#what if one of the wolf statues across thedas is her?

[skiitter]

Ellana looked for Solas everywhere, in every shadow and alleyway of Thedas, at every ephemeral border of her dreams. She hunted him through time, through the annals of her own ancestral history, down through the last long decade of her too short life. She searched for even the echo of his presence in places too old and too broken to be named. And in every corner, through every door, across every dusty room, she found nothing. He was a ghost of a memory, something she stole and kept pressed to the edge of her ribs, just painful enough to remind her it happened.

As the years and the emptiness of her life shuffled on, Ellana's loneliness blossomed outward, consuming the gentler parts of her, until all that was left was bitter and ugly, the refuse of all her wasted hope. And so, for the sake of what life she had life, she set aside that aching desire, and refocused her grim determination on solving problems that he created. If Solas would not have her now, just as he did not keep her then, then so be it. He broke her heart, but she would not let him break the world.

She never expected to see him again, not in this life anyway, and most certainly not in the face of a stranger, in a tavern far, far away.

"This," Morrigan said, "is Rook."

Afterwards, her hand shook for want of something to cling too. The wolf statue she'd given to Thedas's newest champion was all she'd brought on her journey, and so it was to her own miserable shock she was forced to clutch.

"So, what did you think of her?" Morrigan asked upon their return to the south.

'I hate her' was the very first thought in her head, but Ellana pushed it aside for something appropriate, something fair. "She's so young."

Morrigan nodded. "Tis true, she is. But so was the Warden Amell, so was Varric's beloved Hawke," she paused. "So were you."

Ellana felt every second of her 36 years hit her all at once and she failed to keep the grimace from her face. "She's not Dalish, despite her name. I was expecting her to be more..." She could hear the word 'elfy' in Sera's voice as clear as day. "It must drive him mad."

"Oh, I'm sure many things about her do. She's quite obstinate, I'm told." Dorian stepped through the Eluvian after them, brushing imaginary fade-dust from his tailored robes. "Harding says she reminds her of you, all spitfire and stubborness."

It wounded like nothing had in a decade. It was a feeling so far removed from her repertoire of emotions, she didn't dare name it until safely alone in a room, far from prying eyes and clever sight.

Jealousy.

It's so base, so sincere in its immaturity, Ellana smiled despite the revelation. Jealousy, now, at the end of the world. How small it felt before the onslaught of things sure to come, how useless. But it was felt all the same. What a ruin the last decade had made of her pride, the irony of which she was unable to ignore. It would be better, she knew, if she did not love him. It would be easier, she knew, if she hated him. And yet.

And yet.

"El, darling, I've brought you some very expensive and fancy wine that you will pretend to enjoy and I--" Dorian trailed off at the sight of her hunched over in bed, sobbing quietly into her hands. "Oh, Ellana." He did not ask, no one ever did anymore. Instead, he sat down and drew her to him.

"It's not fair," she said into the crook of his neck. "It's not bloody fair."

"Love never is."

"It should be me, sifting through his fractured thoughts, demanding answers and receiving none. A decade of my life, Dorian. A decade. And it's just some--some girl instead." Ellana scoffed in disgust at her own fallible heart. "Her people, they live in his--his home--they--they are sat among his things. They--" She scrubbed at her face, pulling away. "I am so sick of missing him, of wanting answers to a question I asked years ago."

"I know."

"Does this make me foolish? All these years, and I'm still so heartbroken. I'm responsible for the safety of a thousand people and one man, one stupid and prideful man, has weakened me so utterly I cannot help but hate what I've become." Ellana looked at him. "I hate that I hate her. I hate that she was able to succeed where I failed."

"She's only where she's at because of Varric--"

"I spent years thinking of ways to make him stop, for just moment, to just listen to me. And now, she's got him trapped. Trapped and unable to run and I cannot even demand an audience after all this--this searching. He's just as unreachable to me now as he's ever been."

Dorian was at a loss for words, as nearly everyone was when presented with the ugly wound of her heartache. She did not begrudge him such things, nor did she push away his attempts to comfort. Instead, she cried for a while more, just for the posterity of feeling.

"Sorry," she scrubbed at her face after some time. "It's been a long day."

"It's been a long decade," he said gently. "Would you like some company or is this a 'wallow in your own loneliness' sort of evening?"

In response, she grabbed the bottle from him and took a heavy swig. It was impressively dry, like all Tevinter wine. With a grimace, she handed it back. "Company, definitely."

Several cups and not enough food later, the two of them sat before the small fireplace, having lapsed into companionable silence. He had just finished telling her of his recent run in with Vivienne and at the mention of their old friend, her thoughts were inevitably cast back in time to the Dread Wolf.

"I can see him in her," she said softly. "I see Solas in her expression, in the way she carries herself. It's...it's agonizing."

Dorian reached out and took her hand.

"She's so young and the weight of the entire world is on her shoulders. I know that feeling, I know how hard it is going to get," Ellana sighed. "I cannot begrudge her for things wholly out of her control."

"It is okay to hate her, even if it is only a little bit," he replied. "I won't tell."

"I know." She gave him a sad smile. "Maybe at the end of this, on the other side of all this carnage, I can ask her to tell him that I..." There was no word to properly encapsulate the sumtotal of everything she felt for Solas. "That I miss him, even now. And that if he ever wanted to talk, I will always be here to listen."

"He doesn't deserve your heart, Ellana, he never has."

"I know, but it's his anyway."

[dragonagecompanions]

How do you think the Dragon Age Inquisition advisors and companions would react to Child Inquisitor being the child of the Champion of Kirkwall? Also could you make Fenris the child Inquisitor's father?

Cassandra: This is...problematic.

Varric had told her enough of the Champion's husband to know that Fenris will already be desperately hunting for his child, and the Champion...so much of their family is lost, it is unthinkable that Hawke will not be in the same state. Trying to convince them both that the inquisition has not kidnapped their offspring for political reasons will require all the tact she does not have.

And will rely on the very little goodwill she can wring from Varric, who she technically did kidnap for political reasons. She will need to keep Josephine close by at all times.

Solas: For so young a child, the dalen is already a political firestorm waiting to happen. The guilt he carries from having his magic stitched into their very flesh (and the pain this child is feeling from it) was already enough to convince him to stay, but being so close to the power center of both Inquisition and the Champion of Kirkwall is an unexpected boon. He will keep his finger on the pulse of all things anchor related, and keep himself close to the actions that are working to restore Thedas to order.

And by helping this child now, keep himself on the right side of a very angry elf who might be a problem before the Dread Wolf has his power returned.

Varric: Okay so, here’s the most important thing: he should have known.

Logically there is no way that Varric Tethras-Kirkwall’s author in residence and nominally a captive of the Right Hand of the Divine- could have known that the child of his best friend in the entire world had somehow snuck away from home AND traveled halfway across the blessed world AND infiltrated a highly secure theo-political conclave designed to reign in a burgeoning civil war to enact some sort of temporary peace. He has contacts and resources and keeps an ear to the ground, but that doesn’t mean the Merchant’s Guild can tell him everything the minute it happens.

And yet the fact that a child exists in the world who is half Fenris (impulsive and quick to defend what is his) Hawke (and carries the legacy of that family) really does mean that there wasn’t anywhere else they’d end up. It’s not a comfort to Varric when the Seeker and his best friend’s kid crest the hill toward them, but it certainly changes his standing with the Inquisition. So long as the kid is there Varric’s not leaving-- he owes Hawke at least that much and more. One way or another things are going to have to be put to rights.

Blackwall: Once, as another man in another life, his actions had led to the death of four children. Even then, in the height of his arrogance and conceit, Thom Rainier had stood over those small shrouded forms and would have given his own life a hundred times over to spare them. Nothing could have brought them back, of course, and no matter how many times he had knelt before Andraste's statues and begged for Her forgiveness it was not a burden he could lay down himself.

This child, Andraste's herald or not, is not a replacement for Collier's children. Defending their life will not wipe out the debt he owes to that slaughtered family. But as he shoulders his shield and sword in their defense, it just might be a start to that forgiveness.

That will be enough.

Vivienne: Children are not in a Circle mage's destiny, no matter how high her star may climb. The dreams of children with her perfect bone structure and Bastien's eyes will forever be only that. Madame de Fer has come to accept this, has spent her entire life accepting this. If she is softer with the new apprentices newly torn from their families, more patient with the young mages still struggling with a life behind walls, that is no one business but her own.

The Herald of Andraste is a child. No matter their illustrious parentage or the fame carried by those parents, they are too young to be bandied about as some sort of divine tool to rescue the world. The Game has no minimum age, of course, and Vivienne is not naive enough to think that Hawke's offspring will not have to play it in time, but she will be taking special care to to keep both eyes on the child to whom they will ask so much of.

And a sharper eye on those who would use them. Fenris is not the only one who can glow, when needed.

Sera: Little people need looking out for, and not much littler than a sprog. From the first jump their tiny Herald has an ever devoted guardian, one who ensures there is as much fun as serious herald business, and cookies for all.

When the parents do eventually arrive, her general distrust of all things magic and ardent desire to preserve their childhood will endear her to Fenris like none other in the Inquisition. Someone must look out for the little people, and while their methods are not the same each can respect the other.

Dorian: Vishente Kaffas, this is a child. In the light of that discovery a great many of his opinions on Alexius's plans (mostly on how his mentor is simply desperate to save Felix and not thinking clearly) and brutally altered. This man who wants to murder someone hardly old enough to see over the table is not the man he once knew, and there are no excuses he can make that will make it less barbaric.

By the time they are escaped from that terrible Not-Future Dorian has formed a trauma bond with this young person as profound as any he has known, and their safety is now absolutely his priority. Despite his disinclination for their creation Dorian is not opposed to children, and along with others is very content to take over their education in all things both mundane and magical.

Fenris's arrival is still loud and bright and involves quite a few angry comments between former slave and not yet magister, but in the end Dorian's unshirking resolve toward the young Herald will carry the day. When Fenris eventually finds out that his child is set to inherit Dorian's seat in the Magisterium as the heir to the current Pavus heir, that argument will be even louder.

Iron Bull: The Qun is very clear on the care and feeding of children in their charge, and it has never been in his destiny to be a Tamassran. Nor is the Iron Bull ignorant of the identity of the Inquisitors parents. But seeing how small the Herald is, something deep and protective in the mercenary captain surprises even himself.

(His Tama is both surprised and not to get a letter from her former charge, and if her memories of the little boy hold true he will read her meaning in the otherwise clinical advise on the care and keeping of young children.)

Watching the Chargers adopt the little Herald as one of their own has another lasting effect. There is no decision on the Storm Coast, not with this true understanding o family, and in truth Bull was lost to the Qun long before Gatt came south with an unbeatable test.

Cole: "So young, so bright, wanted to come south to find Uncle Varric, never meant to hurt anyone. You just wanted to help, to heal the hurt and make it whole. I want that too!"

The innocent and ardent desire of children to do good, and the boundless compassion that comes with youth, makes the Herald and Cole perfect companions. This friendship is strained by the arrival of Fenris's Anders driven loathing of abominations, but a more patient Hawke might ease the way there.

Josephine: She has younger siblings, and is currently responsible for the fate of House Montiliyet. The care and feeding of one small child is...well, child's play. If only Cassandra would not keep pulling her aside like some talisman against the Champion of Kirkwall.

If it were less entertaining, their ambassador might have informed the Seeker that her letters to Aveline Vallen have already abated much suspicion...

Leliana: There are one or two amongst her agents who have some experience with children, and she assigns them watch over their Herald. Beyond that, the spymaster keeps a distance. A child need not know all the brutal things done to keep the world turning. That is sacrifice enough.

If, every once in a while, the young herald is soothed after a nightmare with Ferelden lullabyes in an Orlesian accent, few are brave enough to share it.

Cullen: Maker's breathe, he'd thought he left Kirkwall behind him. Like Leliana he assigns soldiers who either are parents or who are good with children to keep a weather eye on the child, and adopts Cassandra's strategy of using Josephine as a shield against Champion and/or Lyrium Ghost rage.

Once was enough.

Mod Fereldone

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

I'm not an artist but hear me out, your honor, there was another way.

Veilguard spoilers to follow:

We start as ofc that ending option starts, with Morrigan holding out the Mythal statue and it starts misting and Solas is quaking, Lavellan is there ready to be whatever he needs, Rook just wants to take a page out of Solas' book and nap for fifty thousand years and then-the dialogue wheel that Rook always pictures before making any critical choice pops up, and this time there's an option besides trick, fight, or guilt.

"Goad?" Rook murmurs, almost definitely concussed again.

*thunk*

Arrow pierces glass, glass shatters, just about everyone screams because what the fuck are they supposed to do now with the volatile god caving in on himself??

We pan to two sets of feet, one high-heeled, the other in mismatching boots.

"You honestly believe the world is better off with you setting its course?" And oh, Vivienne has waited ten years to hit him back with that one. His eyes widen, his jaw falls, because they would never team up, it couldn't be...

"Too elfy. Could hear the other one lecturing from all the way down." Sera frowns at the shattered remains. "Bet that one would have offered to braid my hair and weep about what once was before offing us for fun." Solas blinks, stares at what remains of the closure he thought he needed before Sera fully takes in the situation for the first time and allows a truly terrifying smile to take over her face. "Hey, Solas..."

We cut to his eyes narrowing, not in a crafy Fen'harel scheming sort of way, but in a very real very grounded "sweet Maker not a-fucking-gain sort of way" that is all spirit of wisdom on guard because there's absolutely no reason for them to be here, no conceivable--

"Pbbbft."

Cut to the epilogue art of the dread wolf eternally chasing a tiny Sera and Vivienne across all of Thedas with a tiny Lavellan road runnering behind. The veil is saved thanks to the burning hate of frenemies and the quick thinking of Rook giving Solas a little pinprick when he drops the dagger to go gloves-off with his mortal enemies.

[salmbtchtrials]

Currently thinking about how my lavellan picks up a baking hobby after Tresspasser, and leaves a bunch of bagged pastries at the bases of fen'harel statues across thedas as she looks for solas.

A bunch of dalish children notice her, and she smiles and trades the pastries with them (they give little trinkets, marbles, etc) which she leaves instead at the statue.

"Why do you leave them here?" They ask her.

"Because we pray and offer to other gods, yet we put statues of fen'harel to protect us from spirits." She says.

"But he turned his back on the others! He's tricky and mean!"

She giggles. "If that really were true, would he not have turned his back on us already? Maybe he's helping us more than we realize."

"Then, why do you bring offerings now?"

"Because he's sad, child. Don't you hear the wolf's cry at night? He lost his pack long ago, his only friend being the sky and the moon."

"The sky started to bleed a few years ago. Although it has been stopped, fen'harel can still feel the wound reopening, as if something was scratching at its scab."

The children look at her a bit confused. "So you bring him cakes because he's sad for his friend?"

She nods. "He's been sad for a long time. I leave these for him, as a reminder that no one is never truely alone."

The kids nickname her "Fen'Heddnan" (Wolf's Heart/Wolf's Peace) as they tell eachother what happened and adults start to believe it's some sort of spirit that's doing all of it or kids playing pretend

[vir-tanadahl]

Timeless

Summary: Isera Lavellan is living in modern Thedas completing her research on plants when her research takes her to a place in the Solasan Mountain range. The discovery of a strange glowing mirror takes her to a world she has never known before where she meets someone she never thought existed. (Find on Ao3) Fen'harel (Solas) x Lavellan

Chapter 5: The Dread Wolf's Gaze

Isera slammed the door to her room, the echo of wood meeting stone sharp in the silence. Anger boiled in her chest, her breath coming in tight, uneven bursts. She was used to fighting uphill battles—proving again and again that she genuinely knew what she was doing, that her intelligence wasn’t tied to the pointed ears on her head. When she first started studying plants, there had always been the snide comments: “Oh, you’re studying plants? Of course, you are—you’re an elf!”

And when she was hired for her first teaching job, it hadn’t been enough to be smart. She had to be more than smart, to prove she wasn’t just “smart for an elf.”

She had danced around the subject of her race for years, shielding herself with careful composure. But it stung more coming from him—another elf. And not just any elf. Solas came from a time when elves had status, when they were something more. His words had carried a level of casual cruelty, so calm, so precise, that it had almost taken her by surprise.

Isera shook her head, forcing down the bitter taste of self-doubt rising in her throat. She refused to let the self-hatred she’d spent years burying claw its way back to the surface.

And to add insult to injury, the man wasn’t just any elf—he was Fen’harel, the Dread Wolf. The god who, according to legend, had damned the entire elven race by sealing away the gods. Why should it surprise her that he, of all people, would insult her? The legends all said the same thing: Fen’harel bore no love for the elven people. He had betrayed them once before.

The bitter irony gnawed at her, twisting the insult deeper.

Isera threw herself onto the bed, her mind swirling with half-formed plans of escape. Now, more than ever, she needed to find a way out of this place, a way back home. She clung to that thought—escaping, returning—her desire burning fiercer with every passing moment.

Isera blinked in surprise, realizing she hadn’t received her usual wake-up call from Felassan. The light streamed through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room as she sat up, her mind already swirling with questions. Quietly, she slipped out of bed, her footsteps light as she crossed the room in confusion.

On the table, a small stack of books caught her eye. One, in particular, stood out—The History of Magic. Isera frowned, narrowing her eyes at the suspicious offering. She approached cautiously, half-expecting some sort of trick, but when she picked up the book, nothing happened. Flipping through its pages quickly, she found it packed with detailed theories on the origins of magic, far more than she had anticipated.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, annoyance bubbling up as she slammed the book shut. Did Solas leave this here? she thought bitterly. Was this his way of making up for the insults he’d thrown at her? She rolled her eyes at the idea, swiftly changing into her day clothing.

‘Don’t fall for tricks of kindness—he’s the Dread Wolf,’ she reminded herself sharply. The legend of the Dread Wolf was known to all elves, city-born or clan-tied. His reputation for betrayal was ingrained in her culture, and she couldn’t let herself forget who he was. But as she headed into the garden, the thought gnawed at her—was this all part of a game? Insult her, then leave the very knowledge she sought within arm’s reach?

Isera blinked in confusion as she stepped into the garden, her eyes falling on a group of men and women standing nearby. They were watching her, their expressions a mixture of respect and hesitation. One of the men stepped forward, his head slightly bowed, his movements careful as though afraid to offend.

“Excuse me, my lady,” he began, his voice humble. “We have been watching you work the soil—we are grateful that Fen’harel has saved us, and we do not want to be a burden. Some of us used to harvest and seed plants, and we humbly offer to assist.”

Isera stared at him for a long moment, her mind snagging on a single phrase. ‘Fen’harel saved them?’The words echoed in her head, refusing to make sense. A frown crept across her face, confusion tightening her features.

“What do you mean Fen’harel saved you? From what?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended, the disbelief cutting through her usual composure.

The man blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “Surely, you know, my lady?” he said, straightening slightly, the surprise evident in his tone. “That is why you’ve come—to help us!” He gestured around him, as if the answer should have been obvious. “The war between the Gods—the false Gods. Fen’harel freed us. We were once slaves, forced to fight or be sacrificed.”

Isera continued to stare at the man, her confusion deepening with every word. ‘Fen’harel saved them?’ That wasn’t the story she’d grown up with. Everything she knew—everything she’d been taught—said that Fen’harel had sealed away the Gods, bringing ruin to the elves. He was the betrayer, not the savior. And never had she heard that the elves had enslaved their own people.

“You were a slave?” she asked, her hand instinctively moving to her stomach, a wave of anxiety rising within her. The thought that her people were no better than Tevinter gnawed at her, unsettling everything she thought she knew.

The man nodded, his expression calm. “No longer, my lady. But we will not be idle. We are free, and we choose to help.”

It took Isera a moment to process his words, her mind racing to catch up with this new reality. She swallowed, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “Yes, of course. If you would like to help, I would accept the offer.”

The man smiled warmly and turned, motioning to the group behind him. Without hesitation, they began moving to the garden, ready to work.

Isera stood rooted to the spot, her eyes following the quiet rhythm of the people working the garden, their hands deftly toiling the soil. Her mind, however, was in turmoil. ‘The Dalish couldn’t be wrong,’ she thought, her inner voice stumbling over itself in disbelief. ‘We were free, before Tevinter. Tevinter enslaved us. We didn’t enslave each other.’

Her thoughts spiraled, trying to grasp the reality of what she had just heard. These people—they were real, standing before her, telling her a history she had never known. A history that denied everything she had been taught. ‘If the pantheon aren’t gods, then who and what are they?’

Religion had never been central to her life, raised as she was outside of the Dalish clans in Rivain. She rarely prayed, and yet the Gods were woven into her culture, into her identity. Now, everything seemed to tilt on its axis. If the pantheon weren’t gods, what was the truth?

“Surprise, surprise,” came the familiar, sardonic voice of Felassan from behind her. “I see you managed some help.”

Startled from her thoughts, Isera turned to face him, her response automatic. “They offered,” she said, the words leaving her without a second thought, though her mind was still reeling from the revelations.

“They’re a superstitious group,” Felassan remarked, leaning against a post, his gaze drifting toward the people now working the garden. “You didn’t die from toiling the soil. They must believe you’ve healed the scourge from the land.”

Isera blinked at him, her confusion deepening. “What?” Her voice rose slightly, incredulous. “The land was cursed?”

Felassan turned his attention back to her, his expression still as casual as ever. “Of course it was,” he replied, almost amused by her confusion. “That’s why nothing was growing. Andruil sent her warriors for an attack and used magic to poison the land.”

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he spoke, clearly enjoying the revelation.

Isera scowled, her eyes narrowing dangerously as her teeth clenched. “And you knew this? I could have been poisoned?” she shrieked; her fists tight at her sides as she stared Felassan down. The realization hit her like a slap—the plants, the berries... They were different from the ones she’d sorted in the kitchen. “I could have died!” she shouted, her voice filled with both anger and disbelief.

Felassan, however, remained infuriatingly calm, his grin widening, mischief dancing in his violet eyes. “But you didn’t,” he hummed, his tone annoyingly cheerful, as if her fury only amused him.

A frustrated howl escaped her lips as she stormed past him, unwilling to entertain his smugness any longer. But as she stalked away, Felassan quickly jogged to catch up, his grin never fading. “My, you have a temper!” he teased, a laugh bubbling just under the surface. “Your face turns a lovely shade of red!”

Isera scoffed, coming to an abrupt halt and glaring at Felassan. “Oh, no,” she snarled, her voice dripping with fury. “My face turns red because I’m angry—it’s not lovely.” Her hand moved to her hip as the other pointed accusingly at him. “You knowingly let me walk into blighted land! You don’t care about my wellbeing, and you certainly don’t get to patronize me by calling my ‘temper’ lovely!”

Her voice rose with every word, frustration and outrage pouring out. “You and Solas—Fen’harel, whatever he wants to be called—are condensing, inconsiderate assholes!” she muttered, turning on her heel to walk away.

But before she could fully process how much Felassan annoyed her, his footsteps fell into place beside hers. His voice, no longer whimsical, carried a sharp edge as he ordered her to follow him. The sudden hardness in his tone sent a chill down her spine.

Isera froze, instinct taking over. Despite every ounce of resistance in her, something told her to listen—to follow. And so, begrudgingly, she did.

Felassan led her down a maze of vestibules before stopping in front of an ornate door. “Wait here,” he ordered, his tone still sharp, not even glancing back as he stepped inside.

Isera sighed, rolling her eyes as she lingered outside, staring at the door now slightly ajar. Felassan’s voice drifted from the other side, muffled but unmistakable. Curiosity tugged at her, and she shifted closer, peeking through the crack.

The chamber beyond was bathed in light, but there was something unsettling about it. A heavy sense of dread clung to the air, sending a shiver down her spine. Her breath caught as she recognized the silhouette standing in the room. Fen’harel. She stepped back quickly, retreating from the door as if the mere sight of him could burn her.

Leaning against the wall a few feet away, Isera shook her head, trying to steady her racing thoughts. ‘I need to get out of here,’ she thought, the urgency building in her chest. She had wasted enough time trying to help these people from the past. And now... how long had it been?

Her mind turned to her mother and brother. ‘They must be worried sick.’ And Dorian—her heart clenched at the thought. ‘They probably think I’m dead.’

Felassan emerged moments later, his eyes sweeping the area until they landed on her. Without a word, he motioned for her to follow. Isera trailed after him, her thoughts still lingering on what she’d overheard, her steps heavy with uncertainty.

He led her down another winding vestibule and into a chamber unlike any she’d seen. The walls and ceiling were made entirely of glass, allowing soft, golden light to flood the space. The room was teeming with plants, vibrant and lush, their leaves stretching toward the sun.

“A botanic garden…” Isera murmured, her guard dropping for the first time in what felt like ages. She stepped inside, the air clean and sweet, filling her lungs with a sense of calm she hadn’t felt since arriving. The smell of fresh greenery wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.

Behind her, Felassan cleared his throat. “You’ve been permitted to work here, in addition to the field,” he informed her, his tone formal, before turning and leaving the room, the door left wide open.

Isera watched him go, but her focus quickly shifted back to the garden. Slowly, she began walking deeper into the space, her footsteps soft on the stone floor. In the distance, she heard the gentle sound of running water and, as she neared the back, she saw it—a waterfall, cascading into a pool filled with blood lotus and black lotus, their dark blooms contrasting with the sparkling water.

Isera made her way back to the front of the garden, her eyes lingering on the vibrant greenery surrounding her. She spotted the desk she’d noticed earlier and sat down, her fingers lightly brushing the surface before her gaze landed on a worn journal. Curiosity piqued, she opened it, flipping through the delicate pages.

Inside were detailed notes and intricately drawn sketches of the plants the previous botanist had cared for. Each entry was meticulous, capturing the growth cycles, ideal conditions, and unique properties of each plant. Isera couldn’t suppress the surge of excitement bubbling up inside her.

This room—it was everything she had ever dreamed of. A sanctuary of thriving plants, a place where life flourished despite the odds. For a brief moment, all the tension, fear, and uncertainty she’d been carrying faded, replaced by the sheer joy of discovery. The familiar voice of Fen’harel cut through the quiet, causing Isera to jolt so violently that she tumbled off the chair. She had been so deep in thought, immersed in the botanist's journal, that the sound of his voice sent a shock through her system. Snapping her head up, she found him standing there, his presence filling the room.

But this time, something was different. He wasn’t wearing the imposing golden armor she’d seen him in before. Instead, he was dressed simply, in cloth, his demeanor calm and possibly more relaxed. Her eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across her features as she watched him warily.

The room was bathed in soft magical light, the stillness of late night pressing in around them.

“My apologies,” he said quietly, bowing his head slightly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His tone was softer than usual, and his arms hung loosely at his sides, making him appear almost... unthreatening. “I see Felassan disobeyed orders,” he murmured, his gaze sweeping across the garden.

Isera said nothing as she continued to watch him. Fen’harel looked… exhausted. The dark circles beneath his eyes were more pronounced than ever, and his shoulders sagged with the weight of something unspoken. She sighed, shaking her head slightly, and gently closed the book before standing.

“I can… leave,” she murmured, the words slipping out more quietly than she intended. Her voice faltered, uncertain, as she turned toward the door, her movements slow, as though she wasn’t quite sure if she meant it.

Before she could take another step, Fen’harel raised his arm, blocking her path. His head tilted as he shook his head. “That will not be necessary,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind.

Isera hesitated, her gaze flickering up toward him, uncertainty tugging at her thoughts. She wanted to stay in the conservatory, but she still felt the sting of her lingering frustration from the night before. He hadn’t even apologized.

“It is late,” she whispered, her eyes darting toward the door, unsure of what else to say.

He let his arm fall, the moment stretching out between them. “Then, good night,” he murmured, his tone subdued as he turned away and walked deeper into the atrium, his figure disappearing into the soft glow of the garden.

Isera nodded quietly, leaving the conservatory and heading back to her room without glancing back.

[totentnz]

remember the ancient elf au i posted about a few weeks ago? well the marble rolling around in my head hit a corner and i got an idea

[wizardofozymandias]

Inquisitor as a Companion: Nessa Lavellan

Thanks to @little-lightning-lavellan​ for coming up with this template idea! This was a great writing exercise. Putting most of this under a cut because it’s really long. (Portrait of Nessa by @m-m-m-myysurana​) 

You have selected Nessa Lavellan to join your party!

Race: Dalish elf

Gender: Female

Class: Mage (pyromancer)

Specialization: Rift Mage

Background

Nessara “Nessa” Enasalas Haranal Lavellan  (born 9:02 Dragon) is a Dalish mage, scholar, and diplomat from the Free Marches. Prior to adventuring, she trained as First to the Keeper of Clan Lavellan. She is a companion and a potential romance option for a male Inquisitor of any race. 

The daughter of Clan Lavellan’s Hahren and a Rivaini Dalish merchantwoman, Nessa was raised with a love for stories. As soon as she could read, she devoured her clan’s small library and begged for more. Her father indulged her as much as he could, purchasing any promising tomes from travelers who were willing to trade with the Dalish. Nessa’s mother taught her all the languages she had learned in her travels across Thedas. Growing up, Nessa became close friends with Maelin, the First to Clan Lavellan’s Keeper. She was fascinated by his magic, but showed no talent of her own. 

When she was old enough to be apprenticed, Nessa was assigned to the Clan’s Craftsmaster, who taught her to incorporate the stories she loved into her work. Nessa learned a number of handcrafts, such as woodcarving and leatherworking, as well as how to create arms and armor. She would often emboss images from Dalish legends onto the leather armor of the Clan’s warriors. 

One of the traditions of Clan Lavellan was to send the young clan members who were almost ready to receive their vallaslin to visit one of the human settlements in the Free Marches for two weeks. The tradition helped uphold relations between the Dalish and the city elves and allowed the young adults to experience city life. In 9:19 Dragon, just shy of their eighteenth birthdays, Nessa and Maelin were sent to Tantervale.

On their last day in Tantervale, Nessa and Maelin were approached by a family who begged them to take their eight-year-old son out of the city. He had recently come into his magic and his parents feared he would be taken to the Circle. Nessa and Maelin attempted to escape with the child, but the templars ambushed them outside the city. In the violence, Maelin and the child were killed. Upon witnessing their deaths, Nessa released a blast of fire magic that immolated the remaining templars. She was found by her clan a week later, wandering dazed in the woods. Once her grief had passed, Nessa devoted herself to studying magic and eventually was appointed First to her Clan’s Keeper. 

Before leaving her Clan, Nessa used her place as First to further diplomatic relations between the Dalish, humans, and city elves. She also established a respectable traveling library of Dalish lore and history that welcomes anyone who wishes to study. Care of the library was passed on to the Clan’s Hahren before Nessa left to further her study on elvhen history and legends. 

Involvement

Dragon Age II

If imported from a World State where the Hero of Ferelden is a Dalish elf:

Nessa learns that the former First of Mahariel’s Clan is in the Free Marches. Hoping to create an account of the Hero’s life, Nessa travels to Sundermount to speak with Merrill. Hawke encounters Nessa in Act 1 during Merrill’s recruitment quest Long Way Home. 

Upon entering the Dalish camp, Hawke will find Nessa arguing with Keeper Marethari about Merrill. When approached, Keeper Marethari will wave Nessa aside in order to speak to Hawke. Speaking with Nessa afterward will begin the side quest The Hero’s Legacy. Nessa will explain her intent to write about Mahariel. This opens dialogue options about Dalish history and the Hero of Ferelden. 

Nessa will attempt to accompany Hawke to meet Merrill, but Marethari will intervene. Upon returning to the Dalish camp, Nessa will introduce herself to Merrill and invite Merrill to return with her to Clan Lavellan. Merrill will refuse, saying she no longer has a place among the Dalish. 

In Act 2, once Merrill’s companion quest Mirror Image has been completed, the sidequest Reconnection will become available. Merrill mentions that Nessa has written to her. Hawke can encourage Merrill to write to Nessa or tell her to give up on the Dalish. 

If Merrill receives Hawke’s encouragement:

Merrill will later mention corresponding with Nessa. 

If Merrill is romanced: 

One of Nessa’s letters to Merrill will appear on Hawke’s table. It thanks Merrill for her help in documenting Warden Mahariel’s life and indicates that Nessa is seeking the account’s publication. 

Dragon Age: Inquisition 

If the Default World State is used or imported from a World State where the Hero is a Dalish elf:

Nessa Lavellan can be recruited during the quest Address the Chantry in Val Royeaux. She appears in the crowd near the podium. When approached, she will admit her surprise at learning the Inquisition has risen again. Nessa will also mention that she is visiting the University of Orlais, seeking a publisher for her book on Warden Mahariel. 

If the Hero is not a Dalish elf: 

Nessa will introduce herself as a scholar seeking admission to the University of Orlais. 

If the Inquisitor is a Dalish elf:

Nessa will be pleased to see another of her people in Val Royeaux. This opens an elf-specific dialogue tree in which the Inquisitor can ask Nessa about their Clan. To a non-mage Lavellan, Nessa explains that she gave up her place as First of her Clan in order to further her research into elvhen history. 

Regardless of the World State, the Inquisitor can recruit Nessa or have Solas ask her to join the Inquisition. If Nessa is not recruited at Val Royeaux, she will appear again in the Jaws of Hakkon DLC, working alongside Colette as an assistant to Bram Kenric. She can still be persuaded to join the Inquisition with a special dialogue option (either as an elven Inquisitor or with the History Knowledge perk). 

Trespasser

If the Inquisitor is in a relationship with Nessa:

In the two years since Corypheus was defeated, Nessa has remained at Skyhold to finish cataloguing the library and working on the research that she and Solas were assigned. An optional wedding cutscene is available at the Winter Palace. 

If the Inquisitor is friends with Nessa: 

She has spent the past two years in Orlais collaborating with Collette on a book about Lindiranae, the last of the Emerald Knights. She encourages the Inquisitor to visit her at the University of Orlais. 

If Nessa is in a relationship with Solas:

She will mention her fruitless attempts to find him. After the Inquisitor’s encounter with Solas, Nessa will rejoin the Inquisition as an Agent. 

Quests

Dragon Age II

The Hero’s Legacy (conditional)

Dragon Age: Inquisition

Acquire Research Materials (war table)

We Are the Last Elvhen - companion quest

A Well-Stocked Library (war table)

Emma Ir Abelas [“Now I am filled with sorrow”] (conditional, Save Clan Lavellan failed) 

Vir Lath Sa’vunin [“We love one more day”] - romance quest 

Approval

As a Dalish mage, Nessa is most inclined to approve of Inquisitors who support mages and elves. She supports free thinking and exploration, rather than restrictive institutions. She generally approves of Inquisitors who are willing to explore new magic, accept apostates, and speak with spirits. Because of her past traumatic encounter with the Templars, Nessa strongly distrusts the Chantry and believes their hold over mages should be broken. She supports any decisions that weaken the Chantry. Pious Andrastian Inquisitors may earn some disapproval from her until they’ve gained her trust. 

Nessa is diplomatic, philosophical, and compassionate. She approves of decisions that offer mercy to those who are hurting, as well as those that seek the best compromise in difficult situations. Inquisitors who are open-minded and empathetic will find it easy to earn Nessa’s respect.  

Approval Gained: 

Complete In Hushed Whispers and recruit the rebel mages.

Recruit the Grey Wardens during Here Lies the Abyss.

Gain enough court approval (85 or more) to have Florianne de Chalons arrested during Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.

Choose the Public Truce or appoint Gaspard and Briala to rule together during Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.

Allow Celene to be killed at the Winter Palace.

Spare Abelas and the Sentinels during What Pride Had Wrought.

(Elven Inquisitor Only) Drink from the Well of Sorrows

Approval Lost:

Conscript the rebel mages.

Side with the templars by completing Champions of the Just.

Make Alexius tranquil during his judgement.

Exile the Grey Wardens during Here Lies the Abyss.

Reconcile Celene and Briala during Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.

Complete The Spoils of Desecration in the Exalted Plains. 

Kill the pride demon during All New, Faded for Her.

Kill the Sentinels during What Pride Had Wrought. 

Romance

Nessa may be romanced by a male Inquisitor of any race or class. Nessa is cautious about relationships and it takes several attempts to begin a romance with her. Her romance is unlocked after gaining friendly approval with her, flirting with her consistently, and completing her personal quest, We Are the Last Elvhen. 

If neither Nessa nor Solas is in a relationship with the Inquisitor: 

Nessa may enter a relationship with Solas. 

Combat Comments

Low Health

“Mythal enaste!”

“Someone help!”

“Not today!”

Companion falls

(Inquisitor): You’re not allowed to die here!

(Inquisitor, if romanced): Don’t you dare die on me, vhenan!

(Cassandra): Hang in there, Cass!

(Dorian): Don’t leave me, Dorian!

(Solas): Hold on, Solas! 

(Solas, if romanced): Stay with me, vhenan!

Enemy killed

“May the Dread Wolf take you!”

“Ma halam!”

“To the Void with you!”

Location Comments

Arbor Wilds

(Seeing the Temple of Mythal) “I had no idea there were places like this left in the world. I’m so lucky I get to see it.”

(While Solas and Morrigan are arguing over the Fen’Harel statue) “If anyone would like a Dalish scholar’s perspective on this, feel free to ask. No? Keep arguing then.” 

(Examining the murals in the Temple) “Mosaics. They look like glass. I’ve never seen art like this done by my people. How old must this temple be?”

Emerald Graves

“So beautiful and so sad. All the places my people lived are haunted now.”

“The Emerald Knights rode here once. I wonder what they saw then.”

(Encountering the elven murals) “Looks like the Emerald Knights had some interesting ideas about proper armor.” 

Emprise du Lion

“Whose idea was it to drag me to this gods-forsaken snowdrift?”

“My frostbite is getting frostbitten!”

Exalted Plains

“This is where Lindiranae fell. The air feels full of ghosts.” 

“So many wolves. Fen’Harel certainly keeps close watch on this place.”

Hinterlands

“If I see one more gods-damned bear, I’m going home!”

(Seeing the dragon near Dusklight Camp) “That’s a lot of fire. I wonder if this is how the templars feel when they see me coming.”

Lost Temple of Dirthamen 

“What a shame it’s too dark and damp to take notes in here. I hope I don’t forget anything!”

(Looking at one of the altars) “Are those. . .body parts? This can’t be right. This is no ritual of Dirthamen.”

(Upon completing the ritual) “And. . .it’s a demon. Guess I should’ve expected that.” 

Companion/Advisor Comments about Nessa

Iron Bull: Did you know she used to be a blacksmith? Still hits like it, too. I asked her to spar with me once. Knocked me flat on my ass!

Sera: She seems like she’s all elven glory and shite at first. Y’know, “my people’ve suffered forever and I won’t shut up about it,” but really she’s a lot of fun. 

Cassandra: Nessara is a very headstrong woman. I cannot say I will ever agree with her views on the Chantry. But she has proven to be a loyal companion and a good friend. 

Cole: Hungry, like a fire. She seeks wisdom to heal wounds older than her. Their deaths weigh on her still. 

Varric: Buckets? Don’t let that pretty face fool you, she’s got a tongue that’ll scorch you worse than those flames of hers ever could. Good thing it takes a lot to get her mad. 

Josephine: Mistress Lavellan is an amazing woman. It is a shame the University of Orlais has not admitted her yet. She will make a fine scholar. But for now, I am thankful to have her here at Skyhold. Her knowledge of the Dalish will be a great asset, I believe. 

Vivienne: It is a shame her studies could not have been furthered in a Circle, where she might have had access to more materials and better teaching. But she has a good chance to achieve her ambitions now, and seems ready to take that advantage. 

Solas: Lavellan has a keen intellect and a surprising talent for magic. I fear she may pride herself too much on those things. 

Solas (if romanced): She possesses a rare strength of spirit, valuing wisdom and kindness over wealth or power. This world would be a far better place if more followed her example. 

Dorian: Nessa? An absolutely brilliant woman. If good sense prevails at the University of Orlais, I suspect she’ll be running the place in a few years. Although “good sense” and “Orlais” hardly belong in the same sentence. 

Cullen: If you ever play chess with her, take my advice: treat her like any other opponent. I tried to be a gentleman and let her win once. She caught on and gave me the soundest tongue-lashing of my life. 

Trivia

Nessa’s greatest fear is failing her people.

Varric nicknamed Nessa “Buckets” after watching Sera douse her with water while Nessa demonstrated a fire spell. 

Having trained with her Clan’s Craftsmaster, Nessa is a talented woodcarver and blacksmith. She likes discussing carving with Blackwall and smithing with Dagna.

Party banter suggests that Nessa is more comfortable around spirits than most Dalish elves, having grown up with her mother’s stories about Rivain.

[jackdawyt]

Well, punch me in the teeth and call me the Dread Wolf! BioWare have already revealed another trailer for the next Dragon Age this year! The Game Awards 2020 premiered a beautiful-cinematic trailer that showcased many locations, factions, characters and foes we’ll witness in the next instalment. As per usual, we have many thoughts, theories and tinfoils on everything this trailer revealed!

However, before we break down the trailer, we have two descriptions of the next Dragon Age game shared separately on YouTube and Twitter.  

On YouTube, the trailer’s description said:  

“The world of Dragon Age needs a new hero – someone who can take on the evil forces threatening Thedas. Get a first look at some of the new locations you’ll discover and the factions fighting by your side in the next chapter of Dragon Age.”  

And shared on Twitter, the post said:  

“The world of Thedas needs you, a new hero. The next #DragonAge will see the return of Solas… and an old friend.”  

https://twitter.com/dragonage/status/1337198092957839365

Of course, the old friend no doubt refers to Varric who narrated this brand-new cinematic trailer. That’s right, the one, the only, our storytelling-chest-haired dwarf is coming back in the next Dragon Age, so we’re already going to have some familiarity in the next adventure.

With that said, let’s breakdown the entire contents of this new trailer and what it means for the next Dragon Age!

Meredith & Corypheus

The trailer started by revealing the first piece of a brand-new stone-etched mural.  

Knight-Commander Meredith was shown, infused with red lyrium, holding her sword “Certainty”.

Followed up with Corypheus holding Solas’s orb towards the heavens. During this point, Varric said: “I’ve faced tyrants and would-be gods.”  

These two shots clearly showcase the previous events of Dragon Age that have somehow circulated towards Solas’s scheme to destroy the Veil and deal with the Evanuris.  

Meredith took the Red Lyrium Idol and forged it into a sword, the idol itself apparently belongs to Solas, and he cares for it and recognises its depiction. Meredith was turned into a thawed red lyrium statue, and the red lyrium idol was found and retrieved inside her statued body. The idol’s current whereabouts are unknown.

"The Dread Wolf wants that idol, and he’s not afraid to get his hands bloody to get it." (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 490). “He intends something for the Fade, and if he wants the idol, then whatever he intends will be terrible.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 498).

Whereas Corypheus intended on using Solas’s orb to usurp the throne of the gods for himself. Solas, banking on the magister’s failure, sought out to regain his orb after Corypheus unlocked it, and died doing so. In this ideal situation, Solas would then use his orb and destroy the veil.  

However, that didn’t happen. Instead Solas’s orb was destroyed by crumbling rocks with Corypheus’s defeat. The elven god strives to find alternative ways to destroy the veil.

Both these foes at the start of Solas’s new mural show that what’s coming next will be much worse than any catastrophe in Thedas and that these events have always been set in stone for the Dread Wolf. It’s like he’s drawn Corypheus and said, you thought he was tough, wait till you see what I can do.  

Two Evil Gods

The trailer continued with the next pieces in this mural, two carvings of very enigmatic figures. The first engraving has an arched headpiece, red eyes, a spiky torso, and wavy lines coming from their head, with a haloed sun or moon behind them.

Immediately, this spooky figure reminds us of the evil god shown in BioWare’s Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development. However, we believe the figure shown in this book resembles the elven goddess “Ghilan'nain, the Mother of the Halla” who created giants, monsters, and beasts that spanned across the sky, water, and earth.

While this depiction of an evil god is concept art, there is one key difference between the two figures - the evil god in the concept art has four arms, whereas the mural figure has two arms. So, are they depicting the same god? We’ll certainly come back to this figure later on.  

The next figure has a very curved headpiece, elven ears, and clawed-looking shoulder pieces. With another haloed sun behind their head, this leads us to believe this is yet another evil god.

Personally, this figure reminds us of Dirthamen’s statue we saw in Inquisition, but this could honestly be anyone... And we’ll touch on that when we get to the finished mural.  

While these two figures are shown, Varric said: “Seen friends lose life and limb, but there’s always someone bent on breaking the world.”  

Obviously referring to allies previously lost, like potentially Hawke, and even the Inquisitor’s anchor. However, the enemies bent on breaking the world paint the figures shown as evil and malevolent. Of course, it’s not Dragon Age without someone trying to destroy the world.    

BioWare Logo

In the next sequence, a golden BioWare logo appears with a sun behind it, perhaps this relates the previous figure to Elgar’nan considering Elgar’nan was said to be born of the sun?

Anderfels/Grey Warden

Taking our minds away from the mural for a moment, the trailer began to explore iconic locations and factions that are going to feature heavily in the next Dragon Age.

The first location is a blazing desert with rough sands, cobblestone, and huge puddles. We think this is the Anderfels, Thedas’s blighted western lands. Over the horizon are multiple, huge reptile creatures. They look like turtle monsters similar to the Ankylosaurs, which is a kind of armoured dinosaur with a clubtail.

During this sequence, Varric said: “It’s time for a new hero.” As grey boots entered the shot. No doubt, referring to the next protagonist. The boots are instantly recognisable as a Grey Warden’s. You can see a dark blue tint on their leggings, as grey and blue are the Warden’s colours.  

Not to mention, the biggest indicator that this character is a Warden, is the location. A Grey Warden being in The Anderfels makes complete sense considering Weisshaupt, the Warden’s headquarters are located there.

More importantly, the fact that Varric said: “it’s time for a new hero” while showing this Grey Warden, and the trailer continued to show different factions, while still talking about the idea of a new hero. We think this indicates to the overall message of this trailer, being that perhaps this time around we can choose the faction our new hero belongs to. Like origin stories, our hero can choose between at least 4 or more different factions within Thedas.

While the Grey Wardens and many other factions will join our fight as key roles in the story like “Davrin” who was hinted at in the Gamescom trailer, having the choice to choose where your hero is from would make for an epic RPG, and a great callback to the series' roots.

Antiva/Antivan Crow

The next location revealed the most elegant nation of Antiva, looking absolutely stunning with its gold accents, and regal aesthetic. When compared to the Behind-the-Scenes concepts, we can certainly see the similarities between the early concepts and the CGI reveal. Most notably, the Disney-like palace that encompasses every shot.

Still sharing about our new hero, Varic said: “No magic hand, no ancient prophecy.” As a zoom-in shot of Antiva City revealed an Antivan Crow stirring a goblet of wine. The palace behind the goblet had magical energy emerging into the skies.

The shot pulled back, and revealed an Antivan Crow sat on the rooftops of Antiva, looking over the city. With Varric talking about the next hero being a nobody, with no magical anchor, and no ancient prophecy, can we choose to play as an Antivan Crow?

If this Crow is not showcasing the option of a new hero, then perhaps this is a Crow who will join our journey, like one of the Antivan Crow Talons. I see a lot of similarities with this cinematic shot and the recent short story - “The Wake,” which was all about the Talons mourning their lost friend.

Antiva as a whole, looks astonishing, from the rivers flowing through the city, to the picturesque sky, the city looks like a delightful place to take a love interest. However, we’re most curious about the magical energy emerging from the palace. Perhaps Antiva City prepares for the imminent Qunari Antaam invasion?

Tevinter Imperium/Siccari

The next location revealed the most prideful, gothic nation known as the Tevinter Imperium. This beautifully macabre shot is most likely showcasing Tevinter’s capital city, Minrathous.  

Once the motherland of the ancient elves before the veil’s creation, Tevinter was founded on the ruins of the elven kingdom, we can see many magical marvels and wonders in this cinematic shot. For instance, we have magical neon lighting guiding you through the city and the floating structure that stands in the centre.  

Perhaps this haunting structure is the Magisterium, or Minrathous’s Circle Tower? Regardless, the ferocious architecture and dark themes truly define Tevinter as a remarkable, and otherworldly nation. A lot of these undertones look similar to one of the concept art pieces shown at Gamescom.

Followed with this shot, Varric said: “The kind of person they will never see coming.” As a new hooded-character was revealed pulling out a winged-dagger ready to attack a blurred figure in a Tevinter alleyway. Not to sound like a broken record, but again, Varric is mentioning the new hero, so is this character one of the potential factions we can choose, and if so, what faction?

Well, because it seems like we’re in the streets of Tevinter, we think this character represents the Tevinter Siccari. This faction was recently introduced in Tevinter Nights, they are the Imperium’s best shadow network, made of highly skilled and secretive agents who each come from slave families, they are formidable and honourable warriors.  

“I have heard many things of the Tevinter Siccari,” the Mortalitasi added, “but I have never heard them called cowards or traitors. Most of them come from slave families, and those families are kept safe as both promise and threat, ensuring the Siccari never flinch from their duties. (The Dread Wolf Take You, page 503). ““Tevinter’s intelligence network declined to answer our request.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, page 485).

This hooded-figure has what-looks like keys on their chest, along with a very golden logo on their shoulder, which looks like an owl? The dagger also looks to have a winged bird on its helm.

If this figure doesn’t represent a faction the player can choose between, then perhaps they’re a shadowy Tevinter character from an unknown faction, or they could be someone like Neve, who was introduced in Tevinter Nights as a private investigator working out of Minrathous. However, we feel like Tevinter Siccari is the best bet, because they’re literally the Imperium’s spies.

Executor/Ancient Elf?

Followed by that, a most intriguing character appeared walking through a snowy forest. The figure has a three-horned headpiece, with trims of red on their outfit, holding a bow made of floating triangles.

The location of this area is the exact same as the sexy tree we witnessed at EA Play, the gloomy, midnight snow graveyard, with infected red lyrium and Ferelden architecture. The tree appeared on the right, as this mysterious character shot their enigmatic bow. With the location being the same as the tree, it can be anywhere close to the equator where it can snow, like southern Tevinter, northern Nevarra, or it could literally be anywhere in the mountains. The Ferelden architecture really throws us off though.

This new character is also a mystery, who exactly are they, and what faction do they represent? Well, we've never seen anyone like this before, so they could totally be something brand-new.

However, we can piece a few things together, like the magical, triangle bow. We saw this exact design in a concept piece at Gamescom, with many thinking that this design was ancient elven. On top of that, in the “Ruins of Reality” short story art piece that featured the Starkhaven elf known as Strife, he wore a red cloak with floating triangles on it.

However, even more intriguing, his cloak had the Executor’s logo on it - “a downward-pointed triangle with two wavy lines drawn through it.”

So, does this new character represent either The Executors, or an ancient elven clan? The Executors are mysterious beings who come from beyond the sea, they’ve been described to wear “dark robes of Vyrantium samite, with a thin mesh dropping down to cover the hood.”

I see a gold trim covering their face, but I don’t know if that headpiece constitutes as a hood? Even so, we don’t know what Executors look like.  

If this character represents an ancient elven clan faction, that would explain why they have this magical bow that fires as if projected with Fade magic, also illustrating the more alien look to this character.

Regardless, we think this character is quite the enigma, they could just as easily represent a Tal-Vashoth clan, a new Nevarran faction, or something brand-new that hasn’t been explored in the games yet.

Varric Tethras

During this entire sequence, Varric said: “We’ve got your back, I’ve got your back.” By, “we’ve got your back” we assume he’s speaking on behalf of the Inquisition’s remnants like the Divine, Scout Harding, Charter and company, who’re pursuing after the Dread Wolf. However, even more than that, Varric said, he’s got our back. So, Varric is coming back in the next game as a pivotal role it seems, hopefully, this time around we can romance our chest-haired friend, please?

Fen’Harel

Varric followed that up and said: “Demons, dragons, darkspawn, even the Dread Wolf.” As the next sequence revealed a very familiar Fen’Harel...

Solas is pressing one of his hands on this fresco that depicts him as the Dread Wolf rising. He’s touching the mouth of the Dread Wolf, as the beast’s teeth appear red, most likely to resemble red lyrium? Does Solas’s plan involve ingesting red lyrium? The substance does weaken the veil after all, so is Solas going to become blighted in order to fulfill his scheme?  

As Solas approached, we can see he has clothed himself in ancient elven robe-like armour with varying tints of green. He looks very stoic, but also a little bit sad.

New Mural

The cinematic mural that featured behind Solas was posted as a painting on the Dragon Age website, so we can take a greater look at it, and decipher its meaning.

https://twitter.com/Nthornborrow/status/1337521623084093440

Straight up, we can see the Dread Wolf with six blazing blue eyes, previously the Dread Wolf was depicted with red blazing eyes, however, this time around, his eyes are blue? This clearly has something to do with lyrium Maybe the Dread Wolf’s eyes will turn red once he has become tainted? Or Perhaps there’s a chance we could stop him from becoming tainted before it’s too late?

As stated, the Dread Wolf has six eyes, exactly like his description in Tevinter Nights. A Mortalitasi mage witnessing the Dread Wolf explained the description of a lupine, monstrous six-eyed Wolf the size of a High Dragon.

“Lupine in appearance, but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 496).

With the proportion of his eyes, there could be some significance to them, or it could honestly just be an art style. However, I wouldn’t deny anything relating to Old God souls or the amount of Evanuris left. But we feel the size of each eye shows us that the Dread Wolf is dealing with some sort of distortion with his appearance, like absorbing Mythal’s power metamorphosing him to become more draconic.

The Dread Wolf is bursting through the Black City which is imbued in red lyrium.

We can see the Dread Wolf has destroyed the Veil by the representation of the spheres that have exploded with a roaring fire. With its destruction, the Fade and the waking world of Thedas have become one. With the world burning in the raw chaos, Solas could then restore the time of the elves.

Two Evil Gods Identity  

These statues are old. Better shape than anything I've seen on the surface. Many of them are for Mythal, though. And Fen'Harel. Not in a spot of honor, but guarding, attending.

Protector and All-Mother, why are you honored here, so far from the light of the sun? And why was the Dread Wolf at your side? — Torn Notebook in the Deep Roads

The two evil figures on the left and right side look like the eluvians and statues from the Vir Dirthara, the ancient elvhen Library. And according to Tevinter Nights, there are many elvhen libraries throughout the land of Thedas like the one near the Imperial Highway. These ‘headpieces’ the figures have are slightly different and differentiate each member of the Pantheon from one another.

it’s honestly hard to tell who these figures could be Pantheon-wise, but here are some of our tinfoil bits that can correlate to their appearance:

When we reacted to this trailer live, we stated that these two figures could resemble the elvhen twins Falon’Din and Dirthamen. Their statues look very similar to these figures, but now that we have studied it, the figure on the left looks more feminine with long hair so this could be Ghilan’nain who has been mentioned a lot recently in the Dragon Age’s short stories and Tevinter Nights. If that figure on the left is Ghilan’nan, then the right still has to be Dirthamen who we know has a closer relationship with Ghilan’nain through Dalish and ancient elvhen legends.

"His crime is high treason. He took on a form reserved for the gods and their chosen, and dared to fly in the shape of the divine. The sinner belongs to Dirthamen; he claims he took wings at the urging of Ghilan'nain, and begs protection from Mythal. She does not show him favor, and will let Elgar'nan judge him." — Old Elvhen Writing

On the other hand, these figures could represent Elgar’nan and Mythal, who are closely related to Fen’Harel’s redemption to break the Veil.

“Long ago, when time itself was young, the only things in existence were the sun and the land. The sun, curious about the land, bowed his head close to her body, and Elgar'nan was born in the place where they touched.” — Codex entry: Elgar'nan: God of Vengeance.

“And that night, when the sun had gone to sleep, Mythal gathered the glowing earth around his bed, and formed it into a sphere to be placed in the sky, a pale reflection of the sun's true glory.” — Codex entry: Mythal: the Great Protector.

We could say that the masculine figure represents Elgar’nan who is represented as a sun. And Mythal, who represents the moon. If these two gods are side by side with Fen’Harel, then the Emergent Compendium’s reference could come true:

‘Two shadowed spheres among stars, an eclipse as Fen’Harel stirred’  

However, this could be a stretch knowing that Solas already has the remaining power of Flemeth, and Elgar’nan also has barely been mentioned, it is worth knowing that these figures have a similar reference to these gods either way...

Another connection these figures could resemble are the remaining old gods that bring forth the blights.  

In our Dread Wolf Rises mural breakdown back in 2018, we talked about the centrepiece of the artwork, with the massive moon that had two golden circles still lit, while 5 of them were greyed out. Most certainly referring to the past and future blights.  

In our new mural, behind these two figures there are the same golden circles. If we are comparing these two murals together these figures could be the two remaining Old Gods left who aren’t blighted, Razikale and Lusacan.

According to Solas, if there is any chaotic event in Thedas, spirits will pull against the Veil, weakening its forces. So, if Razikale and Lusacan were to become Archdemons at the same time, that could potentially tear the Veil hence the Dread Wolf rising in the moment to change the world once again.

Razikale is the only Old God to be confirmed female, so according to the mural, this theory might not be far off from this depiction. These Gods have not been tainted and have been left somewhere sleeping for centuries, to awaken them will require most of Thedas to become blighted in order to escalate the timing of two Blights happening at once.  

However, that’s just a theory, as we know, evil gods have Thedas in their sights, it really just depends which gods we’re talking about. We lean more to the Evanuris in this mural, however, the old gods are not out of the picture yet, as shown in The Dread Wolf Rises mural. We feel a double blight is in store for the future of Thedas.

Dragon Age New Font

Anyhow, the trailer ends with a new Dragon Age font and colour, I wonder if gold is going to be the main tone of the next game.  

Varric ended the trailer, and said: “This is your story.” No doubt referring to the fact that the narrative will be shaped by your choices and consequences.

Regardless, this trailer was amazing, and we’re so happy we actually had another look at the next Dragon Age game! We want to know all of your thoughts and speculation down below, how excited are you knowing that Varric is coming back?

[lairofdragonagelore]

Denerim

Denerim is the capital of Ferelden as well as an arling of the kingdom and the seat of the annual Landsmeet. It is built around the base of a mountain known as Dragon's Peak. The Drakon River crosses the city from west to east before ending in the Amaranthine Ocean.

It is considered a holy city to worshipers of Andraste, as it is the place of her birth. 

Denerim originally began as an outpost of the ancient Tevinter Imperium. Its mages rose up a dark tower from the side of a mountain, a symbol of the Imperium's power. As the Imperium faded, the tower passed to the hands of the teyrns that ruled the region for a millennium. Today that tower still stands as Fort Drakon, immediately recognizable to any ship that approaches the rocky coast. The city that has sprung up around it has almost been carved out of the side of the mountain it rests on, and during the Dragon Age, its population has grown beyond the city's ability to cope.

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

About Denerim there is little to say in terms of architecture and statues. The most impressive one among the modern structures is the Chantry

Like the one we saw in Haven [here], it shows all the iconography of thorny suns and small semi-circular arcs with “sun rays” that could be interpreted as thorns [this recursive element present all across the game].

Another place with interesting objects is “Wonders of Thedas” the magical shop of the city.

There, we will find those curious objects we saw in the Tower of Magi's basement [here] or in many places where Tevinter experiments were performed, like in the Brecilian Ruins [here]. There is also wooden dragons.

Along the many corridors and alleys of the city we found more of those statues that can be interpreted as elven if we strictly follow what the Dalish camp has taught us [here] .

In this case, in the Black Alley, we find three statues of what we think is Sylaise, the elven god of domesticity. It's curious how this interpretation doesn't strike too out of place [Denerim is a pretty homey city].  In one of these back alleys, we found Gaxkang, the unbound, one of the Forbidden Ones [See related post], ancient demons of all times.

The lore found in notes written by unknown authors says that the contact with these demons allowed the knowledge of the blood magic to be known by humans.

If we focused on the Arl of Denerim's Estate, we will find in the exterior of it four statues we never were taught about. Due to the similarities with Andruil, we can think this is a non-agressive version of her.

From the Arl's Estate the most shocking one is the backyard:

where we find these statues, that so far, have been related to where Darkspawn was beginning to conquer a region. This is the most strange thing we found here. The fact that they are in the back of the Estate, not visible unless you go there, hidden, is more than suspicious. Deliberated choice or truly accidental place of statues? Could this be related to the Blood Mage quest? Nobody knows.

Inside the Estate there is little to say: a lot of Ferelden iconography, paintings, and statues that can be understood as Sylaise or non-agressive Andruil, shields, weapons, etc

The most interesting piece found in this part, in my opinion, is this tryptic:

The first panel shows a kneeling man, before a deer-like creature and a werewolf on it. Pretty close to the Dragon's head, one can see a wolf as a companion of the werewolf.

The central panel displays a human, a moment before sinking their sword into a dragon's head. Maybe a Grey Warden allusion of killing the archdemon.

The last panel we see a woman with a baby in her arms, safe in the background, wile a warrior is hitting the werewolf, which is screaming on the ground while two or three wolves [not mabaris] are biting its legs.

Details about Drakon Tower can be found in its related post. Details about the Blood Mage quest in Denerim [here].

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore ]

[ahrorha]

Flame of Winter

Chapter 34

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Solas guided Eirlana back through several eluvians until they came onto another plateau in the crossroads with several eluvians. To her surprise, there was a large gathering of elves here. It looked like this was a base of operation. A table had been set up, and a hooded figure was just giving directions to a group leader, pointing on a map. Another group just came through another eluvian, they clearly had been in battle, but it looked like no one had any significant injuries. She noticed a few healers going around, treating the wounded.

As soon as the elves noticed it was Solas who had joined them, many stopped what they were doing to salute him. They bowed slightly with their arms crossed across their chest as a form of greeting. The hooded figure at the table looked up, and to Eirlana's surprise, she recognised him. It was Abelas. He immediately went towards them but stopped when Solas raised his hand.

“The Viddasala has been dealt with. Proceed as we planned. I will return shortly.” he said.

Then he took Eirlana's hand and guided her towards an eluvian flanked by wolf statues.

Eirlana could feel everyone watching them; most looked at her in curiosity, others were frowning. They were clearly wondering who she was and why Solas, no Fen'Harel, held her by the hand. Seeing all those strangers staring at her made her uneasy, and it made her realise that things would change for her just because Solas was Fen'Harel.

At the eluvian, Solas motioned for her to step through. They emerged onto an arrival square, but this time it was back into Thedas. It was warm and sunny, and they were at the edge of a forest. In front of them was a road that led to a larger town, whose buildings were of elven architecture. This place once had been a ruin, and Eirlana could clearly see where the buildings had been repaired, while others looked completely new. Many people were moving on the road and between the buildings, and she suspected there were all elves. Several defensive positions had been built on the square itself, and warriors in full armor were guarding the eluvians. There was also a makeshift infirmary where the more seriously injured were treated. The guards here reacted the same as the other elves before and greeted him with a slight bow and their arms crossed across their chest.

Not paying attention to anyone, Solas moved on, pulling her with him. He walked towards a magical circle and stepped onto it. Activating it, they teleported away.

They appeared in a great bright open hall, decorated with tapestries and plants. Looking up, she saw several floors above them, connected by stairs and walkways. Several lifts moved up and down, bringing groups of elves to their destination. There were also guards here, as were other elves. They saluted, and some of them watched them curiously. Solas went to one of the lifts that brought them to the top of the building. Then they went up some stairs and through corridors, passing a couple of doors until he stopped at the top door.

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“These are my... No, our chambers. That is if you want.”

He opened the door and let her into his room. At first, she thought they stepped into a small library. The walls were covert with bookcases, its shelves bulging with books and scrolls. There was an armchair and a big desk covered with strange objects, books and a lot of papers. On a smaller table stood a pitcher of wine, several glasses, and a glass jar filled with baked goods. The room was separated by a set of golden embroidered green curtains.

Solas held them open for her to step through. She came into his spacious living quarters. There were a pair of comfortable couches and armchairs, accompanied by a set of low wooden tables. There was also a high table with cushioned chairs. There were another two bookcases filled with books. All of the woodwork was elegantly carved. The floor was polished wood dotted with green-tinted rugs and several furs. Through the high windows, sunlight shone, and a set of windowed doors led to a balcony. Everything had a distinct elven design, from the windows to the carpets' patterns.

Solas pointed towards a door at the other end of the room. “Over there, you can freshen up. And,” he pointed towards another set of curtains, “through there is my sleeping chamber. I am sorry, but I have to leave again. I have still much to do.”

This surprised her somewhat, but she understood. This hadn't been part of his plan. She nodded. “Be careful.”

He wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss against her temple. “I will be back as soon as I can.” Then he turned around and left.

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Eirlana took a deep breath. She couldn't believe that she had somehow convinced Solas to change his mind. Nor could she believe she was here now. She felt strangely nervous now she was alone in his living quarters. Would he return to her, or would he have a change of heart and order some of his men to take her away to whatever place he had prepared for her. Curious, she tentatively moved through the room. She could tell immediately that it was Solas who was living here. Not only was his desk burrowed in books and papers, but there were also several books spread through the room. There were also items of clothing casually discarded over some chairs. She also noticed a few small plates here and there that undoubtedly contained pastries and other sweets at one time.

She huffed a laugh and shook her head, realising that that part of Solas hadn't changed. It was a relief to know that she had seen parts of his true self when they were living together. Looking around, she wondered if it will be difficult for them to be with one another again. She knew it had been a struggle for him to tell her the truth. He really feared that he was going to lose her because of who he was. She only hoped that she got through to him and that he would be honest with her in the future. And share with her whatever his plans were.

His plans...

She went outside onto the balcony. She could see that she was in one of the most prominent buildings of this elven settlement. She had a great view over the town, and it was bigger than she thought. There were many buildings, old and new, with people moving in between. There were sounds of smiths being hard at work, and in the distance, she could see a field where warriors were training. It reminded her of the training fields next to Skyhold, only here they were using magic as well, judging by the flashes of fire and force unleashed. Beyond that was the forest.

Solas was really preparing the elves for what was to come. As great as it was to see elves not living in slums, it made clear to her how different the world could look once the Veil was gone. Though he had said he didn't know for sure what will happen to the humans, he was right that there had to be a reason the humans only arrived after the Veil was formed. Her thoughts went to the cook at Skyhold that turned a blind eye whenever Rosie would take some of the better food for her. She thought of the children she had helped deliver. Dorian, Varric, Cullen, Aveline; who she met in Kirkwall. Would they all suffer?

And what about the elves that didn't want to get involved. They already faced prejudice and discrimination in their daily lives. Wouldn't that only get worse, now the Inquisition knew about Solas and his plans?

A shiver ran down her spine, thinking about all the cruel things that could happen.

And what about her? Was she really okay with choosing Solas' side?... She didn't know. How could one possibly choose between the elves and the rest of the world? But it was a choice she had to make. Or was there a way for everyone to coexist? And what about the Evanuris and the corrupted titan? Could she help to put a stop to them?

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Not having answers to any of those questions, Eirlana walked back inside. Her exhaustion was catching up with her. It was already in the afternoon, and she had been up since early yesterday morning. Looking down at herself, she felt filthy, and her head and bruises hurt. However complicated the situation with Solas, the Veil, and the other things were, she couldn't solve them in a day.

She went to the room Solas had pointed out and stepped into an elaborate bathroom, with a bath provided with magical runes to regulate the water and heat. On a shelf were several soaps and oils, and in a cupboard, she found clean towels. Now she just needed to find a change of clothes.

Her search led her to the sleeping area. She slipped between the other set of curtains and froze. It was a smaller room with the same high windows; in the middle stood a large bed. But that didn't halt her steps. It was the painting that adorned the wall to her right. It was clear that Solas had made it, though it had more detail than the murals he had painted at Skyhold. It depicted a giant wolf lying down. The background was covered in silhouettes of trees. The wolf was asleep or resting with its six yellow eyes half-closed. Next to its head sat an elven maiden dressed in blue robes. Her skin was white, as was her long white hair that fanned out behind her. Several elfroot plants grew around her. One of her hands was outstretched, petting the wolf. The air surrounding them was dotted with golden stars and white snowflakes.

Eirlana gasped. It was her and the Dread wolf. Tears escaped her eyes, realising what this painting meant. She was important to Solas, and he had been thinking of her in the two years they were apart. She also realised how dangerous this was. It showed Solas' vulnerability. She only hoped she could live up to the painting's meaning and be a place of peace and rest for him.

Wiping away her tears, she took in the rest of the room. On the bed were cushions of different sizes, white sheets and a finely woven woollen blanket. At the footboard stood a low bench, covered with several furs. On the ground were also furs. On a low commode next to the bed were even more books. To her left was a large closet and armor stands with several different armors. Opening the closet, she finally found fresh clothes. It was filled with robes, coats and other types of clothing. Picking a clean shirt and a pair of leggings, she returned to the bathroom to take a bath.

As she slipped into Solas clothes after the bath, she was hit by a nostalgic feeling of how she sometimes wore one of his shirts. For a moment, it felt like she was back at Skyhold or Haven, in the room they shared. A part of her wished she was back there, sharing an almost simple life with him. Wondering how her life would be from now on, she went back into the living quarters.

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To Eirlana's surprise, two elven women came through the curtains, chatting with each other.

“Do you know why Lord Fen'Harel has ordered tea? He never drank it before.”

They both were carrying a tray and fell silent when they saw her. She noticed that their eyes went from her towards Solas' sleeping chamber, back to her.

“Hello.” Eirlana smiled at them.

They looked a little uncomfortable, but then one of them made a small curtsy. The other followed her gesture.

“I beg your pardon, Miss. But Lord Fen'Harel has asked us to deliver these.” one of them said; her common had a heavy accent.

“Thank you.” Eirlana looked at the trays. One was loaded with soup, fresh bread, two small pies and a bowl of grapes. The other held a tea set and a plate with a piece of cake.

“That looks lovely. You can set them on the table.”

“Yes, Miss.” They sat them down, and after collecting a few empty plates, they left the room.

Eirlana sighed. Soon everyone would know she was here, and she could already tell that not everyone would be pleased. She could only compare it to some people's attitude to Josephine when she became Ryan's lover.

It made her wonder how this new group of elves was put together. That they saw Solas as their leader was apparent. But it worried her that they were referring to him as Lord Fen'Harel. For these people, he had taken on the mantle of the Lord of Tricksters again. Did they even know his name was Solas?

She also knew Solas' thoughts about the elves living today when he first awoke. Did the other elves woken from uthenera have the same opinions? Also, with the current elves having lived all their lives in the shadows of others, it will be difficult for them to rebuild their self-esteem. She had the same struggles after Solas had freed her. Of course, she had to see it first to confirm it, but she was sure there was an underlying hierarchy at work here. And she wondered if Solas was aware of it.

But that was a worry for later. After having eaten, she took the tea and settled on one of the sofas. Deep in thought, she watched the sun set.

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It was night when Solas finally returned to his quarters. Dealing with the remaining Qunari and securing the eluvians had taken more time than he anticipated. For a moment, he hesitated, knowing Eirlana would be on the other side of the door. Silently he went inside. He lightened some of the candles with a gesture of his hand, bathing the room in soft light. He halted when he saw her sitting on a sofa deep asleep, her head leaning against the sofa's backrest. Her hair was loose, and he noticed a nasty bruise on her forehead. He hadn't seen it before with her covered in the dirt of battle.

It felt unreal to have her here, and his heart skipped a beat when she moved, finding a more comfortable position. Making as little noise as possible, he went past her to take off his armor, but before he disappeared into the bathroom, he grabbed a blanket and draped it over her.

When he had washed and changed his clothes, he carefully sat down next to her. For a while, he just looked at her sleeping. His heart fluttered having her here, but it was also concerning him. Was he making another mistake by allowing her back at his side? Images of the vision the nightmare had shown him slipped through his mind. Would they become true? Would he fail again and ruin the lives of everyone? Would he fail to protect that what was closest to his heart? He shuddered, remembering holding her battered, lyrium infested body.

But as he watched her, he also remembered the fond memories. Although they had spent only a year together, a blink of an eye compared to the ages he had been alive, he had very few memories that he treasured more. In the many lifetimes he lived before he created the Veil, he had not met anyone with who he was this comfortable. Who was seeing and nourishing the essence of his true self. It was both comforting and worrisome that he would find her now after he had committed one of his greatest mistakes. Though he knew creating the Veil had been a necessary evil, it was a mistake non the less.

Looking at her, he didn't know if a future with her was possible. Could she still accept him now she knew who he was and what he had done? But despite his doubts, he also felt hope. Being near her again made him feel alive. Even now, she wanted to hear and listen to what he truly thought. She saw him as Solas, not as Fen'Harel, a mantle that burdened him and replaced all but his name.

As he watched her sleeping, he hoped she would be strong enough to remain that way. Tenderly he brushed his hand over her cheek.

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Disorientated, Eirlana woke up. At first, she didn't know where she was. When she saw Solas sitting next to her, she wondered if she was still in the Fade.

“What?” she asked, drowsy.

“You should have gone to sleep in the bed.” he draped the blanket that had slipped down back around her waist.

She noticed his eyes were lingering on the shirt she wore. Feeling a little bashful, her cheeks flushed.

“Sorry, but my clothes were filthy from the combat.”

“I don't mind. Everything here is free for you to touch and use.” he smiled. “They look better on you anyway.”

He noticed that she shifted nervously. Though they had talked, a lot remained unsaid. He knew he had hurt her, and it would take time for her to feel comfortable being at his side again. Feeling guilty, he took her hand, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of it.

“Vhenan.” he began but fell quiet. It was a habit of him to call her that. Unsure, he looked at her.

She saw him hesitating. She was still angry at him and hadn't forgiven him for leaving her. But at the same time, she wanted to be with him again. Though she didn't know if their relationship could be saved and if she could remain his vhenan. But deep in her heart, she wanted to take this chance. She smiled at him encouragingly.

Solas gave her a small smile back. “Vhenan.” he began again. “I do not want you to feel pressured. I have not brought you here expecting anything from you. What you have learned these past days was a lot to take in. I won't blame you if you decide at any point that you don't want to be involved any longer. I have a place prepared for you where you can live safely. I won't blame you if you want to take another path than the one we both wish for now.”

Her heart beat a little faster. “What do you wish for now?”

His hand caressed her cheek. “At this moment, I wish that we are allowed to love each other again and find a way to stay side by side. For you to remain true to yourself and not hesitate to share your thoughts. I wish to show you how deeply I care for you.” He leaned in and gave her a kiss; it was so soft that it almost wasn't real, just a flutter of his lips against hers. “To treasure every second we are together. To be able to hold and dream with you again.”

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach hearing his words. “I like that.” she smiled at him shyly.

He moved to kiss her again, and this time she kissed him back. Her love for him was a constant hum, resonating deep within her. It made her feel warm and treasured. As the kiss continued, her love rose higher and brighter. But there was also a taste of bitterness. There was sadness and anger, her fears and uncertainty. It tangled with her love. Feeling overwhelmed, she broke away from him.

Solas' heart clenched when he saw the hurt that he had caused. Feeling guilty, he brushed her loose hair behind her ear. “I am sorry that I left you.”

Tears shot into Eirlana's eyes, though she didn't want to cry. Angry, she looked away, willing the tears away.

Solas took her in his arms. Though she was reluctant, she allowed him to pull her closer. The memories of how they held each other in the past overwhelmed her, and she no longer held back her pain and sadness. She buried her face against his shoulder and cried. Stroking her back slowly, he held her.

His warmth and scent enveloped her like a warm blanket. The comfort and safety she felt by being near him was so familiar, and she had missed it for so long. It was too much for her to bear. Clinging on to him, she finally could let go. The hurt, stress and worry she had felt during their time apart flowed out of her. Solas held her firmly. Rocking them soothingly, he leaned his face against her head, whispering a few times, “I am sorry.”

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Slowly Eirlana calmed down. Not letting go of Solas, she leaned into him and rested her head against his shoulder. For a while, they just held each other, drinking in the comfort to be finally together again.

She sighed. “I missed you.”

“And I you, more than I ever could imagine. I never thought I would be able to hold you in my arms again.”

She sat more upright and looked at him. “Why not?”

“I fear that by being close to me, you will endure many hardships. You will have to make decisions no mortal should ever have to. You face many dangers just by being important to me, not to mention the moral perils you will be exposed to by standing next to me. I also thought you wouldn't want to be with me again now you know the truth.”

“Solas, no one could predict what would happen after you created the Veil. It is true that you're actions have impacted every Elvhen that was alive thousands of years ago, but that makes you not responsible for what happened afterwards. The infighting under the elves, the appearance of the humans, the wars that followed, the enslavement of the elven people, the war between Orlais and the Dales. Those are things that have happened and maybe would have happened regardless. I won't deny that you have changed things and that things are far more complicated and on a bigger scale than I ever could imagine, but I know you. You wouldn't have created the Veil if you didn't think it was necessary.”

He didn't say anything. A part of him could understand her reasoning, but that didn't lessen his guilt. He was responsible that the elves were mortal, and their magic was all but gone. It was his fault that they were weakened and couldn't defend themselves against the humans. He was at fault that the entire elven race could be enslaved. She was right that he hadn't created the Veil without reason, but that didn't mean he wasn't responsible for what happened after.

“You don't believe me.”

Solas startled and looked at her. “I...No, the state of the elves living today is a direct consequence of my actions.”

“But...” She shook her head, knowing there was nothing she could say that would convince him otherwise. “I don't blame you.”

He studied her.

“I don't blame you for my slave life. My mother chose to sell me, and my former master decided to experiment on me. The bandits that used me afterwards, these are all things that you couldn't have prevented. You may have changed the elves, but the choices of thousands and thousands of people for thousands of years led to the state of the world as it is today. You are not that important that you are to blame for all of our lives.”

Huffing a laugh, Solas embraced her tightly. There were few who knew him that would reprimand him, and he loved her all the more for it. Maybe it was for the better that she was back at his side. It didn't lessen the guilt and the responsibility he carried, but somehow his burden felt not as overwhelming as before.

“I love you.” he said and tentatively started to kiss her.

.

They both felt the need to reconnect, to reaffirm their love for each other. As they kissed, their bodies began to move, feeling the need to touch, caress, and embrace. Their kissing turned more firmly and intenser as their passion ignited.

Eirlana teeth pulled on Solas underlip. He groaned, and his hand pulled her closer. Fluently, she moved in unison and flung her leg around him, sitting down on his lap. Straightening her back, she leaned forward, forcing his head backwards against the sofa. At this angle, she could domineer him. Her hand slipped under his shirt, and their tongues glided against each other, lost in a fiery dance.

As their bodies moved, she felt his arousal grow under her, and it set her own aflame. Their kisses turned hotter and wetter. Solas' hands slipped under her shirt as well. He shuddered, feeling her skin again. He could feel goosebumps erupt under his fingertips, and she let out a nervous laugh. Locking eyes with him, Eirlana rolled her hips against his erection, coaxing a deep groan from him. His hands went automatically to her ass, and he pulled her core against him.

“Solasss.” she gasped close to his ear and bit playfully down on his eartip.

Hearing Eirlana gasp his name and feeling her lips around his ear made something snap within Solas. Holding her firmly, he stood up. She yelped in surprise and locked her legs and arms around him. Laughing, she held on to him as he began to walk. Not wanting to miss a moment apart, his lips found hers again, and he carried her towards the bed. Using magic, he parted the curtains and lit the candles in his bedroom. Still kissing, he sat her down, and they both began to pull at each other's clothes. They both needed this. They needed to feel, to touch, to physical express how they felt. To be finally together again.

Somehow they managed to land naked on the bed. They both shivered in delight as their bodies touched. They revelled in feeling each other's skin and warmth. Feverishly their hands moved. At last, they could feel and touch each other again. As Solas rolled onto her, a whimper escaped Eirlana's lips. Her hands glided along his muscular back and broad shoulders.

“Vhenan.” he breathed out as her leg slid along his. His lips mapped out a trail along her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive spots.

Their bodies moved in harmony. They both needed this to be real. Their love and emotions rose higher and brighter with each touch. They kissed and touched each other as if they might be separated again tomorrow. But not now. Now they were together again. Two souls rejoicing and drowning in affection.

Solas mouth and hands explored her body, mapping out new scars and old scars that had faded away with time. Latching onto her breasts, Eirlana gasped and arched her back beautifully. His tongue, lips and teeth circling and stroking her stiff nipples. Her hand grabbed onto his head, encouraging and directing his attention. He switched back and forth between her breast with his mouth while his hands teased and massaged her body. Her hands also danced over him while her body curved and squirmed against his. Each sweep of his tongue and teeth sending pulses of heat through her, evoking gasping sounds and small moans from her. Until it was too much for her to bear.

Driven by need, she pulled his head back up towards her lips. Desperate, she kissed him, and she angled her hips, so her wet core glided along his erection.

“I need you.” she panted as she rolled her hips against him.

This was not the moment for slow lovemaking; their want was too powerful.

Groaning and overwhelmed by his own desire, Solas lined himself up and entered her. He stilled briefly, overpowered by the feeling. They sought out each other's eyes that were dilated and drowning with emotion.

“I love you.” she whispered.

Solas' heart soared, and he kissed her. “And I you.” he said between kisses.

Setting an unhurried pace, they began to move, both wanting to show the other how much they meant to them. Her hands wandered over his back and squeezed ass. While he embraced her, and his lips teased and kissed everything he could reach. As his tongue grazed her ears, he could feel her shudder under him. Slowly their pace grew more intense and faster. They moved as one, giving into their passion.

Solas growled when Eirlana nails left marks on his back. He grabbed her leg and angled it so he could even sink deeper into her, evoking even sweeter moans from her lips. Their bodies were hot and sweaty, and Eirlana laughed when a drop of sweat fell from Solas' nose on hers. It encouraged them both to relax and rejoice, to physically express their love.

.

Solas teeth grazed Eirlana's neck, and when she pulled him closer, he bit her.

“Solas!” she called out when the pain merged with her pleasure.

Angling her hips, she rolled them around, so she was on top of him. For a moment, he slipped out of her, but she quickly grabbed him and sheeted herself back onto him. His head fell back in pleasure, eliciting a deep groan from him. It was like when they were first intimate with each other. He looked at her while she rode him, whipping her tousled hair to one side. She was more beautiful than any desire demon.

He sat up and held onto her, drowning in the sweetest feeling. Smiling, she pushed him back down, increasing her pace. She was in control, taking her pleasure from him, and he was only too happy to be the instrument of her ecstasy. Shuddering in pleasure, his hands wandered over her body, wanting to feel every inch of her skin. To burn in his mind how she looked, how she felt, to worship her as she deserved.

Eirlana's movement stuttered. Gripping her hips, Solas trusted upwards, helping her to keep their rhythm. Overwhelmed, she grabbed his chest and let the feeling wash over her. It was intoxicating, and she let herself lean forward as he kept moving his hips. It was too much, her arms gave out, and she collapsed onto him. Hungrily she devoured his lips.

“Ma lath.” she panted desperately, not knowing if she wanted him to stop or go on.

Sensing her need, he rolled them both over so he was back on top of her. The pace they set could only be described as desperate, her body writhing under his relentless devotion, coiling tighter and tighter. Each movement felt faster, rougher, deeper.

“Ma lath, my love.” he moaned, his voice deep and out of breath.

“Solas!” she screamed as she finally climaxed. Clinging onto him with all her might.

He could feel her release over his whole body; it was like a signal for his own. Uttering a primal groan, he exploded inside of her. He grabbed her hands and pinned her to the bed, driving his release even deeper into her. Their bodies twitched and trembled as their orgasm consumed them like a wildfire.

Solas half collapsed on Eirlana, their bodies entangled in a sweaty mess. They were both panting as they revelled in the aftershocks of their pleasure. Not wanting to let go of her, he rolled on his side, pulling her with him. Breathlessly he kissed her.

“I love you.” he mumbled.

With a lazy, exhausted smile, she kissed him back. “And I you.”

For a while, they both lay there silently, bathing in the afterglow. As their bodies cooled down, she snuggled herself against him. Not wanting to move a muscle, he pulled the sheets over their bodies with his magic. Holding each other, they fell asleep and slipped into the Fade.

.

It was early in the morning when Eirlana awoke. The first thing she saw was Solas lying next to her, still asleep, his arm lying over her hip. When she moved to free herself, he crunched his nose and tried to pull her back against his body.

“Come... sleep.” he mumbled drowsily.

She smiled; he was clearly still half in the Fade. “I will be back.” she spoke softly and kissed his cheek.

As a reaction, he buried his face deeper into the cushions. It was strange to see him so relaxed, and she would have watched him longer, but nature was calling. Grabbing the shirt she had borrowed from him, she hurried to the bathroom.

Washing up, she looked in the mirror and noticed a prominent hickey and several small ones along her neck. It made her blush, remembering her night with Solas. It was maybe not the smartest thing to do. She hadn't forgiven him yet for keeping his identity a secret and for abandoning her. But she also knew how much she wanted last night to happen.

In thought, she stepped outside onto the balcony and stared into the distance, not knowing how her life would look now. Below her, the settlement was awaking. It was strange to be here and much different from what she ever could imagine when she arrived at the Exalted Council. So much had happened. But seeing the activity below her, she knew she didn't want to be anywhere else. She was finally back at Solas side, and she hoped she could help him find a solution to the problems they faced.

Last night having him with her in the Fade was bittersweet. She had called for him in her dreams for so long that now his presence felt almost unreal. They had talked more in the Fade about what they had done and experienced in their time apart. On Solas' request, she showed him the memory of how she met Falon'Din. She had also shown him an image of her teacher, and it confirmed that he was Dirthamen, one of the Evanuris.

What was maybe even more surprising was her encounter with the spirit wolf. It had jumped and barked excitingly around them before it nuzzled its body against her. Solas had laughed and greeted the wolf as Fen'Halani and asked where it had been all this time. Apparently, the spirit wolf was an old companion. He called its brother Fen'Ghilana, and soon the two wolf spirits were yapping and yowling in delight as they were reunited.

Solas explained that the two wolves were his spirit companions in the past. They had helped and accompanied him in many battles. It was one of the reasons he was so tied with wolves and why the Evanuris thought it was funny to call him Fen'Harel. When he awoke from uthenera, he had found Fen'Ghilana, but he couldn't locate Fen'Halani. He had feared the spirit lost after he created the Veil. Eirlana told him how she got in contact with the spirit after picking up a mage staff hidden under one of his statues.

Solas shook his head and mumbled, “Old rascal. After I went in uthenera, he probably sought a place that had a familiar magical signature. I noticed you carrying one of my old staves. He woke up when you took it and activated its magic. And it appears Fen'Halani has become attached to you.”

Eirlana petted the wolf who leaned against her. “But it is your spirit companion.”

He laughed. “Not anymore. You know spirits are no one's possession. They choose their own attachments. I will teach you how to become attuned with him and how you can summon him to fight at your side. I was planning on teaching you regardlessly. By being bonded to me, your magical abilities have changed. You already have tapped into the energy I share with you on your own. But I want to teach you how to fully seek out your potential. It will also ease my worries, knowing you will be able to defend yourself without limitations.”

He brushed the place, where in the waking world, she had a dark bruise from her head injury. Though she had healed most of the damage from Bull's attack, it would take a couple of days for the bruising and discolouration to completely heal.

.

Lost in thought, Eirlana heard a noise coming from inside the room. Puzzled, she walked back inside and listened, but she didn't hear anything. She checked on Solas, but he was still on the bed. It looked like he had fallen back asleep. She couldn't help but smile seeing him lying under the crooked sheets. Though she wanted to join him again, she was halted when her stomach gave a protesting growl. Remembering the jar with baked goods, she went to Solas' desk to steal a couple of them.

Just when she had her hand in the jar, there was a knock, and the door opened. The elf she met when she had trapped Solas with a barrier came into the room.

“We shouldn't enter without permission.” Abelas followed him.

They stopped when they saw Eirlana. She snatched her hand back from the jar and felt like a child who got caught by a parent. In silence, they stared at each other, and Eirlana grew uncomfortable. She felt exposed with only wearing the borrowed shirt and her tousled bed hair. She could practically feel their stares on her body; she felt naked and was aware of the hickeys adorning her neck.

Shivera glared at her. “What is she doing here?” His voice was venomous; clearly, he was displeased with her presence.

Abelas looked more curious at her. “I told you it was unwise to enter without permission.”

Unsure what she should do, Eirlana looked back towards the curtains, wondering if she should wake Solas.

“Tsssss.” hissed Shivera. “A shemlen shouldn't even be here. She can't even understand the language.”

This irked her. She didn't know who the elf was, but he had no reason to be this hostile with her. Ignoring him, she looked at Abelas. “If you are looking for Solas, he is still asleep. Should I wake him?”

“How dare she call Lord Fen'Harel by his chosen name?” Shivera snarled

Abelas looked at her with a hint of wonder in his eyes. He gestured with his hand for Shivera to be quiet. He was intrigued. As long as he knew Solas, he had always had the tendency to be absorbed in his work, often neglecting himself and the need for rest. He was always preparing the next step in his plans, calculating the different outcomes. Nothing Abelas had done the past two years could convince Solas to take care of himself. And now here she was, the woman he had seen in the Temple at Solas' side. The woman over which Solas received personal reports and who was being guarded by their agents. A mortal woman who had spent the night with their leader and could make him rest after their successful campaign against the Qunari.

“Waking him won't be necessary.” Abelas answered. “Lord Fen'Harel can join us at the meeting after he has awoken.”

“I will let him know.” she decided to ignore Shivera's glare and asked Abelas. “How have you been? Has your wound healed?”

“Yes, thank you. You saved my life that day, as well as several of my men who got knocked out by you and Lord Fen'Harel.”

“Glad to hear. I am sorry about what happened to the Temple and the Well.”

“That isn't necessary. Mythal's will has prevailed.” He inclined his head, “Please let Lord Fen'Harel know we have been here.”

Eirlana sighed when the door closed behind them. Sadly she was right that not everyone would be happy with her presence. Though Abelas had been polite, the other elf didn't hide his contempt. Calling her shemlen and suggesting she was unable to speak Elvhen. If he was here with Abelas, he probably was a man of importance, and if he had that opinion about the elves of this age, many of his comrades would think the same.

Taking a muffin from the glass jar, she ate it and went back to Solas. She sat down at his side of the bed and looked at his sleeping face. He looked tired, even in his sleep. The worry about all the things they faced had left its mark on him. Tenderly she brushed his face, wondering if she would be able to help him.

Solas stirred, and without opening his eyes, he pulled her back under the sheets. She let him manoeuvrer her, until she lay on top of him. He opened one eye when he felt she was wearing a shirt. Mumbling something she couldn't understand, he quickly pulled the shirt over her head and threw the offending clothing away. She giggled and let herself be pulled against his warm naked body.

It didn't take long before they engaged in a second round of lovemaking, though this time, they took their time.

.

“So, where do we go from here?” Eirlana asked.

Dressed back in the borrowed shirt, she lounged on the bed and watched Solas getting ready. It was already late in the morning.

“I need to go to a meeting.” He answered while putting on a dark brown legging and foot wrappings. “You are free to do what you want.”

“I think I want to go and explore the town.”

Putting on a grey shirt and a long black jacket with golden embroidery. He checked himself in the mirror before attaching a wolf fur to his right shoulder. “Yes, please do. If you're interested, there is a clinic. I know you won't be able to sit still for long.” he smiled at her. “I will come and find you as soon as I am finished. We still have a lot to discuss.”

There was a knock at the door, and Solas told them to enter. A short while later, Rosie peeked through the curtains and rushed towards Eirlana when she saw her.

“Miss! I am so relieved you are all right.”

“Rosie!”

They gave each other a hug. Then Rosie curtsied stiffly towards Solas. “My Lord.”

He smiled at her. “It is good to see you again. I trust everything has gone well.”

“Yes, we removed everything before anyone noticed something.”

“Good. I hope you are willing to continue serving Eirlana. I can see you two have grown closer.”

“It will be my pleasure, my Lord.”

Solas stepped to Eirlana. “I have to leave. I see you later.” He kissed her and left.

“Come, Miss. I have brought your possessions and breakfast. Let's get you dressed, and in the meantime, you can tell me what happened. The Winter Palace was in a state of alarm when I left.”

.

It was midday when Eirlana took the elevator down and went into the town. It felt strange to walk around on her own without having a templar or someone else watching her. Here she was just an elf among many. Though some noticed her because of her white hair and skin, for once, it wasn't because she wasn't dressed like elves elsewhere. Here most elves were dressed in well-made clothes and armor.

It felt good to see so many elves looking healthy and happy. The town wasn't like any alienage she had been to. The buildings and streets were clean and well maintained. Many allies were decorated with plants and flowers; she also noticed wolf statues and wall paintings depicting elven imagery.

She came to the road leading to the square where she arrived yesterday. She noticed it was crowded. Curious, she stepped closer and discovered they were new arrivals. Whole families came with guides through the several eluvians and were welcomed. Like her, most stared in wonder at the town and everything that was going on. After their identities were checked, some were led into the city, others left again with a guide.

Eirlana realised these people were all here answering Solas' call. They were the people he ordered to be brought to safety. They were his agents and people willing to help. The elves were carrying the few possessions they had, and many had children with them. Her heart ached, knowing that at first, Solas thought them not worthy of being saved. It was chilling to know that if the Veil would disappear, everyone alive would be impacted, and she wondered if Solas was right in his opinion that it would be wiser to remove the Veil like a band-aid.

What would happen if they let the Veil disappear on his own? Solas was right; it had suffered a lot of damage over the ages, and it wouldn't hold forever. What would happen to the people when it happened? How much would the innocent suffer?

Confused, Eirlana walked back into town. She followed a family with two small children that were led by a guide to a building that looked like it contained several residences. She watched as the mother hugged her children in happiness and relief that they were finally here. She could understand their joy as she walked further through the streets. This town was like a well-maintained human settlement and nothing compared to the overcrowded alienages that were often in a state of disrepair. Even if the elves wanted to escape their living circumstances, the humans made it extremely difficult. Governors wouldn't distribute funds to maintain the alienages, and elves couldn't find homeowners who would rent or sell their properties to them. The best an elf could hope for was to find a position as a servant with live-in shared rooms.

It was a stark contrast to the conditions here. This was a town fully equipped with bakeries, small shops, stalls with fruits and vegetables. And everyone was an elf, be it the shop owners or the guards keeping an eye out. It was also noticeable that the elves here looked less weary and less guarded than in the alienages.

A wagon passed her, bringing grain to a warehouse. Next to it, a tame ram was pulling a grindstone, producing flour. Children were happily playing next to a waterway flowing through the town. It looked peaceful, but there were signs that this community was preparing for war. She passed a street where many smiths were forging tools, armoury and weaponry. In workshops, staves, bows and arrows were produced.

As she walked through the outskirts of the town, she saw masons and carpenters working on new buildings. Then she arrived at the training grounds. Eirlana watched a group of mages at work here. It was nice to see them practice without a templar in sight. And it was good to see the confidence in these young mages as they practised their craft. They didn't fear their abilities. After watching them for a while, she went back into the town to look for the clinic Solas had mentioned.

She found it quickly after asking for directions. It was a two-storey building with several benches in front of it where people could sit. A sign at the door indicated the visitation times. Inside were even more places where people could wait. There was a row with a dozen beds separated by curtains for privacy. Doors to the left and right led to other parts of the building. Everything looked clean and organised.

A male nurse greeted her as she entered. “Hello. Can I help you?”

“Yes. I am a healer, and I was wondering if you needed some extra hands.”

“Are you one of the new arrivals?”

“Yes.”

“Don't you need some time first? To settle in your new accommodations.”

“Maybe. But if I can get to work, I will sooner feel at home here.”

“As you wish. One moment please.” he walked away and vanished through one of the doors. A short while later, he returned with an elven woman. She was of age, judging by her greying hair.

“I am Alawen. Welcome.” She looked her up and down. “I hear you are looking for work.”

“Yes, I would love to help here.”

“If you have skills, we can certainly use the help. We are expecting many new patients in the coming weeks. Have you worked as a healer before? Judging by your attire, you are not one of the new arrivals from the alienages. And what is your knowledge as a healer? Are you familiar with only herbal remedies, or are you also skilled in wound care or healing magic?”

“I am familiar with all kinds of healing methods. I also can perform healing magic. I have worked as a healer within the Inquisition. I was one of their head healers.” Eirlana answered her.

“The Inquisition? Then you must have a lot of experience with combat wounds. Come let's talk in my office, and I give you a tour.”

.

Almost an hour later, they walked outside. Eirlana had the opportunity to chat with Alawen and some of the other healers and nurses. Everyone appeared to be happy or excited to be here. Some nurses whispered to her that she shouldn't worry about living here. That it was safe here, especially for women. Two healers were introduced as being one of the ancient elves. The rest of the clinic looked like any other. There were rooms for supplies, herbs and washing. They had beds for long-term care, short stays and even a maternity ward. They discussed working hours and the possibility of her having a more mobile employment because of her healing magic and experience in the field.

“I am looking forward to working here.” Eirlana said to Alawen.

“We will make your schedule as soon as you have settled in.”

Suddenly there was commotion further down the street. People stopped what they were doing and made way for someone. She saw Solas slowly riding towards the clinic on his hart. He was accompanied by several men also riding on harts or halla.

“Oh my. That is Lord Fen'Harel, who has brought us all together.” Alawen whispered to her excitedly. “He stood beside those who we thought were our gods. I know you just arrived, so you probably haven't heard about everything. But you're in luck to see him on your first day.”

As Solas rode nearer, Eirlana could sense the air of reverence that spread through the small crowd that was gathering. To these people, he was a godlike being who had come to guide them to a better future. She couldn't help but wonder if all these people knew what he was planning. But at the same time, it was joyous to see the elves living here without fear and oppression, and she wondered if this could become a reality for all elves, though the price they had to pay for such a future was a brutal one.

“He is coming this way.” Alawen nudged her, her eyes filled with wonder.

.

Solas smiled when he spotted Eirlana and dismounted. He walked towards her.

“Vhenan. I knew you would be here.” He took her hands and brushed his thumbs over the back of them.

Whispers erupted around them, and she could feel everyone watching. There was no doubt that many rumours would spread through the town today. And judging by Alawen's look, there would be many questions the next time she would be here.

“Are you finished here?” Solas asked her.

“Yes.” She nodded. “Alawen just gave me a tour. It is a beautiful clinic.”

“Thank you for your work Alawen.” He addressed the healer. “Does the clinic have everything you need?”

Alawen curtsied. “Thank you, my Lord. Yes, we are fully stocked.”

Solas nodded and turned his attention back to Eirlana. “I have a surprise for you.”

A loud bellow of a hart sounded from behind his men, and she saw a hart push itself forward, almost knocking some of the men from their mounts. She gasped when she recognised her hart and immediately walked towards it. “Hey, friend. I thought I had lost you.”

Solas smiled, seeing them reunited and joined her.

“I thought he had died during our battle with Corypheus.” She petted the hart that pushed its head against her body, almost toppling her over.

“No. My men found our harts wandering in the mountains after the battle. Sadly I couldn't return your hart to you without raising further suspicion. Come, ride with me. I want to show you something.”

He lifted her onto the hart's back, and they rode out of the town. They passed many elves that stopped to look and waved or greeted Solas as they rode by. They went into the forest until they arrived at a steep hill with a watchtower overseeing the whole valley.

.

Solas gestured for his men to wait, and they climbed the tower. After dismissing the guards who were on the lookout, they stared over the valley in silence.

“What do you think?” he asked after a while.

“It is hard to believe you have rebuild all of this. Eirlana said. “I expect that this was an elven ruin when you started.”

“Yes. This is a valley deep within the Tirashan forest. There are also other settlements in the Arbor Wilds, far away from the prying eyes of humans and Qunari. We have prepared a place to live for every elf who wants to join our cause.”

She sighed. “It is beautiful to see, but I fear what will happen to those who don't want to be involved. After what you have revealed to Ryan and with me going with you, every elf in Thedas will have a target painted on their back. I can't imagine the Inquisition will trust elves any longer after what happened with us and the Qunari.”

“I know.”

She looked at him. “You want to use that distrust against them. You hope more elves will join you?”

“The more people we have, the better our chances are. As I told you, after my time spent with you and the Inquisition, I want to give the elves the best chance they can get when the Veil disappears. I and my allies have prepared these lands for that purpose. Here they can live safely and be educated and trained in preparation for what is to come.”

“It is wonderful to see how the elves live here in safety and without the fear of human oppression. It is also a joy to see magic being freely used. I wish this could be possible all throughout Thedas. But I fear the costs for that to happen.”

Solas face went sombre. “Sometimes great sacrifices must be made. I know it more than most. Though I wish it wouldn't be necessary but to save the Fade and restore the Elven people, the world as it is now has to change. It will be a brutal transition, but it has to happen nonetheless. There will be no joy in what I have to do.”

“I don't think things will go smoothly. Even when you succeed in removing the Veil, many problems will remain. Things are never that easy.”

“No, they are not, and now I have to deal with even more players of the game. Like Mythal and my former comrades.”

“Not to mention the red lyrium that is spreading.”

He nodded. “And the most basic of challenges of rebuilding the elven community.”

Eirlana huffed a laugh. “I noticed.”

“It is troubling that you picked up on some of the struggles already. You haven't even been here a day.”

“The difference in attitude is familiar.” she nudged him in the waist.

“I try to better my ways.” he smirked. “But yes, it has been challenging to get them to work together on equal grounds. There has been some improvement, but a lot of work has still to be done.”

“Prejudice is hard to erase.”

“True. But there is hope. You have managed to defeat mine. Not a small feat, I can assure you. My name isn't Solas for nothing.” he sighed. “I can't tell you how good it feels to be able to talk to you again. I missed you. And I am grateful you are able to still act normally around me. You have seen how everyone regards me.”

“You are their hero. The one they have regarded as a god for ages.”

“I never claimed god-hood.”

“I know.” Now Eirlana sighed. “By tomorrow, everyone will know that I am your lover. Everyone at the clinic will have so many questions.”

“I am sorry, vhenan. But I can't change who or what I am.”

“I know, and I don't want you to. It is just....”

“What is it.”

“We will never be able to go back to having the life we had with the Inquisition. With you being just Solas and me being just Eirlana.”

Solas looked remorseful. “No. And you are more than a lover. You are my vhenan, my bonded. Though I had not planned for you to be here by my side again.”

“You can't plan everything.”

“Something I learn time and time again.” he laughed. “Vhenan, I have a favour to ask.”

“What is it?”

“I want to assign you a guard.”

Eirlana looked at him, not knowing how to respond. She was finally free of the templars, and now he wanted to have someone watch her again. “What?!”

“Not like the templars.” Solas said quickly. “His name is Himel, and he is part of my security. It would put my mind at ease, knowing you have someone who can aid you when you ever need it. You have already realised what it will mean to stay at my side. He can't protect you from all the dangers. Himel is someone I have trusted with my life during my campaign against the Evanuris. He is a little quiet, but I know you will take a liking to him.”

She let out another sigh. “So if I say no, he will still follow me around regardless.”

Solas gave her a small smile.

“All right. Let me meet him.”

[blarrghe]

@midnightprelude sent me the prompt “Full Moon” for some autumnal vibes like a full-on month ago and this has been floating around in my brain ever since. In my defence, it is still fall and I wrote this during Sukkot so we’re even more on theme. Yes that is why it took me so long and no other reason... Anyway, spent all of yesterday obsessed with this idea and it’s not going away. Incredibly liberal liberties are taken with the nonexistence of Dalish lore and/or holidays. Influenced in part by that one post that said that Thedas’ two moons could orbit in such a way that they’re both full in the sky during Satinalia. ---

“Solas, you coming?” The Inquisitor peered his face into his tent with an expectant smile, rousing his attentions from where they’d settled in the pages of one of Varric’s books. They weren’t much his sort of thing, these tales of simplistic crime-fighting and antagonistic partnership, but sometimes even he needed something easy to read. He tried to find some memory of whatever task he might have already agreed to which could have the Inquisitor tapping at his tent walls at dusk. The days spent cleaning up rifts and wraiths in the aftermath of Orlais’ ill-thought civil war in the Exalted Plains had drained most of his energy. 

“Coming where?” He closed the book and gave the Inquisitor a long, curious look. He seemed bright and wakeful, which shouldn’t have surprised him - he’d been in the field alongside him enough that the Inquisitor’s seemingly boundless energy wasn’t exactly new - but the smile still never failed to confound him. This grey and harsh world shouldn’t have been able to produce such a lively spirit, but not only had it done so, Taren Lavellan was not even the only one. 

“Is he coming, boss?” Solas heard the Iron Bull call out from some distance behind his tent, eager energy in his voice as well. The Qunari was always arranging some kind of rowdy festivity, usually in celebration of some flimsy cause or another. We killed a dragon - hurrah! We took a Keep - hurrah! We closed all the rifts in the southern section of the map - hurrah! It’s raining - hurrah! Solas pursed his lips. 

“Satinalia?” The Inquisitor answered his question like it was something unforgettable that he should have already been excited for, “the full moons?” 

Ah. The holiday was popular in all parts of Thedas, but no doubt the Inquisitor had it in mind to celebrate according to the Dalish custom. He knew of the tradition in an abstract sense; his dreams had shown him pilgrimages of elves up onto high cliffs, dances and prayers offered up in misguided thanks to “creators” who did not deserve them. He sighed, and his displeasure appeared to disappoint the Inquisitor. Solas felt an unwelcome stab of guilt for once again meeting the Inquisitor’s attempts at relating to him like one of his own with refusal. He was a good Dalish elf, despite the Chantry's best efforts, and he had every right to be proud of that, even if he was wrong about all of it. 

“Your traditions are not my own.” He explained apologetically, and he was surprised to see the Inquisitor’s smile return. Then, Taren was laughing - not with cruelty, but with a sort of exasperated disbelief. 

“So?” 

Solas opened his mouth to speak, but found that he had no further protest ready. 

“You don’t have to believe, Solas, holidays are about more than that.” Taren shook his head like a parent correcting a child - how ironic - and left his tent without properly closing the flap, clearly expecting him to follow. Reluctantly, Solas obliged. 

“Where are you climbing to?” He asked as he stepped out into the cool evening. The camp was set up in a valley sheltered between rocky ridges and grassy hills, and fog settled into the crease of it like a blanket. To the east ran a path toward an ancient Elvhen ruin, and if he stayed to dream he would find battles raging bloody through the night. The land still bore the scars which the Chantry had burned into it; buried ruins and desecrated tombs. And it bore scars from even further back than that, in the shapes of the cliffs themselves. 

“Up there.” The Inquisitor pointed due north, toward a distant high hill of misshapen stone. Atop it rested a great and ancient statue; the figure of a lone wolf that seemed to survey the entire valley below. 

Solas chuckled, following the Inquisitor’s gaze up to the effigy of Fen’Harel. “Very well.” He agreed, noticing that along with The Iron Bull, the Inquisitor had apparently recruited Dorian, Varric, and even Sera for the expedition. They stood by, dividing bottles of wine and blankets into packs to carry between them. “Lead the way.”

The Inquisitor did lead, finding footholds with sharp eyes and scampering ahead to scout out the most secure paths as needed. Solas fell to the rear of their line, watching as the Inquisitor’s other elven companion hopped up the rocky cliffs behind him. 

“I’m surprised you agreed to celebrate something Elvhen, Sera.” He remarked, “has our fearless leader inspired you to reconnect with your people, perhaps?” He knew that he hadn’t, and though he was a little curious as to how the Inquisitor had managed to convince the disrespectful rogue to participate, mostly he just knew that the comment would annoy her in a way that might prove amusing. 

“Shut up, it’s not even elfy.” Sera didn’t miss a beat, snapping back with crass annoyance. “Everyone does Satinalia.” 

“But the pilgrimage to a high cliff at moonrise, that is most certainly elfy.” He replied, pressing her on cooly. 

“Hey, we all do it in our own way. No harm in trying something new.” Varric, always trying to keep the peace. Or maybe he was simply reassuring himself, the trek upwards did have him panting already. 

“Right,” Sera cut in, “and my way is: you drink until the moons blur into one.” She thumped the pack on her back with a grin. 

Solas sighed, and continued walking. 

The statue of Fen’Harel seemed so much larger up close. The Inquisitor settled himself down at the great wolf’s feet, leaning his back against one large toe of the Dread Wolf’s left paw, and began removing blankets and other supplies from his own pack. He unstrapped a bundle of thin branches from where they’d been fastened to the underside of his pack and with Dorian’s help began assembling a small fire. Solas laid his own supplies down nearby, and walked a few paces out to the very edge of the cliff, turning his face toward the shining full moons. 

Once a year, both of Thedas’ moons rise in the sky together, two full round circles of light, filling the sky and diminishing the light of any star that dares shine alongside them. Every culture across the world has devised some way to honour them, and always the holiday is associated with tricks and devilry, but also raucous behaviour and celebration. He had seen in dreams the festivals of ancient Tevinter, where the god of chaos was worshipped with the rising moons, and the celebrations in Antiva that set the whole city alight in lanterns while masked revellers danced wild in the streets. Dalish elves take to high cliffs, singing loud and howling songs up toward the heavens, and dancing round their fires. 

Dark had fallen as they climbed, night spreading over the valley on cool winds through the dry grasses. Moonlight shone through the fog brought in by the wide river that snaked through the planes, so that the ground below appeared even further away than it was; as if they’d climbed all the way to the heavens, leaving the valley under clouds. Above, the two bright moons had filled the sky, hanging before the eyes of the great wolf like distant jewels. They looked, every year, like they might in their paths across the sky collide and bring down ruin and destruction upon all things, but they never did. 

Suddenly, a loud howl broke the peace of the quiet night, and Inquisitor Taren Lavellan was standing next to him, one foot up on an outcropping of rock, his face high and his neck arched back, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the sound. Solas nearly jumped, and the Inquisitor finished his howl by dropping his hands away from his mouth and grinning, turning to watch Solas’ stunned face with laughter creasing at the corners of his eyes. 

“You know, I always sort of liked Fen’Harel.” Solas looked into the Inquisitor’s eyes searchingly and swallowed with dry uncertainty, surely the Inquisitor was not testing him. “Not to emulate, of course, but I mean as a story.” 

“You like the story of your people’s betrayal?” 

The Inquisitor mostly ignored his question, opting to explain his clan’s customs in observance of the holiday as an answer instead. 

“The songs we sing for the moons, do you know them?” 

Solas shook his head. He had seen the dances and the singing in dreams, made out the names of the tyrants that this world’s elves honoured without sense, and turned his face away. He had studied enough of the Dalish lore to understand how they had fallen into such folly, but to watch them cry out in joy and worship for all that he had fought against, year after year, was too much to bear. 

“On Satinalia, we sing for Fen’Harel.” Taren continued, and Solas turned his attention from the lights in the sky back to the Inquisitor’s smiling face in shock, “it’s the only holiday that honours him.” 

“Honours him for what?” He couldn’t help but to be curious. Fen’Harel was an outcast figure in Dalish lore, a trickster and a fiend, depicted as being entirely without honour. 

Taren shrugged, “for all his mistakes, he was still one of the Creators.” He explained, “we sing a lament - literally speaking, it asks him back.” 

“It...what?” 

Taren sighed. “Well it’s symbolic, really. We don’t really pray for Fen’Harel to return, it's for those who leave, whether they are taken or led astray. A hope that they find the People again.” 

“That doesn’t explain what there is to like about Fen’Harel.” Solas replied, shaking his head over the explanation. “Is it not a Keeper’s job to protect the clan from the influence of the Dread Wolf?” 

The Inquisitor shrugged. “Fen'Harel ma ghilana.” He said, pointing the expression at Solas with a touch of sadness, and Solas chuckled despite himself. 

“The Dread Wolf leads me astray?” 

“It’s what we say when someone has been misled,” Taren began to explain, and Solas cut him off, still smirking. 

“I know.” 

“The story of Fen’Harel, it’s not something to protect people from like a warrior, waiting to be attacked by savage wolves in the night. That’s not what Fen’Harel is.” 

“Oh, then what is Fen’Harel?” He asked, unable to help himself. 

Taren avoided the concept of a straight answer once more, instead answering Solas’ question with one of his own.

“Do you know much about how a wolf pack functions?” He didn’t wait for the answer, “the idea that there’s a head wolf, a leader stronger than the others who determines the direction of the rest of the pack - that’s wrong. A wolf pack is like a Dalish clan.” He explained, “a wolf pack is a family. It works together. The old teach the young, the strong protect the weak, and the pack moves according to patterns as old as the land itself.” Solas nodded along, he knew well that wolves were misunderstood creatures. The Inquisitor continued. “Sometimes, a wolf will go off alone, either because of scarcity or fighting within the pack. But a lone wolf is vulnerable; it’s no way to live. They have to find other packs to survive, or perhaps find what it was they were seeking and return…” Solas listened patiently, watching Taren’s eyes drift toward the shining moons in thought as he spoke. The Inquisitor was a lone wolf in his own right, having left his clan well before the events of the conclave in his own quest for knowledge - Solas had been surprised and impressed to learn that history from him. “So the story of Fen’Harel, it isn’t just about lies and deceit. It’s a reminder of what’s important.” He finished. 

“And what’s that?” 

“Honesty, community.” Taren shrugged, “we protect the clan from Fen’Harel by upholding those things. There will always be evil in the world - that’s what it means, for the Dread Wolf to be incapable of leaving his tricks behind. Every culture has a figure to explain the inevitability of darkness. But there’s a reason he’s represented as a wolf, and not some other creature.” Taren went on, “a lone wolf, vulnerable because he forgets the purpose of his pack.” 

“You think that Fen’Harel is vulnerable?” He felt almost completely stripped away, standing awash in the bright moonlight. 

“We think he is lost.” Taren answered, seeming not to read the full extent of the stunned expression on Solas’ face, “just like any of the People who are left to fend in the world alone.” 

“An interesting interpretation.” Solas furrowed his brow and covered his raw nerves with the facts of what he had seen elsewhere in the world, “though I don’t know that it holds true in every clan.” 

Another shrug. “Of course it doesn’t. But the message is there, and every Dalish storyteller finds it. That’s why we tell the stories. Fen’Harel may be a hopeless figure, but he is hopeless because he is the lone wolf, not the other way around.” He turned to Solas, reaching out an arm to grip his shoulder warmly. “Your mistake is thinking we take to every story so literally, Solas.” 

Solas shook his head, ready to argue back against the Inquisitor’s odd reasoning. He had seen Dalish clans scar their faces like slaves to gods they didn’t understand, and been disrespected and shunned for daring to speak against traditions they followed blindly, when he’d tried. If anything, the Inquisitor - fearsome figure that he was - was closer to him than to the true Dalish he claimed to love. “I’ve certainly never met any Dalish elves who could view the tale of Fen’Harel so favourably.” He said cooly, and the comment left a slight frown over the Inquisitor’s face as it registered.

“And how many clans have you visited, exactly?” Taren pointed the argument back to him, but he didn’t answer. He had seen more clans rise and fall as he slept than Taren could have visited in his travels, no matter how extensive they may have been. 

“So you, First of Clan Lavellan, did not spend your life training to defeat Fen’Harel when he comes to rip the world apart?” He asked, trying to sound lighthearted, but even if the jab was clever, he found no joy in the teasing. 

“No.” Taren shook his head. “Though maybe I should have, if Darkspawn Magisters are real.” He chuckled dryly, “some stories about monsters are true, and some are just symbolism. Some are both. If the Creators were really betrayed by Fen’Harel, then he was a powerful god indeed, and we’ve seen all too well what a lone power bent on destruction can do.” He returned his gaze to the moon. “But the stories depict him as a wolf, and wolves don’t succeed alone.” 

“You’ve thought a lot about this.”

It wasn’t the first time that he’d heard the Inquisitor give unexpected and thoughtful consideration to his own traditions. So much was wrong with what the Dalish passed down through the generations as their history, and yet rather than rejecting it, the Inquisitor continuously surprised him with interpretations that seemed to set it right. 

“I was thinking of writing a book.” Taren admitted sheepishly, and Solas realised that he was looking to him now for approval. 

A book. The studious Inquisitor wished to leave his mark by sharing his loving study of Dalish lore with the world. Interpretations of the scraps left to him in a broken world. Wrong interpretations, Solas reminded himself, though it was becoming harder and harder to convince himself that they were. His heart sank with the secret realisation that he would never get to read them. He nodded approvingly, unable to help himself from returning Taren’s look with a small smile. “Of course you were.” 

Taren returned his attention to the moons and howled once more, the grin spreading back over his face as he did. Behind him, the small fire crackled and his companions laughed. Bull and Sera raised their voices to join his cry, sending wild and yelping howls off into the night. In the distance, a howl was returned, and Solas couldn’t tell if the sound came from real wolves, or the small Dalish clan they had met wandering the valley. 

“You act like a lone wolf, Solas. You spend all this time wandering, seeing all of our history in dreams, and you think you know, but how can you? And… what's the point? Who is it for?" The Inquisitor turned to him with something careful in his gaze, and concern tipped his words. 

Solas frowned. How like him, this impossible Dalish accident, to be concerned about his being alone. "Well, I suppose my knowledge has been useful to you, if knowledge must have a purpose." He contended, and the impossible Dalish accident shook his head.

"And before the Inquisition? After?"

Inquisitor Lavellan, who knew better than most what it meant to be lonely. If only he knew that the lone wolf he saw had no pack to return to in this world. If only he knew what the cost of that return would be. 

“I have never been Dalish. There is no clan to which I wish to return.” He said correctingly, and Taren shook his head at him again. 

 “You could have a place, lethallin.” Taren gave his shoulder another warm squeeze, and Solas’ heart grew heavy with the name that meant friend. 

“In your pack of wolves?” He smirked a little, hiding the spreading guilt with his indignation.

“In my family.” Said the Inquisitor, turning his back on him with one last firm and friendly pat to his arm before he returned to the fire.

If only he knew to whom it was he offered his friendship; what ruin Fen’Harel would bring to his world to escape the loneliness of his own mistakes. 

That night, as the Dread Wolf slept, he had uneasy dreams filled with the sounds of distant howling. 

[bossuary]

Having just finished Tevinter Nights, I have un fucktonne of questions and theories. But, below are a few of the subjects/problems that I can’t stop thinking about.  I’m curious how other people interpret them, or if I’ve missed some critical details, because it seems like there’s some retconning going on.

so, spoiler warnings apply, since i’m about to discuss the Big Doings below the cut.

The most immediately relevant items come from the final story, right? BUT, because of the nature of the characters, I sort of assumed that much of “The Dread Wolf Take You” is a study in unreliable narrators. Can any of the tales be believed after Charter exposes the Bard? Do we move forward assuming the puzzle pieces we’re trying to fit together are the correct ones, or tread carefully on the word of a known liar?

Nothing about the Assassin’s Tale fits the facts we know: 

Meredith’s corpse didn’t actually stay in the middle of the square in uptown Kirkwall. Her remains were taken away to The Black Emporium. (iirc, Varric mentions this in one of the recent comics)

Pieces of her sword (Certainty) were re-forged for Samson to use in service of Corypheus, a sword which eventually passes to the Inquisition.

A shard of the idol continues to exist outside of Meredith’s remains, or her re-forged blade. Depending on worldstates, the shard is either a weapon rune--forged by Sandal and given to Hawke--or it was given to Varric (who then gave it to Bianca to study, I think). 

In the comics, and in a few of the short stories, the fiasco of Fen’Harel’s agent losing the red lyrium “item” is cleverly handled from a lore-continuity perspective. It’s only ever referred to as a “weapon,” which could mean a lot of things, and allows for greater freedom in describing it in later media. Until the Assassin’s Tale, I firmly believed they were talking about Certainty. Now we’re supposed to believe it’s been the magically re-formed Primeval Idol this whole time, freshly revealed (by the equally untrustworthy Mortalitasi) as a go-go-Gadget ritual blade.

So, are the Tales a cheeky narrative lie, or is it all lore retcon? If it’s a retcon... -What ritual could the blade have originally served? -Might it actually be a key, as lots of people have theorized? -Is there really a potion that can melt lyrium? -Does Solas actually have the idol now, or was his entire story a lie to cover the truth that he still hasn’t found it?

Also, uh. . .Can Solas just. . .kill people while they sleep/dream, even dwarves? I mean, he has demonstrated the ability to create a “dreamlike” state for a dwarf Inquisitor. But, this power seems OP, even for him, and narrative reach. Possibly it’s further evidence that nothing in “The Dread Wolf Take You” can be trusted. 1. If the plans for the Fade are already underway, what does this mean for people like Evangeline, Anders, Grandin, and Sigrid, who’re possessed by spirits/demons? It’s possible they’ll be forcibly separated. Those (like Evangeline) who’re only alive because of their spirit, will likely die. Without Justice, Anders might finally succumb to the taint. 

There are probably thousands of people across Rivain and Seheron, and among the Avvar and the Dalish, who’re contentedly hosting spirits. Would these spirits allow their mortal hosts to be harmed by Solas? Or could there be resistance to his plan from the Fade side of things?

Lots of the stories in Tevinter Nights include the theme of outliers breaking ranks from within a seemingly monolithic society: the Ben Hassrath don’t support the Antaam in their campaign, the Venatori and their supporters operate in defiance of Tevinter, the Crows had one of their Talons disrupt a centuries-old pact.

Going forward in the next game, we might see a spirit faction that, for any number of reasons, acts against The Dread Wolf’s plan to sunder the Veil.

2. Why does everyone in this book describe the red lyrium idol as having only two figures, when every depiction of it that we’ve seen clearly shows three? The crowned figure is (if Solas is to be believed) comforting one person, but no mention of the other poor soul, an even more skeletal figure who seems to be missing their left forearm, and is stuck on the other side of the large ring. No love for that dingus, I guess. Very curious.

And no mention of the serpentine shape that surrounds all three of them.

3. The sea is going to be a big part of the next stage of this story. 

-Mythal’s origin has her emerging from the sea. -In “Luck in the Gardens, the 8 Venatori who were tasked with keeping the “formless” monster in its sealed prison each wore a clay amulet depicting a thin four-winged dragon rising above a sea. -“The Horror of Hormak” describes the viscous gray transformation fluid (and the monsters it creates) as stinking of brine. -The Mortalitasi’s Tale includes a reference to The Dread Wolf screaming about the Sea of Dreams. -The Executors appear to be stepping into the action, finally. They are known as ‘those across the sea.’ -Among the murals discovered during Trespasser, there are some that include imagery of flowing water: The Death of a Titan, and  Lifting the Vallaslin -Before ascending to godhood, Ghilain’nain killed all of her creations. . .except the giant monsters in the deepest waters. Lore says “Pride stopped her hand,” which could mean that she spared them because she was too proud of how perfectly-made they were. Or, that an aspect of Pride (as a demon or spirit), convinced her to let them live.

4. I’ve always thought that the painted murals of Trespasser and those completed at Skyhold are actually of a different sort, in a very specific way. Much of the ornamentation, symbology, and iconography that’s used in the various frescoes in Trespasser. . .isn’t found in Skyhold’s frescoes.   My feeling, based on these differences in style, and the uneven quality of the paintings in the Vir’Dirthara, is that the murals in Trespasser have been painted-over. 

-Thanks to Gatsi, we know that the mosaics we worked so hard to complete for the Inquisition were all re-carved by several hands over the ages, making it difficult to get an accurate interpretation from them.

-During “The Horror of Hormak,” Ramesh and Lesha encounter mosaics depicting elven kings and queens, and their subjects. But the mosaics shift and change the longer they stare at them. The scenes transform from a glittering parade of nobility offering succor to their subjects. . .to a death-march of tyrants forcing magical torments on their slaves. 

-In “Genitivi Dies in the End,” our industrious well-traveled Brother is humbled when he discovers an elven tome that depicts the continent of Thedas in superior and, crushingly, more correct detail to anything he’s ever seen. Which means that either the continent has changed dramatically, or all the maps that exist in modernity are based upon a flawed (altered) source.

There’s an established trope of people from all parts of Thedas altering relics in order to change history’s interpretation of them. So, why would the frescoes/murals be any different? I believe that either Solas, or someone loyal to Solas, altered the murals in order to obscure the truth behind them. 

If we believe Philliam, a Bard! (though, again, an unreliable narrator), the Qunari Rasaan disbelieves all of the names attributed to Solas, either by his enemies or himself. As Philliam posits, to know Solas’ true name would be know the best and worst of him, his flaws and weaknesses, and what he’d “failed to be.”

Essentially, I think we’re being misled at every turn. And this leads me to. . .

5. None of the stories in Tevinter Nights expands on the role of dwarves in past and future conflicts. We get lots of new and juicy stuff on Tevinter, Nevarra, mages, elves, the Crows, the Lords of Fortune, even the Qunari. Noticeably and glaringly absent is any mention of dwarves, titans, and how they fit into the unfolding lore.

One of the largest and most influential groups of dwarves in all of Thedas (The Ambassadoria) lives right in the heart of Minrathous. Above ground. Vulnerable to the invading Qunari and Fen’Harel’s agents.

Dwarves are as tellingly absent in this set of stories as dragons were in all the Evanuris revelations.

The one place where those two things intersect. . .is out in the Hissing Wastes, near the Sunstop mountains (which has always sounded to me like the same naming convention as Skyhold).  

Out there, we come across a dwarven thaig, the only thaig to have been built above ground, that pre-dates the first Blight. It’s called Kal Repartha, which means ‘a place where we may meet in peace.’ Paragon Fairel and his sons appear to have built the thaig as a way to escape some huge conflict in the Deep Roads. 

Statues of Mythal’s dragon form are arranged in places of honor outside Fairel’s tomb. As if in protection. 

Fairel was a rune-smith, one of the greatest who ever lived. Mythal might have worked with Fairel toward some common goal, relying on his skills to make devastating weapons, runic keys for hidden places, or repositories of knowledge best kept secret. She might have protected Fairel as a respected friend and ally.

Reaching a little deeper, Mythal may have helped separate the ancient dwarves from the hivemind control of the titans, freeing them to create their own vibrant society, far from the “witless, soulless” existence they lived as drone-like workers. 

(As an interesting aside, Fairel wrote about dragons, proving that dragons, dwarves, and the Evanuris existed at the same time)

It just seems like the root of this unfolding elven lore is the Titans themselves, the life they created in the dwarves and the tangible world, the innate power of their blood, and the knowledge that was stolen from them. Why don’t dwarves feature more heavily in the anthology?

That’s it. That’s my tinfoil haberdashery at the moment. Thoughts? Corrections?

[flamehairedsiren]

Six Sentence S...aturday

So, @mrscullensrutherford tagged me in four different Six Sentence Sundays, so it’s only right that I offer up four different fics for this. The backlog is still going strong. lol

Firstly, a one shot called A Little Taste From Home taken from my modern Alvad world (that will eventually be a multific but enjoy what I have in the meantime lol). This is a little something Trin has been blessedly patient for. You’re a saint, girl. I’m finally gonna get this sucker done:

Still, the thought made her smile to herself. She was giddy. It’s been too long since she last did something for him. Classes were being a bitch and her new manager at work was a dick, but enough of the excuses. She was going to make her man some dinner.

Or at least burn down the apartment building in the process.

This next one is from Perihelion, the brainchild that came into fruition from a unnecessarily long discussion about Roman fertility statues that turned into Carja Fertility Festival (looking specifically at you guys @mythicaitt and @kittleskittle y’all are the WORST):

For all their superstitions and rituals, Aloy could thank the Carja’s festivals for several things: the beautiful clothing the woman in her couldn’t help but adore, the delicious sweets that her belly growled for, and the way her husband craved their joinings. It was like someone had put a vitality potion in his wine during holidays. This time was no different, and it wasn’t simply because of the ritual she would be performing with him. Maybe it was the fact that she would be leaving for the west soon, once Lissie was weaned. Or maybe it was simply because her husband was feeling a bit more lusty lately.

Next one is a slow-going ficlet called Wolf at Your Door I was planning for Halloween but finals took priority and it’s now sitting in my drafts. A Solavellan AU, it’s basically a what-if of Solas actually being a god and my girl Tath asking him to slay her enemies. *evil grin*:

If her wolf friend had been Fen’Harel why didn’t he try to tempt her as the stories spoke of? He could have simply offered a ride only after telling her to do his bidding. She had not been afraid. Not of the big black beast. He was her guardian. She could feel his presence even as they traversed across all of Thedas.

And finally, yet another one shot I’m sitting on for Greedfall called Unwelcome Guests where Daphne de Sardet faces the prospect of an arranged marriage while Kurt and Constantin come up with a diabolical plan to free her from it LOL:

Daphne forced herself into a small curtsy, fighting her fight-or-flight instinct.

“Your Highnesses, a pleasure...” she choked out, her smile more of a grimace. She could practically feel the heat that came from Prince Henri’s eyes. His black eyes bore no soul; only darkness. Her own drifted over to Kurt and then to Constantin, hoping one of them would drag her away from here. All either of them could do was stand where they were and do nothing.

All righty, obviously I have too much on my plate LOL send help. Tagging back @mrscullensrutherford as well as @eri-223 @valaloy @pikapeppa @mythicaitt @kittleskittle @cryptid-jack and some people I’m stalking @obvidalous @schoute and literally anyone else who cares. lol Have fun, lads.

[himluv]

Discoveries

Another Solavellan oneshot! This one takes place a few days after Drowning. Also, just a reminder that, if you’d like to binge all of these stories (there’s WAY more of them than I anticipated), there’s a collection on AO3!

When Riallan asked Solas to come with her to investigate an ancient ruin the Inquisition had discovered, he’d imagined a few crumbling walls, maybe a dank room or two, with barely anything to explore.

He had not imagined she had unearthed Dirthamen’s temple. Like most of the pantheon, Dirthamen had many such places, but this had been his favorite, the jewel in his midnight crown.

Solas had always hated it.

Walking the halls again, though now overgrown and flooded, filled him with an intense dread, the memories of his youth flashing in his mind, relentless.

His trepidation was matched only by Riallan’s excitement. This was her preferred deity after all. In the halls of Dirthamen her usual curiosity transformed into something sharp and unyielding. She paused at every mural, eyes roving the paintings, consuming every detail, desperate to discern the meaning behind each symbol. She was the First of her clan, their destined Keeper of knowledge and lore. It was her passion and it showed.

Even in the dank, dripping, dark of the temple, in a place he hadn’t walked in millennia, Solas was helpless against her charm.

She found the first glyph on the wolf statue, which he’d been surprised to see still stood. He imagined the priests would have defiled it or tore it down after he raised the veil. He was the reason Dirthamen abandoned them, after all.

Riallan held her veilfire torch closer to get a good look and froze.

Solas reached for her, but stopped short of touching her shoulder. He could feel the power, ancient and viscous, slow and slick like oil spilled from a lamp. “Inquisitor?”

She blinked rapidly, her eyes unfocused and wild, then she found him and returned to herself. “I… I understood that. How…?”

He pursed his lips, fighting the frown that tugged at his mouth. “The secrets of this temple have remained unspoken for too long. They wish to be known.” He ignored the crawling terror in his guts. “What did it say?”

Her brow furrowed. “It was a poem, about truths and secrets.” She looked around the room, but it was dark and there was nothing here but trees and sky and water. “There must be more further into the Temple.”

And so they went, exploring every corner of the dilapidated temple. Cassandra commented only when they found the dead explorers.

“I do not like this place,” she said. “It feels malevolent.”

“Whispers wanting, wasting, waiting for the Keeper of Secrets to come once more,” Cole said. He’d been especially quiet as they moved through the temple, and Solas worried that the veil might be too thin here. That the spirit might be vulnerable to the insidious magics that yet lingered.

Dirthamen had never been straightforward, nor one to forgive the merest slight. If there was anyone left in Thedas the elvhen would want to hurt, it would be Solas.

Cassandra sighed. “And now it is even creepier. Thank you, Cole.”

“You’re welcome.”

Riallan had no time for their banter. Torch in hand, she read another glyph, then turned wide eyes on him. “They went mad. Without Dirthamen, the secrets ate at them and they became paranoid. Convinced that their High Priest had betrayed them.” She shook her head. “They dismembered him and cursed his spirit to an eternity in this temple.”

Solas closed his eyes at the words. There had been a time when he’d known Dirthamen’s High Priest. They had never been friendly, since his relationship with Dirthamen had been tense even at the best of times, but knowing the man’s fate after he’d sealed his god away hurt him nonetheless.

She ran a hand through her wet hair, anger replacing confusion on her face. “Dirthamen was supposed to be the God of Secrets, the Keeper of Knowledge. Of learning!” Her eyes shone in the moonlight, “but this wasn’t a library or a school. It was a crypt, where knowledge came to die. They hoarded it to gain power, leverage. They were nothing more than spies!”

Her anger would have surprised him only months ago, but now he understood her a little better. She had chosen her vallaslin because of her love of elvhen lore, because she took her future as Clan Lavellan’s Keeper seriously. She would learn everything the world could teach her, and spread it to her people.

Like so many other things about Elvhenan, the Dalish had misinterpreted the truth. And now her faith was in crisis.

“Every society has great need of spies, lethallan,” he said, trying to soften the blow. There had been a time, when the Evanuris were of one mind, when Dirthamen had been a respected leader of Elvhenan. He helped build education centers, like the Vir Dirthara. Once, too many millennia ago to really count, he had been the God she believed him to be. Before greed and fear corrupted him, just like it did all the others.

She met his gaze, her eyes wondering and so disappointed. This place was not what she had hoped for. He would have told her as much, if he could tell her the truth at all.

“Let’s raise this priest and get it over with,” she said, turning away from him. “I want to put this place behind me.”

She marched ahead, down the grand staircase and into the knee-deep water that had filled Dirthamen’s sanctum. He thought it fitting that Dirthamen’s legacy would drown under the weight of all he’d hoarded.

“Will you tell me why the Inquisitor is so upset?” Cassandra asked once Riallan was far enough ahead of them.

For a moment he had forgotten the Seeker was even there. Of course that conversation would mean little to her. What the Dalish remembered was a vast library of knowledge compared to what the humans knew of the Elvhen.

He tilted his head toward her as they walked in tandem down the stairs. “The vallaslin, her face tattoos, the Dalish bear them to honor their gods. Each Creator has a design, each Dalish must pick a Creator to devote their life to.”

“Ah.” Cassandra frowned. “She has pledged herself to this Dirthamen?” The elvhen name rattled off her tongue, foreign and stilted.

He nodded. “Imagine learning that Andraste had not led a rebellion, but instead helped quash it.”

“That would be…”

“Faith-shattering?”

“Possibly,” she admitted. “I would require time.”

“Yes, and in that time you would be able to read the Chant, speak to your priests, and pray to your god.” He sighed. “Your doctrine was never forgotten, shattered into fragments for you to piece back together. Riallan has only her legends, her Keeper, and herself.”

“I- I think I understand.” She gave him a tiny, flickering smile. “Thank you, Solas.”

“If you’re finished talking about me,” Riallan called from the ritual platform, “I’d like to summon an ancient dead priest now.”

Her anger seeped into her every move. Her voice, her eyes flashing in the magic aura around the Priest’s body parts, the clench of her jaw. He wondered if she wanted to conjure him just so she could take her aggression out on something. Someone, who had once mattered to Dirthamen.

While he did not believe summoning the cursed spirit of the priest was a wise decision, he would not keep her from her vengeance. Especially not one so small as this.

They could handle whatever the High One had become.

He should have expected the Despair Demon. The entire temple reeked of it, and its presence had no doubt aided in its deterioration. As fights went, it was not the most difficult they had encountered, and in the end they perhaps did a service to the priest. He was free of his curse now, his spirit’s energy returned to the Fade.

They made camp a few miles beyond the temple, the fresh air and night sky a sweet relief to the dank and damp they’d spent hours in. Across the fire, Riallan was restless. She sat cross-legged, tearing blades of grass from the dirt with furious fingers.

“Dirth ma, lethallan,” he called. He spoke elvhen in an endeavor to give her privacy from the others, though he knew her grasp of the language was incomplete.

And Cole would understand regardless.

She didn’t look at him. “Tel’nuvena dirth, Solas.”

“Ir abelas, Riallan. Mala dhru’danem. Tel’dan’latha, mala sulevin tel’himem.” In fact, her desire to find the truth of the elvhen people had led her here. The temple was a great discovery, one she would celebrate if it weren’t for her damaged beliefs.

She shook her head. “Banal’dirtha. Elvhen tel’dhrua’em.”

“Ah,” he said. It seemed her crisis of faith had passed. Now she worried that the Dalish would not accept her findings. “Dhru tel’dya himana vindhru.”

She smiled at that, just a little. She had said the same to him when he’d told her it didn’t matter if she wasn’t truly the Herald of Andraste. Belief should not outweigh the truth.

Her anger at the knowledge in Dirthamen’s temple had burned hot and fast, leaving behind not even grudging acceptance. Her god was not what she had come to believe. She couldn’t change that, but that didn’t mean she would stop honoring who she thought he was. She would keep the ideals that had shaped her.

It made him wonder if she would handle all unpleasant revelations with such grace. A dangerous thought indeed.

“You’re right, Solas,” she said. She looked at him, and some of the tension had left her neck and shoulders. “Ma serannas.”

“Sathem, Riallan.”

Watching her in the fading firelight, after walking by her side as she discovered ancient secrets and battled heart-shattering truths, Solas came to a decision. Really, there had never been a doubt, no matter how he knew it must end.

Once they returned to Skyhold, he would take what happiness he could find.

Elvhen translations, based on Project Elvhen:

Dirth ma, lethallan - Talk to me, kin

Tel’nuvena dirth - I don’t want to talk

Ir abelas - I’m sorry

Mala dhru’danem - Your faith is shattered

Tel’dan’latha, mala sulvein tel’himem - Do not weep/mourn, your purpose has not changed

Banal’dirtha - I’ll never speak (of this)

Elvhen tel’dhrua’em - The People will not believe me

Dhru tel’dya himana vindhru - Belief shall not drown the truth (reference to Perseverance)

Ma serannas - My thanks/thank you

Sathem - You’re welcome (informal)

[ebbforeman]

The Court of Fen’Harel

(Just a little something that I started working on to pass the time until DA4. Bioware is seriously killing me with the lack of updates...I’ve had to start new play-throughs to satisfy my needs!!) 

Full Story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24574054

The Court of Fen'Harel

Chp. 1 King of Old & New

It was decided long ago that the place where he would settle would be that of the Elven Ruins from the time of Elvhenan. He would restore what was old in addition to adding some new. It was necessary, he deemed, while molding and shaping all that it would become. He had grown accustomed to certain comforts during his travels and adventures, things he never truly cared for or dwelled on prior to his time among the humans, children of the stone, and the qunari. At first, when he stood on the overgrown path, feeling the breath of wind mix with the will of magic and observing the subtle changes of nature; he realized ironically that he would miss the world he vowed to destroy in order to restore what was lost.

He realized within those brief, calm moments, before he summoned the divine power of the ancient magics to break down the very fabric of the veil, that he in truth would reshape some aspects out of necessity and not selfishness.

The foundation of the world shook and he watched, as promised, as all that had risen in place of the old burned in the chaos. With the flick of his wrist he destroyed the shrine, unbothered by the crumbling of the wolven status or the cracks that webbed along the painted frescos, and in its stead erected a castle to call home. His desire to create a haven for the Elvhen people manifested itself in the shape of the stone fortress nestled in the rocky cliffs just beyond the long bridge.

It wasn't difficult, or at least no more so than reconnecting the eluvians had been. The magic flowed through him like air in his lungs, swiftly, easily, and naturally. His agents across Thedas, under his instruction, knew how to protect themselves. He'd sent scouts long before the veil began to pull against reality. They fanned out across the land with a message and small bundle for each of the elven faction leaders on where to go and how to survive. They gathered like lost sheep in the grey mists of the crossroads, the only place shielded from the uncontrollable madness that raged just beyond the protection of mirrors.

He watched as wild and willful spirits eagerly took to their new home. Much like the elves, they pressed together to learn of the world they once seemed no more than a dream or a reflection of their own reality. New and old magic blended beautifully. He often found himself speechless and surprised by the glimpses of forgotten dreams and dreamers lost to time.

One piece, one small piece of that world he refused to surrender. For a time he foolishly convinced himself that he could. Naive and childish notions of longing and need fueled him, and after a time that need grew and proved stronger than anything he'd ever felt. Go to her, he had commanded Briala, You are a familiar face and will bring a welcomed comfort that I will not be able to give at this time. While Felassan paid with his life for his error and failure, Briala had been more willing to obey. He allowed her to live, knowing or perhaps hoping that doing prove to be useful later. The truth had revealed itself like a glimmering gift. Her role would be to serve, not as a slave, but as a handmaiden. Briala's skills as a spy and assassin in addition to her history with the human empress made her the logical, if not perfect choice for this task.

"What makes you think she will come willingly." She asked, as she stood under the stone arch of what would become his throne room. "Last we met, she and I did not part on the greatest of terms."

He cared little for her doubts and only desired compliance. "She will come. She has a strong heart, and is determined and thoughtful. She will be unable to accept death and she deserves more than the world she was born into." he waved his hand across an eluvian and the glassy surface rippled as if water. "Go by way of Vir Tanadahl. The foliage and trees will shield you and hide your intent, be swift for we are running out of time. You will find her near Skyhold and at the edge of the Frostbacks."

He thought of that day often. It plagued his dreams more so than any of his misgivings and deeds throughout the years. He rose from his bed, moving silently so not to disturb the sleeping form beside him, and crossed the room to the open balcony window. The moon had long since risen casting a bright, pure white glow along the marble railing and tiles that decorated the balcony. He peered beyond the towers and walls of stone to the crystal spires that floated in the distance. He had missed them and it wasn't until now that he knew how much. The marvelous craftsmanship of his people, the wonder and beauty of the infinite potential of the imagination - it was all breathtaking. Imbued with ancient magicks, that were long thought lost and forgotten, he found whispering at the edge of the broken veil searching for an amenable host to pass the knowledge on to. And even now, such knowledge still lingered flittering aimlessly in the world. He alone was up for the task of collecting them all - that and ensuring it was utilized correctly.

He sighed, utterly frustrated. There was still much to be done. This new, old world was still incomplete. The Tevinter Imperium refused to collapse and somehow, either by the use of blood magic or stolen elven artifacts, survived the shattering of the veil. It was a surprising and unforeseen act that would be rectified in due time. He allowed the waterfall below the balcony to cleanse his mind. It was a peaceful sound and absolute peace was something the world was in short supply of - that too would change before his time was done.

The night air swirled around him causing goosebumps to break out across his skin. He stood there, face the dark, naked and his mind restless. "There is so much to be done," he mused, his tone flat. He felt smaller somehow as all of his plan came rushing to him unbidden and all at once. It made him feel oddly vulnerable, something he was not accustomed to. He peered over his shoulder and watched the rise and fall of the sleeping figure's chest and smiled - well, almost not accustomed to.

He turned back, focusing on his duty once more. While he was no god, he was indeed prideful and hotheaded, maybe even cocky in his belief that alone could purge the world of injustice and evil. He shook his head, no, no, that was merely doubt. He was certain of his purpose. Actions and consequences. Cause and Effect. These were the black and white dichotomies of life.

"Solas?" a voice from within the bedchamber called, thick with sleep. "Is something wrong?"

She was up and moving before he could reach her and he cursed himself for being so selfish and causing her undo worry. She shuffled awkwardly toward him, her silver white curling hair spilling across her shoulders like liquid starlight.

"Vhenan," he breathed, wrapping his arms around her. "I am sorry, did I wake you? I did not mean to. You should be resting and enjoying your sleep."

She hummed thoughtfully and inhaled his scent. "Vir sumeil, I could sense something was wrong through our bond."

He smiled down at her, kissed her head and nodded. "Yes, of course. Forgive me, I continue to underestimate your sensitivity to such things."

Her sleeping silks clung to the curves of her body, the fabric so thin and transparent it looked to be flesh. He could feel her full and heavy breast pressed against his chest and the swell of her budding belly touching his own stomach. "You are beautiful."

She laughed softly, the sound so lovely and feminine it seized his heart. "Really? I feel rather like a druffalo, minus the rather intimidating horns."

"Ma vhenan, I could hardly agree with that sentiment, given you are carrying our child within you."

He remembered their time together before, when he led her to the cove near Crestwood and offered to reveal the truth of the vallaslin to her. She had balked at the idea of marking herself as a slave, as he knew he would, but what he was unprepared for was the visceral pain it caused her to know how fragmented her knowledge of her history was. He wanted to tell her then, the truth of his intentions, and lose himself in his love for her, but….

"Yes, our child. Abelas believes I am carrying a girl, though why he would wish that on me…" Her ears flattened slightly at the idea. "I wouldn't know where to begin with a girl."

This time he laughed and brought his lips down to meet her's. Guileless emerald green blinked back at him, dazed and hungry. There was lust hidden within her weary eyes and he felt his manhood swelling and grow stiff the more his hands roamed her body.

"You will be a wonderful mother, Ashalle. Should we have a daughter, I believe she could find nor possess no better mother than you."

"I never knew my own mother, or father. I'm not sure I really know how to care for a child."

"You will take to it naturally, as you do with most things."

She scoffed. "You have more assurance than I do."

"Come, vhenan." he said, offering her his hand. "Let us go back to bed."

She had become his distraction, his weakness. He soon learned after that orchestrated meeting in this very place five years ago, that he would betray himself for her. To be with her. To see her. To smell her scent and feel her warmth. He resolved himself to save her, for a life without her in existence would be hollow and dull in comparison.

And so, Briala brought Ashalle to him. Regrettably a fight had ensued and the now ex-inquisitor refused to be drawn back into any game involving the Dread Wolf. The resistance was inevitable, it was, after all, who she was and what she represented. A hero who rose to stand against evil, a shining light to fight the darkness from swallowing the world whole. Sleep magic was required, something that even Briala, who possessed no innate magical gifts, was able to perform without harming Ashalle.

The slumber was not unlike the one he experienced after banishing the Evanuris into the beyond. It was careful, well practiced and formulated magic, that would retain all that she was but make her more….amenable to his intentions. She woke, confused and frantic and he would never forget the shrill sound of terror when she realized her left arm was fully restored.

Ashalle kissed his neck and pressed herself against the hard mold of his body. She was rather good at distracting him. She ran a hot tongue down his neck and whispered sweet words of love to him as her hand reached for his length.

"You should be sleeping." he moaned, struggling to fight against his own lust.

This was not the first time. He once swore he would never lie with her under false pretenses; however, back then his tenacity, his sheer strength of will and character seemed stronger. The barriers he created as he walled off his heart and the distance he placed between them assisted with alleviating his emotional entanglement to her, if only for a while. Soon, he could no longer bear the thought of being separated from her or her dying by his hands.

"I will sleep after, my love."

He could not keep himself from reaching down between her thighs and exploring the wet folds that lay at the center of them. He pulled his face down to a round supple breast, took the peaked nipple in his mouth and sucked at it. His manhood throbbed with longing, an ache that begged to be satisfied whenever he laid eyes on her.

Ashalle's mouth was sweeter than the deepest dream, than any dream he ever experienced both in and out of the Fade. He plunged himself inside of her, ravenous for her flesh and the sweetness of her. A moan escaped her swollen lips as glittering strands of hair fell in front of her eyes.

"Oh vhenan…"

She was everything that was beautiful in the world. Though the Evanuris hindered his perfect dream, of a life with his love and their child, here and now, in this moment nothing could pull him from her.

Ashalle was honey and sweet cakes, she was the finest wine and warmed spiced rum, she was the very air that filled his lungs and the food that nourished his body. Small shuddering gasps of pleasure echoed throughout the bedchamber and mingled with the stillness of the night.

They both reached their climax, the world exploded before their eyes in swirling shades of color and light. He ran nimble fingers across the tender taut skin of her belly, feeling the warmth and surge of life and magic within, as she lay quietly in his arms. A soft kick, a subtle movement, reached out toward. His child, a kindred spirit filled with old and new magic.

An heir. A queen. And he, now a king. He would rule this world, correcting the actions of those who came before to ensure a brighter, better future than the one the Evanuris sought to create. His child would be born never knowing fear, hardship, or pain. The corrections, so easy and precise, like the blossoming fruit of a tree, would take more time. Dissent within his court needed to be eliminated otherwise the transition could be hindered further. He was nothing if not efficient. It could be done.

Sleep, he thought, for the dawn comes soon and only you are prepared to greet it.

[moontheoretist]

Eluvian Network was divided between each of Elven Gods, including the Forgotten Ones

I am not sure if anybody talked about that before, because I didn't see any theories about that, but maybe I was just not looking well. Anyway, I was playing DAI today and got the cutscene in which Morrigan shows me the Crossroad. I never really looked hard into them before, but this time I was and some idea happened to snap inside my head. Morrigan in this very same cutscene tells us that to enter the eluvian, you need a key and that key can be anything, because each eluvian is different. I was listening to her, but also glancing around maybe first time in my life and noticed that the mirror which she used was marked. 

It is located in the Crossroads, attached to something akin to a pillar. Pillar has 4 sides, on each there is one mirror, but each of them is guarded by different statues. The one which Morrigan used to enter the Crossroads has dragon statues as guards. The one to the right from in-game Inquisitor perspective's eyes (on the screen it's on the player's left) is guarded by Dread Wolf statues. Then on the other side is mirror guarded by Hunter statues, which we can see in various places throughout the game. And the last has howling wolves statues (which I know thanks to Tinfoil Extraordinaire who posted their research about eluvians made thanks to flycam on reddit - here is a link, its’s cool!).

When I noticed that it made me think... like, is it possible that each elven god, each from Evanuris and maybe even other gods, the ones which aren't remembered anymore - The Forgotten Ones, had their own mirror travel network and each network was unlockable by the key connected to that particular elven god? Fen'Harel had access to certain part of eluvian network, Briala had to another one, and then Qunari had to even different one, while Morrigan had access to only a few as she breached in with power and knowledge. I think though that her power and knowledge weren't the only things which let her access the network marked by a dragon statues. I think that her being a daughter of Mythal/Flemeth played a role in it, giving her access by blood, magic and knowledge recognition to some of the dragon eluvians as Morrigan was using Flemeth's grimuar so she had the same knowledge Flemeth/Mythal had, but not the same amount of it, hence why her access was limited to only a few mirrors, not counting the ones, which could be only opened from the outside of the Crossroads.

Most of the eluvians in the Crossroads isn't marked though (probably because as we learned in Tresspasser you can actually see eluvian destination on its surface and it’s probably how elves knew where they’re going), but the fact that the ones on the pillar are can mean that 4 people had access to this certain part of Crossroads (as we know from Tresspasser there may be more of the Crossroads and also different nexus which connects them all, as Wyrd Sisters theorize, probably belonging to June the Ultimate Crafter). But let's believe Morrigan for a second that this place connects ALL eluvians for a second and assume there are other pillars with other statues guarding them nearby. It then means that all gods had access to Crossroads, but the very fact that Fen'Harel's and Mythal's eluvians are placed so close to each other can mean they were in close relationship, which we know they were, hence why I bring that up. 

The Hunter statues though puzzle me. I am not exactly sure, to which elven god they refer, but the only one I can think about now is Andruil, because she was elven goddess of hunting. I may be wrong though, so correct me if you know what hunter statues represent. If they are referring to Andruil though it could be seen as kind of weird, because Andruil doesn't really have cool history with Fen'Harel and Mythal from what we know. But maybe, just maybe this whole story about Void was more personal to Solas and Mythal than to other gods, because their bond had been stronger than the other gods? Maybe the corruption Andruil brought from the Void which plagued her and made her go mad was also part of the reason why Mythal wanted to get rid of the corruption? Not only because it posed a threat to elves in general, but also because Andruil was as close to Mythal as Solas seems to be, maybe? Considering the fact that later Solas imprisoned Evanuris due to the murder of Mythal, may indicate that even if they were close before they didn't stay close forever. I mean assuming that they ever were close. But it may also be just a coincidence that their eluvians were placed so close to each other, and I am just seeing too much here, because of assuming that the way in which eluvians are placed inside the Crossroads was deliberately planned instead of just made on a whim.

Anyway my initial point is that according to my speculation each elven god had their own eluvian network and their own key, which explains why one key can open several eluvians across vast distances like in the cases of Briala and Qunari. I also think there may be more than nine keys, assuming that eluvians were created before Evanuris became the most important gods in elven history and pushed other factions into darkness of history, but I cannot be sure of that, especially considering that most of the eluvians aren't marked with the statues, so I cannot actually count how many keys there should be. If eluvians were created after Evanuris became the most powerful elves, then it would be logical to assume that there are only nine keys, each attached to certain god. But considering what Morrigan says about "each eluvian being different" there may be something like private eluvians for higher class elves and hence more keys even in times of the rule of Evanuris. In the Tresspasser there are some eluvians marked in a way which may be connected either to Evanuris or to The Forgotten Ones (Mysterious Elven Mosaics video made me notice that, because Ghil Dirthalen took into consideration the option that the masks she talks about may be masks which Forgotten Ones wore, which in the case of Eluvians could even mean that the second Crossroads we found in Tresspasser were separated from the other ones and were used by the opposed fraction to Evanuris as traveling network - one of the Eluvians shown in the video has even horns on them, it’s marked after someone). It’s worth mentioning that Morrigan also says that some eluvians were left opened, which explains why Tamlen could interact with eluvian in Brecilian forest and how Merrill managed to use the mirror even though we never heard about any of them having a key to this particular eluvian. Though because I never played Dalish Elf origin there may be also a chance that Tamlen had a key and either knew he has it or didn't realize he has it in the end.

[Here I tried to embed the video titled Tamlen and the Eluvian, but failed.]

Watching the video posted on Wyrd Sisters of Thedas channel makes me wonder about even more things than just eluvian network itself. Underground city filled with darkness. Was Merrill able to reach it, or the fact that this eluvian was destroyed, and she had to repair it changed its destination to Crossroads? We do not know much about what she found on the other side, so it’s possible that repairing eluvian may switch its destination from the city to Crossroads.

By going through reddit I found also two pieces of info which may indicate that some parts of eluvian network are owned by certain gods. Some eluvians, including Merrill’s have halla on them, the symbol of Ghilan’nain.

The screenshot:

And also that Merrill’s mirror can be found in Descent DLC.

We could meet Merrill in Descent if we had a chance, OMG.