#sule tael tasalal

[faerieavalon]

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Rating: Explicit Pairings: Solas/Elvhen OC, Felassan/Elvhen OC, Male Lavellan/Dorian, Others To Be Added

Ch 67:  Harilla  

[Read it on AO3]

The sound of returning soldiers drew Era’las’ attention. The few that were sent had collected others and they reentered the room in a tight formation that only broke to reveal their prize. 

Marassan looked terrible. Chains connected the cuffs at his wrists and ankles to the thick band around his neck. His clothes were tattered and torn worse than she had seen since speaking out on his behalf. His hair was a tangled mess and a new bruise was blooming on his cheek but somehow his eyes were still sharp and defiant. 

“Here stands the spy, First Mother. Let me teach him his place.”

“Well, well. Now this is interesting.” Mythal grinned. “With what offense is he charged?”

“He was followed for three nights, First Mother,” the av'ahnelan answered proudly. “Witnesses account for him stealing supplies from the kitchens and library. On the fourth night, he was seen in the outer reaches after dark, by the boundaries to the south. He met with a shadow creature and delivered a note. Our scouts were able to catch him easily.”

“And what of the contact? Was this shadow creature found?”

“No, First Mother.” The av'ahnelan grimaced, lowering his head. “It was more spirit than person and left no trace to follow.”

“Those eyes.” Mythal moved closer, staring at Marassan intently. “You were mistaken, av'ahnelan. There were two shadows that night and one now stands before me. It has been a long time since I have seen your face. Have you gotten slow in your age, Assan, or has overconfidence finally failed to protect you?”

Marassan smirked and bowed his head. “Luck is a flighty mistress, tarlan. Perhaps it was the bright stars of your realm that distracted me from being cautious?”

A knot tightened in Era’las’ throat, making it difficult to breathe. Ableas squeezed her hands gently but it did nothing to calm her racing heart. All it would take was the wrong word, the wrong tone, and Mythal could cut him down. Her tears finally broke, sliding warm and silent down her cheeks. 

Mythal grinned back at him, a feral light glinting in her eyes. “Oh I think something far more substantial than stars distracts you now.”

“Mythal, if I may provide assistance in this matter,” Fen’Harel stepped forward, his words and body language slow and soothing. “He is -”

“I know who he is.” Mythal cut him off with a click of her tongue. “You’ve saved your shadow from far too many fires of his own making. Not this time. I think I should like to see him deal with the consequences himself for once.”

“Meaning?”

“My people have had their trust violated. It’s only fair of them to desire satisfaction. My av'ahnelan wishes to defend my honor and defend it he will.” She lifted her hand and her voice to be heard by the crowd. “Get the spy a sword. If he wishes to keep his life, let him prove it.”

[Read the rest on AO3]

[fiadhaisteach]

Things I’ve Read This Week* - 2021.12.18

🎊100th TIRTW!!!🎊

...and last TIRTW*, but not last TIRTW. 😝

The weekly TIRTW* posts have been starting to feel more like a chore, rather than fun, so I think I'm going to switch to a more "standard" recommendation style posting. I've been getting better at commenting, which I think will help, and I'm not going to pressure myself to post something every week, which will definitely help.    🔸 If anyone wants to suggest themes, I'm certainly open to those and my ask box is open.

New Stories

Dalishious Elvhen Dictionary by dalishious (@dalishious) - Elvhen Dictionary - 3,628 words - WIP

Rereads

Unwritten by UnrealRomance - Solas/MGiT - 390,434 words - WIP

TheFall of Arlathan by Psalacanthea (@psalacanthea) - Solas/F!Lavellan - 38,525 words - HSE WIP (I did read my favorite bits of Schooling Pride too, but didn't have the emotional capacity for the full angstfest 😊)

Tumblr (re)Reads

😈 Claim prompt by @rosella-writes - Solas/F!Lavellan

Subscription Updates

Love Comes Home, Wolf's Pride by jasna - Solas/F!Lavellan (Ch. 18)

Wicked Things, What a Wicked Game to Play by Cracking Lamb (@crackinglamb) - Solas/MGiT (Ch. 69-70)

Love's Worth Running To, Love Run by JessTalksAlot (@jessitasquirrel) - Solas/F!Lavellan, background Iron Bull/M!Lavellan (Ch. 22)

Ma Ghilana Mir Bellanaris, Dir'vhen'an by oxygenforthewicked (@oxygenforthewicked) - Solas/NB!Lavellan (Ch. 22)

Chasing Ghosts, Heirloom by WickedWitchoftheWilds (@wickedwitchofthewilds​​) - Solas/OFC (Ch. 11)

She's Lived a Good Life by Kinako - MCiT (Ch. 31-32)

Kintsugi, Fragile World by angelslaugh (@skyerie) - {Solas/F!Lavellan, Felassan/F!Lavellan, F!Lavellan/TBD} (Ch. 27-28)

Eunoia by RosellaWrites (@rosella-writes) - Solas/F!Lavellan (Ch. 18)

Elvhenan: Tales from the Elven Empire, The Rise & Fall of Fen'Harel, The Rebel's Ascension by InArlathan (@in-arlathan) - Solas/OFC (Ch. 25)

Dreams, In Waking Dreams by AParisianShakespearean (@a-shakespearean-in-paris) - Cullen/F!Trevelyan (Ch. 93)

Vena Eolas: The Journey of an Elvhen Spirit, Sule Tael Tasalal - Until We Meet Again by faerieavalon (@faerieavalon) - {Solas/OFC, Felassan/OFC, Solas & Felassan}, past Abelas/OFC (Ch. 70)

Into the Cosmos, Into the Chaos by Pakhet (@shiver-the-tiefling) - {MGiT~MBiT, Solas/MGiT, Solas~MBiT} (Ch. 83)

Dissonant Verses, Dread Wolf Guide Us by Alexis_Trvlyn (@itsalexistrvlyn) - Solas/F!Lavellan (Ch. 17)

A Whole New World by RogueLioness (@roguelioness) - Solas/MGiT (Ch. 143)

» side note - multiple chapters may mean multiple updates; or might just be me refreshing my memory, reorienting myself in the story, or rereading some for fun.

*TIRTW & can recommend (previous weeks & TIRTW Key/Legend)

[inquisimer]

Stories of Thedas - Day 22: Waterfall

sad Mahariel is sad😭 as she takes care of Tamlen’s remains

wc: 536

~~~

Sari took Tamlen’s ashes with her when she left Denerim. 

It felt like an age had passed since she’d seen him whole, and another since she’d been forced to end his half-life. They’d burned his body separate from the darkspawn corpses and Wynne fashioned a makeshift urn to hold the ashes Sari so carefully collected. It took up most of her pack and weighed down her already burdened shoulders, but none of her companions were foolish enough to suggest that she let anyone else carry it. 

As the months passed and she became increasingly despondent, she would sit cross-legged by the fire and clutch the urn close to her heart. When the fire died down to barest embers, Alistair would come and pull her into the tent or, if she refused even that, wrap a blanket around her shoulders and sit by her in silence. 

But Alistair was gone and they wouldn’t let her carry his remains with her–he was important, unlike the elf who hadn’t lived.

It was selfish, truthfully. Although she no longer kept to the old ways, Tamlen had and he deserved the proper rites. But Sari couldn’t bring herself to send him away and, though she still loved her former clan dearly, in her last, bitter memories of them, the Keeper gave up on finding Tamlen. So, no, Sari wouldn’t give his ashes to the clan and Tamlen, wherever he was, would just have to forgive her for that. Or not.

It wasn’t like she was going to forgive herself. 

As in much of their youth, he was her only companion on the journey away from Denerim. She left the others behind, along with her armor and any foolish trappings the Wardens might have had of forcing her to stay. She cradled the urn like a child and cried: for Alistair, for Zevran, for all the mistakes she’d made and the wrongs she couldn’t make right. She cried for Tamlen and she cried for the girl he used to chase through the trees, catching butterflies. 

She didn’t find the courage to let go until many, many years later. After her trek to the west and the terrible discoveries there, after she brought that knowledge back to Avernus, after they used it to cleanse her blood of the Taint. It was only then that she worked up the nerve.

She took him back to the Brecilian Forest. He would’ve liked that, she hoped, to be laid to rest where they shared so many memories. It was a difficult path to walk. She saw ghosts of people who weren’t dead and memories of people she had killed around every bend and tree, but she managed to find a clearing they’d frequented when the clan camped nearby.

It was hardly large enough to be called such, just a little u-shaped space that butted up against a cliffside. A gentle stream of water trickled over the rocks and flowed into the creek that bisected the ground; it was there that she sat, and dangled her feet into the stream, and finally said goodbye to her oldest friend.

And as the last of his ashes drifted away with the current, “Sule tael tasalal.”

Until we meet again. 

[roseategales]

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN  —  ONE-SHOT.

fic rating: explicit. | categories: angst, smut. | pairing: solavellan. | content warnings: mentions of war. | word count: 558. | alternate link: ao3.

author’s notes: me? writing a 500 word fic AND working on my challenge? in one day? unheard of. but i had this idea in the middle of the night yesterday and couldn’t resist. recommended listening is i almost do by taylor swift. | sule tael tasalal, ma vhenan. = until we meet again, my heart/my home. credit for the elven and translation goes to fenxshiral.

                                                                          In her dreams, they meet again. In her dreams, he doesn’t leave.

He wraps his arms around her waist, the warmth of his chest on her back. He is without armor. So is she. They don’t speak. They don’t need to. Simple actions are plenty. Words would only complicate.

She turns, and he is still there. Still hers. The embrace doesn’t break. She cradles his cheek, like she would another life ago. His sea-grey eyes meet her forest-green, and whatever anxiety, whatever tensions they might have had fade away. The sweetness of summertide air and their kiss is a remedy to the salt and bitterness of their tears. Everything becomes right.

They fall into each other. Her mouth gives to the hunger of his, their tongues gliding and tangling and tasting again. He pulls her flush against him, and she clings on by his woolen sweater. Their hands caress and explore, rediscover, through the barriers of their clothes. Soon, they are shaking with desire and kneeling, entwined, on the soft verdant grass. Their separation is brief, for them to shed the layers. His sweater, tunic, breeches, her cloak, dress, boots. He tugs off his smalls and helps her with hers and her breastband.

He lays her on her back, bows over her. The golden sun is high above them, illuminating, banishing mists and shadows. She runs her hand across his marbled chest, down to the swell of his hip. Counts his scars, old and new. His fingers ghost along the virid cut of her limb. The words I’m sorry and we shouldn’t battle their way to the front of his disposition; before he can utter them, change his mind, change theirs, she captures his lips in another kiss. Reminds him and herself that pain must heal. That they must, too.

Her hushing of his penitence doesn’t stop. She takes him in her hand, strokes him slowly from base to tip, thumb swirling the fluid gathered there. Feels him harden and yield. He shudders, rocks into her touch, and moves to lavish her throat, collarbone and breasts with gentle markings. She arches and moans, an encouragement for him to find her sex. He keeps one arm braced beside her head, the other reaches down so his fingers can brush slick folds, circle her nub, slip within. They could come undone like that—with just their hands, studying, pressing on, watching how love and lust coalesce, how they both bloom with sounds of promise.

But if this life has taught them anything, it’s that moments like this are too few and too precious. And they could never have enough time, enough of them. Quickly, unsteadily, he withdraws his hand and pins hers to the side, hooks her legs around his waist; an unspoken question on panting, parted lips. She nods once. That’s all it takes. He releases her hand to let her hold him close, and lifts her hips to sink slow and deep into her. They move as one. Flesh on flesh. Heated skin on heated skin. Their moans, cries, a chorus, harmonious.

Eludysia wakes on one side of the war in Tevinter. Solas eludes her on the other. The dream, no manifestation of the Fade or reality, leaves her empty. “Sule tael tasalal, ma vhenan,” she whispers, to his side of the bed where she wishes he could be.

[johaerys-writes]

This is so beautiful!! Ara'lan looks absolutely gorgeous 😍❤

A commission of a thoughtful and serene ancient elf Ara’lan who belongs to the lovable @faerieavalon (https://faerieavalon.tumblr.com). Make sure to check out this writers fanfiction works too!

****Hit me up if you’d like to commission a painting or sketch from me****

[in-arlathan]

2019 Writer’s Round-Up

I was tagged by @faerieavalon. You are wonderful, thank you! <3

Since I quit my job in April to pursue writing as a career (yeah, I’m that crazy person), I’ve spend my time working on both original fiction and fanfiction and I’ll take both into account for this round-up. I hope this gives me the much-needed motivational boost for 2020.

Total word count: 132,229

Broken down

Original Works – 84,784

The Rebel’s Ascension – 19,827

A Little Light – 1,513

Winter’s Heart – 1,292

At Wit’s End – 991

To Heal The Hurt – 1,643

A Change of Heart – 859

Lessons Learned – 3,492

These Stolen Moments – 5,826

What Friends Are For – 2,178

First To The Keeper – 3,413

Mythal’s Mark – 3,791

The Scar – 2,620

Wow, just... holy sh*t. I can’t remember a single year in my life I wrote this much. And this not even taking revisions into account (I rewrote approx. 50,000 words on my novel). I know there are many writers out there who accomplish much more in the same amount of time but eff it, I’m proud of myself. Especially with all the OCD bullcrap, I had to deal with this year. Hell yeah!

Number of smut scenes: Zero. Yeah, you read that correctly. It’s not that I avoid writing them, I just feel weird writing smut. Am I a strange person? Probably... only time will tell.

New things I tried this year: Writing in English! I do consume most media in English these days (roundabout 90%), but I never wrote anything ficitional in that language. I learned so much by trying to transform my little headcanons into enjoyable stories. Oh, and revisions. Lots and lots of revisions. Especially for the orignal works to make them publishable. I’m on round 6 for my novel and I start to hate every single word in every single sentence, but it’s okay. I know it’ll be worth it in the end.

AUs. That’s a zero again, I guess. Sometimes I do hate my love for canon-compliance. I admire a lot of writers who can embrace their AUs whole-heartedly but I suck at it big time...

Writing others’ OCs. I never tried that, tbh. I’m too afraid to ruin them. 🙈

Favourite thing I wrote this year: Uh, this is a tough one. When it comes to emotional impact, I’d say it’s “To Heal The Hurt”. Otherwise, I really enjoyed “The Rebel’s Ascension” (and still do). I never expected to find so much happiness writing a pure Solas-centric fanfic without any romance.

Favourite fic I read this year: “Looking Glass” by Feynite. It was the first fanfic I read since I dropped out of the Star Wars fandom ten years ago and it delivered everything my Solavellan hungry soul desired after finishing my first Solas romance playthrough of DA:I. I've accumulated quite the reading list with amazing fics by many talented writers since then, but I haven’t gotten around to reading them yet. It just so happens that I can either write or read a lot, but not both. I’m terrible that way. But I’m determined to get to “Borderland Sorrows” by @serial-chillr, “Sule Tael Tasalal” by @faerieavalon and “Begin Again” by @cornfedcryptid and many more fics by many more wonderful writers like @johaeryslavellan, @kita-lavellan or @solas-disapproves. And I’m pretty sure, there are more that I simply forgot. But the DA fandom has so much to offer and I’m so glad I joined it.

Writing goals for 2020: Get two of of three novels published and crank out some more fanfiction in the meantime. I want to finish “The Rebel’s Ascension” very badly, but there is a ton of Solavellan stories I want to write, too. I may even write my first smut scene (I really want to). Apart from that, my main focus will be honing the craft. I know my English is not bad, but it can be improved to make the stories more impactful.

One more thing before I go

All the lovely and encouraging responses I’ve recieved from the DA fandom thus far really kept me motivated. I’m used to writing for myself with only a few people taking the time to look at my stories. Every kudo, every like and every comment is a god-damn gift for me––and I can’t thank you enough for it. Thank you all so very much! <3

[faerieavalon]

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Rating: Explicit Pairings: Solas/Elvhen OC, Felassan/Elvhen OC, Male Lavellan/Dorian, Others To Be Added

Ch 66 Sou’nin  

[Read it on AO3]

The doorway to the great receiving hall was wide open as they approached. Two Sentinels stood at shining attention on either side. Through the gilded doorway they could see how joyfully the others danced and mingled. Music and light beckoned to them, setting an exciting scene if ever one existed. 

It was all a lie. Era’las didn’t know if she should feel bad for the throng of followers or envy their ignorance. They had no idea what sort of nightmare they were living in or who they served. Just the night before, she had been one of them. Disillusioned, perhaps, but still wishing that her benefactor was a kind or caring goddess to serve. Now she knew better. Her whole world had changed in one single night and pretending to be ignorant now would be almost impossible. 

Her steps slowed and nearly faltered. Before she came to a complete halt Amelan- Abelas was at her side. One of his hands hovered behind her and he offered her the other to take. He seemed hesitant to touch her. After the night they had, she didn’t blame him for his nerves. No amount of reassuring words could soothe the wounded look in his eyes. It took a lot of courage for him to tell her, especially knowing that he would find no absolution. In the spirit of his courage, she could do the same. She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. They would get through this together.

“Is it too late to run?” She tried to smile, knowing it would look less confident than she might like. “Could be hours yet before she notices we are missing.” 

Abelas huffed a faint laugh, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “The cells will be lightly guarded at this time of night. We could stop along the way to the gates.”

The moment of levity was brought to a sharp halt when she felt a tug within her mind. It drew her attention up and across the hall. Mythal. Her eyes widened and Abelas’ smile fell. Any hope of a quick escape, as thin as it might have been, withered. It was time to be brave. Abelas nodded in silent agreement and shifted his touch to slip her hand through his arm. Heads high, they crossed the threshold and entered the party together.

“I will not leave your side.” His whisper hummed with conviction. “You will be safe.”

“We both will,” she corrected.

[Read the rest on AO3]

[mogwaei]

@faerieavalon OH MY POOR HEART I'M DEAAAADDD you nailed Maori's character omg.... I'm tearing up here! I am so in love with Ara'lan's kindness and wanting to teach Maori how to actually be...just be. She's never danced or enjoyed luxuries, she hasn't known kindness nor friends...and the lute is so bittersweet but she would absolutely sit with Ara'lan and teach her, to replace bad memories with happier ones. Gods and the liquor is such a Maori trap i can't even XD

FLOWER CROWNS AND SWEETROLLS MAORI JOIN HER ALREADY JFC

Thank you for writing this @faerieavalon. It's so beautiful(😭)and I can just feel the warmth and tinge of sadness in the setting. Gods I'm so weak for Ara'lan's gentle nature, coaxing my rough little mage out of hiding. *ugly sobbing in elven* ILY THANK YOU SO MUCH I'll stop rambling now hahaha❤❤

So I’ve always had this thought that Maodrid and Ara'lan could have almost met once. But since they didn’t have an AU idea where worlds cross just enough.

——————————–

The cross beams above her head creaked and she smiled. Her visitor made no other sound but she knew she was there. Ara’lan pulled the shutters closed over the windows and latched the door as she would any other night. Humming softly under her breath, she poured a second glass of thick, amber liquid and set it, and the bottle, across the table before taking her seat. The fire in the hearth kicked up slightly with a wave of her hand, bathing the room with a soft glow and warmth. 

“Could you imagine that you would ever look back and think that life was simple once?” She laughed softly and shook her head. “It was for me. I had that luxury. When Mythal tired of my presence I was permitted to live as I saw fit. I naturally attracted many of your compatriots, brothers and sisters in arms, but never you. So independent, so committed to your path, you did not find the need for rest or healing at my door. I wish you had.”

Ara’lan lifted her drink to her lips, sipping the potent liquor slowly. Her face twisted slightly, grimacing at the burn as it raced down her throat.

“I was never strong like you. Or nearly as brave. My purpose was to inspire. To give hope when it was presumed lost. So that is what I would offer you then. A place to rest. Remind you of the good things you fight to save.” She giggled. “Like flower crowns and sweet rolls.”

The beams creaked again, this time closer than before. Ara’lan sat and stared at the fire, sipping her drink until it stopped. 

“I would offer it still, if you ever have the need. We can drink and compare Wolves and men that never listen or tell stories no one else would believe. Or say nothing at all. I would teach you how to dance outside of combat. You might show me how to play the lute.”

Ara’lan shook her head and rose from the table. She left her empty glass on the table with the untouched one. One quick glance up let her see the shift of fabric just on the edge of shadows. Her guest remained silent.

“You have a great burden, lethal’lan. Running straight into the fire, dancing from the dark. Should you need a reminder of why you fight, I will be here.” She laughed softly. “An'eth'ara bellanaris, asa'ma'lin. What is mine is yours. Just remember to lock up before you leave.”

[faerieavalon]

 Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition  Rating: Explicit  Pairings: Solas/Elvhen OC, Felassan/Elvhen OC, Male Lavellan/Dorian, Others To Be Added

Ch 65: Nulam’siu    

[Read it on AO3]

He returned to himself slowly, feeling fingers tracing against his scalp and through his hair. In the gentle state between asleep and awake, it was soothing to his body and soul. His breathing deepened, sinking into the comfort. The contact stopped as soon as he moved. The illusion of peace fell away. Abelas remembered where he was. 

The blanket covering her bed was soft beneath his cheek and arm. It smelled faintly of summer air and fresh rain. His knees were stiff under him, folded in one position while he slept knelt at her side. He’d shed his armour as soon as possible after they had returned to her chambers, and the thin material of his leggings hadn’t offered much protection from the stone floor. Reluctantly, he shifted, letting his magic flow into his joints and muscles to alleviate any discomfort. Abelas opened his eyes and looked up to see bright green eyes watching him.

She was awake. Curled up in her blankets, hair a tangled mess behind her head, the early sun dancing across her cheeks. She still looked so tired, but she was awake. How many mornings had greeted him with such a sight? How long had he let that very face be the light that guided him through one more day? She was so beautiful and unguarded. Era’las smiled slowly as he studied her. It was thin and her eyes betrayed an underlying concern, but it was a real smile. It was too much for his heart to take. He slid back from the bed, and sat on his heels, needing the physical distance to collect himself. 

“Ir abelas,” he muttered. “I did not intend -”

“Stay.” She reached out to him with soft words and an open palm. “Please.”

Words failed him. Of course she thought he would abandon her. He already had. Twice, though she didn’t remember his first offense. Silence stretched between them long enough that she began to take her hand away. Abelas clasped her fingers in his hand and squeezed them gently, nodding his consent. Whatever she thought of him, he would not abandon her now. He had to make this right. Rising from the floor, he dropped his gaze, going through the motions of stretching out his legs while he steadied his breathing. Once his heart had calmed, he seated himself on the edge of the bed at her side. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“I am well,” Era’las replied, flinching at the scratchiness of her voice. “I think. How did we-?”

“I do not know-” He huffed a laugh, unable to suppress a small smile when they both spoke at once. Her smile softened, too. The silence between them eased and she took a breath to try again.

“How did I get here?” 

“I carried you.” 

“Why?”

The answer sat on the tip of his tongue. He should deflect. But he remembered the agony in her eyes, voice, and aura when he released her from her vow. Her eyes were clear now. Her voice, soft. Her aura, quiet. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

“What do you remember?” he asked softly.

[Read the rest on AO3]

[faerieavalon]

   Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition    Rating: Explicit    Pairings: Solas/Elvhen OC, Felassan/Elvhen OC, Male Lavellan/Dorian, Others To Be Added

Ch 64: Ghi'myem

[Read it on AO3]

Abelas  lifted the practice sword and stepped forward into guard position. His arms burned and sweat trickled down his back as he pivoted and swung for the abdomen of his imaginary opponent, turning the blade at the last second to catch the invisible defending strike. He danced his way through form after form, charging forward and retreating back, feints and parries against weapons only he could see, until the peripheral sounds of the training yard faded away. His jumbled thoughts, however, wouldn’t be defeated so easily.

Mythal had returned at last.

It had been hours since she arrived and upset the relative peace of the temple grounds. Hours he had spent in the training yard, venting his frustrations. She was likely surrounded by people eagerly throwing themselves at her feet but he could feel her breathing down his neck as surely as if she stood by his side. 

They were out of time and options. The spy was in a cell deep underground. Unreachable for rescue or counsel. Researching on his own was a dead end. The library held only tales of Mythal’s grandeur, not of her fall or the days that followed. He had pushed Era’las away. Though it had been on purpose, and honorable, it still ate at him to cause her pain. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her tear filled eyes as she fled from his words. He had backed himself into a corner and the most dangerous being of all was close enough to strike at them all.

Spiraling in a loop of his darkest thoughts and fears, he barely noticed when a body stepped into his path. Overcorrecting his swing, he stumbled on his toes and smashed the sword into the stone floor hard enough to crack the blade in half. The intruder wasn’t harmed but the sword was beyond repair. Abelas cursed under his breath and threw the hilt to the ground in frustration.

“Ir abelas, ha’hren!” His visitor scrambled back and bowed deeply. 

It was Haleir. He held his bent posture of repentance, looking every bit like he was expecting punishment to rain down on him. Abelas sighed, a dismissal on the tip of his tongue when he noticed something else of importance. The youth wasn’t wearing the light gear for practice forms or the heavier armour for field work. His armour shone as brilliant as the high noon sun and the new leather straps creaked slightly when he shifted. This was the full dress armour of a Sentinel. 

“De da’rahn,” Abelas mumbled and stepped back. He clenched his fists at his sides and steeled his nerves. “Do you require something of me, panelan?”

The youth lifted his eyes first, confusion wrinkling the branches etched on his brow. When no admonishment followed, he rose to his full height and saluted Abelas, his fist pressed tightly against the golden plate covering his chest. 

“She is asking to see you, ha’hren.” Pride flooded Haleir’s aura as he squared his shoulders and grinned. “First Mother bid me to find you and bring you to her.”

The game had begun.

[Read the rest on AO3]

[faerieavalon]

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Rating: Explicit Pairings: Solas/Elvhen OC, Felassan/Elvhen OC, Male Lavellan/Dorian, Others To Be Added

Ch 63: Danal’bar

[Read it on AO3]

Era’las sat on a stool provided by the guards and worried at her bottom lip with her teeth while Marassan ate his midday meal. Claiming protection of him had at least granted him a clean mattress and better rations. The warmth and life in his eyes had returned. It was a small victory in the face of a larger challenge.

Mythal had returned. 

The scouts in the far reaches had sent back news of sighting Mythal’s dragon that morning, and it had quickly become all anyone would talk about. She would arrive by nightfall and a flurry of activity had taken over the entire temple and surrounding grounds. Servants scrubbed every wall and floor until they shone. Priests filled the halls with the scent of smouldering incense. Soldiers polished their armour and exercised with renewed vigor. 

Everyone else was excited, but Era’las couldn’t join in the celebration. There were too many questions left unanswered. Sharing her dream space with Cole had calmed her panic and eased her guilt, but it wasn’t his nature to solve puzzles. 

“Da’asha, I can hear you worrying.” Marassan smiled. “While I may be a captive audience, I’m also a willing one. If you wish to talk about it, I will listen.”

Of course he would notice. She blushed at being caught and untangled her fingers from the edges of her sleeves to lay her hands in her lap.

“I would like that,” she admitted, sparing a glance down the hall towards the guard station. “But I would not wish to put you at risk for my comfort.”

“Your comfort matters more than you know.” The sincerity in his voice sent a warmth down her spine. “I don’t fear them. Whatever it is, let me help ease your mind. Please.”

It was enough to sway her to confide in him. With another glance down the hall, she shifted closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I remember kneeling before Mythal and taking my vows to her service. One generation for the gift of protection. I served faithfully and she was pleased. I remember her gifting me a home of my own, one I would keep when my service was done. Amelanen promised me he would request to leave service with me. That we would have a quiet life together. I remember he was summoned to attend First Mother. He agreed to discuss our plans with her.” 

She stopped and swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. Talking about him still hurt. It was too fresh. But with a deep breath, she tucked those feelings away for another time, and carried on. 

“I woke here. Mythal said she rescued me from danger. Amelanen alluded to a grand mistake he committed that would keep us apart forever. You spin tales of such wonder for moments we might have shared. I remember none of this. If I try to think of it, my skin burns and my mind aches. My truest friend and confidant Iveani suffers the same affliction.” Her cheeks coloured in shame as her gaze fell to her hands in her lap. “I made her speak. I used my magic to convince her she was safe, knowing it would hurt her to sate my curiosity.”

His hand came into view as he reached through the bars and laced their fingers together in her lap. Even if she couldn’t feel his aura, the touch was comforting. Marassan ran a thumb over the back of her hand gently, soothing her nerves. 

“What did you learn from her?” He encouraged her softly, not a hint of judgement in his voice. “Did you get your answers?”

“Some. I have lost no less than one hundred years. Likely more.” She sighed again, taking his hand between both of hers, and steadying herself with his warmth. “I spoke with Compassion again while I slept but I still have so many questions. The most important of which I am afraid to ask.”

“Da’asha, if it is in my power to answer it, I will.” Marassan laced his fingers between hers and held on tight. “No stories. No fantasy. The truth.”

The weight of his promise lifted her spirits. Era’las leaned closer, desperate to ask but growing more concerned of being overheard. 

“I promised First Mother one hundred years of service. One turn of an age at her command. If that time has passed, then why am I here?” Her voice cracked and a hint of fear leaked out to her aura against her will. “Ara assan, why am I not free?”

[Read the rest on AO3]

[faerieavalon]

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Rating: Explicit Pairings: Solas/Elvhen OC, Felassan/Elvhen OC, Male Lavellan/Dorian, Others To Be Added

Ch 62: Sethemal

[Read it on AO3] 

“Oh! I expected you would be in the courtyard already.” Iveani stood at the entrance to Era’las’ chambers, confusion and concern etched into her expression when she saw her laying in bed. “Did you not sleep well, my lady?”

Era’las smiled at her friend and shrugged, letting a trace of her exhaustion flow into her aura. “I did not sleep at all,” she admitted, picking at the sides of her nightdress with her fingers. “Would you please advise the priests that I will not be joining them today?”

“Of course. Are you troubled? Shall I make you some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Era’las shifted to lean against her pillows, glad that she’d arrived back at her chambers just before Iveani did. While she didn’t want to lie, she also couldn’t tell her friend where she’d been all night. It had been difficult to say goodbye to Massaran - there was certainly a connection with him she couldn’t deny, and the gaps in her memory were troubling. Before she left the cells, she had at least gotten the assurance from the new guards that he would be treated better going forward. Unlike the av'ahnelan, they respected her as a loyal servant of Mythal’s and would heed her request that Massaran be given a mattress and better meals.

Amelanen’s warning came back to mind, and with it the inference from him and Marassan about her lost time. The memories, the pain of trying to recall even the smallest detail, frightened her. There was a danger in looking for answers within her own mind. The thoughts connected and a new idea was born. Her own mind and the two sides of her heart weren’t the only resources available. 

“Iveani, when did you last visit Arlathan?”

The handmaid paused, kettle halfway in position to pour. “It is hard to say, my lady. Years, at least.”

“I barely remember its beauty.” Era’las sighed and twisted the edge of her blanket between her fingers.. “We should ask Mythal when she returns if we may be permitted to take some time there. I miss the singing winds and bustle of the marketplace. Our temple is beautiful, but there is more to life than contemplation.”  

“That might not be wise, my lady. First Mother has many things that require her attention.”

Era’las pulled up her knees and rested her chin against the soft blankets. They were cool and soothing against her skin, even as the light of day began to filter in through the windows. Perhaps her friend was right. Her whims weren’t that important, but neither were her duties. She could be spared for a few days at least without anyone else suffering. 

“You may be right, but I will never know if I do not ask.”

Iveani tapped her shoulder lightly to draw her back from wandering thoughts. “Your tea, my lady.”  

As she placed it on the table beside the bed, the delicate cup clattered slightly against its saucer. Era’las noticed that Iveani’s hands, always so steady no matter the task, were shaking. She gently clasped them in her own.

“Iveani, what troubles you? Are you well?”

[read the rest on AO3] 

[faerieavalon]

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Rating: Explicit Pairings: Solas/Elvhen OC, Felassan/Elvhen OC, Male Lavellan/Dorian, Others To Be Added

Ch 61: Silathe

[Read it on AO3] New readers [start here]

She ran and the world around her blurred. It didn’t matter where she went, only that she kept going, kept putting distance between herself and where her heart had broken. She ran down halls, turning blindly, her heart thudding in her chest, her eyes flooding with tears, and her lungs burning in her chest. The hour was late and no one was around to see her in such a state. She wouldn’t have cared if they had. When her feet felt the change from cold stone to warm earth, she stumbled and fell to her knees. In the soft grass of the courtyard, Era’las collapsed into her sorrow.

Why?

She had done everything right. When he’d arrived, she’d greeted him with open arms and heart. When he’d asked for space, she had given it. When he’d asked for time, she had given that, too. Even when she’d felt his eyes on her nearly everywhere she went, she’d held herself back because he wasn’t ready to talk to her or even be in the same room as her. She had been patient and kind and respectful.

What did I miss?

When he’d walked into her meeting, she’d thought that would be it - that they were finally going to talk and everything would be restored. He would take her into his arms, kiss her lips, and remind her that he had promised to be by her side, always. She would laugh, tease him for making her wait, and repeat her promise of the same. They would begin anew.

What did I do wrong?

Instead of lying in her bed, holding him in her arms, she was alone. The scent of crushed grass and damp earth filled her nose. She cried until her tears ran dry and her throat scratched with every breath. She laid there until the warmth of the ground beneath her began to cool and she shivered in the dark. None of it was enough to wash the ache from her soul.

“My lady?”

The soft voice forced her to look up. Iveani knelt in the grass by her side. Worry wrinkled the face of her friend and tainted her aura with a sour note. Apparently, she had been gone long enough to draw attention. 

“My lady, are you well?”

Era’las shook her head. No words could explain how she felt. Her throat closed around a sob, and even if she could have spoken, what would she have said? Iveani had no more insight than she did. Era’las’ aura pulsed - jagged and raw as if it had been torn in two.

Iveani sighed softly in understanding. With a murmur to summon her magic to her hands, she ran a soothing touch down Era’las’ back. Healing magic penetrated deep, easing the ache in her muscles, the tightness in her chest, and the burn in her throat. The headache that always came from crying too hard dimmed. Exhaustion pulled the strength out of her. It didn’t change the sorrow in her heart but it took the edge off her pain enough to allow her to speak.

“Ma serannas,” she whispered. 

“It is late, my lady. You need rest.”

[read the rest on AO3] [start from the beginning]

[faerieavalon]

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Rating: Explicit Pairings: Solas/Elvhen OC, Felassan/Elvhen OC, Male Lavellan/Dorian, Others To Be Added

Ch 60: Mi’nas’sal’inan

[Read it on AO3] New readers [start here]

Sitting still made Mahanon itch. Luckily, they had brought a handful of Inquisition scouts and their ravens with them which made notifying Skyhold of their delay possible. It also made it convenient for Josephine and Leliana to pass a few concerns back. He could address minor requests while on the road and save them from making excuses in his absence. It wasn’t the most secure way of passing information but the scouts could encrypt anything, so he trusted their judgement. It wasn’t his favorite way to spend time, but it kept him from earning a scolding from Solas. 

Though, after a few days following strict bed rest orders, Solas had relented and allowed him to leave the confines of his tent. It had been good for general morale and his own. Mahanon smiled as he signed yet another missive, remembering the cheers and waves he had received that first day he wandered about camp - a much more welcome reception than devotional singing. 

Late one afternoon, as he finished signing the last of a series of supply orders, a familiar but uncommon sound caught his attention. It was markedly different from horses, but he would know the call of the halla anywhere. He slipped out of his tent - thankful that it was on the edge of camp - and went to investigate.

Moving carefully through the trees, he saw them before they saw him. One lone aravel led by a team of halla slowly made its way down the heavily traveled road. The bright colors he expected to see were faded and worn. Her sails were mended more than they were whole and a few unrepaired tears were large enough to leave the sails hanging limp against their masts. The two elves riding outside the aravel fared no better. The driver was twice Mahanon’s age at least, with dark hair flecked with grey and age lines that interrupted Dirthamen’s pattern on his brow and cheeks. He hunched forward on the bench, nodding either in response to his companion’s words or drifting off to sleep. His young companion was probably family as they had the same nose, hair, and vallaslin. A bow lay across his lap and no doubt his quiver was tucked in the footrest with arrows ready.

Something had happened to them. Mahanon was certain that it wasn’t good. Where was the rest of the clan? There was no reason for a single aravel to be on these roads. Whatever their hardship, the pair looked exhausted. If they needed supplies or a guide, he had plenty to spare. These were his people. He could help. Mind made up, he stepped from the shelter of the trees slowly, plastered on a hopefully calm grin, and raised a hand in greeting.

“An'eth'ara, travelers!”

Faster than he could blink, the youth rose from his seat, nocked an arrow and had it ready to fire on him. The elder by his side brought the aravel to a halt and narrowed his eyes. Tension crawled its way up Mahanon’s spine. In hindsight, this was probably one of his less spectacular ideas.

[read the rest on AO3] [start from the beginning]

[faerieavalon]

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Rating: Explicit Pairings: Solas/Elvhen OC, Felassan/Elvhen OC, Male Lavellan/Dorian, Others To Be Added

Ch 59: Ahnsul

[Read it on AO3] New readers [start here]

Too slow. Tooslowtooslowtooslow.

The thought flashed in his head the second the talons of the terror demon sunk into his torso and a scream flew from his lips. He should have been watching. He should have had his barrier up. He should have heard its cry before it rose from the ground. He should have done a thousand different things but he hadn’t. 

“Amatus!”

Dorian’s voice felt too far away. Mahanon heard his shout as if it passed through water, murky and just out of reach. He shook his head to clear the fog trying to wash his thoughts away. The rift had caught them by surprise and scattered their practiced formation. While the others had managed to recover, he had the misfortune of being thrown down an embankment when a terror demon erupted from the ground beneath his feet. Tangled in battles of their own, they wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. He was on his own. The demon let out a piercing cry of victory. 

“Snowflake! Hold on!”

Varric’s worry reached where his bolts couldn’t. Time seemed to stretch between the beats of Mahanon’s  heart even as he knew it was running thin. So many choices he made along the way took him to this exact moment. So many things could have gone differently. He could have been weak or afraid when his magic manifested. Then his time would have been cut short before he knew what he would miss. He could have married Elera. Her clan would have made him Keeper by now and their children would be loved, even if they were barely more than friends. He could have buried his feelings for Dorian. Being alone was a better fate than knowing real, tangible, mutual love, and then watching its life slip through the talons of a demon to paint the grass red. He could have continued on the main road to Skyhold instead of taking the faster, less traveled paths. They would have been delayed by a few days but he would have had more soldiers on hand when the rift appeared or they might have avoided it completely. Doubts flooded his mind and his arms fell lax at his sides. Giving in would end the pain.

“Boss!”

Bull was a distraction. The creature lifted him higher, shooting pain through every inch of his body and drawing him out of his clouded thoughts. Mahanon screamed as he fought the convulsions of panic that begged him to flail away. He blinked furiously, trying to hold onto consciousness. They needed him. He couldn’t just give up like this. 

“Inquisitor!”

[read the rest on AO3] [start from the beginning]

[faerieavalon]

“I see you, Fen’Harel. I see you and I am not afraid.”

Ara’lan and Solas from Sule Tael Tasalal, as captured by @schoute. I’m speechless. This is gorgeous and so true to them.