#elvhen rebellion

[queenaeducan]

On Life in the Lighthouse

This ancient logbook is filled with meticulous veilfire runes. Though it is encoded, flicking through it offers vignettes of borrowed memory.

Fearful refugees are ushered into the Lighthouse through eluvians, emerging from the infirmary and libraries as soldiers, spies, and scholars. Gardeners plant long-extinct herbs that grow, are harvested, and wither in the blink of an eye. The sharp smell of distilling medicine wafts from a window, and poison for the enemy drips into a vial. The arguments of a war council go on late into the night; forbidden songs are sun freely, with filthy lyrics substituted for the Evanuris' names.

Finally, a heated conversation silhouetted against glass with quick shadows darting behind it. The argument ends with a wordless but unmistakable impression: "You summoned them: you feed them."

[bloomingdead]

as annoying as it is Solas’ villain arc (so far) actually makes sense. he helped the inquisition save the world but secretly only for the sake of elvhen restoration. and if you romanced him he literally just fell in love w Lavellan by accident. it makes sense that he is conflicted because he is in love with someone that exposes him to human, dwarven, elven, and qunari people of incredibly different backgrounds who he ends up warming to. Or if you didn’t romance him, he’s still close friends with someone who exposes him to all that. not to mention the inquisitor saving the ENTIRE world of Thedas regardless of anyone’s race. and in the case of Lavellan (or really any inquisitor that doesn’t believe in the chantry) unifying these people under a banner she doesn’t even believe in just for this cause that she sees as bigger than herself. he feels for the people he plans to disregard who exist in this world, but he believes they simply never should have existed in this state to begin with.

he truly believes that the world is simply broken, and that he is the only one aware of how to save it. he believes all disagreements/wars/slavery in this world ultimately reach back to the fall of Elvhenan and the creation of the veil (“his” world). Solas does not see this place, this “Thedas,” as the same world he chose to enter his slumber in. he feels so detached from the world around him that he cannot let the fault be on him, he is not the one who is in the wrong place, but instead it’s EVERYTHING around him that is wrong.

i think people tend to forget (since his ultimate goal is restoring the elvhen people) that regardless of how righteous his rebellion may seem, his plan is extremist in nature. he plans to expose EVERYONE to magic in a world that is overwhelmingly fearful and hateful towards mages. imagine how scared those people will be receiving or witnessing magic like they’ve never seen before. think of how MUCH worse things could get before they get better. he’s trying to force a hundred year plan into (less than..?) a decade.

Solas is kind of fuckin crazy, let’s be real. he’s not going to make perfect sense in the game where he was hiding half of himself the whole time. let’s have a little hope since we have only got the beginning of this arc so far. DA:D is going to be his full arc, we can’t pretend like inquisition was supposed to give us the full story when they literally left Trespasser on a cliffhanger for a reason. this fandom always goes through a haterade phase before new content is released but we gotta chill

[olexiss-s]

What’s interesting about Solas’s portrayal in DA4 is that we see him mostly from Rook’s perspective. Rook only knows what Varric has told them and what they observe through encounters with a cunning and distant Fen’Harel in their dreams—dreams controlled by him through blood magic, as we later discover. The Veilguard unveils his deepest regrets and judges him at his worst. Solas doesn’t try to change Rook’s mind about why the Veil must fall, he doesn’t bother painting himself as the ‘good guy’ or explaining his motivations. He repeatedly dismisses them with, ‘it’s beyond your comprehension’ and ‘you can’t understand what was lost.’ He dismisses Rook as a God would.

Though he grows to respect Rook, it changes nothing, by this point, he’s at his absolute worst. He embodies Pride to a fault. The gentle, wise, and truly idealistic aspects of his character we saw in Inquisition have been lost to what he believes he must become to achieve his goal. The Veilguard focuses on the Mythal-shaped void in his past. It might seem as though his loyalty to her was the only thing driving him, because ultimately, her releasing him from this duty stayed his hand.

To understand Solas, we have to know that he was Wisdom spirit first. He gained a physical form, and Mythal turned him into a weapon for a war he never believed in, a trauma that still reverberates through everything he does. Her final admission, that she was wrong and she's freeing him from this burden was just the breaking point of an already weakened resolve, that had one final push in the 3rd act. This vulnerability allowed for an opening for the grief he’d kept locked away unresolved, grief for her, for his lost spirit self, for his people, the Elvhen, for the magic he separated from the world, for his rebellion, for Felaasan, and for all those he betrayed and hurt in his quest to set things right. This powerful moment stripped him of his pride.

Then he sees Lavellan, kneeling before him, just as he had done for her in Trespasser. In that moment, she's a glimmer of hope, there's a sudden realization that, though this grief will be the hardest thing to bear, she’s proof that this world went on. Its people have kept fighting, and there is still beauty and goodness worth saving. And with that, there's the possibility of redemption, not giving up but letting go and facing the world and himself. A new purpose arises, and now, he won’t be blinded by solitude that tainted his heart for so long.

[heylittleriotact]

𝓐𝓵𝓰𝓸𝓻 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼:

The normal cooling of a body after death as it equilibrates with the ambient temperature.

Takes place immediately following the ending of Act 3 and features Emmrich and Amina taking a moment to themselves after all is said and done. Emmrich takes care of his beloved Reaper, and following a brief discussion about their respective plans for the future, she returns the favour.

Rating: Explicit

Under the cut or on ao3:

The roar of victory was a dull thrum that followed them through the ruined streets of Minrathous, part elation that the Elvhen threat had been bested, and partly devastation for the many lives their success had cost. Amina acknowledged every single person she passed by: hugs and handshakes were reciprocated without question, and condolences were extended to the bereaved with all of the dignified sincerity of a Watcher. It took them nearly two hours to make their way to a damaged but still structurally sound estate secured for them by the Shadow Dragons but if asked, Amina would do it all again 

The ornate doors of the manor closed behind them and the cacophony outside was muffled. Amina took two steps into the manor, bent at the waist, and splattered the floor with the contents of her stomach. 

Emmrich was on her in an instant, holding her long black hair aside with one hand and running the other comfortingly down her back.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong with her?” Taash demanded, taking a step forward. Their voice was distant - drowned out by the screeching whine in Amina’s ears.

She felt her legs wobble and give out, her armoured knees colliding roughly with the ground as she threw out a hand to steady herself, barely registering that it landed right in her sick. Everything was too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too… real. It felt like she was being driven out of her own body like a wayward spirit, her essence clinging desperately to whatever it could hold onto that would tether her here. 

Just as distantly, Amina could hear Emmrich respond to Taash but his words were lost on her as she wiped her mouth with the back of her arm and lurched clumsily to her feet.

“Harding - I need to go to her mother–” Her voice broke: she hadn’t had time… she had intended to visit Harding’s mother in person to check in on her in the days following her daughter’s death, but Elgar’nan - and Solas - had made that impossible.

She clenched her teeth at the sensation of hot tears cutting through the accumulation of grime and gore and sweat on her face, snarling defiantly through the deluge of agony crashing through her, breaking her from the inside. 

There’s still work to be done…

She was pulling away from Emmrich, her course uncharted but steadfast as she attempted to draw strength from that agony as she always had: she needed to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. It didn’t matter, as long as she was doing something… as long as she was helping. But no matter how she pulled and tugged, he wouldn’t let her go: slender as Emmrich was, he wasn’t weak by any stretch.

With some effort he managed to put himself in front of her, gold rings clinking against silverite where he gripped her shoulders before pulling her tight against him. 

“Breathe, darling.” He instructed, enshrouding her diminutive frame in his own. “I need you to breathe… can you do that for me?”

She managed an anguished sob in reply but nothing more: any attempt to draw breath was met with unforgiving resistance as her airways slammed shut in seeming rebellion against life itself.

Arrangements need to be made - things need to be taken care of, and I’m the only one left to take care of them… 

“I’ve got you: you’re safe with me.”

More tears rolled down her cheeks as her eyes clenched shut and she forced a thin, ragged inhalation into her lungs.

“Well done, darling.” Emmrich encouraged, ever calm, ever heartening. “Now let’s try for another one, shall we? I’ll do it with you. Let out your breath on the count of three: one… two… three…” 

She felt Emmrich contract against her as he slowly exhaled with her. None of this was new to her: Nevarran breathing techniques were required learning for Watchers. Claustrophobia could present unpredictably, and if one found themselves turned around or overwhelmed in the Necropolis, being able to stay calm was vital to survival.

“Perfect. Now another breath in…” He waited while Amina drew another shaky breath then loosened his hold on her to gently cup her cheek. Within moments she could feel the familiar soothing tingle of Emmrich’s magic coursing intimately through her, seeping through her overloaded nervous system and providing some relief until another horror blundered into her mind with nauseating insistence. 

“Shit.” Her eyes went wide. “Manfred… Emmrich, wh-where is Manfred?!”

“Manfred is perfectly safe,” he soothed, “He’s in the abundantly capable hands of Myrna and Vorgoth for the moment. In fact, before I left, I overheard Myrna explaining to him Karloff’s Five Principles of Ethical Reanimation.”

“Emmrich,” she rasped, clutching at his chest. “I… I need to–”

“Do absolutely nothing.” He interjected sternly, his voice absent of any playful familiarity or scholarly flair, though it softened almost reflexively as he continued. “You’ve overextended yourself, Amina. You’ve been overextended for some time, but you’ve pushed through to see this to the end - and you have - but my love, you can’t evade the reality of what you’ve been through indefinitely… you need to rest and take time to come to terms with things.” He drew his thumb over her cheek, speaking to her like she was the only person in the room.

“But–”

“It’s so incredibly kind of you to want to give your condolences to Lace’s mother in person, but it need not happen this instant. The… actions of the Inquisitor will be communicated to the south in due course.” He hung on the word ‘actions’ seemingly unsure of its accuracy but ultimately too focused on Amina to care enough to select a different one. “You need to rest,” he repeated.

She opened her mouth to argue, but likely having anticipated this from her, Emmrich spoke first.

“You’ve done so much and helped so many without asking for anything in return - please let me be the one to help you now?”

His eyes searched hers, soft and pleading, and she studied the face of the man she loved: each pleasing curve and angle that she had committed to memory etched on her heart. The crinkled lines at the corners of his eyes, and the creases around his familiar mouth spoke of years of smiles offered to comfort and soothe. 

He was filthy too, and his hair was limp and dishevelled, strands of it hanging into his face… but oh Maker how she loved him…

“I love you…” he whispered for her ears alone, his lips ghosting over hers, “And I so look forward to reminding you of that fact every day for the rest of our lives… so let me begin now: let me take care of you.”

She couldn’t bring herself to speak: emotions overwhelmed her capacity for words. The immeasurable highs and lows had won out, capped off on the highest of highs by Emmrich’s solemn declaration: she would never face anything alone again. The fight left her as she closed her eyes and nodded, and this time Emmrich caught her tears and wiped them away. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead before turning to the others. 

“She’s in no danger,” he assured them. “The gifts of a Reaper are channelled through a place of deep sorrow and grief where one should not dwell indefinitely: she is merely exhausted, and in light of this ordeal coming to an end, her body and mind are insisting upon rest and recuperation for a time. I shall go with her to find a room and get her settled in.” 

“I’ll scour the pantry.” Lucanis announced without hesitation, already shedding his gore-slicked coat. “A house like this will have a well stocked larder: I cannot do much else to assist, but I will see to it that Rook gets a good meal.” 

“And I’ll find something strong to drink -  I think we could all use one - especially Rook,” Taash volunteered grimly. 

Davrin finished checking over a cut under Assan’s eye, deeming it to be harmless. “Assan can keep her company after I find him something to eat. I’m sure he’d love to cuddle up with his favourite person after a day like today.”

“I’ll make sure word gets around that she’s not to be disturbed under any circumstances - Maker knows there’ll be all kinds of people at the door wanting her attention.” Neve remarked. “She’s in good hands with you, Emmrich. We’ll take care of everything else: you take care of her.” 

Their words echoed in Amina’s mind as Emmrich started to lead her away towards the carpeted stairs. It wasn’t long ago that she would have fought tooth and nail to avoid accepting their help for fear that she didn’t actually deserve it - that she had somehow tricked good-hearted people into thinking that she was worth any amount of concern. But now with this aching, vacuous hole in her chest threatening to devour her from the inside, knowing that she had many sets of arms to fall back into… it meant everything. 

“I love you too,” she said as they walked, the gold rings tied to her boots to alert any nearby spirits of her presence chiming with each tired step. “I love you so much Emmrich, I - I…” Her voice wavered and broke again.

He shushed her gently as they rose the stairs and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips to place comforting kisses to bloodied and dented metal. “It’s alright, darling. I know… I know.” 

They made it to the landing at the top of the stairs and Emmrich loosened his hand from hers only long enough to gesture through the air, causing the lamps lining the long hallway to illuminate with the familiar and consoling green light of veilfire - it reminded her so much of home… their home.

Meandering down the hallway, they apraised a few rooms - a study and a nursery among them - before finding a well-appointed bedroom near the end of the hall. 

The same veilfire that illuminated the hallway flooded the room with a self-assured wave of Emmrich’s fingers through the air, revealing the gilded frame of the largest four-poster bed Amina had ever seen. 

A modestly sized house would have fit comfortably within the textured red walls of the room, and every square inch was bedecked with glittering opulence and expensive furniture.

What had happened to the people who called this place home? She thought of the nursery, silent and dark, her heart sinking further.

“I know…” Emmrich’s sigh was put-upon. “It’s practically a hovel isn’t it? But our only option currently, I’m afraid.” The corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a wry smile and despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile a little too if only for the fact that his dry humour was at its most uplifting when things seemed bleakest: it was a rarely praised trait of a good Watcher to be able to maintain a sense of humour - sometimes being able to laugh was the only thing that could keep said Watcher sane.

He closed the heavy cherry door behind them softly and turned the latch, his definition of ‘recuperation’ clearly non-negotiable to anyone who found themselves outside of the bedchamber wanting to talk to her.  

The silence was inescapable now, contrasting strongly to the overwhelming chorus of sound she’d been subjected to for hours. It filled her head - made it feel full of cotton - and she frowned, standing perfectly still, observing Emmrich as he hung his staff from the rack by the door and shed his bloodied and tattered coat, hanging it with care before turning to Amina. 

“We need to get you out of that armour.” 

He set his gloves on a nearby console table and rolled up his sleeves, agile fingers performing the task with an ease that suggested he hadn’t personally assisted with the culling of a tyrannical elvhen god today. Amina felt her mouth go dry under his perceiving gaze - she’d taken direct blows from Hurlocks that winded her less than the intensity of those eyes. Overwhelmed and at her wit’s end or not, he was capable of sending something in her soul aflutter even at a time like this… that could only mean that she was still alive, right? That she hadn’t laid the last shred of her own mortal conscience on the pyre in the name of saving what little of Thedas remained to be saved?

She swallowed thickly. “I’m experiencing some sort of deja vu, I think,” she murmured, as he closed the distance between them and began loosening her baldric. “Because I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

An amused smile visited his face, his eyes downcast and focused on his task. “We have, haven’t we? I recall that convincing you to allow me to stitch you up on that occasion was also similar to pulling teeth.”

He kissed her again and went back to work, stripping away pieces of moulded metal in silence, shucking away the intimidating, unrelenting shell of a Reaper and exposing the soft, vulnerable person underneath. 

He had made it all the way down to her greaves when she emitted a sharp gasp and clapped a hand over her mouth. 

“My shield! Where’s my shield?!” She twisted in his grasp as if to look around the room for the worn and dented buckler she famously refused to part with. 

Emmrich’s brow furrowed and he worked another strap loose. “It was broken, darling, remember? By Elgar’nan.” 

At his words, the memory rushed back to her: massive fingers curling over the edge of her shield as she held it aloft in the darkness, determined to stand her ground, her body protesting with the sheer effort of keeping her defence up in the looming shadow of her ancient enemy… the sound of metal whining as it bent in that ungodly strong grip and finally shattered…

I dropped it and finished the fight with only my sword and the dagger…

“Oh, right… how silly of me to forget…” she said distantly as Emmrich finished with the greave and rose with a gingerness that at last indicated his own fatigue.

“Details will likely come and go in a disconcerting haze over the coming days.” He parted from her and peered into a secondary room off the one they were in and disappeared into it when it seemed to contain what he was looking for. The sound of running water soon followed and he re-emerged. “Try not to concern yourself with them: they are of little importance right now. You have no need for a shield or sword - we are safe.” He ran a hand down her shoulder affectionately. “I understand that contradicts a large part of your vocational education, but you must trust me. Now if you’ll follow me, we’ll take care of all of that… debris in your hair.”

‘Debris’ was hardly what she would call the grisly amalgamation of fluids and various clumped tissues that would make even the most decay-happy embalmers back home feel squeamish, but Amina took Emmrich’s hand and followed him without complaint.

A gigantic clawfoot tub was filling with water in the middle of the cavernous bathroom, and judging by the calming aroma diffusing through the air, Emmrich had helped himself to some of the scented bath oils that belonged to whomever owned the manor. 

He brought her to the sink and pulled over an upholstered stool from the nearby vanity, placing it in front of the sink and gently directing her to sit, his hand on her lower back guiding her. “The bath will be more relaxing if at least your hair is clean before you get in,” he explained, turning the taps and motioning for her to lean back. 

“Is this supposed to fix things?” Her voice was so quiet and insubstantial over the rushing water - she was surprised Emmrich even heard her as she settled the base of her skull at the rim of the sink basin and he began sweeping her long hair into his hands, wetting it and carefully picking out pieces of marble and bone and viscera as he found them. 

“There is nothing to be fixed, my darling - least of all you, if that’s your primary concern. You know as well as I that our work can be exhausting - mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It’s why we are well compensated and encouraged to take time away from the Necropolis when we feel we need it. A lesson was learned at some point over the untold years that the Necropolis has existed and people have vowed to serve its departed souls, and that is: one cannot effectively fill the cups of others when their own is dry.” He reached over her and Amina looked up at him, hanging onto his every word. She did know all of this - in fact she’d dispensed similar advice to other Watchers and mourners alike in the past, but… hearing it from someone else… being told that it was alright and that she didn’t have to be strong right now was deeply comforting. “It is not demonstrative of carelessness to the plight of others to think of oneself. I’m of the mind that it’s one of the more selfless virtues a person can aspire to.” 

Amina closed her eyes and sighed, her nose filling with the delicate floral scent of the soap that Emmrich had started methodically working through her hair. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?” 

A tender caress passed over her temple. “I do try. Are you feeling a little bit better? It looks as though some colour has returned to your face.” 

“Now you’re just laying it on thick by implying that my face had any colour to begin with, but yes… I feel steadier, more grounded.” 

“That’s music to my ears, darling,” and indeed Emmrich seemed to sag in relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he rinsed away the lathered soap, his touch unerringly mild. Washing the hair of the deceased required a gentle hand - the follicles on the scalp dilated as the skin began to dehydrate in the hours after death, making it easy to accidentally pull out clumps of a decedent’s hair if one handled it too roughly.

So much of the world thought their calling was one of macabre vulgarity when it was actually an ineffable devotion of love and tenderness when it came to the handling of all things… alive or dead.

Excess water trickled down the drain as he wrung out her hair and gestured for her to sit upright with a light touch of his fingers on her shoulder - he was so good at that - so confident in his ability to impart instructions that he didn’t even need words to make his expectation clear. She turned on the seat, putting her back to him so it was easier for him to weave her damp hair into a braid.

She closed her eyes again and a satisfied hum resonated in her chest as slender fingers stroked through her hair, separating it and passing the strands from hand to hand. 

When he was done, he took her hand and helped her to her feet. “I’ll leave you to the privacy of your bath, but I will remain close by: if you require anything at all, my dearest love, just call.” He bowed his head respectfully, his thumb tracing the soft skin at the inside of her wrist before he turned to depart.

“Please stay,” she entreated, locking her fingers between his before he could step out of reach. He halted. “I… I would rather not be alone right now, if it’s alright with you.” 

He lifted their entwined hands and kissed the back of hers. “Of course. In that case, I’ll step out while you make yourself comfortable and will return when you’re ready for me.” 

Ever the gentleman. He clearly wasn’t going to let their passion in the Necropolis the night before get the better of decades of deeply ingrained propriety. She felt her pulse quicken slightly at the fresh memory of their night together and wondered if the invitation to keep her company while she sat naked in a bathtub made his heart pound too, but a wave of shame crashed through her just as quickly, smothering the heat that had started to smoulder in her belly: people were dead, and now was not the time for such thoughts. 

When the door closed behind Emmrich, Amina clambored out of her stiff, smelly clothing, grimacing as she peeled sticky fabric from her skin. She left everything in a heap and nudged it to the other side of the room with her bare foot, wanting to be as far away from the stench as possible. When she was satisfied, she sank into the bathtub, a purely reflexive moan slipping from her lips at the feeling of relief as warm water enfolded aching muscles. The water was almost instantly dirtied, but she didn’t care - it felt amazing. 

“You can come in.” She drew her braid over her shoulder and folded her arms on the porcelain edge of the tub, resting her chin on her hands. Even if it mattered to her there was no need to fear for her modesty: whatever Emmrich had added to the water made it semi-opaque and it looked very pretty in the light of the veilfire.

Emmrich sat on the vanity stool. “How is it, darling?” 

“It’s perfect.” She found his hand with hers again - it seemed she couldn’t bear to be parted from him for long… not when they’d come so close to losing one another.

“You have no idea what a relief that is to hear.” 

Her lips curved into a smile as she studied him silently, turning thoughts and feelings over in her mind. Her heart was heavy, and her body was spent. People had indeed died - tragedy and victory apportioned in equal measure, but Emmrich was right: she had given as much of herself to the cause as she was capable of giving… and then some. There was still work to be done - the restoration of Thedas would be long and difficult. But it was time to rest and take a hard-earned moment of peace for what it was, even though a persistent voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to cease dallying in the bath and get back to work. 

No.

“Would you like to join me?” 

The question was posed such that it caught Emmrich off guard, causing his eyes to widen and a flush of colour to creep over his pallid skin. His mouth hung open slightly.

“J-join you? I can wait until you’re done - that is to say: finished - I would hate to impose, you see–” 

She listened to him stumble over his words, enchanted by his flustered demeanour until she decided it was time to rescue him, and said, “It’s no imposition at all. Besides, if you’re in the same state as I am underneath all those clothes, I suspect you’ve got bits of darkspawn in places where even your flexible limbs can’t reach: a collaborative approach to bathing would serve us best in this situation.” 

Emmrich’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “You make a compelling argument, I admit, but–” 

“We had sex in a coffin under the Necropolis last night because we knew the world might end in the morning, Emmrich - I think it’s fair to say that any notion that this is in any way a traditional courtship has gone out the window.” She reached out and popped loose the topmost button of his shirt. “Besides, the idea of having to wait through an entire courtship before I can have you sounds torturous…” her thumb and forefinger found another button, and he didn’t move to stop her. “I think I prefer our abridged approach, if I’m being honest…” she smirked and went for the third button but he intercepted her, graceful fingers catching her wrist.

“That may be the case, dearest, but I still intend to treat you with the veneration you are owed as my beloved.” 

A shiver ran up her spine - it might have been the sentiment - my beloved - or the fact that it was delivered in a tone half an octave lower than usual. She couldn’t settle on a conclusion, but she felt emboldened regardless.

“Then you can start by getting into this ridiculously large bathtub with me,” she whispered coquettishly, and she followed the path of his hand with her eyes as it released her wrist and drifted to that third button, slipping it free with a practised twist.

She felt herself smile properly for the first time that day as Emmrich disrobed and lowered himself into the water across from her: it was real - he was real - and he wanted her. Wanted her enough to occupy dirty bathwater with her without complaint. 

His legs brushed against hers under the water and she resisted the very compelling urge to launch herself at him just to feel his skin on hers as she had the night before. Instead, she grabbed a bar of soap and a sponge off the tray on the side of the tub and held them up. 

Emmrich tilted his head inquisitively but said nothing: the amused curl of his lips said it all. He turned his back to her and slotted himself between her legs and Amina wet the soap and began wiping away the worst of the dirt from his shoulders and back with the sponge. She took her time, relishing the warmth of him under her fingers as she washed away the remains of the day. 

“So… about those plans you mentioned earlier: care to expand on them?” She ventured. 

She didn’t want to think about today anymore, didn’t want to linger on thoughts of Varric and Harding… those would insist on themselves enough over the coming months as she grieved them, she knew that for certain. Right now turning her mind to thoughts of a future that was almost lost seemed like a better distraction.

Emmrich chuckled warmly, the comforting lilt reverberating around the room. “It’s an extensive list, I’m afraid, too lengthy and detailed to summarise neatly in a few breaths.” She squeezed the sponge and sent a stream of water and suds meandering down his arm, tracing the shape of his sharp angles and lissom composition. “Truth be told, I was actually hoping you might render some assistance.” 

“Oh?”

“As you know, I have pupils awaiting my return to the Necropolis: their studies have been regrettably delayed in my absence, not to mention Manfred will require oversight as he embarks on his own educational journey.” 

“But…”

“I’ve rather enjoyed my time beyond the walls of the Necropolis, and now that I’m not… now that I will most certainly…” He seemed unable to settle on a palatable way to say ‘die’. 

“It’s alright,” she squeezed his shoulder softly. “Go on.” 

“Thank you, dear - it’s only that my priorities have been somewhat reorganised given the revised trajectory of my life: I no longer have a theoretically unlimited amount of time in which to see the world, and I find myself wondering if it would be terribly selfish of me to defer the date of my return for a while longer - take a sabbatical of sorts so that I may continue to experience the wonders of the continent without the looming threat of annihilation… with you, should you wish to accompany me.” He looked over his shoulder at her and Amina wasn’t ignorant of the fleeting glance that wandered down to her soapy breasts, nor the desire that shadowed his eyes at the sight of her pale nipples just peeking over the surface of the water. Oh dear, he was getting distracted…

“Don’t know how much of the continent there is left to see after everything.” She wrung the sponge, making a subtle but very deliberate show of pushing her breasts together with the insides of her arms. Emmrich’s throat bobbed and he seemed to win some inner struggle after a moment and looked forward again. “But yeah… I think a break would do us both some good. Besides, ‘seeing the world’ was what I was supposed to be doing anyway before this nightmare started. I’ll go anywhere with you, Emmrich,” she smiled. “Especially if there’s a beach involved.” 

She scooted closer to him, bracketing him between her thighs, finding his skin with hers as she reached around him to start soaping up his chest. Spurred on by the breathy little gasp he made, Amina continued to wash him, kissing up the line of his neck as she did. 

“What other plans would you like to make with me, darling?” She whispered, softly catching his earlobe between her teeth and earning a tantalising whine for her trouble. 

“At the moment, none that are fit for polite company…”

“Good thing it’s just the two of us then.” She let go of the sponge and dipped her hand beneath the surface of the fragrant water, unable to see, but able to feel her way, fingers dancing over his abdomen, following the neatly tended to strip of hair that started at his navel, down, down, down until she found him - and she found him to be rock hard. 

He moaned in earnest now, his head falling back against her shoulder, hand rising to cup the side of her face as she slowly stroked the length of him, humming contentedly, unable to help herself: she wanted him in her, on her, and around her at all times.

“Care to hear about my plans?” She pressed a kiss to the expanse of skin under his ear. “We can compare notes after.”

“Please,” he breathed, eyes closed, a contented smile spreading across his face - the very definition of the cat that got the cream. 

She drew nondescript shapes on his chest with her fingers, lingering on the patch of hair at his sternum, the bar of soap forgotten and lost to the bottom of the tub. “First on my list when we get out of this bath: I’m going to make love to you - slowly… sweetly.” She drew her lower lip through her teeth at the throb of his cock under her fingers and the shudder she coaxed from him when she ran the tip of her thumb over his slit, feeling the slick texture of his anticipation even in the water. “... and after that, I’m going to do it again, and Maker-willing, a third time after that if I have my way…” 

His eyebrows rose, but his eyes remained shut, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Aren’t we ambitious?” He purred, arcing up into her touch a little. “One can’t help but wonder what you’ll do after that…”

“Oh, find something to eat.” She answered matter-of-factly, entirely at the mercy of the rising heat between her thighs. “I expect I will have worked up quite an appetite, you see.” 

“It’s important to stay nourished,” Emmrich agreed, exhaling deeply as she continued to fondle him under the water. “That feels so good, darling…” 

“Good.” She smiled against his skin and kissed his temple. “Because that’s also part of my plan, broadly speaking: I’m going to make you feel amazing for the rest of our lives, Emmrich. Not a single sun will set on a day where you feel alone: your joys will be my joys, your sorrows my sorrows.”

His eyes opened at that and he regarded her with that soft look of utter adoration that he was so adept at. He stroked her cheek and she nuzzled into his long fingered hand. “My dear… that was quite possibly the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” 

“Delivered whilst pleasuring you no less.”

“You are beyond compare, darling Amina.” He sighed and lazily thrust up into her hand again. “And I daresay our respective plans indeed bear many similarities. I would even go so far as to say they align perfectly.” He sat forward and turned so he was face to face with her again, collecting her arms and drawing her close so their noses were almost touching. 

“Lucky me.” 

He traced each vertebrae of her spine with lithe fingers, bangles clinking together as they slipped down his arm one after the other, his hand finding the curve of her rear and drawing their centres even closer together. She positively ached with need for him as he cradled her face and kissed her deeply, unabashedly exploring her mouth and tasting her with a dominance she was not anticipating. When they parted her lips and cheeks were flushed, her pupils blown wide. 

“I’m going to make a home with you, Rook - that is my plan.” 

Amina considered him - his intelligent bottle green eyes inches from hers, their breath shared, their bodies practically flush. Despite how lust-addled her exhausted brain was, tears returned to her, driven by the sheer depth of Emmrich’s ambitions for them: A home. A life together and all that could come with it if she only dared to dream it - her: the Necropolis foundling who never felt like she truly belonged anywhere or mattered to anyone beyond the basic charity of some.

“We need to hurry up and finish with this bath,” she rasped, her voice low to keep it steady. “I need you. I need you now.” She crushed her lips to his hungrily and breathed, “I love you.” 

What immediately followed was a frenzy of soap and bubbles and water splashing over the tile floor as they finished scrubbing each other down with much less sensual flair than before. The plunger was pulled from the bottom of the tub and they towelled off as it drained, pausing intermittently to passionately embrace. 

“I never thought I could be this happy,” she panted, rising on her tip-toes to pepper his jawline with kisses. 

“Nor I,” Emmrich concurred. He turned her head and buried his nose in her neck, sucking a rosy mark onto her skin, unable to help himself as her hands roamed. He snaked his arm around her waist and hoisted her aloft, racing for the bedroom, her legs tight around him, her entire being coursing with the anticipatory thrill of their imminent union. 

He placed her on the bed with a tenderness that contrasted heavily with the urgency of their flight from the bathroom and prowled over the bed towards her, the inherent grace of his body setting her heart aflame as he splayed one hand over her lower belly and slid her leg aside with the other, opening her like the cherished pages of a beloved tome. He looked positively sinful between her legs, his hair dishevelled and dripping rivulets of water down his neck and shoulders. 

Her breath hitched at the feeling of his lips against her, the soft tickle of his moustache over the sensitive skin at the peak of her thighs. “Ohhh…”

His eyes were locked on hers. He parted her with his fingers, dipped his head, and —

Thump-thump-thump.

Of course there was someone at the door. 

Amina heaved a massive sigh and dragged her hands through her hair in exasperation. She’d seen Emmrich annoyed before - or at least she thought she had - but the look on his face now was one of primly murderous intent: the face of a man whose nearly boundless patience was being sorely tested in this moment. The expression softened, though, when he looked back to her and said, “I’ll see to it, darling - I shan’t take long.” He placed his lips sweetly against her swollen bud - a parting kiss - before sliding from the bed. 

He quickly donned an elegant paisley dressing gown that he snatched from the wardrobe, and Amina knew he would never have considered helping himself to someone else’s things under normal circumstances, but his clothes were in a filthy heap on the bathroom floor, and while they had all grown quite close during their time together, Emmrich preferred to keep some things private. 

She propped her head on her hand and stifled a giggle as he walked past a shelf, flung out an arm, grabbed a book without looking, and arranged it in front of him in such a way that it concealed his prominent arousal. She couldn’t tell who was outside as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, so she let her head fall to the pillow and rolled onto her back. It was a very comfortable bed: soft pillows, expensive linens.

Terribly comfortable. 

Weeks of broken sleep caught up with her all at once as she fought to keep her eyes open: she was so tired all of a sudden. 

So incredibly, inescapably tired…

If Lucanis had drawn any conclusions about the reason for his state of dress or his wet hair, he kept them to himself but for the briefest arching of a brow as he handed Emmrich the tray of toasted cheese sandwiches and bid him a long and restful night of sleep. Emmrich wished him the same and watched the Crow disappear back down the stairs before retreating into the room and locking the door again.

“Lucanis managed to scrape together–” he looked towards the bed and paused: Amina was sleeping soundly on top of the comforter, her face peaceful and unvexed: a rare sight indeed. Something in his chest pulled as he watched her even, deep breaths, her mouth slightly open as she slumbered. 

He set down the sandwiches and the book very carefully on the console table, not daring to make any noise that might startle her awake before making his way over to the bed and positioning her under the blankets with the same amount of care, manoeuvring her battered and scarred legs so she was covered and warm.

She had such plans for the evening, but as he shed the dressing gown and slipped into the bed alongside her, he was grateful that she had found rest at last: they had the rest of their lives to make love.

The veilfire light in the room was snuffed with a wave, and as he curled around her in the dark, losing himself in the scent of her, he found his own respite in the rhythm of her heart beneath his hand and the unpromised gift of tomorrow. 

[telanadasvhenan]

Solas, Lavellan and Home

I've been thinking again, unfortuantely, about solavellan and the idea of home. I read an extraordinary think piece regarding Solas & Leaving by @/gangrelslut that everyone should go read because it is BEAUTIFULLY written & has changed the way I see him, and it's made me consider what home is to Solas.

Solas only mentions his past in brief, vague sentences. A village long lost to time, barely ruins, was his birth place. But it is not home. What we know about Solas is surprisingly so little that most is speculation, but i like to believe that to him, People are home. I don't mean specific people either, but the concept of them. The feeling of community, of togetherness and love, that is home. He has been a leader, of a rebellion and a saviour. He lives his life for others, specifically, the Elvhen. They are his home, where his feet take him and where he finds his peace. And they are gone. Lost. Barely ruins.

There is no physical place for Solas to return to, yes because Arlathan fell, but because the people are gone. All he knows, that love, the community and the connection, is gone. He can never go home and how could he? What could compare in his adoration and commitment to his people, so much that he destroyed them for it. Cole is somewhat a foil to Solas sometimes: Compassion is precious and far too uncommon, but it can kill without mercy. Solas, like cole, did not know his actions were wrong until it was too late. His love killed his home.

Then there is Lavellan, Dalish and far from home. It is interesting that for the Dalish, their home is so similar to Solas'. Home is the people, the love. It is not so much a place but a tangible thread to keep you connected. She knows what it is to miss and ache for a people, and what it is to find comfort in that home, even if you cannot be there.

This is purely my own feelings now but I like to believe that Solas first felt home once more when he met Lavellan. She is wise, wonderful and open minded. She reflects his favourite colours of the world and sings like the morning birds he'd forgotten the song for. She is real. What must it be, to feel a connection after years of slumber, only to awaken to a horrific tragedy? She wraps her love around his pinkie finger and kisses his knuckle. Vhenan. Heart. Home. Elven as a language is inherently poetic there is something striking about the simple meaning of the word. You are my home. In that grove, crestwood, where he almost gives in, you can see the ache and yearning in his eyes. It is so clear, to me at least, that he wishes to confide in her and allow himself that, to allow himself a home once more.

But lessons are lessons, and Solas knows to learn them. He is wisdom as much as he is pride, and in that moment he falters. He lies about his intentions, and sees Lavellan for what she is and what she could be to him. Lavellan could be his home, but what would he do to it? "There is only Death on this Journey. I would not have you see what I become." In trespasser, Solas tells us of what he is and what he became for his people, and what he will become for them yet. How could he call her home, knowing what he is and what he must do? What cruelty could he conjure, kissing her and promising her heart whilst his hands are bloody for a home he can never truly forget?

The people need him. The love between them is there and it matters. But it is not enough. Lavellan cannot be his home. Look at what he did to the last.

[bloedewir]

Don't want to get my hopes up because there's almost zero chance to know the truth but...

I really REALLY would like to know everything about elvhen rebellion.

How did Fen'Harel manage to succeed? I mean, there's 8 evanuris, Mythal is out, so it's 7. Seven most powerful mages called gods. How did he trapped them? How did he trick all of them? Someone must've helped to achieve it. And it wasn't the slaves he freed. Who? Forgotten Ones? And then what.. he tricked and trapped them too but not in the Fade but in the Abyss? So it wasn't just one great plan but two in one? Double strike??

And why does it remind me of a chess move called castling? (I'll mention it in the end).

Not trying to be rude here but we already had: Corypheus and the orb (confirmed fail), Vows & Vengeance (fail under question) and Veilguard prologue ritual (either fail or cunning plan). No offence, Fen'Harel, buddy, but it's messy anyway, not in the slightest impeccable. And defeating 7 godlike evanuris is something different. Something like that requires to be perfectly planned.

Not to mention creating the Veil. The idea itself is a novel concept. How did he end up with this? Just woke up one day and: "Hm, why wouldn't I create a thing that will separate Fade from the reality? Seems like a good idea. Ambitious". How much power did he possess to change the whole world? Where did he take it from? How did he create a prison no one of seven could escape or break? How did he trapped Forgotten Ones? Why did he end up as the most powerful of them all? All alone?? HOW???

It's either Deus ex machina and we'll never know or bad news for Rook because Fen'Harel isn't trapped at all and it's just a part of a bigger plan that remains to be seen.

And here I go back to start and mention the castling. The only move in chess that allows somebody to move two pieces simultaneously - King and Rook. (It keeps King safe and quickly develops Rook).

22 days left

[mythalism]

im normally not one to defend this asshole because a lot of the criticism of solas is great and valid but i need ppl to stop acting like solas is bringing down the veil to bring back arlathan because he believes it’s “better”.

solas does not romanticize or idealize arlathan. his goal of bringing down the veil has absolutely nothing to do with arlathan being morally superior to present thedas. most likely, his goal has nothing to do with restoring the empire of arlathan at all, and rather is about reversing the damage the veil did to his People- elves, maybe. spirits, more likely.

he is vocally critical of elvhenan as an empire on several occasions. he literally tells dorian not to romanticize it and compares its corruption and depravity to TEVINTER:

he also literally orchestrated a slave rebellion and threw a coup?????

he exhibits some nostalgia, maybe, for things like architectural marvels and of course the magic, but to act like solas ignores the reality of the political corruption of elvhenan and wears rose colored glasses, dreaming about ripping the veil apart and letting everyone die to create a perfect elven utopia just like the last one? it’s a major disservice to his character.

if i were to speculate, id guess that there’s far more to his motivations than we even know at this point, most likely (definitely) regarding the blight, considering how heavily implied it is that he created the veil to contain it, and that that also majorly plays into his need to bring down the veil regardless of the potential loss of life, but since it’s speculative ill can it for now.

regardless, the whole point is that it wasn’t perfect, elvhenan was deeply flawed, but it’s not about the empire, it’s about his People and his personal responsibility to atone for what he did to them. in trespasser he does not say he will bring back arlathan or elvhenan. he says “i will save the elvhen people”. whether you think he’s right or wrong isn’t really relevant (it’s relevant to your own playthrough and relationship to the narrative, of course, but not to the greater themes of the story), it’s not about right or wrong, or whether or not one society was more just or “better” than the other.

even a low-approval solas who HATES your inquisitor and tells a human inquisitor that they proved him right about their people being small-minded and crude will still approve when you help the refugees in the hinterlands and when you leave flowers at an old womans grave. he will still develop respect for cassandra, a friendship with varric. he still plays 4d mind chess with the iron bull to cheer him up. he will still tell blackwall that he will remember the people of the inquisition for their courage:

solas is not weighing thedas versus elvhenan on the metaphorical scales of justice and finding elvhenan worthier of existence, and destroying the other. he is a man who loved his people and in trying to save them, he made a mistake that doomed them, and feels he has to make it right, no matter the cost.

solas’s is not the story of a god making judgement calls on the worthiness of those beneath him, finding them lacking, and condemning them to death. it is a story of a man who has completely lost himself to the enormity of his guilt. it is a story of well-intentioned mistakes, of impossible choices and who has to shoulder them, of losing your personhood for a cause you believe in, of whether or not the ends justify the means, of accountability versus complacency, of progress versus stagnancy, of the role of violence in radical progress, of absolution of guilt, and of loneliness. right or wrong doesnt matter - he knows it's wrong and suggests the process will turn him into a monster. but its not about right or wrong, its about a man alone on an island, who can’t bring himself to surrender, who can't help but fight, knowing it all might end with him.

[kcwriter-blog]

An Argument in Favor of Solas as the Family Dog

It’s been posited, sometimes facetiously, that Solas was the “family dog” in his younger days. It’s a theory I have been kicking around for a while. If I’m right (and I’m probably not) Solas as the equivalent to the family dog makes a lot of sense – especially when it comes to what he has done in the past and what he plans to do in the future.

My theory is based on the number and positioning of the many Fen’Harel statues found throughout Thedas and in some of the places our Inquisitor travels to in Trespasser. There’s also the odd role wolves seem to play in Elven cuture. Finally, there is Solas’ personality. More under the cut.

We see statues of wolves all over the place but generally they are found in front of ancient Elvhen sites. There are statues at the Temple of Mythal, the Temple of Dirthamon and the grove in Crestwood. I also recently found one near Ghilan’nain’s grove. We see a lot of wolf statues in the Dales (we will get to the Emerald Knight companion thing, presently). Given that Fen’Harel was a rebel in ancient times and the equivalent of the Dalish devil in current day Thedas, what gives? Why all the statues? At the very least they should have been destroyed when he rebelled. It doesn’t make sense.

Let’s look at the positioning of the statues. Invariably we see a reclining wolf placed outside what we’ll call the inner sanctuary. That is, they are always at the front before you go into the place you would pray or make your offerings. It’s not a stretch to believe these statues are guarding the temples. We also see wolf statues placed all over the Vir Dirthara. That’s an even weirder place to see them because Solas implies that he isn’t called Fen’Harel until after his rebellion – so why a statue and why one in a guardian position? We do see howling wolves sometimes. They are mostly seen decorating eluvians. Again, they seem to be guarding or protecting something.

Moving along, we learn about the wolf companions the Emerald Knights have. This is also odd. Why wolves? Fen’Harel is theoretically a Trickster God and responsible for locking up the other gods. Usually, when a culture equates a god with negative attributes, people are wary around the animal representing it. Not in this case. These are guardian wolves and there are statues of them all over the Dales. I don’t think all the statues are of wolf companions. Many of the wolf statues are carved into mountainsides and they are gigantic. It would take a long time to create those without magic. And let’s not forget the statues we see underneath waterfalls in Watcher’s Reach and the Exalted Plains. They should be worn away by the water but aren’t. Watcher’s Reach is an old Elven ruin. Magic presumably keeps them from being worn down. Why? Because Fen’Harel is guarding the Dales.

Fen’Harel as guardian can also be seen in Dalish practice. A statue of Fen’Harel is always placed outside the camp to guard against demons. Given that he is thought of as practically a demon himself, this is again, weird behavior.

The stories we hear about him in Masked Empire are also interesting, particularly the Slow Arrow. In it, a village is beset by a monster. The other gods refuse to help so they turn to Fen’Harel. He answers their prayers by showing up. He realizes he can’t defeat the monster. He is then presented with a hard choice. He can attempt to kill it, even though he knows he will probably die and if that happens so will everyone in the village, or he can do something clever and save some of them. So, he launches the slow arrow. The monster comes, kills the adults but dies before it can kill the children. This is in keeping with Solas’ fairly pragmatic personality. It also illustrates that Fen’Harel, out of all the gods, even Mythal is always willing to come to the aid of the People.

So, what can we make of this? I believe Fen’Harel was and still is tasked with protecting the People. In a sense he fulfills the position of an Aavar hold beast. How did this happen? I’m not sure. Mythal could have called him out of the Fade with the purpose of protecting the People during the war with the Titans. His spirit could have been bound to a giant wolf. In the Deep Roads there is a codex that indicates depictions of Mythal were found alongside those of Fen’Harel. We know spirits can be reborn. If the giant wolf fell in battle, it might have been reborn and placed in an Elvhen body. Was it a body of it’s own or did it share a body in a similar fashion to Anders and Justice?

Solas as guardian of the People fits in other ways. If he wasn’t one of the Evanuris, he would have been part of the inner circle. He has some very nice castles and talks about missing court intrigue. He had status. If he wasn’t one of the Evanuris, serving as their guard dog would give him that status

Also, in the library, the spirits replay the final days of the elves when the Veil goes up. They are shocked that Fen’Harel would do something like this. Why? He’s been rebelling for a while so why the surprise? Maybe because he’s supposed to protect The People, not hurt them.

What could have happened? As the Evanuris became more corrupt they began hurting the People. They enslaved them, used them for experiments, hunted them and sacrificed them. If your purpose is to protect the People, what do you as a spirit do?

We see how Cole is diverted from his purpose as a spirit of Compassion into a spirit who performs mercy killings. He’s not the exact opposite of Compassion but he isn’t fulfilling his purpose either. A spirit with a body seems to be more complex. It’s not so binary. If Solas was a bound spirit, the only way to protect his charges might be to do what he did.

Fast-forward to the present day. He wakes up, sees how his people are treated and feels duty-bound to do what he can to save them. In this case by tearing down the Veil. It could be seen as a compulsion.

I’ve probably missed a ton of other evidence but in my opinion, all signs point to Solas at one time being the Protector of the People whose purpose was then twisted. I’d be interested in knowing what other people think. 

[rosella-writes]

solavellan rivalmance things

since I'm replaying Virelan's file and she and Solas are actively hostile to one another in Haven, I thought I'd write up my idea of how it'd go if the da2 rivalmance system stayed in place and was better

the only two elves at the heart of chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion for how long? surrounded by people who assume they'd get along by nature of their matching ears? just adds insult to injury that Varric jokes about their conflict from the very first instant they speak (they're not Fenris and Merrill, Varric, please I'm begging)

they're drawn together by familiarity that's on this side of wrong, more willing to sit together and fight than be alone and at peace

the nights grow longer and so do their arguments, which turn into debates, which turn into stories, until it's almost dawn and neither of them have slept

Lavellan calls him 'flat ear' — he curses them in elvhen so old that their Dalish dialect can't parse it apart

Lavellan clings to Dalish tradition and prays the prayers every morning in camp, just to spy Solas regarding them with something like pity, or grief

he corrects their elvhen pronunciation and grammar — they call him 'hahren (derogatory)'

"I saw it in the —" "Elgar'nan, we know!"

Lavellan dismisses blood magic as evil and spirits as non-persons but they keep asking questions, more and more questions, and Solas isn't sure if they're asking because they're curious or because they want to mock him

he doesn't stop answering though

Lavellan notices at first that he only looks at their vallaslin when he speaks to them... and by the time they close the Breach, he glares into their eyes

Lavellan protects him, like they promised, and they shout at him to be more careful

Solas heals their wounds and scolds them under his breath… but it sounds suspiciously like worry

Lavellan tells Solas to go when Corypheus attacks Haven, pushes him towards the Pilgrim’s Path and doesn’t let him follow as they distract the dragon alone

He searches for them in the snow in the aftermath, a mournful, enraged wolf howling in the storm — why could they not have listened?

Lavellan’s alive

The sensible choice is to lead them to his home, his heart, where he held the sky back — he feels it too as Skyhold falls in love with Lavellan and their Inquisition

They find him in a dream, and things are easier for him in the Fade

“You’re the one who started with tongue” “I did no such thing!”

I mean I could go on lol

[hoboblaidd]

The Agents of Fen'harel

Before Veilguard comes out, I wanted to break down Solas' spy network in the Dragon Age. I am only focused on the modern age, and on mortal (or immortal elvhen) agents. I'm not discussing spirits, but suffice to say, spirits are a crucial part of his network. This is a very long post, so strap in.

Ancient Elvhen

We know based on Felassan that Solas had agents even before he woke up. I think it’s safe to assume that these agents were ancient elves because Solas believed until Inquisition that modern elves weren’t ‘people.’ I don’t know how many are still alive and kicking. They located his orb and manipulated the Venatori to find it.

It’s possible these agents were just regular modern people of course, but I’m leaning towards no. He has too much prejudice at the start of DAI to trust modern elves.

The Sentinels

Given his regard for 'true' elves, the sentinels (and any other ancient elves kicking about) are likely Solas' closest and most trusted agents. Solas recruited the surviving sentinels soon after, if not during, Inquisition. His brief conversation with Abelas was, in my opinion, a coded recruitment:

“There are other places, friend. Other duties. Your people yet linger.” “Elvhen such as you?” “Yes, such as I.” “Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas.” Bro nod of acknowledgement.

Elves, at least ancient elves, took on new names or titles in much the same way the Dalish now take vallaslin. Offering Abelas a new name is, imo, offering him a new purpose. This later with Dorian:

Dorian: There could be others, in ruins we haven't yet discovered. Shouldn't we be looking for them? Solas: Perhaps Abelas will do that. Dorian: I wonder if that's a good thing.

I think that's exactly what Abelas did, so by the time Corypheus was done and Mythal's power absorbed, Solas could rendezvous with the last of his People and start his endgame.

Inquisition servants/agents

Leliana is smart enough to view any new recruit with suspicion, especially as Solas "stays one step ahead" of all of her efforts to find him. So logically, his spies were those elves already embedded with the Inquisition before he left. I've talked about his recruitment of servants before, but I think he also recruited several of Leliana's elven agents. 

Flipping spies into double agents is a well-established art in the real world. It is a slow, careful process of untangling old allegiances and rewiring them with your own ideology until they essentially ask to be flipped. As the leader of a rebellion, Solas would have tons of experience trying to do this with evanuris loyalists. He knows what works and what doesn't, where to push and when to back off. Solas had a year to work on Leliana's spies during Inquisition and I think he started on day 1. It was incredibly subtle and careful. By the end of Inquisition, I don't think they all jumped ship to his side, but they'd have trusted him enough that if he or a friendly elf approached them, they'd offer to help his cause. For those who didn't outright turn, he still utilizes as sources of HUMINT - intelligence gathered from people within an organization who are spying for you but not generally taking actions on your behalf.

After Trespasser, and regardless of whether or not the Inquisition is disbanded, his Inquisition spies are probably burned since Solas stupidly told the Inquisitor he had them. Leliana would logically not trust most of her elven agents except those like Charter who proved themselves a thousand times over. 

Did he tell the Inquisitor on purpose? Eh. He admitted to Charter that his monologuing in Trespasser was a momentary weakness. At most, he probably shifted to the few non-elven agents he still has in Leliana's network since they're less suspicious.

City and enslaved elves

For those who could escape alienages, slums, and masters, the Dread Wolf is a natural place to rally around. He is promising (and can seemingly deliver) worldwide change to better the lot of the elves. He accepts all elves, and doesn't get into the stupid 'flat ear' bullshit the Dalish have. He is, in essence, what the disenfranchised elves always believed the Dalish to be. I also hope that Solas, when doing shit around Thedas these past 12 years, liberates elves where he can. Never at the risk of jeopardizing his goals of course, but on an ad hoc basis at least.

Of all things that might make them hesitant to join is his unrestricted magic, and yes, I'm taking a lot of this from Fenris. It's an incredibly logical fear and distrust to have for people enslaved in Tevinter, but also for most elves raised in a Chantry world. It's not like they had access to a great education or academic discourse on the pros and cons of magic aside from the propaganda the Chantry has fed them. Solas could try to assuage their concerns, but it'd be a lot to slowly show them that his use of magic is different and that magic is itself not a bad thing - because when the Veil comes down, they're probably going to get that magical connection back (if they survive it).

Special mention goes to Briala and her agents. They had access to a portion of the eluvians using Fen'harel Enansal as a password. They fight a covert war for elven freedom in Orlais. They are, as Felassan said, very much like the Dread Wolf and his rebellion. They could be natural additions to his agents, but it's complicated by the whole Felassan of it. Solas would accept Briala's agents with no question, but idk where Briala would fall. We also don't know how Solas got control of her section of the eluvians aside from him overriding the magic personally, but he probably just cartwheeled into the Crossroads and literally overrode the magic. I don't think he'd have needed to kill her or anything for them. RP-wise, I'm willing to go any way, all options are logical to me.

The Dalish

The Dalish are trickier. They are founded around two beliefs: (1) never again shall we submit to slavery, and (2) the ancient power of the elves as they understand it should be upheld/restored. On the one hand, a powerful elf with a concrete plan that would see that elves will not only never have to submit to masters but also restore the world of the elves at the time of the fall of Arlathan is exactly what the Dalish want. But on the other hand, it's the Dread Wolf making these promises. They're going to have to get really cool with a lot of stuff really fast. How do you undo millennia of propaganda praising tyrannical gods and demonizing the one asking you to join him?

The Dalish are not a monolith, and I think whether or not they're recruited is on an individual basis or, at most, one Clan or another. The devs said that both Davrin and Bellara will have Thoughts about Solas-Fen'harel. This sort of religious division probably plays out amongst every Dalish elf that hears the Dread Wolf is back. Some who might take the old tales as more apocryphal than gospel truth would likely be more willing to join Fen'harel, while others who are zealous will likely not.

Solas does have an advantage of his true identity being revealed in Trespasser. For the first time, well, ever, the Dalish have definitive proof that one of their 'gods' is real, walking the earth, andpromising to do what they've wanted the gods to do. There's got to be a level of curiosity except in the most devout. It's like if Maferath showed up in Orlais. The Chantry maligns him, but you know there'd be a good amount of priests and people like 'yeah but I want to talk to him because holy shit'. 

Non-elven agents

Yes, I think he has some non-elven agents because it's a smart strategy, but I think he chooses and uses them sparingly. He can't limit himself to one stream of intel. First, elves can go a lot of places, but they can't go everywhere. Second, after divulging to the Inquisitor that he has spies in the Inquisition, elves would be the most suspected.

The most numerous are likely defectors or converts from the Qun - their ideology parallels Fen'harel's enough that they'd be reasonably trustworthy.

Qunari - I think he’d use actual Qunari spies sparingly. He’s wary of the Qun and he’d need agents who can live and operate in that world without actually being dogmatic. For example, a Tal Vasoth qunari won’t give him insight into the Antaam’s movements, but an elven ‘convert’ who is essentially a double agent could report to him on the Antaam’s business.

Humans - I think the majority of human spies don't know exactly who they're reporting to. He probably has a network of increasingly trustworthy humans that he props up as puppet actors that these folks report to, and uses other ideologies to entice them to spy (i.e., Freedom for all Tevinter; Peasants in Orlais; etc.).

Dwarves - Dwarven society is generally somewhere elves really can't go without standing out. He needs to know what's shaking with Orzammar and Kal Sharok (and the Carta), and elves are going to be limited. Given the castes, dwarf commoners are probably far more likely to be recruited, but again, he'd treat Dwarven spies exactly as he treats human spies - under the shell idea of A Casteless Society.

[queenaeducan]

If people are experiencing Elvhen Rebellion feelings and Felassan feelings, may I recommend:

Comrades in Arms, Brothers in Broken Chains by @dreadfutures

Pairing: Felassan & Agent(s) of Fen'Harel

Characters: Felassan, Geldauran, Agent(s) of Fen'Harel

"Faith is what leads the weak to follow false gods," Geldauran snapped. "Faith is for those who have no trust in their own nobility, and strength. We would do well to cast it off, as we all should cast off our chains!"

"Ah, but it is faith that led us here." Felassan smiled. "What can compel a slave to stand against a god, if not faith in oneself, and in each other, above all?"

Written for me and @rosella-writes as a gift for the Arlathan Exchange! Still one of my fave rebellion era fics 🥺

[petchic101]

DA Elvish

I separated all of Dragon Age's known Elvish into Nouns, idioms ect

Nouns

Titles/Types of people/Groups

Anaris: – according to an old tale, he was once tricked by Fen'Harel while dueling the Great Hunter Andruil

Andruil: Goddess of the Hunt is the elven Goddess of the Hunt, known also as "blood and force" and the "great hunter."

Arlathvhen: Meeting of the Dalish clans that occurs every ten years. Means "for love of the people."

Asha'bellanar: "The Woman of Many Years." How the Dalish refer to Flemeth.

Da'len: Little child; little one.

Daern'thal: Known Forgotten One

Din: The dead.

Dirthamen: Keeper of Secrets, is the twin brother of Falon'Din and is the elven god of secrets and knowledge, and master of the ravens Fear and Deceit. Dirthamen gave to elves the gift of knowledge and taught them loyalty and faith in family.

Elgar: Spirit.

Dirth'ena enasalin: "Knowledge that led to victory"; the Elvish term for the Arcane Warrior or, more recently, Knight Enchanter disciplines.

Durgen’len: Children of the stone; the Ancient Elvish term for the dwarves.

Elgar'nan: God of Vengeance also known as the All-Father, the Eldest of the Sun and He Who Overthrew His Father—represents fatherhood and vengeance, and leads the pantheon with the goddess Mythal.

Elvhen: Elven name for their own race; our people.

Elvhenan: The name of the elven civilization before the arrival of humans in Thedas; the place of our people.

Era'harel: Demon-mage; similar to an arcane horror.

Evanuris: Leader; Translated by Dorian in context as "mage leader"; what the elvhen called their gods.

Falon: Friend.

Falon'Din: Friend of the Dead, the Guide is the elven God of Death and Fortune and guides the dead to the Beyond. He and his twin brother, Dirthamen, are the eldest children of Elgar'nan the All-Father and Mythal the Protector.

Fen'Harel: The Dread Wolf is an enigmatic trickster god of the elves, whose supposed betrayal of both the benevolent Creators and the malefic Forgotten Ones is the only explanation most elves have for the destruction of Arlathan. Dalish clans view him with wariness and seek to protect themselves and their kin from his treachery. It is revealed by Solas in Mythal's temple that this could be a misinterpretation by the Dalish and instead he was the god of rebellion.

Geldauran: Known Forgotten One

Ghilan'nain: Mother of the Halla is called the Mother of the halla—white deer-like creatures revered by the Dalish and used to pull their aravel, or "landships"—and goddess of navigation.

Ghil-Dirthalen: "One who guides seekers of knowledge true."

Ghilan'him banal'vhen: "The path that leads astray": a derogatory term for Arcane Warriors among those elves who eschewed physical combat.

Hahren'al: A gathering of hahrens during the Arlathvhen.

Hahren: Elder; used as a term of respect by the Dalish as well as by city elves for the leader of an alienage.

Harillen: Opposition.

June: God of the Craft is the elven Master of Crafts. He is variously described either as a brother to Andruil and Sylaise or as Sylaise's husband. He taught the elves to make bows, arrows, and knives to hunt Andruil's gifts.

Lethallin/Lethallan/Lethallen: Casual reference used for someone with whom one is familiar; generally, lethallin is used for males while lethallan is used for females; lethallen has been stated to be the appropriate gender neutral term unless otherwise stated later in canon, though it is likely to remain the same. Note: Though "lethallin" is usually used for males and "lethallan" for females, as stated above

Lethanavir: Another appellation of Falon'Din the elven god of death and fortune who guides the dead to the Beyond.

Mien'harel: Rebellion; depending on the interpretation, a violent call for justice; a concept that when humans push the elven population too far they must remind them that even a "short blade" must be respected; most commonly a term used by city elf.

Mythal: the Great Protector, the Protector and the All-Mother, and goddess of love, is the patron of motherhood and justice and leads the pantheon with her male counterpart, Elgar'nan.

Shemlen: The original name elves use for the human race; continues to see use as a slang term amongst the City Elves ("shems") even though its meaning has largely been lost; literally "quick children".

Somniari: Dreamer.

Sylaise: the Hearthkeeper is the goddess of all the domestic arts and the sister of Andruil the Huntress. Sylaise gave the elves fire, and taught them how to weave rope and thread, and to use herbs and magic for healing purposes.

Vhenallin: Friends of the People.

Nature

Adahl/Adhal: Tree.

Adahlen: Wood.

Alas: Earth, dirt.citation needed

Dahl'amythal: Tree of Mythal from which Dalish Keepers’ staves are cut.

Durgen: Stone.citation needed

Elgara: Sun.

Felandaris: Demon weed.

Vallas: Set, as in the setting of the sun.

Vallasdahlen: Trees planted in remembrance of those who dedicated their lives to the Dalish kingdom that grew into a mighty wood; life-trees.

Vhenadahl: The tree of the people.

Vhen'alas: The land itself, as in "the ground"; literally "our earth".citation needed

Vunin: Day.

Animal

Fen: Wolf.

Hallas: are a type of horned stag; some are herded by the Dalish—who use them to pull their aravels, or landships. Their milk is also made into cheese and butter.[2] The Dalish do not consider them beasts of burden but noble companions. To get them to accompany a clan, the Dalish elves ask rather than force them to.

Hanal'ghilan: Elven name for the mythical golden halla said by the Dalish to appear during times of great need; the pathfinder.

Body/Self

Banal'ras: Shadow.

Renan: Voice.

Taren: Mind.

Vallaslin: Blood writing; The art of tattooing adopted by some elves to more prominently display their worship of the traditional elven pantheon.

Vhenan: Heart; often used as a term of endearment.

Concept

Abelas: Sorrow; to be sorry.

Aravel: A wagon used by the Dalish; also a physical and spiritual path, a journey with purpose. Humans call them "landships."

Atish’an: Peace.

Athim: Humility.

Bellanaris: Eternity.

Din'an: Death; end.

Din'anshiral: A journey of death.

Dirth: A term for knowledge or secrets; tell; speak.citation needed

Enasalin: Victory.

Enansal: Blessing.

Enaste: Favor.

Halani: Help.

Hamin: Rest.

Harellan: Trickster; used by the Dalish to mean "traitor to one's kin".

Melana: Time.

Melanada: All time. 

Melava: Time;

Revas: Freedom.

Shiral: Journey.

Sulahn'nehn: Rejoice; joy.

Sulevin: Purpose.

Vir: Way; we.

Weapons/Equipment

Assan: Arrow.

Bor'assan: Bow.

Felassan: Slow arrow.

Mi: Blade.citation needed

Places

Arlathan: The major city of Elvhenan, original homeland of the elves; from the phrase "ar lath’an" meaning, "This place of love".

Banalhan: A name for the Blight or its place of origin; the place of nothing.

Dirthavaren: The promise; the Elven name for the Exalted Plains.

Halamshiral: The capital of the second elven homeland in the Dales; the end of the journey.

Setheneran: Land of waking dreams; a place where the Veil is thin.

Tarasyl'an Te'las: The place where the sky was held back; Ancient Elven name for Skyhold.

Vhenas: Home.

Vir'abelasan: The place of the way of sorrows; refers to the Well of Sorrows.

Other

Aravel: A wagon used by the Dalish; also a physical and spiritual path, a journey with purpose. Humans call them "landships."

Banalhan: A name for the Blight or its place of origin; the place of nothing.

Elgar'arla: Spirit-trap; a binding circle to hold a spirit or demon.

Eluvian: Mirror; literally "seeing glass."

Mi'durgen: Diamond; literally 'blade stone'.

Adjective

Eth: Safe.citation needed

Mirthadra: Honored.

Sa: One; one more.

Shem: Quick.

Tan: Three.

Then: Awake; alert.citation needed

Verb

Abelas: Sorrow; to be sorry.

Dirth: A term for knowledge or secrets; tell; speak.citation needed

Dirthara: Learn;

Dirthera: To tell tales.

Enfenim: To fear.

Ghilana: To guide.

Ghilas: To go.

Harel: To trick or deceive;

Him: Become.

Las: Grant; give.

Lasa ghilan: Grant/give guidance.

Lath: Love of being; to be in love.

Numin: Cry.

Nuvenin: Say, as in “as you say”.

Samahl: Laugh.

Somniar: To dream.

Sulahn'nehn: Rejoice; joy.

Sulahn: Sing.

Uthenera: The name of the ancient practice of immortal elves who would "sleep" once they tired of life; immortal; waking sleep; literally "eternal waking dream".citation needed

Pronoun

Ar: First person pronoun; I, me.

Mala: Your.

Mir: My.

Var: Our.

Vir: Way; we.

Ect

Banal: Never.

Dar: To be.citation needed

In: In.

Ir: I am.

Iras: Where.

Irassal: Wherever.

La: And.

Na: Is.

Pre/Suffix

-an: Suffix indicating place or location.

Da: Diminutive prefix; small.

Idioms

Andaran atish’an: "Enter this place in peace." A formal elven greeting.

Aneth ara: A sociable or friendly greeting, more commonly used among the Dalish themselves rather than with outsiders.

Ara seranna-ma: A way to excuse oneself, such as after a sneeze or belch.

Banal nadas: Nothing is known for certain./Not necessarily.

Boranehn: Lost joy.

Dareth shiral: farewell; literally "Safe journey."

Enasal: Joy in triumph over loss; a variation of joyful relief.

Falon’Din enasal enaste: A prayer for the dead.

Fen'Harel enansal: The Dread Wolf's blessing.

Fen'Harel ma ghilana: "Dread Wolf guides you." Indicates someone being misled.

Halam'shivanas: The sweet sacrifice of duty.

Hellathen: Noble struggle.

Ir abelas: I am sorry.

Lathbora viran: Roughly translated as "the path to a place of lost love," a longing for a thing one can never really know.

Nadas: Inevitability; something that must be; used as an expression of obligation, i.e. "must".

Ma nuvenin: As you say.

Ma vhenan: My heart; sometimes shortened simply to vhenan, "heart"; a term of endearment.

Ma serannas: My thanks./Thank you.

Mana. Ma halani: Help me. 

Mythal'enaste: Mythal's favor.

Penshra! Ghilas vellathan!: Politely translated as "I prefer that you remain close."

Revasan: The place where freedom dwells.

Sahlin: Now; is come.

Sa'vunin: One more day.

Solas: Pride; to stand tall.

Solasan: A prideful place.

Suledin: The concept of finding strength in enduring loss or pain; endure.

Tel'abelas: I'm not sorry.

Telanadas: Nothing is inevitable.

Var lath vir suledin!: Our love will endure

Vir enasalin!: We will win!

Vir sumeil: We are close.

Commands/Threats/Curses

Bellanaris Din'an Heem: "Make you dead."

Dirthara-ma: "May you learn." Used as a curse.

Fenedhis: Meaning officially undefined as of yet; a common curse.

Fenedhis lasa: Meaning officially undefined as of yet. A common curse.

Fen'Harel ma halam: "Dread Wolf ends you." A threat.

Garas: Come.

Garas quenathra: "Why are you here?/Why have you come?" Spoken by the voices of the Vir'abelasan

Masal din'an: A threat, meaning unknown.

Na abelas: You'll be sorry.

Na din'an sahlin!: Your death is come!

Na melana sahlin: Your time is come.

Specific Sentences

Ar lasa mala revas: "You are free." More literally "I give you your freedom."

Ar lath ma, vhenan: "I love you, heart/my heart"

Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris: Fen'Harel’s secret greeting. Meaning unknown.

Atish'all Vir Abelasan: "Enter the path of the Well of Sorrows."

Dirth ma banal. Mar solas ena mar din: "You have learned nothing. Your pride will be your death/downfall." A Dalish saying.

Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din: Roughly means: "Your pride is responsible for everything that has gone wrong; you will die alone."

Ir abelas, ma vhenan: "I am filled with sorrow for your loss, my heart."

Ir tel'him: I'm me again.

Ma banal las halamshir var vhen: You do nothing to further our people. 

Ma harel, da’len: You lie, child.

Ma harel lasa!: You lied to me.

Ma ghilana mir din'an: Guide me into death.

Ma melava halani: You helped me.

Mala suledin nadas: Now you must endure.

Malas amelin ne halam: I hope you find a new name.

Melana en athim las enaste: Now let humility grant favor.

Sulevin ghilana hanin: Roughly translates to "purpose guides to glory". This is an inscription on the back of the Dalish shield called "The Path to Glory".

Sylaise enaste var aravel. Lama, ara las mir lath. Bellanaris.: Dalish marriage vows.

Tel garas solasan: Come not to a prideful place.

[theharellan]

related to the last ask, but i've long headcanoned that solas wasn't his first and only name. i prefer to approach the nature of pride with a softer lens than the game, as i find the framing of "pride=bad" a very catholic/christian perspective that doesn't necessarily track with either the elves as a people or solas himself. there are aspects of his pride that are negative, certainly, not helped by his tendency to mirror. but it isn't something i like to wholly condemn. i think after mythal bid he take a body he was, essentially, nameless. he was what she needed, and changed accordingly. it was only after rallying the force that would become the rebellion that he took the name solas- pride, yes, but also elvhen for "to stand tall." which is what he tried to do during those years fighting the evanuris.

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

It’s fascinating the tiny world that we Solavellans have created. From FenxShiral’s fan made construction of Elvhen that we use extensively for Elvhen conversation to the various multiple yet all correct interpretations of Solas’s sexuality (the implicit agreement he is Bi/Pan/queer without anything really suggesting such in the canon. We can smell cut content that would designate a character as one of our own from a mile away), our ascription of him possessing wolf-like habits or tendencies despite that also not being anywhere in the canon (wolfish instincts, etc.), the agreement that Fen’Harel prior to the rebellion was a Loki-like manslut, and OF COURSE Dorian being the universal wingman to help prod Solas and Lavellan together.

It’s a community we’ve forged for ten years. I’m excited yet nervous about which of our collective hallucinations will manage to survive the new incoming canon.

[rosieofcorona]

Whats the name of your solavellan baby ??? 👀👀👀

his name is fenhala 🙂 i actually just made a little character sheet for him the other day so i can ref it for my fic (i'll paste a lil summary below for anyone interested): Fenhala "Fen" Lavellan Name meaning: last wolf, wolf's end Son of Solas and Inúril, conceived in the Fade during what was intended to be his parents' last meeting. A natural-born Dreamer, Fenhala is connected to the Fade through both the circumstances of his conception and his father's bloodline. He is close to his mother, but only vaguely aware of his father's identity. Only knows that his father is part of the current Elvhen rebellion, and does not consider him an outright enemy, per his mother's teaching. Quiet, thoughtful, and with his father's appearance, Fenhala is Inúril's favorite child, though she never says so.

[bloedewir]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard

After IGN dropped two videos I may have a guess

>>> this is a spoiler territory <<<

Memories

As we now know, players are going to explore the Crossroads and find Solas' memories and "relive" it. But how will it work? Murals.

In Trespasser DLC murals help to know a little about an elvhen rebellion story. It wasn't an actual game mechanic then but it could be now.

In IGN's "Get to Know Your Companions" video there's a discussion scene. Emmrich is speaking about murals that keep the memories Solas doesn't want to remember. It makes me think about IGN's "22 minutes of Gameplay" video. It seems Lighthouse has some erased/damaged murals. So maybe there will also be some kind of mechanic that allows the player to restore those murals to see what has been hidden and forgotten.

Maybe (just maybe) one of those murals is about Inquisitor and something that happened between them and Solas in the past decade. Some kind of unpleasant meeting or conflict?

(I don't accept the "we need people he doesn't know" answer anymore. Varric, himself, chased Solas all around Thedas running like a Wile E Coyote after a Roadrunner. What would've possibly stopped the Inquisitor to do the same?).

Doubts

Davrin said:

I guess, it's one of the main conflicts in the game. You will choose how to interpret the memories you found. For example, you may accept Solas' point of view: yes, his actions were necessary back in time of Elvhenan. Or you can disagree: no, the plan was horrible, Elgar'nan could've been defeated the other way. (The hell knows, maybe it even will be a scale of Rook/Solas relationship like in Cyberpunk'2077).

Devs often mention the connection between Rook and Solas and how it allows the player to build a relationship they want. It means, Rook will have a choice. You will have a choice.

But also I guess the game itself will make this choice difficult. John Epler already said Varric may change his mind and starts to question himself was it truly worth the efforts to put so much faith in Solas. I think the player will always be under the pressure: companions' opinions, their own unanswered questions (because Solas isn't capable to speak plainly as we know. It won't help Rook either), their own beliefs and life experience, etc. I'm almost sure the memories the player will collect is full of ambiguity. Not just white and black but mostly gray.

(I still don't get how it is even possible to make Solas look "villainous" if there's already Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain making the evanuris extravaganza but either way I'm interested).