#makes a lot of Solas' past little moments in dai so much more poignant

[densewentz]

mmm not to be a solasmancer on main but im thinking about those few days after the Cole debacle if a solavellan Inquisitor encourages him to remain a spirit. just. Solas, watching her fret so much in the aftermath, terrified that she may have taken someone's choice away, worried that she influenced what Cole wanted somehow, watching her sheer relief and unbridled joy after Cole's, free and light and brimming with happy incredulity, "but you didn’t change, didn’t make me change. Thank you". He watches her, and thinks of Mythal. Thinks of devotion, and abuse. Regret. Thinks of Cole, and spirits and Wisdom and Pride- Thinks, wistfully, achingly, "in her hands, I might have been safe".

[becausekittensareinvolved]

It Should Have Been Raining

Angst Solavellan fic.

It should have been raining. Instead it was a still cool night. It was comfortable. It was pleasant. It was a cruel contrast to the chaos of the years leading up to this moment. The efforts taken by inquisition soldiers and former templars alike to track down and finally detain Fen'Harel. He led them all over Thedas it seemed. Then finally, their efforts were rewarded. They had recruited any mages that agreed to help. They needed the mana and lyrium to hold him, they had retrofitted one of the existing cells underneath Skyhold specifically to neutralize magic. They tested it, albeit cruelly, on some of the mages who just wanted to help. From what they could tell no permanent damage was done. No, for that they would need the templars specifically.

Approaching the cells with her detail of guards, Inquisitor Lavellan wore no expression. She had heard the whispers of her weakness for the mage. She would give the whispers no fuel for their gossip. The door to the dungeons creaked open and the guards inside stood at attention. The Inquisitor made her way through the cell block. When choosing which cell to enforce she merely chose the sturdiest. There was a time when she would never have dreamed of investing inquisition resources into their prisons. But times change. The Inquisitor gave a nod to one of the guards and he led her to the cell in question.

Her heart tightened at the sight though she would never show it. A man held in chains; beaten. She hadn't expected that. Two former templars at either side trying to hold him upright but the mage was on his knees. Just as they preferred. She called to him by his title and he seemed startled by her voice. He looked her in the eyes, his expression strained yet still dignified. He always did carry himself with an air of haughtiness; they had that in common. She stepped closer to call to memory all the pain, destruction and death he had caused. The heartbreak. She found her smile. She had finally found him. He was on his knees, forced to look up at her. He always did make her feel so small before. Not anymore. Emboldened by her sense of victory she grabbed the elvhen mage by his face. She had an official speech prepared; a formal conviction. But in this moment she couldn't resist making it personal. Making it sting. But she had momentarily been derailed. 

Vhenon. 

He had the nerve to call her that. He had no right. He lost that right when he made his choice. When he chose to love his precious past more than he loved any future with her. Surely that would sting. She loved him. But her only regret is that she believed that he loved her more than the Fade. She wished she could have torn his gaze away for just a little longer. But unlike him, she knew to let the past die. She wanted to move on from her mistakes, not make more by trying to fix them. That one did sting.

Tranquility. That's what the Inquisitor had asked for and they all knew what she meant. None of them were sure it would even work on such a powerful mage as Fen'Harel. After all, this was no mere mage, this was an old god they were dealing with. The intent was to make him tranquil so he would be harmless. Death seemed like too kind a punishment for all the pain he caused. Tranquility had a certain beauty to it. A fitting cruelty. The Inquisitor wanted nothing less for Fen'Harel. He deserved nothing less. The Commander had advised on the plan and he was skeptical. He supposed the Rite of Tranquility might kill Fen'Harel if it even worked at all. Still, the Inquisitor insisted they had to try. She wanted him to suffer. She wanted him to be severed from the thing he loved the most. She wanted him cut off from the Fade and forced to live solely in the world he supposedly created. Her advisors were starting to question whether she was of sound mind. But it was her advisors that had given her the idea. When Cassandra learned how to reverse the Rite of Tranquility they started restoring some of their resident tranquil. When Cassandra explained the process to her, that gave Inquisitor Lavellan the push she needed to go through with her plan. She couldn’t in good conscience make Fen'Harel tranquil; not permanently. No, she would only go through with it if it could be reversed. Pathetic. Deep down she knew that he would never forgive her for severing his connection to the Fade. But she wouldn’t dare do something so severe if she couldn’t reverse it.

Solas. 

His eyes lit up. It was time. She noted the templar now struggling to hold him up. The wards wouldn’t hold forever. Lavellan’s chest tightened again. Her grip on the mage loosened and as she looked at him her face softened. This was it. She hadn’t anticipated wanting more time. She knelt in front of him so they could see eye to eye. She was running out of time. It was now or never. She could spare him. She had the power to do so. Sure, they’d question her. But her followers far outweighed her opposition now. Still, it wouldn’t be an easy sell. The templar to her right flinched again and Solas’ face strained. She could tell he was trying to draw on the fade. She was shaken from her reverie. It was now or never. She ran her fingers down the side of his face. She had been silent for too long. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. She lingered long enough for him to respond. He leaned in and she felt his tears. Just a moment longer.

It was time. The Inquisitor broke their kiss and she smiled at him. She was at peace. She had made her decision. She stood up and gave the signal. The templars moved and she turned her back. No looking back now. She left the cell and she could hear his cries of protest. There were flashes of light but she kept walking. Her guard detail materialized into formation and they made their way out of the cell. It was a good feeling. She could finally breathe. It had been ages since she could breathe. Approaching the steps of Skyhold, the Inquisitor dismissed her retinue. She made her way to her chambers. She had a stack of paperwork waiting for her on her desk. The night was still young. She had time before bed.

-

She should sleep. It had been dark for some time and the fire was dying. She lit another candle. Stretching in her seat Inquisitor Lavellan assessed her remaining documents. Just a few more; before bed. Sleep would be her reward after a busy day. She wished she could drown out the knocking on her door. She had been ignoring it for a few minutes. Now she heard cursing on the other side. Lavellan blinked and suddenly the Seeker was storming up the stairs into her room. What could be so important at this hour? The Seeker was yelling something. Dead? That’s not possible. That doesn’t sound right. But here the Seeker was, screaming at her at this unholy hour. She had no choice but to follow the Seeker to the cells. What could she mean, dead? He was just supposed to be made tranquil. This isn’t right. Her heart was starting to pound in her chest. But he can’t be dead. There shouldn’t be anything to worry about. It’s so hard to breathe now. The Seeker was insisting she come see for herself. She didn’t want to go see but her legs were moving her toward the door anyway. The Seeker had mentioned screaming. Why was there a ringing in her ears? The walk from her chambers to the cells usually took longer. The night was so still; so comfortable. Why couldn’t it take longer? She heard herself ask poignant questions. Very official. There should be an official report; make sure everything was by the book.

Once again Inquisitor Lavellan found herself at the cell door. The guards looked shaken. Screaming they said. So much screaming. Otherworldly they said. The templars were doing a better job of hiding their fear. She could still see them trembling. A lot of fuss over a dead man. She approached the body slumped to the floor. There was a strange steam hissing off of the body. It reminded her of the veilfire Solas had taught her about. She wondered if it was related. The same templars from before were waiting for her. They mentioned they checked his vitals. Whatever that means. Did they try to revive him? Did they stop the ritual when they discovered it was killing him? So much screaming. She knelt once again in front of him. She reached out her hand to touch the body. She hadn’t noticed the shaking before. She tried to keep her hand steady and gentle. When her fingers connected with his skin she swore she heard a hiss. He still felt warm. She smiled. She let herself forget. For a moment. If there was noise around her she didn’t hear it. She was too focused on the body in front of her. She willed him to move; to make some sound. There was a stillness. Then a breath.

A hand on her throat. The body breathed to life. There was fire in the man’s eyes as he looked at her. Literal fire? Veilfire. The man spoke but not in his voice. She had killed him. Her accuser was angry. He didn’t belong where he was. There were voices in her head. Then pictures. Her accuser showed her what she had done. So much screaming. Why was he allowed to keep his form? He was taking over for Confidence so Pride could take his place. Her accuser told her he couldn’t come back now, but that she had to face the consequences of her actions. Some things are permanent. But she was allowed to talk to him if she wanted. A final word or two.

Ma vhenan. 

Not good enough. It wasn’t enough to bring him back. He didn’t want to see her. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t have a choice. Now or never. She was running out of time. She understood. She didn’t want to see her either. Lavellan apologized. She felt remorse. The Inquisitor had to live with herself. So her accuser let her go. The templars stepped in and cut her accuser down. Abomination they said. So much screaming. Her throat started to hurt. How long had she been screaming?