#my solavellan heart is fulfilled

[watcher1ngellvar]

I just finished the game! Woo!

[1800i-dont-write-fanfiction]

If we take solavellan in genuine good faith

Solas fell so deeply in love with Lavellan that he truly wanted to stay with her. Against his plans. despite his reservations. Forsake his duty. Because she did change everything.

So deeply enthralled and completely

Captivated

A person can be cold because really opening up your heart and mind is dangerous. And solas struggled to keep himself from giving too much away. she made him want to be the best parts of himself. he COULD NOT stand to be dishonest with her, he literally would not “lay with her under false pretenses” because she meant that much to him. It was an affront to her!!! He didn’t want to be anything other than honest, or himself, with her.

she broke down his defenses so completely that if he allowed her to come with him, she would change his mind. because he could not stand to fulfill his plans AND love her. how could he destroy something so important to her and watch her grow to resent him? or even yet, how could he stay connected to the part of him that loves so deeply AND tear down the veil, knowing what it would cost? I do think Solas wanted to be stopped.

“I would not have you see what I become” please please please trust me here I will hate myself even more knowing I am the villain in our story I don’t WANT to hurt you I have no choice I HOPE you will come to understand and still see me for who I am or was or can be in the end because your esteem means that much to me your empathy is devastatingly horrible “it would be kinder in the long run” I know I am going to hurt you but I can’t help but love you I worship you I would give you the world if I could. i will be in agony for the rest of my existence type shit

[dayntee]

So I finished Veilguard a while back, and of course I have thoughts. I'm sure none of them are original and have been plenty stated, but hey, we all need to mourn a game when we're done with it for better or worse, so here's mine.

Note: I wrote and queued this before I was aware of the layoffs at Bioware today. This is, in no way, meant to rub salt in the wound or point fingers. If anything, I'm gutted for the people who poured their heart into this game only to be found jobless today. I'm in the exact same position myself, and have nothing but empathy for the situation. To spoil what's below - I enjoyed my time with Veilguard. It could have been better, and if you're a dev that worked on it, you probably know that. I'm sorry it's turned out the way it has, but thank you for the experience regardless. It was a fun game.

Spoilers after the break, obviously. Be aware there will be discourse, but I'm not here specifically to bash. If anything, I'm actually still grateful for the experience.

Overall, I did enjoy my time with Veilguard. After all, my final save file was around the 85 hour mark, so clearly I had no issues continuing to sink time into the game. I itched to play when I wasn't, and I got my Solavellan ending I've been waiting 10 years for, and I damn near 100%'d the whole thing (including getting the hidden cinematic after the credits). So what went wrong? What did I not like? Why do I feel so… empty now that it's over?

If I were to summarize my issues and feelings with Veilguard, it's that it felt like it gave just enough to be passable content, but never committed to being a truly exemplary experience. In every way, from system design to companion design to overarching story to itemization, everything is fine… but not great.

Knowing that DAV went through development hell contextualizes a lot of these issues. If the art book is to be believed, the project had two full blown restart buttons pushed and many leadership handoffs. I've been in conversations, though, where folks ask "Why on earth could DA2 pull off a great storytelling experience, but DAV couldn't?"

There's something else at play, and after my own experiences in the game industry and squinting between the lines to try to glean what I think may have gone wrong, I have a hunch. Pure speculation ahead: I don't think leadership ever fully agreed on a committed vision.

The broad strokes are there, and they are strong:

The Lighthouse is a cool fucking hub. It grows with your group, responds to their needs, and shapes itself around you as you experience the world. The concept of this is dope AF.

The goal is closure on all the questions left unanswered after DAI. It does get to most of these, even if not as fully and as satisfying as some of us lore nerds would have liked.

Combat is fluid and pretty engaging (at least at first). It's simple, fun, and generally fulfills power fantasies well (for context, I specialized as a full Veil Jumper Archery Rogue).

WE GET TO EXPLORE NORTHERN THEDAS. This is so cool and a place we've all wanted to go for ages. TEVINTER. NEVARRA. WEISSHAUPT. All exciting prospects.

Level design and map design are pretty A+, imo. Landscapes and set dressings are beautiful and artfully crafted. Even if there are aspects of the visual design you disagree with, they committed to it and fulfilled it well.

Exploration is fun. I rarely hunt down every chest in a game. I could not stop treasure hunting for the life of me, and some of those hidden treasures felt really special and rewarding to uncover.

The cast of characters and factions you interact with are interesting and very different - from one another and from previous casts. It's nice to see some new tropes that either haven't been used or have been out of rotation for a while.

Solas is a good antagonist. He was before, and he still is, and biased Solasmancing aside - I always looked forward to the breaks in the game where I got to banter with the Egg.

Voice over cast is fantastic. I know some folks were less fond of non-British/American accents, but honestly, I was very fine with it. It reinforced that this part of Thedas, and this time in the overall storyline, is new and different. Thedas is changing, and so are its people.

All these things said - every single positive I have above feels like they were baseline requirements for a AAA Bioware RPG. That they don't go above and beyond these bare minimums is where the game feels like it fails, especially as a payoff for a critically acclaimed entry that's 10 years old and has a passionately dedicated fanbase.

A phrase I've been using a lot with folks is that DAV feels like the Lacroix of Dragon Age games. It's got the branding, it looks like Dragon Age, and it kind of tastes like Dragon Age, but… just barely. It leaves you feeling like it's lacking. It's a hint of it, and going back to drink it again doesn't quite satisfy you.

What we call this in game development is minimum viable product (MVP), which is usually trotted out at the point by production and/or leadership when you realize you've meandered on the project for so long that you just gotta ship something. This works if you're actually going to commit to polishing it up and continuing to make it better after launch for a live service game; fix it later is fine when that's a reasonable expectation.

But Veilguard walked back on that concept. It no longer was going to be live service, but a one-and-done, and the final, late pivot meant it just had less time to cook in its final form and likely a ton of wasted work that got chucked out. There are so many places where the experience feels like an alpha or beta version of what they actually wanted to do. The Lighthouse and Companions as a whole both exemplify this; they feel and look cool, but the experience of both are shallow and underdeveloped. They felt like they were missing something.

The most egregious issues, in my opinion, in no particular order:

Apologies in advance if they're your favorite, but Rook is probably the worst protagonist we've ever been given. Not because their concept is inherently bad, but because I couldn't really make them mine. Rook has no arc, makes few decisions that truly matter, and no moral conundrums barring maybe the Treviso/Minrathous decision. Even then—it feels like there's a right answer to that decision.

To explain: Minrathous gets fucked at the end of the game anyway. If you pick to save Minrathous, you've just doomed two metropolis level cities to excessive death and destruction AND locked yourself out of a potential romance option for no particular reason.

Rook's actions in Thedas also matter the least. The end state of the game is the same no matter what: the Evanuris fall, and the Veil is preserved. How you do it is largely immaterial. In every other game entry, shit can seriously go sideways and it's always directly because of your decisions.

Companion arcs are largely shallow and so reliant on Rook, they fail to feel real. Some of these arcs are more egregious in this manner than others, and some of them have truly excellent stories to tell (oh, hi there Emmrich). But even with the best arcs, this person asks you to make utterly life-altering decisions for them and you've probably known them for like a month or two at best. It just doesn't feel like I, as the PC, have the right to make that call, or that I've earned it. There's not enough time nor enough high stakes prior to those moment.

I won't beat this one to death, but the limited amount of previous choices not mattering in this entry hurts, and I know how complicated it would have been to explore all of them. That said, there were a few that had a ton of specific investment that deserved better resolution: Kieran in particular would have mattered so fucking much if he existed as canon. I understand that's the crux of the problem, but it makes it so that if he was part of your world state in both DAO and DAI, his absence is all the more noticeable.

The South being destroyed off-screen through text will never not bother me. The Inquisitor is apparently faffing about doing fuck all with the resources they've built over time, especially if they chose not to disband the Inquisition. They didn't chase after Solas, who they knew was going to be a problem, and then they ALSO let the South fall? I'm sorry - it does a hero that the majority of this fandom is most likely heavily invested in the worst service no matter which way you look at it.

Veilguard feels like a game that couldn't get out of its own way. The part that has me grieving the most is that you can see under the surface a great game was there, but just not fully realized.

Without being one of the people who made the game, we can only speculate and can't presume the cause for why we got what we did. Hell, as someone who works in game development, sometimes you never get the answer yourself as to why things went so horribly sideways. The larger the game and studio, the more blind spots you're likely going to have on the overall project.  That said, I have nothing but empathy for the Veilguard team. It's very clear that at least the majority of folks working on it poured in a ton of work and cared a lot about it.

It's not my place to blame anyone in particular for it, because I don't have the first-hand knowledge necessary to cast that judgement. I hope the folks who worked on this don't let it get them too down; you still made a fun game. And I'm sure you're just as disappointed it wasn't the love letter to Dragon Age that you probably wanted it to be, as much as any of us fans who feel it didn't meet the bar.

You had an impossible job to do; the expectations here were so high, and you had more obstacles than any dev team should reasonably have during their project, regardless of the expected fires we all run into during development. Despite that, I still had fun, and I still care quite a bit about these characters.

That's worth something. Thank you for the experience.

[carabas]

Dragon Age Veilguard liveblogging, through the end of the game -

Bianca's broken pieces really were left on Varric's bedside table this whole time, not sure if that's better or worse than if she was part of Rook's hallucination.

And now it's Bellara's turn to send me codex entries from the future, talking about wishing Harding was here now that we've... solved all the big endgame problems that we absolutely have not solved yet? Spoilers, Bellara. i mean, i did already expect to defeat the big bad and save the world in the end. This does rather squash hope for Harding making a last minute Titan-magic-fueled reappearance though.

Talking to Emmrich about when we stopped Solas's ritual back at the very beginning of the game. "It was a team effort. Me, Harding, Neve. And Varric." And the conversation goes on to be specifically about Varric and mourning, no more mention of the others, but that list of names laid out like that is hitting me - Rook is the only person on that list who is not missing or dead. I mean, I've got my fingers crossed for getting Neve back. But the specific people who were lost were the entire team Varric put together, no one left in the Lighthouse ever met him, Varric's team is gone except for Rook.

Talking with Lucanis, Rook questioning if he actually got out of the god prison, this could be more of the Fade... i'm just. flailing in the general direction of the mental Ossuary about this.

And also thinking about all the Dread Wolf's legends about traps, and Rook following in the Dread Wolf's footsteps in this too, both in his own story and as this foundational part of this love story, Rook as the person who opened the door for Lucanis

Also Lucanis wanting to hear Rook talk, "your voice is a comfort" - Rook's voice actor is pretty great, I get it. Pretty sure my love for Rook is mostly due to Alex Jordan's delivery.

Assigning the team to different missions with the allies we've gathered and seeing that play out in this big final battle - feels like everything we did mattered, Dragon Age has really learned from Inquisition's mistakes on this front. Honorary Crow Taash, omg, they get to fulfill their childhood dream!

SOLAS. incoherent flailing in delight about the Rook-Solas confrontation, but WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WON'T TEAR DOWN THE VEIL, the gasp I gasped, YOU TAKE THAT BACK. Turning on Rook in order to escape the trap wasn't a betrayal, we knew he was going to do that, Rook himself repeatedly said he was going to do that, this is a betrayal. What are you thinking, talk to me Solas... oh, fine, i'm too happy about fighting side by side to be that alarmed right now. One cataclysm at a time.

Bellara thinking over all the questions she had for Solas and what she really wants to know is why he killed Mythal ;_; my girl. i'm so glad I brought this team. And Solas also refers to Spite as a spirit of Determination!! I was starting to wonder if that comes up in this game at all if you don't happen to bring him to fight in the Hall of Valor but Solas points it out too, I'm so happy about this. Lucanis and Spite refusing Solas's offer to separate them, oh my god, everything I want all the time in this game!! except the veil coming down i guess.

BIG WOLF MONSTER SHAPESHIFTER BOYFRIEND i still can't believe they put that in the trailer IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWED BY THE RETURN OF SHAPESHIFTER WIFE, this game is for shady apostate enjoyers specifically

Oh thank god it was a trick lmao, Veil tearing down plan is still on, why did I doubt that, of course it was a trick.

TEN YEARS SINCE INQUISITION. TEN YEARS. and they get their happy ending, lavellan's role in this story was everything i could possibly have dreamed of, no words.

my solavellan heart is very full.

...my mage-rights-obsessed, spirit-loving heart on the other hand is having mixed feelings. i am not surprised the veil did not come down but i did not feel great about turning solas away from that purpose, not without offering him some kind of alternative, someone else picking up the duty he's finally laying down - Lavellan says the people he has wronged are asking him to stop, and indeed some of them are, but the spirits are still so desperate to get back into a world they were separated from that they twist into demons and abominations, Cole in Trespasser was so delighted to discover the Veil was not natural and that he wasn't a wrong thing... but then all my reasons for wanting the Veil torn down come from the previous games and not from Veilguard, why would that be in the ending when it wasn't in the previous hundred hours. Lots of smoothing over of previously complex subjects happening in this game, most of which I'm happy to roll with, but this one's so central to Solas - and the reason this game otherwise works for me even with all its changes in style is because it usually seems to have been built entirely out of love for Solas.

Anyway. I was so incredibly tempted by the option to try to trick the Dread Wolf himself. I want Rook to follow in the Dread Wolf's god-imprisoning-trickster footsteps so badly. But Mythal. And Lavellan's hope for talking Solas around. The lasting reunion for Solavellan that I'd hoped for but wasn't sure we could truly get. So. I haven't looked up what the other endings are like yet, maybe trickster Rook can be something for my Dorianmancing Inquisitor's worldstate.

That post-credits scene - I feel properly rewarded for doing all the sidequests and they've got villains set up for another game if they want them, but by Dragon Age standards that's not even slightly a cliffhanger. The four-game-long story is over. I don't know how I feel but I'm feeling it.

Oh, there's no playable epilogue. I appreciate Bellara's codex entry from the future now.

...okay so I wrote out those last few paragraphs and then actually I couldn't stand having talked him into giving it up, I went back to play through what happens if Rook tries to trick the Dread Wolf and I feel better lmao, it solved my mixed feelings by giving me another, different set of mixed feelings, the mixed feelings balance each other out. I had a blast with this game, we're ending on an odd note, i'm going to be chewing on this for a while.

[miriani-lavellan]

Final Thoughts

Well, I beat the game. Some thoughts:

The Very Good

Combat (for mages, haven't played the rest) was a massive improvement over DA:I. It got a little repetitive after I learn the button combos, but this was solved by respeccing and doing something different. Fights felt pretty satisfying, and I didn't feel like I was getting interrupted during side quests/exploration as much as DA:I. And FINALLY, finally, I had to think a little tactically again. Not as much as in Origins, but definitely more than DA:I. It turned out not being able to take control of my companions directly didn't matter as much - you do command and direct them when you tab.

It looks fkn great. And I mean, amazing. The marketing really didn't do it justice - it made it seem super stylised for some reason. It's honestly just like a massively upgraded DA:I - they clearly saw they were doing it right that game and chose to develop it further. Everywhere we went, I felt like I was properly in Thedas again, and I super super wanted to dive into the screen and have a little ocean swim at some points.

Sidequests were all excellent. No more wasting time with busy work, every side quest felt like it was worth the effort, either for a little satisfying side content, or puzzle solving. And they matter more in the outcome of the area, too.

Your decisions have outcomes later in the game, and the game makes it explicitly clear this is happening because you did this. As someone with limited time on their hands, I didn't want to save scum or end up irritated because I didn't realise I was making a key decision.

I thought the companions were an amazing bunch, and I enjoyed getting to know all of them. The quests did an amazing job of making me feel like I was a leader trying to get to know the people they were trusting with so many lives - I felt like I was putting effort into my relationships and being rewarded for it.

The ending quests were fantastic. I bawled my eyes out at The Reveals.

The CULTURAL differences!! We are NOT in the south any longer, and also decades have passed since the attitudes and actions of some key characters in the series. I love that Rook's outlook on spirits, mages, and other things seems to be different from our past heroes. I love that things are different here. The vice grip of the Andrastian chantry is not present here, and that was a culture shock for me. We've been hearing this whole time from characters with different 'unusual' outlooks on life, usually because they came from the places we visit in this game. Now we really get to see it.

The sorta 'key' NPCs, Isabela, Teia & Viago, Antoine & Evka, the Viper and Tarquin, Irilen and Strife were all amazing.

The Good

The music was lovely. I missed Trevor Morris - I feel like he captured Thedas best, and there were no moments where the soundtrack hit me like In Hushed Whispers and Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts - but the music was definitely great.

We got a LOT of closure on big, big questions. I'm sure the lore people will point out some inconsistencies or whatever, but for me it answered and satisfied all of my questions in a big big way. Felt pretty good to have guessed correctly on some things too!

I love that you got some input in the Inquisitor's actions, instead of it being determined by only your 'past choices' selection. In the light of what were uncovering, that was extremely appreciated. I'm still not sure I made the right decision, but what happened and what can happen definitely felt like proper closure on the Solavellan era that tied me up SO bad for a while.

The romances (and I've seen them all, if only played Lucanis) were fulfilling, although I agree with some comments they might have been paced better. Lucanis' lock-in scene was particularly confusing - how it goes down makes perfect sense for the character don't get me wrong, but some follow up would have been nice.

I love the companion relationships that blossom when you have your romance locked in. There was a little set-up that made me jealous between Neve and Lucanis early on though. :)

What I Sorta Wished were Different

The pacing of the whole story felt quite... idk. It seemed all piled towards the end, in a way. The main quests definitely didn't seem to tell a continuous thread like the DA:I quests did - there was a kind of theming and stuff with those that DA:V doesn't seem to have. That being said, there was nothing about the main story I didn't enjoy as such.

I wished we could hear a little more about our decisions from past games. Even a few codices would have been nice.

The Well of Sorrows should have mattered.

It would have been nice to get more variation in armour. There were lots in DAI that seemed to fit my character thematically, I didn't really find any for Rook I really loved. I thought some of the companion armours were a little gaudy looking too.

[onewomancitadel]

Solas with his lighthouse and all the mentions of Solavellan reminds me of Hero and Leander, though I doubt that it's a reference in any way, it's just for my own flavour... Hero lights a lamp for Leander to swim across the Hellespont to see her, but their love is only for the warm seasons. When he tries swimming to her in the winter at the sight of her lit lamp, a strong wind blows it out, so he's lost at sea and then drowns. Hero throws herself from the tower, and later their bodies wash up on the shore in an embrace.

I had been previously thinking of Eros and Psyche (the arrow meant for someone else and the unlikeliness of their love; Eros' masking of his true nature; the tasks and trials Psyche must fulfil to be with him; the raising of the mortal to immortal to be with her lover), but you might see more influence what with Loki's (a trickster god influence for Solas) punishment for killing Baldr of the venom dripping in his eye from a snake and Sigyn, his wife, collecting it in a bucket. This is before the onset of Ragnarök but I could see it being repurposed for after the collapse of the Veil.

This leads me to think of the current topic today I've seen people talking about which is tragic, bittersweet, and happy endings for Solavellan. It's no secret now that it seems like the Inquisitor really will carry over to DA4 unlike previous DA games, and Solavellan being discussed so openly is pretty much unprecedented. It's very hard to debate what sort of ending will look right because it depends on how much Solas is or isn't vindicated, and the fact that archetypally, trickster gods will never be rewarded or punished in a strictly straightforward fashion. From the angle of fanservice (which unfortunately comes into the PR end of things, in handling fan questions) they also seem to hold the belief that shippers like Solavellan because it hurts, and so I think that's the angle they're going to play to - and have played to so far - and based on how Trespasser was written ('what makes you cry the most') I'm not really interested in thematic analysis. I liked how Solavellan played into all the best aspects of the DA world and had serious romance writing - it didn't feel like weird self-insert weirdness, but actually like something intimate (I hate the dialogue options clearly labelled 'flirt' and much preferred something like in the pre-dialogue wheel games where it wasn't giving you a PRESS TO FUCK button). I don't know how that can be handled properly in a game where the Inquisitor isn't the protagonist, thinking from a game perspective. Will there be some sort of internal numerical metric for TURNING THE DREAD WOLF'S HEART vs. MAKING HIM BREAK UP WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND, AGAIN? If you step on a butterfly, will that make Solas refuse to answer Lavellan's phone calls? I don't know!

I can't say much with confidence, but if I were to cast an aspersion, I'd expect however Solas gets treated by the story (whether he's right about the Evanuris, which, well, seems like he is so far, how you treat him as an advisor, etc.) will heavily influence what role Solavellan plays, if at all, and if he gets punished, an ending where Lavellan ends up with him - like Loki and Sigyn - could be construed as bittersweet for the romance and bittersweet for their characters - or where he's vindicated and freed, but maybe without purpose, could be bittersweet for his ending up with Lavellan too - and if they die together like Hero and Leander...

We've done the years of separation, and I think at the very least some sort of tonally appropriate pair with the ending he gets - how Rook treats him, probably - makes the most sense. DA romances love the bittersweet and the tragic, but Solas is in a highly exceptional circumstance (and so is the Inquisitor) compared to any other companion.

Anyway, just a collection of thoughts. I'm intrigued to see where it goes considering I had lost all hope for so many years, but it's overwhelming to follow, so I just wanted to make at least one post about it.

[himluv]

Little Mercies

Another Solavellan oneshot. Set a few weeks after Heat. Enjoy!

“Wild. Running, jumping, white and shining.” Cole blinked watery eyes at the Inquisitor. “Free.”

She smiled softly and nodded, but did not speak. She had eyes only for the halla that bounded away from them across the river. Solas had thought little of the creatures, but when he looked back at Riallan he saw the depth of her wonder at the sight. Cole’s voice echoed her reverence, and knowing the thoughts were hers made his heart clench.

“They are so delicate,” Cassandra said. “I expected them to be… hardier.” She said it without disdain, a simple observation.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Riallan said without looking away from the animals.

The Seeker considered her, taking in her willowy form in the intricately sewn Keeper’s robes and smiled. “This is true.”

That made him smile. That the Seeker compared Riallan to halla was at once endearing and laughable. The Inquisitor was something altogether more fierce than the elegant deer, even if she shared their grace.

Not that he would say as much in current company.

“Elegant, yes,” Cole said. “Long legs for bounding through trees. But sturdy too. Powerful, precious, poised.”

Riallan laughed at that, the sound bright and echoing off the stones of the riverbank. “Yes, Cole they are that too.”

Solas was glad he stood at the front of their party for once, for he could not contain his blush at the spirit’s words. They had been his thoughts, and they were decidedly not about the halla. He continued on the path, eager to move on and give Cole something else to think on, so he was the first to notice the red sails across the water.

His stomach dropped even as he smiled. While he had little affection for the Dalish, Riallan would be overjoyed to see a clan here. “Inquisitor,” he called and pointed ahead of him.

Sure enough, once her gaze found the aravels her whole face lit up. It was the biggest grin he had ever seen on her face. The purest, most hopeful expression. It made his chest ache, knowing that she so dearly missed her clan. She may not know it, but he had taken that from her. Yet another shame for him to carry.

“These are the aravels?” Cassandra asked, tripping over the word slightly.

But Riallan didn’t hear her, she was already bounding down the bank and into the water. Her joy ran away with her, lending wings to her feet as she reached the other side of the shallow river, her bare toes sure in the firm mud of the bank.

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra shouted, but it was a wasted effort. Riallan was already gone, her heart and mind leagues away in the Free Marches.

“Flying, soaring, thunder in her ears. Sun in the sails, stars in their eyes, warmth in their hearts.” Cole looked at Solas, his gaze unseeing as he read Riallan’s racing thoughts. “Home.”

He knew that clan Lavellan were fairly progressive, if reclusive. He hoped, for her sake, this clan would welcome her with open arms.

Cole looked at him then. “They keep coming back, searching, seeking, sad, but home is gone.”

“Yes, Cole,” he said. “It is.”

“I’m sorry, da’len,” said the Keeper. “You are one of the People, but we do not trust this Inquisition.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, even she had felt the same until recently. And yet, Hawen’s words stung more than she cared to admit. Not least because she saw the prejudice in his distrusting glances at her companions. Did Deshanna look at city elves that way? Was her clan no better? Were all Dalish so insular?

Was Solas right about them after all?

“I— of course, hahren. I understand.” There was no keeping the disappointment from her voice. This was a rejection, even if it was wrapped in wise and kind words. It was as she had feared, the humans would vaunt her for as long as it was convenient and she would pay for their fervor with the acceptance of her kin.

But she couldn’t give up that easily. “May we rest with your clan for the evening?” She kept her voice quiet, hoping that her companions would not hear their conversation. Though she suspected Cole would tell all over dinner anyway.

She saw the hesitance on Hawen’s face and closed her eyes. “Forgive me, hahren. I did not mean to impose.” She turned to leave, but he stopped her with the brush of fingertips on her shoulder.

“Tel’abelas, da’len,” he said. “I am sorry. Of course you can join us.” He gave a wary glance at Cassandra, but smiled at Riallan.

She understood his concerns about the Seeker. She was an imposing figure, a capable warrior, and above all, human. But, Riallan worried more about Solas. Their only argument had been about the Dalish, heated and full of brash words she regretted. It was not something they had ever resolved. She would need to talk with him before tensions rose in the camp.

“Ma serannas, hahren.” She inclined her head in deference to the Keeper. “I will inform my people.”

She stepped away to the edge of the camp, Solas and Cassandra following her. Cole was nowhere to be seen.

“I am here,” the spirit promised, his voice frail as wind. “It would not help them to see me.”

“Thank you, Cole,” she said.

“That conversation did not seem,” Cassandra paused to find the right word. “Welcoming.”

Solas snorted, but said nothing.

Riallan cast a disapproving glance his way, but if he noticed he gave no sign. “They are, understandably, hesitant to trust us.”

Dark brows rose high on the Seeker’s face. “But you are Dalish!”

“A Dalish representing a human organization with ties to the Chantry,” Riallan added.

“And accompanied by a Seeker of Truth and flat ear, no less,” Solas said. There was no heat in his words.

Riallan was pretty sure that made it worse. “Hawen said nothing of the sort.”

“He did not have to.” He leaned on his staff and looked away from her.

She had no argument to make and it only made her angrier. “He has invited us to spend our evening in the camp,” she said.

“Ma nuvenin,” he said. The words were a cold wind in her ears.

Cassandra looked between them with confusion. “You are fighting. Why?”

“Solas takes issue with the Dalish,” she said, crossing her arms, wishing his disdain didn’t affect her so much.

“Reaching. So much they do not know. Grasping hands and hearts save all the wrong parts.” The spirit appeared, standing between Riallan and Solas.

“Leave it be, Cole,” Solas said.

“Their misunderstanding hurts.” He said it as a plea, begging the elf to let him help.

“Yes. But you cannot heal it.”

“I could try,” he said, petulant, displeased as a child being told ‘no’.

“And you would fail.”

“Perhaps because you don’t want to let the pain go,” Riallan said. “I don’t know what the Dalish did to slight you Solas, but this clan has offered us shelter. I, for one, would not offend them by refusing.”

That was an exaggeration, considering that she’d asked Hawen if they could stay, but he didn’t need to know that.

Cassandra gave Solas a sheepish look. “Something other than field rations would be a pleasant change.”

Solas pursed his lips, then looked at Riallan. “I do not disagree.” It wasn’t quite an apology, but there was no argument in his eyes. It was close enough.

“Then, it’s settled.” She forced a smiled at them and turned back to the camp, eager to mingle with her people.

This was not how Solas imagined spending his evening. The campfire and open sky were all correct, but being surrounded by modern elves, listening to their stories was unexpected. It wasn’t wholly unpleasant, if he didn’t listen too closely.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Riallan sat down beside him, setting a wooden tankard down by her feet. The firelight flickered and billowed in shadows across her skin, giving her cheeks a duskiness she didn’t have by day.

“Try this,” she said and offered a piece of bread to him.

He took it, but did not try it. “What is it?”

“Honeyed bradh with halla butter.” There was laughter in her voice, a warmth he only heard after she’d visited with Varric and Bull in the Herald’s Rest. Perhaps the tinge in her cheeks had more to do with Dalish wine than the fire.

He took a tentative bite and let out a pleased sound.

She grinned. “You like it?” Her eyes shone with the light of the fire, and when she looked at him like that, like her whole world hinged on what he said next, he couldn’t help but smile back.

“Very much.” He took another bite to prove it. The bread was light and flaky, spread with spiced butter and a fine drizzle of honey on top. It was savory and sweet, hearty enough to have with a meal but sweet enough to crave for dessert.

She flushed at his approval, and then stole the final bite out of his hand. “I didn’t say you could have the whole thing!” She laughed even as she shoved the bread into her mouth. “Don’t tell on me, but this better than my clan’s.” She giggled, the sound girlish and carefree.

Definitely feeling the effects of the wine, then.

He leaned in to bump his shoulder against hers. “You secret is safe with me, if—” he gave her a wicked little smile, “—you get me another piece of that bradh.”

The look she gave him flushed him with warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. “Ma nuvenin, Solas.”

And then she was up and gone, hunting to fulfill his request. Across the fire Cassandra leaned against an aravel, talking with one of the clan’s hunters. From what he could hear they were sharing hunting stories, and she’d regaled the elf with a tale of Pentaghast dragon hunters. Cole remained out of sight, but Solas saw him in the little mercies that had played out over the evening meal. A knife that should have slipped and sliced simply fell instead. The fish that would have burned were magically flipped while no one looked. And, he noticed now, the Inquisitor’s drink had filled in her absence.

“Cole,” he chided.

“The wine helps,” the spirit said, though he didn’t appear.

“That is debatable.”

“She is comfortable. Thoughts quieter. Frantic, buzzing, soothed with warmth.”

Solas sighed. “Remember that too much can lead to hurt. It weakens the will and tears down walls that should remain in place.”

Cole blinked at him, suddenly manifested before him. “She wishes you would let your walls down.” He tilted his head. “Would you like wine?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “No, thank you.”

The spirit vanished as Riallan returned. She bowed, an exaggerated flourish of arms and legs, and offered him the bradh she found. “Your bradh, Master Solas.”

He bit back a smile at her antics, but took the bread. He was halfway through a bite when she sat beside him, much closer this time, and lifted her tankard. “Did you refill my wine?”

He choked and she laughed at him. “No,” he said. “Cole was helping.”

“Aww, thanks Cole!”

“You’re welcome,” came the spirit’s disembodied voice.

She took a sip and looked out over the fire, her eyes lingering on the people and conversations happening all around them. Someone had found a lyre and strummed it aimlessly until a song formed and a few people took up singing. It was a soothing melody in a mixture of their broken elvhen and common.

It was no less beautiful for it.

He caught her watching him, her eyes suddenly intense. “What is it, lethallan?”

“This is why I asked to stay.” She held his gaze for a moment, then looked at the fire. “I wanted to share this life with you, even for just a night.” The words were barely a whisper, a confession he wasn’t certain she would have made under other circumstances.

He cleared his throat. “I thought the Keeper offered.”

She blushed. “I lied.”

“Why?” Just when he thought he understood her motivations she did something he didn’t expect.

“I didn’t want you to think I was desperate or homesick.” She stared down into the depths of her wine. The words no doubt confessed thanks to its influence.

“There’s nothing shameful in longing for the world you once knew,” he said.

She hummed and took another drink. “Maybe not shameful, but certainly foolish.”

Only because she lacked the power to bring back what was lost, he told himself. “If you could go back, if the anchor and the Breach had never happened, would you?”

He hadn’t meant to ask, but in the warm haze of the fire and the sweetness of the wine on her breath, the words just tumbled out.

She thought on his question for a long time, long enough that he thought she wouldn’t answer him at all. Then her hand was on his forearm, the barest touch that sent a jolt through him.

When he looked up her focus was undeniable. She held his gaze even through the flush of embarrassment and drink on her cheeks.

“No. No, I don’t think I would.”

[midnightprelude]

Deception Unraveling | Ch. 3: The Din’anshiral

From my Crestwood Solas POV fic. It’s short, but it’s finished, and writing it broke my heart. Apparently it’s Solavellan sobbing week according to @pikapeppa and @faerieavalon, so I thought I’d toss this nonsense out into the fold as well (grumble grumble).

Read here or on AO3.

The wind was enough to make even his heavy cloak billow. Summer was in full force and he found himself quickly sweating. He was ill-dressed for the weather and he quickly removed as much clothing as was prudent, leaving on only a thin vest. He was still warm, but the breeze was able to cool his skin without the extra barriers of his clothing. He smiled. He had not felt so free in a long time.

He walked along a great river, water rushing past the direction he found himself traveling. He paused by its bank, cupping his hands and reaching down to drink from the flowing stream. The water was cool against his parched lips. He repeated the movement, splashing more water against his face.

The reflection stared back at him, disheveled and distorted through the passing waters. His hair was a mess, hopelessly tangled and limp. He pulled it out of his braid, letting the long brown locks trail down his back. He removed what little clothing remained and submerged himself in the water, gasping at the chill. The stream clearly emerged from a nearby mountain, the temperature of its waters unaffected by the summer heat.

Weeks of sweat and grime came off in layers, darkening the water. He had hardly registered the sorry state of his skin until he was clean again, but now he was not sure how he had stood it for that long. He pulled his hair back again, fastening it into a tight braid to keep it from his eyes.

He was no longer sure where he was headed, letting his feet continue to carry the rest of him towards some unknown destination. The place did not seem to matter terribly. Only that he kept moving, inexorably, towards something. It felt right, walking the world on foot.

A deep feeling of contentment washed over him.

This is where I am meant to be.

He was not sure where precisely the thought came from; it came unbidden from a secret part of his spirit, showing him the way when he had thought he had lost it. And perhaps he had found something special here, at the edge of the world. The hills crested into gentle slopes, the grass beneath his feet was soft, and there was no lack of game.

One foot in front of the next, he passed, miles rolling by with the setting sun. He had not seen a soul until the sun was nearly peaking upwards past the horizon, a new morning beginning.

There she was. She stood atop a hill and he found himself being pulled towards her.

A long braid cascaded behind the woman’s back, her traveling dress blowing softly in the wind. Her hands clasped the reins of a gelding and a stallion, the former as pale as starlight and the latter its opposite. As he approached, he began to see single tendrils of hair had become loosened from her braid. Her back was towards him, looking out into the stretch of land before her. She held herself as though the entire world was hers to breathe in, not from arrogance, but from a proud sense of belonging. She was so distinctly of the world, but her beauty and sense of bearing kept her almost apart from it. It was simultaneously challenging and simple to believe that she had been created from this world—the place that was filled with both sorrow and overwhelming joy. He felt that she had carried both in her palm, but had decided she would embody something quite different from either.

“Vhenan”, he breathed.

As though she sensed his presence, she turned slowly to face him.

He gasped when he saw her face.

It was indeed his lover, in so many ways. The woman had her hair, her bearing, her nose, her slight figure. It was not unusual that he would have mistaken her for the woman he loved.

Her eyes though, were distinct. They were silver clouds, crisp and brilliant, encircling dark pupils. He had seen them so many times before, in his own reflection. She wore a thin circlet in her hair, held in place by silver pins. He knew this stranger, even if they had never met.

“Father, I have been searching for you for days. Why you choose to make the journey on foot as opposed to using our eluvian will never make sense to me.”

He remembered to close his mouth. He must have looked quite a fool before her.

This woman… It cannot be.

“Is everything quite alright, Father? I brought your stallion. We can finish the rest of the trip together, if you do not mind the company. Mother has already arrived, days ago, with her entourage.”

He was stunned, shaking his head.

“Father?”

He cleared his throat. “Um… Yes. I will go with you. Though I am not sure where we are going, if truth be told.”

She laughed. “Have you hit your head? I knew that I should have insisted you travel with a company. I know that you like the time to yourself, but…” She looked at him curiously. “You really have forgotten, haven’t you?”

He nodded. “Humor me. I haven’t been feeling myself lately.”

She took his hand, handing the reins to the midnight black stallion. “Here you go.” When he mounted, she continued. “We’re going into the city, of course. There’s to be a party… Something about you naming me as your heir in front of all of Elvhenan...” She laughed, freely, as though she had never known hurt.

He looked around, past the rolling hills, past the woman who looked like her and called him ‘father’. “The city… You don’t mean…?”

She laughed. “Mother is going to hear of this, you can mark my words. She’ll never let you out of her sight again. I had not thought you had grown senile in the few months we have been apart. We travel to Arlathan, of course. The entire household is already there. You’ll be the last to arrive, as usual.”

Arlathan… That means… It worked? But… if it worked, she could never be…

His vision blurred and suddenly he was standing on the floor of a great stone tower. He could see an eerie green glow off in the distance, blue lightning crackling across the sky. The woman was gone, as were the hills, the horses, and the sky.

The Fade. Of course it is. I could never have a life with her and my People restored both. One dream will always be the death of the other. And… we had a child in this make-believe world? I had not even known that a family was something I wanted. A legacy, one who would remember me for who I am as opposed to who I was made to be. It is too much to believe. But now that I know…

A woman stood before him, wearing his daughter’s face, but precious little else.

“Did I do well?” It cooed, voice as silky as warm chocolate.

“I do not need your interference, demon.”

The woman, the demon of desire, pouted. “Do you not? You’re absolutely brimming with want. Passion that only I have the power to fulfill. Did I pick the right one?”

He tutted. “Too unrealistic. You gave it away.”

She laughed. “Our desires do not need to be realistic. That is precisely why they are desires in the first place.” She looked him over. “Oh, perhaps I shouldn’t be wearing her face. Must look a bit strange to you.” The desire demon shimmered and she changed slightly to replace his daughter’s face with the Inquisitor’s.

“Is that better, love?”

He shook his head. “You know that I do not yearn for her any longer. It is done.”

The demon laughed. “You are an absolutely terrible liar, my sweet. You want her as you always have. You just tell yourself that you can’t have her. And what a sad little thing that longing has made you. I would help you. You could stay here with me. I can give you everything. I can give you her and your world both. You can have everything if you remain. The waking world will only hold ashes. Ashes, blood, and pain. You seek to walk the din’anshiral alone, my pet. You need not.”

He leaned on his staff, tired from this encounter already. “You would leave me with nothing when you were done.”

She chuckled, the laughter ringing softly against the masonry. “Perhaps that’s true, but you would keep me busy for quite some time before that.” She stood straighter, eyes meeting his. “But enough chatter. I will find what you desire, whether you approve or not.”

His vision began to swim again.

This time he was in a crystal palace, mirrors suspended in the air, chandeliers swaying gently in the wind. The air was pleasantly warm and the construction of the tower was such that natural light and air filtered through the rooms, giving its denizens access to the outside world while sheltering them from it.

Before him stood a great silver tree, branches extending so high he could barely make out their leaves. It seemed to reach the very clouds themselves. The trunk of the tree had been shaped in a throne, as imposing as the woman who sat among its branches, a living throne.

Lady Mythal sat resplendent in full armor, her long blonde hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. She was dressed for battle—indeed, she had anticipated it.

He did not need to see his reflection to know what it would hold. He was younger, but his vallaslin had been removed already. This was to be a coronation of sorts. His reward, or his curse.

The other seven evanuris stood behind the imposing figure of his former mistress. Elgar’nan, with his flaming sword and fiery eyes stood beside his wife, directly to her right. At the goddess’s left stood her favored daughter, Andruil. He was surprised to see the goddess of the hunt looking uncharacteristically pale and gaunt, her hand lay gently on her mother’s shoulder, as though to steady herself. Branching out from them were Mythal’s other daughter Sylaise, fair and gentle, and Sylaise’s husband June, built like a ram. On the other side of Elgar’nan stood Ghilan’nain, in riding leathers. The twins, Dirthamen and Falon’Din, stood behind their father, apart from the others and cloaked in darkness.

Mythal beckoned for him to approach her dais and he followed her command. There was no other option.

He stood upon a mosaic at her feet, depicting the creation of the world.

The evanuris may not have been the ones to make the world, but they would certainly take all the credit given to them.

His face was a mask as he approached his supposed gods.

It is for Mythal and her alone that I am here. The others… They cannot be trusted, even those who appear to be pleased by this situation.

“Kneel, Wolf,” the silver lady commanded.

He dropped into a deep bow before them, his head lowered and arm resting upon his knee.

“You have performed a great service for the People—descending into the realm of the Children of Stone and ripping their power straight from its roots. We owe you a great debt, each of us. Our cities would crumble at their insistence, and you alone stood to bring them to heel.”

He said nothing, and did not meet their eyes. It was not his place to speak at a gathering of his gods.

Elgar’nan spoke next, his voice like rolling thunder. “It is at my wife’s insistence that you be exalted into our ranks. Though I have my own suspicions, it is not the place to voice them here.”

Sylaise approached him, a golden circlet in her palms. She would have designed it herself, her husband smelting the ore to make the crown. Howling wolves would sit on either side of his forehead, reminding all of who he was. The evanuris placed the crown upon his head, kissing him gently right below where the circlet sat. The slender woman stepped back into her place between her sister and husband, gown swishing gently against the floor.

“Arise, Fen’Harel, and leave your old self behind. What you were no longer exists, replaced by what it is you will become.” Mythal’s words were like the ocean, battering against the coast. He found himself suppressing a shiver as he stood before them.

“May you find peace along the path, Wolf.”

She had not dismissed the other gods before Falon’Din and Dirthamen had already turned to leave. Their action would be seen as an affront and he was sure Mythal would have noted it. Her sons had come, but they did not agree with her decision. He had known that his ascension would have detractors. The evanuris did not like to share power.

He turned to see another figure had taken their place towards the back of the room.

It was a smiling woman, one he could hardly place.

Then he remembered, suddenly.

Vhenan… I do not belong here. Not any longer.

The image shimmered and he was back in the tower again.

“That was not so much a desire, as it was a memory. An interesting choice for you to recreate.”

The woman nodded, smiling. “You wished that it had turned out a different way—that you had walked away from that meeting. That you had left whole, as opposed to leaving as a pawn for those who were supposed to be your equals.”

He sighed. “I carry a great many regrets, but I could not have saved my People had I not stood among the evanuris.”

The woman who held his lover’s face smirked. “Oh, and you still believe you saved the People? I still think that has yet to be seen. You wish to save them. You wish a great many things. That does not make it so in your world that is so resistant to change. Stay here with me and you can be anything you wish. I will show you.”

He saw himself in front of a great mirror on an island floating in the sky. Before him stood the Inquisitor among a sea of unmoving Qunari. She moved towards him quickly and he turned away from her as she approached.

“Solas!”

He turned back towards her, his breath catching in his throat. “So, you’ve found me at last, vhenan. I suspect you have questions.”

She was furious, looking about her with her sword brandished towards him. “Speak, and perhaps I will listen.”

He nodded. “As you wish. What would you wish to know?”

She grimaced. “Do not toy with me. I would have the truth from you. Tell me of how you betrayed me, betrayed the People. I know who you are, Fen’Harel.” She spat the last word towards him and he found himself involuntarily stepping backwards.

“You already have the truth then, do you not?” He found himself saying. He wanted to run to her, to hold her, to prostrate himself before her. Instead he did none of those things.

“Did you ever truly love me, or was that just another of your lies? God of betrayal, deception. I should have known.”

He balked. “Vhenan…”

She shuddered, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. She was mourning, even through her anger. “Do not presume to call me that, Solas. Not when you have given me nothing but falsehoods. I am dying. Speak quickly so that I may leave this world in peace.”

“I did not lie to you when I confessed my affections. That was no act, even if you do not care to believe it. And now you must understand why it could not continue. Not if this were to be the outcome.”

She laughed. “Did you not think I would understand? Am I not enough of a person to even be given that choice?”

He shook his head. “No, that is not why I could not tell you. And you are a person to me. You have been for a very long time. That was why…”

She frowned. “Then why would you still destroy it all?”

“This world was a mistake that I need to undo.”

“You cannot always keep running from your problems, Solas. We will find you, eventually.”

“I know.  But I must try even so.”

“I loved you too. I love you still. That is why I cannot let you do this. I came to stop you.”

He shook his head, smiling. “You know that there is only one thing that will stop me, vhenan. And you do not have the strength to do it. Your emotions will get in the way.”

She laughed, drawing her blade. “That is precisely the reason why I am the only person who can finish this, Solas.” At that moment, the anchor in her hand flared, turning the sky a bright green. In a moment of distraction, she had crossed the short distance between them. She was a hair’s breadth away from him before she grabbed his arm, pulling him into a kiss.

He felt her blade slide through his stomach, the steel passing through him like he was made of silk. He did not stop it—had no more desire to. Blood rose up through his throat like bile, dripping from his mouth. He made a sign with his hand and her anchor flared again.

“You knew that coming here was suicide, did you not, vhenan? I can kill you just as easily as you can kill me. Easier, even.”

“I should hope so. I came to die here with you. You’re a damned fool. I love you, but you have no idea what you would do.”

“It is foolish to think this could end any other way, vhenan. That we could avoid killing each other like this. A kind fantasy to indulge in, but not one that meets with reality.” He kissed her, leaving a trail of his blood against her lips. “For what little it is worth, I am glad it was you.”

He felt himself slumping in her arms. Her anchor was dissolving her slowly—she would not have more than a few minutes left in this world. And neither would he, if he judged his own situation correctly. He had failed her, failed the People, and lost them both.

Fitting.

He could barely keep his eyes open. She was stroking his head with her one remaining hand, the right half of her body nearly gone.

“You are a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world…”

She smiled at him, despite everything, kissing his forehead. “Why not this one?”

“I can’t.”

Her voice grew faint as she continued to fade away. “Remember, you had a choice. You chose incorrectly.”

“I am sorry, vhenan. For everything.”

Her last words were a whisper in the breeze, so soft that he was not sure if they were real or not. “I know.”

The last of her body disintegrated and he was left there, in his island hovering amongst the clouds, utterly alone, blood slowly pooling from his weak body.

The vision shimmered again, and Solas found himself facing the demon of desire. His body was whole, not bleeding out on the ground. He brushed himself off, looking at her.

“Oooooh, you do love your little pains, my sweet. That was absolutely delicious.” The demon was licking her lips, staring at him.

He frowned. “Are you going to permit me to leave?”

She laughed. “And why would I do that?”

“We’ll just spend all of eternity here reliving the same scenarios if you never allow me to leave from this place. If I can go back into the world, then I can return here with new material. And you can help me, again. You know my true desire. To see this through to the end. And once I am done, I will return to you. Be so kind as to grant me what I wish.”

Her lips pursed, considering. “Hmm… That’s an interesting proposition. Usually people just threaten to kill me and then I have to end them. Very sad. I like you more than most.”

He laughed. “You may be the first to say that.”

She nodded. “You’ve intrigued me. I have decided, against my better judgement, to permit you to leave for now. I would like to see how the story ends.”

He sighed. “As would I.”

The demon extended her hand. “Once you find out, you’ll need to return to let me know. Do you promise?”

He nodded. “Yes. I will return. Though not forever.”

The demon frowned. “Damn. Well, it was worth trying. Even so. Goodbye, little mageling. I hope you find what you are looking for. Or maybe not! Then perhaps you’ll come back to me willingly.”

Solas opened his eyes. His head had been resting against his desk in the rotunda. He heard footsteps behind him and he stood quickly.

It was her.

“Solas…”

Vhenan, he wanted to call. He wanted to run to her, to pull her into his arms and apologize for everything. To stop the lie and to give himself fully to her. He wanted their future, their child, their life together. He wanted her more than he had wanted anything else in his life.

But that way brings only pain. For her and I both. And that I cannot abide.

He pushed aside his emotions, sliding back into the mask, pretending like she was not the one his soul called out for.

“Inquisitor. How may I be of service?”

[imakemywings]

Honestly idec if Solavellan ends in tragedy that’s why we all here anyway we’re in love with the tragedy of their story so as long as it’s fulfilling BW has full permission to rip out my fucking heart just make it beautiful

[buttsonthebeach]

I hope you don't mind me dropping another prompt for you! "Passionate kiss", Solavellan~

Oh man, this one got away from me in a good way! Have some post-balcony scene, pre-sleeping together Ellana and Solas, with a mini-retelling of “Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts” thrown in, AND a Hamilton quote I’ve been dying to use since I first started writing these two crazy kids.

If you are interested in my original/longer WEWH retelling, which is from Bull, Vivienne, and Varric’s POVs, you can check out the chapter “Helpless.”

@stardustlings - I think this also fulfills your prompt for “when did Ellana realize she was in love with Solas”!

Pairing: Solavellan, Inquisition timeframe

Rating: Mature for some steamy make-outs and sexual references (incidentally, it references Ellana’s first husband Mahanon and the fact that they were quite young at the time of their arranged marriage, but they were both considered adults by their clan. Just a heads up.)

****

Ellana had slept with her small share of men. Always casually, always with an understanding between them that it was a dalliance. Rarely more than once with the same man. Sex for her was a physical release like any other, like going for a long hike through the woods and climbing the tallest tree she could find, or practicing trick shots with her bow, or hunting, or sparring with one of the clan’s hunters or warriors (which did, now and then, lead to sex). She needed it sometimes, when her own fingers weren’t enough, and there was no shame in seeking it.

It was different with long-dead Mahanon of course. Mahanon and his brown eyes and his nervous, fumbling hands and his determination to please her. They’d found sex together. Found something in those six months they were bonded that she might have even called lovemaking, by the end. She wondered now, a decade later, if what they had was really love, or just the rush of two adolescent virgins who’d been asked to play house by a desperate new Keeper. She wondered sometimes what they would be like now if he hadn’t died. How many children they might have had. If that love would have grown or soured. It was a pointless exercise, anyway. There was no going back in time. She remembered him fondly when she did think of him.

What Ellana hadn’t had much of in her life was men who would kiss her.

Really kiss her.

Not until Solas and his full soft lips and his hands clutching her to him in the Fade, the little shake of his head when he drew back, and then the way he dove back for her, again, like he was drowning without her lips. Or like the way he did on her balcony - slow, gentle, and consuming.

Or the way he did in the alcove of the door that led from the rotunda to the ramparts the day after - a soft, reverent press of lips. He let out a little breath when he pulled back. His lips moved like he wanted to kiss her again. He’d been holding his breath for her.

Then, of course, there was the kiss a few days after that, the eve of their departure for Halamshiral, when she stopped by late at night under the pretense of telling him what time they would leave in the morning, the good night kiss that wouldn’t end. She’d put her hand on his chest when she said it. Good night. He’d put his hand over hers, just to keep it there, and then his other hand under her chin, lifting it towards him.

“Good night, vhenan.”

It was a soft kiss at first, lips fit perfectly together. Then she cupped his cheek to hold him close - and then his arms slid around her back to hold her - and then she was holding his face in both her hands and he’d sucked her bottom lip between his. When she opened her mouth against his he followed, flicked his tongue against hers, and the grateful noise she made came straight from her chest. His hands dropped down to cup her ass and bring her closer, higher, so she was on the tips of her toes, and that made her wobble, so it was natural that they fell towards the couch, her underneath him. She had a moment to look at him then. His eyes dark. His lips pink and his face flushed. Her heart raced. What a wonder it was to be kissed by someone who wanted you for who you were and not just for a night. To be kissed by someone who loved you. She’d forgotten.

She pulled him down by the collar of his tunic and kissed him again, hard, and this time he was the one who made a grateful, hungry sound. He didn’t seem to know where to put his hands. On either side of her head - on her cheek - on her side, just barely grazing the swell of one breast. She wasn’t entirely sure either. She wanted ran her hands over the smoothness of his scalp, down his neck, along his shoulders, down his back. Steady wet heat pooled between her legs - an ache began, a pressure, a need to have this man, this man, closer and closer and closer. And the noises he made as they kissed - needy and greedy and worshipful noises, all hers. She threw one leg over his hip, hauled him closer, pressed their bodies together and felt at once the swell of his own desire pressed against her thigh and she had to rub against it. He groaned, dropped his weight further, ground once, twice into her center, and she didn’t even have the dignity to be embarrassed by the high sound she made. Yes. He wanted her, he wanted her -

He pulled away.

Not far. He just raised up on one knee and planted his other foot on the floor. He was out of breath. Flushed all the way to the tips of his ears now. He looked down at her.

“I apologize,” he said. “I -”

Now he rose completely from the couch and turned his back. She caught a motion of his hands that he probably thought was discreet, and had to suppress another thrill despite her confusion.

“Have something to hide there?”

He froze. Of course, she said it before she thought about it. Damn her.

“Solas, I’m not bothered that you were - ah - that is to say - I was rather enjoying myself.”

He turned around and folded his hands behind his back. Then he seemed to reconsider, and offered her a hand instead, helping her off the couch.

“I had that impression.” His voice. Damn him and his voice. And the quirk of his lips. Never a full smile from him, but she knew what it meant. “I did not draw away because I was bothered by you. And I was reasonably sure you were not bothered by my - state. It is only that we must both get an early start tomorrow, as you so thoughtfully came and told me.”

It wouldn’t take long some part of her mind shouted. She’d had her share of those encounters. Quick, searing, breathless affairs. But she stilled herself and looked into his eyes instead. There was something else here that held him back. He’d been alone for a long time. She shouldn’t rush him.

“Yes. True.”

Solas looked down, quickly. “I hope I have not disappointed you.”

“No - of course you haven’t, vhenan.” She curled her fingers into fists just to hold onto the sweetness of that word. “I am happy to steal any moment with you I can.”

The truth of those words followed her back to her own room. She would take any moment with him she could. Even in the midst of death, of chaos, of the gnawing, debilitating fear she felt at the thought of what waited for her in Halamshiral - in the midst of the nightmare that was Haven, that was Redcliffe - she would take any moment with him that she could. She’d run down to his room impulsively the day he told her he loved her, and said the words back to him. Now she felt their weight.

I love him.

Again and again on that trip to Halamshiral those words ran through her mind - when she caught glimpses of him riding ahead of her, or when she saw him bickering with Dorian and Vivienne about some particular of magic, or when he sat next to her at their campfire and helped her run through the list of Orlesian nobles whose names she needed to know, never once losing his calm, even when she swore and threw down the paper whose words still seemed to swim in front of her barely literate eyes. She thought it when he stopped and offered to help a farmer whose well had run dry, when he closed the eyes of a soldier who’d been left for dead, when he and Blackwall played Diamondback in the evenings. He was kind, and brave, and worldly, and there was nothing that his mind couldn’t do, and somehow he loved her.

The sight of him alone kept her anchored in that long, hellish night of secrets and betrayals and masks. It was the only thing that could lift her heart at the end of the night when she stood, tired and sore and disillusioned, on the balcony in the warm night air. He put his hand on the small of her back, and she felt the weight of the words again.

I love him.

They danced, and eventually he leaned in and kissed her slowly, deeply, just out of sight of the party, and she felt them settle into her bones. She loved him, and it was not a small love, or an easy love, or a young love like the one she’d known. It was a root that went from her chest deep down into the earth. It took her breath away.

“I love you,” she said when the kiss ended. Quietly. A whisper against his mouth. Not the brash confession she’d offered him hours after he kissed her on her balcony. A promise.

He closed his eyes. He kissed her forehead, and, without looking at her, gave the words back to her.

“I love you.”

Both their voices were more unsteady than the first time they said it. Ellana wondered why. They were solid words - but there was a helplessness in saying them. An utter surrender. They held tight to each other in the shadows outside the ballroom, and in the back corner of her mind, in a place not consumed by fear and darkness and all the danger to come, she began to imagine a world where they could make good on that promise. That surrender.

[thecommandersinquisitor]

Solavellan - Tell me it’s not over

Lemme tell you I have NO time whatsoever to be writing AT ALL, but this post by @liaragaming inspired me and here we are. Hereby; my first ever DA fanfic. Enjoy.

Lavellan woke up... last thing she remembered was entering the fade and getting knocked her off her feet with a spell, one which sent her soaring instantly. She had only seen a glimpse of him, and all she could remember after that was darkness. She didn’t know what she had expected from this, but that was not it. Nevertheless, aside from some bruises she seemed unscathed. Her eyes adjusted to the light and she scanned for any sign of the Divine’s champion, the new blood who was to serve as the surprise element. She  found her fast. She knew he had tried to go easy on her the moment she looked at the state that their new champion, was in. Her broken body was bloodied and broken on the ground, heaving... yet it was the sight the person next to her which knocked the breath right out of her lungs, once more. She noticed the determination in his eyes as he looked down at the one who had taken over the saviour mantle, a woman she had personally helped to train. Solas had purposefully not looked directly at her when she entered, back towards the entrance, but he had been waiting. The trap spell closed as soon as she entered. He had been expecting her, no doubt about it. He had known she’d want to go in first. Had to have known. Just as he knew that the woman  who walked in right behind her was his brand new adversary. As she closed in on them, as quietly as possible, it was blatantly clear that the new champion was struggling to hold on to consciousness while Solas kneeled at her side. The discussions the two had had as to how Solas had to be stopped suddenly seemed to speak of so much hubris... you don’t expect that you can kill a god. He either hadn’t noticed or pretended not to notice her slowly getting to her feet. “ Na melana sahlin.”  Some sparks came from his hand. No. Solas intended to cast a lightning spell, which he perceived the fastest and most merciful option to finish off his contender. Right when Solas lowered his sparking hand in the direction of the new champion’s chest intending he felt cold steel against his skin. He nearly reveled in it, knowing exactly who would be holding the handle of the blade. He had been too worried about her to charge the spell, afraid to send her into a coma rather than into a long sleep. He could have cast her out again, yet something stopped him. Perhaps he should have known better. “ I see you still know when to take advantage of the element of surprise. Good.” Lavellan was fighting back the tears welling up when she felt her old scars getting ripped open again at the mere sound of his voice. She had carefully tended to them, trying to numb the pain of his absence... now he was present again she felt no salvation. Just an equivalent of a jagged knife, digging into them, making the wounds a little deeper this time. She was convinced nothing could rival the pain of seeing him walk away. Of chasing him every night in her dreams. But this was worse; it felt worse. She knew something like this would happen sooner or later and she could not anticipate how it would feel but she expected herself to be stronger. “ Learned it from the best, didn’t I, Fen’harel.” Her words carried the hurt of his betrayal, the consequence of his selfish desire to be near her, to be hers. 

Even after all this time she hadn’t moved on. He’d been watching her, hoping she would. That she would be able to live happily until he could fulfil his goal. He had convinced himself it was for the best not to drag on the inevitable, to give her a clean cut which would heal faster. Yet feeling her physical presence close to him weakened that resolve. She had left the world of the mirages, of the dream images, and stood there looking more like a god than he ever had.  In a different time, different circumstances she would have been his and he would have been hers. He would never had let her slip through his fingers. However, this was no such world. Her voice cracked a little when she spoke to him.“ Solas’ piercing stare reached her eyes, a small smile settling on his lips as she looked on. “What are you so smug about this time?”  “ Garas quenathra?” Lavellan kept her arm at the ready, her only arm, ready to pierce right through his abdomen. She wondered if it would even work. “  I’m here because I swore that I would save you. So don’t make me do this, Solas. If you ever loved me, ... let me take her back. “ He exhaled but didn’t look angry. Patient. Waiting. Holding back something she couldn’t put her finger on.  “It’s not too late to change your mind, Solas. There has to be another way.” “ This cannot be stopped. You know this.” “ It can be, damnit. I have to believe it can be. This destiny has taken too much away from me, I won’t let it take you. Var lath vir suledin.” Lightning flared up in the palm of his hand again, he turned around and looked at the body staring up at him from the dirt. “Ir abelas.” He felt the steel make a cut, barely grazing his skin enough to draw blood, but enough to catch his attention. He looked back at her.  Her beauty stunned him even as she had tears pouring down her face, her irises even brighter agains the red around them. Even when breaking down, she still somehow managed to look powerful. Whether it was due to or in spite of the tragedy their love entailed he did not know... but he nevertheless had to resist the urge to reach out to her. He knew that he could strike her down in a moment’s notice. He had blood on his hands already. Enough to colour the fade a tint of red in his dreams, but part of him knew that he could not kill her. He didn’t look away, staring into her eyes the way he used to before.  “ We both know you’re not going to do that… vhenan “   She remembered how his kisses felt, or she thought she did. After all that happened she wondered to which extent they were calculated, measured, composed. Her memories had been corrupted by all that had happened, she couldn’t stop second-guessing everything he had done, said, felt. She kept telling herself it had been real but... perhaps he had been a little too aware of what was bound to happen for it to be genuine. Perhaps he had only told her that as a final mercy as well. His words echoed through her head as he looked at him, once more on the verge of killing an innocent woman. ‘I take no pleasure in this.’ If it was a lie, she was grateful for it.   The woman behind him raised a dagger which he magically sent flying off into the distance. The  divine’s champion, had to stay out of this. Perhaps he should not have fought so fairly... but he knew he had done it for her, his doomed love. “ Vhenan...”  “ Ar'din nuvenin na'din ma'arlath. Yet If you don’t back down... you won’t give me a choice.” He threatningly made his staff spark. She didn’t break eye contact but noticed some green unidentified magic spark from his staff collecting energy regardless, the faint glow on one side of his face. She knew it was meant to serve as a warning. “ I have seen what you can do, Solas. So we both know how that would likely end. But if I can’t save you, I have to try to stop you.” “ You can’t.” “ Then I’ll die trying. You took my heart when you left anyway...You have always told me that I had yours... Vhenan.” She scoffed, remembering how torn apart she felt, how broken he left her. Why did she try to spare him from that information? He did that to her... went away for what? To ease his own conscience? To hell with that. “ Speaking of which... did you think it helped me when you left like that? Do you really think I would move on? ‘c mon, I know you love to hear yourself speak... for a long time so did I. Uth Ar lath, Solas. Did you know that? Do you even care?”  He shook his head, green flames still faintly reflecting in his eye, before cursed under his breath before he planted down his staff and sent her own weapon magically clattering to the ground. Next thing she knew she was in his arms; he grabbed her the way he used to except with a lot more force behind it. One hand reached around her waist and pulled her close while his other hand held the side of her face and pulled her into a kiss. The kind that obliterated her old doubts. The kiss felt all-consuming, hungry, needy. He kissed her as if his life depended on it. There was something instinctual in the way his lips, his tongue, found hers. The wolf within overruled the mind, the better judgement. No thinking, no barrier, just the two of them as the rest of the world could go fuck itself. In the way he pulled her closer to him, she could tell he wanted this as badly as she did. The shape of his body felt familiar against hers, while his touch awoke her body from a slumber she had been unaware of, singeing her skin. Bringing new life to her tired bones. She didn’t know how much time had passed when he broke it off to cup her face between his hands, leaned his forehead against hers and said  “ Ar lath, ma vehnan.” With a wave of his hand he made both himself and his lover vanish. At that, Leliana’s champion was slowly trying to get up off the ground. “ What... what the hell just happened?”

Translation of my attempt at elven:

Na melana sahlin.” = your time has come

Garas quenathra = why are you here

Var lath vir suledin = our love will endure/find a way

Ir abelas = I’m sorry

Ar'din nuvenin na'din ma'arlath = I don’t want to kill you

Uth Ar lath, Solas = I will always love you Solas

Ar lath, ma vehnan. = I love you, my heart