#there is so much being said with Solas’ eyes and posture in this scene that of course never made it into the final draft

[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

I lied. I betrayed you.

Ir abelas, Vhenan.

I will go. And seek atonement.

[reliving-elegy]

Verdant Horizon

We enter the scene to see Hallona and the Lord of Traitors marching alongside each other. Little time has passed relative to their last discussion. Relative to exhaustion, however....

"....Lord of Traitors, please state an estimate of travel relative to our current position."

"Sola Mor Nine Eight Five Two Eight Five Six-"

"Estimate to six places."

"Sola Mor Nine Eight Five dash Two Seven Seven, proceeding southwest at an even cadence of 7 kilometers per hour; crosswind slowing progress, humidity of ground-"

"Ignore environmental factors."

"Sola Mor Nine Eight Five dash Two Seven Seven, proceeding southwest at an even cadence of 7 kilometers per hour; noting temperance and status of attached personnel to be below average-"

"Excuse you?"

"-to be suitable for travel. Remaining distance approximated to 5.483 kilometers. Estimating arrival at entry point by Time-1947."

The Cardinal Hallona glances up to the night sky, the sun having fallen what felt like hours ago.

"...Re-state with regards time estimated for travel."

".......I say again; distance 5.483 kilometers, Time- One, Nine, Four, Seven."

Hallona's gaze falls back to the ground, looking at the vast, yet-untread path left to march.

With a quiet tsk, the bags under her eyes becoming heavier by the mere sight. There is a brief silence as she considers the situation. With a hesitant flutter in her voice, Hallona addresses the Lord of Traitors once more.

"......Cite using standard terminology?-"

"We are not there yet, Cardinal."

"I know that, but-"

"You do not understand?"

"Well, you said it so quickly."

"....I did not change my rate of speech."

"It seemed quick."

"Have you considered that embarking on an 18-hour march without having rest and exercised for several days may have had an ill effect on your cognitive ability."

"Wh-What? Preposterous. "So long as I am with purpose, I am without weakness."

"Page 246, Verse 5."

Hallona chuckles to herself, straightening her posture victoriously.

"....The context of that passage references the indomitable strength of many, Cardinal."

"Well, I am many things!"

"You are one person."

Hallona darts her eyes at Lord of Traitors, whose vision remains affixed on the path ahead.

"Do you doubt my ability, Lord of Traitors?"

"I do not doubt it. However, I am capable of understanding you."

"As a Cardinal of the Sarenites."

"As a woman."

There is a great and deafening silence. Lord of Traitors' head slowly turns to face Hallona, whose eyes betray a quiet, seething rage.

"-As a well-trained, highly educated, physically fit woman who is only capable of so much."

"Now you're most certainly speaking quicker than usual."

"I am not, but I am averse to conflict where it is unnecessary."

"Are you sure? Perhaps conflict would help us resolve this difference."

"No."

"Certain?"

"Yes."

"Good-"

"You are not without limit, Cardinal."

Hallona's half-heated anger fades with his final point. She lets out a defeated, groaning sigh.

"...I realize. But we must press on."

"But not today."

"Yes, today."

"....I do not wish to see you harmed-"

"-Thank you-"

"-In a way we have discussed prior to engagement. You cannot be expected perform if you are to enter combat fatigued."

"Then it's very fortunate we don't intend to engage the target."

"You are ignoring the expectation-"

"I have ignored NO detail."

The pair are quiet. Hallona's frustrated breaths and the sound of muddied boots against the ground are all that fill the air.

A moment passes. The Lord of Traitors flexes his fingers at his sides. Hallona looks off and away from the road, trying to find another distraction to hold her focus.

"......Purposefully underestimating the likelihood of a negative response is unwise.... Cardinal."

There is no response.

"...You have the right to retain hope."

"...Not at the cost of your well being."

Hallona's face betrays her fear of the situation, though her expression goes unseen by the Lord of Traitors.

"Let us refrain from idle discussion for the time."

"...Alright."

The two continue their march quietly for around thirty seconds.

"..........Forty-three minutes."

"Hm?"

"Forty-three minutes, Cardinal."

"....Oh, you mean... remaining. Right. Yes that's... reasonable."

"It is."

"....I guess I could have... done the math."

"You did not."

"I was expecting you to tell me."

"I did."

"Yes, but... earlier."

"You asked the wrong question to receive that answer."

"I did no such thing."

" "How much longer?" "

"....How much longer....?"

"The question you should have asked. "How much longer?" "

"....You didn't seem the type to appreciate non-specific questions."

"....I am not incapable of reading intent. I... have difficulties. It would be beneficial if you were to ask what you mean to ask."

"....I.... apologize."

"There is no need."

"...But-"

"There is no need."

The two look back to the path ahead. In the distance, the peaks of a vast wood rise into view. The two look toward the night's horizon with quiet confidence.

"....Forty-One minutes."

"Forty minutes, twelve seconds, Cardinal."

[katkulita]

A Day in the Life of Inquisitor Florence

(It's early morning. The sun is rising, first rays of sunlight make their way through the high valleys between mountain peaks of the range opposite, hitting only the tallest towers of the fortress yet. The air is delightfully clean and chilly.

FLORENCE ADAAR is walking down the stairs from Skyhold's Great Hall, dressed in leather trousers and a simple linen shirt, her hair tied in a three-strand knot between her horns. She's carrying her sword, a big two-hander.

Florence is watching two soldiers in a ring at the bottom of the stairs, sparring with wooden training swords. One of them is Commander Cullen. Florence approaches the ring and puts her sword aside; then chooses the biggest and heaviest of the practice swords that are stacked in a wooden box near the entrance to the ring. She looks at it with disapproval, swings it with her right hand without much effort and frowns.

Meanwhile, Commander Cullen has finished sparring with his partner, Warden Blackwall. They shake hands, exchange a friendly remark or two, Blackwall picks up the padded coat he had left on the fence and leaves. Cullen wipes the sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his shirt, unties another string that's supposed to hold his shirt closed in front, then gestures to Florence.

Florence enters the ring for her morning sword practice. Cullen charges at her, she blocks his attack - I have no idea what moves they do or what to call them, just imagine them waving wooden swords at each other - they spar for quite a while. But Cullen is showing signs of fatigue, he has been in the ring with others since daybreak, so Florence thanks him for his time, he grabs his feathered boa coat and sets on his way.

Some audience has gathered around the ring as people go to the tavern for breakfast or from it and stop to assess their leaders' skill in combat. Two persons stand out in the crowd; one of them is a huge Qunari, the Iron Bull, who would honestly stand out in any crowd unless it was a herd of druffalos; the other one stands out only because Bull is currently whispering to him. It's Krem, Bull's best boy.

Florence, having lost her sparring partner, looks around the ring. She's searching for Cassandra who she caught a glimpse of just a few moments ago, but there's no sign of the Seeker; she must have gone to the tavern, too. As Florence turns around, Krem has entered the sparring ring and waves at her with his practice sword. Florence waves back, they both assume combat posture and start sparring.)

Crowd: (cheering)

(They practice for a while, but Florence seems to be uncomfortable with her left hand.)

Florence: (stumbles and swings her two-handed training sword with only her right hand; she shakes cramps from her left hand and resumes posture)

Krem: (with concern) You all right, Inquisitor?

The Iron Bull: (mockingly from the crowd) Go easy on her, Krem! She's all worn out!

Krem: Had a busy night, eh?

Crowd: (laughs)

The Iron Bull: Oh yeah! (Crowd cheers with him) Give her some slack. (moves towards the entrance to sparring ring)

Florence: (gasps in mock upset, then challenges them) Ooh, I can take on both of you, boys, no problem.

Crowd: (cheers)

Krem: Ugh... I'm afraid I'm not interested?

Crowd: (oohs and laughs)

Florence: (snorts with repressed laughter) In combat! Ooh, you're a dead Krem now!

(Meanwhile, Bull has picked up one of the practice swords, entered the ring and assumed position next to Krem. Crowd gets agitated - this is going to be fun!)

Florence: Alright, come at me!

(Krem charges at her, she dodges the blow and dives before Bull's attack. Look, I don't know the right words to describe the action, I find action scenes infinitely boring and describing every single move takes forever. Let's just imagine they spar, Florence manages to avoid being overwhelmed for some time, but eventually gets cornered.

In an attempt to escape from a tight spot, she climbs on the fence surrounding the ring with one swift but graceful motion.)

Crowd: (cheers and claps)

Florence: (balancing on the fence, grins) Who has the high ground now?

(Cassandra emerges from the crowd.)

Cassandra: (sternly) That would hardly be possible with a heavy sword, though, wouldn't it, Inquisitor?

(Crowd starts to dissolve immediately. The show is over.)

Florence: (jumps down from the fence towards Cassandra) Well, yes, but... Look, it's not my fault that the practice swords are all too light. I'm making do with what I have.

Cassandra: (frowns at Florence) But you don't have to make a show out of it. If you want to practice some more-

Florence: (drops her training sword back into the box) Nah, I'm good. I've had enough exercise for today.

Krem: (still in the sparring ring, to Bull) Hear that, chief? No hanky panky for you tonight.

The Iron Bull: (smirks) Wanna bet?

Cassandra: (makes a disgusted noise and leaves)

(An inconspicuous bald elf in tights and something resembling a night-shirt appears. He wasn't in the crowd, so he must have come from... somewhere else? It's Solas, the local elven apostate, Fade expert and hobo.)

Solas: Inquisitor, may I have a word with you?

Florence: Sure.

(She walks with Solas a few steps away from Bull and Krem.)

Solas: Your hand is glowing. Did you use the Anchor in training?

Florence: (looks at her left hand which emits faint green light) Uh. No, I don't use the Mark in practice. In fact, I don't think I'd be able to, well, use it on purpose.

Solas: But you do use it to close the rifts and in combat.

Florence: Yeah, but that's different. The rifts kind of pull at it, so they... close themselves, you could say. And in combat... I don't know, it's like I feel it charge up and then I use it, if you can imagine what I'm saying.

Solas: (nods)

Florence: In training, it's never happened so far. No idea why.

Solas: Mhm. Your focus in real combat must help channel more power into the Mark, perhaps. Unfortunate that you can't do the same in practice.

(Solas looks at Florence's hand with thinly-veiled envy and disapproval. Florence notices his look and frowns.

Solas turns to leave.)

Florence: (quietly, to Solas) You know, I'd give it to you if I could.

(Krem snorts from the sparring ring; he must have been listening to them. Solas turns back to Florence, stone-faced.)

Solas: I... beg your pardon?

Florence: I said, I'd gladly pass the Mark to you if I knew how. So it would be killing you and not me.

Solas: Yes. Well, what's done is done, I'm afraid.

(Florence nods at him and he leaves.

Bull approaches her quietly.)

The Iron Bull: (whispers) He'd snap like a twig. *

Florence: (chuckles) Yeah... You know what? No, I don't think he would, actually.

(Bull glances at her with curiosity, then turns his gaze back to Solas, who's leaving.)

The Iron Bull: Gah, I guess you're right, kadan. There's more to him than meets the eye.

Florence: (crosses her arms mockingly) Oh, so we're back to "kadan" now, are we?

The Iron Bull: (with low, deep voice) I'll get back to you, kadan, tonight, in your quarters.

Florence: (giggles)

Krem: (from behind them, with disgust) Ugh, do you have to, in public?

Florence: (turns to face Krem, arms still folded) Look, your Daddy and I have an intimate relationship, you'll have to get used to it. Now go play with the other kids! (waves her hand to dismiss Krem)

(Krem grins, salutes mockingly and leaves.)

Florence: (picks up her two-handed real sword; to Bull) Say... How about after lunch?

* (Camera cuts to Solas' face as he walks away from the Inquisitor and her beau. He heard them. His face hardens and his eyes light up in distressing blue for a few heartbeats.)

[faeriewild]

Have a Henri and Cathrin drabble. I write a lot of scenes down like this that are snippets from their stories. They’re not really linear and more of small moments to get my ideas down in some way but ah well, here it is.

takes place right before the events of trespasser.

---

Her brother’s quarters were not to her taste. The Orlesian decor felt out of place in such an old hold. Not to mention the copious amount of Andrastian relics, symbols and incessant imagery. Out of all the depictions of the Chant of Light, her least favorite was the Maker appearing before the soon to be prophet. It had taken her years to dissect what it was about that image that bothered her. The supplicant woman before the faceless god, the god who said words of devotion; only to watch Andraste die.

Perhaps her own feelings have twisted the stained glass images into something sinister. The years had tempered her bitterness, and she became more understanding of the faith’s place in the world. However, there were still some images that caused unease. If only she found comfort in the colored glass as she once did, as her brother does.

Though she did not approve of her brothers choice of imagery, she remained all the same. Currently, she lay on a bedroll in front of the fire watching the ceiling for the glow of the anchor as it flared again. The unease of her forsaken gods surrounding her only aided in the nightmarish haze that had overtaken her mind, and Cathrin was tired to hearing her brother’s screams.

Sleep had become a luxury no longer available to her. They were set to depart to Val Royeaux in two days. Two days left and no solution has been found.

It would be easier if Henri allowed her to confide in their friends. After the anchor flared in earnest for the first time, Cathrin was the only witness. “You’re good at secrets,” Henri said through clenched teeth, “Tell no one. I’m only asking you to be silent until after the counsel.” When he smiled she observed the crows feet forming at the corners of his eyes. Just like father.

“At least tell Cassandra. She’ll kill you if you don’t.” The words seemed to come from desperation, more than a tactical push to persuade her brother to share the burden. Her persuasive maneuvers were always stilted when it came to Henri. Care always outweighed practicality.

Henri paused for a moment, a wince turning into a grin. “I’d rather die by my lady’s hand than the anchor.”

With a scoff, Cathrin continued to pace. “If no solution is found you won’t have that choice, Henri.”

The Inquisitor shrugged, “I believe we will find a way to over come this. Madame Vivienne will be at the council, and I trust she has the magical contacts I need.”

The thought of Vivienne’s aid did provide some hope. The unspoken wish for Solas’ aid came to her mind again. Henri’s anchor was tied to the fade, to the sealed rift, it was a pity now that her friend was now not on hand to address this matter. She hated him most when her brother would buckle over in pain.

Perhaps Henri’s anchor was a curiosity to Solas, and after the rift was healed, he saw no reason to aid the Inquisition further. It was likely he knew what would happen to her brother, and left before blame could be spread.

With no immediate solution in sight, she became her brother’s only confidante. For the past week she lay on the ground in her brother’s quarters, staring at Henri’s glass prophet and watched as the green light from the anchor danced along the ceiling. At times he would awaken in extraordinary pain. Cathrin would be on hand to administer herbal remedies. It never subsided the pain fully, but just enough to help him sleep. 

Suspicions of his situation were luckily kept to a minimum. The only one to notice Cathrin’s absence in the evening was Cullen. Gratefully, he never pushed the subject.

Cathrin’s thoughts were interrupted when the door to Henri’s quarters slammed open. Bolting up, Cathrin didn’t have time to grab her dagger before Cassandra rushed in. The Seeker’s eyes scanned the room, briefly taking in her brother’s form before her heavy gaze fell on her. 

“You.” Though her words were whispered, they held as much venom as if she shouted them.

Resigned to her fate, Cathrin slowly stood and raised her hands in supplication. The relationship between Cassandra and herself had grown less antagonistic over time. This was accomplished due to her brother, who all but forced them to work together. Still, Cathrin did not think Cassandra would ever accept her fully. The tense respect they now held was delicate, and seething the look Cassandra gave her now - Cathrin knew her opinion of her just plummeted. 

Cassandra grimaced, “You should have told me!” Her voice increased in volume enough for Henri to stir. The motion was enough to divert Cassandra’s attention. Her face fell into one of concern. 

Cathrin took the moment in stride, seeing an opening to prod for information. “How did you find out?” But Cassandra didn’t hear her words and instead made her way to Henri’s side. 

Taking the hint, Cathrin left her brother’s quarters and came face to face with Cole outside of the door. The wide-eyed look he gave her was enough for her to deduce why her friend arrived so shortly after Cassandra.

“Traitor.” Cathrin mumbled, before placing a hand on Cole’s shoulder and guiding him away. She was not angry with him for telling the truth. Cole never quite grasped the concept of white lies. 

“She was very worried.” Cole said, his gaze watching his feet as they descended the stairs of the Inquisitor’s tower. 

Cathrin sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I know. So am I.” They walked in a comfortable silence until they reached the main hall. Cathrin paused there, unsure if she should return to her own quarters or risk having to explain herself to Cullen.

“You’re not angry.” Cole stated, his relief apparent. Though there was still tension held in his posture. His gaze traveled from her to the rotunda doors, his expression expectant. 

Looking to her friend, Cathrin raised a brow in question. “Cole?”

The rotunda doors opened and one very tired commander entered the empty hall. “Cole!” Cathrin rounded on her friend, ready to lecture him - but the boy was gone.

Once again resigned, Cathrin approached Cullen. She worried at her lip as she tried to think of the best explanation. Though the secret was not her idea; she came to realize the difficulties of explaining her brother’s condition. She could hardly speak of it without dread overtaking her. 

“Cullen I--” Cathrin began before being cut short by a raised hand.

Cullen shook his head, and looked at her with a softness she still was not accustomed to. “Later... for now, just come to bed.”

---

[jessicadcrazy]

In another World, she stops him.

There were many stories he enjoyed while staying with the dalish. Before they turned him a way. His favourite was by far the Guardian of Hope. Where it had come from, he was not sure, but the idea that the guardian was a wolf made the jabs at him hurt a little less. Of course, the story went that light and dark (Hope and him) were in constant battle. A balance for peace and war, happiness and misery, it was a perfect story that could lead to something more.

He had enjoyed hearing the hunters talk about seeing a wolf between the trees, with white fur and green eyes. Of course, he had forgotten this while joining the inquisition. With the world putting their faith in a man who had his mark on his hand. It was here, in the hinterlands (while waiting for word from Skyhold) that he saw it. He wasn't the only one. The man who had become leader to the inquisition was stood nearby when they both saw the wolf walk almost soundlessly across the glade.

Solas was taken aback by how beautiful a animal could be. How the world seemed content around it, the smaller animals not afraid of it and it's completely calm nature. He was surprised to see the wolf had six eyes (much like his alter ego) and green markings all over it's fur.

“Is that a demon?” Evan asked quietly, not to spook it into attacking. He seemed genuinely interested in the creature before them both. “I am not sure, it is unlike anything I have ever seen.” Solas replied, watching it sniff the ground before looking up at the breach. Was it a byproduct of his orb? Or more then that? Were the dalish stories true?

“It seems...peaceful.” the inquisitor mused and stood slowly, walking towards the clearing. The wolf stopped and looked at them both. It's eyes shining like the mark, magic flickered across the air. Solas watched as the human knelt and let the wolf come closer to him. Jealously and some unknown feeling expanded in his chest as the wolf licked the mark on his hand. The wolf looked right at him, it seemed to know him after all. Walking passed Evan it went to Solas. Sitting in front of the elf and remained eye level. “It seems to know you.” Evan was now back within earshot. “At least, it feels like it does.” he added and sat back down beside them. Solas was still looking at the wolf oddly, why was this? “There are stories of a white wolf being an ally to all elves, but I never gave it much credit.” he added and shook his head.

It was later that night that things became stranger. Solas was once again alone by the fire, except for the wolf that lay it's head on his lap. Everyone found it amusing that this wild animal preferred Solas over everyone. Varric had made a joke that Solas was the real leader of the inquisition as all heros had a animal companion. And they had all laughed at it, yet Solas felt that it meant something more.

“So what are you?” Solas finally asked the wolf, looking at the familiar markings and tried to remember where they were from. The wolf looked up at him and licked his cheek before laying it's head back down. “You are not going to tell me are you.” he huffed and leaned back, looking at the night sky.

“You would not believe it, even if I did.” came such a soft, feminine voice that it caught him by surprise. Solas looked down at the wolf and frowned more. “In another world.” the wolf looked up at him. Green eyes meeting with his. He felt his heart twist for some reason and it confused him to no end. “Shall I show you?” she asked and stood finally. Putting their foreheads together.

In a blinding green light, Solas was taken from the real world and into the fade. At least, he hoped it was the fade. The white wolf was gone, replaced by a female elf who wore a long white dress. White wolf fur wrapped around her arms and waist. Her eyes still that glowing green that matched the mark so effortlessly and he was surprised to see she also bore his mark. She did not say anything as she pointed ahead. Solas looked and frowned more.

Before them both was Haven, he had brought the inquisitor here before...Solas frowned as he saw himself talking to a woman instead. She was smaller then him, wearing armour and smiling at him. “why have you brought me here?” He asked and watched the scene unfold, knowing what was going to happen. The person would figure out it was the fade and they would wake up. He glanced back at the wolf girl who merely smiled. And nodded towards the two, Solas looked back just in time for the woman to kiss him. Solas blinked in surprise as he watched himself get swept up in the moment and pull her back to kiss her again. “What?” he asked himself. The scene faded to another one.

This time they were watching a balcony, the same woman was smiling shyly. He watched with worry and wonder at what was happening. “...it means, I have not forgotten our kiss.” that was him, for sure, but who was she? And why did she seem so familiar? Solas froze when he heard that word escape his copy's lips. Vehnan.

“What is this?” Solas asked the woman, who remained silent as the scene faded to show another and another and another. He was so invested in this woman and yet, the outcome was still the same. He left her broken. “I do not see the point in this....” he huffed. And then he heard it. Heard him.

“In another world we can be together.” Solas looked at the wolf girl and finally saw it. The features were similar and yet different. Her hair was the same, but her eyes were not. Her posture was stiff and she seemed withdrawn and cold. He looked back to the scene and then to her.

“She is you.” Solas finally pieced together, the wolf girl smiled sadly and nodded. She turned away and led him back through this place. It was a mix of a real world and the fade, just like before except there were gaps where it looked like broken glass.

“She was me. Before you tore the sky apart in your effort to save the people. In the effort to stop you, I put myself in your path. You begged me to step away, to give the people a chance at their legacy. I refused, for the thousands that would die if I did. We fought.” she explained softly and looked at him now and again. “You did not give up, the spell you created however, backfired. It shattered more then just the veil but all those connected to it. Mages lost their minds, templars became unstable and I...” she looked down and shook her head. “It tore me to pieces, like shards of a broken mirror. You watched in horror and I am not sure what happened in the moments after. But when I woke here I was alone. I could see all the worlds, all the differences and similarities.” she was saddened by it all. He had destroyed her and in his loss, destroyed himself.

“So what did you do?” Solas asked, looking at the broken areas again with a new light. If he believed this story at all, it meant that there were more then one world. “I looked for a world that was different, odd to it's brothers and sisters. All worlds had the same outcomes and none were different in their ending. Except the one I found you in.” she added and stopped by what he could see as the camp they were once sat in. “Your world's future is unsure, in flux, and I am not sure why. So I went to see why and I found nothing...so I have been visiting all the places I can remember, all the people I miss and that is when you found me. When I saw you...I don't know, I believed that maybe things could be different. Like you said. But idle hope is dangerous and I cannot allow myself to dream again. For if I do...”

“You might see what happened to the me you loved.” Solas felt sadness and jealously at the other versions of himself that had known light and love and still chose darkness. He felt a warm hand on his arm, then his cheek. Looking up to the green eyes once again.

“I love you, Solas, in all the worlds and all the versions. You and I, we are a constant.” she smiled and kissed his head softly. He felt wet droplets fall on his cheek and realised she was crying. For the moment, he could choose her. Unlike all the others that destroyed her. “I am not sure, but my heart seems to know you.” Solas said slowly and looked at her, wiping her tears. “Let us return to our world and maybe, we can make things different.” he added and took ahold of her hand. Back in reality, he found she could shapeshift. She remained the wolf while others were around but with confidence they began their new journey. He was adamant to make this work. She would cry no more.