#but it's this side that lavellan falls in love with

[mightierthanthecanon]

[Let Solas kill them]

[attractthecrows]

man i'd really like for revallen to encounter the ghost of his father but with his skillset it's just not likely

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

I'm always interested in analyses that portray a romanced Solas as a predatory hee hee trickster god manipulating a young and impressionable Lavellan into falling for him and if that's your world state go ahead and live your truth b/c it's frankly none of my business, but I sincerely think there are those who forget that for a lot of people, a romanced Lavellan is (with all due respect to my own Solasmancing Inquisitor Rielle Lavelllan) batshit crazy. Having her boyfriend turn out to be a wolf god is honestly the least of her problems but oh boy is she unafraid to become one to fix this mess.

This is a woman who woke up in a dungeon with a glowing hand, figured out she could fix the world, and thought "fuck it, it's not like I'll have anything else better to do if Corypheus sticks around. Also. Everyone here kind of looks like they want to kill me, so maybe I'll stick with the protective powers that be for a minute." And then all of five seconds later she gets her hand snatched by a sketchy elven apostate who knows exactly what to do with her shiny new powers and cannot stop himself from having a Mr. Darcy level hand-flex after he lets it go (in my heart and soul this happens just out of the camera's gaze) and goes "hmm maybe there's something to be said for this world saving thing."

This is a woman who brought an entire fucking avalanche down on herself and three of her closest friends (and I do mean closest as in physical proximity, she doesn't know these people who are looking at her like she's Thedas' Next Top Idol) because even if it killed her it was the proper middle finger to send to the wannabe god bringing his army tap-dancing down the mountain pass towards her on the one night she had scheduled off to celebrate finally taking a W.

This is a woman going Take 2 Electric Boogaloo on waking up with no idea where she is and learning she was successful in spite-dragging herself up a different fucking mountain in a blizzard. Except now everyone is fighting wait nope now they're Kumbaya-ing a song Andraste's Herald should really probably be familiar with whoops, oh thank God, time for a side convo with the same apostate who's been trying to turn her entire life into a history class only for her to dive in headfirst (much to his initial abject horror) and get that good good discourse she needs since she can't go around arguing with everyone else like she wants to. "The orb is ours." You know what? Of course it is. But if they need the world saved from an elven oopsie, who better to right things than an elf? Fuck it, we ball.

This is a woman who misses being close to nature and goes positively feral at Skyhold, yeeting herself over balconies and banisters and turning the ancient fortress into her personal parkour playground because she's got energy to work off and shit to do, and if the path of least resistance to hunt down everyone she needs to talk to is coincidentally the same path that will absolutely wreck her knees by the time she's sixty, that's just how it has to be.

This is a woman who finds herself back at Haven with a man she's found it possible to be unfetteringly unabashedly herself with and thinks, "hey, maybe there could be more than the flirations we've exchanged over heated discussions and philosophical deep-dives, maybe I can have just one smooch as a treat." And when she feels her slowly unfurling passion reciprocated only to be shut down? She resolves herself to fight for this fledgling love and all the fade tongue that comes with it. This is a woman who gets the tiniest glimpse of what a retirement plan might look like after this whole saving the mortal world thing and buys all the way in.

This is a woman who has Grey Wardens to save from themselves, an empire trying to self-cannibalize, and still finds the time to go rescue a spirit because she, as a fellow comrade caught up in this mess, knows damn well that no innocent deserves to suffer if she can help it while she's got this insane amount of power she never asked for. And if that happens to lead to the man she feels safe enough to nap on the library couches with confessing at last the feelings she knows he's been smothering beneath his all-too-collected surface? Yeah, she'll take that W.

This is a woman who gets absolutely blasted head-over-ass into the fade and goes "honestly things were going a little TOO well." This is a woman who sneaks a peak at the closest fears of the companions she's come to know and love and goes "not on my fucking watch." This is a woman who sees that the man she forces herself to learn the old language for, her vhenan, fears being alone more than anything in the entire knowing world and resolves herself to ensuring it never comes to pass.

This is a woman who gets the opportunity to shape the government of a straight up country and runs around collecting wooden fucking halla in a palace full of elven servants with no time to dwell on that particularly cruel irony because out here it's scheme or be schemed. This a woman who collapses against a balcony railing after putting out some of the sickest literal and metaphorical dance moves The Game has ever seen, resigned to bear her ever-increasing burdens alone, only to find her heart and his horrible horrible hat extending a hand, promising her that if he is not alone, then neither is she.

Like, do you feel me here?

And then he dares to think something as sudden and damning as the truth is enough to keep her away? The queen of tough conversations and tougher choices? No, no, dear readers who have made it this far into my descent into madness.

Inquisitor Lavellan is a master-class in encouraging the odds against her to fuck around and find out. She is a rift-mending false-god-bashing politcally savvy terror upon all of Thedas. Solas (and all of the living breathing world) is lucky she took time out of her busy schedule to notice the way his smile softens when talking about spirits or appreciate the fluidity of his form when they're obliterating venatori out in the field. This man cradled her cheeks in his shaking hands, looked into weary and wide eyes and called her beautiful, and had the audacity to steal her heart before trying to peace out and take it with him.

If she's got to track down a real god this time and frog march him into the fade to reclaim both her heart and the future she fought for because all he wants to do is launch himself like a meteor towards achieving his greatest fear, if she has to spend hours lecturing him on the sheer audacity of his ass while spirits float by and realize they're grateful they never had the chance to take on a body and subject themselves to a verbal lashing this brutal, if she has to do cartwheels around him while dropping all sorts of sweet nothings in the language she is now quite proficient in until he gets it through his luminous gleaming skull that when she said "var lath vir suledin" my girl meant it? Then that's what she's going to do.

"I wish it could, vhenan."

Oh it's going to, buddy. Buckle up to get wrecked, to get absolutely loved and cherished you fool, because Inquisitor Lavellan is not the Dread Wolf's prey, she's his hunter.

[sammakesart]

Solavellan, or the Tale of the Dread Bridegroom

The reason I have always been drawn to the Solas and Lavellan romance in the Dragon Age series (besides having a deep love for villains and dramatic cheekbones) is because it brings to mind my favorite type of fairytale: the animal (or monster) bridegroom. The most famous of these would probably be Beauty and the Beast. However, the Solavellan romance felt more similar to my favorite iteration of this type: East of the Sun and West of the Moon. 

In the tale, a young woman is married to a monster… or so she thinks. He is keeping his true identity a secret from her. He brings her to an enchanted castle, and everything is actually pretty great for a time. Then she grows too curious. She discovers his true identity—he’s an attractive man! And a prince! He is forced to leave her and return to his evil witch-queen stepmother. Our heroine, who has fallen in love with her revealed prince, sets out to find him and save him from his wicked stepmother. She has to make a perilous journey. She faces trials and tribulations. She frees her prince, breaks the curse, and they leave together to live happily ever after.

There is also another tale that has many parallels to the Solavellan romance. The myth of Eros and Psyche, which is the blueprint for the animal bridegroom tales. It follows the same general plot, but I’d like to highlight a few differences. This is a myth about a god falling in love with a mortal, and that mortal becoming a goddess herself in the end after proving herself and winning her god-husband back.

In the myth, Eros is sent by his mother, Aphrodite, to trick Psyche into falling in love with something hideous for a perceived infraction against the goddess. Basically, Psyche had too many admirers who were worshiping her as the second coming of Aphrodite. Eros falls in love with Psyche instead, and spirits her away to a castle. She discovers his true identity. He flees. She faces trials. Etc and so forth. Eros and Psyche are reunited. She is given the drink of immortality, and joins her husband in the realm of the gods as a goddess in her own right so they can be together as equals.

It was the kind of ending I wanted for Solas and Lavellan. A heroine falls in love with a cursed prince and saves him. A mortal falls in love with a god, a doomed by the narrative pairing if there ever was one, but in the end, she triumphs, and she joins him as his equal.

Those are very simplified synopses, but you can see the parallels. Solas, in a reversal of the beast-husband trope, is keeping half of his identity secret from Lavellan, but it’s the beast (the Dread Wolf) side of himself he is keeping a secret. He takes Lavellan to his castle, Skyhold. They begin to fall in love. They kiss in a dream. They kiss on a balcony. They dance at a ball. Very fairy tale romance. They’re happy. Until they’re not.

When our heroine discovers Solas’s true identity, that he is Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf himself (who does indeed turn into a giant wolf monster as we see in Veilguard), he must leave our heroine, and she cannot join him. What can Lavellan do? Well, swear to save him, of course! And if that is what she chooses, she sets out on her own journey of trials and tribulations to rescue her monstrous prince. But he is not just the prince or the monster, he’s the villain as well. Delicious.

Lavellan is Solas’s heroine, his knight in shining armor. Funnily enough, you can make a joke about “riding in on a shining steed” to Solas during an early conversation with him. She can also flirt with him later during this conversation. What is that flirt option? “You can trust me.” She tells him she will protect him… however she has to. Solas here is the damsel in distress, the prince who needs saving, and she will save her prince from his tower (or his regret prison) however she has to.

What trials does our heroine have to face, you ask? Besides the tracking him down, of course. Well, let’s see. Trials always come in threes.

Three times Lavellan reaches out to him, and asks him to stop. She tells him that whatever he is facing, they can face it together. “Whatever you need, we can find together.” “Let me help you, Solas.” “I am walking the dinan’shiral with you.” And it’s like he’s under a curse to reject her, but every time he reminds her he loves her, because he wants to be saved. He wants to be with her. “I cannot do that.” He does love her. “I wish it could, vhenan.” He wants their love to triumph. “Ir abelas, vhenan. I cannot.” One more time, my heart. Ask me one more time. He is under a geas, but screaming as loud as it will let him: Save me! I love you!

(I do not think he is under a literal geas in the story. It is more of a psychological one, one he has put himself under to justify his wrongdoings to himself.)

It also is very fitting that the rule of three is what it takes to stop him: Mythal, Rook, and Lavellan. Past, present, and future. Though it was Lavellan who found the first statue which kicked off the quest, the spark of hope that he could be saved still.

It also appears that Solas reaches out to Lavellan three times on his own. He orchestrates a meeting in Crossroads to explain. He visits her in dreams, though from an endless distance. He sends her a letter, reaffirming his love for her and telling her he wanted to be with her, and that his feelings will never change.

So the fourth time she reaches out, after the (metaphorical) curse has been lifted, there is no rejection. She’s won. He only offers a warning. She must choose him freely and with full knowledge of what is to come. She does. They perform a wedding ceremony of their own making and share a bloody kiss. Peak cinema.

It’s a darker fairytale, where the heroine falls for the prince, the monster, and the evil sorcerer all in one. And she wins. She gets everything she wants.

I’m just very passionate about fairytales. I wrote many a paper on them in college. Nothing pleases me more than a good retelling that captures the essence of what fairytales are truly about.

I think too many critics are trying to view Solas and Lavellan’s romance through the lens of a real life, modern day relationship. But fairytales are the realm of allegory, not reality.

We are in the realm of the mythic. Here be gods and monsters, princes and evil sorcerers. And Solas is all of those things. Lavellan is the heroine of all time who ends the story having saved the world (again), and is now ascending to godhood (there is an Andraste and the Maker parallel here, I swear), and she’s rescued her true love to top it all off.

I see a modern trend of no longer giving heroines love stories, and I dislike it. Because love stories in fiction are rarely ever about just finding a man. It’s about accepting the whole of yourself. I think of the heroine’s journey. The reconciliation with the masculine and the darker aspects of yourself. Women are told they must always be good. Make the right choices. Nah, let her fall in love with the villain and be selfish. Let her make out with her monster covered in blood as a treat.

I think monster romance has become so popular lately because, subconsciously, women feel like there is a monster inside of themselves that they have to hide from the world, lest you be judged for being imperfect, ugly, monstrous. Monster, and by extension villain, romance lets you fall in love with the dark other as the ultimate form of self-acceptance. (This is not an experience exclusive to women by any means, but I can only speak to my personal experience as one.)

Our heroine didn’t make the polite, respectable choice. She fell for the monster, the villain, and chose herself in the end. She didn’t choose a man. She wasn’t chasing after him, begging him to love her, in the hope of getting him back. She was pursuing him in her quest to stop him in order to save the world. She was just also in love with him and hoped he could be saved. Hope is a powerful thing, but this age has made people cynical. Let her have a little hope. Sometimes it’s all we have.

I do believe she would have killed him if she had to. And he would have killed her if given absolutely no other choice, or perhaps let her kill him for an extra layer of angst. Interestingly, I think Lavellan would have been able to live with that choice, but I don’t think Solas would have been able to. It would have destroyed him, fully twisted him into Pride, and he would have lost any hope of being able to “come back.”

I am fascinated by the fact that Lavellan and Solas are quintessential hero archetypes. The type that will not sacrifice the fate of world for their love, but will sacrifice their love for the world and for the “greater good”—as they see it. Only Solas has twisted himself into the villain. He’s a dark mirror of the hero. He is the hero, reversed. Thus, he dooms the world in attempting to save it. Repeatedly. (“He’s a tragic deuteragonist!” I scream, as they drag me away.)

Lavellan is the upright hero. She will save the day, or die trying. She will sacrifice her love, which is why I think it’s incorrect to say she gave everything up for him. She says in her second conversation with Rook that she would not join him in his Fade Prison. “To give up the world for him? No. We’ve got to save it first.” She will not give up everything for him. She will not doom the world to be with him. But after the world is saved… well, then. That’s a different story. She wants to be with him. And together, they can find balance.

They were both made and shaped into figureheads. Weapons. Legends. A hero and a villain. They’ve had the fate of the world on their shoulders multiple times over. There *is* no place for them in this world. But in another world... they can find their true selves away from well-meant misunderstanding and mindless worship. 

This is an apotheosis of Lavellan’s own choosing. I will not be your Herald. I will be a god on my own terms.

Solas never saw Lavellan as anyone other than who she is. He knew she was not the Herald, and he never treated her as such. He was uniquely able to understand her plight. He too had been given a title once and was later consumed by it. Dread Wolf.

Where else can two people like them go? Especially where they can be together in peace?

However, I don’t see this as the end for them. They are just onto the next adventure, this time together. And they’ll be unstoppable. The narrative had to make them exit stage left. No enemy could possibly win against them. They are too powerful. Lavellan is stronger than the narrative itself. The narrative had doomed her love, and she went: “No, I don’t accept that. I will save the world, win my prince/monster/villain, and now we’re leaving. Thanks!”

And Solas? We saw how devoted he was to Mythal. But Mythal never chose him. She twisted him into Pride. Used him as a weapon… and he destroyed the world for her. Twice. And was trying for a third. Just imagine what he could accomplish now with Lavellan, who chose him. Who encouraged him to be Wisdom. Who does not stand above him, as his goddess—but beside him, as his wife. Yeah, the writers had to put them in the Fade Prison. Their combined power was just too strong.

And I don’t believe for a minute they’ll be trapped in that regret prison forever. Solas tells us how to escape, and now he is in the right state of mind to accomplish it. Solas will do his court-ordered therapy. Lavellan will get a much needed vacation in dream land… then they’re going to heal the blight with the power of love. Or something. They just needed to be nerfed long enough for BioWare to squeeze a few more games out of the franchise. Then Solas and Lavellan will be set free to find a secret third option for the Veil, remove it safely, and Sandal’s prophecy will finally come true: “One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.”

This is not to say I don’t have plenty of critiques for how Solas and Lavellan’s romance was written and concluded in Veilguard. But I think it was always going to be disappointing in some regards because it’s very difficult to conclude your heroine’s story from a new hero’s point of view in a new hero’s story. She will lack the agency she needs in this kind of tale because she has been relegated to a minor NPC, and she (and we) can hardly get a peak into Solas’s state of mind. How I wish we could have asked him endless insightful questions, instead of just pointing fingers. How I wish while Rook was in the prison, we could have controlled our Inquisitor for a quest or two and had a private conversation with Solas. The writing overall was a huge letdown for me. But I still love my once doomed couple, now together forever. I always will. 

[vivemonroi]

Conversation between Rook and Lavellan

might be spoiler!

She sounds so... broken

Some of the flashbacks I've got while was listening to this:

''He seemed so kind, and wise, and sad''

— You're bein' grim and fatalistic in hope of getting me into bed, aren't you?

— I am grim and fatalistic. Getting you into bed is just an enjoyable side benefit.

''He let me fall in love with him and then told me we couldn't"

— Solas, don't leave me, not now. I love you.

— You have a rare and marvellous spirit. In another world..

— Why not this one?

— I can't.

''But after... if there were a way, if he felt the same, if I could leave the world behind and just have him... I don't know"

— Solas, var lath vir suledin.

— I wish it could, Vhenan.

All inquisitor's scenes are just.. raw emotions

[armyvulcan]

ok, ok, w knowledge that emmrich was the LEAST romanced companion it has me churning my noggin for EMPHASIS of how rook and emmrich function as a couple

1) when emmrich heads to the kitchen after his routine studies, he anticipates his favorite blend of tea, but smiles when the teapot is already steaming, and his particular blend of herbs and spices are already awaiting in his preferred fainted lilac teacup he brought from the necropolis

2) after unsheathing her filthy, mud-ridden and bloody armor, rook’s body whines for an hour long soak to her (un)surprise of a bath, hot and humid of elfroot, and bergamot, bubbling over onto the tile, her silk robe — deep, blue/red purple — draped on the side table

3) in their few evenings free, away from their companions and other gods-fucked-the-world disasters, they read; rook enticed w missives from inquistor lavellan, unaware at the few moans leaving her lips as emmrich massages her foot, his thumb working the ball of it — he wonders if she knows she’s a toe-tipper

4) emmrich arrived at his wash basin, his face caked with soot and debris, making his crinkles more prominent, doesn’t question the newly wrapped package of his preferred lotion, and face oil, but instead applies it more liberally in his cleansing — it’s rook’s turn to sleep over

5) at the conclusion of their group council, where tensions are high and words were strewn across without remorse, and everyone left unsteady, unconvinced, rook doesn’t move from her chair, but instead burrows her head in emmrich’s navel, and huffs small, agonizing cries, emmrich’s hold on her hair tightens as they grow louder

6) when faced between his life-long determination, or the reanimation of his first, his once only, companion, panic barely sheds light to emmrich’s body besides the white knuckling of his grip on the anatomy table, and rook to the left of him, her arms draped over him, secure and steady, ready to catch him should he fall

Tldr; don’t you DARE tell me they don’t have such an understanding for each other, their love is sooooo fucking pure besides the crazy sex they have

[baphometsss]

thinking about the different words for love in ancient greece and how the ancient elves seem to mirror that without having separate words in the language (that we know of). we know that the word 'lath' is love, that they named the centre of their empire after love. (according to legend, it was the romantic love of elgar'nan and mythal but honestly who the hell knows what their relationship was actually like.) but the regret where solas couldn't get mythal to leave the evanuris before she was killed is most revealing. this is the one the inquisitor gives to rook i.e. the first one if you haven't already found any, the one that they find at the ritual site after varric fails to convince solas to stop, as solas failed to win over mythal. it's the one where you can have the conversation where they debate what mythal meant by calling him 'love' and have that really cringey conversation

emmrich explains that they see the memories in their mother tongues, which means it translates differently to different people. (imo this is how you know they left it open to interpretation on purpose.) taash, as a qunari, immediately associates love with eros, because qunari aren't especially forthcoming with those kinds of emotions outside of romance. mythal's fragment even points this out if you're a qunari rook. she says (paraphrasing), your people don't bond like ours do, how could you know what it's like to love someone even as they stand against you?

but i personally think the love that mythal and solas shared was not eros but philia -- deep platonic love and devotion. it's the one type of love the ancient greeks valued above all others, above even family and romance. maybe there's also a bit of storge (parental/familial love, as mythal is referred to as his family in deleted dialogue w/lucanis and bellara, who have narrative parallels with mythal and solas), and a bit of agape (unconditional, self-sacrificing love) at least on solas's side.

so as for lavellan/solas... well, obviously, there's eros--sexual and romantic love. but i think, personally, that they share most of those different types of love rather than just that one. falling in love doesn't just bring out the best or the worst in you, but it brings out everything in you. solas has never been in love, according to the description of his romance, and that's why it catches him off-guard. it was a wildcard he couldn't predict. he himself says that it changed everything. everything we see in the romance suggests that the love they share is a mixture of all those different kinds of love:

eros--the romantic component, the sexual and passionate state of being in love with someone. their interactions are deeply romantic and passionate. they call each other 'vhenan'; this is an exclusively romantic term.

philia--deep friendship and devotion. they build a strong rapport on being seen as the people they are (solas, manifested wisdom/lavellan, dalish elf), not their mantles of fen'harel/dread wolf or herald of andraste/inquisitor. they are, before anything, friends.

ludus--noncommittal love/flirtation, casual sex--well, clearly it doesn't end up as being casual or noncommittal, but certainly they went through this as a stage. 'i have yet to see it [your will] dominated... i imagine such a sight would be... fascinating'

agape--unconditional, selfless love--lavellan clearly loves solas unconditionally. despite everything he's done and continues to do, they remain in love with him regardless of how badly those actions affect them and the wider world. it's the thing that gets them the most flack from fandom because it's seen as foolish. they even criticise themselves for it. and solas sacrifices his own desires, not just because he's so determined to follow through with his plan, but because he himself also can't bear to have lavellan see what he becomes. he 'can't do it to them'. he doesn't want them to suffer more than they already have at his hands. allowing them to follow him on the din'anshiral would've been far more selfish.

pragma--enduring love that grows stronger over time. well, lavellan is nothing if not enduring; their love will endure. that love has lasted a decade despite everything. solas, too, has not fallen out of love. even if you choose not to continue the romance in trespasser, he still wants to know if they feel the same about him after all that's passed. he haunts their dreams as a wolf, because he can't keep away entirely. he writes love letters and keeps mementos. their love has only become stronger, and now they live forever in the fade where it will grow and shape their world into something less 'terrible'.

philautia--self-love. they both do everything they can to make the other see their best qualities. it's hard to put this in the context of the relationship because it is self-love specifically, but i think lavellan's hope that solas will see himself as they see him, and that solas continually points out how they've changed him when they are romanced or high approval, is not a bad interpretation.

mania--i can definitely see how you could make their love obsessive. it is all consuming; neither can let go of it after a decade. this is the more unhealthy side of their relationship.

storge--familial love. i don't think they have this love towards each other per se, but i think they had this with the inquisition. in a way, the inner circle was the closest solas got to a real family that wasn't as fucked up as the evanuris. lavellan, especially if their clan was killed, also would've needed them like this. they were both a part of the larger picture here, and this is a part of their relationship too. it was the backdrop against which they fell in love; it enabled their love.

[thedinanshiral]

Inside you there are two wolves..

I recently made a tweet simply sharing a fraction of my thoughts on the Solavellan motif of wolf&halla. I decided to expand on it here.

I never adhered to the whole wolf/halla Solavellan thing. That dynamic is simply not for me, not with them. I think Solas is more likely to fall for an equal; even if Lavellan technically isn't, she's definitely the closest he's met in a thousand years. She's the white wolf [in his romanced tarot card] Adding to this, he respects her opinion and counsel, she inadvertently may help him make up his mind about what he'll do next (woops) aka giving him purpose, and she can also vow to save him from himself. She's both his guide and guardian. This is his romanced card for a reason.

I can understand why many people may like to frame Solavellan in the wolf&halla motif. He's an ancient elvhen, she's literally thousands of years younger than him. He's wise beyond her imagination and she knows by comparison basically nothing of their own history. He's the deciever and she's the deceived. The predator/prey dynamic is right there, at first.

Solas is a proud man, one may argue even arrogant, but he's also a serious man, focused, disciplined, he wouldn't fall for just anyone, he wouldn't open his heart to someone he may consider lesser even in the slightest. While he refused to acknowledge present elves as people and maybe thought of them as little else than a bad dream he had to wake up from at any cost, Lavellan earned his trust, his respect and admiration, through her actions, her own "indomitable focus", and by showing him the respect and admiration other Dalish denied him on sight. She gave him hope for the future of his people and that must have been priceless, she literally changed his whole world.

At that point there was no hunting, no preying, no seeing Lavellan as another chesspiece on the board, even if she couldn't be allowed to be anything else. She defied all his preconceptions and rendered him vulnerable. Their relationship is consensual, up to a certain point it ends when Lavellan says it ends, he doesn't pursue further if rejected. Actually, it's Lavellan who pursues him most of the time, why isn't Solas the halla here? He's the one being chased!

Lavellan is a wolf too, the white wolf.

The Exalted Plains has shrines to Fen'harel, one in particular is flanked by two wolf figures, one white and the other black. His dual nature is always present; in Dalish lore he's despised as the betrayer but also revered and his favour still sought after. As the Dreadwolf he was both friend and enemy to the people, depending on which side they were on. He's prideful but can also be crushingly selfless.

I really like this shrine because of these statues

The white and black wolves also appear in his tarot cards.

When he falls for Lavellan, he's locked in for good; even as he ends the relationship before even giving it a name, his card changes to his romanced one, and there's no going back. Lavellan can't undo it, he won't even though he's the one insisting their love can not be. But it is, and it is for life. Wolves mate for life. This immediately tells me Lavellan is also a wolf, and she's represented in his romanced card as the white one.

At the forefront, walking next to him, watching, guarding him. Colours are light, golden, the scene is calm, serene.

If he's never romanced then the other card of his give us a very different image:

His shadow becomes a giant black wolf that towers over him, right behind him, leaning forward almost as if about to engluf him, consume him. This is possibly a representation of his Dinan'shiral, and more clearly of his Dreadwolf aspect. He's set himself on a journey he can not stop and from which he can not return.

Interestingly enough there's an alternative version of this card that was discarded:

In it his head isn't covered by a hood, he carries no staff and there is no moon. The menacing wolf haunting him remains the same.

While the black wolf walks behind him, the white wolf walks beside him. He considers Lavellan his equal, even in all their differences. While the black wolf seems about to consume him, the white wolf is guarding him, staring at the viewer as if asying "Do not dare disturb his peace". He knows she'd do anything to protect him out of love even as he's decided to destroy himself out of love for his people (and tons upon tons of guilt).

Lavellan made him vulnerable in a way he had not foreseen and so he had no defenses against that love. I strongly believe only a romanced Lavellan can change his mind, at the very least make him doubt at the last moment. As much as he respects and appreciates a friend Inquisitor, it simply isnt' the same. Lavellan is to him a light so bright he had to force himself to look away lest he became blind and lost in it.

I remember people were puzzled at first, why if his romanced card is The Hierophant it had almost all elements of The Fool? There's two simple reasons i can think of. First of all, he's a fool in love. Falling in love with Lavellan is probably the stupidest thing he's done since he woke up, considering he's on a suicide mission to end her world. But that he did speaks of trust, opened up possibilities he hadn't imagined, Lavellan's innocence was contagious and powerful enough that he really had to struggle to turn away from her.

At the same time, the Hierophant is a teacher of tradition, which really had been his role all throughout Inquisition, and the last thing he does before cutting the romance was share more of that lost knowledge to Lavellan, the truth of the vallaslin.

Solas' romanced card is two cards combined referencing multiple aspects of their character and relationship, and we could also consider the Fool to be Lavellan, because the defining element in the card design that can make people wonder which card is it is the white wolf. She's the fool mortal that fell for a god, she's the Keeper who fell for Fen'harel, and she didn't know it until it was too late.

As for his final card, The Tower, it doesn't necessarily have to be so terrible. Much like Death, The Tower is about change. The end of the old to allow for the new, and changes can be positive or negative, they can be gentle or earth-shattering. In Solas' case we know he's aiming for the resurgence of the world he knew by destroying the one he inadvertently created when he put up the Veil, but this card may also symbolize the destruction of all his preconceptions and ideas, the realization that the world he knew was gone and another strange one he couldn't accept had taken its place, the symbolic death of a part of himself as he changed in his time with the Inquisition.

I imagine the white wolf represents his soul, in a way, the thing by which he may be redeemed. And that is Lavellan. No halla, but a wolf that's been tracking him for years, hunting him down to stop him because she and she alone has the power to do so. And he's been running away from her for as many years because he knows this even better than she does, he knows she's his last remaning weakness, the one that makes him vulnerable enough to break his resolve because in the end hers is stronger.

I really don't think he'd be capable of harming Lavellan, and if he does i feel it would drive him mad and cause him to lose whatever control he'd have left. He'd lose his light, his soul, his heart, leaving behind only the shadows. He chose to leave rather than take Lavellan out of the equation here and that tells me he can't bring himself to do it, it's too late now, he feels too much for her.

Now I'm extra curious and anxious to see what role the Inquisitor will play in The Veilguard, if they'll meet Solas again, what effect that would have on both of them.

And I hope neither tries to do something stupid..

[flowersbane]

⚠️ MAJOR spoilers below for the ending of Dragon Age: The Veilguard ⚠️

this is a fic i wrote after completing the game. intended for solavellan besties who want a little more solavellan content because the ending just wasn’t enough (nothing would’ve been enough i need that man carnally)

Epilogue

Solas 🤍 Lavellan

Solas wakes in the Fade after falling into a restful slumber following the fight with Elgar’nan and his archdemon.

Word Count: 721

Rating: T

Tags: Solas’s POV, Kind of a Fix-It Fic?, Unedited (too busy crying), Solavellan Heaven

AO3 Link ✔️

The first thing he perceived was birdsong. It reached him through the darkness of sleep and began pulling him from his slumber. As his senses returned to him, his surroundings became known. He was laying on a bed. Sunlight was warming his face. His movement was no longer accompanied by the heaviness of his armor, only the weight of his soreness. A soft groan sounded from his lips as he turned onto his side. Then, his memories hit him like a storm. The Inquisitor. The Veil. The Fade. Panic tore through him, making him alert and fully awake. Before he could act, however, the door to the room he was in swung open.

Lavellan, in the same clothes she had worn in Skyhold, entered. Sunlight illuminated her hair from behind, making her as radiant as she always appeared to be. When their eyes met, he wondered if the guilt would outweigh the grief or if it would be the other way around.

“I should not have allowed you to come with me.”

She stared at him, expression unreadable and gaze steady.

“I was spent from my battle with Elgar’nan’s archdemon, I was not thinking clearly, and you…” He hadn’t had the strength to fully recognize her presence. After spending so many years watching her through the Fade and through her dreams, a part of him could not believe that she was truly before him once again; that she had forgiven him. “It is not an excuse. I will find a way to return you to the world, where you will be able to live your life with the people you love.”

“Why?”

The question startled him. He froze in the process of rising from his bed. “Pardon?”

“Why would you do that? I did not ask you to, so why?”

He sank back into the mattress, brows drawing together. “Vhenan–”

“No! Don’t you vhenan me.” She lifted her chin in a show of defiance that made his memories swirl. Her face when they argued. The confidence with which she led the inquisition with. Her expression before every adversary she ever encountered and bested. “I made my decision to follow you, you do not get to take that from me. You do not get to decide what is best for me. Not anymore. The only reason I will leave is if you ask me to because you no longer love me.” There was an uncertainty in her gaze that he had not often seen. In truth, he had only ever caught glimpses of it after Crestwood. “Do you not love me?”

He rose from the bed. “I do.” The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could fully consider them. “I have only ever loved you, but it is selfish of me to keep you here when I know there are many who love you beyond this place.”

“You still don’t get it. You are not keeping me here. I want to be here, I want to be with you.” The look on her face threatened every thread of his pride’s will. “I love you, Solas.”

His hands moved on their own, palm pressing against the side of her face. “I love you too, vhenan.” He moved his hand to the back of her neck and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. Her closeness was the warmth of the sun after a long winter. She was the return home after a long war. Comforts he did not deserve. “But what of your friends? Your family? Your clan?”

“You are my heart. Do you expect me to live without my heart?”

The threads came undone. He pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that felt immortal. It was every kiss they had ever shared and every kiss they would share from then on. He wrapped his arms around her and closed the distance between their bodies. They could not be close enough. When they finally pulled away from one another, he could not stop himself from kissing her again, shorter this time but laced with all the longing he had caged during the years they had been apart. “I love you. Forgive me, vhenan, I love you.”

She placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I love you too.” She planted another closer to his cheek. “Solas.”

[vir-tanadahl]

The Wolf's Return to Wisdom

Summary: A continuous of The Burden of the Dread Wolf and The Wolf's Atonement. After DATV, Solas and Lavellan journey through the Fade, where Solas confronts his regrets and past mistakes. With Lavellan's unwavering support, he begins to unravel his guilt and shame. Through painful revelations and tender moments, Solas finds hope for redemption in her love and forgiveness, and together they move forward with renewed purpose and connection. Read on Ao3!

The third installment of a (probably) three part series.

The Burden of the Dread Wolf

A Wolf's Atonement

Note: OKAY IT STARTS SAD BUT IT GETS BETTER AT THE END I PROMISE, TRUST ME. NSFW.

Together, Solas and Lavellan step into his path of atonement, moving through the shadowed fog and echoing whispers that haunt this prison of regret. Lavellan glances up at him, sensing his apprehension as they journey deeper into the darkness. Without a word, she reaches for his hand, interlocking her fingers with his.

For a moment, his usually stoic expression betrays a flicker of unease, a vulnerability she isn’t accustomed to seeing. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze but keeps his gaze fixed forward, lost in the weight of his thoughts. In response, she lifts his hand to her lips and presses a gentle kiss onto his knuckles. Their hands then fall back to their sides, but this small gesture brings him comfort and reminds him that he has someone by his side on this journey

“Tela’nadas. Mala suledin vir sulahn’nehn,” Lavellan murmurs softly, her voice a gentle warmth as she gazes up at him, her eyes filled with quiet strength and resolve. Nothing lasts forever. Your long endurance now leads to joy.

Solas takes a deep breath to steady himself before turning towards her. He raises his hand and carefully strokes her cheek with his thumb. She leans into his touch, briefly closing her eyes as if relishing the moment. He looks down at her, his gaze tender and determined, as if he wants to remember every aspect of her face. A faint smile appears on his lips, a rare sight from the man beneath the weight of his responsibilities, only seen when she is near him. He takes a deep breath before leaning in to brush his lips gently against her forehead. They stay there for a moment, sharing a tender and intimate connection before separating. Without exchanging any words, they resume walking together, their hands still intertwined.

The surroundings are void of life and desolate, a dull and empty landscape of darkness and shattered recollections. As they move ahead, the scenery distorts and morphs, transforming with every footstep until a different setting appears - one that highlights Solas's regrets. Varric.

As they continue on, the atmosphere becomes heavy with echoes of Solas's regret, each one spoken in Varric's tone. The emptiness around them is filled with a sense of blame and accusation.

“After all this time, all those speeches about finding balance and purpose. And yet, you stand here blinded by your own self-righteousness,” one voice echoes bitterly. A second voice follows, sharp and relentless. “Look around you, Solas. Look at the consequences of your actions. How many more must suffer for your regrets?” A third voice chimes in, its tone colder and more cutting. “You claim to be wise, but what have we truly gained from your so-called wisdom? Was all that suffering worth it?”

Lavellan reaches over and places her hand on Solas's arm, a gentle anchor amidst the onslaught of voices pressing in on him without mercy.

“You can’t hide behind duty, Solas. Every tyrant has a reason. What’s yours?”

She feels him tense at the word tyrant, the accusation striking him like a blow. The voices swirl around them, the relentless litany of his own self-doubt and guilt laid bare, but Lavellan’s steady touch remains, grounding him, reminding him that he doesn’t face this alone.

They arrive at a stone likeness of Varric, standing silent and unyielding amid the desolation. Solas stops before it, his gaze tracing every line and detail, as if each one carried the weight of memories. Slowly, he lowers his head, his shoulders heavy with remorse.

The voice echoes one final, cutting jab, reverberating through the air like a cruel reminder: “You think you’re a martyr, bearing this burden alone. But you didn’t have to be alone. That was your choice.” The words linger, striking deep, reminding him of the isolation he chose—and the connections he severed along the way.

Solas takes a deep, steadying breath, his voice thick with the weight of his justification. “I sacrificed our friendship for a greater cause, one beyond anything any of you could understand. It was a burden I chose to carry alone.”

From the statue, Varric’s voice replies, dripping with sarcasm. “Great story, Solas. I can already picture the book title: The Dread Wolf and His Noble Sacrifice.” The tone sharpens, biting. “Want me to write the happy ending where you save the world all by yourself, too?”

Solas takes a sharp breath and a pained expression emerges on his features. The words strike him like a knife, piercing through his determination to stay strong. Each word serves as a reminder of the sacrifices he made for his cause and the loneliness he willingly accepted. He feels the familiar urge to defend his choices, but he forces it down--there is no justification left, not even in the righteousness of his intentions.

Lavellan gently pulls on Solas, guiding him away from the haunting accusations. She knows that this distorted version of Varric is just a manifestation of Solas's own guilty conscience and doubt. "Solas," she speaks softly, "Varric spent a decade searching for you, not to judge or condemn you, but because he believed there was something worth finding."

He stays silent, staring down at the ground. She reaches up and turns his face towards her, determined not to let him hide in his guilt. "You know Varric better than that," she says with a steady and kind voice. "He always believed in people's ability to change, that their past didn't have to determine their future. Do you really think he would condemn you without giving you a chance to make things right?"

Her words cut through the fog of his regret, grounding him, reminding him of the man Varric truly was and the belief he once had in him, but the doubt still lingers. “This manifestation of Varric is right to condemn me, vhenan,” he tells her.

With her hand softly resting on his cheek, Lavellan gazes up at Solas. His eyes are filled with guilt and sorrow, desperately seeking a sense of stability in her unwavering gaze. As he fights to keep himself composed, Varric's voice cuts through the fog once again.

"Friendships are messy, Chuckles. People fight, disagree, get hurt—but they don’t just write each other off. I didn’t search for you just to give up on you.”

Solas's eyes well up with tears, and he inhales deeply, his gaze never leaving Lavellan's. She is the only anchor keeping him from being consumed by his overwhelming regret. Varric's voice chimes in once more, gentle but still dripping with his trademark humor. "You may believe that redemption is beyond your grasp, but perhaps it's time you take a lesson from your 'less wise' companions." Solas lets out a breath, a mix of amusement and surprise, as if Varric's words have struck a chord within him.

“So here’s the truth, Chuckles: even if you hurt us, I never stopped hoping you’d come back. Stop dragging yourself through the mud. If there’s any chance for you to make things right, don’t waste it. You owe it to yourself—and to all of us.”

In the ensuing silence, the weight of Varric's words echoes in Solas's mind, exposing his vulnerability. Eventually, Varric's voice changes focus and turns to address Lavellan. “If anyone can help him see a way out of this mess, it’s you,” the voice says gently. “I may not know what the future holds, but with you by his side… he might just make it.”

Lavellan’s hand rests steady against his cheek, her touch anchoring him to the present, reminding him that even amid his mistakes, hope endures—and with it, the possibility of redemption. She watches as a new resolve forms in his eyes, a glint of determination cutting through the sorrow. His gaze is glossy, emotions brimming just beneath the surface.

Without saying a single word, he pulls her in close, his arms enveloping her body in a comforting embrace. His chin rests gently on top of her head, as if seeking solace from her presence. His voice is soft and earnest as he speaks. "I may not be worthy of your forgiveness...but please believe me when I say that I deeply regret the hurt I caused you, Varric. I am truly sorry."

The words hang in the air, soft yet powerful, carrying the weight of his remorse. And in Lavellan’s embrace, he finds a flicker of peace—a fragile, yet undeniable step toward healing. "Don't go getting all sentimental on me, Chuckles. You're starting to sound like one of those tragic heroes from my books," Varric's voice breaks in. "But... apology accepted, for what it's worth," he responds.

Solas chokes back a sound that’s both a chuckle and a sob, tightening his hold on Lavellan as though she’s the only steady point in a turbulent sea. She wraps her arms around him, her hand moving in gentle, soothing circles along his back, grounding him with her quiet strength.

A surge of raw magic erupts from the statue of Varric, pulsing through the air and causing the surrounding atmosphere to shift. It is as if a spell has shattered, releasing something powerful and long-contained. The once-oppressive weight that hung in the air dissipates, leaving behind a sense of clarity and lightness. A feeling of freedom washes over them, granting a brief respite from the heavy burden they have carried for what feels like an eternity. It is a moment of relief, however fleeting it may be.

The weight of Varric's words hangs in the air, causing Solas to visibly tremble. He stands in silence, his breaths coming in unsteady gasps as he hunches under the heavy burden of guilt. He finds some solace in holding her close. Gradually, he regains control over himself, his breathing calming and steadying out.

His words are barely audible, filled with a deep sense of regret and shame. "I have left lasting wounds on all those who have stood by me, vhenan,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with raw regret and shame. “Knowing what I did to Varric… how can you see anything but a man consumed by his own failings?”

She continues to hold him close, her hand moving gently across his back in a reassuring rhythm. “Do you really think I would have followed you into the Fade if all I saw was your failures?” Her voice is soft and kind, yet there’s a firmness beneath it. “You believe you’re defined by those failings, but you’re wrong. What defines you now are the choices you make moving forward.”

She pulls away, meeting his gaze with a steady and unwavering look. “And I see someone who still has the courage to change,” she says. Solas gazes down at her, a gentle shake of his head betraying the doubt lingering in his heart. “I don’t know if I deserve such forgiveness,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Lavellan's smile is tinged with sadness, but it also radiates understanding. "It's not up to you to determine if you deserve forgiveness," she says gently, her gaze steady and unwavering. "That power lies with those who are willing to forgive." A loud sigh escapes his lips. "You are right," he admits, defeat evident in his tone. She lets out a soft giggle and traces her fingers along his jawline. "I am well aware," she responds with a playful smile.

Her words, so full of compassion and forgiveness, unravel something deep within him. For a long, breathless moment, Solas simply looks at her, as if searching for any hint of doubt in her expression. But all he finds is warmth, understanding, and a love so unwavering that it takes his breath away.

He is unable to resist the pull between them as he leans forward, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes slipping shut as he allows himself to feel her presence fully. Her hands slide to rest on his shoulders, anchoring him, and he lets out a shuddering breath, the closeness between them a rare solace he never thought he’d have again.

Slowly, as if still uncertain that he has the right to take comfort in her, he brings his hands up to rest lightly at her waist, drawing her closer. Their breaths mingle, and there’s a moment of hesitation, a shared silence heavy with everything left unsaid. Then, closing the final distance, he presses his lips to hers in a kiss that begins softly, tentatively, as if he’s afraid to shatter the fragile connection between them.

Her lips are warm and enticing, and he revels in the softness of her skin beneath his touch. She embraces him tightly, bringing him closer to her. The kiss intensifies, a delicate dance of tongues and lips, a mutual release of built-up tension and desire. With each caress, every gentle press of their mouths, their love is reaffirmed - a bond that has not wavered despite time, distance, and previous betrayal. Solas's hand gently cradles her face, his touch filled with reverence as if she is the only thing keeping him grounded in this vast and dim world. He is consumed by the sensation, his senses completely overwhelmed by the taste and scent of her.

He pulls away gently, his expression softening as he gazes down at her with a mixture of wonder and longing. His fingers glide along her arm before entwining with hers. "Come," he whispers, his voice gentle yet determined, as he takes the lead and guides them towards the next regret he must confront.

As they continue their journey through the prison of regret, Lavellan can feel a faint glimmer of hope growing inside of him. It is fragile and uncertain, yet it cannot be ignored. However, with each passing step, the air becomes heavy and oppressive, weighing down on them both. This new regret brings with it a profound sense of sorrow, a pain that goes beyond just Solas and seeps into Lavellan's own heart, resonating with an ache that feels almost unbearable.

The landscape shifts again, twisting into a familiar scenes—and then she sees it. Herself. A statue stands before them, capturing the night he revealed the truth about the vallaslin. She’s frozen in that moment, her expression a mixture of vulnerability and betrayal, her heart laid bare as he shattered it when he ended their relationship. But this is not the only statue here.

There is another statue before them, captured in the moments after they defeated Corypheus. She’s posed with her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, as if trying to hold herself together, the faint glow of the anchor illuminating her hand. Lavellan’s chest tightens as she remembers that day vividly: the relief mingled with grief, the emptiness that followed when Leliana approached her to say that Solas had… simply vanished, without a word.

And next to that statue is another. This one shows her kneeling, her hand outstretched, frozen in the moment he took the anchor from her—the moment he held her hand, his fingers intertwined with hers as he absorbed her pain. The anchor is depicted mid-dissolution, its glow fading as he bore its burden.

Lavellan inhales sharply, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she takes in the sight. The memories, the loss, and the tenderness of that final touch rush back to her, stirring emotions she thought she had long buried.

Solas stands rooted in place, his gaze fixed on the three statues before him, each one a haunting reflection of his past choices. Hesitation and dread flicker across his face, but he remains still as the manifestations around them begin to call out, voices laden with pain and betrayal.

“You showed me a truth I never asked for, then left me with nothing but questions. Did you even care what it would do to me?” echoes the voice from Crestwood, sharp and wounded. Another voice follows, from the night they defeated Corypheus, its tone hollow with abandonment. “I trusted you, believed what we had was real. But you vanished, and all that remained was emptiness. Why did you leave me?” A third voice, this one raw with anguish, rings out from the Exalted Council. “Fen’Harel. All this time, I loved Fen’Harel, and you never told me. You let me bear the Anchor as it tore me apart—how could you hide such a thing?”

The Crestwood manifestation speaks again, the accusation piercing through the air. “You told me of my people’s past, wiped away the vallaslin, and then left as if that was all you had to give. Did I mean nothing to you?”

“You made me believe I mattered,” the Corypheus manifestation cries out, “but when the time came, you disappeared. Why, Solas?”

The third voice echoes immediately after, fierce with betrayal. “Did you ever see me as an equal, or was I just another piece on your board, someone to be used and discarded?”

Lavellan stares up at Solas in shock as the cacophony of regret, accusations, and wounded love fills the space, each word cutting deeper. The relentless chorus surrounds him, pressing down on his shoulders, leaving him bare before the weight of his choices.

The first manifestation cries out, its voice raw with betrayal, “Was I just too small for your grand vision? Too naïve to understand the truth you carried? You stripped away the vallaslin, the last piece of myself I thought I understood—and then you left me with nothing.” The second manifestation’s voice rises, laced with sorrow and frustration. “If you were going to leave, why couldn’t you just say it? Just a goodbye—I would have let you go if you’d given me that much.” The third manifestation follows, its tone sharp with disbelief. “I thought I knew you, but you were always someone else. How can you ask for forgiveness, knowing how you deceived me?”

Solas’s legs weaken under the weight of their accusations, and he falls to his knees, the crushing regret and guilt pressing down on him, stripping away any defense he might have once held. ears spill down his face as he listens, helpless, to the echoes of pain from the voices of the woman he calls his heart.

Instinctively, Lavellan reaches for him, her hands moving to pull him up from the ground. But he raises a trembling hand, halting her. “I must do this,” he says, his voice barely steady, breaking with emotion.

Lavellan nods silently, hands clasped tightly over her heart, resisting the urge to shield him from this suffering—from the pain he’s caused, and from her own pain. She steps back, letting him bear this moment alone, knowing that this is a part of the path he must walk if he is ever to heal.

He bows his head, his hands resting on his bent knees as he takes a few steadying breaths, bracing himself for the confessions he has long avoided. With each breath, he prepares to face the pain he has caused, and he begins, addressing the first manifestation from Crestwood.

“That night in Crestwood, when I shared the truth about your vallaslin…” He falters, the words catching in his throat. “You don’t know how close I came to breaking, to simply letting go of my plans. I could have told you everything—or even set it all aside, stayed with you as Solas, as I truly wanted.” His voice hitches, and he struggles to contain the tears that continue to fall. “I regret the pain I caused you… for what I left you to carry alone.”

He pauses, gathering his thoughts, then turns to the next manifestation, the one from the night of Corypheus’s defeat. “I disappeared because I thought my path would only bring you more suffering. I thought leaving quietly was an act of kindness, sparing you from more pain—but I see now it was a cruelty all its own.” He swallows, his voice weighted with sorrow. “I left you with unanswered questions and wounds that deepened in my absence. For that, I am so deeply sorry.”

Another pause, another breath. He addresses the final manifestation, the one formed from the Exalted Council. “You knew me as Solas, but I am—” He falters, correcting himself. “I was… also Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf. I kept that truth from you, fearing you would hate me, fearing it would shatter us. But in hiding it, I only caused a deeper wound.”

He takes a shuddering inhale, his voice softened with remorse as he finishes. “I made choices that left you with nothing but betrayal and heartbreak. If I could undo them, I would, but all I can offer now is my deepest apology, for all the pain I caused and the trust I shattered.” He bows his head, the confessions spilling from him like a release, yet leaving behind a silence heavy with unspoken hopes.

Lavellan’s hands fly to her mouth as tears stream down her face, her shoulders shaking as years of unspoken pain rise to the surface. Solas rises slowly, his head still bowed, shadows of shame and regret etched into his posture. Turning to face her, he speaks softly, his voice laden with remorse.

“Vhenan,” he begins, his own voice faltering as he sees her tears. “I left you with questions, with doubts and pain that should never have been yours to carry. I turned away, thinking I could protect you. But in trying to shield you, I only left you wounded. I am… so deeply sorry.”

He pauses, searching for words to ease the weight of his confession, though he knows no words may ever be enough. “I thought that by leaving, you would find peace. I thought it was the only way. But I underestimated the strength of your love, and I see now that my choice only deepened your suffering.” A quiet sob escapes her, the pain she has carried alone finally acknowledged and given voice. Solas steps closer, his gaze finally meeting hers, raw and unguarded. “Every moment, I have carried your memory with me,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “You have given me far more than I ever deserved.”

Lavellan’s tears flow freely now, each word healing to wounds that had festered for too long. His confession, his presence, are a release—an unspoken promise that perhaps healing may yet be possible, even after all the years of heartache.

The echoes of the first manifestation call out from behind him, “What happened between us in Crestwood is no longer a wound for me. You helped me grow, Solas, and I have let go of the pain. I wish you could, too.” The second manifestation calls out, “I know you still feel the guilt of leaving without a word, but I want you to know I’ve forgiven you. I hope you can let go of that guilt, too.” The third manifestation follows, “You may have feared my reaction, but you didn’t have to hide from me. I love you for all that you are, and I forgive you. Let our love be enough to bridge the truth.”

Solas closes his eyes for a moment as the what the manifestations said echoes in his mind and body. He opens them again, standing a little straighter. “There are countless choices I regret, but meeting you, sharing those moments together—that is something I will never regret.” He pauses, his voice softening, “and I look forward to the moments still to come.

Lavellan wipes at the tears streaming down her face, her breaths shaky as she steps forward and wraps her arms around Solas, holding him close. “You are more than your mistakes, Solas,” she whispers, her voice soft but steady as she fights to keep it from breaking. “I see the good in you, I know your heart. Let yourself be free of that burden vhenan.” She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, her own filled with compassion and unwavering resolve. “I forgive you,” she says, her voice trembling. “And I want you to forgive yourself. Your path doesn’t have to be one of endless atonement. There is happiness waiting for you, if you’ll only allow yourself to reach for it.”

She pauses, her fingers lightly brushing his cheek, grounding them both in the moment. “I’ll be there to support you,” she finishes, her voice gentle yet firm, a promise woven into each word.

Solas shakes his head slowly, a look of quiet disbelief in his eyes. He can hardly comprehend the depth of her compassion, her unwavering kindness, and the forgiveness she extends to him despite everything. It’s a grace he isn’t sure he will ever truly understand.

He isn’t sure he will ever feel truly worthy of her forgiveness, despite the ease and grace with which she offers it. All he can do now is continue down this path of atonement and prove to her—and to himself—that he can grow, that he can become the man worthy of her faith in him.

Solas gently takes her hand from where it rests against his cheek, wrapping his fingers around hers. He brings her palm to his lips, pressing a tender, lingering kiss into it, as if sealing a silent promise.

Solas leans down, capturing her lips in a more intense and urgent kiss than before. There is a quiet desperation in his movements that she can feel, as if he needs her with every fiber of his being. His tongue explores her mouth, conveying the hunger he has for her. She shivers at the intensity of his desire. His hands grip her waist, pulling her even closer as he continues to deepen the kiss, his lips eagerly taking hers

His fingertips glide against her flesh, eliciting shivers that run down her back as they trace the curves of her body. His touch is delicate, like a whisper in the night, yet his gaze burns with an untamed hunger. Their tongues intertwine in a sensual rhythm, conveying their intense longing and yearning. He caresses the line of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair as he intensifies the kiss. She can sense his heart racing against hers, his chest rising and falling with unbridled desire.

As each regret is faced and acknowledged, whether forgiven or not, it feels like a part of the Solas she remembers starts to resurface. The weight of the Dread Wolf, a burden he has carried alone for centuries, begins to crack and crumble, piece by piece, allowing the true man underneath to gradually come back to the surface.

Lavellan leans back slightly, her eyes remaining fixed on his as they both struggle to catch their breath. Her gaze holds a deep love for him, a sense of belonging that goes beyond words, and a spark of hope that she seems to reserve just for him. In turn, his own eyes reflect a profound love, an unbreakable bond, and an overwhelming sense of thankfulness towards her. He looks at her in disbelief, amazed that even in his darkest moments she never lost faith in him - a faith he often struggled to hold onto himself.

Solas longs to pause here, to savor this moment a little longer, but he knows there is still one final regret he must confront before they can truly rest, even if only briefly, before continuing on his journey of atonement.

“Let’s go,” Lavellan urges softly, a smile lighting her face, her eyes still filled with longing. He holds her gaze for a moment longer, letting himself fully take in her presence, her warmth, her unwavering support. Finally, he nods, a quiet resolve settling over him as he steels himself to face what lies ahead.

Four pulses of energy ripple through the air, each one a testament to Solas not only taking responsibility for his choices but fully accepting them rather than hiding from them. As the energy dissipates, the oppressive weight around them lifts, leaving the air feeling lighter, clearer. The glimmer of hope within him grows, strengthening with each beat, as he realizes he may truly have the strength to confront his regrets—one by one.

The next regret is different, larger and more imposing, looming over them like an ancient shadow. Unlike the previous regrets, it does not manifest as a stone statue or a single figure. This regret embodies something far greater—a collective sorrow, the weight of a choice that altered the fate of an entire people.

The manifestation takes form as a spectral, crumbling vision of ancient Arlathan—the heart of the Elvhen empire. Its once-grand spires stand fractured and fading, shrouded in mist, surrounded by faint echoes of what once was: faint laughter, distant voices, and the flickering silhouettes of elvhen figures moving through the shadows. The very air seems heavy with loss, the grandeur of Arlathan reduced to a hollow memory.

This is one of Solas’s deepest regret: the harm inflicted on the elvhen people when he created the Veil, intending to protect them. His well-meaning act had catastrophic consequences that he could not foresee. The Veil severed most beings’ connection to the Fade, robbing most of them of their magic and immortality. The elvhen people began to age, places like the Vir Dirthara—their great repository of knowledge—collapsed, wiping out wisdom, killing many, and leaving spirits wounded and lost.

The echoes rise around them, voices filled with sorrow and accusation.

“We were a people of magic, connected to the Fade, woven into the very fabric of life,” one voice laments, its tone laced with bitterness. “You took that from us. Look at what we have become—mere shadows of our former selves.” Another echo joins, its voice steeped in betrayal. “We trusted you, Dread Wolf, to protect us. Instead, you left us with nothing but fading memories and a world that forgot our names.” A third voice cuts through the air, sharp with anger and grief. “You think you saved them? Look at what you have wrought—a scattered people, broken and lost, bound by chains you once swore to break.”

The words hang heavy in the air, each one a reminder of the unintended devastation his choice brought upon his people.

Everywhere he looks, Solas sees remnants of the world he unintentionally fractured: ruins of elvhen culture, shattered bonds with the Fade, and memories of lives broken by his hand. The enormity of this regret stretches before him, echoing the price of his actions in every corner of the landscape.

Solas releases a heavy sigh, his head bowing in shame as the weight of his choices settles over him. Quietly, Lavellan steps up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself gently against his back. Her embrace is steady and grounding, offering silent comfort as he stands before the haunting remnants of his choices.

The air fills with haunting echoes, the voices of the elvhen people reverberating through the ruins. Some call out in desperation, pleading for the return of their lost magic, others casting blame on Dread Wolf, their voices sharp with betrayal and suffering. The cries of spirits resonate in the distance, filled with despair, their words tangled in ancient, forgotten elvhen language.

Faint memories of children’s laughter twist and distort, transforming into cries of isolation and fear, filling the space with a chilling sense of loss. Each voice, each plea, is a reminder of what has been sacrificed, the legacy of a shattered world longing for what it once was.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, his gaze distant as he begins to speak. “In my desperation to save Elvhenan, to seek justice, I acted without fully understanding the depths of what would be lost.” His voice is low, heavy with sorrow and self-reflection. “I see now that my choice did not free us—it bound my people in ways I could never have imagined.”

The weight of his words lingers, each syllable filled with humility and a deep, aching regret, as if he’s only now grasping the full measure of his actions.

His regret reveals a harsh truth: in his fervent pursuit to restore the Elvhen people’s bond with the Fade, he risks repeating the very mistake he made centuries ago—acting without full understanding and potentially bringing irreversible harm to Thedas and its people. The weight of this realization settles over him, a reminder that even with the best intentions, his choices could lead to unintended destruction once more.

The echoes of his regret fall silent, leaving a stillness that hangs heavy in the air. Solas stands motionless, absorbing the revelation that he had been on the verge of repeating the very same mistake. The weight of it settles over him, forcing him to confront the depth of his choices—and the narrow line between his intentions and their unintended consequences.

Behind him, he feels Lavellan’s arms tighten around him, her warmth grounding him in the present. Her voice is gentle yet steady, a quiet reassurance. “Yes, your choices brought pain, but you also did what no one else could. You protected us from a greater darkness, Solas,” she murmurs. “You still have the power to choose—to protect, to create, to heal.” Her words hold a soft strength, reminding him that even now, he holds the potential to mend what was broken.

The vision shifts once more, unveiling a future where the Elvhen people, driven by hope and resilience, strive to reclaim their magic and restore their lost history. Solas watches as they walk freely, renewed with purpose, within the world he had unwittingly reshaped—a world that, despite its scars, now holds the promise of their rebirth. The echoes of their past blend with a vision of their future, a possibility he had scarcely dared to imagine.

Instead of a cacophony of echoing regret, the voices speak in a solemn, unified chorus. “Perhaps your pride blinded you to the truth: some things cannot be restored, and some wounds lie beyond even your power to heal.”

The voices soften, carrying a bittersweet wisdom. “What was lost is mourned, yet what remains has its own beauty.” They continue, their tone shifting to one of gentle admonition. “You wish to restore your people to what they once were, yet their strength now lies in their ability to adapt, to endure.” A pause lingers, filled with the weight of truth. “Pride would demand they return to an old legacy, but wisdom would honor who they have become.”

Solas wrestles with the proclamation of the manifestations, the weight of their words pressing heavily upon him. Yet, deep down, he cannot deny the truth in their voices—a truth both humbling and undeniable.

“Perhaps true atonement lies not in restoring what was lost, but in honoring what has grown from its ashes,” Solas murmurs, almost to himself, before gently guiding Lavellan to stand before him. His fingers rest beneath her chin, softly tilting her face toward his.

“My pride drove me to reclaim the past,” he says, his voice steady yet touched with humility. “But wisdom… wisdom shows me that true strength lies in embracing the world as it is.”

She smiles up at him, her expression warm and knowing, as though she had always sensed he would one day remember his true purpose—and reclaim it. “Atonement isn’t always about changing the world, but finding peace with how it has changed,” she whispers, leaning up on the balls of her feet bringing her face closer to his. In his eyes, a quiet contemplation mingles with desire. “Ah, the wisdom to accept what I cannot change…” he murmurs, his voice both soft and weighted with newfound humility. “One would think, after all these centuries, I might have learned that lesson.”

Lavellan laughs softly, a gentle, affectionate sound. “I’d say you’ve learned plenty,” she teases, her voice warm. “But I’m always happy to help you…” Her voice trails off for a moment, a playful glint in her eyes. “Refine that wisdom.” Her hands slide to his hips, pulling him just a little closer. Solas’s eyebrows lift slightly, catching the suggestiveness in her tone. “You make a very compelling case,” he murmurs, his voice low and rich with desire. “Perhaps I’ve been neglecting certain… areas of study.”

The air between them crackles with intensity, charged with a desire that has lingered unspoken, now impossible to ignore.

Lavellan raises her brow, feigning a look of shock. “Neglecting certain studies? Well, we can’t have that,” she teases, her face still close to his, her lips just a breath away. Tilting her head ever so slightly, she adds, voice soft and inviting, “When would you like to begin?”

He inhales sharply, his eyes darkening with unrestrained desire. “Now,” he breathes, before his lips capture hers in a fierce, consuming kiss. She opens her mouth, beckoning him in.

His mouth presses against hers, his tongue explored her mouth with a primal intensity, causing her to ache with desire. He pulled her in closer, his arms strong and secure around her waist as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against hers. The anticipation between them was almost tangible, the air heavy with their mutual longing. With each touch of his lips, she feels herself getting lost in the moment and giving in to his insatiable hunger for her

As they kiss, her fingers trace the intricate design of his leather armor, struggling to find and release the clasp. Solas pulls away slightly, his gaze locked on hers with a fierce intensity. She can feel his chest rise and fall rapidly with each ragged breath, his body tense with anticipation. After a few fumbled attempts, Solas takes her hands in his and guides her deftly to the clasp, their fingers intertwining as they work together to undo it.

Lost in each other, they remain oblivious to the pulse of energy rippling through the air as the manifestation of regret fades, dissolving into the surrounding Fade. The environment around them begins to shift, the oppressive weight of the prison softening into something calmer, imbued with a quiet sense of hope. It’s as if the Fade itself acknowledges the first steps of Solas’s atonement, offering a brief reprieve from the darkness.

The landscape settles into a gentler, more tranquil scene, a silent reminder that while the journey toward redemption may be arduous, there will be moments of peace along the way—moments where the burden will feel a little lighter.

With the last clasp finally undone, Solas hungrily captures her mouth once more. Their tongues entwine, a fiery passion consuming them both. As their kiss deepens, Lavellan's fingertips dance along his chest, tracing the defined muscles beneath his skin. She scrapes her nails lightly against him, eliciting a low groan from Solas as she removes the top portion of his armor. The leather creaks softly as it falls away, revealing his bare torso and sending shivers down his spine.

Their lips danced together in a passionate rhythm, each movement mirroring the other's. His fingers trailed lightly over her skin, tracing the seam of her shirt and gently caressing the curve of her breast. A shiver of pleasure ran through her body as he expertly unbuttoned her top, revealing more of her bare skin to his touch.

Lavellan lets out a soft moan as his fingers work to undo the last button on her top, their warmth causing shivers to run down her spine. Her body responds eagerly to his touch, surrendering to the sparks of desire that ignite within her. He pulls away from her lips and locks eyes with her, his intense gaze filled with fire and passion.

Solas gazes into Lavellan's eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or reluctance. As his intense gaze meets hers, Lavellan can feel her breath catch in her throat. She sees a raw emotion in his eyes - not just desire, but also a vulnerability that tugs at her heartstrings. In response, she reaches up and gently cups his face in her hands, stroking his cheek with her thumb as she nods, giving him the confirmation he seeks.

With a low growl, Solas captures her lips once more, his kiss deep and hungry. His hands slide beneath her open shirt, pushing it off her shoulders. The fabric whispers as it falls to the floor, leaving her bare from the waist up.

Lavellan arches into him, every inch of her skin tingling at the contact. The anticipation that had been building for ten long years now finally fulfilled in this moment. She savors the feeling of his bare chest against hers, reveling in the heat and electricity that courses through her veins. A decade of desire and longing, now unleashed in a frenzy of passion between them. Solas pulls her close, his arms encircling her as the Fade begins to shift once more. The shadows melt away, giving shape to a room materializing around them, walls forming gently as if crafted from memory itself. The space feels intimate and warm, a quiet sanctuary emerging from the vastness of the Fade, sheltering them in its embrace.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her backwards onto the plush mattress that appeared out of thin air.

Lavellan's breath catches as she sinks into the soft mattress, her eyes never leaving Solas'. His gaze is intense, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths - desire, longing, and a hint of something deeper, more primal. He follows her down, his body hovering over hers, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from his skin.

"Vhenan," he whispers, the endearment falling from his lips like a prayer.

As she lies in bed, her breath catches in her throat. Solas swiftly removes her boots with a gentle touch, his skilled hands gliding over the laces and buckles. He then moves on to her pants, slowly unbuttoning them and sliding them off her legs with a steady grip. As he looks at her naked form, his eyes roam over every inch of her body with an intense desire that sends shivers down her spine. His hunger for her is palpable, making her skin flush with excitement and anticipation.

The intensity in his eyes is palpable as he kneels between her legs, gazing at her with desire. "You are beautiful…" he whispers, his voice laced with genuine admiration. He pulls her closer to the edge of the bed, anticipation building in both of them. His hot breath caresses her clit, sending electric tingles down her spine. She arches her back and moans softly, unable to contain the desire coursing through her. "Solas," she whispers, desperate for more of his touch.

Solas smirks, enjoying her eagerness. He softly kisses her inner thigh, then another slightly higher. "Patience, vhenan," he murmurs against her skin. Lavellan's fingers clutch at the bedsheets as Solas continues his teasing. His lips and tongue trace tantalizing patterns, moving ever closer to where she needs him most. When he finally flicks his tongue across her clit, she gasps sharply followed by a moan.

Solas hums with approval, the vibration intensifying the sensation. He explores her folds with reverent attention, savoring her taste and the little sounds of pleasure she makes. His hands grip her thighs, holding her steady as he works.

Lavellan's head falls back against the pillows, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. His hot breath washes over her as his skilled tongue flicks and swirls against her throbbing clit. She gasps and arches her back when he adds two fingers inside of her, slowly pumping and curling them to hit just the right spot.

Lavellan's body trembles under Solas's expert ministrations. His fingers move in perfect rhythm with his tongue, building her pleasure higher and higher. She feels herself approaching the edge, her breaths coming in short gasps. With a soft, breathless moan, she calls out to him, "Solas... please..." Slowly, she lifts her head to meet his gaze. His eyes, a deep and mesmerizing shade of violet, are fixed on her with intensity. Every emotion and desire seems to swirl within them, drawing her in deeper.

He responds by increasing his pace, his fingers curling inside her as his tongue circles her clit with renewed vigor. The dual sensations overwhelm her, and with a cry of ecstasy, Lavellan tumbles over the edge. Waves of pleasure crash over her as Solas works her through her climax, drawing out every last tremor. As she comes down from her high, Solas places soft kisses along her inner thighs, slowly working his way up her body. His lips brush against her stomach, between her breasts,

His arousal was evident, straining against the fabric of his pants. With a cocky smirk, he pulled away from her and made his way to the edge of the bed, sitting down to remove his boots.

Lavellan followed closely behind, pressing her naked body against his bare back. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin as she trailed kisses down his neck, eventually finding her way to his ear. When she grazed her tongue along the edge of his ear, he couldn't contain the moan that escaped his lips from the delicious sensation.

When Solas removes his boots, Lavellan moves like a serpent around him and pulls him up onto his feet. Her soft lips eagerly find his and her delicate fingers begin to loosen the ties of his pants, teasingly grazing over his hardened member. A low, guttural moan escapes his lips as he leans into her touch, eagerly assisting her in shedding his clothing. The air is heavy with an intoxicating mix of desire and anticipation as they both give in to their primal urges.

In an instant, she drops to her knees before him, her lips parting eagerly and her hands reaching up to unbutton his pants. Her breath is hot against the fabric as she pulls it down, revealing his throbbing member. She takes him into her mouth, her tongue swirling and flicking along the length of him. The sensation sends shivers down his spine and he can't help but moan in pleasure. Every movement of her mouth is calculated and skilled, sending waves of intense pleasure through his body.

He sits on the edge of the bed, his breath coming in heavy pants as Lavellan's skilled hand deftly removes his pants without interrupting the rhythm of her mouth on his cock. She slows her movements, her gaze fixed on him as she flicks her tongue in slow circles around the tip. Each touch sends shivers down his spine and he grips the sheets tightly, unable to contain the pleasure coursing through him. His senses are overwhelmed by the sight of her beautiful form kneeling before him, her lips caressing him with expertise.

His hands tangle into her long, wavy hair as she slowly releases his member. Her soft tongue glides down his length before circling around his balls and bringing them gently into her warm mouth. As she sucks and licks, her other hand begins to twist and stroke up and down against his throbbing cock. The sensation is almost overwhelming, causing him to moan with pleasure as he loses himself in the pleasure she is giving him.

"Vhenan..." he groans, his deep voice husky with desire. In his voice is a gentle command, one that sends shivers down Lavellan's spine. She hums in acknowledgement as she removes her mouth from his throbbing cock, relishing in the way it twitches under her touch. Climbing back into bed, she lays on her back with a contented sigh, waiting for Solas to join her. He moves gracefully, his body fluid and controlled as he settles over her. Gently, he leans down to capture her lips once more, his hands caressing her skin. Adjusting one of her legs, he delicately drapes it over his shoulder, drawing them impossibly closer.

Lavellan's breath catches as Solas positions himself at her entrance. He pauses, his violet eyes locking with hers, seeking silent permission. She nods, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. With a gentle roll of his hips, Solas enters her slowly, savoring every sensation as he fills her completely. The feeling of him inside her after so long is exquisite, a perfect joining that makes them feel whole again

Solas pauses, allowing her to adjust to his size. His violet eyes lock with hers, filled with an intensity that takes her breath away. His hips grind against hers, causing her to moan in response as he holds her close.

Lavellan reaches up to cup his face, her thumb stroking his cheek. "Ar lath ma vhenan," she breathes. At her words, something in Solas seems to break. With a soft moan, Solas leans in and captures her lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. His hands grip her hips as he sets a steady rhythm, thrusting into her with a controlled urgency that makes their bodies collide in perfect harmony.

Lavellan arches her back, drawing him in deeper. Her hands roam over his shoulders and back, relishing the feeling of his muscles flexing beneath her fingertips.

Solas's movements become more urgent, his thrusts deeper and more passionate. Lavellan matches his intensity, her hips rising to meet his with each stroke. Their bodies move together in perfect synchronicity, as if they were made for each other. Soft moans and gasps fill the air as they lose themselves in the moment. Solas buries his face in the crook of Lavellan's neck, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. His lips trace a path along her collarbone, pausing to suck gently at the sensitive skin.

"Solas," Lavellan whimpers, her fingers digging into his back. She can feel the tension building within her, a coiling heat that threatens to consume her.

Understanding her unspoken request, Solas shifts his angle slightly, hitting that perfect spot within her. Lavellan cries out, her back arching as sparks of ecstasy shoot through her body. Solas's pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he feels Lavellan trembling beneath him. Her soft cries of pleasure spur him on, igniting a primal need within him. He reaches between their bodies, his fingers finding her sensitive bundle of nerves. With skilled, circular motions, he strokes her in time with his thrusts.

Lavellan's world narrows to the exquisite sensations coursing through her body. The coiling tension within her builds to a crescendo, and with a breathless cry of Solas's name, she tumbles over the edge. Waves of pleasure crash over her as her inner walls clench around him. Solas groans deeply, the feeling of her climax pushing him towards his own release. His movements become erratic, his breath coming in short gasps against her neck. With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside her, groaning her name as his body shuddering as he finds his own release.

For several long moments, they remain still, bodies intertwined as they catch their breath. Solas places gentle kisses along Lavellan's neck and jaw, savoring the afterglow of their passion. Slowly, he lifts his head to meet her gaze, his eyes filled with tenderness. The air around them seems to shimmer, the Fade responding to the intensity of their emotions.

As their breathing slows, Solas gently rolls to the side, pulling Lavellan with him so she rests against his chest. His fingers trace lazy patterns on her back as she nestles into him, their legs still intertwined. The Fade shimmers around them, reflecting the contentment and peace they both feel in this moment.

Lavellan nuzzles into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. "I've missed you," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. Solas tightens his arms around Lavellan, drawing her closer as if trying to merge their very beings. His heart swells with a bittersweet ache at her words. "And I you, vhenan, far more than you could know.” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion.

For a long moment, they simply lie there, basking in each other's presence. Solas's fingers trace idle patterns along Lavellan's spine, reveling in the softness of her skin.

Eventually, Lavellan props herself up on an elbow, her gaze searching Solas's face. Her free hand comes up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone. "What happens now?" she asks softly, her voice tinged with both hope and apprehension

Solas meets Lavellan's gaze, his violet eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and sorrow. He covers her hand on his cheek with his own, turning slightly to press a gentle kiss to her palm. "Tomorrow, we will continue on our journey," he says softly. “Together.”

A smile forms across her face. "Together." she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper. Solas leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Rest now, vhenan," he murmurs against her skin. Lavellan nestles closer to Solas, her head resting on his chest as she listens to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arms encircle her, holding her close as if afraid she might slip away. The Fade shimmers softly around them, a gentle cocoon of tranquility.

As sleep begins to claim her, Lavellan feels a sense of peace wash over her. For the first time in years, she feels truly safe and whole. The path ahead may be uncertain, fraught with challenges and difficult choices, but in this moment, wrapped in Solas's embrace, she knows they will face it together.

Solas remains awake, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along Lavellan's back as she drifts off to sleep. He marvels at the warmth of her body against his, the softness of her breath on his skin. His mind wanders to the path that lies ahead, the challenges they have yet to face. There is still so much to atone for, so many wrongs to right. But for the first time in millennia, he feels a flicker of hope. With Lavellan by his side, perhaps redemption is not as far out of reach as he once believed.

Solas presses a gentle kiss to the top of Lavellan's head, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. "Ar lath ma, vhenan."

[wardentabriis]

A letter to First Warden Jowin Glastrum, delivered to Weisshaput via raven:

First Warden Glastrum, I won’t stand on ceremony with you. I’ve been in this position for more than two decades, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to kick me out of it now. I’d love to see how you explain firing the Hero of Ferelden to the other Wardens. You have one bastion of Wardens left in the South. The remaining Orlesians have retreated with me to Amaranthine, and other than a handful of stragglers, my men have not moved to answer your summons to Weisshaupt, nor will they. You need an army to fight the blight, and you have one. If we leave, the South will be without an organized force of Wardens to combat a darkspawn army more than twice as large as any I saw during the Fifth Blight. Should my Wardens join you in the North, we would leave our land to die without us. I cannot, in good faith or conscience, order loyal Wardens to abandon their positions and their homes. To be completely honest with you, Ser, I have little faith in your judgment. You may stand for Weisshaupt, but for many Wardens, your reach does not extend far past the Anderfels. Ask the average Junior Warden at Amaranthine, and most will hardly know your name. Do you know what they know the First Warden for? Adamant. Your approval of Clarel's actions. The Orlesians especially, but believe me, the Order remembers. I lost a dear friend during that siege, a hero of the Fifth Blight, and countless other Wardens lost more. Were it not for Inquisitor Lavellan’s mercy, the Orlesian branch would have been exiled to Weisshaupt. Maybe that’s an outcome you would have preferred, all things considered. Not to mention the courtesy you’ve shown Warden-Acolyte Thorne recently. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You had access to a man who knows more about the blight and ancient elven magic than almost anyone in our Order, and not only did you exile him for doing his duty and protecting innocents, you still refuse to believe his warnings, and you refuse to listen to reason. Let me be abundantly clear: I was told, when I first took this position, that I could not count on support from Weisshaupt. For more than twenty years, you have been little more than a figurehead to me, my superior in name only. At every turn, all I have seen from you is thwarted efforts to protect Thedas, and Wardens dying needlessly with your approval. You may hold sway at Weisshaupt, but you have no authority in Ferelden. My units stationed with Warden Velanna and Warden Howe are under orders to hold their positions, regardless of your posturing. Warden Cousland, despite her place at our Queen Anora’s side, has returned to the Order after the fall of Denerim, a tragedy you have conveniently chosen to ignore. If the Queen-Consort of Ferelden herself can put on a Warden’s armor and lay down her life for her country, you have no excuse to disgrace our Order with your inaction. The South will stand strong against the blight. I made a promise to my Order and my people, not to you. I wish your Wardens victory against the horrors these risen gods have inflicted on us, but if you make another move to undermine my command, I will not lie down and take it. Ferelden is my home, and its Wardens are my responsibility. I hope I’ve made myself understood. With all the respect due to your office, Warden-Commander Aurelian Tabris of Ferelden

[elspethdekarios]

Atonement

Hello fellow Solavellan sufferers!!! I've written a little fic about what I imagine goes down between Solas and Lavellan once the game is over. I'll have you know I listened to the Lost Elf Theme on repeat while writing it, if that tells you anything. Anyway, read below the cut or on AO3 here!

SFW, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2,821

! HUGE VEILGUARD SPOILERS !

When she stepped into the Fade, hand in hand with her love, Sulah had no preconceived notion of what to expect on the other side, nor did she spend a moment speculating about what it could possibly be. She was with Solas, after all, and there was no use in trying to predict his actions. It was funny, really—how she found him predictable and surprising all in the same. No, there was little use trying to guess where in the Fade he would lead them. Nonetheless, she wasn't sure she would have ever expected this.

The pocket of the Fade they walked into was dull and gray as stone. In fact, most of it was stone. Fragments of buildings and debris floated slowly through the foggy sky above. Tendrils of winding roots grew up through cracks in the stone. There were staircases that seemed to lead to nowhere, and twisted, barren trees clinging to broken columns and walls. The air was so still it felt stifling in Sulah’s lungs. And Solas, downtrodden and bruised, looked like he belonged there. Like he was part of the backdrop. As if he could hear her thoughts, he spoke.

“It is a reflection of what I am. What I don't want to be.” He paused, dropping his head. “What I don't want to face.”

“This is how you atone?”

“I told you it would be terrible.”

“And I told you forever.” Sulah turned to him, heart aching for the bloodied mess of his face. “I meant it.”

Solas lifted his head enough to look at her through glassy, violet eyes. “I don’t deserve you, vhenan.”

“I think that’s up to me,” she said, wiping away a stray tear on his cheek. “Let’s talk, my love. Before you start making your amends.”

They sat with their backs against a nearby stone wall. Solas’s eyes alternated between being heavy with sleep and haunting despair. He looked so much older than she remembered him—not physically, really, but in the way he seemed to be held down with millennia of burden. On the other hand, he had the heartbreaking demeanor of a child unable to emotionally grasp the multitude of his feelings.

“I don’t know… where to start,” he breathed. With one look at her, a hint of hope glimmered amongst the sadness in his eyes. “I have missed you. Desperately so.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Sulah’s voice cracked as she spoke, a stream of tears steadily falling down her cheeks. She brushed them away and smiled sadly. “So let’s start there, shall we?”

His kiss tasted of salt and metal. She didn’t care about the wounds on his face or the small gash on his lip still swelling with blood. It had been a decade since she tasted him, touched him, spoke to him. Even though she knew he visited in her dreams, he never made contact—only watched, a dark figure in the distance. How she longed to reach out for him every time, to pull him close and find solace in his arms like she used to. Sulah crawled in front of him, her knees aching as they pressed into the cold stone, and wrapped her arms around his neck. After a brief hesitation, Solas rested his hands on her waist, his touch timid at first, like he was afraid of doing something wrong. But his touch grew more confident by the second, and soon his arms were wrapped around her so tight she could barely breathe. It felt as if a missing piece of her heart had been restored, held in place by molten gold.

“I don’t know that I can possibly tell you all of it. Perhaps I could… show you, instead.” With a single thought, Solas willed into the Fade a blue crystal statuette of a wolf, not unlike the one Sulah found when his ritual failed. He held it, concentrated on it, and its core radiated bright blue magic. He held the figure out to her. As Sulah took it from him, their destitute surroundings swirled and dissolved, leaving her in front of a young Solas. His face was not quite so worn with pain and exhaustion like the one she knew. Long, auburn hair cascaded down the center of his head, falling over his shoulder as he turned to face the other elf in front of him.

“Solas, how could you?” the other elf asked. His skin was tan, his hair was dark, and his face was marked with Mythal’s branching vallaslin. The same branches that Sulah had tattooed underneath her eyes.

“I do not expect you to understand, Felassan,” Solas said, standing tall and proud as ever. “It was necessary for the enemy to believe we were committed. A heavy sacrifice, but one that gave us a real chance to end the war.”

“You knowingly sent those spirits to their deaths!” Felassan shouted. “We’re supposed to be better than this.”

Felassan spoke to Solas with the intimacy and confidence of a close friend, unafraid to confront his wrongdoings. Sulah could make out a hint of remorse in Solas’s eyes before his face hardened into a scowl.

“I did what had to be done.”

The scene dissipated. Ruins were replaced with the glorious landscape of ancient Arlathan, sprawling greenery among grand, floating palaces. Solas argued with an elven woman who Sulah now recognized as Mythal. She was identical to the spirit fragment she had seen before stepping into the Fade with Solas, only solid and real. The words they spoke were jumbled, as if Solas couldn’t remember the exact things said when he transferred the memory to the statue, but Sulah knew what they were discussing all the same: the Blight. Solas protested, pleaded with Mythal, before finally giving in to her demands.

“I will follow you always,” he said. Sulah had never heard him sound so defeated. A distinct and overwhelming sense of shame settled over her as the scene faded.

The memories continued like this, one after the other, each one brief but enough to show her the actions that haunted him. And enough to leave her with thousands of questions. She saw his regrets from centuries ago—memories of Mythal, Elgern’an, Ghilan’nain, the other Evanuris. She saw him destroy the legacy of the titans, and the corruption that introduced the Blight to the world. She saw his sorrow at the creation of the Veil, the loss of the world he knew, the unbreakable tether he had to Mythal, similar to a commandeering mother and a child eager to please her, desperate for her approval. She saw his plans to give Corypheus the orb go awry, the conflict raging inside of him as he fell in love with Sulah, the way he almost told her the truth that night in Crestwood. She felt the guilt he carried afterwards—that he still carried. She saw him devise his devious plan to mold Rook into someone the prison would take in his place. His betrayal and desperation.

She saw the despair in his eyes when he killed Varric.

Sulah stood on the raised platform where Solas orchestrated his ritual, watching as Varric climbed the stairs in an attempt to stop his friend. Even in a memory, the air was charged with powerful magic, culminating in a swirling wind that blew her hair into her face, obscuring her view. She could only make out fragments of the argument.

“You need to listen—”

“You have come a long way and made a valiant effort, Varric—”

“—able to give me a straight answer—”

“—rather than admit this is mine to solve—”

“—who are you trying to convince here? Me or yourself?”

Varric’s last statement stung like a knife. His words echoed as time slowed. Sulah felt the heavy burden of self doubt imbued in Solas’s memory as the two men locked eyes, their argument hanging in the air between them. In a chaotic flash, several things happened: Solas turned to continue the ritual, Varric attempted to pry the lyrium dagger from Solas’s hands, and the monuments of the Evanuris surrounding the ritual site began to fall. Somewhere in the chaos, while wrenching the dagger back from Varric’s grasp, the blade pierced through his chest. The sound of ripping flesh. The gasp from Varric’s mouth.

“NO!” Sulah shouted. Time had slowed, and she rushed to catch him as he stumbled, forgetting that it was no use. Her arms moved through him like a ghost.

Solas watched his friend fall to the bottom of the stairs, regret bubbling up inside of him at what he’d done. And still, the sense of doubt from Varric’s words lingered, sullying Solas’s certainty as innocent blood seeped through the fabric of his gloves.

He steeled himself with cold resolve and turned away.

The gray of the Fade prison came back into view. Sulah felt like she had been in Solas’s memories for hours, but neither her body nor his had moved from the ground against the wall. He watched her with bated breath, his jaw clenched, eyes glossy with fresh tears. Moments ago, she watched him command a rebellion, steadfast and resolute and proud. A powerful god among mortals. But the Solas in front of her now held little of the immense ancient spirit she’d seen. He was only a man, broken from the weight of his regrets.

“I cannot ask for your forgiveness, vhenan. Not even your understanding.” His voice broke, his next words spoken through a sob. “I am so sorry that I let you fall in love with a monster.”

Solas hugged his knees to his chest. His hands shook and his body trembled as he cried. It was pure, raw, searing emotion—and it was the first time she had ever seen him lose control of himself. Sulah had been lonely for years, yearning for the man who felt like home while sleeping cold in an empty bed, but she’d never felt as alone as she felt now, sitting in the vast emptiness of the Fade with a god shedding centuries’ worth of repressed agony that she could never possibly comprehend. He was the one who always seemed to know what to do, who had a plan for everything. He was the one more familiar with the Fade than the waking world. But he was also the one who had to face his regrets. His pain. And he had already proven that he couldn’t do that on his own.

“Solas,” she said, quiet and sad. “You killed Varric.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked through tears.

“I… I knew he was gone, but no one…” she trailed off, thinking back to the letter she received from Morrigan shortly after she met Rook and the others. Varric was gravely injured in an altercation. He did not make it. I am sorry you have to find out this way. “No one told me it was by your hand.”

“They were protecting you,” he said. “From the truth of what I am. Perhaps they shouldn’t have done so.”

Sulah sat in silence, trying to piece it all together in her mind.

“I never meant to hurt Varric,” Solas whispered. “I have harmed so many people, innocent people, and Varric… Varric….”

He stopped speaking and rested his forehead on his knees, letting the tears fall on his armor.

“My love—”

“How can you possibly still love me, Sulah?” he snapped, a wolf showing his fangs. “I deserve whatever cruel fate awaits me here. You do not.”

“Solas—”

“Would you truly—”

“Let me speak,” she said, stern and commanding. Her Inquisitor voice, the other members liked to call it. It worked. Solas nodded for her to continue. “To heal from your past, you have to confront it. It will be painful, but you must. Tell me about Varric.”

Solas sighed and let his head fall back to the wall, the apex of his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Varric was a good man. He was my friend.” He closed his eyes and Sulah watched as a single tear ran down his bloodied face. She tried to hold back her own tears, but they streamed warm down her cheeks nonetheless.

“What would you say to him if he were here?”

“That it is one of my greatest regrets, one that I desperately wish I could take back. That I enjoyed his company on our journey years ago, and that I have missed him in the years since. And that I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

Like a prayer, the final words escaped Solas’s mouth in a despondent whisper. In the distance, a structure resembling the skyline of Kirkwall crumbled. Sulah recognized it from her visit several years ago. She had only made it to Kirkwall once in the time that Varric was viscount, a position he reluctantly accepted, but one that she always suspected he secretly enjoyed. He took her to the cliffs of Sundermount, where Dalish sometimes set up camp. It looked remarkably like the area of the Free Marches her clan frequented before she left.

“I thought it might remind you of home”, he had said.

“I came here to see* your *home, Varric.”

“We’re doing that too.” he pointed across the water to the silhouetted, square buildings.

She smiled at the memory and let herself cry as the Kirkwall replica became an avalanche of stone plummeting into the abyss. When its final, broken pieces fell, Solas turned back to her and took a long breath. She looked at him, attempting to reconcile the Solas she knew and loved, the Solas in front of her now, with the Solas she saw in his memories. There was a cruel pride deep inside of him, one he tried to keep from her for so long. She could see it now, and it was fractured.

How could she possibly come to terms with all he had done? He had taken Varric away from this world, a man who, despite his faults, brought hope and friendship and humor into the world around him. She could feel the empty, aching shells of all the hearts who missed him—including her own. There were more adventures to be had, more books to be written, and Solas took it away. Away from Varric, away from the world. Sulah couldn’t bring herself to consider the even larger things he had done. The man she loved was responsible for the Blight. He tranquilized the Titans. He murdered his friends—sometimes on accident, sometimes for what he considered betrayal.

Sulah steadied her breathing and closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythm of the air flowing in and out of her lungs. She let the world fall away until she could feel nothing but the essence of her soul spreading into her limbs, making her weightless. If Solas was a spirit of wisdom, what was she, deep down? A word stirred somewhere in the depths of her heart: patience.

“This is going to take a long time, vhenan.” Solas’s words roused her from contemplation.

“Yes,” she said. “For both of us, I think.”

For the first time since reuniting, he touched her of his own accord, studying her prosthetic arm with gentle fingers before resting his hand on her thigh beside it.

“It’s a good thing time doesn’t exist in the Fade, then.” Sulah placed her remaining hand on top of his. “To answer your earlier question, I choose to still love you despite your mistakes, Solas. I love you because I tried to move on, to meet other people, but none of them could touch whatever piece of my soul that you do. Every person I tried to give my heart to was a flimsy bandage over a gaping wound. And I had to reconcile with myself that I love someone who would tear the world apart for his own stubborn pride. I know your heart, Solas. You are more than your mistakes.”

Sulah felt as if a small part of the rift between them had stitched itself back together; a fragile scar translucent and deep, but healing nonetheless. For a moment, the insurmountable hurdles she would have to help him overcome fell away. It was just the two of them, together in the Fade like all those years ago. She knew how the world would see them: the lovestruck Inquisitor and the Dread Wolf. The cautionary tale of a Dalish girl who fell right into the jaws of Fen’Harel himself.

“Sulah,” Solas reached for her face with both hands, holding her like he had to be sure she wasn’t a mere reflection of his desire. “As long as you will have me, I swear to you: I will never abandon you again. You will have me, always.”

His kiss was soft, but charged with intention. Devotion. As they broke apart, he pulled Sulah into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“Ar lath ma vhenan. Bellanaris.”

[sky--phantom]

Trespasser! 🫡

btw, pls don't hold the hair clipping against me 😅 this is her hairstyle, and I liked the outfit too much to change it because of the neck.

Also, warning, I ended up rambling at the end 😅

Lavellan when she spots Solas and the Viddasala

I don't know why but this one just seems so funny to me out of context 😂 like, "honey, you know that thing you told me not to do?"

Solas as Lavellan talks about how she discovered he's the Dread Wolf. I don't know how to describe this expression, sad, fond, proud? I think there would be a "Solas approves" here tho 🥲

"What is the old Dalish curse? “May the Dread Wolf take you”?"

"And so he did" (this is the other line that kills me)

They closed their eyes and lowered their heads at the same second during the "I would not have you see what I become". These two angsty mfs

(Though judging by how Solas' bags in DAV + that bit told in the GI article, she wasn’t exactly wrong to say "I cannot bear to think of you alone")

The Anchor flares up

"Solas, var lath vir suledin"

"I wish it could, vhenan."

the kiss 😢

It kills me how he brushes her hair back, and then holds her face. He also holds her hand with his other one.

They both just look so fking wrecked during this kiss.

And then he leaves 😞

now to wait for their next meeting in DAV 🥲

I still can't believe that, besides his visits to her dreams (which I think is probably a whole other post), this is the last time they meet. Pretty sure DAV is 8 years after this.

This was devastating. Both of them are wrecked, this is not what they want, but it's the path Solas has chosen to walk through. It hurts because falling in love with Lavellan is probably one of the few times in a while that Solas has done something just for himself, not for the cause, not for the people, but Solas

("The blame is mine, not yours. It was irresponsible and selfish of me") ("Because I made a selfish mistake. Because you deserve better"),

and he has to break it off. No matter how Lavellan and the other members of the Inquisition have helped him see people as, you know, people, this is a mission he has set for himself, something he believes he has to do, his duty.

(Also, I forgot to mention it during the Crestwood post, but it hurts when he stops saying vhenan and changes to Inquisitor)

So, Solas drags his feet, walking slowly, but still walks away from Lavellan and towards the eluvian. He walks away from the person who fell in love with him when he was just Solas, and walks towards the path where he is Fen'Harel, the god of rebellion who has tried to help his people, even if it doesn't turn out well.

He leaves behind a Lavellan whose heart is breaking for the 3rd time because of the same man, who has to deal with what happens with the Inquisition (mine disbanded with the angry option), and the loss of an arm. Also, you know, dealing with the fact that he is an elven god and wants to destroy the veil.

So, yeah...

Sorry that this got a bit very rambly 😅 I just finished the game a little over 2 weeks ago, and there are a lot of thoughts running around my head.

I'm looking forward to seeing what happens with Solas in DAV, and how the Inquisitor will be integrated into the game as well. (side note, I'm so curious about that, bc they haven't even mentioned if the Inky CC will have the same options as Rook) (I just want to know if there are prosthetics and if they can have body tattoos)

These are more general, just thought they were pretty

[darkurgetrash]

Through the Veil | Solavellan oneshot

!Spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard!

Ship: Solas / Inquisitor Lavellan | Rating: General, no warnings. | Wordcount: 1,557 | read on ao3

Lavellan and Solas finally reunite. Spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

“She hadn’t crossed the veil because she didn’t understand the fate that awaited them. She had come because a life without him was no life at all.”

…Or: I wasn’t happy with how Dragon Age: The Veilguard ended, so I fixed it.

Lavellan rested her hand lightly on Solas’ shoulder as they moved toward the veil. His hands stayed folded before him, still and distant, as if to move them even slightly would cause him to fall apart.

He would sacrifice himself to repair the ruin he had wrought upon the world, and she would join him.

Her heart ached with the enormity of it. She understood what this meant, the cost of the decision. And though fear coursed through her, she wanted nothing more than to stand beside him, no matter what awaited them on the other side.

Then, as his magic unfurled around them, binding them to the threshold of the unknown, her breath hitched. Some part of her had expected him to turn away from her again, to leave her behind as he had before. It would have been easier, less complicated, to be alone again.

But there was no betrayal. No trick.

In his first unspoken act of freedom—freedom from Mythal, from his duty, from the endless, crushing weight of centuries—he had chosen her. Finally chosen her. And in that choice, however small, was the faintest glimmer of healing, a step toward becoming something simpler, something real.

Her Solas.

*

The world beyond the veil was muted, painted in desolation. Shades of ash smeared the sky, and jagged fissures carved into the ground bled into endless chasms, their depths humming a haunting dirge. A heavy stillness hung in the air, broken only by the faint hum of an unseen force—regret, made tangible.

Lavellan’s heart trembled at the sight. Was this where he had been imprisoned? It was a world carved from torment, a prison that mirrored Solas’ soul, haunted by centuries of guilt and unspoken grief. The Dreadwolf’s grief. Fen’Harel’s grief. For they were all one and the same.

She turned her gaze to him, standing beside her like a statue carved from sorrow. His head was bowed and his posture sagged with a defeat she had never seen in him before; a sight more frightening than any battle she’d ever faced. His hands curled into trembling fists at his sides. She remembered those hands, the way they used to hold hers, steady and warm. Now they were shaking, his fingers clenching as if grasping for something unreachable.

“Solas…” She whispered, tentatively, but still he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, his attention remained fixed on the ground, as though the cracks beneath their feet might swallow him whole—or like he wished they would.

Her throat tightened as she watched him. Even now, after all he had done, her heart betrayed her. It throbbed with an unbearable ache for all that was lost. The time spent apart from him. The world’s ruin. Varric…

All of it was his doing. He had left her to pick up the pieces, to shoulder the burden he had passed on to her the day his anchor was branded on her hand.

She should have hated him. Perhaps part of her even wanted to. But as she looked at him now, silhouetted against this wasteland of his own making, hate was impossible.

He was still Solas. The man who had once whispered her name as if it were sacred, who had kissed her like she was his salvation. The man who had walked away—not because he didn’t love her, but because he feared losing her love when she saw what he had to become.

But he didn’t lose her. She loved him. She always had, and despite everything, she still did. That love had never left her—not in the near-decade since he vanished. It had clawed at her heart through every painful day, every sleepless night. And now, standing here in his purgatory, she knew this was where she was meant to be.

She hadn’t crossed the veil because she didn’t understand the fate that awaited them. She had come because a life without him was no life at all.

“Ma Vhenan…” she whispered again, releasing a shaky breath as she let her hand fall from his shoulder to his arm, sliding down until her fingers brushed his palm.

To her surprise, he didn’t pull away. He took her hand, grasping it tightly—desperately—as though she were still his anchor. His head turned slightly, just enough for her to see the edge of his face; jaw clenched, and lips trembling as though he were holding back words—or tears.

She swallowed, fighting back tears herself. What could she even say? She didn’t know whether she wanted to throw herself upon him in loving passion, or scream at him for all that had passed.

…No, that wasn’t right. Anger and grief weighed upon her, as right it should, but she couldn’t fathom even reaching for it right now. Whatever she could say, she was sure, was no worse than what he must have been telling himself for thousands upon thousands of years.

There would be time for her grief, and her anger. But right now...

“There’s…” she trembled, the words like lead in her throat. “There’s so much to—”

Before she could finish, he turned to her fully, his movements abrupt and raw. His lips crashed against hers, and the force of it stole the breath from her lungs.

The kiss was not gentle—it was frantic, desperate, a torrent of everything he had never been able to say. She felt his guilt, his grief, his love pouring into her like a flood that threatened to drown them both.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she clung to him, her hands grasping desperately at his shoulders. She could feel his anguish in every movement, his overwhelming need to feel her, to hold her, to remind himself that she was real, and here.

When he finally pulled away, it was as if the kiss had shattered something inside him. He staggered back, his legs giving out beneath him as he fell to his knees. His hands clutched at her desperately, his face buried against her legs.

“Ma vhenan,” he choked, his voice raw and trembling, his shoulders heaving with every sob. “After everything I’ve done… I have spent years longing for you, but believing—fearing—that your forgiveness would be an impossibility. For what I had to do… for what I’ve become…”

Her heart shattered at the sound of his voice, broken and unrecognisable. She dropped to her knees beside him, her arms wrapping around him instinctively. He was shaking, his entire body wracked with the weight of his sorrow, and she held him as tightly as she could — for all those years she couldn’t.

“Not a day went by that I didn’t think of you, vhenan,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I saw you everywhere, even in my dreams. And I knew—no matter the distance, no matter the pain—we would find each other again. Var lath vir suledin.”

“You said as much before,” he murmured, his voice a ragged whisper. “But still, I could not let myself believe… I dared not hope you meant those words as truth.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her hands cupping his face. “I meant it, Solas. I always meant it.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as though nothing else in existence mattered. Then, when Solas finally pulled back, his hands came up to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears. His gaze met hers, and in his eyes, she saw everything—his sorrow, his regret, his love.

“Ir abelas, vhenan,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “Ar lath ma. Ar lath ma, vhenan. More than I can express, more than words could allow.”

She smiled softly, her hands covering his as she leaned into his touch. “Be at peace, my heart,” she murmured, resting her forehead against his. “We are together now. Ar lasa mala revas. We are free.”

Solas closed his eyes, his breath gradually steadying as he rested his forehead against hers. In that moment, she saw no remnant of a god, but purely Solas, as Solas. A man who loved her with everything he had.

And then, as her tears fell silently onto the cracked earth, she saw it. A small, fragile flower pushing its way through the tiniest fissure. Its petals were soft and violet, like his eyes, glowing faintly in the muted light. Was it real, or just a trick of her mind? Solas didn’t seem to notice, but when he opened his eyes, a smile touched his lips—a smile that held the softness, the love, she had feared she would never see again.

She smiled back, a quiet, contented curve of her lips. If this prison was born from his regrets, then perhaps there was still hope for them, after all. But whether the future would be truly bright, it no longer mattered to her. Right now, in this shared stillness, all that mattered was him, and her, and the undeniable truth that they were finally together, just as fate had always intended.

Whatever the future held, as long as Solas' hand remained firmly in hers, she knew they would face it side by side.

And for the first time in years, Lavellan felt hopeful.

And happy.

[sammakesart]

I’ve been thinking about my top 3 happy-ish endings for Solas and a Lavellan who romanced him.

Do I think these are going to happen? Probably not. But if I was a writer on the game and I got to write endings for them, these are the ones I’d write:

Solas becomes “just” Solas. He loses his immortality, and he and Lavellan cast off the titles of Fen’harel and Inquistor for good. They venture off into the world together, never to be seen or heard from again. They journey around Thedas exploring ruins and perhaps helping the occasional Dalish clan they come upon, never revealing their identities, before disappearing again into the night. They become a folk tale.

Solas has to remain in the Lighthouse/Fade/somewhere else. He either is trapped there or chooses to remain there for the greater good. Lavellan chooses to stay with him so he is not alone. Where ever they are trapped gives Lavellan immortality.

Solas embraces his Fen’harel mantle. He and Lavellan, now an immortal as well, become the leaders of a new pantheon of gods. This could be a more “bad” end—seeing as how art that depicts Solas as the Dread Wolf seems darker/more sinister. But this would be a “bad” end I could get behind narratively. I would also just like one (1) story about a god falling in love with a mortal to let the mortal become a god! Or a “villain” romance where they let them join the dark side!! Come on!!!

[vivemonroi]

Can we talk about Hallelujah and how it represents Solavellan? We've long considered Hallelujah as the hymn for Solavellan, but I never fully realized how deeply it might reflect their love.

I combined lyrics from Leonard Cohen’s version and Rufus Wainwright’s rendition to get a "full picture."

Content spoilers!

I imagine that it’s Lavellan singing to Solas, sharing how she sees him and his story.

Now I′ve heard there was a secret chord That David played, and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth The minor falls, the major lifts The baffled king composing Hallelujah

The "baffled king" could represent Solas and his god-like status during the Evanuris era. Even with his power and knowledge, Solas could be seen as someone vulnerable, struggling with the burdens of his choices. This reflects his grandeur and his inner conflict, showing that despite his god-like status, he was still susceptible to doubt, regret, and even love.

Your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you

Now that we know more about Solas and Mythal’s relationship, I think that the "her" mentioned is actually Mythal, and Solas was willing to do anything for her. This includes obtaining a physical body and standing by her side no matter what.

She tied you to a kitchen chair She broke your throne, and she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

But eventually, Mythal leaves Solas, who remains attached to her. She "broke his throne," meaning she pushed him to rebel; she made him cut his hair… and now the guy is bald. Clearly, this represents his betrayal.

The Hallelujah signifies the deepest, most sacred love — he still loved her, even then. But their relationship was ultimately toxic for both of them.

Maybe I've been here before I know this room, I've walked this floor I used to live alone before I knew you I've seen your flag on the marble arch Love is not a victory march It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Now Lavellan is singing about herself and her life before Solas. She was alone, especially after the Conclave and becoming the Herald of Andraste. The Dalish rejected her, and humans weren’t her people — much like Solas himself, upon awakening to a world that was no longer his.

With him, she discovers a love deeper than any she has known, she realizes that loving someone is not a "victory march." Her love for him is filled with pain and bittersweetness. It's hard to love him, yet she love him still.

There was a time you'd let me know What's real and going on below But now you never show it to me do you?

This is about the time they shared during the events of the Inquisition. He taught her about the Fade and the ancient gods, but after Trespasser, he vanished, concealing his true self beneath the mask of Fen’Harel.

And then there’s the line, “you’d let me know what’s real.” Remember what Solas said after they defeated Corypheus, just before he walked away forever?

“I want you to know that what we had was real.”

And remember when I moved in you? The holy dark was moving too And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Both could represent the time they shared or her attempts to reach him after Trespasser. The "holy dark"— maybe the Blight?

You say I took the name in vain I don′t even know the name But if I did, well, really, what's it to you?

She didn’t know his true title, the Dread Wolf, a part of his very nature and ancient past. Yet she wonders: if she had known, would it have changed anything?

Now there's a different versions for Lavellan who want to save Solas and Lavellan who want to stop him.

The redeemed and happy version.

There's a blaze of light in every word It doesn′t matter which you heard The holy or the broken Hallelujah

At first glance, it may seem like the holy love, the holy Hallelujah, represents his love for Mythal, and the broken one for Lavellan. But I think it's the opposite: Mythal is a god, yet their love is broken; Lavellan is mortal, but her love for him is divine. Both of them have the power to redeem him, in different ways — one through letting go, and the other through allowing him to be loved.

I did my best, it wasn′t much I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch I′ve told the truth, I didn't come to fool you

The words point directly to Solas, she tries to convince him, that their love can find a way to endure. She isn't like Mythal, she accepts him, his nature. But he's afraid, he's not allowing himself to move forward.

And even though it all went wrong I′ll stand before the Lord of Song With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Even in the end, Lavellan still holds onto her love for Solas, with nothing on her tongue but their sacred love.

She is his future.

Now to the grim and sad version

Maybe there's a God above And all I ever learned from love Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you

He deceives her, and all that love has taught her is sorrow. Mythal' and Solas' history confirms that.

She remains steadfast, standing in his path, even if it means his end, because her love and his history taught her "to shoot at someone who outdrew you."

And it′s not a cry you can hear at night It's not somebody who′s seen the light It's a cold and it′s a broken Hallelujah

In this version, their love is doomed to be cold and broken. There is no light. She has given up on him, yet the suffering remains, deep and unrelenting. Still, it is a Hallelujah.

He is all alone, facing his most terrible fear. Yet he believes he deserves it and it's the only thing that can redeem him.

Thank you for reading this! I know I’m being delusional, but it helps me sleep at night.