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fenharelsfang · 20 days ago

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The Wolf's Heart (1/5)

The world was awash in a sea of blood, a crimson tide of red lyrium, the Blight, and the shadow of the forced solar eclipse. The smell of smoke and rotting flesh choked the air. People screamed in the city below the Archon’s palace. Darkspawn and other unholy creatures of the Blight stalked the streets, slaughtering anything in their path. Malevolent spirits flocked to the weakening Veil like moths to a flame, possessing any mage desperate enough to invite them in. The fear of death was a very strong motivator. In the sky, a monstrous Archdemon and a six-eyed wolf the size of a dragon fought a battle that shook the very heavens. Meanwhile, a swarm of Antaam soldiers and Venatori agents stormed the city and marched against the makeshift army of Grey Wardens, Veil Jumpers, Lords of Fortune, Antivan Crows, Mourn Watchers, Shadow Dragons, and Inquisition agents, all led by Rook, the man who inadvertently started these unfortunate chain of events.

All was not lost, though. They had successfully defeated and killed Ghilan’nain and now only Elgar’nan stood in the way. Well, Elgar’nan and Solas.

“Honestly, it doesn’t surprise me,” said Rook. He and the rest of the faction leaders were gathered around a grand oak table discussing their next steps. Neve Gallus, recently freed from Elgar’nan’s clutches, revealed to them that once the tyrannical god was defeated, the last of the Veil’s bindings would unravel and it would come crashing down. “Tearing down the Veil has been his goal since the very beginning. He already betrayed me once. It’s his whole schtick.”

“I’m still blown away by the fact that archdemons are just dragons bound to a bunch of magical elves and there were two of them flying around out here,” Warden-Commander Cousland remarked with a whistle. The effects of being a Grey Warden for the past twenty years had taken its toll on her. Her once rich auburn hair had dulled to light grey and dark purple bags sagged under her eyes. She was close to her Calling. The song of the Blight was getting difficult to block out. All those years of searching for a way to free Grey Wardens from their burden amounted to nothing. This last ditch effort to seal the Blight behind the Veil was her only salvation. She prayed it would be enough to quell the corruption in her blood. Once done, perhaps she could finally go home to her beloved King for good and enjoy their twilight years in peace. “And I thought my Blight was bad.”

“... I think I preferred Corypheus,” Hawke confessed, face ashen. She was still haunted by the horror the red lyrium she unearthed had unleashed. Now Varric was dead and Solas used blood magic to trick Rook into thinking he wasn’t. That was sick and twisted. The tale of the Evanuris needed to end and she’d be there to write that final chapter. It would end with their death.

“If anyone can stop Elgar’nan and Solas, it is the individuals gathered here,” Morrigan proclaimed with an air of confidence. She had met each of these heroes, these paragons of light and hope, and helped steer the tides of fate so that they would succeed.

“We know how to beat Elgar’nan,” Rook said. “Solas will take care of his archdemon and, when he does, we’ll throw everything we have at him. It’s what happens after that concerns me.” He looked to Neve, her blood-red eyes sending a shiver down his spine. Ugly black veins pulsed at her temples and black blood dribbled down her chin. She was inexplicably connected to the Blight now, able to feel it and, to some extent, control it. “We need a plan to stop the Veil from falling.”

“The Veil is tied to the ancient elven gods,” Morrigan said. “‘Twill not be a simple matter to find a suitable tether once they are gone.”

“Then let’s tie it to Solas,” Rook suggested. “He’s an elven god and the only one that will be left.”

Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan, standing further down the table next to Morrigan and Dorian, clenched her jaw at the suggestion. Rook didn’t speak highly of the Dread Wolf. It was understandable, really. He had been used and betrayed. Varric was gone, truly gone, and now Harding was lost as well. She could see vengeance coiling around his heart like a viper. That same righteous anger radiated off of Hawke as well. It was horrible, but she … she wanted to defend him! This wasn’t the Solas she knew, the one she fell in love with. They hadn’t seen the softer shades of him: his kindness towards those who were hurting or the way he lit up like a delighted child when speaking about the Fade. He wasn’t so different from them. He had his virtues and vices, his quirks. They didn’t know the elf who detested the taste of tea, the elf who painted beautiful murals on the walls, who could play chess in his head, who had a secret love of romance novels and music. Only she had that privilege. Everyone else who knew the truth of him was gone.

Solas, what have you done?

“You are correct,” Morrigan continued, pulling Ellana out of her troubled thoughts, “but you will need to draw his blood with the lyrium dagger to bind him and I doubt he will approve of the idea.”

Rook smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I can be very persuasive.” A sigh. “But it will be risky.”

Emmrich cleared his throat. “What about this dagger we made while you were trapped in the Fade?” he suggested, sliding the fake dagger across the table. It was nearly identical to the ritual dagger strapped to Rook’s side. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. There were no reverberations of magic threaded through it like the real one. “Odds are,” Emmrich continued, “Solas will need to do something else to complete his ritual. This dagger looks identical, but–”

“It can’t cut through enchantments like the real thing,” Rook finished.

“The backlash of such magic will render him helpless,” Morrigan remarked, glancing briefly at Ellana.

Taash stepped forward. “Uh, are you sure you want to try a bait-and-switch on the Dread Wolf? You know, the god of lies and trickery?”

The leaders gathered around the table all seemed sold on that idea. Trick the trickster. Poetic justice. Ellana had been quiet for too long. She may have been speaking to the void, but her words needed to be heard. “Is there a chance, any chance at all, that he’ll listen to reason?”

“Speaking from the heart, Inquisitor?” Morrigan asked. Her smile was sad, sympathetic to the Inquisitor’s plight.

“How could I not?” Ellana protested. “None of you know him as I do. Well, perhaps you do, Morrigan, sort of. The rest of you don’t. You’ve only ever seen the Dread Wolf. I’ve seen the man beneath all of that. If given the chance–”

“We’ve given him plenty of chances,” Rook said. “And he wasted them at every turn.”

“Not every turn,” Lavellan argued. “He saved you and the Dalish elves from Elgar’nan. Even though he was free from that Fade prison, he still worked with the Shadow Dragons and helped protect them from the Blight. He wants to help. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do. His heart has never been in this plan to tear down the Veil. He just … he feels like he has to do this to make up for everything that happened in the past. Everything that he did for her, for Mythal. If I can talk to him–”

“Varric tried to talk to him,” Rook said. “He died for it.”

Ellana’s heart was a stone in her chest. Her throat tightened and she closed her eyes. “I know.”

“You already tried to talk him out of it before and he took your arm for it.”

Her fists clenched and her bottom lip trembled. “I know.”

“This isn’t a fairytale, Inquisitor. You can’t solve this with the ‘power of love’.” Rook struck the table with his fist, startling Ellana so that she opened her eyes to meet his fiery gaze. “He’s too stuck in his ways. He can’t change. Actually, it’s not even that – he won’t change. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

“Rook,” Bellara said, resting a gentle hand on his arm. “That’s enough.” She had been watching the Inquisitor slowly crumble under Rook’s words and it hurt. Ellana’s struggle to save the man she loved mirrored her own trials with Cyrian. In the end, he redeemed himself, though he paid the ultimate price for it. Bellara didn’t know the Inquisitor well, but she didn’t wish that same fate on her.

Ellana glared at Rook with angry, tear-filled eyes, but she said nothing. They were good points, she wasn’t going to deny it. It infuriated her all the same. She wanted to see Solas. Ten long years she had gone without him and she needed to see him to know for sure that he was too far gone to be brought back. From what she heard, he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. She had hope that she could reach him, she just needed one more chance.

“You have options,” Morrigan interjected. “And you can make your choice when the time comes. For now, we have Elgar’nan to deal with.”

“Right,” Rook said. He let out a slow breath to simmer the boiling anger inside of him and rubbed the back of his tense, aching neck. The Inquisitor was a legend. She saved the world from a darkspawn magister and his archdemon. Thedas owed her a great debt. He never imagined someone so powerful, who made choices that determined the fate of the world could be so naive. He noticed how young she looked and began to think that maybe it wasn’t the fact that she was an elf. “Elgar’nan is in the Archon’s palace above us. We’ll all climb the tendril as soon as the archdemon is taken care of. Stock up on supplies and say your goodbyes. It’s time to end this nightmare.”

Rook was the first to leave, stalking off to check in with the faction leaders to get an update on their forces. Warden-Commander Cousland followed Davrin, no doubt burning with questions about a living, breathing griffon at his heels. Hawke disappeared into the next room to meet up with Isabela. It had been years since they’d seen each other. Most of the other members of the Veilguard left to their own factions to say goodbye to the friends and family they had made over the years. Many of these people would not be returning after this battle. Already their numbers had thinned in the first assault on the city.

Ellana meandered over to the fireplace. Morrigan watched her for a moment, poised as if ready to say something, but then thought better of it. She gripped the amulet around her neck, a sending stone, and left to a far corner to update her son on the situation. Kieran was safe, as safe as he could be with the world ending as it was. He wanted to join her, but this was a mission she needed to undertake on her own. Besides, if Elgar’nan had the power to sense the soul bound within Kieran …

Dorian joined Ellana by the fireplace. He noticed her biting her thumbnail, tapping her foot restlessly against the stone floor. Tears still shone in her eyes.

“You still love him, do you?” he asked. “After all these years?”

Ellana closed her eyes and lowered her hand. “I will always love him. He’s who I belong with.”

Dorian sighed. He reached out an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her into his embrace. “What am I going to do with you?”

They stood there for a while, staring into the fire, each consumed by their own thoughts. Ellana leaned her head against Dorian’s shoulder. She had missed him. Even with the sending stones, being so far away from him was difficult. He was her rock. When everything was falling apart, he had been there for her. The Inquisition disbanding, Solas leaving her that fateful night in Crestwood and then again after defeating Corypheus, her clan exiling her when she told them the truth about the Dread Wolf … Dorian was there to keep her going. He was her very best friend.

“Dorian, when this is over–”

“I know.”

She lifted her head off of his shoulder and stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. “You do..?”

“My dear, I could see it all over your face at the meeting.” He smiled at her, tears shimmering in his own eyes, and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “And though I don’t believe he will ever be deserving of you or understand why you could love that stubborn, prideful egghead, he makes you happy. And you deserve all the happiness the world can offer.”

“Dorian…” Ellana sniffed and wiped at the tears that had slipped down her face. She felt a soft handkerchief being placed in her hand and wiped at her eyes.

“Don’t start crying, you soft-hearted fool. You’ll make me cry, too, and I refuse to be reduced to a blubbering mess.”

Ellana laughed and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, my friend,” he replied. They held each other for a long moment and when they finally separated, Dorian left to meet with Maevaris.

Ellana stood alone in that room, facing the fireplace for a moment longer and trying to formulate a plan. She would find some way to get to Solas first so they could talk, before Rook took matters into his own hands. As she turned away, she nearly collided with Neve. The mage was staring at her, still as a statue. Her black eyes pulsed with an unnerving intensity and a sinister smile spread far too wide across her face.

“Oh, Neve,” Ellana said. She tried to remember Neve’s real face beneath the corruption. Hopefully this was temporary. Something seemed … different about the mage, though. “I’m sorry. Did you … need something?”

Neve chuckled darkly as she slowly began to circle around Ellana as a predator would its prey. “So, the Dread Wolf has fallen in love,” came a voice that was definitely not Neve’s. It was male, high-pitched and gurgling as if blood filled the lungs. Her irises were a thin white ring against a black backdrop, mirroring the eclipse outside. “And with a mortal, no less. This is interesting news indeed.”

Ellana took a step back and felt the flames of the fire licking her back. Neve matched it. She was cornered and though she had never heard the voice before, the realization came over her all the same. “Elgar’nan,” she whispered.

Her cry for help was cut short by a fleshy tendril erupting from a blighted portal in the ground. It wrapped around her throat, strangling her. She threw out her gauntleted hand and the fire within the hearth snaked around it before jettisoning out at the tendril. The gauntlet was a true marvel of engineering, created especially for Ellana by her arcanist, Dagna. It acted as a staff would, focusing her magic. The tendril shrieked as the flames burned into its flesh. Footsteps and startled voices sounded elsewhere in the building, heading to her location. Another tendril burst forth to trap her body in a vice-like grip.

“Inquisitor!” Morrigan cried out as kicked open the door to the room. Lightning crackled from her fingertips and arced out towards the abominations. The acrid smell of burning flesh made Ellana’s eyes water. She felt the relief of loosening limbs and thrashed about wildly to escape. Morrigan’s attack wasn’t enough, however. More tendrils sprouted from the growing portal around them, wrapping around the Inquisitor further. Dark spots danced in her vision as the air left her. She struggled desperately against the tightening garrote. The whispers of demons promising her the strength to free herself from this horror roared in her mind like thunder, but she fought against them. Slowly, she began to sink into the portal, its red glow casting sinister shadows on her face.

More allies showed up. The Warden-Commander hacked at the tendrils with her dragonbone greataxe, but they sprouted new growths with each strike. Dorian joined Morrigan in a magical assault of lightning and fire. Even Rook struck at the tendrils with the lyrium dagger. It proved to be the most effective weapon against the aberrations. The prison that contained the blight from which they originated was created by that weapon. Pieces fell to the ground in squelching thuds before disintegrating into ash. Instinctively, they coiled tighter around the Inquisitor's body. The last thing the heroes saw was the Inquisitor’s fearful eyes as she was dragged through the portal into the earth.

“Ellana!” Dorian cried out. He slammed his fists against the stone floor as if he could crack it open. “We have to help her!”

Rook stormed up to Neve, still possessed by Elgar’nan, and shook her viciously. “Where have you taken her?!”

The black sclera faded back into white, her irises glowing red once more. Neve blinked. She looked down at Rook’s hands gripping her arms, fingernails digging painfully into her skin, and then around at the people gathered around with their weapons drawn. “Ow, Rook, that hurts! What’s going on? What happened?”

Bellara ran up to her, shocked at Rook's increasing anger. “Elgar'nan possessed you for a minute there. He must be connected to you through the Blight. The Inquisitor is gone. He kidnapped her.”

Neve blanched. To have that horrid creature violating her body like that made her sick. Was that how Lucanis felt when Spite was forced into him? She patted Bellara’s hand to let her know she was okay. Sensing her distress, Lucanis came up beside her and held her hand.

“Damnit!” Rook cursed. He turned to the others, all staring at him with expectant eyes. “He must have taken her to the Archon’s palace.”

“Why would he take the Inquisitor?” Davrin asked. “If anything, I thought he’d kidnap you, Rook.”

Dorian paled as realization dawned on him. “He overheard us…”

“What do you mean?” Rook asked.

“Ellana and I … we were discussing her past relationship with Solas. Elgar’nan must have heard through Neve. He’s going to use her against Solas.”

“Well, shit,” Hawke muttered. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It shouldn’t mean anything,” Rook said. “I’m sure he thinks it’ll stop Solas from killing his archdemon, but we all know it won’t.”

“Do we?” Morrigan asked.

“Don’t tell me you believe she’s more important than his end goal.”

“It is not a matter of whether or not I believe in his love for her. Solas was a spirit. He is guided by his emotions and he has not seen the Inquisitor in many years. It will, at the very least, distract him. All Elgar’nan needs is an opening, for Solas to let his guard down and he can end the Dread Wolf. Solas is not bound to an archdemon. He is mortal. It only takes one well-placed strike.”

Rook began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, hands on his hips, brow furrowed. “Then we need to get up to the palace as soon as possible. We need that archdemon dead and it’s too fucking big for us to kill it alone.”

“We’ve got other problems,” said Strife as he jogged up to the distraught group with Isabela and the Viper in tow. “Elgar’nan’s army is amassing just outside. Our forces can hold them off while you climb up.”

So they would have to face Elgar’nan with less forces than they planned. That did not bode well, especially if Solas was somehow taken out.

“It’s fine,” Rook said. “The Veilguard can handle Elgar’nan. Just make sure those forces stay here on the ground.”

“We will,” the Warden-Commander promised.

Rook turned to his team. “Let’s do this.”

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