#The dalish life is hard you know

[chibichibisha]

Opps I think I never posted my Warden Commander Mahariel and her crew of adopted kids misfits . Anyway here she is!

[midnightwind]

I love Dragon Age companion quests, but sometimes I wish we had more that didn't culminate in fighting a Big Personal Bad, you know

[skullmoss]

wonder if romancing harding as a dwarf is what s*lasmancers felt like in inquisition, where you feel Catered To

except the catch is harding is actually a genuinely wonderful and sweet person who cares about others and isn't racist

[musingmycelium]

. noncoherent but also thoughts

[rpgchoices]

Davrin's past and his Dalish clan and his vallaslin (all mentions I could find)

So much in the game is hidden behind banters between companions (which is ahhhh a bit annoying) so I compiled all the banter and information I found about Davrin's past.

Not really plot spoilers, just Davrin spoilers.

At the end I will summarize everything in a bullepoints list.

Bellara and Davrin banter:

Text here (link)

There are also a few other banters I did not record where it is implied Davrin does not care about the gods or some other late game revelations. The only thing he cares about (and mentions again later in game, in a main scene) is how people see Dalish and elves, and how to minimize the risk of humans hating elves even more.

Taash and Davrin's banter (text in description for each image)

Davrin's quests information:

Here are other mentions from Davrin first quest: Rook: How did it go? Davrin: Poorly. They felt like I rejected them. Rook: Did you? Davrin: Yeah, I suppose. Clan life wasn't for me. I had to get away. Rook: So then what happened? You're out in the world, looking for adventure… Davrin: Got my ass kicked. Went broke. Davrin: I couldn't go crawling back to my clan a failure. Doubt they'd take me back. It forced me to figure out what I was good at. Always had a knack for hunting.

Other info we get from the Halla quest is that: Davrin spent summers tending Halla as a kid alongside Eldrin, who is not his uncle, but like an uncle. So this is a case of Davrin wanting to spend time with Hallas, or being made to by his clan. Eldrin's vallaslin is Ghilan'nain:

So it could be that Davrin's new vallaslin might be Ghilan'nain too. But I think it is Andruil's or a mix of the two.

Davrin could have gotten the vallaslin to honor Eldrin (we know he is the only member of his clan - if he is part of his clan - Davrin has no trouble contacting, even if they seem to have not met each other's in a while). But we also know Davrin was a hunter.

Eldrin was also the one who taught Davrin what to hunt basically. In his first quest Davrin says "When I was a kid, I'd hunt just about anything. Rabbits, deer, fox. Eldrin gave that purpose. Taught me the Way of Three Trees. The Way of the Arrow, Way of the Bow, Way of the Wood."

This is from Andruil and if we look at all three vallaslin:

Emmrich and Davrin:

(they have some discussions about Davrin not believing in the Fade or liking it, this is the one which mentions the Dalish clan)

There are also a few other banters at the Lighthouse that mention the Fade and the sky. Mainly they are about Davrin being uncomfortable with the open space and stuff about him disbelieving the Fade: "Good. Because it's not the sky. Emmrich says it's the Fade. Me, I don't know what to think."

Final banter with Davrin:

So basically, the summary of what we know for certain is:

Davrin left his clan voluntarily because he felt restless, he did not care about tradition and lessons, and he wanted to see the world

He felt like he did not fit in his clan since he was a kid

He was also hunting everything he could find until Eldrin taught him the way of the Three Trees and to protect life by hunting darkness (monsters)

Eldrin is like an uncle for him and lives isolated (unsure if he is part of Davrin's clan) and Davrin used to spend summers helping him with the hallas

Davrin feels like he pissed off his clan, he rejected them and both Davrin and Bellara agree it would be hard for him to go back

In another dialogue, he says he actually did not think the clan would take him back at all even if he crawled back asking for help ("Like a failure" he says)

He does not regret joining the Grey Wardens and looking for adventures, but he seems to regret that came at the cost of leaving the clan and not being able to return or keep in contact with them

Also, he says the outside world was different from what he imagined

PART 2 HERE

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Davrin (and also Grey Wardens and griffons) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Davrin

Family and past:

When he was a kid, Davrin broke his arm when his aravel sailed off a ridge 

Davrin stlll considers himself Dalish and thinks that will never change

Davrin hasn’t seen his clan since he left the forest. He misses the clan (‘it comes and goes’), Dalish food – especially halla milk and butter — and the sense of a common purpose. The last is why he joined the Wardens

Eldrin lives on his own, not together with Davrin’s clan

Just like Bellara, when Davrin was little, he wondered what it was like to have his own house, shop at the market and make friends with outsiders

Davrin isn’t bothered by the idea of fighting the Elven gods because he never really believed in them, but he is worried about how the events of the Veilguard will impact the reputation of the elves

General:

Davrin drinks beer and wine

Davrin hums to himself :)

Davrin can speak some Dwarven 

Davrin doesn’t get the Fade - it’s just too many things at once (the place where spirits live, origin of creation etc.). He has difficulties believing it because it’s something he can’t touch or see 

Davrin would’ve left D’meta’s Crossing’s mayor to die

Davrin dumps griffon waste right into the Fade. No reservations about it whatsoever

Life with the Wardens:

Davrin says he never got used to hearing/sensing darkspawn after joining the Wardens

Davrin knows Ramish (protagonist of the Horrors of Hormkar)

The first group of Wardens Davrin fought with had a special system for fighting ogres. One of them would be “Cheese” (bait), drawing the ogre's attention while the others shot it with arrows (so Davrin can either use a bow or was always the Cheese) 

Monster hunting: 

Davrin can't take most books about monsters seriously, as they are not up to his standards

Fighting monsters is all about the thrill of the chase and tracking a target down rather than the victory

Davrin prefers to fight flesh-and-blood monsters rather than demons

Davrin takes full payment upfront when he hunts monsters for coin

Davrin has many monster trophies (Harding finds them disturbing)

Davrin does taxidermy 

Relationships with other companions: 

(In conversations with Bellara and Neve) Davrin genuinely believes Lucanis/Spite can kill them all 

(In conversation with Harding) Davrin proudly says Lucanis couldn’t take him 

Davrin made a little statue with a skull for a face as a gift for Emmrich’s colleague at his request

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Davrin offers Emmrich to become a monster-hunting team (“Warden and lich. From darkspawn to demons, we've got you covered.”), thinking they could score a lot of coin

Davrin also offers Neve to set up shop together. “Minrathous Monsters and Murders. If it's claws and fangs stirring up trouble, we've got it covered.” Neve suggests Emmrich (and Manfred, if he's alive) joins them

Davrin and Neve met before the events of the Veilagurd on what Neve calls “The Vol Dorma Job”

About Assan and griffons:

Griffons like shiny things. Assan even once stole one of Bellara’s crystals (but later brought it back) 

(If Sent to Arlathan Forest) Griffons seem to 'remember' patrolling the forest, like it's a genetic thing

(If sent to the Wardens) Griffons listen to Evka

There’s no definite age for when a griffon is ready to carry a rider. It’s more about size and discipline 

(If Rook is in romance with Davrin) Assan gets a little moody/jealous after Davrin and Rook get together

Fade spooks Assan, so he doesn’t fly too far away from the Lighthouse 

Assan eats pastries from the kitchen

Assan doesn't like eating vegetables, but Davrin got him to eat carrots after Taash pointed out he needed more fibre in his diet

Assan misses Manfred when he dies

Assan can dive underwater and eat fish

Assan is curious about Neve’s wisps

About Wardens/misc:

Wardens slip Worry Weed into each other’s ale for kicks (it causes paranoia)

There is no definite timeline of how long a blighted person can survive without the Joining. It all depends on the person

Evka is good at telling spooky stories

Weisshaupt has a world-class library with books over a thousand years old

Wooden carvings can become haunted if blood gets on them

Wardens usually eat cold gruel for meals. Nobody knows what's inside it

[cybershock24601]

Alternate Veilguard time travel au where everyone BUT Rook ends up in the past as a result of one of their attempts to get Rook back.

The Inquisition suddenly gets the weirdest collection of freaks showing up at Skyhold including a tevene detective, a dalish monster hunter, a dalish historian, an esteemed member of the mourn watch, the demon of vyrantium who might possibly be possessed by a demon, and a 13 yr old dragon hunter + their mom. Also Harding is there and suddenly doing rock magic.

And none of these people seem to be doing all that much to help, they just keep side eying Solas.

(How do the companions that were lost on tearstone island get blasted back to the past too you ask? i don't know, i don't care, it's the power of friendship bitch)

Highlights of this au include:

Lucanis telling Caterina No for once in his life and ditching the Crows. Caterina and Illario have absolutely no idea how to handle this sudden shift in behavior from the ever obedient Lucnais

Harding suddenly being able do Rock magic and just giving Solas so much pointed shit but never outright calling him out for what he did to the Titans so Solas just has to sit there uncomfortable unable to really say anything about it because if Harding doesn't actually know what happened then he doesn't want to out himself by confirming anything

Bellara peppering Solas with a million questions about the things "he's seen in the fade" and Solas having to awkwardly try to answer her questions because he likes being the guy with the answers while also coming up with increasingly ridiculous explanations on how he knows these things so as to not give too much away

Manfred and Cole becoming friends!

Dorian having to deal with his old teenage crush still being super hot

Davrin fucking with Blackwall by asking him questions he already knows about the Wardens just to see what bullshit that guy's going to come up with

Taash and Iron Bull bonding over dragons while Shathann is freaking out in the background because Bull is ben-hassrath

Neve as Cassandra's bi awakening

Davrin adopts a mabari to fill the assan shaped hole in his life

Bellara getting starry eyed about Varric and convincing him to give her writing tips. They end up essentially co authoring a number of serials about some of Neve's more memorable jobs and Bellara even goes onto write some serials based on Davrin's monster hunting adventures and Lucanis' assassination gigs with the two of them getting a little too nitpicky about the accuracy of Bellara's fictionalizations of their professions

But mostly I just want this au because it's essentially the entire veilguard minus Rook looking at Solas like this throughout the entirety of Inquisition

[fangsandfeels]

"Everyone gets along because there is a threat", yadda, yadda, yadda.

Bullshit. This is not how real scenarios work and it has never been.

russia is a global threat right now, but the world can't decide between sucking its dick and politely asking it to stop because the mere thought of confronting russia makes it shit its pants. The very few countries who scream into the void, warning about russia and telling people to wake the fuck up are ignored and viewed as crazy doomsayers.

This is how real crisis looks like. Nobody works together against a threat because people are spineless cowards who would rather throw their neighbors under the bus than fight. Nobody learned anything from history lessons, books or survivors.

The only difference in a fantasy game is that NPCs end up having more spine and moral principles than real people.

But in Veilguard, everyone gets along because they have NO reasons not to.

Davrin has no real reasons to beef (if you can call it that) with Lucanis because he is a Grey Warden. He knows where Grey Wardens take their conscripts from. He knows that Grey Wardens regularly recruit mages who are a lot more likely to get possessed if they're not careful. Working with an assassin who knows friend from foe isn't the worst thing ever. One subtle warning about taking action if demon takes over is enough.

Taash has no reasons to antagonize Emmrich aside from horrible writing.

Neve gets along with Bellara because writers gave Bellara a happy childhood with her family and turned Dalish artifacts into Apple store gadgets, while refusing giving Neve any nuance as the citizen of Tevinter.

Emmrich gets along with everyone because he is generally a kind and well-mannered person who doesn't like to stir the pot.

Any companion who could have had a sharp edge, got that edge ripped off and a cartoon band-aid slapped on.

Never doesn't deal with people who don't know about Shadow Dragons (and they probably shouldn't know much because when you work against a powerful government who wants to destroy you, you shouldn't show off), so she constantly has to deal with the fact that people assume she is a noble or a slave-owner because she is from Tevinter; that they don't know that she had to literally fight against being enslaved herself because in Tevinter mages who refuse to use their power to dominate others are turned into slaves as well.

Bellara isn't conflicted about working with humans, especially Tevinter humans at all. She seems to never have dealt with oppression her whole life and she is super quick to write off Cyrian as evil even though there are clear SIGNS that he was tricked and controlled by the Forgotten One. But no, she never thinks "He is still there, I can save him, I won't lose him again", she goes straight to "Oh nooo my brother is dead to me".

Emmrich doesn't get burdened by people reacting to him and his sincere intention to help with fear, because of all the sinister rumors revolving around necromancers and Nevarra. He isn't hurt by people assuming that he loves death and things dying. If even he openly admitted that he is deeply terrified of death, they wouldn't have believed him.

Harding isn't burdened by the revelation she learned and what to do with it. Should she storm her way to the Orzammar? Should she talk to fellow surface dwarves and reconnect them with their history? Should she never breach the subject because the truth hurts and it's too much pain, too much anger to live with - and maybe she shouldn't let other dwarves go through it?

We don't even have a party divided on what to do with Solas (kill or talk it out)? Even though it's logical to have companions who are convinced that Solas has to die and those who think that he is misguided and can be convinced to stop.

Also, there are NO companions whose background, viewpoints and attitude would rile other companions up. We have no controversial characters whose interactions with the crew Rook would have been forced to intervene in unless they want their team to start throwing hands with each other.

We could have had Imshael - to give EVERYONE a reason to worry, and argue, and have conflicts. We could have had an ex-Venatori Calpernia bashing heads with Neve, Bellara, and Emrich. We could have had a Qunari spy who'd make Lucanis' dagger-arm itch.

If writers didn't forget about the Architect, we could have had an intelligent Darkspawn companion Davrin could be losing his shit around.

Or heck, we could have had a former red templar who got partially (magically?) reversed from their mad state and is now not a mindless beast, but still is on a borrowed time, probably needed due to their strength, but barely tolerated by anyone.

Who is fanatical, mostly because they have to believe they made a noble sacrifice, that it all was for the greater good -- because the truth scares them to their core. Who gives Lucanis shit for being an assassin and abomination, who bashes necromancy, and mages, and talks about purity, while downplaying their own actions as "Yes, these are my sins, but they are for the better world, and I would be proud to die for that world unlike you heathens who would rather ruin it than repent for your flaws". The kind of companion you'd initially want to do nothing with, but who can reveal an entire gallery of fucked up contradictions and trauma if you decide to keep them around.

However, writing such companions takes skill, courage, and requires absence of greedy corpo "we don't want to scare away new players with all that moral nuance" thinking.

[lizzybeeee]

Personal take: One of the weirdest things Veilguard did, outright baffling, in fact, is how it feels like they reset the status quo of the world to Origins - even further back, if anything.

The game avoids (at all costs) meaningfully delving into exploring what these events/lore reveals mean to the world and characters at large. But the entire time I was thinking: holy shit this is bad.

What happens in game has very, very bad implications for the rest of Thedas and how they're going to look at groups like the Elves and Mages. I'm looking at this from the perspective of someone whose played all three previous games, not from the perspective of datv which really brushes over all moral complexity and sociopolitical issues. Of course, it's just my interpretation but its based off what happened in previous games.

Elves

The Elvish Gods of legend came back, blighted, and ended up wiping out the majority of the South - I find it hard to believe that the elves would not be 'roped in' as being responsible somehow.

Elves could sneeze in a previous game and people would blame them for causing a plague and purge the alienage -> life is shit for an elf and the events of datv would have absolutely made life a thousand times worse.

Would there be purges of alienages? Are there groups like the chavaliers or mobs of humans going about an killing elves because 'It's your Gods. It's your fault.'

Obviously, it isn't. But there are plenty of examples in Thedas' history of people acting rashly/cruelly out of terror and anger - and it's the most vulnerable people, like the Elves and Mages, who are targeted.

The Dalish Elves, what remains of them, would likely be perceived as 'Blight/Old God worshipers' - people would chase them off for the 'crime' of living too close to them in the woods in DAO.

Terrified, angry people would not care if the Dalish said they had nothing to do with what's happening - there would be bloodshed.

If anything improved for the elves from the time of Origins -> Mahariel, Tabris, Lavellan, or Briala...it's likely back to ground one as the best possible outcome, and closer to the Exalted March on the Dales at it's worst.

Mages

Mages could, potentially, have been living a life of unprecedented acceptance if Leliana was Divine -> along come the Evanuris, mages, who are allied with the Venatori who are causing devastation in Orlais and the Free Marches specifically.

Missive - Message from the Front -> The Tide Turns "The Venatori and the Orlesian royal armies clash daily in Orlais. Val Royeaux is now under control of the rebels, and from there the Venatori launch attacks as far east as Kirkwall."

The original magisters (evanuris) wielding the Blight and Old Gods 2.0 x2.

Any templars who remained, who had the old mindset and outlook of how mages should be treated, absolutely would be pointing at the venatori and saying "we warned you what would happen without the Order."

Normal people wouldn't give a shit that it's only a 'few' mages -> their entire home is gone, their families are dead, and the people responsible are wielding magic.

Fear of magic would likely be at an all time high - If the Order doesn't exist people would likely be demanding for them to come back.

The mages - whatever goodwill they earned - are likely being faced with suspicion and terror because this is proof of what magic can do in the hands of power-hungry douchebags.

Maybe they help to fight and people don't get so suspicious of them - who knows! This game doesn't want to address the previous games so it's in limbo.

Spirits

Other people have done great posts about how the spirits were completely tossed aside in this game. Three games worth of humanizing spirits, with Justice and Cole, only to go back on it with Solas reinforcing the Veil and...maintaining the status quo?

He so earnestly discussed with us his perspective on spirits and how they're just as 'real' as those on this side of the Veil - we saw it with Cole firsthand. But I guess they can all chill in the Fade till Solas dies or whatever.

I'd argue that the elves and mages are in an even worse position than they were in Origins. It's just not fulfilling, to me at least, to see the World I got so invested in just regress to the status quo after three games of challenging it. For it to not be meaningfully discussed or spoken about in-game, just brushed aside...I may not have liked the decision to do this but it could have been interesting (at least) if they actually discussed it.

Also, people don't just 'band together' because of the Blight - Origins showed us very well that in times of strife and pressure peoples petty/deeply ingrained beliefs, prejudices, and values come to the forefront. Alistair's comment about “You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together" -> was him being snarky about how everybody as Ostagar was on the verge of throwing hands with each other. They were united in cause not in belief - the cause being to eradicate the darkspawn.

It's just so grim, and with how they handled sociopolitical issues and moral complexity in datv (not at all) I have no hope that they'll be able to address this at all, if they even bother to and don't just...ignore it, I guess.

Maybe this is what the devs meant when they said that the 'tone' was similar to Origins - just straight up erasing whatever strides was made in the previous games and setting it back to square one lmao

[thedissonantverses]

Spamming Davrin’s tag today cause I’m deep in my feels but well I saw a post about how much a person hated the companion quests. My particular gripe with it was saying the griffons and Davrin’s whole quest is superfluous in Veilguard…because nothing about any of the companion quests are superfluous but especially the Grey Warden companion rescuing the last griffons in the world and giving them a new future. It’s where the Grey Wardens have been heading for centuries. It’s integral to the story. It’s vital to understand because it’ll help you understand the rest of what Veilguard has to say. It’s also one of my favorite parts of the lore for a reason and has been since Dragon Age:Last Flight.

The griffons are a symbol in this game of Thedas’ past, present, and future. It’s the culmination of years of lore. It shows you exactly who the Grey Wardens are. Corrupted caretakers, stewards of a world constantly on the brink. The people that will blight the creatures they care for the most if it means saving the world. The griffons coming back to Thedas represents healing in a world that desperately needs to lay down its past and focus on its future. It’s a beautiful message of conservation at a time where we really need more stories about what environmental restoration can look like. The Grey Wardens can finally look forward instead of being chained to the blight alone and what they did to the world and what the world did to them. (This is the whole point of the questline in Hossberg as well.)

It also just dismisses Davrin! Davrin, who is so, so much more than Assan and Iyessa and the griffons and I can’t expound on this enough either. Davrin can just as easily give into regret after Weisshaupt the way Isseya did. But instead he learns to live when he was never supposed to. Davrin, a man far too intelligent to be merely a weapon. Davrin, a man who sings to the halla. Davrin, a man writing a monster manual because he doesn’t want other people to get hurt or learn the hard way like he did. Davrin who carries the weight of his Dalish heritage no matter how far from home he roams. I relate to this on a very personal level haha. Davrin’s journey is this journey of setting down your sword and carving out a new life for yourself despite the horrors you’ve come to know intimately. You are more than just your scars.

Veilguard as a whole is a strong narrative and one that resonates with me because of its message of healing from trauma. Davrin’s quest is representative of the Grey Wardens and the Elves as a whole. It is incredibly intentional with its messaging. I’m just sad so many people will dismiss one of my favorite bits of lore and one of my favorite companions we’ve ever gotten when it’s so well-done.

[absoluteditto]

Lucanis Dellamorte is such an enigma. After a year of torture at the hands of Zara Renata, and upon learning of his grandmother's death, he says he needs to work. It is easier to bury your head in the sand and hide from the fact that you feel as though you've failed everyone who ever depended on you. And yet, as soon as he is out of the atmosphere created by such heavy grief, he begins to open up.

He has always cared far too deeply. His compassion is what angered Zara enough to act against him. Rather than stick to the contract against Ambrose Forfex, he insisted that the elves he tortured deserved justice. Retribution. He makes sure that the orchestrator of all of that misery pays for his crimes in the most painful way possible.

When Lucanis gets to the Lighthouse and realizes that his new compatriots aren't eating nearly well enough to fuel their bodies for the fights to come, he takes the initiative and begins preparing meals, alongside Bellara, who he finds refreshingly honest and surprisingly compassionate.

He buys mint for Harding to help with her dreams. He knows what it is like to be haunted by nightmares so frightening that you wake up screaming. He buys Bellara some fish for a Dalish recipe that she wants to cook. He knows how much food can connect you to your home, and help heal your heart when you feel so alone in the world. He buys fruit for Neve as she hardly eats anything more than fried fish. Except I feel that this one goes deeper. He sees so much of himself in her. She is what he could be if he opened up a bit more, perhaps if he offers something sweet it will build a bridge that allows him to come out of his shell more, to learn how to love and be loved simply for being who he is.

And, if you wait until you recruit the rest of the companions, he gets something for them as well. He gets a bone for Assan to chew on. Caterina would never let him have a pet as a child, and though he tries to act nonchalant about it, having an animal that is always so enthusiastic to be pet fills him with no small amount of joy. Of course he would want to spoil the good boy! For Taash he gets spices. They've learned so much about themselves since joining the Veilguard, and growing up multicultural introduced them to many foods. The easiest way for him to share his culture is through his cooking. And for dear Emmrich, he picks up wine glasses. Lucanis is a man who has enjoyed the fine things in life since birth, but he is far too trained in reading people to believe the same of Emmrich. The Professor enjoys the fine things in life because he worked hard to achieve them, and he respects that. So he brings a bit of his home's finery to the Lighthouse for Emmrich to enjoy. -= This next bit is about my Crow Rook & the wyvern tooth dagger =-

And once he's finally done with his shopping and ready to get back to work, Rook, the woman who broke into his prison and freed him, treated him like he was simply a man even when he felt like a monster, bought him something. A dagger. He is suddenly drawn back to many years ago, attempting to gift a dagger to the other young Crow who he was infatuated with, only to have it seen as a threat. Upon wrestling his thoughts back, he realizes it's a wyvern tooth dagger.

He meets her gaze, and she has a knowing smirk on her face. He feels a warmth in his chest as he admits that he was quite fascinated with wyverns as a child (he still is, but she doesn't need to know that) and that Caterina had never allowed him to have a dagger like this. Her smirk turns into a content smile as they head towards Café Pietra, and he begins talking to her about the different types of wyverns that you can find all across Thedas.

She doesn't interrupt him once, simply asks questions about particular habits, and inquires if his fascination with Wyverns also translates to an interest in dragons.

[solasfenheral]

some bemused vg bitching below the cut

i am. very bemused by the way this game seems to pull its punches at certain moments. like its afraid to really step on your toes and get in your face thematically. which is a deeply strange experience considering i've never ever felt this way about a dragon age game before???

to be honest. I half wonder if it is a product of this game being a sequel that came out so long after it's previous title and right off the heels of two games that received cold to lukewarm reception critically and within the community. I know there would've been extreme pressure internally for this game to be a critical and commercial success and you see that in how polished it is, how there have been huge technological improvements in things like hair which bioware has always gotten some flack for. and I can't help but feel that history contributed to how. cautious of me this game feels at times.

but its just. strange. it feels so strange to get something like the push up scene at the end of taash's personal quest chain. like what are you doing, with this lukewarm defense of trans identity. have some BITE about it man, I know you care about this! it's like the game doesn't want to commit to locking you out of companion content because they wouldn't tolerate transphobia but also doesn't want to accept it, so you end up with this bizarre kind of. half ass defense of transness without really standing its ground about it.

and one hand I get it because I don't want taash's storyline to be about defending themselves from player transphobia when they're already struggling with coming to terms w their identity throughout the game, but this scene man. its so damn strange.

and like. the way this game handles religion is so damn bizarre to me! which is a critique I've again, never felt for a da game! it feels SO strange for bellara to be like. lol yeah the gods being evil actually makes it EASIER for me to let them go like ffdsjkfhjks what....? epler I am in your HOUSE, this is not how faith worksssss

in trying, it feels like, to avoid steeping on toes about what the revelation of the gods would MEAN to the elves, vg just. really fails to grapple with the importance of faith in people's lives and the pain of what losing that or it being challenged means.

i wouldn't even be as annoyed if like. at least ONE of our dalish companions had complicated feelings about their faith and it was something they could discuss between them! it would be really interesting to contrast davrin's pragmatism, his preoccupation MORE with the lived reality elves might suffer with this knowledge come to light under the current systems of oppression, his understanding of the dalish mythology as important to his culture and his sense of SELF w/o ever having really believed in them personally, with someone like bellara who DID believe and is working through an arc about grief and trying to find a new understanding of what dalish culture looks like now with such a key tenant being challenged!

how do you understand death and what comes beyond death when such a central pillar of your life has been challenged! oh my GOD the depth the funeral scene gains when u have this subtext.

there's not a single banter on how harding reconciles her understanding of the Titans to her belief in the maker!

its just. CRAZY to me that this game seems to be trying to dodge the religious and political bite of its own story fsdhfjkds aaaaaaaa

man this isn't even touching how bizarrely fast rook's regret prison does its switcheroo and goes from neve/bellara's blaming rook for losing them to rook going don't worry your death wasn't my fault to davrin/lace like my GOD lemme stew in the survivor's guilt man ur not even giving me an understanding of why rook can process this!! lace or davrin literally died like! 10 minutes ago to their understanding!!!

[shadow-kid-cole]

hold me close (and mind the blood on my hands)

Rook disappears the moment everyone returns from rescuing the Dalish in Arlathan. Lucanis checks in, and realizes several things very quickly:

1. There is a great deal more wrong with Rook than he'd realized;

2. He is completely, overwhelmingly not equipped to handle this; and

3. He has to handle it regardless - it's Rook. There is simply no other option.

(or, Rook's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day)

read it on ao3!

hey gang! it's been a while. i haven't written anything substantial in YEARS at this point, but despite any complaints i may have about veilguard, it launched me back into writing sad dragon age fics at terminal velocity. i have way too many thoughts and feelings about my rook, and even more about the dynamic with my rook and lucanis.

this is set after committing to the relationship, immediately after the return from the blood of arlathan quest. the relationship is established, but is still very new, and prior to this they've mostly still danced around each other.

my rook is named and described, and has their backstory fleshed out - sorry to those looking for generic!Rook fics, but this isn't the one for you! also, their backstory parallels that of my tabris warden with everything that entails, but the type of violence is left unspecified, so be wary if that's a hard line for you.

other warnings include: symptoms of mental illness, PTSD, and hallucinations.

The aftermath of rescuing the Dalish from the Venatori went like this.

The team returned, battered, bruised, but alive. The Dalish were brought along until the Veil Jumpers could find them a safer place to stay. Everyone was exhausted and still feeling the fear of running out of time, but the mood was otherwise high - they had won. They had saved people this time. Not even Elgar’nan’s monstrous archdemon could take that away.

Everyone took their time drifting back off to their own spaces to clean up; there was an air of subdued celebration around the Lighthouse, long overdue.

Everyone, that is, except for Rook.

Nearly the moment they stepped through the eluvian, Rook vanished with only the retreating sound of their footsteps on the stairs to mark where they’d gone. Lucanis watched them go, trading a concerned glance with Harding. She stepped closer and lowered her voice, murmuring “Something’s up with them. They haven’t said a word since we found the Dalish.”

Lucanis had noticed, too - the entire way back, Rook had been silent, staring at the distance with a haunted look in their eyes. Several members of the clan had tried to thank them, and they hadn’t even seemed to recognize that anyone was speaking. He’d asked if they were alright, and they had only nodded, slow and quiet. Rook was many things; slow and quiet were not typically among them.

“Did Neve or Bellara say anything else about what happened?” he asked.

Harding shook her head. “No, they’re both shaken but okay. I saw Bellara watching them, too, on the way back. She seemed surprised they didn’t want to talk to the Dalish.”

Lucanis looked back at the staircase, frowning. “I’ll give them some time - this mission was hard, and they may just need to rest. But I’ll check in later, see if anything else happened.”

“You may want to push those plans up a bit,” a voice added from his other side. Neve slowed and leaned in as she walked past them, adding, “I don’t know what happened, but the moment they saw the clan, it was like they just… shut down. Which is odd, because between then and getting trapped in Elgar’nan’s maze, they were crying.”

Lucanis stiffened, worry flickering to life. He had seen many things from Rook, in some truly abysmal circumstances; he had yet to see them cry.

“What? Did you talk to them?” he asked, trying to ignore Spite demanding they leave right that instant.

Neve crossed her arms. “I was a little busy trying not to get killed. We didn’t have time for a heart-to-heart.”

Harding sighed, looking back to Lucanis. “I’ve known Rook a long time now, and I’ve never seen them cry. Not even when everything’s falling apart. They trust you; I don’t think they’d be honest with anyone but you right now. You should go.” The words had no resentment to them, only concern. Harding had always been one of their best; Lucanis found himself more grateful than ever for her constant steady presence.

He nodded sharply, resting a brief hand on her shoulder as he turned for the stairs. With another nod to Neve, he left, forcing himself not to rush up the stairs two at a time. No point in worrying the others; this was uncharted territory with Rook, but if he knew them at all then he knew that they wouldn’t want people walking on eggshells around them.

Rook’s door was closed when he arrived. He knocked gently, listening to silence for a moment before saying, “Rook? It’s me. Can I come in?”

For a long moment, there was no answer. Spite was growing louder with every passing second, working himself up until he was shouting for Lucanis to just break the door down.

Lucanis didn’t think it was locked in the first place, but there was no point in arguing.

Finally, though, he heard Rook’s voice, the quietest and most defeated he’d ever heard them sound. “Fine.”

He pushed the door open slowly. At first, he didn’t see them; the room was dark save for the gentle glow of the water through the glass. It took him a moment to focus past that. At first glance, it always reminded him in stunning, horrific clarity of the Ossuary. But that was long since past; Rook had saved him twice over from that place. He forced down the immediate recoil that raced along his skin and stepped carefully into the room, closing the door behind him.

It took only a moment to find Rook, and to realize why he hadn’t seen them at first. They were on the floor in front of their couch, their whole body curled in like they were trying to make themself as small as they could possibly be. They were trembling, he realized at the same moment that he heard their breathing; far too fast, ragged and loud in the silence of the room.

Alarmed, he knelt in front of them, reaching out but stopping himself before he could touch them. They’d confided in him once that an unexpected touch could bring up bad memories, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt them, especially in a state like this.

“Rook? What happened?” He asked, trying and failing to keep the worst of the urgency out of his voice. They still hadn’t looked at him; their face was buried in their arms, copper-pink curls wild around their head where their hands were gripping tight. They shook their head, breathing only growing faster. He forced himself to calm slightly, if only for their sake, and tried a different tactic. 

“Lin? Would you please look at me?” he asked, soft as he could manage. He’d never used this name for them before, though they’d said he could; it felt strange after knowing them only as Rook for so long, and the way that they had looked when they told him about it made it clear that it was a name from fond memories, a sweet, familiar shortening of their full name, Lindiranae. He’d never felt right to use it. Even after everything, it felt too personal, too close - but maybe that was what they needed now. Not to be Rook, leader and god-killer, but just Lin, an elf from Ferelden.

At that, they looked up, something like shock piercing briefly through the misery etched across their face. The depth of it stunned him. Tears streaked their face. Red marks like they’d clawed at their own skin marred their cheeks; no broken skin, he noted, but raised and angry nonetheless. A cut high on their cheekbone from their fight with the Venatori had reopened, and blood oozed lazily down until it met tear tracks, dripping off their chin tinged red.

For a single heartbeat, Lucanis was paralyzed with indecision. How could he help without making things worse, especially if they couldn’t speak to tell him what they needed? Before he could even attempt anything, however, the problem was solved for him - Rook all but launched themself at him, fingers tangled desperately in the fabric at his back as they buried their face in his shoulder. A sob tore out of them like they’d fought to keep it buried, and suddenly they were weeping in his arms like the world had ended.

It terrified him, but this at least he could do. Without another word, he tightened his hold, pulling them all the way against his chest and pressing his lips to the top of their head. If nothing else, he could weather this with them, and hold them together until they stopped falling apart at the seams.

He whispered reassurances against their hair, cradling them as they cried. He could feel the tension in their body; every muscle felt rigid, every joint locked to the point of trembling. It made his heart ache. How many nights had he spent in the Ossuary, alone, entire body stiff with the effort it took to keep his fear and grief and sorrow buried? Whatever they were feeling, they had been carrying it for a long time. He’d always seen the way their shoulders curved in, the slump to their spine when they thought no one else was looking. He knew that while they had shared some of their past with him, there was so much more he wasn’t privy to, and it ate away at them in a way that took a physical toll. He clutched them a little tighter, wishing not for the first time that battles of the mind could be fought with knives, and that they didn’t need to be fought alone in the end.

Slowly, Lin’s breathing began to quiet. They were no longer gasping for air. Their desperate sobs calmed, going from wracking, breaking things to soft whimpers that made his chest seize. After a long, long time, they lifted their head just slightly, acknowledging that the worst was over without quite meeting his eye.

“Sorry,” they whispered, voice still thick with tears. “Didn’t want you to see me like this.”

In spite of himself, the corner of Lucanis’ mouth twitched up. “That’s my line,” he murmured, hearing a quiet chuckle from them. “Mi vida, there is nothing you can show me that will scare me away. Not now. Not after everything we have been through.”

They sighed, the tension in their shoulders finally easing a bit as they laid back against him. Their arms remained wrapped around him, but hung looser at his waist now. He brought one hand up to brush aside their hair, cupping their cheek and gently turning their face towards him. The warm olive of their skin was flushed, the deep red tattoos and pinkish scars across their face fading into the color. They looked younger, he thought. Less miserable now than when he’d arrived, at least. Their eyes weren’t quite dry yet, but despite the sadness that lingered, there was a spark of their usual joy as they finally met his gaze.

“I don’t deserve you,” they said softly, leaning into his touch and pressing a gentle kiss to his palm.

He shook his head. “Don’t. I would not even be here if it weren’t for you. You saved my life, Rook. More than that, you have shown me more compassion in a few short months than I have known my entire life. You deserve everything I can give you and more.”

Their eyes welled again, and they hid their face against his neck, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“You called me Lin, earlier,” they said, voice muffled. “I didn’t- I didn’t realize that I missed being called that name. I like ‘Rook,’ but it’s starting to feel like they’re not quite me. Larger than life, a leader, a hero…” Their voice turned sour on the final word. “I’m not a hero. A hero would have succeeded all the times I failed. Would’ve stayed with the clan, or have saved my sister and stayed in Denerim in the first place.”

“And you would have never stopped Solas, never planned to save the world, never brought any of us together,” Lucanis countered, tucking away the new information about a clan and a sister away in the back of his mind. “You never would have saved me, and we would not be here now. The Dalish are safe, we are safe for the time being; if you’re not a hero, Lin, then I don’t know who is.”

Still hiding their face, they mumbled something that sounded like “Don’t know if I want to be.”

To that, Lucanis had no answer. He kissed the top of their head and finally settled on “Then you’re not. You’re just you, and no matter what the rest of the world may believe, that is enough. After all, it got you this far.”

They finally broke into the barest hint of a wobbly smile. “I’ll steal your other line, then; how do you always do that?”

He grinned. “Do what?”

“‘Break apart my perfectly gathered clouds of doom,’” they quoted at him in a poor imitation of his accent. At that, he laughed. Relief swept through him; here was his Rook. His strange, vicious, vibrant Rook. Maker, but they were everything.

“Someone has to,” he said. “You watch over everyone else; someone should be watching over you, too.”

“I think that’s what I have you for,” they said, smile growing.

Unable to help himself, he pressed a kiss to their forehead, feeling them take in a breath beneath him. This was quickly becoming a habit, it seemed, as though he hadn’t done it for the first time just minutes ago.  “Always, corazón.”

For a quiet moment, they sat, tangled together on the floor; they didn’t seem inclined to move, or even notice that they were curled together closer than they’d ever been. They were slowly relaxing in his arms. All the time he’d known them, Rook had always been cautious with touch. They often moved like they were going to lay a friendly hand on his shoulder, tap Davrin’s arm for emphasis, grab Bellara’s shoulder to keep her steady - and then, they always stopped before making contact. He’d seen them flinch away from others on the battlefield; he also knew, however, that if they were comfortable, tired, or inebriated,  they began to lean further into touch, instead. They’d always been careful with him, too, never touching unless they knew he could see it coming. He’d never known a thoughtfulness like theirs. It was appreciated; after so long in the Ossuary, any contact, friendly or otherwise, was often too much to bear. He’d been finding, lately, that this was less and less true the longer he spent with this team.

But now, they were curled in his lap like a cat in a sunny window. He wondered idly if this was how they had been once; if little Rook growing up in the alienage had been free with their affection and not thought anything of casual, everyday touch. The thought twisted a little in his heart. They likely missed it, but held themself back out of either a respect for others’ traumas, or their own.

At that thought, he pulled back a bit to look at them. “I am… not the best at this part, but did you want to talk about it? Neve said that you just… shut down, when you found the Dalish. Did something happen?”

They sighed, swiping a hand under their eyes. “No. Well, yes, but a long time ago. It’s just that - the clan we saved was the clan I belonged to once.”

Whatever Lucanis had expected, this wasn’t it. No wonder they’d had such a reaction.

“I didn’t even know until we found them, and that whole time… I was already so desperate to save the Dalish, they’re all my people, but I had no idea it was my clan’s lives on the line. If I’d been just a little slower….” they finished, voice going hoarse as they fought back more tears.

“But you weren’t,” Lucanis said firmly. “You got them out. They are safe, and so are you.”

“I know,” they whispered. “It’s just… I already failed them once. If I’d failed them again, and they’d gotten killed because I wasn’t good enough, especially after all the danger everyone put themselves in to help - I couldn’t live with that.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” they repeated. “But when I realized it was them, it was all I could think about.”

Lucanis paused a moment before answering, letting this wealth of new information settle, then said carefully, “I didn’t know that you had belonged to a clan before. I thought you grew up in the city?”

They nodded, their gaze far away. “I did.”

“Then, the clan came later? Can I ask what happened?”

Rook sighed, a tear tracing its way silently down their gaunt cheek. “I… I found them after I was- after I left Denerim,” they said. Lucanis noticed a hesitation as they spoke, and thought back to what little they’d already told him. They had been forced to leave, he knew, after they’d killed a human who had gotten a little too bold in the alienage. He didn’t know the nature of the incident beyond that; he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“I’d been on my own for a few years. I’d always wanted to learn more about the Dalish, be a part of keeping all those old stories the elder in the alienage told us alive. With how we lived… it sounded like a dream come true. Freedom, always moving, allowed to go wherever you wanted - I’d never left home before I had to, and then I never felt safe enough to enjoy the travel.

“When I met them, most of them were kind, sympathetic. I told the Keeper what had happened, and begged her to let me join. She agreed. I was with them for years; they taught me all their stories, and how to hunt, to fight. It was… more peaceful than anything I’d ever known.”

Here they paused, taking a deep, steadying breath. Lucanis frowned. “I am happy to listen, but there is no need to tell me, if you do not wish to.”

Rook shook their head. “No, I - I think I need someone else to know.”

He nodded, threading his fingers through theirs and lightly squeezing their hand in wordless support. They returned the gesture, then continued.

“Many of them were kind, but it was still fairly clear I didn’t belong. I was the only one that wasn’t born to the clan. There were those that never let me forget it.”

“Then they were fools,” Lucanis found himself saying, surprised at the vitriol in his own voice. How much of that was him, he wondered, and how much was Spite? He didn’t suppose it mattered much, not when they were in agreement.

Rook blinked at him, wide amber eyes a little startled. Then they smiled, tucking themself back in closer to him. “Well said, but it hardly matters now. I… grew tired of never feeling like I was good enough. We travelled up closer to Arlathan, and a few hunters were wounded by a demon that had come through one of the Fade tears. The Keeper forbade anyone from going near it, but it was scaring away the halla, killing or driving away prey. I-I guess I thought that if I killed it, they’d finally take me seriously.”

Lucanis’ heart sank. “I assume that’s not what happened.”

They grimaced. “No. I was an idiot, and I should’ve just listened to the Keeper. I convinced a few other hunters to go with me. It was a rage demon, a powerful one. We didn’t stand a chance.”

Their grip on his hand tightened, shaking a little. “It killed one of them, Naeris, almost immediately. The rest of us ran, but it followed. Thea tried to slow it down, and it nearly killed her too. By the time we lost it, I couldn’t breathe from running so far. We waited for hours so that at least we wouldn’t lead it back to the clan. We had to carry Thea back. Naeris was just… gone. We didn’t even know if there was a body to return. Faen was badly hurt. All of us were burned. And I brought them there.”

They were crying again. Lucanis held them close, a terrible understanding dawning over him as so many of the odd little pieces that made up his Rook slotted suddenly into place. No wonder they were so content to let others take the lead on missions, no wonder they shied away from being presented as a leader. No wonder they ran themself ragged jumping at the chance to help people wherever they went, and vanished into themself when they couldn’t.

“The Keeper was furious. She got halfway through telling me I was no longer welcome before I told her I was already leaving. Even if they’d let me stay, I couldn’t, not after that. Only a couple other hunters said anything to defend me, and it didn’t last long. The worst part was the staring. I could feel them all watching me the whole time I packed up to leave. When I actually walked out, almost the whole clan was gathered, just… watching me leave. They were so disappointed, so angry, I-” Their voice broke.

Lucanis was about to put his best effort towards a reassuring response, but then their eyes shifted to the side, as though watching someone in the corner of the room speak. Then, a moment later, “No, that’s the problem, it was my fault! I took them there! It was my stupid idea!”

“Rook? What is happening, who are you talking to?”

“No, it was my fault! My fault I lost you, my fault you’re dead, my fault-” Their voice grew louder with each passing second.

If Lucanis had felt uncertainty and concern before, this sent him into something close to panic. He had seen odd behaviors from Rook on occasion, but never like this. They sounded nearly hysterical now, addressing someone who wasn’t there in response to something that hadn’t been said. Even as he tried to calm them, his mind raced through possibilities. Possession? No, Spite would know. Magic? Unlikely; Spite would sense that, too. Were they seeing things? Had they hit their head fighting the Venatori? No, Bellara and Neve would have said something.

They started to sit up, to pull away from him, shoulders shaking, opening their mouth to respond again in their one-sided conversation. Suddenly, fear gripped him, and it could’ve been either his own inner voice or Spite’s that said dangerous; don’t let them go. Without thinking, he caught their wrist. “Rook - Lin-”

They reacted like an animal in a trap. They surged away, twisting their arm, all but howling - he winced, hating to be the one causing this for them, but he had no idea what was happening. If he let them go in this state, they could hurt themself, or worse. He held fast, reaching out with his other hand to turn their face towards him.

“Rook, please - it’s just me, I’m not going to hurt you-”

“That’s what they always say,” they snarled, their eyes devoid of recognition or even cognizance. They weren’t fully here, he realized. They were living out something else, a memory that had been buried until their conversation had unearthed it. Still, to see this much fear and know that he had caused it was a shame like he’d never known.

“Please, listen - you’re safe, Rook, mi vida, I promise. No dejaré que nada te lastime, please just look at me-”

Their gaze sharpened, focusing on his face even as they continued to struggle against him. For a split second, all he could see was rage and terror. Their nails dug into his arm hard enough to draw blood.

Then something seemed to dawn on them, and they froze, eyes roving across his face like they were trying desperately to place where they knew him from. Their chest rose and fell in short gasps. He could see their pulse fluttering in their throat, could feel it against his fingers. After a long, agonizing moment they whispered “Lucanis?”

“Yes, mi amor, I’m here,” he breathed, brushing curls back from their sweat-damp skin. A breath, then two, then they were shaking their head, looking away with guilt written across their face. “I-I’m so sorry, I don’t-”

He could feel them trying to retreat the way that they had both done before, when everything spilling out of them was too much of a mess to trust other people to help clean. It frightened him, in such a sudden, sharp way that he knew he was past the point of no return. Whatever else happened, whatever they did, whatever the gods threw at them, he loved Rook. He couldn’t bear the thought of them pulling away and trying to deal with this on their own.

Abruptly, he pulled them into the tightest embrace he could. They were warm against his chest. Their babbling apologies cut off with a yelp, and they sat rigid for a moment before tentatively raising their hands to his back.

“What? Lucanis, I-I don’t understand, I-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he interrupted. “I will not leave you alone in this. Whatever happens, we face it together.”

He felt their grip tighten, their face fall against his shoulder. For the second time that day, he held them as they cried, with the sudden understanding that every day could be like this and he would never once complain. He would do anything they needed of him. He would kill a hundred blighted gods to keep them safe.

“I’m still so, so sorry,” they choked out through tears. “I didn’t- I wasn’t myself, and I - oh, creators, did I hurt you?” They tried to pull back to look at his arm, but he shook his head and refused to let go.

“No, corazón. You did not hurt me.”

They sniffled, relaxing fully against him again, and took a slow, deep breath. Their racing heart began to calm; he could still feel their pulse hammering beneath their skin, but it was less frantic now.

“I’m… usually better at knowing when it’s real,” they murmured, with the air of someone admitting a deeply painful secret. “It’s harder when I’ve already been thinking about the past. Like it all catches up to me, and I have no idea when or where I am.”

Lucanis shut his eyes, breathing in the faint scent of juniper that lingered in their hair. How long had they been dealing with this? To spend their life haunted by ghosts - though, now was perhaps not the time for every question he wanted to ask. Just the first, then.

“Who do you see? Or what?” he asked gently, finally loosening his hold so that he could look at them.

They kept their eyes firmly on the floor, fidgeting with the frayed hem of the sleeve they’d wiped across their cheeks. “My-my sister, mostly. But there are others. And it’s not all the time, it’s worse when I’m tired, or stressed. It’s not so bad when it’s just her - she’s still kind to me, usually. Tells me things aren’t my fault. The others, though…” they shuddered, shaking their head. “I see… I see that first human I killed sometimes. He says horrible things. So does the other one, his friend. Sometimes he kills my sister all over again, on the really bad days.”

“Rook… I am so sorry,” Lucanis said, letting his forehead rest against theirs. “I will not ask you to stay in those memories any longer; just know that if I could carve my way through time itself to prevent them from ever reaching you, I would.” He could feel something like rage boiling in him. Of all the people to see things like this, he could think of few who deserved it less than them. Those two men had begun all of this back in their alienage, and that single choice had warped Rook’s entire life, to the point that over a decade later they still haunted them at every turn. Cowardice, selfishness; Lucanis wanted to stab something. He settled for taking Rook’s hand and pressing a soft kiss to their knuckles. There would be time for all of that later, to determine what exactly they were going through and how best to help them. For now, they had to be exhausted. They needed to rest.

When he looked up and saw them staring at him, wide-eyed, he froze, righteous anger dissipating as he realized how absurd this whole situation was. All of this, easy vulnerability and intimacy the likes of which he’d never imagined sharing with another person, and he still hadn’t even kissed them properly. He nearly had, that day in the pantry, but he’d panicked at the last second. So much for his Crow training.

He’d have to rectify that, and soon - but not now. They deserved a first kiss done correctly. Not a spur-of-the-moment thing tempered by tears and blood, but something properly sweet - like honey and lavender cream, he’d told them once.

Carefully, he extricated himself and stood, holding out a hand to help them up. They took it gratefully, leaning against him for one last brief moment before sitting heavily on the couch. Deep shadows ringed their eyes. They rubbed at their face, blinking blearily up at him - they seemed calm, now, if still a little sad.

“‘m tired,” they said, the words slow and indistinct. “I should - I’m gonna take a nap. Can you… Can you just stay until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

As they stretched out, Lucanis dampened a cloth in the washbasin in the corner of the room. He crouched beside them, and they smiled softly at him, eyes already heavy with the promise of sleep. He held up the cloth in lieu of asking out loud. They nodded, wincing a little as he ran it gently over the cut on their cheek.

He felt a small, calloused hand slip into his as he finished cleaning the cut. When he looked up, Rook’s eyes were already closed. He set the cloth aside and sat back down on the floor beside them, careful not to move too much. As their breathing evened out, he leaned forward and pressed a feather-light kiss to the top of their head. They curled unconsciously closer to him and let out a soft sigh. He smiled.

Right now, they just needed steady comfort. He wasn’t sure he was quite qualified, but he loved them, and that would have to be enough.

[fenharelsfang]

"I don't think I'm ready for this."

The Winter Palace loomed over the Inquisition agents as they stepped through the wrought-iron gate into the front gardens, a colossal silhouette against the twilit sky, crowned in gold and glittering with the setting sun. The soft yellow light of ornate lamp posts dotted the landscape like stars in the night. Violets and lilies adorned bushes in marble planters, their sweet fragrance permeating the air. A large fountain sat in an alcove at the back of the gardens, two sets of stairs curving up to the entrance of the palace proper. Cool, crystal clear water flowed gently over a circle of golden winged lions.

"It's too late to back out now, Inquisitor,” said Josephine, ambassador of the Inquisition. She wore an off-shoulder golden bouffant dress accentuated with embroidered flowers and vines. Her raven-colored hair, usually kept in a low-hanging bun, was now free and draped over one shoulder. She wore a delicate golden amulet adorned with a ruby in its center. Gold eyeliner complimented her hazel eyes.

“Do stop slouching, please,” she continued as she scrutinized the Inquisitor’s appearance. “How you present yourself is a matter of life and death when it comes to the Game. It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness. Even more so when we approach the court. The Inquisition must not show weakness or they will eat us alive."

Ellana Lavellan, the Inquisitor currently being berated by her diplomatic advisor for her posture, straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. None of what Josephine said made her feel any better about the situation, though.

"Correction: I know I am not ready for this."

Ellana was Dalish! They didn't go to fancy balls or dress in the latest human fashion. She didn't even own a dress! What she wore now was entirely too thin and fragile to survive a day in the forest. However, Josephine insisted she look the part of a proper Lady. Elves had an ethereal beauty to them and it needed to be flaunted if they were to impress Empress Celene. Ellana felt that would be easy, considering Celene used to have an elven lover, but Josephine's fretting over the downfall of the Inquisition's reputation would not abate.

Now, Ellana stood before her fellow agents in a white silk gown, cinched at the waist by a golden brooch with the Inquisition symbol etched into it. The gown had a plunging neckline, framed by a high collar that was tied with golden string at the collarbone. It was simple, but the added golden embellishments gave it an air of elegance that was hard to deny. With her light blonde hair woven into an intricate updo and accentuated by a golden winged circlet, she was the epitome of what the Herald of Andraste should look like.

... Aside from the pointed ears and the face tattoos honoring a goddess who was not the Maker.

As they were actually here in the Winter Palace to prevent an assassination, Ellana had alterations made to the dress. The skirt could be peeled off, revealing leggings underneath that would allow her to move without exhibiting her undergarments for all to see. The skirt was also long enough that it hid her feet. They sported bottomless sandals rather than the jeweled slippers that Josephine wanted her to wear. Ellana needed to feel the ground underneath her feet. Elemental magic was her specialty and shoes got in the way of channeling the energy of the earth.

"Smile, Inquisitor. Eyes are upon us," Leliana encouraged. Her smile, relaxed and confident, was entirely uncharacteristic of the usually cold and deadly demeanor of the spymaster. She almost looked at home among the elite of Orlais and Ellana had to remind herself that this was all a façade.

The Inquisitor flashed a smile at passing nobles that didn’t quite reach her emerald eyes due to her growing anxiety. Leliana’s own smile faltered and she silently shook her head to get Ellana to stop.

"Honestly, you aren't doing yourself any favors with the company you've decided to bring with you," Josephine muttered under her breath, not paying the slightest bit of attention to the Inquisitor’s struggle. The Antivan glanced behind them to take in their entourage. Everyone was dressed in fine red velvet suits trimmed in gold with blue sashes extending across their chests and wrapping around their waists. At least they were uniform in that regard.

Ellana tilted her head at the ambassador. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, an apostate elf? A Qunari spy? A spirit boy? Dorian at least has some exposure to the nobility, but he's from Tevinter!"

"I am technically an apostate elf, too, mind you," Ellana shot back defensively, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Solas has given me good counsel since the beginning of this whole ordeal." The slight curving of Leliana's lips did not go unnoticed by her and she quickly continued. "They won't even remember seeing Cole and Iron Bull knows how to behave in court. He wouldn't be a Ben-Hassrath if he couldn't blend into his surroundings."

Josephine sighed. "I suppose, but Madame Vivienne, Varric, Blackwall, or even Cassandra would have been a better choice."

It was an unspoken agreement that bringing Sera would be a catastrophe.

"As you said yourself: it's too late to back out now. Let's just get this over with."

She took one step before spotting Duke Gaspard weaving his way through the crowd of nobles in the garden. He wore a suit of teal silk brocade, adorned with silverite pauldrons. A red sash was draped over his broad chest. His face, as was Orlesian custom, was hidden behind a golden half-mask. Ellana could barely see his eyes through the slits and it unnerved her greatly. You could gauge an individual's intentions through their eyes, creature or human. Did he have something to hide?

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor Lavellan," he greeted in a thick Orlesian accent. He took her hand and kissed the back of it, the stubble of his beard leaving red scratch marks on her skin. She resisted the urge to wince.

"Bringing the rebel mages into the ranks of your army was a brilliant move," he continued and leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. "Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais!"

Ah, so he was fishing for support. He figured he had an edge on the competition since she accepted his invitation to the masquerade. Arrogant man.

"Oh?" she asked and put a finger to her chin thoughtfully. "Which one was the rightful one, again? I keep getting them confused."

Gaspard let out a genuine laugh, the sound emanating from deep within his chest. "Why, the handsome, charming one of course, my lady!"

She could feel his eyes graze over her body appraisingly, lingering for no small amount of time on her chest, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The dress was definitely a mistake. Behind her, the air cooled considerably and Solas cleared his throat. The agonizingly long moment ended and Gaspard extended an arm for her to take.

"My lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper?" He grinned devilishly down at her.

She, playing the part of charming guest, smiled up at him, all teeth and dimpled cheeks. "I can't imagine that crowd has seen anything better than us in their entire lives," she joked. Gaspard laughed and placed a hand over the one holding his arm. He pierced her with his gaze through those slitted eyes.

"You are a woman after my own heart," he replied, voice husky. Oh no, she was making this worse. The hand resting over her own was pressed up against her breast, a rather sly way to grope her. The Game was not something she was adept at. Was this even part of the Game? All she knew was that she couldn't part from him soon enough.

They ascended the stairs towards the entrance of the Winter Palace and, along the way, the whispers of the nobles did not go unnoticed.

"Is that the Inquisitor?"

"An elven savage? Maker forbid!"

"Andraste would never choose a knife-ear as her herald."

"Is this Gaspard's idea of a joke?"

"Perhaps she's his whore. She certainly dresses like one."

"Those marks on her face are hideous."

Each comment was a dagger to her pride. Her cheeks burned with shame. They had a point: why would Andraste choose an elf to save Thedas? Ellana didn't even believe in the Maker. Their opinions shouldn't have mattered, but they did. It wasn't just because they were directed at her. She was the face of the Inquisition and a negative opinion of her would reflect poorly on her people. They deserved better than that.

The walk to the front entrance stretched on for an eternity. Ellana did her best to keep her composure and block out the horrible remarks, with little success. She was vaguely aware of Gaspard speaking to her about his concerns for the night, namely that Briala, the elven ambassador, was up to something with her legion of servants. Ellana’s jaw tightened.

"Tell me there's more to your suspicion than 'the elves were acting dodgy'," she interrupted, her tone taking on a sharp edge. Gaspard was taken aback by her sudden change in mood. Of course he didn't notice what was being said about her. Or he did, but didn't care. Elves meant less than nothing to humans.

"Briala used to be a servant of Celene's," Gaspard argued. "That is, until my cousin had her arrested for crimes against the empire to cover up a political mistake. If anyone in this room wishes Celene harm, Inquisitor, it's that elf. She certainly has reason."

Right, the assassination attempt. That's what really mattered. Why should she care what those idiot nobles thought of her when the fate of the world was at stake? And yet it gnawed away at her from the inside all the same. Perhaps she was afraid those remarks were mere echoes of her own thoughts.

"I'll look into it," she said, deflated.

Gaspard sighed. "Be as discreet as possible," he warned. "I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains."

He relinquished her arm when they entered the vestibule and left to mingle with a few of the guests. Ellana breathed a sigh of relief and turned to face her entourage.

"When you meet the empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you," Josephine reminded her. She smoothed out a crinkle in Ellana's dress and adjusted her collar. "You were safer staring down Corypheus, I'm afraid. The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death. You must never reveal your cards."

A wave of nausea swept over Ellana. Her heart pounded against her ribcage like a war drum. Outside, she had fresh air, but in the palace the walls seemed to press in, threatening to crush her. Through it all, the disparaging remarks of the nobles were building to a crescendo in her mind, drowning out all other noise.

"You're just full of joy and light this evening," she managed to croak out when Josephine continued to stare at her. It was supposed to be a light-hearted jest but lacked the substance.

"Everything will be fine," Josephine said, to herself more than anyone else. "Andraste watch over us all."

The group broke apart then, Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana ascending another set of stairs to scope out the perimeter before the festivities started.

"I’m headed to the buffet,” said Bull as he patted his growling stomach. "I'm starving."

"Vishante kaffas, don't just shovel it in your mouth like a savage, you oaf," Dorian grumbled. He followed after the Qunari to try to prevent a disaster.

Cole had already vanished.

The anticipation of the night's events threatened to overwhelm Ellana and she tried to quickly and gracefully descend another set of stairs that led into a storage room. She just needed a moment to collect herself, a place to catch her breath. There was a mirror in the storage room with a great golden frame, a lion head jutting out on either side of the arch. She caught her reflection in it as she paced the small space and stopped. Her hands went to her knife-shaped ears, traced the hideous marks on her forehead and cheeks, the Dalish version of a mask. The sudden hatred that consumed her spilled over and she tossed the feathered circlet off of her head, yanking her hair out of the updo that took Josephine hours to do. She tried to style her hair so it would hide her ears. On a table next to the mirror sat a few discarded masks. She picked one up and placed it over her face to hide her vallaslin.

There, now she looked more human. Acceptable ... right? So why did her stomach continue to churn? Why were hot, angry tears threatening to spill over?

"What are you doing?"

Ellana gasped and spun around. She was so caught up in her emotional turmoil that she didn't hear the door open or even see the elf behind her in the mirror.

"Solas! I was just--"

His brows knitted in concern as he took in her wild hair and covered face. 'I'm fine,' was her instinctual response, but it never reached her lips. It was impossible to lie to him. He was wise beyond his years and though they had only known each other a short amount of time, she felt he knew, intimately, the depths of her heart.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted in a whisper, her bottom lip trembling as the tears finally slipped down her cheeks. "This isn't --- Did you hear the things they said? I don't belong here."

He slowly approached her until they were mere inches apart. There was fire in his eyes, a righteous fury. For her? Or maybe he thought her foolish. His fingertips slipped under the edge of the mask, grazing her wet cheeks before gently removing the mask from her face. He tossed it aside, never taking his eyes off of her. Mesmerized, she couldn't look away.

"They are not worth your tears."

His hands cupped her face, wiping her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Her breath hitched in her throat. His hands were rough, calloused, but the gesture was tender. He cradled her face like he was holding the world in his hands, his gaze so intense it was as if nothing else existed in that moment but them. The echoes of the nobles' words faded away as she hung onto every one of his.

"I'm the Inquisitor," she protested. "I'm supposed to represent the Inquisition. This meeting hinges on what the court makes of me and they just see me as an elven savage--! If I were human--"

"You are Elvhen," Solas declared, cutting off her downward spiral. "Our people built an empire that spanned all of Thedas. We created wonders the likes of which no other race has ever accomplished and never will."

This was the first time he had ever referred to her as one of his people. When they first met, he showed such scorn for the Dalish and didn't associate himself with city elves. He stood apart and above everyone else. His name meant 'pride' in the elven language, but she only ever saw him as ... lonely. Now he was including her in his world, the world of the true elves. Who knew whether he was right, but the meaning itself meant everything to her.

"Beyond that," he continued as he circled around behind her, "you are the Inquisitor." His fingers brushed against the nape of her neck as he started to gather her hair into his hands, handling it like it was made of the finest silk. "You command an army that makes nations tremble.” Her scalp tingled as he continued to brush his fingers through her hair. “Ferelden, Orlais, the Free Marches, they hang on to your every word and beg for the salvation that only you can deliver. You stand defiant against a would-be god and his archdemon. Be proud of who and what you are."

He leaned in close to her, lips a hair's breadth from her ear. "And you are the most beautiful woman in this entire palace," he murmured. Goosebumps erupted down her arms and the back of her neck, making her shiver, but unlike with Gaspard it was thrilling, not revolting. Desire sparked in her core and she fought back the urge to spin around and crush her lips against his. He was tying her hair up into a bun, not the complicated braided crown that Josephine had created, but loose and elegant, leaving her ears visible for all to see.

"These nobles fear the power you wield. Your beauty is a height they can never hope to reach. Envious, they must try to tear you down instead. Do not let them."

The bun was finished and he stepped back around to her front, his hands planting firmly on her hips. His words stole the breath from her lungs and set her heart fluttering. No one had ever spoken of her that way before. Not her clan, not her friends, not even her former lover. The words rolled off of his tongue so easily like they were waiting to be said.

"Sweet talker," she managed in a breathless whisper.

There was a spark of amusement in his eyes, though it was quickly covered by a solid determination. "I speak the truth," he said and she believed him. Even if it wasn't objectively true, it was to him and needed to be said.

Fear creeped into her voice as the weight of the words made her falter. He held her in such high regard. Maybe too high. "What if I fail?" she asked.

"You won't."

A nervous laugh bubbled out of her. "You have such confidence in me."

"It is well-deserved."

Ellana swallowed, all too aware of the warmth of his hands through the fabric of her dress. She tilted her head back to get a better look at him and tried to take a step closer, but he held her in place. There was a storm churning in his steel blue eyes, a flurry of emotions warring inside of him. Excitement. Adoration. Desire. Then regret, resignation. Behind it all, a sorrow so deep and endless she felt she might drown in it. He was always restraining himself. In the Fade, on the balcony of her room, his heart and mind were at odds with each other. There was an obvious attraction between them. He had already kissed her twice before, but still something kept holding him back. The chains of a past she knew nothing about. He spoke of his journeys through the Fade, but never of himself. All of those pretty words and no follow-up.

"You're always so detached and self-controlled, Solas,” she observed. Her hands rested atop his and felt them tremble as she gently pried them away. "But you don't need to be ... not with me."

Fingers danced along the velvet fabric of his suit before resting against his chest. She could feel his erratic heartbeat through his jacket and knew then that her words were true. So she did have the same effect on him that he had on her. A hesitant step forward closed the distance between them further.

"This is dangerous," he breathed, eyelids drooping. His resolve was faltering.

"I like danger." She gripped the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer. They were mere inches away from each other now.

"Ellana," he warned and a thrill pulsed through her at the sound of her name on his lips.

"What are you so afraid of?"

He struggled to find the words, eyes glossed over as if trapped in a memory. She watched him for a moment, noting the light dusk of freckles across his cheeks and nose, the scar above his brow, the curve of his jaw, the fullness of his lips. It was as if the gods themselves sculpted him. He was beautiful.

She rested a hand against his cheek to pull him back to the present. "Solas?"

"... I don't want to lose you," he finally admitted, leaning into her touch. His fingers curled around hers and her heart ached. There were such thick walls around his heart and though she chipped away at it, she still hadn't completely broken through. Solas was always looking miles ahead of everyone else or behind in his past, but never in the moment.

Her smile was kind, patient. "You still have me," she assured him and traced the line of his jaw down to his chin. "I don't know what the future holds for us. I don't know if we'll defeat Corypheus or what will happen to the Inquisition. I don't know if you and I will stay together or drift apart, but fear of the future shouldn't stop us from enjoying the present. What I do know is that you make me feel ... important. Like I matter beyond my titles. Me, Ellana. Not the Inquisitor, not the Herald of Andraste, not the Keeper's First. Just ... me. You look at me like I'm the only thing that matters .. like the world could crumble all around us and you wouldn't even notice." She glanced down, her cheeks tinged red. "Perhaps it's selfish of me, but I want to be the only one you look at that way."

She felt him take her chin and tip it up, his gaze a smoldering flame that slowly drifted down to settle on her mouth.

"You are."

Their lips met and everything he had held back from her flooded into that kiss. His adoration and desire burned against her like a wildfire. She grew lightheaded from the force of it, but craved the taste of him as a Templar coveted lyrium. They parted for a brief moment to catch their breath and his hands found her waist again, though this time it was to pull her against him. Her dress, so flimsy before, was now far too thick. She wound her arms around his neck, her tongue flicking against his lips. That elicited a groan deep in his chest that rumbled against her own. He was unraveling before her and it exhilarated her. The kiss broke again only for her to pepper more across his jaw and down his throat.

"Ellana," he groaned. It spurred her to start hastily undoing the buttons of his jacket, but he brought her face back up to capture her lips again. The kiss deepened and she felt his tongue in her mouth, gliding along her own. He gripped the backs of her thighs and lifted her up onto his waist, her back hitting the wall. She braced herself against it and wrapped her legs around him for support. His hands slid up underneath her dress and caressed her thighs and she moaned. Her leggings were still in the way, but his fingertips teased along the waistline. That flame he sparked inside of her became an all-consuming fire.

"Solas," she whimpered as kisses traced her collarbone. Her fingers tried to find the buttons of his jacket again, but now his lips were at her breasts. She had awakened a wolf in him that lay dormant for far too long and it was ravenous for the taste of her flesh. He was struggling to bring himself back under control, but she didn't want him to. He brought his lips back to her jawline, his cheek brushing against hers.

"Ar lath, ma vhenan," he breathed and time stopped. She went rigid in his grip and he stared up at her as if surprised the words had spilled from his mouth. They stared at each other, fighting for breath and trying to make sense of the words through their delirium. He slowly lowered her back to the ground, though his arms stayed wrapped around her. She, too, refused to let go of him.

"...You do?" she asked. Her arousal, though definitely still there, was melting into something else.

His eyes searched hers, trying to discern how she felt about the words, but then he set his jaw, resolute. "I do."

The confession hung between them for an agonizing moment and he swallowed, his throat bobbing in anticipation of her reaction. A wide grin spread across her flushed face. There was attraction between them, yes, but she never expected that it went deeper than that for him ... that he loved her, that he would admit it first. She had been in love with him from the moment they met, when he first grabbed her hand and showed her the power that she wielded. He always seemed so lonely and sad, but he would positively light up when speaking about the Fade. She lived for those stories. His smile, as rare and fleeting as it was, could brighten her whole day. When he laughed? Indescribable. She only heard it once and it became her personal mission to hear it again. But her fears mirrored his: she didn't want to lose him either, so she never built up the courage to tell him how she felt. Now he admitted it himself. Her hands cupped his face and she kissed him tenderly.

"Ar lath, ma vhenan," she declared in return.

He flashed her a crooked grin before pulling her back against him, intending to finish what they started.

Until the door to the storage room creaked open.

"There you are, Inquisitor," Josephine announced with no small degree of relief. "We've been looking ev- Oh." The scene before her finally registered and she blushed, averting her eyes respectfully. "Oh, do forgive me." she apologized, "I seem to have opened the wrong door."

"Josephine!” Ellana called out in surprise. Her face turned the shade of spindleweed and she let go of Solas, smoothing out her dress. “It’s fine, we were just–”

Solas glanced over his shoulder at the ambassador before calmly picking Ellana’s circlet off of the floor and placing it back on her head. How could he be so poised?! She was mortified, but he had an air of smugness about him, as if being caught making out with the Inquisitor in a closet was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes, well, the court is ready to receive us,” Josephine said, her gaze still averted. “I will meet you upstairs.” With that, she slipped back out of the door.

Ellana released a breath she didn’t know she was holding and adjusted the brooch and her hair. “Right, well, I guess it’s time to meet the empress.”

“Remember my words,” Solas told her as he straightened his own jacket.

“How could I forget them?” She buttoned up his jacket and fixed the sash, aware that he was gazing at her fondly. “Save me a dance?”

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Perhaps, as soon as our present business is concluded.”

“I'll hold you to that.” She grinned and headed out of the storage room to meet up with Josephine.

Thankfully, it seemed the nobles were so caught up in their own affairs that they didn't seem to pay her much mind. A few cursive glances her way and more whispering, but she found herself less bothered by them than before.

“Be proud of who you are.”

She lifted her head to stare down her nose at them and confidently strode upstairs and into the ballroom.

[skiitter]

Ellana looked for Solas everywhere, in every shadow and alleyway of Thedas, at every ephemeral border of her dreams. She hunted him through time, through the annals of her own ancestral history, down through the last long decade of her too short life. She searched for even the echo of his presence in places too old and too broken to be named. And in every corner, through every door, across every dusty room, she found nothing. He was a ghost of a memory, something she stole and kept pressed to the edge of her ribs, just painful enough to remind her it happened.

As the years and the emptiness of her life shuffled on, Ellana's loneliness blossomed outward, consuming the gentler parts of her, until all that was left was bitter and ugly, the refuse of all her wasted hope. And so, for the sake of what life she had life, she set aside that aching desire, and refocused her grim determination on solving problems that he created. If Solas would not have her now, just as he did not keep her then, then so be it. He broke her heart, but she would not let him break the world.

She never expected to see him again, not in this life anyway, and most certainly not in the face of a stranger, in a tavern far, far away.

"This," Morrigan said, "is Rook."

Afterwards, her hand shook for want of something to cling too. The wolf statue she'd given to Thedas's newest champion was all she'd brought on her journey, and so it was to her own miserable shock she was forced to clutch.

"So, what did you think of her?" Morrigan asked upon their return to the south.

'I hate her' was the very first thought in her head, but Ellana pushed it aside for something appropriate, something fair. "She's so young."

Morrigan nodded. "Tis true, she is. But so was the Warden Amell, so was Varric's beloved Hawke," she paused. "So were you."

Ellana felt every second of her 36 years hit her all at once and she failed to keep the grimace from her face. "She's not Dalish, despite her name. I was expecting her to be more..." She could hear the word 'elfy' in Sera's voice as clear as day. "It must drive him mad."

"Oh, I'm sure many things about her do. She's quite obstinate, I'm told." Dorian stepped through the Eluvian after them, brushing imaginary fade-dust from his tailored robes. "Harding says she reminds her of you, all spitfire and stubborness."

It wounded like nothing had in a decade. It was a feeling so far removed from her repertoire of emotions, she didn't dare name it until safely alone in a room, far from prying eyes and clever sight.

Jealousy.

It's so base, so sincere in its immaturity, Ellana smiled despite the revelation. Jealousy, now, at the end of the world. How small it felt before the onslaught of things sure to come, how useless. But it was felt all the same. What a ruin the last decade had made of her pride, the irony of which she was unable to ignore. It would be better, she knew, if she did not love him. It would be easier, she knew, if she hated him. And yet.

And yet.

"El, darling, I've brought you some very expensive and fancy wine that you will pretend to enjoy and I--" Dorian trailed off at the sight of her hunched over in bed, sobbing quietly into her hands. "Oh, Ellana." He did not ask, no one ever did anymore. Instead, he sat down and drew her to him.

"It's not fair," she said into the crook of his neck. "It's not bloody fair."

"Love never is."

"It should be me, sifting through his fractured thoughts, demanding answers and receiving none. A decade of my life, Dorian. A decade. And it's just some--some girl instead." Ellana scoffed in disgust at her own fallible heart. "Her people, they live in his--his home--they--they are sat among his things. They--" She scrubbed at her face, pulling away. "I am so sick of missing him, of wanting answers to a question I asked years ago."

"I know."

"Does this make me foolish? All these years, and I'm still so heartbroken. I'm responsible for the safety of a thousand people and one man, one stupid and prideful man, has weakened me so utterly I cannot help but hate what I've become." Ellana looked at him. "I hate that I hate her. I hate that she was able to succeed where I failed."

"She's only where she's at because of Varric--"

"I spent years thinking of ways to make him stop, for just moment, to just listen to me. And now, she's got him trapped. Trapped and unable to run and I cannot even demand an audience after all this--this searching. He's just as unreachable to me now as he's ever been."

Dorian was at a loss for words, as nearly everyone was when presented with the ugly wound of her heartache. She did not begrudge him such things, nor did she push away his attempts to comfort. Instead, she cried for a while more, just for the posterity of feeling.

"Sorry," she scrubbed at her face after some time. "It's been a long day."

"It's been a long decade," he said gently. "Would you like some company or is this a 'wallow in your own loneliness' sort of evening?"

In response, she grabbed the bottle from him and took a heavy swig. It was impressively dry, like all Tevinter wine. With a grimace, she handed it back. "Company, definitely."

Several cups and not enough food later, the two of them sat before the small fireplace, having lapsed into companionable silence. He had just finished telling her of his recent run in with Vivienne and at the mention of their old friend, her thoughts were inevitably cast back in time to the Dread Wolf.

"I can see him in her," she said softly. "I see Solas in her expression, in the way she carries herself. It's...it's agonizing."

Dorian reached out and took her hand.

"She's so young and the weight of the entire world is on her shoulders. I know that feeling, I know how hard it is going to get," Ellana sighed. "I cannot begrudge her for things wholly out of her control."

"It is okay to hate her, even if it is only a little bit," he replied. "I won't tell."

"I know." She gave him a sad smile. "Maybe at the end of this, on the other side of all this carnage, I can ask her to tell him that I..." There was no word to properly encapsulate the sumtotal of everything she felt for Solas. "That I miss him, even now. And that if he ever wanted to talk, I will always be here to listen."

"He doesn't deserve your heart, Ellana, he never has."

"I know, but it's his anyway."

[lucrezianoin]

All Bellara and Davrin Dalish banter transcribed

I wrote a summary of all of Davrin's Dalish info from banter that is hard to get in game, hopefully I did not miss any. The video of Bellara and Davrin banters is here.

This is the transcription:

Bellara: Do you ever go back and see your clan, Davrin? Davrin: Not since I left the forest. Bellara: So you don't see family or friends? Davrin: No. Been a long time. Bellara: Does that bother you? Davrin: I'm the one who left. That's on me. Bellara: You must miss them. Davrin: It comes and goes. Different part of my life.

Bellara: So you're a Warden now. But you're also Dalish, right? Or at least, you were? Davrin: I'll always be Dalish. That'll never change. The sight of an aravel still brings back memories. Bellara: Good ones? Davrin: Some. Racing them through the forest as fast as the wind would take us. Bellara: I loved doing that. Davrin: And breaking my arm when our aravel sailed off a ridge. Bellara: I loved that too. Good times.

Bellara: Do you ever regret leaving your clan, Davrin? Davrin: I don't regret the life I've lived, joining the Wardens. The things I've seen and done. Bellara: There's a "but" in there. Davrin: But… sometimes I wish I could've done both. Bellara: Not much room for that. Davrin: No, you're part of the clan, giving yourself over to it, or you're not. I made my choice.

Davrin: The thing about being Dalish - I needed to see the rest of the world to understand why the Dalish part of it was special. Bellara: In what way? Davrin: I didn't appreciate my life at the time. How could I? A clan sticks to itself and you stick to the clan. Davrin: Not much room for seeing what's outside it. Bellara: Right. I get that.

Bellara: When I was little. Very little, I mean. We'd pass through towns and villages. I always wondered: What's that like? To settle down. To stop moving all the time. Davrin: Right? Have a house to call your own. Shop at the market instead of foraging for food. Davrin: Make friends with outsiders. Bellara: But you got that chance. You did it. How was it? Davrin: It was… different.

Bellara: So how different was life outside your clan? Davrin: I started to see what I took for granted. I missed the food. Bellara: They didn't have any where you went? Davrin: Dalish food. You don't appreciate halla milk 'til you don't have any. Butter too. Nothing like it in Thedas. Bellara: What about the people? Davrin: I missed the sense of a common purpose. A clan acting as one. Everywhere else, people were in it for themselves. Davrin: It's a reason I joined the Grey Wardens. Guess I needed that purpose again. The shared fight.

Bellara: I can't even read some of these books. I wonder what they say? Davrin: Do we really want to know? Bellara: Sure, the world can always use more knowledge about - Davrin: No, I mean you and I. Do the Dalish need any more rocks in our history being turned over? Bellara: Feels like we're a little late on that one.