#who apparently were agent of fen’harel a long time ago

[like-dogs--shianni]

I’ve seen some Rook concepts who are the Inquisitor’s child or protégé but what about a Rook that is the Inquisitor’s parent? I’m talking a mature hero who had to watch their kid become a religious icon without their consent 10 years ago, and then lead a whole-ass war, only to have the world turn against them and get their arm taken by this Solas guy in the end. Rook as someone who would not even think of getting into new adventures at this point but the thing is, nobody does that to their child and carries on like nothing happened. That person is going to chase the Dread Wolf to the end of the world 👁️

[jackdawyt]

Today I’m continuing my new mini-series paving the road for the anticipated release of the next Dragon Age game. Through these videos, I’ll be delving into very particular honed-in lore and plot threads that are rather telling for the future narrative of Dragon Age.  

Last episode I discussed the blighted mineral known as Red Lyrium as it spreads throughout the land, tainting everything it touches, wreaking havoc on the eco-system of Thedas. However, today we have a subjectively worse rival that already has plans for Thedas and its people.  

A most prideful, hot-headed fool lingers. One who you could consider to be an enemy, friend or lover. But ultimately, and most importantly, he’s a man who in the end is sorry, and believes he’s only doing what he must for the sake of his people. Of course, we talking about Solas and his plans for Thedas.

In order for us to look forward regarding what Solas’ future scheme may entail; we’ve got to recollect everything that has been instrumental in his plan to restore the elvhen kingdom by destroying the Veil.  

“Cry havoc in the moonlight, let the fire of vengeance burn, the cause is clear.” (Solas, DA:I).

Solas comes from a time when everything sang the same. A time before the Veil was created. When the ancient elven kingdom of Arlathan flourished. Elves were seen as immortal, powerful mages that ruled the lands. The most impressive of their kind were the Evanuris, whom the Dalish call "The Creators".

The Creators

“Long ago, there were two clans of gods. The Creators looked after the People. The Forgotten Ones preyed upon us.  And one god who was neither. Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf. He was kin to the Creators, and in the days of old, often helped them with their endless war against the Forgotten Ones.” (Merril, DA2).

The Evanuris “were said to bestow all life's gifts and dole out its punishments” (WoT V.1). The pantheon consisted of nine “gods”:  

Elgar'nan: God of Vengeance

Mythal: the Great Protector

Falon'Din: Friend of the Dead, the Guide

Dirthamen: Keeper of Secrets

Andruil: Goddess of the Hunt

Sylaise: the Hearthkeeper

June: God of the Craft

Ghilan'nain: Mother of the Halla

Fen'Harel: The Dread Wolf

“Fen’Harel was clever. He could walk among both clans of gods without fear, and both believed he was one of them.” (Merril, DA2).

While it’s unclear what exactly happened, the Elven Pantheon declared war on anyone who dare oppose them.  

"It started with a war. War breeds fear. Fear breeds a desire for simplicity. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Chains of command. After the war ended, generals became respected elders, then kings, then finally gods. The Evanuris." (Solas, DA:I).  

Codex entries point to a longing feud with both the Titans and the Forgotten Ones:

“One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking The Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss.” (Codex entry: Elven God Andruil).

"Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!" (Codex entry: Veilfire Runes in the Deep Roads).

Regardless of who or what was defeated, the Evanuris were victorious in their conquest. This triumph was the beginning of the pantheons’ corruption - with their hubris - the Evanuris became a villainous tyranny.

In their lust for power, members of the Evnauris plotted against Mythal and killed her. This act would bring forth the elven kingdoms doom known as “the Betrayal.”

The Betrayal

“You said the elven gods went too far. What did they do that made you move against them?” (Inquisitor).  

“They killed Mythal. She was the best of them. She cared for her people. She protected them. She was a voice of reason. And in their lust for power, they killed her.”

A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment. (Solas).

This chain of events set Solas’ scheme in motion – to avenge Mythal and right the Evanuris’ wrongdoings.  

Solas rebelled against the pantheon, he worked to free slaves bound by vallaslin, granting them sanctuary from their tyrannical masters.

He created the Veil, a magical barrier that separated the foundations of magic that Arlathan was built on. The Veil’s creation brought destruction to the Elvhen, countless marvels reliant on the Fade crumbled, the people lost their immortality and the majority of their magic.  

Then Solas banished each of the Evnauris to the Beyond, where they linger forever in torment.

This was the great quickening that the Dalish elves in Thedas still believe today. The disarrayment and destruction of the elven empire. However, ‘twas not Tevinter, nor the pride of mortal man who destroyed the elves.

A few even claim their ancestors were immortal, and it was only the arrival of humans- "shemlen" or "quicklings” that brought death to the "elvhen" people. (WoT V.1).

It was indeed Solas who destroyed the elvhen world.  

"It was not the arrival of humans that caused us to begin aging. It was me. The Veil took everything from the elves, even themselves.” (Solas, DA:I)

After creating the Veil, Solas fell into a deep slumber.  

"I lay in dark and dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages passed. I woke still weak a year before I joined you." (Solas, DA:I).

Having slept for many years, Solas awoke. He witnessed the transition of his proud and immortal people, now reduced to the fringes of human society.  

Once the greatest empire in Thedas, now a cluster of baboons with a false understanding of their existence. They spread false tales of the Evanuris’ feud, praising the false gods, and condemning Fen’Harel. Wearing vallaslin as worship, without realising their slave mark origin.  

The elves today can’t even speak the same complexities of their old language, while the remains of Arlathan are nothing but a shallow husk, its memory long since gone, along with the majority of magic.  

“My people fell for what I did to strike the Evanuris down, but still some hope remains for restoration. I will save the elven people, even if it means this world must die.”  (Solas, DA:I).

While the blame falls to Solas for the elven people’s decimation, what the Evanuris had planned would’ve destroyed the entire world. Solas believed creating the Veil was the lesser of two evils.  

“Had I not created the Veil the Evanuris would have destroyed the entire world.” (Solas, DA:I).

While Solas woke up still weak, he has plans to restore the elven people to their former glory. Originally, Solas planned to use his orb of destruction to destroy the Veil, re-establishing the world of his time. However, his slumber had made him too weak to unlock the orb, so using his agents, Solas indirectly gave his orb to Corypheus.  

Corypheus, being an ancient and powerful darkspawn would then unlock the orb and die in the resulting explosion. However, that didn’t happen.

Instead, Corypheus uncovered the secrets of effective immortality, and the Inquisitor was the one who gained the orb’s power – the Anchor.  

The Anchor

As a result, Solas joined the Inquisition with the sole purpose of defeating Corypheus and getting his unlocked orb back, so he could resume his plan to destroy the Veil. (which explains why he knew so much about the Anchor in the first place).

Of course, this plan too was unsuccessful because the orb was destroyed by failing rocks with the defeat of Corypheus. However, Solas did not expect to find someone he could relate to, as much as he did with the Inquisitor.  

“You change everything.” (Solas, DA:I).

He cared for this world, and some of the people in it. And that truly surprised him. But that vulnerability is only going to make his plan harder. No matter how much the Inquisitor tried to sway him, Solas walks the journey of death, he would not have anyone close to him see what he will become.  

“I walk the dinan'shiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become.” (Solas, DA:I).

If the Veil is successfully destroyed, the Evanuris (and whatever else lingers in the Beyond) will be released, after suffering years of torment. With their freedom, surely, they’ll unleash havoc on Thedas once again, exacting revenge at the one responsible for their imprisonment.  

"Wouldn't the false gods be free?" (The Inquisitor, DA:I).

"I had plans." (Solas, DA:I).

In order for Solas to grant Mythal vengeance, he will need to silence the Evanuris for good. For this plan, Solas has taken an aspect of Mythal’s power so he can rise as the Dread Wolf.  

The Dread Wolf

With that power now invested, Solas can transform into the Dread Wolf. In this form, the wolf is “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).

Solas as the Dread Wolf has taken residence in the Fade where spirits and demons serve him willingly. He has an enigmatic ritual for the Fade that has been set in motion. Since his orb’s destruction, Solas has been looking at other alternatives for tearing down the Veil.  

“As the Avvar do. But whatever fear the name Dread Wolf carries, he has earned. While we might visit the Fade, it is his natural home, and the spirits there serve him gladly. They whisper in my dreams now, accusing me of crimes I never.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 498).

Currently, Solas hunts the Red Lyrium Idol, which apparently belongs to him, and he has a purpose for it. Other than that, not much else is known about it, not even its location.  

"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).

Solas has always had a network of agents working for him behind the curtains. However, the length of Solas’s spies has greatly increased. Many of the Dalish Elves truly believe in Solas's cause and have joined his fight and even the Ancient Elves have been acquired for his schemes.  

“And now we know that the Dread Wolf has agents working for him.” (The Bard, The Dread Wolf Take You).

The elves who haven’t joined his ranks have begun to call his army - “Fen’Harel cultists”  

Fen’Harel Cultists

“Each one of those damned Fen’Harel cultists. ‘Ooh, if we blow up enough people, ancient Elvhenan is definitely coming back.’” She caught my questioning glance. “They tried to recruit me a few years ago. I said no.” (Half Up Front, page 470)

Solas’ agents, or cultists, whichever takes your liking, already tried to manipulate a war between the Qunari Ben-Hassrath and Tevinter kinsman. An agent of Fen’Harel placed a Tevinter rogue on Qunari lands as a bomb destroyed the Qun’s new darvaarad.

Fortunately, the Ben-Hassrath discovered this plot before it was too late. However, If this plan was successful, it would’ve caused immediate chaos for all of Thedas.

“A Tevinter altus, striking at a Qunari settlement that had yet to enter hostilities? Ben- Hassrath wouldn’t be able to sit the war out anymore. Utter and complete chaos.” I felt nauseous. What I’d almost done, almost been responsible for. (Half Up Front, page 478).

And finally, most recently in a desperate attempt to intercept Thedas’ top spy factions, Solas disguised himself as an Orlesian Bard with a blonde wig and all the trimmings.  

Interception  

An Executor, Carta Assassin, Mortalitasi Mage, Inquisition Spy and, of course, Solas were present.  

He listened as each faction shared their knowledge on the Dread Wolf, before the Executor could speak, Solas killed them. Then he attempted to lie about his knowledge on the Wolf, but was quickly caught out.  

He turned the Mortalitasi and Carta Assassin to stone, and revealed himself to the Inquisition Spy known as Chater.  

Out of his disguise, Solas appeared tired and sad. He knows that many oppose him and that they are not fools. Telling the Inquisitor what he intended to do was a moment of weakness.

“He sighed. “It was a moment of weakness. I told myself that it was because you all deserved to know, to live a few years in peace before my ritual was complete.  Before this world ended.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 506).

He admitted he’s prideful, hot-headed and foolish. Most importantly that he’s sorry for what is to come next.  

“I am prideful, hotheaded, and foolish, and I am doing what I must. When you report back to the Inquisitor . . .” His voice faltered. “Say that I am sorry.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 506).

I’ve already addressed the most apparent plot points that regard Solas’s future scheme like the potential destruction of the Veil and dealing with the Evnauris. But other plot points linger that intertwine with Solas’s plan:

Solas's Ritual

As I already stated, Solas has started a ritual ongoing in the Fade with the help of spirits and demons. It’s a very ambiguous ritual, however, we do know that binding spirits and using blood magic undoes both the work that Solas has planned for the Fade, and the ritual that has been set in motion.  

“And as clear as the Dread Wolf’s anger at what we had done— the Mortalitasi binding spirits he considered his own, the Tevinter mage using forbidden blood magic— was the feeling that we had disrupted his own work.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 498).

Perhaps more of these types of magic is needed to disrupt his ritual? This would make the Mortalitasi and Tevinter Magisters great allies in the coming war.  

The Inquisitor

Solas’ journey in modern day Thedas started with our Inquisitor, surely his journey should end with them too. The Inquisitor swore to either attempt to redeem or stop Solas, this narrative needs to reach its end. Will Solas and the Inquisitor reach a happy climax? Probably not, but that doesn’t mean our Inquisitor will easily give up. The two characters need closure to end their story for good.  

Mythal’s Vengeance  

I feel like I need to reiterate that Solas did not absorb Mythal’s spirt, he only took an aspect of her power before she placed a piece of herself in an eluvian, as she finds her next vessel. This means that whoever drank from the Well of Sorrows are still bound to Mythal, Solas did not possess or absorb her soul, she is still alive.  

All Solas did, with Mythal willing, was absorb an unknown quantity of her power so he could rise as the Dread Wolf and fulfil her bidding to slay the rest of the pantheon. I truly believe Mythal has a greater scheme at play, and Solas has fallen ridicule to her, he’s blind sighted because of the bond they share, but I believe Mythal has darker intentions, and they’ll soon come to play once Solas destroys the Veil.  

So, what does come next for Solas? There are a lot of future topics we’ve touched on, but all I can say is we should expect to see him transform into the most villainous Dread Wolf as he stops anyone who dare intercede with his scheme. Not only that, but he has an army of spirts and demons in the Fade, with his agents on the field in Thedas. The tensions are rising, perhaps soon enough we’ll witness the magic come back, as Solas rises to destroy the Veil. The Evanuris are too going to be out for vengeance, only time will tell if we can save our friend before it’s too late.

[theharellan]

Guess who read The Dread Wolf Take You!

The Assassin’s Tale:

Three agents. First elf is Dalish, second a city elf, third an ancient elf, which is a good demonstration of the diversity of elven experience among the ranks. I’ll be making another post about Solas’ resources and reach later, likely after I’ve finished reading the other stories, as I know I have comments about some of the other stories where agents are involved.

The Dalish elf says he wants to awaken his gods with the idol, indicating that there’s either differing motives for joining Fen’Harel or he was lying, believing that it would allow him to get what he wants sooner. Both are honestly believable possibilities.

Solas (and his agents, whose ranks also likely include other Dreamers) can kill people in their sleep, even dwarves. This isn’t new information, we’ve known it since Feynriel in DA2, although I am surprised dwarves aren’t immune. I wonder if it would work on Surface dwarves and not Orzammar’s, as magic resistance is explicitly lessened when dwarves leave Orzammar. I imagine it would at least be harder. Based on the Bard’s comments I think in this particular instance and the importance of securing the idol, Solas himself was involved in the assassinations of the sleepers.

Dreams also seem to be places people get instructions/orders, which would confirm a headcanon of mine. 

The Mortalitasi’s Tale:

The red lyrium idol is elven, depicting either “two lovers” or “a god mourning her sacrifice.” I should note again that if Mythal/Solas is ever confirmed as romantic I will be going canon divergent on that, but for now it’s still unclear.

The Tevinter mage uses blood sacrifice to get the idol to do its thing, using slaves. Whatever ritual they were doing was interfering with whatever Solas had been doing at the time.

His behaviour in this story reminds me of something he says to the Inquisitor at the start of the game, the first conversation in Haven: “Posturing is necessary.” I’ve long held the headcanon that a lot of Solas’ weight after he became Fen’Harel was a result of deliberately making himself seem scary, what we get in this is a glimpse of the intimidation tactics I think he’s used since Arlathan.

The Mortalitasi thinks he must have bound spirits/demons to accomplish his attack, but this seems unlikely. Solas has his hypocrisies, but Cole notes in Trespasser “he knows how to speak so spirits listen” re: the sanctuary guardians, and it seems more likely the spirits are aiding him freely.

Again, the binding of spirits continues to play a role in Solas’ anger and frustration in the world-- his problems cannot be addressed just by improving the lots of physical elves.

The Bard’s Tale:

I’m rather doubtful of how much of this is true, I do believe he went to Llomerryn and retrieved the idol and that he now has it. Other than that the story is mostly a lot of name drops or references, with everyone from the Warden to Divine Victoria to Xenon to Tallis being referenced.

He describes Solas as touching the idol reverently, clearly it has personal meaning, although given his reaction to the focus breaking it’s probably nice to not find it’s cracked after some human put their hands on it.

I also believe the Ben-Hassrath didn’t listen to his warning at the end of Trespasser, although tbf the vidassala wasn’t in a position to pass the message on.

Addition: Lisa reminded me that the Bard described the idol, and likely has the most accurate interpretation -- “crowned figure who comforted the other” -- again, like the end of Inquisition. This isn’t the first time Solas has had a sad in Mythal’s arms. Why he needed comforting in the scene depicted here is unclear. It could be anything from Mythal’s impending death, to the Veil, to depicting Solas’ feelings after he took physical form at Mythal’s behest.

General Notes:

More wisps being used for really casual things that really could be done by hand, or potentially even just magic by hand, rather than ordering something else to do it for you. From the description of the Mortalitasi putting it away it seems its in the spoon permanently.

First, some notes about The Bard, headcanons included --     ◦ As others have pointed out, Gauche, the name the party is booked under and his alias, means “awkward,” but it also means “left.” It’s a fitting name both because like “Solas” it’s a feeling/state of being, but also the Anchor was on the left hand (and therefore it’s the hand he removes in Trespasser).    ◦ Opal inlays, which were apparently in fashion a few years back according to Vivienne banter.    ◦ Resembles a dragon, again leaning on Mythal imagery.   ◦  My headcanon that Solas knows Orlesian came true (although I also hc it as being limited in DA:I, I think he would have improved it since then).   ◦ His manner and accent were coached by agents, specifically I like to think Adélaïde (found on @ourdawncomes) played a role in that, among others. Miraen (Joly’s OC, found on @ancientimpudence) likely helped with the outfit.

The little tells Charter picks up on kills me, like her noting that his hair toss is clumsy and the lack of tan lines indicating he doesn’t typically wear rings. I guess when you’ve been bald a while you forget how hair works, which as sb who has had a pixie cut for a few years... yeah, it tracks.

He can freeze people without turning them to stone, and can also freeze golems.

Solas literally can’t pretend to like tea so he just doesn’t drink it. Like I think he’s physically incapable of not making The Face.

The second he drops the act he sounds more like as we know him, Charter immediately noting he sounds “tired.” His voice falters, he smiles sadly, and smiles again when Charter points out that he’s hardly one to talk about the Executors being dangerous. Speaking of, he doesn’t like the Executors, and frankly they do seem pretty odd.

What he says to Charter after she asks for her life -- Ar lasa mala -- features in the phrase “ar lasa mala revas” or “you are free/I give you your freedom.” Since “revas” Means freedom, my guess is this just means what he says in Common, “I grant it to you.”

The second thing he does after allowing Charter her life is freeing the spirit/wisp in the stirring stick, a detail for which I owe Mx. Weekes my life.

Charter does more than just see through Solas’ disguise, but the line “perhaps we are not the only ones you lied to” is probably one of the best assessments of Solas’ character in the series. It also indicates that Solas’ motivations for approaching in Trespasser were, in part, a lie-- or rather, I think, not the whole truth. Lines about how he hopes to be proven wrong and his appearance here it reinforces that he has self-sabotaging tendencies for this plan, like he wants to be stopped but won’t, possibly can’t stop, which brings me back to Regret: There might have been a better choice-- a thought it had not been allowed.

His plans may not be as destructive as first assumed, it’s noted Tevinter will likely take the brunt of it, but also he notes “the elves who still remain” may find it better when his work is done. I headcanoned ages ago that Solas doesn’t lie to those he allies with about the consequences of his actions, aka the destruction it’ll cause. He’s honest with the Inquisition and telling them the truth, allowing them to know the truth while lying to those he’s working with would be inviting unnecessary betrayal. Solas saying this to Charter is further evidence that the modern elves working with Solas are well-aware of what’s happening and as a whole not being lied to, although I also wouldn’t be surprised if some joined up with different ideas, as the Dalish elf at the start may have.

That Solas’ next move was the lyrium idol (which is also his? Or Mythal’s) indicates that if there are other foci out there, they can’t be wielded by him. This makes sense given his could explicitly only be wielded by him without killing him, so I imagine if there are others out there they’re specific to that evanuris/whatever mage created them.

That he regrets involving and revealing himself in Trespasser is pretty funny considering Solas showed up here in-person for like. Really minor, personal reasons. Again. Then revealed more of his plans. Again. Did I mention the self-sabotage?

It looks like this Solas was neutral-to-high approval, almost definitely not romanced. “Tell them I’m sorry” is a pretty general message, so for the purposes of roleplay he would say different things to everyone’s Inquisitor.

In conclusion: Solas is a loser but im still trash for him.

[rumraisinregret]

Unhooded chapter 5: Frost

Fenedhis, it was cold this morning.

Abelas brought his clasped hands up to his mouth and breathed into the cavity they made, his hot breath billowing out as steam between his fingers. He stomped in place for just a second to get the blood flowing to his numbed feet as they stood on the hard packed earth of the practice grounds. He was glad he made the decision to wear his gold armor today as they accommodated thicker under clothes.

He would have cast a warming spell over himself, had he not forbade the soldiers sparring before him from doing the same. If this cold snap continued for much longer, he would have to lift that particular restriction.

The weather this far north was usually milder, the past two winters he had spent with Fen’harel had been pleasant enough. A short, but welcome break from the oppressive heat and humidity of the summers that seemed to last far too long. Occasionally it rained, but it never snowed and the streams never froze. But when he woke this morning, there had been a layer of ice on the top of the water in his cistern. He had to break it and warm it before washing.

Now he stood in the pre-dawn light, observing a battalion of recruits demonstrate the skills they had learned these past months, an icy mist curling around their legs with every thrust and block. His lieutenants who roamed between the sets, correcting technique and praising progress, were bundled up with their cloaks wrapped tightly around them.  

He was inspecting the progress of the troops today and assessing the effectiveness of the new training methods they were using. Abelas’ eyes lingered on a petite woman to his right. She had been one of the ones to shy away when he pressed the attack during the first day of training, her arms raised above her head, forfeiting the match herself before he could get a hit in.

Now he watched as she evaded a downward thrust and, gathering a thick smoke around herself, slipped under and around her opponent’s guard to stab him in the back with her wooden training dagger. He saw similar such improvement amongst all one hundred pairs in front of him.

“Good,” he shouted. “Switch.”

Each bout ended and the partners switched who was on the offensive. And the ringing clang of fighting commenced once more.

He had them continue for some time before breaking for breakfast, as the sun slowly rose above the tops of the trees. Despite its brilliance, the warmth it provided was minimal, and did nothing to dispel the lingering chill in the air. He was not looking forward to his shift on watch tonight if this freeze was going to continue.

Even though he was the commander and didn’t answer to anyone but the Dread Wolf himself, he still liked to keep himself in the watch rotation. The perimeter of the camp was under constant guard, and not just because Fen’harel was paranoid. There was and always would be the very real threat of discovery that necessitated that scouts patrolled the outskirts of the camp day and night.

So Abelas took one shift a week. It was the one shift no one else wanted to be on: from dinner to just before sun up on the last night of the week. Most everyone else had that evening off. It was the one time they could relax and goof off, most of them getting drunk on the Embrium flower wine some of them brewed. He had never developed much of a taste for frivolity or cheap alcohol, so instead, he stood watch.

After the Lieutenants dismissed the troops for their morning meal, Abelas returned to his tent to prepare his own food. He had a small cache where he stored ingredients in a magically chilled strongbox and a larger chest for less perishable items. He selected a potato, a handful of white mushrooms, and a small onion and set them on the chopping block by his fire pit.

He had also begun a collection of pots and pans, but he didn’t have much room so his collection had remained limited. He grabbed his skillet and placed it on the grate over the unlit logs.

One of his neighbors built a chicken coop between their tents two springs ago, with several others around the camp following suit. He went and scooped two eggs out from under a broody hen, before returning to start his fire.

He had just called a tongue of flame into his palm when a message runner stopped in front of him.

“Commander, sir!” the man said with a salute.

Abelas glared up from his crouched position. “What is it?” he rumbled before lowering his hand to the kindling.

The man’s brow creased anxiously. “Sorry for bothering you, sir.” He swallowed. “Fen’harel has requested your presence in Command.”

“Very well. Tell him I will be there shortly.”

The man ran off almost before the last word left his lips. They had all learned by then that his temper grew short when he was disturbed with official business while he was seated in front of his fire. And consequently, all of his messages, unless they were urgent, were held until he went back on duty. But what could be more urgent than a summons straight from Fen’harel?

Once the man was out of sight, Abelas dropped his head with a sigh. He would have liked something a bit more involved for breakfast, but it seemed it was not meant to be. So instead, he quickly fried up the eggs and put everything else back.

He was still licking the grease from his lips when he ducked into the Command Tent where the Dread Wolf and Talitha the spy master were waiting for him. They stood on either side of the table with a map spread out and pinned to its surface.  A welcome warmth enveloped him as he passed into the area spell that heated the tent.  

“Thank you for joining us, Commander,” Talitha sneered, her lip curling in derision. “I’m so sorry to have disturbed you.”

Abelas straightened, smoothing his cloak over the front of his armor. “Thank you for waiting for me,” he said, addressing Fen’harel.

The as yet silent elf raised a hand to silence another jab by Talitha. “It is no problem, Abelas,” he replied, “We are not in a rush.”

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Fen’harel began his face impassive, “the spy master was about to give me her report on the results of the investigation into Radavur and Varda Lavellan. I am interested to hear what you have found out in your own investigation.”

Talitha looked confused for just a moment before she turned it into a sly grin. “Ah, so the Commander was tasked with the interrogation, was he? And how did that go?”

“We will come to that,” Fen’harel interjected. “Let us hear the news out of Wycome first.”

Abelas was grateful for the opportunity to gather his thoughts on the matter before making an official statement. Especially since Talitha seemed eager to twist his words today, for whatever reason. The truth was, he found the Lavellan woman to be too much of a distraction, both mentally and physically, that he had quite deliberately pushed the entire matter out of his mind the better to focus on his responsibilities.

Talitha started with a drawn out sigh, as if it was all beneath her. “My agents infiltrated what was left of the Alienage in Wycome. Apparently, having a Dalish Keeper leading the city council has had an impact on the way the humans there view elves. Almost everyone who used to live in the Alienage have integrated into the general population of the city. Along with the Dalish clan, there are so many elves living freely there that our spies went unnoticed.

“It took a while to get close to anyone who knew the blacksmith’s family personally. They kept mostly to themselves. The daughter was something of a black sheep in the clan, so most people avoided them, except for some of the other craftsmen out of necessity.

“Not much was known about his late wife. Decades ago, she was found wandering in the wilderness and stark raving mad by all accounts. The clan took her in which is when the blacksmith met her. Around five years later, the daughter was born, and several years after that, there was another child. Most accounts agree it was another girl child.

“When the clan was still moving from place to place in the Free Marches,” she passed her hand over that part of the map, “there was an attack by humans who felt the elves were encroaching on their territory. Clan Lavellan lost rather a lot of people at that time, including the blacksmith’s wife and apparently their youngest child, although accounts vary about what happened to the child.

“As for any connection with the Inquisitor, not many people remembered Eléntari Lavellan as a child. ‘She spent time around every hearth, as all the children do’ as one of the elders we spoke to put it. The Dalish do not keep very good track of their children and seem to let them run wild with everyone taking a hand in raising them,” Talitha laughed derisively, clearly thinking she would do better, “but her family must have been killed in the same attack as the blacksmith’s wife, because after that, she was taken in by the Keeper and raised to be First.”

Fen’harel glanced sadly to the ground. “She never spoke about her family,” he said, so quietly that Talitha did not hear him, for she continued.

“There was no evidence of any correspondence between the former Inquisitor and anyone in the clan besides the Keeper, who has a habit of then sharing the contents of the letters with the rest of the members. The Dalish in general do not appear to be very good secret keepers amongst themselves.” Here she stopped and consulted her notes.

“In the two months since they’ve entered the camp, the blacksmith and his daughter have been under constant surveillance, as per your orders.” She nodded to the Dread Wolf. “They have not acted suspiciously or tried to send any messages to the outside world. They’ve been genuinely helpful to anyone who asks. And as you know, he has begun making armor and weapons to outfit your growing army. They do not set off any warnings to me,” she concluded.

Fen’harel was silent for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Thank you for your report. You may cease the surveillance on them.” Then he turned to Abelas. “You spoke to them,” he said, “what was your impression?”

The spy master turned to him as well and gave him a smile like a cat that just got into the cream.

Abelas didn’t know what she was up to, but he suspected he wasn’t going to like it when he found out. He tried to ignore it and turned his attention back to their leader, clearing his throat. “I agree with Talitha’s assessment that they are not spies. Much of what they said corroborated the story that your agents brought back from Wycome.” He told them of his conversations with both Radavur and Varda, and expounded on the clan’s treatment of Varda and their reasons for leaving. “I feel that they can be trusted,” he said when he had finished.

Talitha laughed and started speaking again as soon as Abelas stopped. “I don’t know that the Commander can be trusted to be an impartial judge of character in this instance.” Her grin turned wicked as she sidled up to him. “The blacksmith’s daughter is a pretty thing, isn’t she? You seem rather taken with her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abelas said, coldly. He steadfastly did not meet her eyes as they bored into the side of his head.

Fen’harel’s brows rose in surprise and the corners of his mouth quirked up as he studied Abelas’ expression.

“Don’t you?” Talitha continued. “Some of my people saw you flexing your muscles for her a few weeks ago before entering her quarters. They say you were in there for quite some time.”

So that’s what she thought she knew. He was right, he didn’t like it.

“I was in her flet for barely five minutes,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Oh ho! So you admit it,” she crowed, “and that’s saying something about your performance, Commander. Only five minutes, shameful!” She giggled.

Abelas rounded on her, ready to refute her absurd claims, but Fen’harel raised a hand between them. “Stop bickering, you two,” he ordered sharply. “And there is no need to be crude.” He directed the last bit to Talitha.

She ducked her head contritely. “Apologies, Lord Fen’harel,” she mumbled.

“You will not bring it up again.” He pierced her with a glare. “You may leave. I would speak with Abelas alone.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said and fled into the crisp morning air.

When she had left, Fen’Harel resumed his study of Abelas. “Is there any truth to her claims?”

“Of course not,” he said, a little too quickly.

The Dread Wolf raised an eyebrow.

Abelas pressed his mouth into a thin line. This was not the conversation he wanted to have this morning. He exhaled in a heavy sigh and elaborated, “She needed help carrying something and I offered. Nothing happened like what Talitha was implying.”

Fen’harel waved his hand dismissively. “I did not think it had. But that part is none of my business nor is it to what I was referring.”

Abelas creased his brow in confusion. “What then?”

“Are you interested in Varda Lavellan?”

Abelas was going to deny it immediately, but then he hesitated. Why exactly was he so adamant in eluding her around camp this last month? He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again to gather his thoughts. “She,” he swallowed, “she affects me. In a way that I cannot deny is intriguing. But it is most distracting, and I will not let it divert me from my duties. For that reason I have been avoiding her.”

Fen’harel gave him a knowing smile but his eyes held a depth of sorrow that Abelas understood all too well. “Then you are a stronger man than I,” he said simply and turned to look at the map on the table.

“Tarlen?” Abelas asked surprised at the familiarity with which the statement had been delivered.

Fen’harel sighed. “I do wish you would call me Solas, at least when private matters are being discussed.”

Abelas stopped short at that. It wasn’t the first time it had been asked of him, but he hadn’t truly given much thought to the previous request. This particular line of questioning, however, made him reconsider. “Very well.”

“Thank you,” Fen’harel – no, Solas said, still wearing that sad smile. “I will not get into the details of my personal affairs, although we both know of my lapse in restraint regarding another of the Lavellan women. They do seem to have an effect on old soldiers like us, do they not? There would be no harm in a momentary personal diversion, it might even be good for your morale, as long as you do not allow it to keep you from your obligations, of course.”

Abelas smiled grimly, “I do not know if that would be wise. Was there another reason you wanted to speak with me?”

“Returning to the business at hand then,” Solas perused the map again, his fingers skimming over some of the eastern most islands. “Before you arrived, Talitha said word had reached her of the location of an artifact that is vital to my plans. I leave tonight for Llomerynn. And as always, I leave you and the other generals in charge.”

“Yes, of course,” Abelas responded, unsurprised by the suddenness of the unplanned trip. The Dread Wolf rarely stayed with his army for long periods of time, only checking in several times a year. The increased rate that the ancient artifacts were being uncovered, however, necessitated more frequent stays from him. “I will continue the training of the troops and look over the welfare of our people as I always do.”

“I have no doubt in your ability.” And then, strangely, he clapped Abelas on the shoulder. “But at the same time, I both admire and worry about your complete devotion to duty. All of your other Sentinels seem to have found some kind of recreational outlet to aid them in returning to everyday life. Not you.”

Abelas shifted his feet and looked away from those searching eyes. “Are we still speaking of this, Solas?”

Fen’harel, to his credit, had the decency to look apologetic. “It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable. I will not speak of it again. That is all.”

Abelas left the tent with a bow and went about the rest of his day, but he had much more to think over than when it had started.

****************

His shift on watch passed uneventfully. The area of the perimeter that he patrolled, the outskirts of the western side of the camp and the Eluvian clearing, was dark and quiet all night. Except for just after nightfall when the mirror lit up as Fen’harel approached it with a small entourage at his back. Abelas silently watched from just outside the tree line as the Dread Wolf gave the rest of his advisors some last minute instructions before turning to the mirror. The reflected gleam of the Eluvian’s light on Abelas’ armor must have caught his eye because he gave Abelas one final nod, and then stepped through and was gone.  

Abelas went back to his post, sometimes walking the perimeter, sometimes sitting in a tall tree where he could see and hear the entire area. It was peaceful and quiet in the camp after the fires burned low and everyone retired to their tents, something he only got to see in these rare moments.

He spent the time thinking over the conversation in the Command Tent that day. Of course he had found outlets for himself. Ways for him to just be him, alone. But he supposed that because they were solitary activities, no one else would know about them. All they would see was the soldier, the general. And true, the hobbies he had picked up were the quiet sort that old men enjoyed in their twilight years. Not the boisterousness of a man in his prime. He contemplated which way he truly felt. And that turned his mind to the one thing boisterous young men were particularly known for.  

Making the decision to stop avoiding Varda Lavellan was an easy one, he was already putting too much energy into it as it was. Since she could usually be found in the smithy with her father, it was difficult for Abelas to inspect and approve of the new armor being made if he did not go to see it. It would certainly take some of the pressure off of the already taxed messengers if he just went in person.

But he also decided not to encourage the flirtation that kept happening between them. And he absolutely was not going to touch her again, that would destroy all of his efforts and he would have to start back at square one. He was not the kind of man to be ruled by his desires, he assured himself.

He thought of his friend Souren as well. After Souren’s wounds had healed and he was cleared to return to active duty, he and Adhlea had left almost immediately to escort another recruiting party. Abelas was not sure if Souren was serious in his regard for Varda, but being away from her as he was would either diminish his interest or double it. Abelas would be sure to ask him how he felt when he returned.

But that made it sound like Abelas was interested in pursuing something with Varda, which he steadfastly was not, so he pushed the whole matter from his mind. For several minutes. Until the image of her green eyes sparkling with mirth surfaced in his thoughts. And all his assurances to himself flew out the proverbial window.

He told himself he would not seek her out later after he got some sleep, and that lie got him through the rest of his watch.

It grew colder as the night progressed, the freeze growing deeper by the hour. By the time another guard came to relieve him an hour before dawn, he had had to refresh the spell warming his body three times and was growing more perturbed by the strangeness of the weather.

His footsteps crunched quietly in the frost coated grass as he slipped through the still sleeping camp and into his tent. When he emerged again a few moments later into the misty predawn light, he had changed out of his armor into some of the few ordinary clothes he owned. They were woolen and warm, that being all he cared about at the moment. He fastened his fur-lined cloak around his neck again, raised the hood, and with his fishing pole and bucket in hand, made his way south to the stream that flowed just outside camp.

He was not surprised to find his favorite fishing hole was covered in a layer of ice. Hoping the cold water wouldn’t ruin his chances of catching his dinner for that evening, he placed his hand flat on the ice and sent waves of heat out from his palm. Once he had melted a large enough hole, he dropped his line into the water and sat back on a rock, one of many that jutted out at the edge of the stream and made a perfect seat.

He had a free morning as usual after his overnight shift, so he would sit here pulling on energy from the Fade to keep him alert until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. Then he would go get some sleep until one of his lieutenants woke him up at midday to plan troop movements or practice battle strategy or whatever it was going to be today. He’d rather not think of it yet.

He relaxed into his rocky seat and let his mind go blissfully blank for once. He watched the mist swirl around the trees, he watched a fish start to lazily circle his line, and he sat still and thought of nothing. It was beautiful. The light of day began to grow.

And then a twig snapped in the woods on the other side of the stream. And then another one. And another.

He was instantly fully alert, but he remained as still as death. He looked down, moving just his eyes, and saw that the fish had swam away. The sharp snaps continued steadily as they drew nearer. He waited with baited breath to see who or what was coming toward him in the icy fog. It was either something large or someone wholly unfamiliar in woodcraft, probably human or Qunari; no elf would make that much racket walking through a forest. He had no weapons on him. Where was the scout patrolling this section of the perimeter?

A figure appeared under the hanging branches of the willow tree across from him, still obscured by the mist. They were slight, no horns, and had a large bundle strapped to their back. He watched in confusion as they took a swaying willow branch in hand, reached up as high as they could, and broke it off with a snap. They continued in this fashion moving closer to him all the while, until he could make out a hint of bright red hair swaying around curving hips, and he relaxed.

It was Varda Lavellan, collecting willow and reed and vine in the tall basket on her back. They stuck out like crude arrows in an ungainly quiver. She hadn’t seen him, she seemed completely oblivious to anything other than her task, so he continued to watch her inconspicuously.

The chilled breeze brought rosy color to her nose and high cheeks, nearly concealing her freckles and making a stark contrast with her otherwise pale complexion. Her jade eyes were bright, focused on her work. Her slender fingers were deft and sure as they measured the perfect length at which to break the switches. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He shifted, just enough to catch her attention, trying not to startle her. He miscalculated. She swiveled to face him with a loud gasp, her hands flying to cover her mouth. When she recognized him, she let out her breath in a relieved puff of steam, placing a palm over her heart. “Abelas, you startled me.” Her voice was the barest sigh of a whisper.

“You should pay better attention to your surroundings,” he scolded. “I could have killed you.” Her eyes widened in shock at that. “Had I been so inclined,” he amended. “Or I could have been an enemy.”

Her expression grew serious and her eyes shifted back to the branches in front of her. “Yes, of course,” she said, still quiet, “of course, you’re right. I’ve grown to feel safe here, that I forget we are at war.”

“Not yet and not here,” he said soberly.

She raised her eyes to his again. “Let’s hope not.” She snapped off another branch. “What are you doing out so early?”

“Fishing, but you scared all the fish away.”

“Oh I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, but when she saw the upturn of his lips she relaxed and returned the smile. She considered the weight of the burden on her back. “I’m collecting basket-making materials. It’s easiest to break them off when it’s cold like this, so I thought I would take advantage while it lasts. But I suppose I have enough. I’ll leave you alone to get back to it.” She turned to head back to her grove, which he only just realized was a stone’s throw to his left.

He did not have much time to lament her going. She quickly reconsidered, perhaps feeling his eyes on the back of her head because she turned back before she got too far. She walked up to the rock he sat on, meeting his gaze. “May I join you? I promise not to scare anymore fish.”

He shrugged noncommittally and watched as she searched the area beside his rock for a place to sit. She found another rock a little back from the edge of the stream to be acceptable. When she was comfortable, she removed the basket from her back and, producing a knife from her belt, began stripping the bark from the willow switches.

They sat in silence for some time, the only sound between them the quick slices of her blade and the gentle ripping of bark. He went back to watching his line and saw that the fish had returned. Now he just had to see if it would bite.

Varda waited until he reeled it in and put it in the bucket at his feet before she spoke again. “I wanted to apologize for the last time we spoke,” she started, keeping her eyes on her fingers. “My mouth has a tendency to get me into trouble. What I said was inappropriate. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You did not make me uncomfortable. Think nothing of it.” Which was true. The only thing he had felt at her suggestion that dinner would earn him time in her bed had been want. Intense and demanding want.

Talking to her father after she had put him in such a state had made him uncomfortable, but that was not her fault. And she certainly did not need to know about it.

“Okay, good,” she responded, not meeting his eyes. “I thought that since you seemed to be avoiding me that you were angry with me.”

So she had noticed. He shook his head, smoothing his brow and making sure his expression gave nothing away. “No, I am not angry and I have not been avoiding you. My duties take up much of my time. I have been training new recruits.” He cast his line again. “But you will be seeing much of me in the coming weeks with the increased production at the smithy. I will need to inspect everything.”

“Oh, that’s good, then,” she said, still pensive. She paused to scrutinize a particularly stubborn patch of bark. Abelas turned his head to watch her. She spun to him suddenly, her eyes widening when she found him looking at her. He did not look away. “Because I’d like for us to be friends,” she declared. She must have lost her nerve then because she added timidly, “If that is agreeable to you.”

He felt a smile rising on his face and he nodded. “I would like that.”

They held each other’s gaze for an extended moment. Until her eyes shifted to the side and she chuckled. “I think you have another bite.”

His attention jumped back to his line and he soon had another fish in the bucket. They both returned to their tasks, but this time the silence between them was comfortable and relaxed. He glanced at her once and found that she had a pleasant grin on her lips and in her eyes. And he couldn’t help but grin too.

He thought about telling her the results of the investigation and that she was cleared of suspicion. He thought about telling her he knew what had happened to her mother. But he decided against it. He felt she might not like him knowing more about her past than what she was ready to tell him.

The sun rose above the horizon. The frost started to melt. He caught one more fish and found that he could not suppress his yawn any longer. She had stripped all of her willow branches by then and was starting to twist them into thick skeins of whicker. She looked up though when she heard him yawn.

“I was on watch all night,” he explained. His eyelids were getting heavier and he was sure he looked fairly haggard. I should head back, he thought, I have caught more than enough for dinner. And then he had to stifle another yawn.

It seemed to signal the end of their break because she began packing all of her materials back into her basket. “You should take better care of yourself,” she said. “Take the time to rest properly.”

He stood, wrapping the line around his pole. “I am fine.” He bent and picked up his bucket of fish.

“I’m sure you are, but you shouldn’t run yourself ragged.” Her brow furrowed and she peered at him piercingly as if she could see all the areas in his life where he had been careless.

She really was worried for him. How strange. He could not remember the last time someone had cause to show any real concern for his wellbeing. His heart welled up at the thought.

She stepped closer to him, holding out a hand, “May I help you carry something?”

He huffed a small chuckle, “Your concern is sweet, but I can manage.”

“If you’re sure.” She looked doubtful but she lowered her hand. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

His gaze grew soft. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”

She smiled with her lips pressed tightly together, as if she wanted to say something more on the matter, but all she did was nod.

“Until later, Varda.”

“Get some sleep, Abelas.”

They turned away at the same time, walking in their separate directions. When he thought it would be safe, he looked back, hoping to watch her discreetly. She was already watching him. Their eyes met across the distance. She waved bashfully. Then she turned and continued on her way.

As he watched her until the trees concealed her from view, he congratulated himself on the success of a strictly platonic, friendly conversation with her. There was no need to be afraid he would act recklessly and try to pursue her.

Who was he kidding? Well, at least he hadn’t touched her.