Lei'lessa Thorne is a disappointment of a Warden. She was raised in Orlais in a tradition of intrigue, lies, and trickery that some would call The Grand Game. Her family's strongest piece in their fight for elven rights. Before she failed, of course, and ended up conscripted to a group she would never belong in.
Until it's time to play a new Game: against the Dread Wolf
An enemy to lovers slow burn we're all wanting. With a slight alternate canon where Solas escapes the Fade early, and ends up tied to Rook regardless as they struggle against the gods.
(The first several chapters are rehashing certain game events but with some extra flavor and added details. Now updating weekly on ao3)
Tags: Dragon Age Lore, Head-Canons Galore, Elvhen Pantheon, Speculation on Elven History, Lovers To Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Yes We Have Both and It's Complicated, Time Skips, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Eventual Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence, Blood and Torture, Torture, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags
Series: Part 2 of The Rise & Fall of Fen'Harel
Summary: While former Inquisitor Lavellan hunts for Solas in 9:49, she is accompanied by a former agent of Fen’Harel. And not just any agent: Felani was his lover for centuries before the world fell. She tells the Inquisitor her story and shares a unique insight into the Dread Wolf’s mind.
There’ll be romance, smut, lore, and lots of elvhen politics.
For those interested, I compiled a recap and bit of worldbuilding:
Recap of Part One – A full summary of all plot beats from "The Rebel's Ascension" for old and new readers
The Ancient World – An overview of the world building from Part One
The Ages of Elvhenan – An overview history of the elven empire as I built it for this series.
Character List – A list of all important canon and original characters in the story (will be updated as the story progresses)
Well the computer ate your ask when I drafted it so I had to redo it. I trusted you for Nyra.
Well since apparently Nyra will never be able to answer Tia’s questions for herself, here we go: a blast to the past. And oh, how so many secrets come to light.
May the Dread Wolf never hear your steps, she was always told. May he never catch your scent.
Well now he would quickly learn to fear hers.
Even after he left the Inquisition quite abruptly, Nyra still occasionally met him in the Fade. Even with the awkwardness that sometimes persisted after their arrangement ended, she missed her old friend. She never told anyone, even Tia. What good would it do? He was gone and didn’t wish to be found. She had tried occasionally on her own, but all her searches failed.
Now she didn’t care where she found him, living or dreaming. She wanted to tear him limb from limb.
“SOLAS!” she screamed, blasting a fireball - one of the few offensive spells she had - at him. He easily deflected it, calm in the face of her rage, but he would not so easily avoid her. “You lying bastard! How could you? We all trusted you! I trusted you!” She abandoned her torrent of fire to instead leap at him and start clawing at whatever she could reach. Of course, he was much stronger than her and trapped in his vice-like grip, she quickly drained herself trying to get free. Eventually, she stopped struggling and his restraining arms became a support to keep her from collapsing to the ground.
“Why?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper over the gentle breeze of spirits passing. Her eyes were dry, but she felt as raw as if she had been weeping for hours. It had been three years since she had felt so grieved, and that hurt mixed with her current pain until Nyra felt like it was too much to bear.
“I had no choice,” he said quietly, stroking her hair.
“Liar,” she whispered. “There’s always a choice.”
“This world was never meant to exist. I must fix my mistake.”
“Is that all we are to you?” Nyra asked, angry again. She pushed against Solas’s chest and he let her lean back enough to look him in the eye, though he did not release her. “Mistakes?”
He didn’t answer.
“So you would destroy everything we’ve worked to save,” she said, eyes dimming. “You would destroy even your friends in an attempt to bring back a time that is better left alone.”
“You told me yourself that you would use the knowledge of the Well to restore the elves. You said you would do whatever it took.”
“That is not the same, and you know it! I only wish for elves to be free and equal to everyone else,” Nyra protested. She would not let him twist her words. “I want for us to live in peace, where my children are not seen as less than anyone else. Why can’t you fight for that instead, Solas?” she pleaded.
He looked pained for a moment, but then his face hardened. “I will not speak further of this tonight. I have already discussed this with Tia, and expect you will try to change my mind with as much tenacity. However, I did not see you tonight in order to argue this.” He held a hand up when she tried to protest. “Our paths did not cross during the Exalted Council, and I missed you.” When he pulled her close at these words, Nyra didn’t try to pull away. When he began to sit, neither one let go, so while she didn’t end up in his lap, her legs rested over his as he kept her close to his side.
Hugging him back, she remembered a time when she had thought herself almost in love with him. However, though they could lie to themselves and each other, in the end his heart was Tia’s and her’s was Cullen and they had mutually agreed that they were much better friends than lovers. But he was one of her closest friends, even when their conversations began to happen less and less often, and she would always love him as fiercely as she did Ismae and Dorian.
“How is everyone?” he asked.
“We’re recovering from the Council,” she said. “Quite a lot happened there. I’ve been busy even before we got back trying to clean up your messes.”
She decided not to mention that Ismae and Tia were now romantically involved. Solas and Ismae held a burning hatred for the other, and Nyra knew it was only for her love of Tia that kept her from hunting Solas down and slitting his throat. She had no interest in piquing him with that information. Let his spies have the misfortune of giving him that news.
“How is Yvaine?” he asked.
Nyra instinctively knew this was the reason why he had come. With how fiercely she and Cullen protected their child, even his spies would have trouble bringing news of how his daughter grew.
“She is fine,” she said, lips thinning into a stern line.
It was common knowledge that Eyan was Solas’s child. However, Nyra had always been much more tight lipped about the identity of her daughter’s father. Everyone had assumed Yvaine was Cullen’s before she gave birth, including Nyra. Only Nyra and Cullen knew the truth afterward. Everyone else eventually came to assume it was some elf scout that Nyra must have had a fling with during the months she and Cullen were not talking. Little did they know that she, feeling quite heartsore at the time, took comfort in a very different pair of arms.
At first it had been just friendship, finding comfort in a kindred spirit, but eventually, with too much wine, it had turned into a mistake that Nyra didn’t try to rectify as quickly as she should have. Her only comfort was that she didn’t know the real story behind the end of Solas’s and Tia’s ended relationship until after she and Cullen had made up.
“Just fine?” he asked, frowning.
Nyra sighed. In the end, their enemy or friend, he was still concerned about his daughter. She shouldn’t feel bitter. She had a much easier time of it than Tia had, and Cullen adored Yvaine. Even though he knew about Solas before she gave birth, it had taken time for him to adjust. But now he loved Yvaine as though he was his own. He frequently paraded her around on his shoulders when he reviewed the troops, and spoke of her with such pride in his eyes.
“She is growing strong. She’s grasped the concept of talking, though she hasn’t quite figured out that she can occasionally pause for breath and let someone else speak.” Nyra chuckled as she remembered leaving Cullen to tuck Yvaine into bed, and how his bedtime story had been slow going as she stopped to question him every other sentence about things that may or may not have been relevant to the tale. “She has your curiosity, but none of your patience.”
He laughed softly. “In time, falon, she shall learn. I was not always as patient as I am now.”
They lapsed into silence, as Nyra began playing with the wolf jaw necklace. She had always been poor at keeping her hands still, which was a good thing as a healer. No healer hands were ever still when there were fools in the world.
“Why couldn’t you come back?” she whispered. “Tia misses you.” Ismae would murder her for even suggesting it, but Nyra knew that Eyan at least deserved to know her father. “We all miss you.”
He smiled wryly. “Not all of you.”
“I didn’t think the opinion of everyone mattered so much to Fen’harel,” she said saucily.
“It doesn’t. But I know when I am not welcome, and your cousin alone would be difficult enough to placate, even without the considerable support she would likely have. Do not worry, falon. We shall see each other again. Perhaps Yvaine will be old enough to join us then.”
“No, Solas,” she said, her voice hardening, though still quiet. “You are my friend and her sire, but unless you are at Skyhold physically, you will never see her. We have made enough mistakes behind everyone’s backs, and I will not bring her further into this. I will not give you access to my daughter’s mind. You gave both of your children up when you left three years ago, and unless you’re willing to come back into their lives permanently, I will not allow you to influence them. You do not deserve that privilege.”
His face grew dark, and for a moment Nyra understood why he had been so feared during Arlethan. Dread Wolf indeed. But the look passed, and he was once again Solas.
“I understand,” he said, “Perhaps one day. But not today.” He took her hands and helped her to her feet.
“You’re leaving.” Hardly a question, simply a personal musing. “It seems you’ve been doing too much of that, my friend.” Quietly, gently, she cupped the side of his face in her hand. “Please at least consider it. For Tia. For your daughters.” For me. I miss my friend.
“Perhaps one day, you will understand,” he said, his hand taking hers and squeezing it before he pulled it from his face.
“And perhaps one day, you will understand why I never will,” she replied. “Goodbye, my friend.”
In a heartbeat, his face was gone and she was awake. Nyra felt her husband’s breath tickle her neck, his snores faint tonight. Good. The lung infection was finally clearing. Carefully, Nyra nudged Cullen’s arm off her. The carpets muffled the sound of her bare feet hitting the floor, as she sneaked to the adjoining room.
Seeing Yvaine’s angelic face, peaceful in sleep, her long, pointed ears twitching as she dreamed, Nyra let out a frustrated huff. Even if Solas said he would leave her alone, it didn’t mean she trusted his word anymore.
Anyone named Fen’Harel had earned the title for good reason. The problem lay in the fact she didn’t have anything but his word to ensure that her daughter stayed free of him.
A strong arm pulled her against a solid, warm chest. She brought her hands up to Cullen’s arm, drawing strength from his steady breath.
“Did I wake you?” she whispered.
“I can always feel you being a nervous mother,” he murmured in her ear, chuckling. “And ever since the Exalted Council ended, you’ve barely left her alone. She’s safe as she ever was.”
“He thinks he’s doing good,” she said. “That he’s helping the elves. And yet he turns his back on his friends; on Eyan, the child that needed him.” They both knew the omission of Yvaine is intentional. She had her father already.
“Perhaps one day he will realize his mistake.”
“And if he doesn’t,” Nyra said, staring at her daughter with fierce love in her heart, “I will not let him win. I will not let him destroy our daughter’s future.”
He was a powerful opponent, she knew. In sparring fights there had been no question of who was the master of offensive magic. However, that was before he risked her daughter’s life. Now, there would be no weakness to her strikes. She would rain down fire and lightning to make Thedas tremble.
The Dread Wolf would learn to fear a mother’s scent.
(A/N: A few weeks back, I did a bunch of minifills for the one paragraph challenge over at the kmeme. Might as well post them here too.)
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#4: An elven child receives a gift from the Inquisitor.
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For the whole Arlathvhen, the child follows them around, full to bursting with questions -- do you really live in a castle, don't you miss the sky, are there many shemlen, is it true you went to the Beyond, weren't you scared? Inevitably, they reach THE question, the one Lavellan has been dreading all along: why is your face all bare? For a moment, they consider taking the easy way out. But then they think of shadows wearing vallaslin and "elven" legends are wrong and you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent. And so, amidst the Emerald Graves, under the gaze of absent Gods, they bestow upon the child the only gift that still matters: truth, unconditional.
