#because all lavellan has to do is say 'i believe something differently than you' for sera to go 'I KNEW I'D NEVER BE ELFY ENOUGH FOR YOU!'

[gutshift]

the central thing you need to know about sera is that she is just...deeply insecure and lacks any kind of meaningful confidence in herself or her beliefs, and that's why she reads every minor disagreement or even someone believing differently than she does as an attack and rejection. she lacks the confidence in herself to say "i believe in the maker, and i'm secure enough in that belief that others believing differently doesn't threaten my own sense of faith."

[rhysnolastname]

Solas says I know a place and takes you to the middle of a swamp where he insults your culture, religious beliefs, and then dumps you.

[kcwriter-blog]

More thoughts on Solavellan

I started replying to a post about the psychological aspect of Solavellan because it was interesting, well thought out and I thought good points were made but it got very long, and I had new thoughts. I wanted to put them down. This is not a criticism of that post in any way, it’s good and I urge people to read it. I just see things differently.

The big problem I have with most takes on Solavellan is how they take agency away from Lavellan whenever Solas is mentioned. We have a woman who grew to be one of the most powerful leaders in Thedas but when we talk about her and her feelings, she suddenly becomes this naive child desperately in love with the man who broke her heart. I just don’t see it. I don’t see a relationship – no matter how intense – of a few months, defining her going forward. So, let’s look at it.

Solas and Lavellan do love each other deeply. We don’t hear Lavellan say I love you until the breakup scene and she never calls him vehnan until Trespasser. Obviously, that is, as with most things in the romance, because it was a rushed, late add to the game. But it is interesting.

People get on Solas’ case for not defining the relationship, but I would argue she isn’t in a hurry to define it either. Which is smart. They haven’t been together long and one, the other, or both of them could die.

It’s possible that Crestwood is the first chance they have had to talk about it. I’ve never liked the first dialogue option because Lavellan seems genuinely surprised that up until now, she doesn’t know what to call Solas. Which is silly. They have been exclusive for a few months now. They are in love. She’s been calling him something and my guess is it is vhenan (her heart, home). And Solas fully intends to have that discussion. He just gets cold feet because what he has to tell her isn’t something she is going to believe.

Moving on. The valleslin scene has had a lot posted about it and I don’t want to get into it. I think what’s important is not whether it is removed or not but the idea that Solas alone destroys her faith by telling her the truth. Did he hammer the final nail in the coffin of her faith? Yes, but a smart Lavellan has to be questioning everything already. Why? Because she met Mythal.

Even before she meets the head of her pantheon, she has been to the Temple of Mythal and learned a lot that differs from her people’s mythology. She learns that Mythal was murdered, not locked away. She learns that the Dread Wolf had no part in that murder. She sees a depiction of the Dread Wolf in an antechamber of the temple in a guard dog position which is weird. If she drank from the Well, she has a lot of ancient elven voices in her head telling her stuff. If she didn’t, she would have Morrigan telling her the same stuff.

She meets ancient elves. And those elves don’t see her or the Dalish as their own. Just as a reminder, Solas isn’t the only ancient elf to have feelings about the Dalish. Abelas is very pointed about saying Lavellan isn’t one of his people. Felassan makes fun of the Dalish. Mythal says “the People bend the knee to easily” in DA2. Heck, Felassan thinks more of the city elves than he does of the Dalish. Solas eventually comes around. It’s a grudging respect but he does allow that they have some good qualities.

Lavellan meets Mythal and Mythal isn’t exactly a nice person. She has chosen to possess the body of a human, not an elf. She never helps the elves. So, you have an elven goddess in diminished form running around helping human heroes but doing nothing for the people that pray to her. That must rock her world and her faith.

Her faith is already on the ledge by Crestwood. Solas possibly pushes it over. And he never would have told her if he hadn’t messed up and changed his mind about the other thing. It’s all impulsive. He isn’t thinking straight, just covering his ass and it hurts her. However, I think he still intended to carry on the relationship without telling her the truth. During the kiss, he finally realizes that if he loves her so much he almost told her everything, then not telling her is morally wrong and he comes up with a reason to end it.

After the breakup, Lavellan is hurt. It always hurts when someone breaks up with you. What hurts the most is knowing he still loves her. What also hurts is he won’t give her a reason. I don’t think she is questioning everything he told her at this point. He’s just the cold-hearted son of a bitch who broke her heart.

Most of us have been there. We’ve got breakup playlists, alcohol and friends to help get us through it. I usually imagine my Lavellan grabbing Bull, Dorian and Cole to help her take out her anger on a poor unsuspecting dragon. I also put off triggering the Wicked Grace game until after the breakup.

That doesn’t mean she isn’t angry or crying on Josephine’s shoulder. Of course she is, but she isn’t questioning her life choices. She could tell Solas to get lost, but she keeps him around. She is even kind to him when the Orb is discovered broken.

And everyone is kind of busy planning to find and finish Corypheus off once and for all. I see her putting a pin in it. Once they win, she will confront him and demand answers.

She doesn’t get the chance because he leaves without saying goodbye. That has to hurt. I don’t see her in a place where she could never trust anyone ever again. It’s more likely, she throws daggers at a drawing of him out in the practice yard. Even if she still loves him, she is an adult not a maiden in distress. As much as she loves Solas, her entire world does not revolve around him.

Solas made his choice. She may be concerned about him - especially after Cole’s cryptic message - but I don’t see her searching frantically for him. He knows where she is and can send her a message if he needs her.  

And she is busy. She must help clean up the mess Cory made. She has rifts to close. She has dignitaries to meet. She has paperwork. That doesn’t leave a lot of time for pining.

There is an idea that Lavellan is alone because all of her inner circle except her advisors go off and do their own thing. Except that isn’t true. They write letters – which you can find exploring the Winter Palace – in those letters some of them mention having visited or that they will visit. Lavellan is also capable of making new friends. She is not static.

Solas leaving her may still hurt. She may have (and probably did) tried to move on but so far no one matched him for any number of reasons. She is only alone in the sense that any leader is alone. What she probably misses the most about Solas is that he always treated her like a person, not an icon.

Then we get to Trespasser. If you have found all the clues for the secret dialogue option, she has figured out Solas is the Dread Wolf long before she confronts him. She has seen the murals, learned his story. She knows the Dalish got it wrong. She knows from experience that the Dalish get a lot wrong. And he’s Solas. She might not know him as well as she thought but she saw beneath his mask a little. She isn’t going to be afraid of this figure out of Dalish legend. Mostly she is going to be pissed because he didn’t tell her the truth, because he didn’t trust her.

As far as the arm thing goes. Weekes and Epler have said, he did not amputate her arm. Solas drew out the magic that was killing her. The arm disintegrated. It was already doing so by the time she meets Solas. If he hadn’t drawn out the magic, she would have disintegrated just like Solas’ friend Wisdom. I think arguments that she would have trouble trusting anyone based on this are a non-starter

Once all that is over, will Lavellan have a hard time trusting anyone? She will have a hard time trusting Solas. Who wouldn’t? Will it color her perception of anyone she might want to be romantically involved with? For a few years maybe but what are the chances she will fall in love with another god?

Trust isn’t just about people you’ve been romantically linked with. She still trusts her inner circle. They help her. A bad experience with one person, no matter how much she may love him, isn’t going to make her stop trusting people entirely.

Now apart from Solavellan, I’m pretty sure Lavellan is messed up psychologically. You can’t go through what she did and not be a little messed up. But it is that experience that may make her empathize with Solas and understand why he left her.

She knows what it is like to be a leader. Not in the sense of leading her clan but in the sense that her decisions have huge consequences. She knows how a leader’s decisions are always second guessed - like they are at the Exalted Council if you chose to exile the Wardens. She knows what it is like to have to step up and be the one to save the world. She knows that sometimes there are no good choices, and you do the best you can. She knows it messes you up and you can lose your way. Solas has lost his.

Is it ten times harder to empathize when you loved that person, and they destroyed your trust? Yes. Solas will have to win her trust back. She will view anything he says or does with suspicion, as anyone would. However, Solas rarely outright lies. She knows this. She will be asking a lot more questions and be paying more attention. She also knows that he didn’t lie about loving her.

Okay, but he is still planning to tear down the Veil so he must not love her very much. Her love moved the needle. He went from believing nothing was real to thinking everyone is real. Is it so hard to imagine that Lavellan thinks he can be reasoned with? I doubt she thinks her love alone will change him. That doesn’t mean she won’t want to try. That doesn’t mean she will want him back when it’s all over. It also doesn’t mean she is a quivering mess obsessing over their relationship.

Solavellan can be whatever you want it to be, based on your own experiences. For some it's an angsty story with a Lavellan pining for him. For others, she gets over it fast with Cullen's help. For me, she is a strong, proud woman who is able to use her own experiences to empathize with Solas and want to save him from himself. She may still love him, but that love has been tempered by her experiences with him. They will need to have a long talk if they ever meet up again.

[baphometsss]

On Solas's romantic history

Okay. I know what the consensus is. That he’s way too smooth in Inquisition to be inexperienced but... (and I’m fully prepared to get shat on for this lmao don’t kill me)

When he kisses Lavellan, that doesn’t read to me like he’s super suave and seductive. It reads more like—endeared by them trying to run away after kissing him, then being so surprised by how good the kiss felt, that he grabs Lavellan, kisses them again, pulls back with a surprised look on his face, and then goes in for more. It’s touch-starved, desperate, hungry. It’s not really all that smooth because he’s literally bending them over backwards lmao like Solas can you chill maybe

He is very smooth when flirting with Lavellan, but he's also an absolute gobshite who's spent thousands of years sassing the hell out of wannabe gods so that's not a surprise. He's witty af and enjoys some back and forth.

Solas is a very lonely man. He keeps everyone at arm’s length because he’s seen what getting close to people can do to him. His biggest fear is dying alone, and he almost gives into that because it’s what he believes he deserves for all he’s done. His life has been so stressful for so long that he's almost totally unable to consider anything else but his battles. He even says explicitly that he's tired.

That doesn’t make me think of someone who was out there in Ancient Elvhenan sleeping around all those years. No doubt he considered it, but he likely didn't pursue much with anyone physical; he enjoyed spending as much time as possible in the Fade. (The banter with Blackwall doesn't count to me personally since Solas himself thinks the whole idea is preposterous, which speaks for itself really.) Especially after being a slave/servant to Mythal seems to have voided him of his agency for some time. Then he led a rebellion and fought for thousands of years against brutal tyrants. Any one of the people he was close to could’ve been trying to kill him. Lavellan, however, has no reason to do so, so he can flirt with them freely. In all that time, it seems as though the only people he allowed to get close to the real him were Felassan and Mythal. I don’t think he slept with either, because the relationship was familial. Felassan was also loyal to Mythal, but didn’t burn his vallaslin off. (Is this a right hand/left hand of the Divine parallel again? Two brothers and their mother? Idk, I need to think about that one). For creatures with bodies made from the blood of Titans, they don’t have blood families. They would’ve had to forge their own, which is what Solas did with Mythal and Felassan.

And then there’s his ‘it has been a long time’. Most have taken this to mean that it’s been a long time since he’s been intimate with someone, but given what we know now and that he spent thousands of years in the Fade while his body was in uthenera… I wonder if he’s actually saying-- ‘it has been a long time since I lived in a body’-- ie. ‘it has been a long time since I felt physical drives, a long time since I have felt so physically real’. To me, this makes a lot more sense than the ‘he’s thousands of years old he can’t possibly be a virgin/inexperienced’ take bc like... My friends. It probably didn’t feel like thousands of years to him bc he’s essentially always existed. Time is different for spirits. It’s not like he’s gonna go: ‘well I’m nearly 4000y/o, better lose my v-card’. Time is no object when you are a timeless being. Then, given the path his life took, it wouldn’t make a lot of sense for him to be that experienced given how hard it is for him to trust.

I also personally headcanon him as heavily demisexual/demiromantic too. His true nature is so non-physical that the idea of him being very promiscuous or something just doesn’t fit his character. He needs a mental connection, to feel something, before sharing much of himself, or allowing himself the vulnerability intimacy brings, something he clearly feels with Lavellan based on how shaken up by it he is.

And it’s also canon that Solas has never been in love before meeting Lavellan. So. If he went however many millennia without falling in love, it’s also possible he went without intimacy for a long time too.

To be clear I’m not trying to say that this is the correct conclusion. My opinion has just changed a little since Veilguard (I used to think he was being smooth etc bc he's old af/v experienced, but with confirmation of former spirit Solas it’s changed my perspective somewhat)

Also:

‘Things have always been easier for me in the Fade’

‘I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams’ my man is shooketh guys SHOOKETH

[lillotte17]

The Music Room

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS‼- Do Not Read unless you have completed the Dread Wolf's Regrets quest!!!!

AN: I have not finished the game, so I don't know if this will actually be part of my canon yet, but the world is currently awful and I...needed to be making something. But as I said: I have NOT finished the game yet, so if you leave a comment (pls and thank) do NOT write anything with spoilers in it!!!

Okay, on with the show!

~

Rill finds Inquisitor Lavellan sitting at the harpsichord in the music room. All of the other rooms at the Lighthouse had seemed barren when they had first started using it as their base, and even this one had apparently been used as some sort of storage space -there was an alarming amount of cheese for some reason- but the quiet here feels different in a way that is hard to quantify. Peaceful, as opposed to desolate. The light pouring through the windows is always bright in here. Always warm. The murals on the walls were still vivid when they came. Colorful and new. The most prominent one bears the symbol of the Inquisition flanked by howling wolves.

The woman contemplating it does not look like the fearsome hero who closed a hole in the sky and stopped the southern half of the world from falling into chaos, though. She looks small. And tired. And sad.

Rill clears her throat, feeling awkward.

“So. Not trying to complain or anything, but when you asked to come here, you did say that you could help by giving us insight into Solas’ history and his way of thinking and… Well. You were pretty quiet in there while we watched those memories.”

“I know,” Aili sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I knew some of it. Bits of things he told me himself. Things I figured out…afterwards. And I knew there would be more. More I didn’t know. He’s thousands of years old, so I knew that the story of his life would be more than what he had told me, but…”

“It’s a lot.” Rill hums in agreement.

“Bit of an understatement,” Aili snorts. Her gaze drifts down, and she runs her fingers over the instrument in front of her. “…I didn’t even know he played.”

“So, tell me what you do know,” Rill says, casually plopping down onto a nearby crate, “It’s probably more helpful than you think.”

“I know… I know that he hates tea.”

“Right. Noted. Probably shouldn’t offer him any of Lucanis’ coffee either, then.” Rill grins, folding her arms across her chest.

“Probably not,” Aili agrees, returning the smile faintly. “He has a sweet tooth, though. He loves books. Loves learning. And teaching, too. He was always happy to share stories about places he had been, or spirits he had talked to. He paints beautifully. And he sketches, too. He doesn’t laugh very often, but when he does, it’s…”

She trails off, her face creased with grief and faint traces of longing.

“I’m sorry.”  She says again.

Rill shakes her head at the apology but gives her a curious look afterwards.

“You said that Solas was important to you; I’m guessing you didn’t mean that you were just really good friends?”

Aili shrugs.

“I thought that we were…something.” She glances around the room again, eyes landing on the mural of the slain dragon and the mourning wolf above it. “Now I’m not sure if even that was true.”

“Is that something he would lie about?” Rill wonders, her eyebrows ticking upwards, “Because that would be some valuable insight. He doesn’t strike me as the sort to use seduction as a manipulation tactic, but he seems comfortable twisting the truth about everything else, so…”

Aili sits for a moment in silence, frowning in consideration before finally shaking her he in the negative.

“It’s… No.” She fumbles briefly. “I know that given…given everything we’ve seen, it might be hard to believe, but… He has a kind heart. Truly. He wants to do the right thing. He believes in justice, and he wants things to be fair. He wants to help people when he sees them suffering. And he blames himself when he can’t. He just…comes to the wrong conclusions, sometimes, and he struggles to ask for help when he needs it. He… There would be no reason to -no point- in lying about his feelings for me. I was already his friend, and I took his advice seriously. He had my ear and my protection. He wouldn’t get anything out of it unless his intention was to be needlessly cruel, and…he’s not like that. He isn’t.”

“Then why were you doubting that you had something?”

“It’s…complicated.” Aili sighs. “It’s about time, I think. Or at least, part of it is. He feels things deeply. Passionately. Even if you can’t tell which words he’s telling you are true, you can always tell when something matters to him. And this place… Mythal is everywhere. In every mural. In every room. Statues. Paintings. Symbols. Everything is about her. For her. Even now. Even after taking Flemeth’s power and essentially killing her himself. His love for her, whatever shape or form it might have had, has colored every aspect of his life since the beginning of the world. And compared to that…”

She taps a single key on the harpsichord, letting out a high clear note.

“Mythal is the All-Mother. The Protecter. The bright and beguiling moon. And I…I am barely a candle flame.”

“You’re the Inquisitor. The Savior of the South. People still call you the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ You disbanded the Inquisition, and still managed to bring enough people together to hold back the darkspawn hordes while I fight the gods up here in the North. I think you might be selling yourself a bit short.” Rill says with a curl of her lips, trying to be kind.

“There will always be heroes, just as there will always be despots. I’m hardly unique in that respect.” Aili replies, striking another key. “A puny mortal striking back at false gods probably reminded him of his own past. His own struggles. Maybe that was it. Maybe there’s even something about me that made him think of Mythal. I don’t know. I don’t know what he saw in me. Or thought he saw. But look around. There are a few Inquisition symbols in this room, but beyond that… There is no trace of me in this place. Nothing he held onto. Nothing he felt was worth keeping.” 

Rill frowns. Fidgeting with her hands. Itching to pull out a blade to play with, but uncertain if the move would been seen as a threat.

“Sorry.” She offers after a few moments of silence. “I try not to talk to him very often, for obvious reasons. It’s still a bit creepy, if I’m being honest. Even if I did, though, I don’t think his romantic life would be something he’d be keen to tell me about.”

“It’s not your fault,” Aili assures her with a smile that does not reach her eyes, “He wasn’t keen to tell me either.”

“The Fade’s a funny place, though,” Rill says, gesturing at their surroundings, “I’m not always sure which bits of the things we’ve found here are from Solas, and which things we brought along ourselves. Lucanis found a book he used to read as a kid. Harding says she can smell her mom’s cooking sometimes. Neve said she can hear the sea when she wakes up in the mornings. Things like that, you know?”

The Inquisitor nods.

“Not surprising, given the nature of this place and the person who built it.” Aili says. “This was a refuge. For spirits and slaves fleeing tyranny. And for Solas himself, too. It wants to be welcoming. It wants you to feel safe.”

“It was different when we got here, though.” Rill tells her. “Bit empty. Bit sad. Lonely, almost.”

“Sounds like Solas,” Aili sighs, something close to exasperated fondness.

“This room though…” Rill sits up straighter, turning her head to glance at the sunlight painting patterns on the already painted walls. “It was always like this. It may be small and tucked away, but it’s honestly one of my favorite places in the Lighthouse. It’s always a little warmer in here. The sun’s always shining through the windows. The quiet in here feels like…comfort. Like home.”

“I feel like you’re trying to lead me somewhere, but I’m not sure where it is,” Aili chuckles.

“Well, you said it yourself, didn’t you?” Rill grins back at her, “This is the only room with Inquisition symbols in it.”

Aili blinks. Makes a face.

“There are also murals of Mythal in here. Because she’s everywhere.”

It is Rill’s turn to sigh.

“Maybe she is. Maybe he couldn’t escape from her. Maybe he never will. What she did. What she made him do. What was done to her. But the library with all his memories of her is big and dark and gloomy. And the statues of her are stiff and aloof and cold. And the little room upstairs he shoved a cot into to sleep is…just depressing, really.”

 She catches the older woman’s gaze. Holds it.

“It’s called the Lighthouse, but the beacon at the top isn’t where the light is. It’s not in some huge memorial room dedicated to Mythal. It’s here. There’s a chair with your seal on it, almost waiting for you to sit and watch him play. There’s the paintings on the walls. There’s… Look, when did this become me telling you about the Dread Wolf’s heart?”

“I have no idea,” Aili laughs in earnest this time.

“Really though, this is a good room. I like to sit and read by the windows in here sometimes. The light in here always makes be think of summer afternoons. The air has a sweetness to it, too. Something flowery. Heather, maybe. Or Lavender.”

Aili starts, her eyes going wide.

“What’s wrong?” Rill asks.

“You said it smells like lavender in here?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“It’s…the soap I use. For my hair. I always have.”

“Well, there you have it!” Rill grins in triumph. “He kept your memory here. Away from his regrets. Somewhere bright and happy. Well…as happy as Solas gets, anyway. Not too bad for a candle flame, eh?”

Aili laughs again.

“Thank you, Rook.”

[saiikavon]

You know what it is about Solas, that makes him simultaneously my favorite character and also just so annoying to me because I think I've got it

I consider myself a curious person, wanting to learn all I can and surround myself with people who are also curious and love to learn. And I think, when you are a curious person, you can really open yourself up to lots of different perspectives and experiences

BUT

When you are a person who Learns, you also run the risk, I think, of becoming attached to your own intellect and the things you have learned. You can become as obsessed with the Knowing as you are with the Learning, and when you do that...you can easily convince yourself that you know more and are wiser than pople who may not share your inherent curiosity

Which is a long-winded way of saying that sometimes very learned and experienced people can become pompous, know-it-all assholes

Solas, I believe, has convinced himself that what he knows and what he has learned is worlds above what other people know, and the frustrating thing is, he sort of does. He has truths that people have long forgotten, histories that he witnessed first hand that have become twisted over time. Furthermore, he has presumably had time to reflect on all he's done and all that came of his actions, so he can operate based on information only HE has

I know people like this. I have fallen victim to it myself at times. Thinking that the act of reflection itself means you will ultimately come to the best overall conclusion, since you are, indeed, giving something its due consideration before acting, where others would jump in without thinking at all or gaining all the information. The problem is that just thinking things over does not automatically make one correct. You may have taken every new point of information without checking your biases, or with even an unconcious interest in confirming them. You may let a specific emotion guide your research. You may forget to actually listen to what's been told to you or to consider the feelings of those around you - the facts may not care about feelings, but feelings can and do shape certain facts.

Solas' folly is that he has lived through so much and ultimately applies all of that experience to things he learns about the new world without actually considering the people who live in it. Oh, he wants to save them, this lost flock, as he did the slaves bound by the Evanuris. He thinks that because they do not know better, he must decide for them what to do.

What I adore about him is this compassion, this curiosity, the way he paints his picture of history. The way he feels for his people and the way he learns about the world.

What I cannot stand is how he holds this learning over everyone's head, even people he claims to respect. It drives me absolutely bananas when I see someone I genuinely love spend so much time talking themselves into a corner that they now think anyone who presents a new perspective must automatically be wrong. I hate when I catch myself doing it. I understand the burning need to defend the position I've spent so long cultivating because someone has tried to tell me I'm wrong.

You can't argue with a person like this in one debate. They've already argued with themselves and, intentionally or not, developed a counterpoint for each and every point you can make against their stance. Even if they convince themselves they don't want to go down this path...well, they've thought about it for so long, they now feel they have no other choice.

I adore Solas. I hope, hope, HOPE, that in Veilguard, we can give him an argument he will finally consider. I hope we can tell him he's being a stubborn fucking dipshit and he will listen. I hope we can provide him a new way to learn and that he will try to move on. I hope he will leave his past to rest and try to make reparations to those that live in the present.

I hope my Inquistor Wren Lavellan can go to him, smile as she kisses him and calls him a fool, then take his hand and find home.

[little-elf-wanders]

I just realised how bad Effie and Solas are going to interact.

Like, they will straight up not agree, and this time it isn't even because I just don't like him - because there's potential for him to further explain what he meant with his plans and for me to change my mind if it makes sense, however, so far all we have to go off of doesn't paint him in a good light. No matter what romanticists say to defend him. We don't have the facts. Specifically for a Rook. It paints him very much as destroying the world. Multiple characters have reacted like that's what he's doing, the biggest example being Varric himself when he outright says it in the comic. So those of us who aren't reading into every little comment he made takes it for what he said it as. Which hasn't been much. And it's pretty alarming of a concept without absolute assurances. I don't take his 'lol trust me' message well, because I don't trust him.

But what I know for a fact is Effie's Mournwatch beliefs directly conflict with Solas's. And it'll be interesting to see if that has any weight in game.

They both care about spirits, that's about the biggest connection they have. The issue is they both have differing views on how that care takes place.

Solas, of course, created the Veil, but he hasn't been around to properly see what it does with spirits in this world. We see a reaction to mages binding a demon like it's the first time he's seen it. He's reactive and horrified - one Mortalitisi he even killed somewhere else, though I believe it was because of an idol they were using and for making a wisp stir their tea. Fair play to him with idol tampering and knowing abuse of a spirit.

He's seeing spirits be twisted against their nature and it is his fault. The mages doing the binding are people who don't have the same understanding of how spirits operate, though, so you can't under any circumstance blame them for thinking they're doing what was taught to them is alright. You cannot kill those mages in blind anger for not knowing what you know.

When confronting the mages, he tells them he's not helping them. Tell me why the fuck it's an ego brush he prefers about being smarter and not 'He's right, there's something about this you don't know!'

The rifts are opening everywhere spitting out demons, and they are terrified, they are hunted by rogue Templars in a mage/templar war that left a lot of angry outliers, and his only thought to them not knowing other than doing what Circles taught them is they deserve death? If they knew better sure, but very clearly they did not.

I'm showing this because Solas is extremely knowledgeable and could have chosen to teach that spirits are different from demons and that pulling one from the fade and binding it just warps it against its nature, then shown them how it went back to being a spirit. I'm aware this was his friend, so some aggression and reactiveness is understandable. But tell me why there wasn't an option to talk him down? Or to have the option to give him a way to see that some people don't understand? It was simply 'let him murder these people for which he'll love you, or disagree and he'll hate it.' And I'm not sympathetic to that at all, I would have respected him more if we got given literally any other reaction besides murder them for his approval. The mages were scared and upset, that isn't a reason to murder them. Were they wrong? YES. Obviously. But it could have been something so much fucking more. Lavellan knows this. Or she should.

Now back to Effie. We know this about Solas, she does not. The thing is, the Mournwatch seems to respect the dead. And spirits. Maybe not all of them hold those views like a certain Mortalitisi but I'm going into this believing Effie certainly does, and I suspect Emmrich does too given Manfred. She believes when someone dies a spirit is shunted from the fade. If this is true? Effie will be furious at Solas for creating the Veil without a shred of thought for it just to use the spirits as an excuse to break it. He cares more about the spirits than people. His own people are just the exception but you can't threaten what he has and only accept some. I'm curious how this might play out, if it does at all.

His biggest aim was to lock away the gods, but it completely disrupted how Thedas now operates, including how it grew - and how some countries have zero information to work with because they fear the unknown. While some respect it, like Nevarra and Rivain. Even Avvar hold a huge respect for spirits. Effie see's it as part of the ecosystem, now - which might be a wrong thought to have but those spirits are now part of that and have been for long enough there will be a significant issue or problem if it's suddenly removed. And that's entirely Solas's doing. Maybe I'm wrong to believe there'll be an issue, a magic fix it seems anticlimactic when they've built up his whole scheme to be apocalyptic.

So, if he gets mad at how the Mournwatch find the spirits suitable bodies and handle the supernatural issues from said spirits going berserk, she's fully going to tell him he's the reason why they need to find them bodies in the first place and he doesn't get to judge or break it because it's hard to stomach. They do this so they DON'T turn into demons.

And that maybe there's some other way to fix it that doesn't involve shady ass schemes and with-holding vital information that could change how systems do teach these subjects. But I don't know. She loves spirits more than people, she appears apathetic to people but she doesn't want them to bloody explode or be ripped apart.

[crossdressingdeath]

It feels mean commenting on it from anon but I feel like the person you're talking to was speaking too much from their inquisitor/opinion/view. There's some stuff shared across inquisitors because that's how it works but they are ignoring the role play aspect and even the actual choice of freedom game does give about how one inquisitor might feel about something etc.

This is honestly the main reason I tend to get a bad vibe from people who use gendered pronouns for a character without a set gender (with the obvious exception of gender-locked stuff; for example it wouldn't be a bad sign for someone to refer to Lavellan as "she" while talking about Solavellan). In my experience it's often a sign that they struggle to look at the character as the abstract of A Player Character rather than as just their character. RPGs are about choices, giving the player the option to have their character respond to situations in a variety of ways. That's what gives these games replayability! And you don't have to engage with it in-game (I mean, I've only finished DAI as Alaris, he's my baby) or even in every post you make (I'll sometimes he/him Quiz when I'm talking about something silly, because I'm playing Alaris and looking at things from his perspective so if I'm not trying to say anything intelligent or meaningful I may as well approach things as they stand in his worldstate specifically), but if you want to discuss the story as a whole you cannot be looking at the player character as your character or at the choices you made in-game as the canon choices. You have to look at the situation as a whole, including all the options a player can take even if they aren't ones you would take.

And it's especially important to keep that in mind with the player character, because while other characters have the potential for all their possible routes in them the whole time (Leliana has both the harshness of hardened Leliana and the compassion and mercy of softened Leliana, as an example; you just push her to prioritize one or the other) the player character only has the traits you give them. Lavellan might see the elves of Orlais as part of their people or they might not; neither of those options is "correct" or "canon", they're entirely based on what character a player wants to play. Lavellan having an elf-specific dialogue option to encourage her to take full advantage of her new position and their support would be good because it would be an option to play into Lavellan believing that they are of the same people, something they can do at other points in the game. They can do it in conversation with Solas and Sera; why not Briala too? But if you think your character's choices are the only valid ones and your character wouldn't make that connection between them and Briala then you're going to insist that that option shouldn't exist because "Lavellan wouldn't think of it that way"... even though they can at other points in the game if the player so chooses. Which makes for really shitty analysis, because if you're coming at a discussion about a game where you can make a lot of different choices from the viewpoint that the choices you like are the ones that matter most you're not going to be able to say anything interesting about anything that doesn't fit your narrow view of what the best version of the story is.

[ell-vellan]

12, 28, and 38 from the oc relationship asks!

Thank you for asking! <3

I'm just gonna do every relationship I currently have rotating in my mind, lol.

OC Relationship Asks

12. What is something their S/O does to make them flustered?

Ellawyn/Bull: Anytime Bull flirts or touches her in public. She's not used to it - since their relationship started as a secret - and doesn't know how to react in a way that's still becoming of the Inquisitor. But she likes it anyway, and Bull likes unraveling her sense of decorum. Bull would've figured the ability to get flustered had been surgically removed from him at birth - but when El uses her abilities as a mage to ease his pain, or her command role to take care of him in ways that isn't necessary to the war effort, he doesn't know what to do or say.

Anera Lavellan/Solas: I think anytime Anera touches him, Solas finds it unexpected. For her, it's so easy, but it's been so long that he's let anyone this close. It takes him by surprise each time, and he can't hide how much it makes him melt.

Alistair/Auriel Cousland: It's too easy to fluster Alistair; Auri finds it endlessly amusing. She's far more confident in her seduction skills than Alistair. He hates it when Auriel and anyone else - but especially Zevran or Morrigan - talk about their romantic experiences so easily. But, in private, Alistair has a way of saying the most gentle, genuinely beautiful words of love to her, and it stuns her into speechlessness at last.

Zevran/Lathlen Mahariel: Mahariel is un-flusterable. He's a rock. He never smiles, never blushes. Zevran tries to rile him up by being outrageous in public, but...nothing. Mahariel doesn't care about other people and can't be embarrassed. But he enjoys making Zevran flustered with subtle touches. Because Zevran acts so suave, but he's unused to real, intense affection that zeroes in on him and claims him entirely. So Zev might flirt poetically, grandly, for all to hear - then Mahariel will grab him by the belt or his chest plate, pull him close, and murmur something possessive with low, quiet confidence in his ear. Zevran makes a half-hearted attempt to laugh it off but he's shocked, actually how someone found a way to make him blush, after all this time. He's had many people in his life who's claimed to own him, but with Mahariel, he finds he isn't opposed to the idea.

28. Do they trust one another? Are they comfortable discussing their fears with one another?

Ellawyn trusts Bull with her life; she's learning, with some difficulty, to trust that he will stay. They're both very open about their fears, though Bull has a harder time admitting any vulnerability at all.

Anera trusts Solas...about 99 percent. She can tell there's something he isn't saying, but the things he does tell her, she believes. I don't think Solas talks about his own fears at all; if he does, it's very vague and in general terms. Anera freely admits the few things she's afraid of.

Auri and Alistair are completely open books with one another, and trust each other above all others.

Zevran and Mahariel are as well, but it takes them both much, much longer to get there. Neither of them trusts easily, but by the end, they trust only each other.

38. What would be their ideal evening in?

El and Bull - Bull really wants to see El drunk. At least once. Just because he doesn't think she ever has let loose enough. So, a party with the Chargers, where Bull can see El safely back to her room, take care of her, and she no longer feels the need to be so very guarded. But El would probably prefer not to ever drink Qunari booze again.

Anera and Solas would be in front of the fire together, each reading different books, and occasionally telling the other something they've read, either to debate the merits of it or just to share fun facts.

Auriel and Alistair passed out asleep, cuddled together with their dog after a feast and no need to get up early the next morning.

Zevran and Mahariel - probably a target competition (Zev's daggers vs Mahariel's arrows) with some kind of sexy consequence for whichever one loses. Then the nicest room at whatever inn they're crashing at. It likely involves blindfolds and ropes and maybe hot candle wax.

[moontheoretist]

I recently gathered some gasps when I said, “I played as female Lavellan and didn’t romance Solas”. (I romanced Cullen and I really liked my romance, but his issues with magic and singling out the mage love interest is another bag of worms to unpack there, which I won’t do here). I people I said it too were so surprised why, to the point that they assumed I didn’t like him (stating that his new face for DA4 looks hideous to me probably didn’t help with that, anyway) despite the fact that I stated multiple times that I like him very much, simply because I waited literal ages for a companion with whom I could nerd about the Fade all the time. But here is a thing:

I prefer him as my friend.

Is it really that bad that I prefer him as my friend? I know his romance. I watched it, I liked it. It’s really not an issue of me disliking him or his romance. Is my preference with loving him more as my friend and striving for friendship rather than romance really that weird?

Not to mention that this way I will keep my vallaslin without having to engage with endless spirals of disapprovals and just enjoy him?

I think I already said it before in the past, but if there is anything that I dislike in Solas’ general attitude except him seeing the people living in the world without the Fade in it as a world full of lobotomized half-humans he can’t stand to talk to (except Lavellan whom he singles out in very Cullen way, but for a different reason), it’s his attitude in regard to the Vallaslins. He says they are slave markings, and that is true that they once were. But it is also true that they are not anymore. The culture changed. The history of evolution of vallaslins is long, but he just rejects it outright, because he still remembers the times when they were marks of a slave. I am not POC, so I can’t talk about the cultural significance of vallaslins in racial sense, but I am queer, so I can say that vallaslins being now a symbol of prideful elven heritage has the same vibe as queer community reclaiming “gay” and “queer” slurs and making them ours. He singles out Lavellan when romanced, because he is just fed up that Dalish elves don’t listen to him and keep clinging to their own traditions even when told it is false. So he appreciates it when you choose for your Lavellan to yield to his idea of what her culture is, and that is kinda meh to me. It’s a lot as if I was now suddenly asked to reject some part of my queer identity simply because it used to be associated with negative stuff about us.

I can relate to his frustration on autistic level, because it also irritates me when people use or refer to something in a way that is incorrect, so I feel it must feel to Solas kind of similarly when Dalish are all full of pride about the thing that he knows is a mark of a slave. I also can relate to his frustration on the cultural level, because I don’t like when people hold onto traditions to the point of not wanting any change to ever happen, stifling this way their own growth. The issue here is that vallaslins are not stifling the growth, they are a sign of the growth.

And I am glad that his romance actually allows for him to see that he was wrong about the Dalish too. That you can actually tell him off for speaking bad about the Dalish and that you can keep your vallaslin, and he accepts it and says that you are perfect the way you are. This is why we play those games. Not only to interact with NPC, save the world and romance companions, but also to show other people that what they believe is not always right. That their idea of what they think is right is not always good or superior to the ideas of others.

(This also makes me consider romance for non-main Lavellan).

Now I wish I could do the same with Vievienne and show her that her bullshit about the necessity of the Circles is just that, a bullshit. I’d love to show her as a friend Trevelyan that she was wrong about the Circle system and encourage her to strive for a better one. I’d love to put her on the Sun Throne if I was sure that her first act won’t be to destroy the College of Magi. Hell, I think her destroying it is against everything she preaches about “mages needing the place to learn”. Why destroy the College, then? You can have two school systems! Two school systems are better than one! She destroys it simply because she still believes that Chantry system is the only one that knows what kinds of magic can be taught and which should not. It is literally reinforcing status quo, just with a mage in charge. It’s like reinforcing patriarchy but with women in charge, as it sometimes happens in real world (it definitely does in Chantry setting as well). Her destroying the College shows that she still believes that every other way than a Chantry way to teach about magic is inherently vile, evil and dangerous. Mage on the Sun Throne changes nothing.

[owibitmylip]

Certainty

Meredith centered fic posted also on AO3!

Relationships: Meredith Stannard/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Meredith Stannard, Cullen Rutherford, Varric Tethras, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Rylen (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan, Female Inquisitor, Minaeve (Dragon Age)

Additional Tags: Lyrium Addiction, Red Lyrium, Slight body horror, Jacked Meredith, POV Meredith, Meredith’s super fucked up perception of things, Adrastianism, Certainty the Sword

Chapter 3: The Chosen One

After her first few days, Meredith settled in to relative peace. She had her little tent which she shared with perhaps her only friend left in the world, she had a new apprentice with incredible potential, and she had a purpose. Save the world, save the Templars, train the girl. As far as purposes went, Meredith was quite pleased with hers. It was no small mission, but she thought at least, it would last a good long while. There was time before she would again have to wonder why the Maker had sent her somewhere - that is, assuming she survived once the Maker’s plan for her here was realised. The possibility that she would not survive was present in the back of her mind, but it did not unsettle her. Clearly the Maker had further use for her, and she trusted that she would go when it was her time.

Her peace did not last terribly long, though, because somebody - Varric, Meredith guessed - had informed the supposed Herald of Andrastae of her presence. The Herald had come to see her, and Meredith finally got a look at the girl. They stood outside of her small tent, and as the Herald approached, the wind whistled to an abrupt halt.

She was younger than Meredith had expected, but she supposed that fate did not always wait for a person to finish growing before pushing them into their destiny. The girl was another elf, shorter and slighter than Aeris, she looked like a stiff breeze might blow her away. Her face was adorned with a different style of Vallaslin, and a scar over her nose that reminded Meredith of Hawke. The armor she wore looked heavy enough to crush her, all fur and leather and a few small metal plates covering her joints, it was something that Meredith would never have accepted for herself, and on the girl’s back there hung a mage’s staff.

“I have a friend who thinks you might not be who you say you are, Messere,” the Herald said. Another Marcher, is she?

“And who does your friend think I am?” Meredith clasped her hands behind her back. She would have preferred to be holding her sword, but this seemed like it was already a precarious enough situation without adding her own weapon into the mix. Besides, the Herald was quite small compared to herself, and Meredith was confident that she would be the victor in a clash between them - with, or without her weapon.

“A dead woman. But, perhaps, not quite so dead as we all had thought.” So much for not being recognised as the Dread Knight Commander. She knew it would happen, she had just hoped she might have a little bit more time before the word got out. “Perhaps you were only mostly dead, instead of all dead.”

“Did your friend give you a name for me?”

“Meredith Stannard,” the Herald said, pausing briefly to look Meredith over. “Of Kirkwall.”

“At your service,” Meredith said, though she did not bow. She expected this young woman had enough people tripping over themselves to fall at her feet already.

“At my service, or at the Herald of Andrastae’s service, I wonder?” The girl hummed. “I’ve heard about you. Not everything, I’m sure, but enough. You were a very formidable warrior, everybody who has spoken to me about you has done so trembling in their boots.”

“Is that a compliment, Herald?” Meredith raised an eyebrow.

“Ellana, if you please. I am not terribly fond of being a Herald for a deity that I do not believe in.” She never answered Meredith’s question. The statement hung in the air between them, almost oppressive. Meredith had not considered that the Herald may also share some of her ire over a seemingly random elven mage being chosen by Andrastae. But Meredith was not one to question the Maker’s will, and if this girl was chosen - whether she wanted to believe it or not - Meredith would follow her.

“You did not ask for this.”

“I did not.” And so this young woman was inducted into a tradition as old as time: being fucked over by fate.

“Fate can be cruel, at times. One moment you are naught but a young girl, the next, greatness is thrust upon you.”

“I have noticed that.” Ellana paused briefly and glanced over her shoulder at where Haven stood, turning her attention away from Meredith. “Everyone is so convinced that I am sent by your Maker. He seems to ask quite a bit from people.”

“He asks only what he knows we are capable of giving. I concede that sometimes it can feel like too much, but He would not give us a task that we were not able to complete.” It was something that Meredith had truly believed for almost her entire life. Directly after her sister’s downfall, Meredith had been distraught. She had cried and begged the Maker, she had demanded why, and it had been Wentworth who had told her that she would be alright, it had been him who had assured her that the Maker had a plan for her.

Turning back to Meredith with an appraising look, Ellana asked “And what do you think he is asking of you?”

“I am here to help close the Breach. I am here to help the Templars.” She purposely left off her new found responsibility to Aeris, though it lingered in the back of her mind.

“Help the Templars?” Ellana matched Meredith’s stance and clasped her hands behind her back. “Do you have any idea what might be the matter with them? That has been something of an elusive problem ever since the Lord Seeker smacked a Chantry Sister and told us to piss off in Val Royeux.”

Meredith’s expression darkened. “Perhaps the Lord Seeker must be reminded of his place,” she growled. “Was it he who orchestrated the Templar’s retreat to Therinfal?”

“As far as we can tell,” Ellana nodded. “Though it seems your Maker only knows why. You would not happen to have any insight, Knight Comander, would you?”

After regrading the Herald briefly, her eyes drifted closed and for a moment Meredith just listened. She could hear it, wherever they were, she could hear it call to her, sing to her. It was quiet as of now, for Therinfal was some distance away, but Meredith could hear it crackling and calling and humming. It was so distinct that she felt she could see flashes of red behind her eyelids, and she wondered if this was something like the beginnings of a Warden’s Calling. The sound was ever present in some small recess of her mind, so that it had even begun to seep into her dreams. It was soft enough that she could tune it out with relative ease, but it was always there, enticing her to come seek it out.

“Therinfal,” Meredith began, eyes still closed. “It is that way.” She pointed off in the direction from which she could hear the faint song. “I have never been, though I have heard of the place. Evidently it is quite formidable.” Upon opening her eyes she perceived the skeptical look on Ellana’s face. “In Kirkwall, I used an idol made of red lyrium in my sword - Certainty was it’s name.”

“And then you got turned into a statue, yes, Varric has told me of it.”

“I believe I can still hear it - not Certainty, but the presence of red lyrium.” Although, Meredith could not rule out the sound being Certainty calling to her, and the thought sent a bizarre shiver down her spine. If it was indeed Certainty’s song, who was now wielding it? “It is a small, soft little thing in the back of my mind. Always there, never ceasing. I wonder-” She corrected herself. “I worry, that the Templars may have begun to use red lyrium. I would say to combat the mage rebellion, but they are doing fuck-all about it at the moment, so I cannot guess at their reasoning.”

Ellana regarded her silently for a few moments and took a couple steps closer. “And you believe your best shot at helping them is by joining up with us?” Meredith had the distinct sense that she was being evaluated. It was not unreasonable, she thought, to believe that the Herald had come to speak with her in order to divine whether or not she was sane and useful enough to keep around. But Meredith had already resolved that if she was told to leave, or if she was forced to run, she was going to go to Therinfal and talk some sense into the Templars - alone if she really had to. The idea may have been daunting were she a lesser woman, but there was very little that frightened Meredith. She believed beyond any shadow of a doubt that the Maker would protect her until it was her time.

“Quite so. But I believe I am supposed to help close the Breach, as well. There is more than just the Order at jeopardy here, but I cannot turn my back on them, even if they have turned their backs on the world.”

“And what if the Templars have already started using red lyrium? I suppose you would know better than anyone else here, is there a way to help them? And what effects would it have?”

“I am sorry to say that I do not know. If what happened to me is any indication, they will go mad, and then they will die. But with something so volatile as red lyrium, I expect there are many unnatural things it can do to a person.” Meredith shuddered, remembering the feeling of the crystal encasing her. At first, when she had still had her awareness, she had felt like she was being suffocated, like the Maker himself had a vise grip on her throat. And beyond that, she had felt like she was being crushed from all sides, her arms held fast and her legs unable to stand back up. The harsh crystal had felt like it was shredding her skin as it crept up her body, even though it had not left a single mark on her.

“You did not die.” No, but in those first moments where she realised what was happening, she had prayed for death. The Maker had met her halfway and let her be unaware for the bulk of her imprisonment, and for that she would be eternally grateful. Meredith could not even begin to imagine what it would have been like, awake in there, the feeling of suffocation, of being crushed never lessening, it would have been unbearable, and she would not have been able to do a single thing about it.

“I think I might have, but the Maker decided it was not my time, and allowed me this second chance, that I might try to atone for my past wrongs. Or at the least, I came extremely close, and He saw fit to spare me still.”

“So we have both escaped near certain death to be tossed into this mess.” Ellana heaved a sigh. “Some destiny this is. Well, if you are going to be staying here, then I am going to assign somebody to keep an eye on you. Just for the time being, at least until I can be sure that you are not a danger to us. You are quite unnerving to some, and I think they would feel much more at ease if somebody were watching to make sure you don’t start huffing red lyrium and try to kill all our mages.”

Meredith chuckled dryly. She was not thrilled, but she supposed it was better than being thrown out. “As you say. Who is my handler to be, then?”

“I was going to make Cullen look after you, but given the circumstances I feel that would be cruel to him. So you will get Knight Captain Rylen.”

“Of Starkhaven?”

“Do you know him?”

“Not well. I believe I only met him once, quite some time ago.” Despite her displeasure at being given a babysitter, Meredith was at least glad that it was another Templar. If she recalled correctly, this was the man she had met who had tattoos on his face. Though she may have been misremembering - red lyrium had not done her memory any favours.

“He seems decent enough, and Cullen was willing to vouch for him, so he’ll do. Come. I shall introduce you, he will be your shadow for the foreseeable future.”

“As you say,” Meredith nodded once.

Ellana turned away without another word, and Meredith followed.

*

She stared into the mirror, a different woman stared back. Meredith reached up, dragging a fingernail down her cheek, pulling her lower eyelid down. The other woman mimicked her movements, but Meredith knew that woman was not her - her eyes were the wrong colour. The sclera a sickly black and the irises a bright, vibrant red. They glowed, they crackled viciously. Visible underneath the woman’s skin were her veins, a similar red, also glowing, running around her face away from her eyes.

Meredith pulled her lip away from her teeth with a shaking hand. The other woman’s gums were bloody, and Maker, she could hear it. Small lines of blood staining white teeth called out to her, and Meredith ran her tongue across her teeth in an effort to silence it. The other woman did the same, but the song did not cease. Her nails came up to rake at her face, an entreaty for the other woman to give her some peace, some respite. She dug at a speck on her cheek, if it was blood responsible for the constant hum-humming, then perhaps getting rid of some of it would lessen the noise - or would it only make it louder? Would it become unbearable once it was above the skin? Meredith had to take that risk, she could not possibly go on like this, she would lose her mind. She had to keep her wits about her, for the sake of Kirkwall, for the sake of the Order, for the sake of- of- Blood ran down her cheek, dripping off her jaw onto the table. She shuddered at the sight of it, and the inclination overtook her to taste it. The song was louder now, sweeter, much more enticing. She touched the thin trail near her jaw then licked the deep, vibrant, holy liquid off the side of her hand and savoured the taste.

It made her mouth tingle, but it also made the song exponentially louder. Her head throbbed, her eyes burned, and she had the feeling on her skin like she was about to be struck by lightning.

*

Meredith could have sworn that she felt eyes on her as she followed Ellana through Haven and to the tavern, but whenever she glanced in any given direction nobody was looking at her. She wondered if word had spread of who she was, or even if anybody knew. Surely the events in Kirkwall had not earned her continent-wide infamy. Perhaps people were looking at her because she was a newcomer, or perhaps they were looking at her because she was following their Herald around.

The tavern was nothing special, it was about the same as almost every other tavern Meredith had ever been in. There was an overpowering smell of bad ale and so much chatter that she could barely hear herself think - which in fairness did not take much, nowadays. It seemed the red lyrium had left her mind a little less sharp, a little less formidable than it once was. She could remember the first time she had ventured into the training yard after receiving Certainty, and how the noise of her Templars sparring with each other had been enough to give her such a splitting headache that she had to close her curtains and lay down, and she felt so thoroughly addled that she could barely focus on her paperwork later in the evening. Not only because of the headache, but because she felt like she could hear whispering, something entreating her to take up the sword, even though she felt like she might be sick if she were to move.

It had distrubed her at first, the sword’s soft voice, but she had grown accustomed to it.

Ellana lead her over to a table in a mostly unoccupied corner where a man sat alone - the Knight Captain with the tattoos, Meredith remembered him better once she caught sight of his face. He was quite distinct between the ink, the scars, and the accent.

“Herald, Knight Commander,” Rylen greeted them with a brief incline of his head.

“Knight Captain Rylen,” Ellana returned the gesture. “Your new charge. Thank you for agreeing to look after her. I trust she will be on her best behaviour.” The young Herald turned and gave Meredith a look like a stern parent disciplining a naughty child. Meredith was torn between amusement and irritation.

“Of course. You have nothing to fear from me,” she said, opting to keep her expression neutral.

“I sincerely hope that is true, Knight Commander,” Ellana said. “Play nice with each other. I have mages to placate and Templars to keep from imploding, apparently. Rylen, alert Cullen or myself immediately if you suspect anything is amiss, please.”

“Of course, Herald. Don’t you worry, I’ll watch her like a hawk.” Rylen sported a lopsided grin, Meredith suppressed a groan at the word-play.

“I’m sure you will. Farewell, Messeres, behave yourselves.” Ellana gave Meredith a light pat on the shoulder, and Rylen a half-hearted wave before she left them.

“And then there were two. Knight Commander,” Rylen spoke up first, looking up at Meredith where she stood on the opposite side of the table. “Have a seat, won’t you? Care for a drink?

“Do they serve anything decent?” She pulled out the chair across from him and lowered herself into it. Her hip protested a little bit, but as she usually did when her joints bothered her, Meredith ignored it. It seemed the cold was frequently responsible for causing aches and pains, but in the frequently sweltering Kirkwall that was rarely an issue for her. Though even in it’s comparatively mild winters, she would occasionally have to take draughts made to quell the pain.

“No,” Rylen shook his head. “But I think it could be worse. So everything I know about you was told to me by people who’re scared shitless of you. If I’m to be keeping an eye on you, I think I ought to know you a bit better than whatever I can glean from rumours.”

“Well, you can add ‘prefers good alcohol’ to the things you know about me,” Meredith said, her nose wrinkling slightly against the smell of the place. “Aside from that, I was born in Kirkwall, I joined the Order when I was quite young after events I do not care to discuss. For the bulk of my life I served in Kirkwall as well, though I was briefly stationed in Ferelden. A Knight Captian was killed in the line of duty, and I was to replace him until the Knight Commander could settle on a suitable, permanent replacement. I returned to Kirkwall under circumstances I also do not care to discuss, and was given the position of Knight Captain there until the former Knight Commander was killed, at which point the Grand Cleric selected me for a promotion.”

“I heard about the old Knight Commander being hanged, I believe. Something about the treacherous Viscount?” Rylen took a swig from his tankard.

“Yes, that was Threnhold. He was dispatched shortly after Knight Commander Guylian’s death. Dumar was uninspiring, but he was a considerable improvement from Threnhold. He never tried to move against us, he never interfered with my business. I chose him specifically so the Viscount would not be someone who believed themselves important enough that they could order the Templars around.”

“Ah, your divine authority was more important than his, eh?” Rylen’s lopsided grin returned.

“Yes, because my divine authority was actually divine. I was selected by the Grand Cleric herself because she knew I would be a good Knight Commander, Dumar was chosen because I knew he would not get in my way. Not because it was his destiny, or because he would be a good Viscount.”

“Were you, though? A good Knight Commander, I mean,” Rylen asked, glancing at Meredith over the rim of the tankard. “What with the whole red lyrium, going batty, trying to annul all the mages and so on.” He was poking, seeing if she would snap so easily.

She was silent for a few moments as Rylen sipped his ale. It was yet to occur to her that she actually might not have been the Knight Commander she thought she was. Even after all she had done, she still thought herself a good Templar. And if she really was good by Chantry standards, then what did that say about the Chantry and the Order?

“I did only what I felt I had to do to protect the people of Kirkwall,” Meredith said. “My intentions were pure, regardless of whether I made the right choice or not.”

“Looking back now, do you think you made the right choices?” So this was an interrogation then. She wasn’t exactly surprised, it was sensible that the Herald would want to have the clearest picture possible of her mental state, and that that picture came from somebody that the Inquisition could trust. Byron could vouch for her until his throat went raw, but that would mean almost nothing if the Herald and her advisors didn’t trust him.

“No,” she softly shook her head. “I did not. The Right of Annulment was not necessary. And I should never have used red lyrium.”

“I’m very glad that you can acknowledge that. Good step towards proving you’re sane enough to keep around, that you know what you did was wrong.” Rylen downed the rest of the dark liquid in the tankard and set it on the table. “Come on, I’m guessing you haven’t seen much of the place yet? I’ll show you around so you don’t get yourself lost.”

Both of them rose from their seats. Meredith was only a hair shorter than Rylen, and her shoulders were almost as broad. She followed him out of the tavern and around the small plot of land that was Haven, listening as he chattered on about whatever struck his fancy. She thought he might get annoying after a while, but all things considered, she could be in a much worse position. So she resolved to play nice with Rylen, and with the Herald. She was grateful that she had thus far been allowed to stay, and she hoped that Ellana wouldn’t change her mind. As Rylen showed her around the little hamlet, Meredith thought she might be starting to like the place.

*

“We all have our purposes,” Valeria had told her. “We are all here for a reason. It is up to the Maker to reveal that reason to us, when and if He sees fit. Your purpose will be revealed to you in time, young one, of that I am sure.”

Not long after Valeria said that to her did the mage die, and shortly after that Meredith recieved word that she must return to Kirkwall as soon as possible. Wentworth was unwell, and Guylian wanted to name her Knight Captain. Meredith had jumped at the chance, though she had left some small part of herself in Ferelden. A piece with Valeria, and a piece in the charred remains of the village where her mage had perished.

*

Later that night, once Rylen had departed to get some sleep, Meredith met Aeris by the stables. The girl wore a heavier tunic with a belt tightly sinched at her waist, and held her own two daggers, and a practise swords that she’d borrowed. They walked in silence out past the field where Cullen spent his days shouting at recruits in a way that made Meredith proud, up the small incline, past the abandoned cabin. Aeris had tasked herself with finding a secluded spot to train, given Meredith did not have the free reign of the area that she had wanted. She had settled on a small clearing near enough to the old cabin that she was confident they would not get lost in the night, but far enough that the sound of sparring would likely not reach anybody back in Haven.

“Will this work?” Aeris asked, offering the practise sword to Meredith. It was a one-handed blade, but Meredith could make do. The hilt was comfortable enough, and the blade was made of chipped, dulled metal. It was far too light for her tastes, but for the time being it would be fine.

“It will,” Meredith said. “Alright, girl, show me what you know.” She dropped into a fighting stance, gripping her sword with one hand, the other positioned with her palm against the pommel. This might be a much lighter and smaller sword than she was used to, but Meredith expected she could wield it similarly, if a lot faster.

And she would need the speed, too, she soon discovered, because Aeris was fast. She danced around Meredith, jumping in and out of her range with ease. The girl was a whirlwind, and Meredith was somewhat out of practise - being encased in corrupted lyrium for Maker knows how long will do that to you - though she was still able to keep up well enough and repel the bulk of Aeris’s attacks. The daggers occasionally swiped at her, leaving light scratches on Meredith’s gambeson. Nothing that would have been fatal, she noted. At last Meredith was satisfied with what she had seen, and took the next opening that Aeris gave her. Meredith twisted out of the way of a dagger and turned back, bringing the sword around and striking Aeris’ side with the flat of the blade.

“And you’re dead,” she said, taking a step back and withdrawing the sword. Aeris stumbled a little, breathing hard. She looked up at Meredith. “You have talent, and you have incredible potential. But you are too focused on your speed and not your accuracy. You need to find a balance.” Meredith planted the tip of the sword down into the snow and rested her hands on the pommel. “You are leaving yourself open too much, too. Fighting with daggers does mean you will have to take some risks that, say, I would not with a sword, but you need to guard yourself better. You will come up against people that are much faster than I am, who will take advantage of carelessness.”

Aeris frowned, but did not argue. “So how shall I improve, then?”

“With practise, there is no other way. I can stand here and tell you all about swordplay for hours, it will mean absolutely nothing if you cannot put it into practise. First I think we will work on blocking. You will be tracking your enemy’s movements, and when you only have daggers to work with, it takes much more hand-eye coordination than a shield does. You can hide behind a shield, you cannot hide behind a little knife.”

“Alright,” Aeris nodded, straightening up and stretching her arms. She did not yet drop back into a fighting stance. “Meredith, I was wondering..”

“Hm?” Meredith took her sword back up as well, but did not level it against Aeris yet.

“Well, you’re a Templar aren’t you?”

“I was one, yes. Some time ago.”

“And Templars have those powers that counteract magic, right?”

Meredith raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but we are not born with them. We must take lyrium to use them.”

“Could you teach those to me too? I’ll take lyrium if I need to, I just- Well, if I ever find that bastard, you know, and he tries to use a spell on me… Knives won’t do much about magic, will they?”

Meredith was quiet for a long time, her gaze fell to her sword, and then to her free hand. She would not make this girl into a Templar, not when she herself was living proof of what can happen when you give a hurt and angry little girl a sword and some lyrium and tell her that her hatred is righteous. Not to mention the withdrawals.. Meredith had been fortunate enough in her life that she had never gone without enough lyrium, but there had been a few times when she’d felt that itch. Her skin had burned and her throat had gone dry, her joints had hurt, her head had throbbed, and she had felt like she would die if she didn’t get more. She was young, then, and she had still had Wentworth to keep her on her feet.

That pain was not something that Meredith would willingly give unto this girl. Lyrium was a heavy burden, so heavy that Meredith had seen it crush several people. Samson came to mind for a moment, and she remembered the way he had begged her not to throw him out, or to at least give him a good supply of lyrium as a going away gift. He’d told her he couldn’t live without it, that he would die and it would be on her shoulders - that hadn’t bothered her at the time. She remembered the reports she’d heard from her patrols that Samson had been seen begging in the streets for just a little bit of dust, or coin enough to buy some.

The mental image of Aeris, dirty and emaciated and desperate, imploring strangers on the streets of whatever city she found herself in for just a little bit of dust struck Meredith like a blow.

“No,” Meredith finally replied, shaking her head. “You do not understand the burden we bear in exchange for those powers, and it is not something I can in good conscience put upon you.”

“I can handle it, really! If I can’t fight magic how am I supposed to fight a mage?” The girl implored, desperation and frustration inching into her tone.

“There are other ways. It does not always take a Templar to put down a blood mage. There are times when regular people have taken them down without our help,” Meredith said, and for a brief, unpleasant moment Meredith thought she could again feel the heat of the fire on her face, she could hear the shouting of the townsfolk, the bellowing call of the mage as she threw spell after spell at her attackers. It was the one time when Meredith had stood frozen, unable to do her duty and unable to act against it as well. She closed her eyes for a moment, gave her head a slight shake, and the sound, the heat vanished. It was replaced with the ever present soft humming of red lyrium in the distance, which Meredith greatly preferred.

“But what if it doesn’t work? I don’t want to- I’ll not meet the same fate as my brothers.” The girl was resolute, and Meredith respected it. But she truly did not understand what lyrium could do to a person.

“You will not, because you will be prepared. There are other tools you can use, grenades, poison tipped arrows, plenty of things that would disorient or incapacitate a mage that you do not need to take lyrium to use.” The knowledge that if this girl had come into her life a few years ago, Meredith would have readily offered her lyrium so long as she would take the vows did not sit lightly on her shoulders.

Aeris sighed, frowning and looking down at the snow by Meredith’s boots. “Fine, then.”

Meredith felt a pang of guilt, but she knew it would be far worse if she agreed to give the girl lyrium. “You will perform just fine without a Templar’s abilities, I have faith in you. Now, come on. Daggers up, you are learning how to block.”

*

“You will not be able to rely on anything but yourself. Even a sword can break, so you must be unbreakable. You must trust in the gifts the Maker has given you, you must trust in what we have taught you.” Valeria had told her this right after smacking her in the head with the flat of a heavy sword. Meredith had barely heard her, her ears were ringing so loudly. “The only things you can count on are the Maker and yourself. Not your sword, not your armor, not any of your compatriots. All of those things can, and will, let you down. Magic will not wait for you to fix a broken blade or cracked armor, nor will it wait for you to pick up your fallen friends.”

*

Aeris departed after another hour or so of practise, sporting several new bruises and saying she had to rise early for her work. Meredith nodded, turned over the practise sword, and lingered in the clearing for a little while longer. It was peaceful, and she was grateful for a little bit of silence. Haven was always bustling now, and with so many people packed so tightly together, there was no such thing as privacy or solitude, not really. And of course, she had her dear tent-mate. She did not mind having Byron close by, but he and silence did not go together. Even in the night, when she laid awake, he had a tendency to mumble in his sleep.

It usually didn’t disturb her that much; it gave her something to listen to while she laid awake at night. Her sleep had often been plagued by nightmares long before she got ahold of that idol, and long before Certainty was forged. The influence of the red lyrium had done her no favours, it had just made her nightmares much, much stranger, and much, much more vivid. After she got ahold of Certainty, Meredith had woken up most nights not knowing where she was, terrified that Kirkwall had been consumed by red lyrium and totally convinced that all her Knights were dead. After a night like that she would be particularly crabby the next morning, both from the exhaustion and the lingering discomfort instilled in her by the dreams. As her hard nights multiplied, Meredith’s temper had grown shorter, her paranoia had grown more intense, and her conviction that there was something horrible on the horizon had grown firmer.

Her changing temperament had not been something anyone in the Gallows was brave enough to speak to her about.

Since she had gotten out of her lyrium prison, her dreams had slowly begun to return. She had woken both herself and Byron up a couple of times because she had gotten more restless, and according to him, she had apparently started to mutter in her sleep as well. Perhaps once the Herald was satisfied that she was not a danger to the Inquisiton, they might let her take up residence in the little abandoned cabin, so that her nights might be a little more peaceful and so she would not risk disturbing anyone were she to have a nightmare. She paused a moment to examine the cabin as she passed it, and decided it would do quite nicely, so long as it was actually vacant.

She continued up along the path and back towards Haven. It was a pleasant stroll, if a little short. There was not very much area around Haven that she felt comfortable venturing into in the dark of night with no weapon about her. No telling what sorts of wildlife she might encounter.

As she rounded the bend and began to come down the incline, she stopped in her tracks at the sound of footsteps coming up the road towards her. She’d been looking down to make sure that she didn’t trip.

“...Knight Commander,” a familiar, startled voice greeted her, somewhat shakily.

“Commander,” she looked up and inclined her head to him. “It is only Meredith, now.”

“Meredith, then,” Cullen said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly uneasy, and Meredith thought she could probably cut the tension in the air with a sword.

“I am pleased to see that you made it out of Kirkwall alive,” Meredith offered, and it really was true. She had no ill will towards him, if anything she was glad that he had come to his senses in time, so that Hawke did not turn his staff on Cullen, too.

“Thank you. I… I must admit I am… Maker,” he muttered, a gloved hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I am surprised to see you. I- we all thought you were dead.” Cullen kept his distance from her, staying near the bottom of the little hill, closer to the tents where some of his soldiers were sleeping. They would hear him if he yelled, both of them knew that.

“I think I might have been, but the Maker saw fit to give me another chance.” Meredith didn’t try to get any closer. His discomfort was obvious enough, but she supposed that they both knew this conversation would have to happen at some point. If the Herald was going to let her stay, then Meredith was going to be a soldier. As a soldier, she would likely have to deal with the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces.

“What do you mean to do with it?” Cullen asked, hands twitching idly at his sides like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Help close the Breach. And I aim to learn what the Templars are doing, hiding away when they are needed.” Save them from their own hubris, probably.

“I have been wondering about that, as well.” He began to fidget with one of this sleeves, and glanced briefly back at the tents behind him. “The Herald told us that you have a suspicion.”

“Yes, I do,” Meredith confirmed with a curt nod of her head.

“Red lyrium, she said.”

“That is my fear.” She paused a moment, glancing off into the distance, over Cullen’s shoulder in the direction where many miles away, the Templars had gathered in their secluded fortress. “I can… I believe I can hear it, still. It’s quiet, but it’s there.”

“Do you.. Is there anything that we can do, do you think? To save them?” Anxiety edged into his voice, and she suspected this was something that had been weighing on him as well.

“I do not yet know, but I intend to try. Even if I have to go to Therinfal myself and talk some sense into them.” Which was the mildest way to say that Meredith intended to ride out to Therinfal and beat some sense into Lord Seeker Lucius with her bare hands if she had to. “Even if the Inquisition turns it’s back on the Order, I could not.”

“Nor could I.”

Silence hung between them for a moment or two, Cullen to nervous to say whatever was on his mind, and Meredith trying to string the words together in her head before saying any of them aloud.

“If you would permit me,” Meredith began. Cullen turned his gaze from the gravel of the road up to her face again. “I know I did you no favours in Kirkwall. I would…” Maker, she was never awfully good with words. “I would like to apologize. You deserved better than that.”

Cullen stared at her for another moment or two, wide eyes and dumbfounded expression. Meredith supposed she would be quite shocked too, were she in his shoes.

“Well, I- that is- Maker. That is.. Kind of you, thank you, Knight Comman- Meredith.” He paused a moment to gather himself, deciding that trying to play nice would be the best course of action if Meredith was going to be around. Besides, if she really had her wits about her again, she might prove useful. “Provided you continue to be.. Sane and reasonable, and you stay with us, perhaps you would not mind helping to train some of the recruits? I could use someone help who knows how to hold a sword.”

“Provided I remain sane and reasonable, I would be glad to assist. I do not care to stand around while everybody else does the work.” She was beginning to feel antsy already, and she intended to ask Rylen if there were any tasks around Haven she might be permitted to help with. Even if she wound up baking bread or repairing swords, she would be glad to have something.

“I trust Rylen or the Herald will inform me when they deem you fit for duty. We shall discuss it further then.” Cullen glanced upwards at the night sky, illuminated by the stars and by the glowing green hole.

“I shall leave you to enjoy your night, Commander,” Meredith said, taking a few steps to the side. She thought it courteous to give Cullen a wide berth. Especially if they were to be working together in the future, she didn’t want to set him on edge. Though she knew that was something that would take time, and probably a lot of it.

“Of course. Goodnight, Kn- Meredith.” It would also take a lot of time for him to adjust to calling her Meredith to her face.

“Goodnight Commander.” With an incline of her head, Meredith passed by him and carried on to her tent. She didn’t look back over her shoulder, but eventually she heard his footsteps begin to carry on up the little hill.

Byron was already out cold when she reached their shared tent. She quietly removed her boots and gambeson before, carefully as she could, crawling into her space by the other wall. It was evident to her that she would not be able to sleep for some time yet, but she thought she might at least close her eyes and rest. It would do no good for her to be exhausted come the morning, when she would habitually rise before the sun.

*

The man - no, the boy - stood in front of Meredith. His posture rigid, his expression set, his eyes distant. He had not even reached his twentieth year, but he already had the look of a man at least twice, maybe three times his age. He was the first one that Meredith had seen a small part of herself in. She recognized that pain, she felt that she understood it. Meredith decided as soon as she met the boy that she would keep him close by, because she expected that just like herself, this boy could take his pain and use it to become something great.

[lafaiette]

Your Lavellan breaks through the fog of Solas’s expectations and suppositions of behavior, limits, and nature that he has held and observed as a millennia-old being. Lavellan is a mortal, a fragile, flawed mortal with death looming and immense social and political and military power and yet she does not allow it to corrupt her. She holds steadfast to duty, to what is right, what is ethical. She is open minded in defiance to everything the world has taught her of spirits being scary and unknown.

@yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy THIS, EXACTLY. This is who Lavellan was for Solas in Inquisition. Not all Lavellans are the same, of course - some are ruder, harsher, more cynical than others, but all of them must have an open mind about spirits, want to save people, and not be tyrants to start a romance with Solas. I don't remember if an Inquisitor can ever say they enjoy having been thrust into this whole mess, like "Hey, interrupting Corypheus' ritual was worth it, look how powerful I am now! >:D "

I believe most Lavellan would feel very disconcerted at the sudden position they are in, even if they were not happy in their clan. They can grow to love the Inquisition and their new leadership role, but it's not something they asked for, that they fought for - it happened because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And this is the first difference with Mythal. Morrigan says that Mythal loved ruling, that she asked Elgar'nan to share power, but wanted to do so in a kind way, like a mother guiding her people. However, she was also prickly, because she hated being wrong, being corrected, wanted to be respected as a god, but not in a servile way, wanted to right wrongs, but only if they were just and interested her according to her ideas. Like all spirits, Morrigan says, her emotions were incredibly strong and volatile.

How, then, can Lavellan remind Solas of her? To continue her romance with him, Lavellan must actually face and accept the idea that the Dalish remember many things wrong. One of the first things she can say to him in Haven is "I am sorry - if the Dalish did you a disservice, I will repair that. How can we do better?" - and in being humble, Lavellan makes Solas humble. He falters, accepts her apology and apologies in return, and admits he was wrong, because the Dalish could never recover what is lost. By showing him humility, Lavellan allows him - a spirit made flesh - to reflect that humbleness and embody it. Mythal never did this, she actually turned his very nature, his wisdom, into pride.

When Solas tells Lavellan about the vallaslin, there are several possible reactions. She can be sad and ashamed ("We try to preserve our culture, and this is what we keep?"), angry because she is hurt, react in shock - but she always accepts the truth. She doesn't get angry at Solas because he corrected her ("They honor the elven gods." "No. They are slave markings."), which is what Mythal would have done; she can get angry because of shame, yes, but at the end she knows what he's saying it's true and she accepts the truth, the wisdom, he gives her. And she can choose what to do with it: renounce the vallaslin's terrible history or embrace the new meaning the Dalish gave them.

Lavellan can make decisions that are wrong, according to Solas, like not exile the Wardens or not use Gaspard as a puppet for Briala and her elves. But they talk about it, they can have a par-on-par discussion about it, something it's clear he never could do with Mythal. In all the regret cutscenes we see, he always accepts to do what she asks of him, never once arguing with her. Yes, he starts his rebellion also against her, because she betrayed him and his ideals of freedom, but it's clear he still feels reverence for her and even asks to meet her in secret to warn her about the Blight they created.

Mythal liked ruling and didn't give up power, even when the Evanuris started going too far. Lavellan gives up her power, in one way or another: she can either completely disband the Inquisition or give it to the Chantry. She doesn't keep the power for herself or start a coup to undermine Ferelden and Orlais' demands. She has lost her arm, discovered world-shattering information, and is surrounded by bloodhounds: so she gives up her position and influence, something not even Mythal, in all her "wisdom and kindness", ever did. Something no ruler, Solas once warned her, would logically do. But she does!

Never, not even once, I considered Lavellan to be a foil to Mythal while playing Inquisition. In that game, Mythal is actually described as a foil to Andraste, to Flemeth, to all the women of Thedas betrayed and cast aside. Flemeth announces there will be a reckoning, and Mythal allows Solas to take her power from her without question, because she wants to be avenged. She has been crawling through the ages for this very purpose.

But in Veilguard, the last regret mural shows her suddenly changing her mind and questioning him, with Solas making just the vaguest comment about the elves deserving to get their immortality back, the faintest of threads tying it back to Trespasser. Why then allow him to take her power, if that's not what she wanted to do anymore?

And how can the fragment of Mythal from the Crossroads, that very fragment Morrigan warns being still tied to vengeance and rage, be the one who manages to change his mind? Why should that part of Mythal, still hungry for retribution, tell him to stop and free him from her service?

So basically one of Solas' murals

is the Crestwood scene, but with reversed roles. Solas is the rejected one, Mythal is the one who walks away, leaving him alone in what I presume was a glade at night, judging from the environmental sounds and hushed tones we can hear.

And, to be honest, I don't know how I feel about it - it feels like it cheapens the Crestwood scene, repeating an abusive pattern, stripping away the romance and softness of that scene. It's, once again, something Solas already went through with Mythal, not something he shares with Lavellan only. It's Weekes saying yet again that Solas saw Mythal in Lavellan, and that's why he fell in love with her. Not because she was Lavellan, but because she reminded him of Mythal and gave him hope that all elves could return to that "level" of wisdom.

What we learn in this game also ruins the kiss scene on the balcony, where Solas say "You have showed wisdom I have not seen since... since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade."

Most of us believed he meant "Wisdom I have not seen since my ancient days in Elvhenan", but it's basically confirmed at this point that he meant "Wisdom I have not seen since Mythal".

A month ago, someone here mentioned how Weekes had said there was a specific reason why Solas had falled for Lavellan. I never found the interview where they said so, but I saw many believed it had something to do with reincarnation, lost soulmates finding each other again etc., but once again, it's clear what Weekes meant, and it's bad, cheap writing.

They could have written a god finally learning the error of his ways thanks to his love for a mortal - a love completely different from that of who was basically an abuser, a parent-like figure forcing him to take form and serve -, but instead they went for the easy route: a god still loving another god, feeling love for a mortal who reminds him of her, and changing his mind only because his god finally gives him permission to be free.

The mortal who supposedly "changes everything" serves no purpose - she actually tells him "There is no fate but the love we share" after he's been "freed" from his service, which in this context, in this situation, sounds more like a punishment, another yoke, some sort of "I finally got you, you can't run from me anymore".

I don't know what happened to Weekes' writing - either they were forced to make these decisions due to various constraints, or they completely changed their style/ideas during development, because this is not the Solas, this is not the Solavellan romance, we got in DA:I.

[dalishious]

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“Who are your canon protagonists?”

Da'Renan Mahariel

Dalia Hawke

Amaris Lavellan

“What order should I read the Dragon Age novels and comics?”

Here is my guide.

“Can you recommend some fanfiction to me?”

I do not read a lot of Dragon Age fanfiction, so no, I’m not a very good person to ask.

“Can you recommend some more blogs to me?”

Sorry, I do not do blog recommendations. I get anxious about it.

“Do you know if there is a mod for…”

Here are some tips for finding mods on the Nexus:

Try vague and different search terms or character names

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“Why do you hate cishet people?” / “Why do you hate white people?”

I do not, unless someone is being a jerk about it.

“Why do you dislike Cullen?”

This question is so common I now have a master list, which you can read here.

“Why do you care so much about people preferring to whitewash Alistair and Fiona? He’s a knightly prince so of course Alistair can’t have a brown mother!!1!”

I’m a biracial person who can’t help but be a little personally insulted by the lengths people will go to trying to claim Alistair is white, and their reasons behind it. Here are a few key posts on this subject. If you ask a question about this and it’s not something I’ve already said, I am just going to send you to these posts rather than repeat it all over again for the billionth time.

Yes, Fiona is Alistair’s mother

And yes, there is reason to believe she isn’t white beyond just Alistair’s skin in DA:O

Because he sure didn’t get his skin from Maric’s side of the family

“But he’s not even that tan” (ignoring that skin colour is not even the only measure of who is white or not)

Alistair was whitewashed to hell and back from DA:O to DA:I

And no, there is no exaggeration because it isn’t necessary

And no it is not just the taint

Or because he spends more time inside

Because he wasn’t just a white guy with a tan to begin with

Or whatever reason you can think of other than holding BioWare responsible for their actions

It is BioWare choosing to change this fictional character’s skin colour from light brown to pale as fuck, because that is what BioWare does

Reasons People Don’t Like Biracial Alistair and Brown Fiona

And the kind of people I have experience with saying he’s white…

…are 99% of the time assholes

“How do you feel about white people having nonwhite OCs?”

I personally feel fine with people having OCs not of their race/ethnicity, as long as they are respectful and put work into it. But I also understand why so many people would prefer it to just not be a thing at all, with good reason, and do not want my own opinion to be used to invalidate someone else’s. You can read more in the links included in this ask.

“Why do you care so much about drama/discourse? Why can’t you just let people enjoy the series? Why does it matter?”

Because when the “discourse” is a group of bigots defending their bigotry, when people “just enjoying the series” comes at the expense of other people, “ignore it and it will go away” has a 0% success rate at changing anything.

“If you hate the games so much, why do you play them?”

I do not hate the games. I am just aware that you can enjoy something while also critiquing the parts you wish were better. It is really not that difficult a concept, you know?

[shift-shaping]

Playing the magi origin in DAO again is interesting

One of the first things you realize is that there are few, if any, reliable sources of information. Everyone is lying to you at least a little bit. Even Duncan refuses to give you details on what Irving and Greagoir were discussing with him before you walked into the room.

It's also hilarious how bad Cullen's character design is. Like, yes, in general this game really sucks at making men not look 40+, but Cullen looks really awful. It's a joke in the fandom that he looks younger at 29-ish (Inquisition) than he did at 19 (Origins) but he looks as old as Duncan. Like it's BAD. But it makes me wonder what the plan was for his character during development. I'm aware that his writer thought he was a creep before she passed him off to someone else, but his character design is also pretty creepy. It's fascinating that they made this character look like he does, allegedly intended him to be creepy, and still gave you the option to fully reciprocate his affections. Like yes, he obviously has a crush on Amell/Surana that everyone knows about, but she has to come on to him to make it unambiguous.

And the tower is a prison. Full-stop. There is no privacy, even for senior enchanters, though I haven't seen Irving's quarters yet. There are no doors to individual mage quarters, not even to the bathrooms, and most of the beds are in full view of the hallway. Amell/Surana is confirmed to have been at the Circle from a young age. What does that do to you? The constant surveillance, the feeling that you are always being watched and judged? I mean, I was raised catholic so I have some idea.

There are, however, very few templars relative to the number of mages within the tower, and magic is practiced in somewhat controlled settings without templar supervision as long as a senior mage is present.

This isn't necessarily a good thing. You can talk to a mage praying in the chapel who is absolutely tortured by the propaganda she's been fed about who she is. The threat of tranquility is tangible and ever-present, but some mages (Owain, for example) choose tranquility because they believe it is what they need to protect others. You don't need as many templars when the mages have been convinced to police themselves.

Finally, if you play as Surana, you can directly contradict Cullen's later statement to Lavellan about there not really being different treatment for elves and humans at Kinloch. Duncan asks what it's like to be an elf at the tower, and you can say something like "it's hard. All the time." The only possible evidence to contradict this is that one of the enchanters in charge of supplies is an elf, but there don't seem to be many elves present at Kinloch in-general.

(sidenote: mages are not allowed to have children, and those children that are born of mage mothers are taken by the chantry. But elves can't be part of the chantry. What happens to elven children of mages?)

[dreadfutures]

TLDR: Dead Pasts, Dread Futures

Decided to put something together for All The People who will never read DPDF but may actually be interested in Ixchel for other reasons. tw mental health, past suicide. She gets better. If you read all of this you’d be all caught up on Dead Pasts and Dread Futures and (probably) be ready to jump into The Brave Guide, though you’d be missing a lot of nuance. Like 600,000 words of nuance. But.

tldr: Ixchel is the Inquisitor and main protagonist of my resurrection/time-travel/fix-it Bloodied & Broken series of fics. Her story is #hopepunk and deals with her upward journey finding hope for herself & for the people around her. But she starts at rock bottom. She was an orphan of unknown partial-elven origin, eventually adopted in Clan Lavellan, and first became Inquisitor as a clueless teenager and fucked up a lot. She had no romance arc, but she loved all of her friends dearly. Her entire life became the Inquisition and when it ended she had nothing left. She died by suicide a few years after Trespasser when she's ~ 25-27ish. Dorian ((and Solas)) used the power available after the Veil fell to return her back in time to the Conclave to do it all over again.

Early Life

The nameless half(?) elven orphan grew up fending for herself and sheltering in ruins in Ferelden prior to the Fifth Blight. No Dalish Clans she encountered took her in, either because of her not-fully-elven appearance (unlikely) or because times were tight and dangerous due to the encroaching Blight (more likely). She believed it to be due to her not being fully Elven and developed a complex about wanting to belong. She stowed away on a boat to the Free Marches and ended up wandering the countryside. After the Archdemon's defeat she returned to Ferelden, and in a ruin there she discovered a word she'd found written on a wall: IX CHEL. She encountered a mysterious traveler (Halevune Mahariel, HOF), who translated the inscrutable runes into Ixchel, and she thought it was pretty so she took it as her name.

She eventually did return to the countryside outside of Markham calling herself by this new name. In 9:37 Dragon, a particularly harsh winter drove the Lavellan Clan to seek out the orphan and took her in to teach her to hunt and fend for herself better. She remained with the clan for a short time but wanted to "prove" herself, so she volunteered to go to the Conclave as a spy, due to her ability to pass as a human and travel unnoticed. She was roughly sixteen years old.

Some traits inherent to her upbringing are that she has a nearly photographic memory and can memorize things pretty well be repeating things to herself, which is how she would "learn" things from ruins growing up. She has no terrible fear of demons -- no more so than bears. Demons are predictable creatures of habit and will eventually give up chasing. But Darkspawn have always terrified her.

First Inquisition

She fucked up a lot like I said. She tried to please everyone but that always meant someone disapproved of her choices. She slowly developed her own moral code mostly through saying "oh, shit, I actually hate how I feel after making that decision." Her advisers were pissed at her when she formed an equal alliances with the Free Mages. So when she had to choose for the Wardens, she conscripted them. Which pissed everyone off because they wanted her to exile them. And so on.

She tried the make the Inquisition welcome to everyone and thus decorated and incorporated aspects of many different cultures in it, but she worried that she just ended up making everyone feel uncomfortable, and it only highlighted to her the fact that she didn't really feel like she belonged to any group. She butted heads with Sera a LOT in these regards, due to Sera's scorn for how much Ixchel desperately wanted to be "an elfy elf."

Her first Inquisition lasted a very long time--many years, in fact--as she criss-crossed Thedas and fumbled so much and tried to figure out who and what Corypheus was.

Solas

Ixchel has special relationships with everyone. Her closest friends were Dorian, Solas, and Cassandra. Dorian as an older brother/best friend, Cassandra as a sister/stern tutor, and Solas as a mentor and nurturing figure. She was endlessly curious, good-hearted, and quick to learn. Solas saw a lot of himself in her desire to do good but the constant mistakes she made. He afforded her the forgiveness and support that he never offers himself. She had no biases of the Chantry or Dalish upbringings and absorbed everything he had to teach her about history, war, politics, elves, spirits, dragons, you name it.

But part of this curiosity and openness meant that Ixchel picked up on certain inconsistencies and evasions and became somewhat suspicious about his origins. After the encounter at the Temple of Mythal, she figured out not only that he was an Ancient Elf...but that he was Fen'Harel. He admitted as much but did not fully explain his history, his role in it, or his agenda. They grew even closer as friends and she asked him ever more questions about the past.

But Ixchel did not end up adopting his *philosophies* and in the end the student would surpass the teacher in many ways. In other ways, she was shaped very much by him and Dorian's insecurities and flaws of Pride and fatalism.

Gaining Her Vallaslin

She lost her Clan during this time and definitely blames her advisors in part. With her clan's death, her self esteem took a massive hit and she didn't think she *deserved* to be welcomed as an elf because she thought she hadn't done enough for them. She had learned about Celene's burning of Halamshiral *after* she saved Celene's life. Sera was constantly mocking her. And her advisers were constantly exasperated at her. After a very hard-won "victory" at Adamant, Ixchel had a bit of a spiral. Solas and Dorian and Cassandra picked her back up out of it and started building her up as her own person, growing from her mistakes, and finding worth in herself.

She completed Jaws of Hakkon during this time. When she discovered Ameridan's identity she of course wanted to bring that information to the Dalish. She ended up taking it *personally* to the clan on the Exalted Plains lead by Keeper Hawen. He had originally called her a "flat ear" and a "shem" but then she went OUT of her way to help them, and then this: she brought not only the news that the first Inquisitor, Ameridan, was Dalish and a mage -- but also presented the Clan with the Suledin Blade -- and gave them the original copy of the Tale of Red Crossing found in Din'an Hanin.

For this effort, Hawen--who had already started to see her as "a Dalish elf standing for all Thedas" offered her the vallaslin of Dirthamen, the Secret Keeper. She was to take this honor as "a lore-seeker, secret-keeper, and finder-of-kin." Solas took her aside at this point and told her the truth about the vallaslin. She had her first real fight with him about it and insisted she would take the vallaslin because of what it represented to her and to the modern elves. I wrote a oneshot about their fight. :sadcat:  He ends up telling her that he respects her decision and admires her but she feels like there's a hollowness to it.

Post-Corypheus & the Exalted Council

Ixchel's entire personhood was built around the Inquisition. Her first and only real taste of family, of *home*, came with it. And after Corypheus's defeat, her found family began to drift away. Solas left first, of course, without saying goodbye. :sadcat:  Cassandra became Divine. Leliana was often busy helping Cassandra. Dorian went back to Tevinter. Thom began his travels to preach and support the imprisoned across Thedas. Cole, who had become more human, went with Varric to Kirkwall. Her armies began to return home. Etcetera, etcetera.

During the time between Corypheus's defeat and Trespasser, Ixchel travelled with Morrigan and Kieran. They spent time with the Avvar and Chasind, and they traveled all over via eluvian and on foot. Ixchel started learning ancient Elvhen from Morrigan, who had the Well of Sorrows. She and Kieran grew close. Mahariel returned from the West--having failed in his endeavors--and stayed with them for a time. But then Mahariel started to get sick.

Ixchel returned to Skyhold alone. By the time of the Exalted Council she was in a pretty dark and lonely place, ||which was only made worse by Solas's revelations -- and his refusal to let her join him, or to kill her.||

In the aftermath, Ixchel disbanded the Inquisition entirely.

Cassandra wanted her to stay in the grand cloister where she had come to live, but Ixchel didn't want to take up her time and concern. Cole offered to come back to Skyhold to stay with her but she thought his work was too important. Cullen wanted to stay with her but she essentially kicked him out, because she believed in his lyrium rehabilitation clinic. And so on, and so on, until Skyhold was left with no more than thirty people in it at the time. Her anti-Solas efforts were essentially comprised of herself, Charter, Lace Harding, and Jester, and Sutherland and Sutherland's company. Ixchel tried for a while to find a way to defeat or disprove Solas's plans, but she had a harder and harder time motivating herself.

After the events of Callback, where Solas's frescoes are destroyed by a demon who fed on Solas's Regrets, Ixchel's story starts to end.

**Dead Pasts and Dread Futures**

Starts with Ixchel's death, her literal rock bottom. Solas succeeds and the Veil comes down. Magic floods the world. And Dorian uses his gifts and this limitless power to reforge Ixchel's soul out of the distant Fade, reforge her body out of his memories, and sends her back in time. Solas meddles.

Ixchel isn't the kind of person who can turn her back on people in need and her story is thus about how empathy sometimes leads to an overwhelming sense of responsibility and how and when to set boundaries for her own sanity and health. She jumps into the Inquisition all over again, relying on her foreknowledge and her regrets to lead her decisions this time. As her power grows, she begins to question too how much she SHOULD meddle, and how much should be left up to the free will of people around her. Her relationships with *every single companion* (except Sera) are explored, and the dissonance between what she knows and loves about them & what they know and understand about themselves is highlighted.

And she finds herself empathizing and loving and wishing better for Solas every step of the way. They have a romance that's overshadowed by feelings of guilt and grief that are at once related to the person in front of them, and also not at all. They are broken in a lot of the same ways. They are mirrors for each other. And in loving the other they learn to love and forgive themselves.

The thesis of Ixchel's story is this: "Hope is a choice you make every day. Belief is a state of being." The question is when, if ever, hope can become belief.

Ixchel convinces Solas to choose hope. And to help her continue to choose hope, too. They can pick each other up when they stumble or waver on this path. They don't support each other, or follow each other--they walk *with* each other in parallel as equals.

**DPDF Major Events** (spoilers)

Ixchel saved both the Mages and the Templars and recruited them into the Inquisition

Ixchel convinced Samson and Calpernia to defect from Corypheus's ranks

Ixchel killed Corypheus's red lyrium dragon

Ixchel recruited the Wardens after Adamant

No one (....sorta) was left in the Fade

Ixchel can hear the Calling, and lyrium, for some mysterious reason, though she is not Blighted herself

Ixchel is developing mild magical ability independent of the Anchor

Cole chose to align more with his Spirit side

Dorian, Cassandra, Solas, Cole, Morrigan, and Kieran all know the truth about Ixchel's past and the circumstances of her resurrection

...though no one but Ixchel and Cole know that Solas is the Dread Wolf.

Ixchel reunited Briala and Celene. Gaspard is dead. Briala and Celene are having some Issues ™️

The Halamshiral Alienage was burned a second time by Gaspard's Chevaliers and malcontents, with some string-pulling by Corypheus

The Halamshiral Alienage formed a labor union comprised of disenfranchized humans, alienage elves, and other nonhuman merchants and bargained with Celene and Briala with the neutral support of the Inquisition

In the wake of what happened in Halamshiral, Ixchel is viewed as a leader of rebellions for equality, named "The Brave Guide."

Alienages all around Thedas have begun to demand their walls to be torn down, to integrate with their cities with equal amenities or be allowed self-governance.

Mythal is meddling in her life again, though Ixchel and Solas cannot figure out why.

Ixchel has discovered that a key ingredient to her resurrection was the Old God Soul that Mythal took from Kieran, though it is now dead or dormant within Ixchel

Ixchel and Solas are in a loving, trusting, and very communicative relationship. #battlecouple

He has abandoned the din'an'shiral to instead walk with Ixchel on a path of hope -- to work with the world as it is, rather than to change it by force

Ixchel has begun to incorporate spirit channeling/partial temporary possession into her battle style, the way the Avvar do. For this she was named 'god song' instead of the canon 'first thaw.'

Anders and Justice separated with the help of the Avvar, and now Anders wants to volunteer to be made Tranquil expressly so that Cassandra can try the Cure on him, and make sure the Cure is made safe for others, so that any Tranquil who wants to be cured can be cured safely and rehabilitated safely.

Ixchel personally intervened in Wycome to Save Clan Lavellan and Protect Wycome's Alienage, and thwarted the Venatori's red lyrium plot

Anti-Elven sentiment across Thedas is threatening to boil over

She met the mysterious Marquis de Serault, who has discovered red lyrium growing in their Marquisate

Corypheus attacked Skyhold but Ixchel thwarted him and stole the Orb of Destruction, which she now keeps below Skyhold. Corypheus escaped.

And there we have it, 600,000 words summed up!

As of January 2022, you’d be all caught up.

The questions dealt with The Brave Guide are more about dissonance between how one is perceived and how much control one has over it, and what to do with the image you have in the world. Where DPDF was about Ixchel vs. Herself more often than not, RGL is more about Ixchel vs. The Image of Ixchel -- as well as Solas vs. Himself, because hope isn't easy.

[merrybandofmurderers]

tagged by @mrs-theirin so y'all get some angst from the bull/yuo fic where bull learns that yuo is a blood mage

It’s the little things that start to add up.

Lavellan won’t take healing. He never leaves camp without extra healing potions. He doesn’t deflect all the attacks he could. Particularly nasty wounds only seem to invigorate him. His wounds stop bleeding too quickly. The scent of blood lingers on him after rough fights, even after they’ve cleaned. Once, the Bull swears he caught him use a haste spell after being hit with a silence.

He’s a battlemage, sure, but that doesn’t explain all of it. Lavellan says he doesn’t like to waste the mana healing takes, but he’s a shitty liar; his eyes always give him away.

It’s not hard to guess why the boss keeps it a secret, but the knowledge unsettles the Bull. He gets nervous now whenever Lavellan touches him.

Before he can figure out how to address it, he’s invited on an excursion to the Exalted Plains. “I’m in the mood to hunt some Freemen,” Lavellan says with a vicious grin. The Bull’s not about to pass up an offer like that. Nerves aside, it’s always a pleasure to watch the boss fight.

The rest of the party consists of Cole and Solas. It’s a curious combination. The boss has something specific in mind for this adventure.

The Bull isn’t left in suspense for long. The boss picks them a fight first thing with a large group of Freemen holed up in a burnt-out house. The Freemen aren’t any more creative than the average grunt, and their greater numbers always make them arrogant. The Bull almost pities them.

One of them gets the boss into a corner. Before the Bull can intervene, Lavellan twists his wrist, and the Freeman seizes up. His limbs convulse, and his veins burst open, spattering Lavellan’s robes with red. His body slumps before Lavellan’s feet, steam blooming from the still bubbling blood.

The Bull is so shocked, he catches the warrior lunging for his blind spot too late. The woman drops to the ground before she can strike, Cole behind her, bloody daggers raised. The Bull releases the breath stuck in his throat. “Thanks, kid.”

That’s the last of them. Lavellan is looking at him, chin raised in challenge. The Bull is well-acquainted with that particular stance, like he’s throwing down a dare. But it’s different than when the Bull is facing him in bed or the training ring. His brows are drawn down, his mouth a severe, unhappy line.

Solas is standing off to the side, looking across the scarred plains as if what just happened is of no concern. Then Cole shuffles and says, “I’m sorry, The Iron Bull,” and it clicks into place.

The Bull can’t help but laugh, chagrined but impressed. People think the Inquisitor to be hot-headed and belligerent, but behind the show of a raised voice and prickly demeanor is a calculating and ruthless mind. The Bull shouldn’t have forgotten that just because Lavellan’s been sweet on him lately.

He lets his axe fall to the ground. Cole skitters away, but Lavellan doesn’t even flinch. “You really thought I’d take it that badly?” It stings, but Lavellan has no reason to trust him on this. The least the Bull can do is show he’s not interested in testing his blade against the Inquisitor’s fire.

A muscle in Lavellan’s jaw twitches. “If it’s a problem, you should tell me now.”

“If it were a ‘problem’, you’d have known as soon as I did.”

Lavellan’s eyes narrow. “You’re too smart to show your hand like that.”

This realization is more than a sting. This isn’t some conflict of ideology between comrades. The boss is worried the Bull will use this against him. Tell the Seeker or Cullen, get him torn down from his pedestal. Give the information to the Ben-Hassrath to leverage Lavellan for the Qun’s will.

“I wouldn’t do that,” the Iron Bull says.

Lavellan’s lip curls, but his eyes are anguished. He wants to believe it but can’t. The Bull doesn’t know how to convince him.

tagging @gaysolavellan, @fade-and-loathing-in-thedas, @midnightprelude, @cciarants