"Would that I could live a hundred years at your side," Lavellan said softly “Perhaps then I could part from you with little sorrow."
Solas touched her cheek, heard the tremble in her voice and knew his heart did the same in his chest.
"I have lived nearly a millennia and I do not know that I shall ever have the strength to leave without aching.” He admitted, though he rose and forced himself away from her.
"Then why must you go?” She pressed, hurt and lonely though they still stood close enough to touch.
Solas sighed, "Because some pains are sharper than others."
"And leaving me will be the smallest of them?" She whispered.
“No.” He shook his head, pressed his lips to her one final time before pulling away, “Leaving you will break me, and all that must come after will pale in comparison. If I can walk away from you, the destruction of the world seems a paltry pain indeed."
Solas and Lavellan holding hands in the crestwood cutscene just makes me wonder about how often they did it before then.
would they hold hands as they sit, relaxing, on their rare quiet afternoons up in her quarters?
when they’re out on the field would lavellan slip her hand into his and watch him fuss about being seen by the soldiers?
would they sneak small affectionate squeezes when they were in public? as they walked past each other in the halls of shyhold, both busy with their work, would they let their hands meet as they passed one another, letting their knuckles brush or their palms slide across each other. when they walk away they’d smile knowingly to themselves, knowing the other is thinking about them as well.
did she take his hands in hers when he came back to skyhold after all new, faded for her? did she hold them tightly, close to her chest when she told him not to grieve alone next time?
before battles, adamant fortress, the arbour wilds or even halamshiral, would solas lace his fingers with hers, soothing her nerves and reminding her he is here, he has her back?
would he grip her hand tightly when she falls in battle, their fingers slippery with blood, as he begs her to keep her eyes open just for a little longer, please hang on vhenan?
Before he left her to go through the eluvian with the anchor, did he hold her hand? one final affection he would allow himself because he thinks he’ll never see her again? or did she grab his, clinging, tight and desperately not letting go, begging to stay?
can the inquisitor still feel the warmth and weight of solas’ hand in hers, even though it’s gone?
Dirthamen.
(God of secrets and knowledge in elven pantheon of Dragon Age universe.)
“Dirthamen is the twin brother of Falon'Din. He is also known as a “twin soul” to Falon'Din, rather than merely a twin. Dirthamen is the elven god of secrets and knowledge, and master of the ravens Fear and Deceit, having found them in the Fade and outsmarted them both.“ (da-wiki)
I was curious about whether Solas looks at Lavellan differently from an inquisitor he is friends with, so I watched both cutscenes simultaneously. The differences are subtle, but present. These were taken during the same pauses after the same lines. He looks much sadder talking to you when you are in a romance with him.
When asked “What about the future?” his expression is hardened, bitter, and focused around the romanced inquisitor throughout the entirety of his next line. The conversation is difficult for him. He is neutral with a high approval inquisitor.
Interestingly enough, his expressions are almost exactly the same when answering the questions about his plans. It does not deviate again (save for the few special lines only romanced Lavellans can say) until you bring up the mark (right before he removes it), but that one involves different camera angles and completely different actions on his part.
“It’s getting worse.”
High Approval Inquisitor response: *pause* Yes. I’m sorry. And we are almost out of time.
Romanced Lavellan response: I know, vhenan. And we are running out of time.
It looks like he had to prepare himself much more for a conversation with a romanced inquisitor vs a friendly one. He is hardening himself, shutting her out, almost the entire time. The only time his guard drops are in the beginning when he first sees her, and when he has to make physical contact with her to remove the mark.
BY ANY OTHER NAME
coles of dragon con 001 - flower hat cole
courtesy of acecasinova
DO YOU EVER JUST. HATE YOURSELF SO MUCH.
I was inspired by all the wonderful cosplays this year at Dragon Con.
acecasinova was a precious bby Cole with flowers in their hat so I wondered why the flowers were there? My brain thought up this fluffy scenario and I drew it out all cute then BAM. I realized that Cole… lives for a very long time.
He spread his hands wide, extended his arms out in so helpless an expression that she all but felt his pain.
"I have always understood the fault was mine, the result of my own arrogance. To have caused such sadness between us is something I must carry, the weight mine alone to bear, though you have been left scarred."
“Scarred?” Lavellan reached up, touched her unblemished, unmarked face.“It was through my own choice that I have been maimed almost beyond even self-recognition.”
The smile on her face was brief, self-mocking, “But I cannot wish it undone. I have shamed myself with that weakness, and yet it remained one of my few sources of joy, to remember our time together and know that what we had was real.”
“I will always be real.” Solas said softly.
“And it will forever more exist in the past.” She said the words with conviction, finality, “What we had is over, and no manner of dreaming can make those memories change our reality.”
“So what will you do?” He pressed.
A single tear slid down her cheek as she readied herself for the fight.
Talk Time #3: Vhena Lavellan
“I suspect you have questions.”
The manner of his words, the quiet confidence, is familiar enough to make Vhena pause. It’s rare that she is surprised and she does not like the feeling that twists within her gut, leaves her feeling sick and unsteady.
Still, despite the years apart he remains unmistakably himself. Not even a change of wardrobe can alter that. She knew him once, perhaps she still knows him now.
“Questions?” The smile on her lips is small, bitter, but tinged with the tender heart she’s fought to protect. It aches in her chest now, but she is not as beholden to it as she once was.
“Yes of course I have questions,” Her voice is steady, calm despite the tremble in her hands, her heart, “I do not think I will ever not have them.“
She wants to take a step forward, to reach out and touch him if just to confirm for herself that he is actually there. But she does not, cannot do it for the damage it will cause her.
So she remains where she is, standing across the small clearing as if it were a chasm instead. And into the quiet she asks her question.
“Was it worth it?”
Solas sat in silence for a long while after Lavellan had succumb to his sleeping draught. His deception might not have been the most elegant solution, but it was effective and harder to counter than a spell might have been. Neither of which would make her any happier when she awoke.
In truth, Lavellan's decision to turn back to the eluvian had panicked him. It made no sense, of course it did not, but having seen her brought so low after all of her victories against Corypheus had twisted something inside him. Something he had tried to ignore without success.
Vhenan.
She still owned his heart completely. Whether she wanted it or not, he was helpless to remove her hold on him. But that did not give him the right to do what he had just done, and he knew that he had shattered whatever small margin of trust that had remained between them.
They had not parted in anger the last time, it seemed impossible to imagine she would not be upset now. Still, if he had his way, she would be free of whatever lurked behind that mirror.
The knowledge that she was safe once more would be worthy of such a cost.
He exhaled roughly at the thought, the ache deepening as he glanced down at the woman who slept soundly against his chest. Peaceful, he would have gladly spent an age simply watching her chest rise and fall with breath, feeling the warmth of her against him.
But it was not to be had, for even now he remembered the intensity of her expression, the fervor with which she tried to return to the eluvian.
What had she seen that had made her so adamant?
Quiet, contemplative, his serene features masked a roiling mind and an even more volatile temper. If she had but answered his questions he could have helped her. But she had refused his help, had dismissed him as easily as a child. That had stung, though he could find no fault in her logic. It seemed he would forever be both impressed and frustrated by this woman, torn between respecting her decision and ignoring her wishes to protect her.
He should have allowed her to return through the mirror, should have simply ignored her request and followed her to confront whatever was waiting.
Age was supposed to bring wisdom. The experience was meant to temper hot-headed decisions and rash action. But it seemed these insights did nothing to quiet the anger that continued to simmer just below the surface. Since he had first found her token in the Fade it had only grown more potent.
Still, he was not a man easily lent to viciousness and the last time he had done so had been...
Blood and screaming, the loss of control, of conscious thought replaced by the instinctual drive to kill and maim and hurt those that had wounded him.
His best friend was dead, murdered, and there was no longer a leash to hold him, no means to temper the vicious instincts of the beast.
Solas stared down at his Lavellan with sightless eyes, lost in the memory.
Blood soaked but victorious, his howling laughter filled the vaulted ceilings of the temple as bodies lay where they had fallen. They who were guilty of such heinous acts had chosen to blame him, and he had answered their mockery with his own brand of justice.
'Fen'Harel?'
Upon the steps of the temple he met one of the few left who might yet be reasoned with. Dressed in the deep blue robes of his caste, the other man bowed respectfully as he approached.
'Hello, priest.' Fen'harel grinned, propping his hands on his hips, as he eyed the man 'Have you come to kill me too?'
He bore the wounds of many betrayals and expected many more before he was done.
'No,' the priest shook his head 'I came to offer you a means to control that beast.'
'Control it?' He had laughed, sneered, 'Why would I want to control it?'
'You are not as cold as you seem, Dread Wolf, my master has told me to remind you that you need not be the animal they insist you are.'
The truth of the words, the hurt, made him pause.
'Dirthamen sent you.'
The priest smiled, shrugged, 'He knew you would need support, a reminder that you are not as alone as you might believe. And he wanted to provide what help he could. He...suspected this might happen.'
Suspected and done nothing. Fen'harel bit back his anger, knowing it was Dirthamen's way to stay removed from the goings on of the People.
'You mean to offer me one of your many secrets then.'
'Of a kind.' The man brushed his fingers along the surface of his amulet, and the deep color of it flashed once before beginning to glow.
Fen'harel stared at it for a long moment before meeting the man's steady gaze with his own sharp one.
'What did you have in mind?'
Solas' fingers caught in the tangled threads of the knot in his pocket. And like a net it pulled him from the stormy sea of thought, of memory. Looking down at the silken tethers of what had once been a Lover's Knot he contemplated the meaning he found there before pocketing it once more.
It was time.
Regardless of his reservation, he needed to act.
Slowly, gently, he eased Lavellan's sleeping form from his shoulder, pillowing her head with the folded edge of his spare cloak. Watching as she settled, he allowed himself a small gesture of affection, brushing the silken strands of her hair behind her ear, before he turned to leave.
It was then that he finally noticed it. A glint of pale light on the cracked surface of the gem, he bent down to examine the stone locked in her grasp and felt the shock to his system as if it were a physical thing.
The Amulet of Dirthamen. It was the same amulet the priest had used to help him those many centuries ago.
He recognized it immediately, but there was no making sense of its appearance there in her hand. Not now.
How could it have found its way to him?
He did not believe in fate, refused to believe that coincidence had brought this particular gem into his possession. But...he looked down at Lavellan and felt his heart ache as the pieces fell unerringly into place.
You are Mythal's creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her. You have given up a part of yourself.
He had said those words to her after the Well of Sorrows, to warn her, but never had it dawned on him that this would be how it would manifest. Compelled by powers outside her comprehending, her every action had brought her a step closer to him once more, brought the amulet within his reach.
I am sorry.
And because he was taking her amulet, he drew the cord from around his neck. But it was not the wolf-bone that he gave, rather it was the token she had given him those many years ago, the partner to her own tangled knot. Drawn from beneath his tunic, it shone of silver thread and careful work, as perfect now as it had been when she had first gifted it to him. Tucking it into her hand, he curled her fingers around the token, and set that hand upon her breast, close to her heart.
Forgive me.
He pressed his lips to her fist before stepping back, taking Dirthamen's amulet with him to stand before the eluvian. His decision had been made for him, his guilt the catalyst to propel him forward.
And as he looked down the glassy surface of the stone, noting his pale reflection and the expression on his face, he realized that once more Lavellan had provided the means for his continued journey. First she had stopped Corypheus, and now this. The thought brought him no peace and despite the amulet's power he felt no glow of victory, no relief.
Still, he knew the path he had to walk. And so he swallowed past the tightness in his throat to begin the first of the incantations as the priest had taught. Despite the years , the words came to his lips with as much fluidity as the first time he had spoken them.
And as he spoke he remembered how at the behest of Dirthamen's priest he had locked away his bloodlust, the worst of his temper and the animal instincts that thrived on conflict. He had handed over the very thing that was his namesake.
Dread Wolf.
Knowledge was power, and this power had been too dangerous to be anything less than a secret, kept safe by the greatest of secret-keepers. Now he needed that power returned.
He finished the incantation in a rush of sound that twisted into a growl and filled the misty abyss with a rumble. And with the final syllable came a flash of blue, the faint sensation of a key sliding into a lock and turning.
About to unlock and unleash a monster. He cast one last, lingering gaze at the woman who slept peacefully upon the ground, his token in her hand. And then he was through the mirror, standing in the dark of the temple just as the key finished turning and the lock slid smoothly open.
The power exploded in the hall, fire and rage as above it loomed the enormous red eyes of the beast, all of it expanded for a single second and then contracted, spiraling downward into the mage that had once housed it's endless rage, unfurling a magic so resonant that the very temple around him trembled with it.
Freed from centuries of confinement, the Dread Wolf howled and whatever reservations Solas had disappeared a midst a haze of blood and the overwhelming, undeniable instinct of a predator.
Her lungs burned from exertion, hot and short, they seared her throat as she careened down the hall. Eyes wild, she tried to make sense of the world around her as she ducked around shadows and waterfalls alike. Left, then right around the corner, she paid no mind to the tang of blood in her mouth, the pain that danced across her back.
With his amulet in her possession Dheron had lost any semblance of control, and even now she could hear the sizzle of magic behind her. He was more competent than she might have expected, but no where near the talent of the mages who had been in her company during the fledgling days of the Inquisition. Vivienne, Dorian, and Solas had all the finesse of those who were masters of their craft, Dheron had none of their grace. Rather his attacks were the sort of blunt explosions of temper that indicated great intent but little consideration.
His lack of control was her boon. And though she had sustained some injuries, they were not as bad as they could have been, nor did they hamper her enough to give up her flight to freedom. Still, she had lost track of where she had been running, had used the looping tunnels of the temple for as long as she could before necessity had forced her to the lower levels.
Breathing hard as she jumped over a downed statue, she had only just ducked around a second crumbled sculpture when a flicker of blue light in her peripheral snapped her attention away from her pursuer.
There, on the far wall the blue arced out in the flowing script she recognized. Had she enough time, the urge to properly translate the words would have been an easy enough one to follow. But the burn upon her back was reminder enough, and she drew near only to scan the words, to see if there might be something more.
Her curiosity was rewarded. No sooner had she crouched beside the wall when in her hand the amulet flared to life, light spilling through the gaps in her fingers as it washed the room in its vibrant hue.
Then she was falling down, through a hole in the ground that had opened with such startling abruptness that she did not even have time to voice her surprise. Further and further she descended, with only the darkness and the cool whip of air on her face and clothes to let her know she was still moving. And in her mind the voices of the well sang, the sweetness of the sound comforting in the dark nothing.
Her trip below ended just as abruptly as it had began. Between one breath and the next was the presence of the ground beneath her feet, the sensation of her legs working to hold her up. But the shadows lingered, clung like spider webs to the corners of the large room in which she found herself.
It was only then, when she stood shrouded in the dark that the amulet flared to life once more, leaving her to do little more than stare in silent wonder as the light glanced off the curled filigree of magnificent arches and illuminated the solitary shape that rose from the center of the room.
Tall and imposing, held above on a dais of glittering black stone, it took a long moment for her to understand what she was looking at. At first she could do little more than blink the dark from her eyes, straining to see what even the amulet seemed hard pressed to illuminate. But then it did, and as she drew closer she found herself looking at her reflection in the shifting not-glass of an ancient mirror, an eluvian.
The eluvian. It seemed she had found it after all.
Relief, disbelief, bubbled up to mix with the exhaustion of the past few hours. Sighing slowly, deeply, she pressed her forehead to the chilled surface of the mirror, raised her hands so that her palms could touch its smooth surface and be eased as well.
But no sooner had she done so when the surface began to glow, and as she stepped back, the image, her image, rippled and the changed. In her place stood a pair of young elven men, broad shouldered and handsome, their matching blue eyes and sharp features marked them for the twins they were.
And they were familiar these two, strangely so, as if their names might be on the tip of her tongue if she could but remember. Given where she was standing, in the Temple of Dirthamen, it was possible that they were Dirthamen and his brother Falon'Din. Lavellan could not claim to be a scholar of the elven pantheon, but she had raised as a proper Dalish and knew her stories.
Still, these two were not likely to be the elven gods. Not unless she had somehow met them in a previous life. She knew these two, somehow.
But no sooner had she taken a half-step closer, to examine their features anew when, like before, the mirror began to glow and ripple, replacing the adult figures with images of their younger, softer selves.
It was then that her eyes filled with tears. For she did know them, recognized them, and they were most beloved. Looking at the boy on the right she examined the reserved expression, the quiet intellect behind those dreamer's eyes.
Numinehn.
She felt her throat tighten as she moved to the other little face and recognized him too. Fierce where his brother was calm, he was a whirlwind, a tempest, the little warrior. And those blue eyes...he shared that distinct color with his father. Twins, she had thought and they were, her twins.
Era'fen.
Twins, she had thought and she had been correct, for they were twins, but more than that, they were her sons.
The memory of her eldest however must have been taken from her, stolen by Dheron, for it was only now she knew, remembered him.
But to remember her captor seemed to summon him as well, and in the mirror she watched in horror as behind them, her sons, the shadows congealed into a twisting mass, sprouting fur the exact color of Dheron's dark locks. Taller and taller it rose, on hind legs to reveal sharp claws and a predator face. But it was only when it opened its eyes, revealing the blood-red color of them, that she made sense of the elongated snout, those sharp teeth, the monstrosity that could only be one being.
Dread Wolf.
She recognized him in an instant, felt the dual sensations of fear and protectiveness roar to the forefront as he reared back, jaws opening as he began to descend on the reflections of her children.
"No!"
She did not know if this was a vision of what was to pass, or if this was the power of the amulet finally allowing her to see what was in Dheron's deepest thoughts, but she had to stop him. Desperate to save her children, Lavellan thrust her hand and the amulet, towards the mirror.
The reaction was immediate, and yet entirely confusing, for no sooner had her hand touched the mirror when the dark fur bloomed white, exploding the shadows with light until it even overwhelmed the bloody red of its eyes, clearing them until they were blue like the sky before a storm.
"I don't understand." Swallowing the emotions that still ran too close to the surface, Lavellan shook her head, clenched her trembling hands to her side as she watched the image fade. "Are they in danger? Does Dheron intend to go after them?"
"Lavellan?"
She had no recollection of when she had made the transition from one side of the eluvian to the other, but when she turned around there was no denying that she had left the temple of Dirthamen behind.
Instead she found herself in a landscape of soft grey and mist, accompanied by the one man she had tried desperately to avoid. It would have been better had he not been there, but there was nothing she could do now. Not when he stood so immediately behind her, more real than the memories she had of him, more vibrant and alive than she dared remember.
"Hello, Solas."
It hurt, to swallow, to speak. The restraint was a near thing, nearly abandoned under the heavy burden of all the questions he had never answered, the pieces of a shattered heart she had never been able to fully piece together. But she did not dare show the weakness she felt so acutely, not again, never again.
"You remember." He did not hide the relief in his voice, the almost imperceptible hint of a smile on his lips. "And you are free."
The expression on his face made her heart twinge, but she masked the pang with a noncommittal grunt, glancing around this space that reminded her of the ancient elven crossroads she had visited with Morrigan those many years ago.
"Do any of these paths lead to Wycome?" She asked quietly. There were questions she wished to ask him, but now was not the time and it was likely it would ever be the right time. So she focused on the task at hand, reminded herself of the sons she had waiting for her.
"To Wycome?" He seemed surprised by her request, but answered her readily, "No. I am sorry, they do not. Nowhere close even."
"I see." She tried but could not quite hide the disappointment. Eyes closing for a brief moment, as if to gather what strength she could from the solitude, she took a slow breath before coming to the only decision only she could.
"Please excuse me."
She turned, headed back to the mirror from whence she had just come, back to the temple and back to Dheron. If she could not ferry her children out of danger's path then she had to stop it where she new it currently lay in wait.
"Why?" He strode forward, took the position between her and the mirror, knowing there was nothing but trouble waiting for her there, "Why return there?"
"You lost the right to ask that question a long time ago, Solas." She said gently.
"Perhaps I have." He agreed, "But you will be unable to open the way back without me. It requires more power than you have on your own."
He could not know she had the amulet, so she kept her secret a while longer as she studied his fair featured, the concern that had knotted his brow.
His tone grew steelier, steadier with this admission, "Why go back? Why put yourself in danger once more, what reason could be worth such a cost?"
She smiled thinly, a mockery of what once had been a full and beautiful gesture reserved solely for him.
"What does it matter? Do you not have your own mission to carry out?" She shrugged, avoided his question once more, "I will not answer just because you wish it."
"Lavellan-" He took a step closer, brows raised in concern, "This makes no sense."
"You chose this path, Solas, for the both of us. I did not begrudge your decision though I did not understand it." Her eyes flashed in anger, "You would do well to grant me the same courtesy."
"You are putting yourself needlessly in danger by going back there. For what reason would you do this?"
"The reasons are my own, just as the responsibility to take action is meant for me alone." Stubborn, brave, she looked him in the eye and stood up to him, every inch the leader of the Inquisition.
"You know I cannot let you do this, vhenan."
The word, that word of endearment made her blanch so quickly she nearly felt faint. And though she could see Solas regretted using it, the damage was done.
"Of all the things you are forbidden to call me, that is the most serious of them." The words came out of her mouth as a stricken whisper, "Do not call me that, again. It is too cruel, even for you."
"I..." Solas swallowed, turned from her in regret, "I am sorry."
"Then let me go and leave me be." Turning back to where the mirror stood, she had not yet taken a step when she felt his hand brush the top of her shoulder, just above where she knew the skin was burned.
"You are injured." He pointed out quietly, "If you insist on going back into danger then at least let me heal the worst of it. It is...the least I can do."
It hurt still, her injury, but with so many other concerns, it was a low priority, low enough that she could not be bothered even now. It helped that the taste of blood had long since washed from her mouth.
"It is not so bad that I cannot fight." She knew her limits, was veteran enough to gauge her body and the trial ahead, "Besides I do not have time for healing, nor the means to carry additional flasks."
"Then take this before you go," He handed her a bottle, one she recognized from their travels; elfroot. The simple flask brought with it memories, too many to be considered now of all times.
"I - " She swallowed in the face of his quiet compassion, his innate practicality, "Very well. But it cannot be more than this, no healing spells."
He remained silent, merely watched as she removed the stopper and downed the contents in a single gulp. It did not taste as it should have, and her eyes snapped opened the moment her brain made sense of what her tongue had tasted.
"Solas, what have you done?!"
She threw the flask to the ground, made for the eluvian immediately, but it was already too late for she had downed the potion completely. The heaviness in her limbs was already beginning, the seductive call of sleep and solitude an impossible song to ignore.
"Wha-" She turned on him then, her expression furious as her weakening legs gave way, leaving her to collapse into his embrace.
"How could you?!" Disbelief colored her vice as she grew increasingly more frantic, hating the way her body betrayed the weariness she had held at bay for so long.
"I am sorry, Lavellan."
Eyes clouded in sorrow, he looked down at her, cradled her head against his shoulder as he held her close. It was made all the worse by the soft glow of magic and the cooling touch of his hand upon her burned back. Healing her, disregarding her requests, following his own agenda. It was as if the years had rolled back and she was watching him leave her all over again.
"Why?!" She growled, snapped at him like a little she-wolf, sounding so much like her usual self it almost made him smile. Still, she fought the pull of sleep with every shred of stubbornness she possessed. She would not yield. Not now. Not to this.
But she was losing, her body was losing. Like holding back the tide, it was as impossible as taking the moon from the sky. But still she struggled, still she refused.
"Why? Answer me, Solas." She felt tears gather in the corner of her eyes, frustration and anger and hurt making them spill down her cheeks though that too shamed her.
"It is, I am..." He paused as he gathered his thoughts, looked to the eluvian and then back at her, "I am not as strong as I thought. And losing you," He shook his head, sighed, "It does not matter now. It is done and I am not sorry for it."
He tried to smile, but the look in his eyes told her he knew the cost of what he had done to her, what this final betrayal had broken irrevocably. Brushing the tears from her face he pressed on soft kiss to her forehead before pulling away, his eyes lingering until hers fluttered shut.
"When you wake up, this will all be over," he promised.
And though the words were meant to be comforting, she felt only the ache of a wound re-opened and the knowledge that even now he did not trust her with the truth.
