Even mountains had a heart, once. When the world was young, Korth the Mountain-Father kept his throne at the peak of Belenas, the mountain that lies at the center of the world, from which he could see all the corners of earth and sky. And he saw strong men become weak, brave men grow cowardly, and wise men turn foolish for love.
Korth devised a plan that he might never be betrayed by his own heart, by taking it out and hiding it where no soul would ever dare search for it. He sealed it inside a golden cask, buried it in the earth, and raised around it the fiercest mountains the world had ever seen, the Frostbacks, to guard it.
But without his heart, the Mountain-Father grew cruel. His chest was filled with bitter mountain winds that shrieked and howled like lost souls. Food lost its flavor, music had no sweetness, and he lost all joy in deeds of valor. He sent avalanches and earthquakes to torment the tribes of men. Gods and men rose against him, calling him a tyrant, but with no heart, Korth could not be slain. Soon there were no heroes left, either among men or gods, who would dare challenge Korth.
The Lady of the Skies sent the best of her children—the swiftest, the cleverest, and strongest fliers—to scour the mountains for the missing heart, and for a year and a day they searched. But sparrow and raven, vulture and eagle, swift and albatross returned to her with nothing.
Then the ptarmigan spoke up, and offered to find the god-chief's heart. The other birds laughed, for the ptarmigan is a tiny bird, too humble to soar, which spends half its time hopping along the ground. The Lady would not give the little creature her blessing, for the mountains were too fierce even for eagles, but the ptarmigan set out anyway.
The little bird traveled deep into the Frostbacks. When she could not fly, she crawled. She hugged the ground and weathered the worst mountain winds, and so made her lonely way to the valley where the heart beat. With all the god's terrible deeds, the heart was far too heavy for the tiny bird to carry, so she rolled it, little by little, out of the valley and down a cliff, and when the golden cask struck the earth, it shattered. The heart was full almost to bursting, and the pain of it roused the mountain god to come see what had happened.
When Korth neared his heart, it leapt back into his chest and he was whole again. Then Hakkon Wintersbreath bound Korth's chest with three bands of iron and three bands of ice, so it could never again escape. And all the remaining gods named the ptarmigan honored above even the loftiest eagles.
—"The Ptarmigan: An Avvar Tale," from Ferelden: Folklore and History, by Sister Petrine, Chantry scholar
Here’s a compilation of the fan banter I’ve written over the years between Solas and other canon Dragon Age characters, posted for Dragon Age Day 2020. There are references to a canon divergent Solas/nb!Lavellan companion romance. I’ve regretfully not written any Iron Bull banter that I’m proud enough of to feature here, but if anyone has any suggestions for topics I’d be glad to hear them.
Featured characters: Solas, Cassandra, Varric, Sera, Blackwall, Vivienne, Dorian, Cole, Morrigan, Cullen, Leliana, Valta, Renn, and Arcane Advisor Merrill!
Solas & Cassandra
(after receiving the quest Agrarian Apostate)
Cassandra: And he was not even a mage. Shameful.
Solas: Would have it been justified if he was?
Cassandra: The Templars have sanction to punish apostates. It would not have been beyond their authority.
Solas: I would not call that justified, merely legal.
Cassandra: The Templars should be better.
Solas: The Chantry armed them and gave them an enemy. That might fuel an army, but will only serve to poison their minds against innocent people, apostates or no.
Solas & Varric
(after killing the Templars during the quest Agrarian Apostate)
Varric: I thought at least away from Kirkwall I could get away from crazy Templars.
Solas: You believe they were mad? The men I saw were no different from those who confronted us in Val Royeaux.
(after delivering the ring)
Solas: She seems to be holding up well, considering.
Varric: Yeah, but I know a front when I see one.
Solas: You believe she was suffering more than she let on?
Varric: Oh, I know it, Chuckles. That ring might comfort her when the country gets too quiet, but it won’t dry her tears or– shit, do much else, really.
Solas: Some wounds only time heal.
Varric: And they always seem to leave ugly scars.
(after beginning Here Lies the Abyss)
Solas: You found Hawke after all.
Varric: Oh, you know. All those heroics jogged my memory.
Solas: Naturally.
Varric: What, you going to lay into me, too?
Solas: No, no. I understand why you hesitated.
(if Hawke is a mage)
Solas: To involve her in a Chantry organisation would not have been wise, at least before it had a chance to prove itself.
(otherwise)
Solas: Given her involvement in this war, I can only imagine there are those on both sides who would blame her for their present predicament.
Varric: You mind telling all that to Cassandra?
Solas: I would prefer not to.
(after Here Lies the Abyss, if Hawke is left behind)
Solas: I have read your book, you know. The Tale of the Champion.
Varric: I don’t know if now’s the best time.
Solas: I understand. I only wanted to say that in reading it, I felt your affection for Hawke in every word. I am... sorry, for what happened.
Varric: Thanks, Chuckles.
Solas: Of course.
(after Here Lies the Abyss, if Hawke survives)
Solas: You said your farewells to Hawke?
Varric: Sure did. Sent letters home, debated sending letters to Weisshaupt. The Wardens will need to know the storm coming their way.
Solas: You believe Hawke will pose a problem?
Varric: Well, maybe not on purpose.
(in the Hissing Wastes, while exploring dwarven ruins)
Varric: I’m surprised you’re not hounding me about how all this makes me feel, Chuckles.
Solas: I had thought we established your disinterest.
Varric: Yeah, well. I’m thinking about it, anyway.
Solas: If you insist. How does this make you feel, Varric?
Varric: There’s a tiny part of me that’s really satisfied, you know? Seeing a Paragon of all people living on the Surface, then the rest of me just doesn’t give a shit.
Solas: Tradition is a difficult thing to shake, to be conflicted is expected. Do you think our discovery here ought to be shared with Orzammar?
Varric: I don’t know about Orzammar, but I can think of a few Surface dwarves who’d be interested in this.
Solas & Sera
Solas: I could not help but notice what you were drawing at breakfast.
Sera: What? I wasn’t drawing anything.
(if Sera is romanced)
Solas: You captured our Inquisitor’s likeness well.
Sera: Better than you could.
(otherwise)
Solas: There was no mistaking Dagna’s likeness. What were you carrying?
Sera: A bowblade. It’s not a thing yet, but if anyone can make one, Widdle can.
Solas: Have you ever given thought to collaborating together on a piece?
Sera: Collaber-what? Piece of what?
Solas: A painting, or a drawing if you prefer, what medium you decide upon makes little difference to me.
Sera: You really think the two of us could work together on anything?
Solas: I was under the impression we had been.
Sera: That’s different. The Inquisition’s not an ‘us’ thing, or it is, but not us us.
Sera: Say if I wanted to make something with you, what’d we even make?
Solas: You ask the question as if there are limitations.
Sera: A dragon, then! No, wait, a butt!
(beat)
Sera: Nothing? Not even a nose wrinkle?
Solas: I am not unopposed to the idea.
Sera: Ugh, how can you even make butts boring?
Sera: (handing him a drawing) Here, made you something.
Solas: What is this? Are those—shoes?
Sera: That’s right. One for each toe. You’re welcome.
(After Solas initiates a relationship with Ian)
Sera: So, you and Freckles, huh? Interesting.
Solas: Your interest is not my concern.
Sera: I always figured you’d wind with someone who’d make the bumping bits matter. Y’know, drop ‘em and rebuild the empire.
Solas: It is not the physical product of our love that matters so much as how he makes me feel when I’m with him.
Sera: Eugh.
(If Ian is in the party)
Ian: (laughingly) Vhenan, I would choose your words more carefully next time.
Solas: Oh. (slightly embarrassed) I did not mean it like that.
Sera: Ha! I’ve made him blush.
Solas: This is why I didn’t wish to discuss it.
Solas & Blackwall
(While near Ferb’s old fishing pier in the Exalted Plains)
Blackwall: Wonder if the fishing’s good. If we had an hour or two…
Solas: Do you consider yourself an angler, Blackwall?
Blackwall: I wouldn’t go that far, but I do enjoy the sport of it.
Solas: I’ve never considered it a sport.
Blackwall: Probably because you’ve never gone fishing just for the fun of it. Next time we make camp, I’ll show you.
Inquisitor: So, how’d your fishing expedition go?
Blackwall: You should’ve seen the size of the gar I wrangled.
Solas: It was not half as impressive as he believes.
Blackwall: He only says that because all’s he caught were minnows.
Solas: (scoffs)
Inquisitor: So... where is it?
Blackwall: We threw it back, of course. Wasn’t like we were going to eat it.
Solas: A convenient excuse.
(Along the Storm Coast)
Blackwall: Ever heard of the pale ship that appears on the mists? The Windy Marcher – I think that’s what they called it.
Solas: I cannot say I have.
Blackwall: An old story, no idea where it started. Must’ve heard it a dozen times in the Free Marches, always a different ending.
Solas: As is often the case with legends, the content and moral changes with the teller.
Blackwall: One man claimed he’d seen it himself, said the ship was captained by beautiful spirits who’d called him to the sea.
Solas: A case of wishful thinking, I assume.
Blackwall: He was a bit of a lonely bastard.
(After Revelations)
Solas: You and Cole seem more friendly, of late.
Thom: He took some getting used to, but his heart’s in the right place. There’s enough darkness in the world without pushing away the good.
Solas: I imagine it was chilling, knowing he could break your cover on a whim.
Thom: That did keep me up some nights, yes. Sometimes I wonder why he didn’t say anything.
Solas: Perhaps he saw in you what the Inquisitor sees.
Thom: Well, I’m grateful. On both counts.
Solas & Vivienne
(After the events of Bring Me the Heart of Snow White)
Solas: I heard the news of Duke De Ghislain’s death. As I understand it, the two of you were close. My condolences for your loss.
(if the Inquisitor gave Vivienne a regular wyvern’s heart)
Vivienne: (coldly) There was a chance at saving him, but he is beyond saving, now. At least, by mortal hands.
Solas: Then I am all the sorrier.
(otherwise)
Vivienne: He was at peace, and we had the chance to meet at least one last chance before he passed.
Solas: Be thankful for that closure, it will bring you comfort in the days to come.
Vivienne: It already has.
Solas: How do you feel about the moniker ‘Madame de Fer?’
Vivienne: Oh, I think it’s darling. Why do you ask?
Solas: Iron is cold, unyielding without the proper tools, some may use it as an insult rather than a mark of respect.
Vivienne: Of that I’ve no doubt, but let them. I embraced it wholeheartedly, and from then on no one could ever truly use it against me.
Solas: True enough, such a tactic has worked for others before.
Vivienne: You will be wearing shoes to the ball, won’t you?
Solas: My comfort is not worth jeopardizing the Inquisition’s image, so yes.
Vivienne: Many elven servants in Orlais go barefoot, it would hardly be a scandal. Still, it would be beneficial. We must all present as a unit when the time comes, not a single hair out of place.
Solas: That will hardly pose a problem for the two of us.
Vivienne: (makes a sound almost like a laugh) Right you are.
Solas: There are rumours that your name be put forward as the next Divine.
Vivienne: I wonder who might have started those.
Solas: After all that has happened these past few months, you believe it possible they will accept a mage into their fold?
(if the Inquisitor completed In Hushed Whispers / is a mage)
Vivienne: Whyever not? Magic is what solved the problem, after all.
Solas: Magic has solved countless problems over the centuries, and yet it is still reviled.
Vivienne: I am not any ordinary mage. If any mage can achieve status of Divine, I am she.
Solas: On that, we agree.
(if the Inquisitor completed Champions of the Just and is a non-mage)
Vivienne: With the Inquisitor’s support there is nothing I cannot accomplish, my dear.
Vivienne: The Inquisitor gave you that hood not half a day ago and it already has a hole in it.
Solas: Two, in fact.
Vivienne: Are you afraid we’ll forget you’re an elf if we go five minutes without seeing your ears?
Solas: My estimation of your abilities is not that low, Enchanter, and I would be careful were I you. Two holes cut in a hood is not nearly as desperate as donning a pair of horns every morning.
(After Ian is made Tranquil during his personal quest)
Vivienne: I hope you know what you are doing, my dear. The Rite of Tranquility is not something easily undone.
Solas: As I understand it, the Seekers did it quite regularly.
Vivienne: And through a far gentler process. What they did to Ian was barbaric, but undoing it is not necessarily a kindness. One might even call it selfish.
Solas: I never made any claim to selflessness.
Vivienne: Go through with it, and he will relive what happened to him every morning and night for the rest of his life.
Solas: (with restrained anger) Do not pretend as though you suddenly care for his well-being now, you showed little regard for him before.
Vivienne: It is a warning, nothing more.
Solas: Your warning is heeded, but it changes nothing. I am under no illusion this will be simple, but to give up on him now— I would be no better than the Circle that once wanted this same fate for him.
Solas & Dorian
Dorian: That book you have on your desk, Solas…
Solas: There are many. Which are you referring to?
Dorian: There’s one that looked to be in Ancient Tevene. Do you speak it, or are you just keeping it around to look clever?
Solas: I would not go so far as to say I speak it, but I understand it well enough.
Dorian: How did you go about learning it?
Solas: Memories of Tevinter’s empire litter the land, there is hardly a place in Thedas where the world does not remember it, and with memories come language.
Dorian: So you learned through the Fade?
Solas: I did, though my pronunciation leaves something to be desired. An unfortunate consequence of learning any language alone.
Dorian: I might be able to help, but only if you give me the satisfaction of hearing you muddle through it out loud beforehand. Also, I’ll be next in line when you’ve finished reading that book of yours.
Solas: (snorts) Very well.
Solas & Cole
Cole: So they’re nobody, but somebody. Empty shells, filled with someone else’s memory.
Solas: For the most part, it seems.
Cole: If they’re heartless, why are they so angry?
Solas: Perhaps it was not so much the absence of feeling, but the lack of recognition of said feelings.
Cole: Belief makes them real, even if they’ll always be different.
Cole: It remembered. Delight in discovery, always pushing further into the unknown— someone like that does not simply disappear, and yet... it cannot remember his name.
Solas: Names are not so as important as the spirit of the person they belong to.
Cole: It remembered the person. Sadder, but stronger. If I ever return to the Fade, I would like to meet it.
Solas: Nothing would delight it more.
Cole: Oh, I know. I think we’d be friends.
(After the banter where Solas helps prevent a panic attack)
Cole: You breathe in— one, two, three, four— then out— one, two, three, four— feel the grass beneath your feet, magic between your fingers, remember what is and what was. How long did it take you to learn?
Solas: More time than is ideal.
Cole: I’m sorry.
Solas: There is some comfort in knowing I’ve learned enough to help others with such struggles.
Cole: I’ll count with you, if you need.
Solas: Thank you, Cole.
Solas: I’m curious how your efforts are coming along since we last spoke.
Cole: Josephine misses how saffron tastes, but she hasn’t asked the chef to purchase any. I wrote it on a list when no one was watching. Cullen doesn’t like my letters. He says they don’t make sense.
Solas: I cannot imagine he devoted much time to understanding them.
Cole: No. Listening is... difficult, when you’ve been taught not to.
Cole: Eyes fall shut, but they do not drift away. Their feet are tethered, tied to the ground.
Solas: Even dwarves who lived and died on the Surface never dreamed.
Cole: But they are still remembered. The song drowns out their thoughts, but it does not smother them. If I listen, I can hear.
Solas: I have seen fewer glimpses of dwarven history than I would like, but there are always memories preserved by particular attentive spirits.
(When passing through the kitchen, or lingering nearby. Solas stands over the stove and Cole sits on a nearby counter, hitting his leg against the wood.)
Solas: Would you like to try it, Cole?
Cole: Would it not be a waste? I don’t need to eat.
Solas: To overindulge, perhaps. A taste will do you nor the world any harm, a good meal is about more than survival.
Cole: Then I’d like to try it, please.
Cole: You don’t have to eat, Solas.
Solas: Strictly speaking, no.
Cole: Sometimes you do anyway.
Solas: When the urge takes me, or if refusing would be seen as ill-mannered.
Solas: If I could ask for your opinion, Cole.
Cole: It remembers the garden. The sun bakes it red, colour working through it like a blush upon a maiden’s cheeks.
Solas: Excellent. And this?
Cole: It was lost in weeds for weeks, neglected and forgotten. It tastes like oversteeped tea.
Solas: I see. Then we will find another.
Cole: And it remembers the ocean?
Solas: It knows the mountain streams and rocky coasts as well as any well-seasoned traveller, though the paths it takes are laid with smoother stones.
Cole: Rough edges wicked away by river waters. Soft enough to stand on without any shoes.
Solas: Though one must still take care not to fall.
(optional)
Inquisitor: Speaking from personal experience, Solas?
Solas: I suppose one might say that.
Cole: Feet forget the ground, flying out from beneath him, but the rest of him doesn’t follow.
Solas: (tinged with embarrassment) As I said.
Inquisitor: (chuckles)
(otherwise)
Cole: But you always get up again.
Solas & Cullen
Cullen: I’m curious how you’ve avoided Templars all these years.
Solas: I would prefer not to say.
Cullen: I’m no longer a Templar, you know.
Solas: Then why do you still wear their heraldry? Or am I mistaken?
Cullen: I…
Solas: Templar or no, your support for its cause endures. I would not endanger fellow apostates by revealing our methods.
Solas: Master Tethras tells me you served in Kirkwall.
Cullen: Varric has no shortage of stories, that one just so happens to be true. Why do you bring it up?
Solas: My travels have taken me there, on occasion.
Cullen: I admit, I’m curious what your impression was.
Solas: All the world is steeped in tragedy, but in Kirkwall the Fade overflows with it. Spells flow from the fingertips with such ease you may forget the Veil altogether.
Cullen: That doesn’t surprise me, the amount of abominations I saw during my years there…
Solas: They were but a symptom. Kirkwall’s sickness ran deeper than what any one spirit could cure.
Solas & Leliana
Solas: I have heard the Inquisition call you many titles. Sister, Nightingale, Spymaster.
Leliana: I have worn many masks, some I’ve liked more than others. Why do you mention it?
Solas: Which do I refer to you by?
Leliana: (laughs) Whichever you prefer. You may use Leliana, if you wish.
Solas: Then I shall see which suits you best.
Solas & Josephine
Josephine: It took several tries, but we managed to remove the wine stain from your sweater. I apologise again for Lady Vérène’s indiscretion.
Solas: The fault is hardly yours. It is a pity she is not more open to an apostate’s perspective, but the loss is hers. Extend my sincere gratitude to whoever expunged the mark. I have only a few shirts to my name.
Josephine: You know, Solas, now that the Inquisition finds itself in more favourable circumstances, we can afford to purchase you a new wardrobe.
Solas: With respect, Ambassador, I value comfort over style. I’m uncertain the Summer Bazaar will be able to accommodate me.
Josephine: It would be a most... unusual request, but I believe I know the tailor for the job.
Josephine: Have you found the library to your liking?
Solas: I have. I cannot imagine any other circumstance where someone like me could have such unmitigated access to the written word. Most human libraries are not so liberal with their guests.
Josephine: I confess, I have never been without books. Ever since I was a child they were always within reach.
Solas: Then you must have recommendations.
Josephine: One or two come to mind. If I can secure faithful translations, you will have them.
Solas & Morrigan
Solas: You seem well-versed in courtly manners for a woman raised in the wilderness.
Morrigan: What are you implying?
Solas: That you have a talent for winding nobles around your finger, or that the infamous ‘game’ is not so deadly as they like to believe.
Vivienne: Or that more talented souls paved the wave for her.
Solas: Another possibility.
Morrigan: ‘Tis true that Orlesians overestimate the challenge of this ‘Game’ of theirs. Empress Celene had her desires, and ‘twas a simple matter to keep her satisfied.
Vivienne: Which is why you’re with us.
Morrigan: With you at my side, I could not help but notice.
Vivienne: Believe me, dear. Court enchanter is a trifle compared to where my sights have set.
Solas: I found your son atop the rotunda’s scaffolding today.
Morrigan: He has long been fond of climbing, and Skyhold’s trees are too new to bear his weight.
Solas: It was no harm. My only regret is I did not have an answer to every question he asked. He is a curious boy.
Morrigan: (laughs) That he is.
(During What Pride Had Wrought, upon finding the mosaic of June)
Morrigan: Ah, clever June. The most elusive of the elven gods, insofar as legends are concerned.
Solas: Their silence is deafening.
Morrigan: I take it you have insight?
Solas: Merely that he does not deserve what little credit he is given. Time has forgotten the name of whosoever built the first aravel.
Solas: Rumour spread that Kieran went missing. I trust your presence here means you have found him?
Morrigan: I… yes.
Solas: He is unharmed?
Morrigan: Yes.
Solas: Then I am glad. And… you?
Morrigan: I have much to think upon, but my son is safe. Everything else can come after.
Solas & Renn
Solas: Tell me, Lieutenant, why did you remain with the Legion?
Renn: Having trouble seeing why it’s your business. Why d’you ask?
Solas: Escaping would be a simple matter of finding the right battle to slip away from. Freedom would only be a few day’s journey from where we stand.
Renn: I couldn’t abandon my men... or my city.
Solas: You show great loyalty to Orzammar, considering you will never see it again.
Renn: Yeah, well. You never forget your home.
Solas: No. I suppose you don’t.
Solas & Valta
Solas: “But the truth is the truth— no matter how political it may be.”
Valta: Do you disagree?
Solas: Just the opposite. The truth does not change with our ability to stomach it. I am glad a historian such as yourself agrees.
Valta: A shame the rest of the Shaperate doesn’t agree with us.
Solas: True, but if they had you would not be here, on the brink of uncovering secrets buried centuries ago. In their attempt to keep you out of the way, they unknowingly set you upon the path to even greater knowledge.
Valta: Orzammar will know the truth. If I don’t make it, then the Inquisitor—
Solas: You are not yet dead, Shaper Valta. Do not count yourself apart from the living so soon.
Solas & Merrill
Merrill: You snort when you laugh.
Solas: I’m well-aware. If you are about to ask me to stop, I’m afraid I’ve tried before.
Merrill: Oh, it’s not a bad thing. It might be the most charming thing about you.
Solas: Damned by faint praise.
Merrill: It is a very charming laugh.
Solas: Why did you leave your clan? I read Varric’s Tale of the Champion, but I suspect most of it was a lie.
(if present)
Varric: Hey! I’m right here.
Solas: You did well to lie. To name her as a Dalish mage would be to paint a target upon her back.
(otherwise)
Merill: I left… I— it wasn’t exactly my choice. There was a mirror, tainted by the Blight. I thought we should fix it, even if it meant turning to blood magic. My Keeper disagreed.
Solas: You cleansed the Blight from an eluvian? That is remarkable.
Merrill: I used to wonder if it was worth it. I sacrificed so much to get it working, years of my life, my— I’m just glad we’re getting use out of it, now.
Merrill: You’re wrong about my people, Solas. The Dalish aren’t as lost as you think.
Solas: They cast you to the streets of Kirkwall, exiled you for the crime of pursuing the duty they tasked you with.
Merrill: Some of them said such awful things, they looked at me like I was already a demon, but… that doesn’t mean there isn’t good, too. Sometimes I wonder, had my Keeper not been so against me, if things might have been different.
Merrill: I don’t know what they said to you, but I know what their scorn feels like. It hurts, but… there’s so much to admire.
Solas: You still feel for them.
Merrill: They’re my people, they always will be. No matter how much they might hate me, I’ll always love them.
Solas: Put like that, I suppose I understand the sentiment.
Merrill: It’s a lonely feeling, isn’t it?
Solas: It never ebbs, no.
Merrill: Then just— remember them, when you think unkind thoughts about the Dalish. The people you miss, the people you don’t, and what you’d sacrifice for them both.
(in the Exalted Plains, outside the boundaries of Hawen’s camp)
Merrill: (giggles) Datishan was asking about you before we left.
Solas: Datishan… Hawen’s little hunter?
Merrill: Who else? She wanted to know when you’d be back.
Solas: What did you tell her?
Merrill: I told her you needed time, that good stories don’t grow on trees. You will go back, won’t you?
Solas: It seems I shall have to, or else suffer the wrath of her arrows.
Merrill: You joke, but she almost poked out my eye last night.
Solas: (chuckles)
Ariwyn Lavellan for the Inquisitor appreciation going around thanks to @unofficialdragonageday! Ariwyn was originally not my canon Inquisitor (I only made her to romance Solas, and I sorta accidentally completely fell in love with him). Now she’s my canon Inquisitor!
Being a rather nervous Dalish First, Ariwyn found it quite difficult to adjust to life in the Inquisition and being Inquisitor after it was essentially thrust upon her after the Conclave. She had willingly gone against her father’s wishes to spy on it, and things obviously went downhill afterwards. It takes her quite a significant amount of time to properly flourish into her role as Inquisitor, and even longer to get past her uncertainties and insecurities.
