she’s with him. It’s a miracle. So she lies down where she can crook her head into his shoulder and not press down on him, and they both sleep.

And then the waking up.

Solas is sure it was all just a dream. A lovely one. Made of his deepest horrors and wishes. Finds himself in the Lighthouse and just “Ah. I became drunk and passed out. Again. *cough*.” But then he hears breathing near his ear, quiet and rhythmic. Someone sleeping.

It hurts but he turns his head and… no. This is still a dream. This is impossible. He’d know that scent on her hair anywhere. Who else would keep a protective hand on his shoulder as they slept? This can’t be real…

Then it’s Lavellan’s turn. She’s pulled from sleep by the sound of Solas on the verge of hyperventilating and she starts awake, terrified that he’s in pain or worse. “Vhenan? What is it? What hurts?”

Only to be devoured by the most tender of gazes. He doesn’t say a word or move a muscle. He’s too awed. Light comes through the window as if by his bidding and sets her aglow with all the heavenly radiance that befits her. And he can only stare.

“S-Solas?” So she leans down to check on him. Is he so weak that he can’t say? Worry and fear claw at her as she touches his chest, his neck, his face. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

She can’t know what this feels like to him. Her fingers seem to reach down past the flesh and bone, finding his spirit, mending the tears and rips suffered over the millennia at each careful press of a fingertip.

By the time her hands get to his face, Solas’ eyes are trying to roll back in his head of sheer delight. But then she gives a quiet hum of amusement and presses a kiss to his forehead.

The man is now good and boneless. And Lavellan can only smile, a bit pridefully, at how much he obviously enjoys just the barest touches. Her Wolf. Her Man. Her Heart. She’s wanted for so long to simply be free to love him as much as she wanted to, to protect him. And now she gets to.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Hm?”

“You… asked me what was wrong, Vhenan. Absolutely nothing is wrong.”

“Then kiss me, as we have both wanted.” And after a smile that Solas can honestly say he never thought to wear again, he does.

[lizzybeeee]

Me watching my Inquisitor walk off with Solas at the end of the game like :) "aw cute ..hey if Mythal hadn't told you to stop would you have murdered her,," (I haven't played the other endings yet).

This!!!

(Obviously, not murdered her personally, but he absolutely had no qualms about doing the ritual once more - knowing the consequences of it.)

Let me preempt this by saying that I wanted there to be a happy/fulfilling ending to Solas and Lavellan. I'm not a blind hater! Just someone who finds it very hard to put my own Lavellan in the place of the 'Lavellan' provided to us in DATV.

The Solas/Lavellan relationship already was kind of iffy (power imbalance, constantly dragging her culture, removing her vallaslin/then dumping her, constantly lying to her, etc...) but DAI did a great job of making you feel sympathetic towards his plight - especially after Trespasser! He woke up in a world so divorced from his own that it was unrecognizable - the people he had done so much for were suffering from the consequences of his actions, justified as they may have been at the time (stopping the evanuris). His actions led to great suffering in the pursuit of preventing even greater suffering.

Even after we learned of his plans in Trespasser, it was very much: "cool motive, still murder."

I felt sympathetic towards Solas and the implication that we could change his mind, given to us in Trespasser, gave me hope that we would be able to convince him of another path. That he could find a place in Thedas as it is now and look to the future. That was why I chose the option to try and get through to Solas, despite knowing that his plan would lead to mass death/terror if it went ahead.

I always expected the Veil to fall at some point, but i was hoping there'd be some more nuance to it than: veil gone, demons everywhere, lots of people die. Well, I was very wrong lmao.

But, if anything, the game made me entirely unsympathetic towards Solas.

The moment he started his ritual he chose the old elven empire over Lavellan - over her family, friends, home, culture, and anything else she may have loved/valued.

And he did this twice.

He chose to pursue lowering the Veil - knowing that thousands would likely die. For all his insistence of 'minimizing the damage' he went in knowing that many more people would die because of his actions. There was no justification of stopping the evanuris this time either - no excuse of not knowing the potential consequences of his actions like the first time.

He chose to begin the ritual that ended up releasing the Elven Gods - knowing full well the risks it entailed.

He killed Varric - whether by accident or not, it was by his hand.

He chose to use blood magic to manipulate Rook into thinking that Varric was alive - puppeting his corpse around in Rook's eyes and putting his words into Varric's mouth.

He chose to manipulate, mold, and guilt Rook into the old 'switcheroo' in his mind palace/regret prison

He chose to 'free' the elven people by bringing down the Veil - regardless of their feelings about it (elven Rook can call him out on this!), never mind the consequences or ramifications of a bunch of people suddenly having their bodily autonomy overwritten by now being magic/having immortality.

He looked at the devastation caused the by the Gods and still went ahead with trying to bring down the veil again.

These are the thing he does in-game - not even mentioning making the dwarves/titans tranquil, creating the blight, started the chain of events that led to SOUTHERN THEDAS BEING DESTROYED, and taking my good gear from Inquisition!

Aside from the 'all lore leads to Solas' reveal just being really dull it also does nothing to help with making me sympathetic to him as a character. The audacity of this man to say: "it was like walking in a world of tranquil" when he fucking lobotomized the dwarves/titans is wild in retrospect.

If he didn't do the ritual at the beginning, if something else went wrong and that resulted in the God's being released, I could understand why a Lavellan would still want to get through to him. It would make sense - she could stop him from doing it again at the end too! You can still have him conflicted and torn between the restoring the past or pursuing the future - but this doesn't happen!

He never chose Lavellan in this game! Hell, it's Mythal who convinces him to stop?!! He owes her nothing! He's learned nothing from this!!! He's only stopped because Mythal 'pardoned/freed' him - once again showing that he values the ancient elves/mythal over her!!!

How impactful would it have been to have him choose Lavellan over Mythal! To show us this! Mythal, who 'crawled through the ages for a reckoning' (which was retconned to her being sad about the elves lmao) telling Solas to go through with the ritual and him touching grass and saying 'no'.

It's something I feel was wildly out of character for him as well - he never came across in DAI as being subservient to Mythal, if anything the ending cutscene gave me the impression they were equals?!

After everything he did in this game - after all we learn about what he did in the past - I had no interest in reasoning/appealing with his ass. None whatsoever. My inquisitor/Lavellan asking if Solas can be reasoned with only made me regret making that choice - perhaps other people's inquisitor's would say that, but mine would not, especially after everything that happened in game.

She came across as delusional: standing on the ruins of a blighted Minrathous, the south blighted to hell, dead all around them, blight tentacles everywhere, a gaping hole in the Fade right next to them:

Lavellan: "I forgive you! All you have to do is stop." Solas: "But I cannot."

Boom! There it is.

At this point it's not romantic, it's just sad! Sad that she's spent 10 years pining after a man who seemed to learn nothing at all from what happened in DAI.

------------------------

There should have been some sort of a dialogue option with Lavellan right before you go into the big fight - she can ask you what you think of Solas, if he's truly regretful for everything that happened, and then you can give her an answer that can 'change' her approach to Solas in the end - giving the player some agency as to how their Inquisitor would actually respond to this.

Ending One: Bye Bye Bye

Rook: "HE'S A GUY."

alternatively, "Look around you! Look at what Solas has done - what he's threatening to do even now after all of this! You gave him every chance to turn away from this path. So did Varric...and look at what he did!"

Lavellan is bitter/angry with Solas: "It seems we never were people to you after all."

Refers to him as 'Fen'harel' and not Solas - dig the knife in deeper, give us angst!

"Just go. You love the Fade, don't you? Enough to do all this - enough to kill Varric for your pride in a dead world that no longer exists. We were never 'real' to you, were we?"

Solas says his goodbyes, expresses his love, and Lavellan steps back.

Solas leaves voluntarily, his 'situation-ship very much over', to stew in his regrets for the rest of his life.

Ending Two: Bittersweet Goodbye

Rook: "Girl, it's been 10 years."

alternatively, "You loved him once, perhaps you still do even now - after all he's done - but love wasn't enough. Love does not excuse this."

Lavellan is firm with Solas, does not excuse his actions, but has a bitter sweet farewell: "I had hoped…it doesn't matter what I hoped. You made your choice - it wasn't me. It wasn't our friends. It wasn't this world. You can make a choice now - if I ever mattered you. If I, if our friends, were ever real to you."

They can have a final goodbye, a goodbye smooch, and then he can go off to the Fade.

Bittersweet ending - acknowledge what they had and then provide closure.

Ending Three: Happy Ending (?)

Rook: "He didn't mean it babe. He's tots sorry."

alternatively, "He seems to regret what's happened - I've seen his memories, his regrets. He believes this is the only path he has. Perhaps you can convince him to find another."

Default Lavellan ending basically

"There is no fate but the love we share" blah blah blah

As happy an ending as it can be when you have Lavellan fuck off to the Fade - leaving behind her life, friends, family, and whatever remains of the world for an eternity.

I'm being mean but I genuinely wanted a happy/fulfilling ending for them both too - despite the fact that this game seems to want that ending as well, it did little to convince me of that. :(

I genuinely liked Solas in DAI - despite his flaws, I thought his romance was compelling and I was hoping to be able to convince him to change/alter his path. I can see what they were trying to do with him in DATV but it's so hard to feel sympathy for him when we see/know the results of his actions. The story in this game is doing anything but convincing me to give him a 'happy ending'.

'Love' can't excuse what he did and neither would my Lavellan.

Also RIP Sandal's Prophecy about the Fade lmao

[deputyrook]

Mala Suledin Nadas -Now you must endure. (Elgar'nan/Rook. 18+)

A03 Link! Female Rook/Elgar'nan, pure smut. Rook is kidnapped by Elgar'nan and taught the value of obedience.

Word count: 5193

WARNINGS: NONCON (rape!); dubcon; mind control; hypnosis; intoxication-like effects; crying; orgasm denial/edging; forced orgasms; overstimulation; mind breaking; non-consensual tattooing. Also, cuck Solas.

Thank you so much to @blacknight-darksky for beta reading! ♥ And for all the positive attention on my preview post :)

---

The Dalish clan had made it to safety, through the Eluvian and away from Elgar’nan. 

Rook’s companions, too, had made it through the gateway to the crossroads, before- with a deafening, sickening crash- the Eluvian in Solas’ hideout had fallen and shattered.

Rook had not made it through in time. She’d felt her dread turn to panic as she watched the glass shards fall across the ground in front of her, knowing that Elgar’nan was at her back. Why had she stopped to turn around to meet his gaze? Once they’d locked eyes, he’d recognized her, and followed in pursuit. The wards Solas had enacted couldn’t hide her then, not when he’d seen her fleeing with his own two eyes. And he wasn’t about to just let her escape.

She had almost made it, and the thought of how close she’d been to getting out made her chest ache. But at least she could say her friends were safe.

Now, in a dirty, dark cell somewhere deep under the temple, she waited for him to return. Outside of the cell, she could hear the screams of the Venatori cultists, crying for mercy before they were sacrificed to Elgar’nan in the place of the Dalish elves. It just reminded Rook of how worthless his promises were. He’d promised them power, just as he’d promised it to her. Look where it had gotten the Venatori- ripped apart by a dragon.

Bad luck for them.

Part of Rook hoped, dimly, that her friends would be able to save her. But from so far away, it would take time for them to reach her here. And even beyond that, breaking her out of the heart of the temple while Elgar’nan was still here and anticipating them would be tantamount to suicide.

It might be less frightening if she knew what Elgar’nan wanted to do with her. The way he’d spoken to her while she was captured had made it sound like he wanted her alive, and that was in some ways more concerning than him simply wanting her dead.

“Well, well. Andaran Atish'an, da’len,” Elgar’nan had smiled at her when he’d found her, all teeth, like a predator. She’d had nowhere to go with the Eluvian broken, backed against the wall. A cornered animal. 

His eyes had surveyed Solas’ old hideout as he walked over to her, like he had all the time in the world. And she’d tried to fight him, but alone, after expending so much energy fighting off the Venatori-

She hadn’t stood a chance. Slamming her into the wall, his enormous fist clamped around her throat, Elgar’nan spoke to her like he was sharing a secret. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell my dear sister of your visit just yet.” Rook gasped for air, writhing in his grip and sending pulses of lightening down his arm. He didn’t react. “I am so very bad at sharing, you know. She wants to make you suffer for what you’ve done to her beloved Razikale. But I feel that would be such a waste, don’t you?”

Taking a step back, Elgar’nan released his grip on her and she fell to the ground, coughing. He waited for her response, staring down at her with his arms clasped behind his back.

Still, Rook didn’t answer. Her tongue felt leaden in her mouth, her throat dry. At her silence, Elgar’nan had chuckled, a cruel sound.

“Your heart is hammering like that of a frightened halla,” Elgar’nan had murmured, towering over her, drawing the back of one of his fingers across her cheek. Almost gently, if not for the lingering promise of violence. “Your Dread Wolf is not going to be able to help you now, I’m afraid.”

As Rook jerked away, Elgar’nan sighed, withdrawing his hand. “It’s such a shame that you continue to fight. But I will guide you, nevertheless. I will teach you how rewarding obedience can be.”

With a flash of blinding light, she’d fallen unconscious. She’d woken up in a cell. 

Now, still locked in the cell with no avenue of escape that she can find, she tried to reach out to Solas.

“Am I fucked?” She asked him mentally, with a bit of a laugh. It came out more strained than she’d intended, an almost hysterical noise. Nothing was funny about her predicament, but she didn’t know how else to deal with the situation she was in.

“Listen very carefully to me, Rook,” Solas murmured in her head. Even he sounded shaken, which was not a good sign, “He will try to break your mind. He will lie to you. He has tricks to twist you against yourself that will be very difficult to withstand. You must try. You must keep your mind your own. You must remember who you are, what you stand for. No matter what he does to break it.”

“Any tips on how to get out of here before we get to the mind-breaking stage?”

His responding silence kills the last vestiges of her hope. 

In truth, Elgar’nan scared Rook far worse than Ghilan’nain did. She was obviously a monster, so far removed from the benevolent picture of the elven Gods Rook had heard growing up. She hardly resembled the Ghilan’nain of Dalish legend at all. 

Elgar’nan’s honeyed words were much more dangerous. Rook knew this was particularly true in her case, as she craved praise and comfort like she was parched for it. It was a glaring weakness that he was fit to exploit perfectly. It wasn’t just his power that made Elgar’nan frightening, but the potential he had to make her betray herself completely, even leaving aside the mind control he wielded. 

It had taken Bellara and Neve’s magic to crack her out of its hold before. Embarrassing, given that she too was a mage. But she had just felt so…

Warm. 

Fuck, this was so bad. Fuck fuck. Fuck. 

Before she could try to prepare her mental defenses any further, she heard it: heavy footsteps down the hallway, heading toward her cell. She would fight, for as long as she was able to. Scrambling to her feet, Rook stood straight, her hands balled into fists at her side.

He came into view in front of the cell, seeming far too regal for the dim surroundings. Elgar’nan was significantly larger than Rook. Standing in front of him, she came up to about his ribs in height, and she knew from earlier that one of his hands had fit easily around her neck. It was hard to believe he, like Rook, was simply an elf- or used to be, anyway.

The memory came to her unbidden. Rook wasn’t sure if it was something she thought of on her own, or the byproduct of Elgar’nan’s ability to read minds, as if her mind was a book he’d simply plucked a page from.

Her mother, so many years ago, knelt beside her with a smile, “It’s a blessing from Elgar’nan surely, Mina. You were-”

“Born during an eclipse,” Elgar’nan’s voice cut through the memory, his tone almost awed, “You were mine from your birth, Rook. How fortuitous.”

Rook grit her teeth. She shook her head, wishing she could just squeeze her eyes shut. Now, at the eleventh hour, she was finally accepting it. No one was coming to rescue her.

“I am not yours-” She snapped back, finally finding her voice. Through the bars, Elgar’nan smiled at her, a condescending smirk of both amusement and pity.

“Had you grown up Dalish, you would be wearing my mark now,” He replied, gesturing to her face and her lack of vallaslin. He was right. 

“Even if I was, I still wouldn’t be yours. I will never be yours,” Rook spit the words back at him with as much venom as she could muster. It was confusing to her, the way Elgar’nan looked truly, genuinely saddened by her words. He looked at her like she was drowning, and she refused to grasp his hand to allow him to pull her to safety.

“Aren’t you tired, da’len?” Elgar’nan asked, stepping closer to the bars. “Tired of leading, tired of fighting? You take care of your team so diligently. Does anyone take care of you?” Rook’s hands started to shake, in spite of herself. Elgar’nan’s yellow irises, made more bright by the stark contrast of the dark sclera, bore into her own, “Where are these friends of yours now? They have left you to me,” Using a key, he unlocked the cell door, and let it swing open. “Just let me take care of you. Worship me. Adore me. And I will take care of everything for you. Don’t you want that?”

More than hating Elgar’nan for saying it, Rook hated herself more for wanting it.

“No,” She lied, “I don’t.”

Elgar’nan’s lips pressed into a thin, displeased line across his face. His eyes narrowed at her, and he took a step back.

“Come with me willingly,” He said, “Or I will make you come with me by force. One option will be much more pleasant than the other, I assure you. But if you insist on resisting like a petulant child, then I will treat you as one in need of correction.” His words were clipped. Sharp. Severe. Brokering no room for argument.

But Rook wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of her obedience. She had sworn to herself that she would fight until she dropped dead. Shaking her head, lightning sparked across her fingertips, and she readied herself for a hopeless fight. 

Faster than she’d thought he was capable of, Elgar’nan reached into the cell and grabbed her by her wrist, wrenching her toward him. She was pulled off of her feet, yelping in pain as she stumbled forward. Letting her lightning arc out, it crackled across Elgar’nan’s skin, and with some measure of satisfaction, she saw his face twist in pain.

But the fight was over before it had begun. Gripping her jaw with his other hand, tight enough Rook knew it would bruise, he held her face and leaned in close. Attempting to squirm away was fruitless.

“How sweetly you lie to me,” He hissed at her. The yellow of his irises burned into her like the sun, “So undisciplined. I am going to enjoy watching you crawl to me, begging to serve, knowing that your Dread Wolf is listening in despair.”

A chill passed through Rook. The veil was so thin here- of course Solas still had that link to her, as he had earlier when he had helped them escape. Could he hear everything going on between her and Elgar’nan? A distraction wouldn’t help this time. Even if he could hear everything, she was on her own.

“I will not-” Rook winced as the grip on her jaw tightened even further.

“Quiet,” Elgar’nan said, his patience apparently worn through, “It is time you learned the bliss of surrendering control to me.”

The world in front of Rook began to blur, as though filtered through a hazy cloud. Elgar’nan’s face shifted out of focus, his hand dropping from her jaw. Suddenly, Rook felt drowsy, like she was dropping deeper and deeper into a dark, comfortable void. Everything was fine. Everything felt good, like there was a tingle of easy pleasure alighting her skin. Her mind stilled. 

It was like she was drugged. She was so warm, like she was bathing in a sunbeam. A million miles away, she was aware that this was Elgar’nan’s mind control again, wrapping around her will to fight like a snake. Choking the life from it.

“There,” Elgar’nan’s voice came to her, muffled like he was underwater, “Much better now, isn’t it?”

Rook wasn’t sure how to respond. It was much better, but for some reason she wasn’t supposed to think that, was she? Thinking too much was confusing. It made her head hurt. It was better not to think. 

A hand gripped hers, and began to lead her out of the cell and down the hall. Walking steady was a bit of a challenge, but so long as she was being led, she could manage it. One foot in front of the other, she went up some stairs, stepped over some... bodies, maybe. It didn’t bother her. It didn’t matter. 

Her world had shrunk to a pinprick. Remembering her life, who she was, what she was dealing with- all of that was so painful. She didn’t want it anymore. It was too hard.

Eventually, she wasn’t moving anymore. When had she stopped? Her jaw had been hurting before, but now, fingers were caressing where they had previously squeezed. Rook leaned into the touch, closing her eyes and sighing softly.

“Don’t you feel good like this?” Elgar’nan asked, smoothing a hand down her hair, and Rook nodded. She could stay like this forever, she thought, “This is what loving me feels like. This is what worshiping me feels like. Pleasure, eternal. Tell me how good you feel.”

[Wake up.]

“I feel so good,” Rook heard her voice mumble. Hands smoothed down her hair and pressed lower. Fingertips danced across the small of her back, down her arms, and across her legs. Her body felt hot, suddenly buzzing with arousal.

“Tell me how much you want this.”

[Rook, break free of this. Remember your mind.]

“I want this,” Rook breathed, tilting her head back as hands pressed on her hips, under her breasts. Slipping under her clothes. Where was she? Was she on the ground? It didn’t matter. Her God was touching her. Her God was touching-

[WAKE UP.]

Her awareness snapped back to her like a rubber band. Inhaling sharply, Rook blinked the blurriness out of her vision. Like coming up out of sleep, she woke from the mind control. At least enough to be aware of herself and her surroundings once again.

Rook was sitting on the ground, her head thrown back and her palms pressed into the ground at her sides. She was in a throne room, of some kind, likely still in the temple. The dismembered and broken bodies of Venatori cultists were scattered around her, and there was so much blood pooled on the floor that she could feel it soaking through her clothing. How she could have missed the overwhelming smell of blood, even in her trance-like state... it seemed impossible.

Still leaning over her, Elgar’nan slowly withdrew his hands from under her shirt. Rook shivered with their absence. Although her mind was now her own, it seemed her body was still responding of its own volition, aching for Elgar’nan to keep touching her. Screaming for it.

Solas’ last call to break her free of the mind control still echoed around her head. Why had he done this? Why had he made her aware of what was happening to her? It was so much easier when she didn’t know- when she was floating, suspended in ignorance. 

Elgar’nan’s lip curled in displeasure, an irritated look crossing his face.

“That fool,” Elgar’nan huffed, standing straight over top of Rook. A soft, unwanted noise of agreement escaped from her lips, which caused the corner of his mouth to twitch up. “Though I see my lesson was not entirely unsuccessful, was it?”

“Believe... believe whatever you want,” She eked out. Rook wanted to move, to try to flee, but her body felt unbelievably heavy. All she wanted to do was to lie back on the ground and sleep. (All she wanted to do was to drop back under his mind control). “I will never agree to- to anything you ask without the influence of mind control. Solas knew that. I will never be yours.”

Maybe Solas had thought at least she could keep her pride, this way. She hoped he was right. 

But she suspected he wouldn’t be.

“We’ll see,” Elgar’nan responded simply. Then, as if she weighed nothing at all, he grabbed her body and lifted her into his arms. 

Rook’s body responded instantly, arousal swooping through her at the ease of the motion. Inhaling sharply, she looked away, anywhere but at Elgar’nan’s face. The betrayal of her body stung at her soul, humiliation roaring just as loudly as the pleasure. He must know. He must. 

“Of course I do,” He answered her aloud, continuing to carry her over toward the throne. For a wild moment, Rook wondered if she’d spoken her thoughts without meaning to, before remembering he could read her mind, “Do you think you could hide from me? There’s no need to be ashamed, da’len. It’s in your nature to want me as much as you do. I am your God.”

Still holding her in his arms, Elgar’nan lowered himself onto the throne, draping Rook’s body across his lap. He was so big that she was nestled easily in a spot right between his thighs.

She should run. She needed to run, to get away. She felt paralyzed, overwhelmingly weak. Needy.

“Why do you continue your farce of defiance?” Elgar’nan smoothed his hand across her face, and then down the skin of her neck, “Surrender yourself to me, and I will make you feel pleasure beyond pleasure. I will take care of you.”

Rook squeezed her eyes shut and didn’t respond. Elgar’nan’s hands began to roam her body again, and this time, she was all too aware of the way they slid under her clothes and along her bare skin. Goosebumps prickled along her flesh, and she twisted under his attentive hands.

“Tell me how good you feel,” Elgar’nan repeated to her, his voice dark as he groped at Rook’s breast and pinched one of her nipples between his fingers. Rolling the nub, Rook bit her lip so hard to keep from crying out that she tasted blood. She shook her head vehemently, keeping her eyes shut.

“Tell me,” Elgar’nan continued, his voice hard and firm, “How much you want this.”

His hands continued to press against her skin, pinching at her nipples and traveling lower. When his fingers drew circles into her hip, Rook realized a truth that made her start to truly panic.

She was wet. She was so wet that her cunt ached. And he was going to know, because she couldn’t stop him as he pressed his fingers lower, sliding them without hesitation along her slit. Confident and sure.

It was like something inside of her started to break. Rook’s breaths began to quicken, and she reached out and grabbed at Elgar’nan’s wrist like it was going to stop him. Tears, hot and wet and completely out of her control, started to fall from her eyes. 

“Shhhh,” Elgar’nan withdrew his hand, comforting Rook as she choked on a quiet sob. She didn’t want- she didn’t- “You put up a good fight. You did. It was quite valiant. But you can give in, now. No one will blame you for it.”

She felt pathetic. All she wanted to do was disappear, but here she was, flayed open with need in Elgar’nan’s lap. Her voice in the back of her head, still defiant, cried, no.

He sighed, exasperated at her refusal, and pulled off her pants and smallclothes in one quick motion, casting them aside. With Rook completely exposed to him, Elgar’nan pressed his hand back to her cunt. Deft, skilled fingers rubbed circles into her clit, and unable to stop it, a moan fell from Rook’s lips. She had tried, so hard, to hold back the pleasure, but it was awash over her now. With his other hand, he pressed a finger to her entrance and pushed into her easily, drawing a long, reedy whine from Rook as he curled it inside of her.

She was still crying, fat tears falling down her cheeks. As she squirmed on his lap, she felt Elgar’nan’s cock begin to stir.

When he added a second finger, curling them both and pumping them inside of her as his other hand pressed against her clit, Rook knew it wouldn’t be long before she came for him. 

She was so close. She didn’t want this. Rook whimpered, closing her eyes as she felt herself being pushed to the edge-

And then, Elgar’nan withdrew his hands completely. Rook’s eyes, wet with tears, snapped open as she stared up at him in utter confusion.

A cruel smile spread across his face as he watched her. 

“I’m sorry,” He mocked, “Did you want to come?” Her cunt was still throbbing with need, but maybe it was... maybe it was better that she hadn’t-

“Oh, no. No, no no,” Elgar’nan laughed at her openly, pressing his fingers back inside of Rook and beginning to work her body once again. He pulled a long, broken moan from her, “You didn’t think I would be content to bring you to the edge once, did you? After all of your stubborn denials? Oh, Rook. This could have been so easy.”

By the fifth time that he brought Rook to the edge and pulled back just before she came, she was crying again, this time from frustration. Her mind was splintering. All she wanted was for Elgar’nan to make her come, to stop this, to feel the release run through her. The edging was driving her mad.

As if Elgar’nan wouldn’t notice, Rook ground her hips up against his hands, chasing the pleasure. She couldn’t stop moaning now, her previous shame abandoned to her need. When she neared her orgasm once again, and Elgar’nan started to pull away, she grabbed at his hands, trying to keep them in place. He easily shrugged her off.

Four more times, he brought Rook to the edge of orgasm. This was a torture. She couldn’t take it any more. 

“P-please,” She finally gasped, her body shaking and soaked with sweat, “Please, I need to come. Please.”

Elgar’nan groaned, a low sound from the back of his throat. He looked at Rook with a certain hunger that she hadn’t yet observed in him.

“You think now, after all of your defiance, that please would be enough?” Elgar’nan said, his voice rough with arousal, pumping his fingers into her again. She was so wet at this point that it was obscene, soaking her thighs and Elgar’nan’s pants underneath her, “Come now. You can beg better than that.”

“Please- please!” It’s like she’d forgotten how to say anything else. Rook’s brain scrambled to try to come up with something she could say that would get Elgar’nan to finally allow her to come. Her mind was a complete mess, grasping for words that she couldn’t quite reach. Elgar’nan laughed at her, with an exhale of his breath.

She was getting close again- it didn’t take much, at this point, with her having been so close to the edge for so long- and the thought of him pulling his fingers away, leaving her throbbing and cold once more, pushed her to the edge of delirium. 

“Call me your master,” He ordered, voice low.

Rook didn’t want to say it. She tried to refuse, but after a particularly deep thrust of his fingers inside of her, she couldn’t help it any more. 

Her mind was so tired. She was so tired. She wanted to come. She wanted to come.

“M-Master, please-” She cried, face burning with shame and embarrassment.

“Call me your God.”

“Elgar’nan,” She gasped like a prayer. When she looked at him, her eyes were wide and pleading, “My Lord, my Master, my God-”

“Good, da’mi. Very good.”

This time, he didn’t withdraw his hands. Elgar’nan continued to work her not only up to her orgasm, but through it, finally letting the heat inside of her erupt. Rook’s body stilled, her head tilting back as waves of ecstasy washed over her. It was like being set on fire. She coursed with aftershocks of pleasure, and panting, she felt a glow of satisfaction as her body began to come down from its high, having finally achieved the release it had needed.

But Elgar’nan didn’t stop. He kept touching her, pressing his fingers deep into her. Rook twisted against his hands, oversensitivity causing her to wince in pain.

“Telanadas,” He murmured, “Mala suledin nadas.”

With a dawning horror, Rook realized he did not intend to stop. With a low moan of fear, she writhed through a second orgasm. And then a third. And a fourth-

By the sixth, he had succeeded in breaking her mind. Somewhere between the repeated edging, the humiliation of not only calling him her God but feeling it to be true, and now the ceaseless, painful orgasms, her mind had fled her. The part of her that had screamed in opposition to him was gone, replaced with pure instinct. Why had she fought him? He could bring her so much pleasure, or so much pain. If she was good, if she was obedient, she would be rewarded. It was simple. It was so, blessedly simple.

She stared up at him, and Elgar’nan must have seen the change in her eyes, because he slowly withdrew his hands, settling them on her hips. Rook sighed in relief, closing her eyes and then opening them again, slowly blinking up at him.

“Tell me how much you want this,” He demanded again, voice quiet and firm. Her final test of obedience.

“I want it,” Rook whispered back, like she was afraid of the words. It was more than just wanting him to fuck her- though she found she wanted that too, craved it, like she could find divinity by taking him inside of her. 

It was subservience. It was slavery. It was the complete abandonment of control, the total violation of her free will. It was worship, devotion, adoration. She was hysterical with it.

“I believe you,” Elgar’nan said, with a look of triumph. Moving her body in his lap like she was a doll, he sat her down, straddling him. Pressing his mouth to her neck, he kissed her there, sucking on the skin until it bruised. 

Rolling up his hips against her, Rook felt the hard press of his cock against her sore cunt, straining through the material of his pants. He had to be nearly the size of her forearm. Rook moaned, meeting the movement to grind down against him, already feeling an almost deranged desperation to have him inside of her.

Her hands went to his lap, and Elgar’nan allowed her to pull his cock out of his pants, taking it into both of her hands with no small amount of reverence. She eagerly pumped her hands down the length of him, and he huffed out a groan, a red blush creeping up his neck.

“Worship me,” He said, as she raised herself on his lap. Had she not just been thoroughly finger-fucked, taking a cock of his size would be a lot harder. It wasn’t disproportionate, but compared to her, Elgar’nan was significantly larger than her in general. 

She guided him to her entrance, and still as wet as she was, slowly pressed his cock into her. She lowered herself, inch-by-inch, into his lap, burying his cock inside her with a broken moan. When she was fully settled, his cock sheathed inside of her to the base, she did the most humiliating, self-defeating thing that she could think of.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the mouth.

Elgar’nan snapped his hips up against her, hissing into her mouth as Rook groaned in pain and pleasure. Although her thighs were shaking, she lifted herself up off his cock, and began to grind and bounce herself in his lap, fucking herself on him. The stretch of it was painful, almost too big even with her preparation, but Rook couldn’t imagine anything feeling better.

Biting at her lip until she gasped, and then pressing an insistent, dominating tongue into her mouth, Elgar’nan did not let her breathe for a second, meeting her movements with his own. Rook’s head spun. Her body, so exhausted by now, was beginning to go limp. Elgar’nan didn’t seem to care, keeping the pace when she faltered.

“You make for such a pretty thrall,” Elgar’nan groaned, thrusting up his hips in a way that left Rook dizzy, “To think, you ever resisted me. See how much better this is? You are entirely mine, Rook,” He rocked his hips up, fucking into Rook so deep that she shuddered, “Watch and listen, Dread Wolf, as I make your perfect little pawn scream my name. Oh, the gift you gave me when you freed her mind, just so she could give it to me willingly.”

With the reminder that Solas was present in some way- that he knew what was happening to her, how she had been degraded and ruined- Rook buried her face into Elgar’nan’s neck in shame, trying to ignore how that humiliation, too, aroused her. 

“I want to humiliate you in ways that you never thought possible. Until you’re begging for every debasement that I can dream of,” Elgar’nan breathed the words into her ear, and even without seeing it, she can hear the smirk in his voice. “I think I’ll start by fucking you like this in front of all of your little friends.”

With one final jerk of Elgar’nan’s cock inside of her, Rook let out a weak, quiet whimper as Elgar’nan spilled inside of her with a grunt, holding her in place by her hips as he came. Leaning back in his throne, he sighed then in satisfaction, a smug grin on his face as he came down from his orgasm.

Rook felt boneless and hurt. Her body ached, burning and sore and bruised. But worse than any physical pain was that her sane, rational mind began to gradually return to her, with the clarity of the things she’d said and done making her feel ill.

She was crumpled and broken. She’d begged him in a way she could never take back. It turned her stomach.

As if he could sense her quickly building regret, Elgar’nan lifted Rook off of his lap, and laid her on her back on the floor beside the throne. Rook winced. She could feel his cum, spilling out of her. Elgar’nan shot a withering look down at her, and uttered a single command.

“Stay.”

Rook couldn’t move if she’d wanted to. When he returned, a carving tool and a pot of ink in his hands, she was still so out of it that it wasn’t until he kneeled over her that she realized what he was about to do.

“W-wait-”

He didn’t wait. Just as there had been no response to her cries of pleasure, there was no response to her cries of pain. Her face gripped in his hand once again, Elgar’nan took the carving instrument and tattooed patterns into the skin of her face, using the ink to permanently mark her shame. 

When Rook’s companions do, eventually, return to break her out of the temple and rescue her, Rook has Elgar’nan’s vallaslin etched into her skin. 

Marking her as his.

[mothdogs]

21 hours in, I am enjoying the Veilguard so far. I am. But it suffers from the lack of the Keep so badly. In no way does it feel like a sequel to Inquisition.

I just got to the part where you unlock dialogue with Harding about her time in the Inquisition. You get to ask 3 very generic questions about what she thought about the advisors, inner circle, and laypeople of the Inquisition. No questions about what the Inquisitor was like, the world-altering choices the Inquisitor made during the last decade, no questions about the Inquisitor’s personality or relationship to either their LI or Solas as far as I can tell. It’s fucking nuts.

I dream of a different world… one where you can import some kind of actual, detailed savestate about the Inquisition and then maybe Rook reads Varric’s book about those years and asks him questions about it!! Imagine the game we could have had!!! Where your Inquisitor’s choices mattered!!! Fuck

[vir-tanadahl]

The Burden of the Dread Wolf

Summary: Solavellan ending told from Solas' POV. Obviously, Veilguard spoilers.

Solas—no, the Dread Wolf—stands battered and broken, bruises blooming like shadows on his skin, a dull ache thrumming through him with every breath. After all these years, he’s so tired. How could these last ten years weigh on him more than a millennium of existence? He, the Dread Wolf, has sacrificed so much to come this far. To claw back the power stolen from his people. To avenge the death of Mythal.

The regrets have always clawed at him. He regrets leaving the Fade. He regrets not stopping Mythal from becoming a god, from following the path that led her to death. Most of all, he regrets… not saving her. She called to him, once, asking for his aid. And he came, heart open, reverent. His love for her was beyond romance, something ancient and deep, an adoration etched into his very being. Her death was the final twist of the knife that cleaved wisdom from pride.

He regrets claiming her power, believing he could mend a shattered world, erase the pain he himself had wrought. He regrets the blood he spilled, even Mythal’s vessel, to seize the strength he thought he needed. He regrets the death of Varric, another thread severed in his relentless pursuit. And he regrets not staying by his vhenan’s side—his heart, the Inquisitor. His light.

He regrets his betrayal of Felassan. Of Rook.

Yet here he stands, the Dread Wolf, carrying the weight of those choices, haunted by the choices he has made.

"Please, Rook. I don't want to fight you." His voice trembles, a rare crack in his guarded tone, pleading and raw. There's no deception in his words this time, no clever twist or hidden intent.

Rook tries desperately to reach him, her words filled with a pleading urgency. Rook tries to reason with him, pleading with him to see the pain caused by Elgar’nan and Ghilian’nain. She tries to pull him back, to make him understand the cost of his path.

But Rook doesn’t realize he carries a burden heavier than just their sins. He believes he broke the world—because he is the one who broke it—and only he can restore it. Unbreak it. He feels that duty, thrumming in his very bones. He has to make it right. He will make it right.

Yet, he can’t see what lies just beyond his reach. His wisdom, once clear and guiding, has been twisted into something darker. Pride whispers that he can undo this mistake, that he alone can reshape what was lost. But true wisdom would show him beauty even in the scars of his unintended creation. The Dread Wolf has been trapped in his own prison of regrets long before he was accidentally trapped in the prison he created for the Gods.

“Destroying everything won’t fix your mistakes,” Rook says firmly, her gaze steady as she extends his lyrium dagger toward him. “If you want to save this world, bind yourself to the very thing you’re trying to erase.” Her voice is low but resolute, her outstretched hand unwavering. Another regret, he thinks, already settling like a weight in his chest.

The Dread Wolf takes a deep breath, turning slowly toward the place where the ritual will begin. His head falls forward, and he closes his eyes. “I… I cannot.” His voice is strained, heavy with exhaustion. “To stop now would dishonor everyone I’ve wronged to get here.” The terrible things he’s done, the lives he’s destroyed—they press down on him like shadows, demanding he see this through. If he stops now, what meaning would all that suffering hold?

“Even if…” Her voice, barely a whisper, cuts through his thoughts, and he turns, feeling his heart twist at the sound. “Even if those you’ve wronged asked you to stop?”

He knows that voice. His breath catches sharply, a tremor of recognition running through him as he meets her gaze. The dagger slips lower in his hand, almost forgotten, as he turns further to face her, his mouth parted in stunned silence. “Vhenan…” Solas breathes, the word heavy with disbelief. His voice wavers, pride crumbling as the guarded walls around his heart begin to fall, leaving him raw and exposed in her presence. His chest tightens, a tremor passing through him as he struggles to comprehend the impossible—she is here, standing before him

She is the woman he never meant to love but couldn’t help himself. The one who helped him see worth in this world he’d crafted out of his own wounded heart. She saw him—truly saw him—for who he was, asking questions that peeled back the layers he’d hidden behind for centuries, curious and kind.

“You think you’re beyond saving, but you’re wrong.” Her voice is soft, coaxing, her words weaving into his mind like a lifeline. “I’m here, walking the dinan’shiral with you.”

Pain and confusion cloud his gaze, and Solas bows his head, his voice rough. “I lied to you. I betrayed you.” Shame ripples through him, and he dares not meet her eyes.

She steps closer, her voice unwavering. “I forgive you. All you have to do… is stop.” He turns fully to her, his expression strained, the weight of regret etched across his face. “Ir abelas, vhenan,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he lowers his head again. “But… I cannot.”

Solas turns back toward the ritual site, his shoulders slumped. “Long before I met you, I failed my oldest friend. She died because of that failure. If I leave the Veil in place, I am destroying the world she wanted. And I will have…” his voice trails for a moment. “She would have died for nothing.”

He lifts the dagger, preparing to begin the ritual, when a raven’s sharp caw cuts through the silence. The bird swoops down, shifting midair into a figure cloaked in shadow and mystery.

“And whose fault is that, Dread Wolf?”

Solas whirls, momentarily stunned. “Morrigan?” Surprise flashes across his face as he tries to reconcile the sudden appearance of the Witch of the Wilds.

“One appellation among many I wear,” she replies, her voice smooth and enigmatic. “Advisor to Orlais, Witch of the Wilds, Daughter of Flemeth…” She pauses, her gaze piercing. “And once, long ago, an old friend.”

Solas’s gaze shifts, realizing he’s now surrounded by three women. Rook steps forward, her expression resolute as she lifts a small statuette of Mythal. “Mythal lives on in her,” she says quietly, “and in this.” She places the statuette in Morrigan’s outstretched hand, who, with a knowing glance, activates it.

A soft, ancient glow pulses from the statuette, filling the air with an ethereal light. Memories rush forward—fragments of Mythal, fragments of that fateful moment of betrayal when he failed her. Solas stands frozen, the weight of the past pressing down upon him, as Mythal’s essence shimmers, a reminder of the failure he made.

He gasps, his breath hitching as his gaze falls upon the form of Mythal as he once knew her, luminous and fierce, yet filled with a serenity that pierces his soul. His head lowers slightly, his mouth parted in silent reverence. “Mythal…” he manages, his voice barely a whisper, as if any louder would shatter this fragile moment.

The essence of Mythal stands before him, her form imposing yet gentle. “I pulled you from the Fade you cherished and thrust you into war. I turned your wisdom into a weapon…” She pauses, her eyes softened by an ancient sorrow. “And it broke you.”

Solas bows his head, shame tightening his posture, his voice trembling with regret. “The things I have done…” His words are heavy, laced with anguish and remorse.

But Mythal raises a hand, stopping him gently. “Are not yours to bear alone, my friend,” she says, her voice warm and kind. “The wrongs we committed, we committed together.” She reaches out, resting a hand on his shoulder, and a warmth spreads through him—her forgiveness, her absolution.

Solas’s shoulders slump, his head low, his hands trembling as he holds the dagger close to his chest. It’s the very blade that severed her life, a symbol of his failure and the pain he’s carried.

“I release you from my service,” she commands softly, her voice both gentle and resolute before disappearing. He no longer needs to be the Dread Wolf.

A shudder passes through him as the words sink in, releasing a weight he’s held for far too long. He leans forward, hands braced on his knees, head bowed, processing the unexpected mercy she has offered. Pain lingers, but beneath it… a flicker of relief, tentative and bittersweet.

The Inquisitor kneels beside him, her presence steady and warm as she places a gentle hand on his arm. “There is no fate but the love we share,” she murmurs, her voice soft and unwavering. Her words hit him like a tidal wave, and his breath falters, a tremor running through him as he clutches his chest, feeling the sharp ache of despair radiate through his being. He closes his eyes briefly, the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

Slowly, he rises, shoulders still hunched beneath the burden he carries. He turns, his gaze trailing over the tears in the Veil that continue to spread, multiplying like dark wounds in the sky—a reminder of his failures, his responsibility.

With a final look at the three women before him, he raises the lyrium dagger and, with grim resolve, slices the palm of his hand, letting his blood flow to complete the ritual. His voice is quiet but steady as he speaks, binding himself to the Veil. “My life force now sustains the Veil. With every breath I take, I will shield the innocent from the consequences of my past failures.”

He feels the connection take hold, a bond now woven between himself and the Veil, and though he stands, he feels as if a part of him has willingly surrendered to bear this eternal penance. “The Titans’ dreams are mad from their imprisonment. I cannot kill the blight, but I can help to soothe its anger.” He tells them as he hands the lyrium dagger to Rook.

“I will go and seek atonement,” he says quietly, turning back toward the gaping tears in the Veil, the rifts he has sworn to mend.

“But you don’t have to go alone.” Her voice, gentle yet resolute, pulls him back, stirring something fragile within him. His heart clenches as he twists to face her, disbelief clouding his expression. That she would even suggest such a thing… after everything he’s done, everything he’s caused. And yet, her hand slips into his, warm and grounding.

He shakes his head, his voice laced with quiet desperation. “Where I’m going is terrible,” he whispers, pleading for her to understand. But her gaze remains steady, unwavering, filled with a fierce, unyielding love.

“It won’t be terrible if I’m with you,” she replies, her voice filled with a soft strength. “We’ll make this journey together, always.”

Before he can protest, she draws him close, her arms wrapping around him as she presses her lips to his, a kiss filled with love and a vow of loyalty he can hardly believe. He’s overcome, struggling to comprehend that she would willingly join him in his path of penance—and yet, a surge of gratitude and wonder swells within him, easing the shadows of doubt and despair he has carried alone for so long.

They pull apart, his gaze lingering on her for a heartbeat longer before he turns to face Rook. “Thank you, Rook,” he says softly, his voice full of gratitude and respect. He holds her gaze a moment, then, with a final nod, turns toward the largest tear in the Veil, his path stretching out before him.

Fear gnaws at him—fear that, at the last moment, she might choose not to follow, that the enormity of what lies ahead might make her hesitate. He keeps his eyes forward, too afraid to turn back, his heart pounding with the uncertainty.

But then, he feels it: her hand resting firmly on his shoulder, the warmth of her fingers curling around his forearm, grounding him. A quiet strength flows from her touch, and he closes his eyes briefly, a wave of relief washing over him. She is here, unyielding, choosing this path with him.

Together, they step forward and vanishing into the Fade.