Solas is not a fully formed person.
When I think of him I can only imagine these shattered pieces of glass, a mere glimpse into what he could have been like if he ever fully formed. But Solas was never awarded the time to flourish, to develop into something that could fully be regarded as him
The nature of a spirit is narrow all things considered, someone should have thought of the consequence of taking on flesh, to become a person. Yet lyrium is spilled, spirit and flesh combined... whatever could go wrong? Let us play at being Gods.
Now, the world needed a vengeful and rebellious God, that's what he became. Mythal wanted her companion, he bowed his head to what he considered a friend, but was she truly? His people needed vengeance, so he took up a mantle no one asked him to―to right a wrong few in the world even know about. His regrets demanded blood, so he killed and lied and ensnared...
Regret is a powerful motivator, enough to let it consume whatever you could have been, returning to safe waters better than facing the unknown.
I do believe Solas knows who he wants to be. The person he masqueraded as while directing the Inquisition much like a well versed maestro, is the idealised version of him. The Solas he wishes he could be above all else. But the truth of the matter, is that you cannot pick and choose what pieces of yourself you wish to uplift, and which to strangle. As a spirit he could have been Wisdom, pure in form and without callouses and scars―he no longer has that choice.
For at the end of the day it is these 'choices', either of his own make or influenced by others that has made him what he is. Flesh forces change, and to someone born into the world with one trait elevated above all else... is it truly so strange he pushes against it
The Dread Wolf represents change, yet the man who bears the moniker hates it above all else. Yearning for something simple in a world he broke all on his own. It is torture in itself.
And if the world had shattered, made anew as he had wished it―what would be left of old Fen'Harel? Would he be able to rearrange those fragmented pieces of glass, a picture made up of blood stained shards that once upon a time reflected what he had been? Flesh forces change. What stares back at him is someone he barely recognises, a victim, a villain, a God, a friend, a lover, a man.
No matter how he twists and turns this mirror, the reflection changes―and Solas hates that.
He has killed, loved, laughed, denied, hated, sacrificed, learned,―
Now the current world's blood stains his dagger, dying on the behalf of a memory that is hazy at best now. No matter, he can try again when the time is right, the pride in him whispers he will do it correctly this time.
The wisdom in him begs for it all to stop.
Solas does not know who he truly is, nor does he want to embrace the fact time has changed him regardless of his own wishes. Let it all become regrets and thrown in the Fade. He continues to reflect only what others may want him to be in an endless spiral he will never truly escape from―he has tricked himself in the end.
It is tragic, and horrifying at the same time.
