#solas spoilers

[bearlytolerant]

[krems-chair]

I've been thinking a lot today about how easily people condemn Solas for making the choices he did or for so regularly refusing the help and love his friends or a romanced Lavellan extended to him and how that's a very easy thing to do from behind a screen in a fictional game where you are able to (with very few exceptions) curate a world in which your allies are loyal and your decisions will go the way you'd like them to.

And yeah, it's a game and that's kind of the point, but if I were to look at it a little more deeply (and who am I kidding, I got back on this website exclusively to process the aftermath of Veilguard) I'd say that there's so much to be found in wondering if the protagonists in any of the other games would have fared better in similar conditions.

Apparently I can't stop making long posts, so buckle in.

What would Morrigan have become in a world where the Warden never stumbled upon her cottage with Flemeth, if she never got the chance to see more of the world and decide what she wanted out of it? With just her mother (who, coincidentally in this Solas-y discussion is also kind of Mythal) and no support, who is to say what she would have unleashed upon the Korcari Wilds one day when the confines of her cage became too much?

What about Leliana? She, too, suffered at the hands of a very controlling abuser who tried to convince her that one lifestyle was all that her future held. What do we think she would have become if not for a chance meeting in Lothering with someone who could help her face down the woman that molded her?

Fenris, a character MANY people are just fine with was incredibly ready to kill a mage on sight if need be, no questions asked. Where do we think his story goes if he doesn't have someone in his corner early on enough in the game? If he doesn't get caught by Danarius, he's almost certainly going to end up on a murder spree, and he doesn't even have Justice whispering in his head to do it.

Cullen. Just all of him. It's an absolute miracle he hasn't snapped by the time you encounter him in Inquistion, and even then you get the benefit of intervening at a critical point in his story several times over.

Almost every other character could face this analysis and I think we'd reach a result that suggests perhaps the only thing keeping them lovable is your playable character's investment in their well-being.

Enter Solas. We don't meet him when he's twenty to thirty something and on the precipice of falling down a dark path. He's been there for literal millennia already, and with the exception of one close friend he's been alone. And not even Felassan is enough because of the years Mythal had prior to that friendship to make Solas exactly who she needed him to be.

I've had shit friends before that aren't just good at isolating people, they're naturals. I barely made it through high school with my mental health in place (in fact, looking back, it almost certainly wasn't). When you think you've got a true friend and they need something of you, it's so easy to blindly follow them because you think your love is enough to mark someone's soul as trustworthy. Solas doesn't learn that lesson until it's too late, and even when he does he can't turn back: the spirit that was once Wisdom has been exposed to several of the worst ancient elves to ever exist and now he has to stand his ground rather than let it all fall, because that is what Pride would dictate. Admitting that the person you gave your love and labor and time to is a monster is hard. And he was alone.

Give me Morrigan after centuries with her mother. Show me Leliana after the years have become a blur and the only voice whispering in her ear is Marjolaine's. Show me the innocent mages that don't make it through if all Fenris has for years and years and years are the scars Danaris left him and the means to make more. Show me Cullen if he stays in a chain of command under a Knight Commander who knows exactly what he fears and holds it over his head for so long he forgets what it was like to be an excited kid begging the templars for training because he just wants to keep people safe.

We get companions in these games who are broken by the time they're twenty. Solas has spent thousands of years in servitude to a cause of a woman he believed to be his only friend. He doesn't know who he is without her influence, anymore, only exists physically in the first place because she asked it of him and then asked again and again and again. He doesn't have a witty band of merry fools to pull him out of that cycle. He has Felassan, but he has him during war after war after war in the hopes of freeing others from the very situation that torments him.

Trauma from war affects everyone touched by it, nevermind the fact that Solas is actively responsible for saving the lives of thousands and feels each life like a weight around his neck because maybe he can save them like he cannot save himself. We should always be worried about the people trying to do the most good. Who is looking out for them? Why are they so determined to help others? Could it be that it's something they wish others had done for them?

Solas certainly feels comradery with Felassan from working together to free slaves from the very people he helped put in power because Mythal told him it would be okay only to leave him with the pieces, but even the Solas that Felassan knows has been turned into an attack dog shying away from the touch of the very person it desires to be near above all others by the time their relationship forms.

The fact that Solas is able to try and show the Inquisitor who he is at all is a miracle as far as I'm concerned, a sign of a peaceful spirit of Wisdom who loves knowledge for the sake of it finally sensing that there might be a chance to embrace its nature again.

Yeah, if you give him what he has come to expect from people with power, if you let near-absolute power over the masses corrupt you, he's going to bristle and try to shut your inquisitor down.

But if you show him even the smallest bit of kindness? If you treat him like the starving wolf he talks about and feed him instead of fighting him? God, it shatters his entire existence.

It's called a cycle of abuse for a reason. Finding friendship, finding the love of your long-ass life can be the first step in realizing there's better out there. But the time it takes to learn that? When you're too weary to even reach out for help in the first place and afraid of every kind word or gesture because you've never known such tenderness (on a platonic OR romantic level, both matter so so much) before?

Part of the compelling tragedy of Solas is that it's almost Orpheus-like how he knows what he has been made into and still cannot stop himself from yearning for more, from turning around to see if just this once something has changed. You can't convince me that he hasn't spent years hoping that someone will hear the legend of the Dread Wolf and see it for what it is, a leash the Evanuris created for Mythal's whipping boy to ensure that even if he ever escapes them, the people he fought to save will hate him. And I cannot blame him for the shock and terror that consumes him when he realizes someone finally has.

You give me any of dragon age companions after the amount of time Solas spent under Mythal's thumb without your character's intervention and you tell me how that looks.

You tell me if they're able to change at the first sign of something that feels too good to be true.

And then, I want you to tell me they're any less worthy of trying to save, especially when you know how good their best can be.

Solas might be hard for some fans to love, but it's only because he serves as the perfect representation of the beast we are all capable of becoming when the love that sustains us, assuming we receive any at all, is laced with poison.

The journey out of that place, out of a literal prison of regret, is brutal, and I'm thrilled that even with the many things about Veilguard I'm still struggling with, we have the chance to let Solas try again with the help of those who love him not because he never fell down, but because they believe in the beauty of a future where he gets back up again.

[inkedfictionista]

I must confess, it’s growing on me. I love him as the sad little egg he is, but that ginger hair is just 👌

[sorceresssundries]

The Tale of Fen'Harel

A gift for my wonderful friend - @mumms-the-word

Once there roamed a lonely wolf, A dreamer lost in ancient woods,  Where pride and pain had stopped his heart from healing. He shaped an age, then let it fall, A faded God who lost it all, His pack consumed by teeth and lies he sharpened.

He woke alone, in an unknown land, And clutched his grief like a lover’s hand,   ‘Till the softness of it calloused into anger.  He planned to rip the world apart, Then one soft flicker sparked his heart, And the brightness of it almost cleared the shadows.

But her love was not enough to sway, The course was set, the price was paid— He turned his back, to walk alone forever. And through the years when he was lost, She kept her heart between his jaws. Worlds may burn, but hope remains eternal. She’s the herald of a second chance, Who took the wolf by heart and hand, His anchor to the world he thought he’d broken.  And now their spirits guard the veil, They gave their lives so peace prevails.

In blissful dreams, you may even see them dancing.

[alherix3]

Solas's portrayal of emotions is amazing. How he takes an excited breath when he sees his beloved. How his voice trembles and breaks when the realization comes to him that she is really here.

[elspethdekarios]

Okay we all know about the Solas/Varric banter with the man on the island, but I was listening to DAI banter earlier (as one does) and now that we know about the titans/lyrium bodies/the blight there are several others that are SO GOOD and worth talking about so here goes. I might not be saying anything new here but I needed to get it out of my brain.

Trickster Figures in Dwarven Literature

Solas: By the end of Hard in Hightown, almost every character is revealed as a spy or a traitor. Varric: Wait, you read my book? Solas: It was in the Inquisition library. Everyone but Donnen turned out to be in disguise. Is that common? Varric: Are we still talking about books or are you asking if everyone I know is a secret agent? Solas: Are there many tricksters in dwarven literature? Varric: A handful, but they're the exception. Mostly they're just honoring the ancestors. It's very dull stuff. Human literature? Now there's where you'll find the tricky, clever, really deceptive types. Solas: Curious. Varric: Not really. Dwarves write how they want things to be. Humans write to figure out how things are.

So it's obvious in hindsight that Solas is asking about trickster figures because he is one himself, but now that we know what we know, I think it's incredibly poignant that he's specifically asking about trickster figures in dwarven literature. It makes me wonder if he's not only asking out of curiosity but because he wants to know if the dwarves write about him. Is he a trickster figure in their legends too? Now that so much time has passed since ancient Arlathan, do the dwarves have some twisted memory of the Evanuris like the Dalish do? Do they have a tale about Fen'Harel who tranquilized the Titans and severed the dwarves' ties to their ancestry?

I don't quite know what to think of Varric's last line: "Dwarves write how they want things to be. Humans write to figure out how things age." I wonder, though, if this eases Solas's concern about appearing in their mythology. If dwarven writing is idealistic/optimistic, there's probably a slim chance the truth will be revealed that way. Maybe the fact that humans write "to figure out how things are" gives him pause - but I think humans aren't concerned enough about the elves to write themselves into discovering his secrets, so I don't think Solas really has a reason to concern himself with trickster figures in human literature.

The Lyrium Trade

Solas: Is it true that the entire dwarven economy relies upon lyrium? Varric: Mostly. We've got the nug market cornered as well. Solas: And the dwarves of Orzammar have never studied lyrium? Varric: If they have, they certainly haven't shared anything up here. Why? Solas: It is the source of all magic, save that which mages bring themselves. Solas: Dwarves alone have the ability to mine it safely. I wondered if they had sought to learn more. Varric: The folks back in Orzammar don't care much about anything but tradition.

And here we have yet another attempt by Solas to see what the dwarves know about him without giving himself away. He wants to know if they're aware of what lyrium actually is, and, by extension, if they know about the history of the Titans and the Evanuris. There are several banters between these two where Solas is incredibly curious about Orzammar. Varric is like "wtf man, stop asking me about Orzammar, I'm a surface dwarf" and Solas gets frustrated that Varric isn't interested in his ancestry at all. This is partially because Solas places so much importance on ancestry in general, but part of his frustration has to be because Varric can't tell him what he wants to know. Also, imagine waking up after however many years and the dwarves are sustaining their economy almost completely on the literal blood of their ancestors - the ancestors you destroyed. That has to be horrifying. Harding brings this up at the end of her personal questline in Veilguard, when you return to Kal-Sharok and interact with the carvings on the wall. It's different for her, of course, because those are her own people, but the sentiment is the same, and the question is the same: would the dwarves sustain themselves on the lyrium trade if they knew the truth?

In the same lyrium vein:

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing. Varric: What's so confusing about endless darkspawn? Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter. Dwarves control the flow of lyrium. They could tighten their grip on it. Varric: It's hard to get the attention of the humans when the darkspawn aren't up here messing with their stuff. Solas: You're active in the Carta. You know your people could tug the purse strings. You could claim sovereign land on the surface, or demand help restoring the dwarven kingdom, but you don't. Varric: You're not saying anything I haven't said myself, Chuckles. Orzammar is what it is.

I think this is Solas trying to ease his guilt by offering solutions. Is it a little egotistical of him to assume the carta/dwarves/Varric haven't already thought of this? Yeah, but he's Solas AKA Pride Personified. Anyway, I think this is Solas's way of assuaging his guilt just a little bit.

A Once Mighty Hero

Solas: I am sorry to have bothered you with my questions about your people Varric. I see so much of this world in dreams. Humans, my own people, even qunari. Dwarves alone were lost to me, save scattered fragments of memory where some spirit cared to watch. Now I know why I see so little. Varric: And why is that? Solas: Dwarves are the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood. Undirected. Whatever skill of arms it had, gone forever. Although it might twitch to give the appearance of life, it will never dream. Varric: I'd avoid mentioning that to any Carta, Chuckles. They might not take it the right way.

Okay, Solas is definitely doing his twisting-the-truth thing in the first lines. He knows why dwarves have little to no presence in the Fade, because he is the reason, but he's so close to revealing the truth here. Not about him, and not about how, but about why. The image he paints of the once mighty hero in a pool of blood sounds metaphorical, but it isn't. The dwarves - so reliant on the lyrium trade, living where lyrium grows, mining it, their livelihoods revolving around it - are quite literally lying in a pool of their own blood.

Solas sees what the dwarves are now compared to what they could have been. They're an imitation of their once-great ancestors. And it's his fault (and Mythal's, but this ain't about her). In this particular banter, Solas seems to pity the dwarves, hence Varric's warning, but he's the only one alive who knows the truth. The dwarves don't pity themselves: in another banter where Solas asks Varric if he misses the stone, Varric responds with "How could I miss what I never had?" - and that applies here as well. The dwarves may "twitch to give the appearance of life" to Solas, but that's his guilt talking. Varric isn't insulted (as far as we know) because he doesn't place much importance on his heritage and he understands that Solas isn't trying to be demeaning, but he hears the pity in his statements - he wouldn't warn him about speaking to the Carta otherwise.

Anyway this was a lot of rambling and I'd love to hear anyone else's interpretation of these or other lines too!

[vir-bellanaris]

Okay, but what if Solas tied Lavellan's life force to his like he has done with the Veil? What then?

[alstroermeria]

honestly I've never seen the appealing in solavellan

but Solas x Rook???

yeah. yeah I think I can do it

[nostalgiaclown]

I'm sorry this is sad but the song inspired

[wanderingjedi77]

Has anyone been able to unmask ghilan'nain in her flashback scene with Solas in the labs?

[mosswiind]

heavy late game veilguard spoilers ahead

imagine leliana, or cassandra, sure (or sure enough) that they were on the path the maker set before them. but instead of a grand Maker's plan, written into fate before they were even thoughts, all of the most important events in their lives turned out to be determined by their kind of shitty coworker

[theelibugs]

I AM ON A ROLL

ThIs scene actually kind of broke me so of COURSE I had to add to it.

So, Ravenas is my Inky's little brother (he calls her Faya). And when he learned his sister was alive and in love with Solas, he tried so hard to see him differently. And kind of came to appreciate him. His knowledge. His love of people. And maybe see him a little bit more than just 'Eh that useless asshole my sister loves.'

And Solas stomped on that. And Ravenas is hurt by it, which is only increased by how much Rav loved Varric.

[kestrelmando]

So...I understand the logistics would be wonky. But I would've loved another option for a Solas romanced Lavellan.

Give me a Lavellan who swore to stop Solas at all costs, who is horrified about his plans to tear down the Veil uncaring of any collateral damage. She works with Rook to parse his lying, betraying tongue and is angry and bitter.

She doesn't forgive him for murdering Varric, she doesn't forgive him for his part is getting so many people killed in the south and north of Thedas.

So at the end, when Rook and team are seemingly down for the count?

Lavellan gets him with the dagger. He's going to fix it and maintain the Veil whether he wants to or not.

Maybe she slices her palm too, because she'll be his personal ghost in the Fade prison and will pull him by the ear to make sure he's not doing dumb shit™️ again. Will she soften to him, begin to build something real after half a century? Perhaps.

[jams-sims]

So I just finished Dragon Age Veilgaurd and I'm convinced some very loud Gamers just don't want to play a game that just feels nice to play. Its like a nice bag of chips, I ate the whole fucking thing.

Anyway spoilers- spoilers for my ending and romance and general yappin.

I shoved Solas ass into veil- I have no history with him from the other games. Back when (the other da games) they were first released. I understood that Solas was one of the fan favorites, so I kind of went into this thinking I was going to become a fan- nah. At every turn this game chanted change is better. Letting go of the past, just means creating something new. Solas refused to change and at every turn betrayed Rook. I faught Mythal for no fucking reason that hard ass fight. Because I just tricked him, it felt way better for my scrappy Mourn Watcher.

There were moments where I could see the vision of Solas fuckers. He had some of the best witty dialogue. Also just the aguring between them was tasty at times. An then the ending happened and I was so fucking stunned. I kept saying "imma kill him," an even as I said that i was STILL feeling sorry for him. I stood firm though, locked his ass right up.

Hes the prefrect manipulator, he played on my emotions to the very end, very good job game.

My romance was Lucanis- I love him and idk how im gonna do other playthrough to romance anyone else. When he is so devoted and i love that so much. I talked about being emmrich girl and he turned out to be more of a best friend character for my Mourn Watcher.

All in all i liked this game- everyone giving it shit is just allergic to story thats not just fucking bleak all the gotdamn time. Sad shit still happened in this game. But damn- its like you can't enjoy some shit thats corny with out someone in your ear telling you how you shouldnt like it. Nah- we ball it was good i enjoyed it. This has been the first game i've completed this year.

[alherix3]

They are so beautiful. And their end too

[elspethdekarios]

Atonement

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

SFW, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2,821

! HUGE VEILGUARD SPOILERS !

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

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

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

“This is how you atone?”

“I told you it would be terrible.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did what had to be done.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You need to listen—”

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

“—able to give me a straight answer—”

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

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

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

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

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

He steeled himself with cold resolve and turned away.

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he choked through tears.

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

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

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

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

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

“My love—”

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

“Solas—”

“Would you truly—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ar lath ma vhenan. Bellanaris.”