#questions for the inquisitor

[ndostairlyrium]

questions for the inquisitor: 13 and 31 for ankh! 👀 💓

Heyy *-* thank you so much <3

I would love to elaborate more on 31, but I'd need to think it through a bit since Veilguard has introduced things I'm not really happy about :'

13 - How did the Herald feel when everyone sang 'Dawn Will Come'?

Baffled, honestly, and terrified because, you know

a bunch of humans, andrastian, chanting and kneeling at her feet? She didn't take it as humbling, but as a demonstration on how fast minds can shift from desperation to hope. If that happened so quickly, what would happen when hope wasn't enough?

I think Solas arrived at a perfect moment, because she really needed a break to think everything through.

31 - What are the Inquisitor's thoughts on Morrigan? Do they trust her?

Not in the slightest.

When Morrigan offers her help, Ankh realizes that she's either someone who reports to someone else, or someone that has a hidden agenda and would exploit the Inquisition's means to her own ends. It doesn't help that Leliana is wary of her, validating her suspicions.

The Arbor Wilds trip is very embarassing. So far, Morrigan is half truths and obscure tirades, and she's not making an effort to connect with anyone. And after the Temple of Mythal, Ankh's opinions on her are so low the ground can eat them.

I think Ankh becomes a little more sympathetic towards Morrigan after she meets Mythal, but that doesn't change her opinion that she's more a liability than an ally.

-

Questions for the Inquisitor

[mother-giselles-hat]

Meanwhile, at the Cobbled Swan.

Inquisitor: things are terrible. We are Not doing well. We are persisting alongside the horrors, but make no mistake. The cost is high.

Rook: *furiously taking notes* mm hmm got it. Just one more thing before you go?

Inquisitor: ?

Rook: You can come out, Lucanis

Lucanis, sprinting in from the shadows: I heard you fought a wyvern.

Inquisitor: ??

Lucanis: *please* tell me about the wyvern

Inquisitor: Well...are you asking about the Hissing Wastes or Crestwood?

Lucanis: 🫨

[apostatefeverdream]

hello gay people dot com is anyone else going gently insane about the whole "We have retaken Skyhold from the demons that infested it, and there we've brought refugees from this onslaught. How fitting that the fortress that housed my people when we waged war against Corypheus should serve to once again protect the innocent from would-be gods." thing????

idk there's something about the image of the inquisitor back in skyhold after ten years. back in their chambers, the war room, the herald's rest. a decade on and somehow the odds feel even more impossible this time around and maybe that's ever so slightly because skyhold, once busy and bustling, simmering with zeal and pride, is now sitting dark and empty and sad. the skeleton crew that keep it do their best, dust and crumbling mortar are easily fixed, but nothing can dull the slow, steady ache of time and memory.

then skyhold once again floods with people - the noble, the common, warriors and mages and all other manner of folk - and this time, rather than spoiling for a fight, these people are terrified. most are injured, some are dying, all have lost everything. the grounds and great hall are once again fit to bursting, but skyhold remains so desperately, achingly sad. the rotunda is conspicuously empty. as is the library, the rookery, josephine's office, the training grounds, the undercroft. there are new advisors, of course, and the return of a few old friends, but they don't play wicked grace, don't eat together, don't sit and tell long stories into the small hours. the hearth in the inquisitor's room is never as warm as it used to be, the gardens are never as green.

everything is a pale imitation of what was, and the inquisitor, who once was the beating heart of it all, realises that skyhold can never be their home again.

something like that.

[the-senates-one-fear]

When you stop and think about it Kallus betraying the Empire must've been massive

Like this is an ISB agent who has worked with the likes of Grand Moff Tarkin, Grand Admiral Thrawn, The Grand Inquisitor AND DARTH FUCKING VADER who's current mission on Lothol came directly from Emperor Palpatine

Bro was probably one away from working with the Emperor himself

There's no way there wasn't a ripple within the Imperial ranks

[loredrinker]

Could Solas Kill Inky in Place of Varric?

I saw a poll making the rounds days ago asking the age-old question: could Solas have killed the Inquisitor if they, rather than Varric, had approached him during the ritual? I voted no - and now I’m driven to explain why.

I’m not claiming any kind of authority here. Fandom discourse can be sensitive (especially around headcanons), so let’s just agree this is one interpretation among many. And no, this isn’t denial or wishful thinking (though I’m sure some will roll their eyes). I’ve tried to keep this grounded in what the games present and build a case based on narrative structure, context and character logic.

I’m also not saying Solas couldn’t ever harm the Inquisitor. Under the right conditions, it’s possible. But the question is would he have done so in that moment - at the ritual site, in Varric’s place? And for me, the answer is no. Based on where Solas is emotionally and narratively at that point, I don’t believe that outcome fits. 

This post focuses on a Friend and Romanced Inquisitor - those the story frames as emotionally significant to Solas. (I’ll address the low-approval path at the end.)

For this, I want to start with the progression of Solas’ relationship with the Inquisitor as shaped by the events of the games and supporting material. (And of course, the prerequisite disclaimer: these are just my thoughts and interpretations.)

Apologies, it's a bit long.

Emotional Bonds: Solas’ Relationship with the Inquisitor

In Inquisition, Trespasser and Veilguard, we see Solas emotionally compromised by his bond with the Inquisitor - whether friend or lover - through a series of consistent narrative beats.

With a high-approval friend Inquisitor, the connection is built on deep respect. Solas says, “You show a wisdom I have not seen since… since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade,” and adds, “It means that I respect you deeply, Inquisitor.” That word - deeply - is important. Solas doesn’t offer praise lightly, and considering what we know of his guarded nature and history, that line should be read as significant.

After Trespasser, he refers to revealing his plans as a “moment of weakness” (The Dread Wolf Take You), yet chooses to confess anyway because part of him wants the Inquisitor to know. When he meets with Charter, it's because he's learned the Inquisition is involved and knowingly risks exposure by appearing in person. And his message: "Tell the Inquisitor I’m sorry" in a faltering voice further underscores that the Inquisitor has a sort of hold on him.

He admits to Rook that during his rebellion, it took him centuries to build bonds with others - but within the Inquisition, he formed bonds within a year. This is yet another beat that tells us that what happened during the Inquisition was exceptional to Solas - it had immediacy, intimacy, and impact.

Strong evidence of the unique role of the Inquisitor comes from the romance path. Solas prepares to reveal everything but retreats in fear. Yet even after ending the relationship, the connection lingers through multiple narrative beats: dream visits, refers to never forgetting her, his letter, cherishing their time more than his victories. The Crestwood scene is most telling: “You are unique... I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined.” For Solas, the Fade is his sanctuary - where he finds clarity, control, and truth. That a romanced Inquisitor could pull his focus from it is the narrative explicitly telling the player they disorient him. Their emotional gravity is strong enough to draw him away from the only place he’s ever truly longed for. That’s why he runs. So when players ask whether he would have reacted the same way to a romanced Inquisitor at the ritual site as he did to Varric, I feel that dialogue reveals a lot. If they could pull his attention away from the Fade, then it stands to reason they could break his focus mid-ritual. Their appearance could have destabilized him again, just as it did before.

But perhaps what I find to be one of the most compelling pieces is what Veilguard itself tells the player: “The Dread Wolf could not foresee what it would mean to fall in love.” Note the use “the Dread Wolf” here - not Solas. The Dread Wolf is the myth, the feared manipulator. He is supposed to be above mortal emotion, detached and resolute. And yet, the Dread Wolf - not the man beneath the name - is the one undone by love. (How interesting the cut dialogue from Morrigan aligns with this: “And so the Dread Wolf is stopped by, of all things, love.”)

Solas’s Actions Toward Varric Were Not Premeditated 

When Varric approaches Solas at the ritual, Solas doesn’t strike him. He disables Bianca, which Varric has pointed at him - choosing non-lethal intervention - and turns back to his ritual. He speaks to Varric, is composed, focused. There’s no bloodlust or intent to kill. It’s only after Rook topples the statue and Varric lunges at him that Solas stabs him. It’s fast, instinctive, defensive - his control breaking in the middle of a complex, high-stakes spell. And while it’s clear Solas was prepared to incapacitate Varric if necessary, I don’t believe his intention was to kill him (if he truly wanted a fatal outcome for Varric, he would have turned him to stone). I interpret his expression afterward as much: he tilts his head down, his eyes/face fall. This wasn’t premeditated or cold-blooded - it was a response to immediate, physical interference in a moment where precision and focus were everything. Unfortunately, his aim was fatal.

The Inquisitor Would Not Approach the Way Varric Did 

Okay, maybe this part is more subjective, I can admit that - but do many players believe their Friend/Lover Inquisitor would have charged Solas the way Varric did? The Inquisitor is not Varric. Across the games and extended media, they’re portrayed as strategic, influential, and focused on the long game (as I write about here). Varric made an impulsive choice - physically lunging at Solas in the middle of an intense, years-in-the-making ritual. His reaction triggered a defensive response. That’s who Varric is: brave, loyal, emotional - but not really all that strategic. 

By contrast, a friend/lover Inquisitor would most likely approach differently. Look at the atonement ending in Veilguard: they approach slowly, hands out, knowing exactly how dangerous the situation is, yet still choosing to reach him emotionally, rather than physically. Wouldn’t it be reasonable to assume that the same Inquisitor, placed at the ritual site, would do the same? 

And really, we only have one canonical example of an Inquisitor confronting Solas directly: Trespasser. Just the two of them. And even when the Inquisitor is angry or feeling betrayed - not even a low-approval one is harmed. What that shows me is simple: when the Inquisitor is the one standing in front of him, Solas responds differently.

Solas Had Already Changed His Strategy Since Trespasser 

By the time of Veilguard, Solas is no longer fully committed to the most absolute, destructive version of his plan as originally told to the Inquisitor. In The Missing, he tells Varric in a note that “what must be done, will be done cautiously, and I will limit the damage as best I can,” At the ritual site, he again tells Varric that he has taken precautions to minimize the damage, In the Fade prison, he confirms to Rook that he had a host of spirits ready to help minimize loss of life. And while some players may dismiss this as manipulation or self-delusion, it’s worth noting that Emmrich affirms the spirits still think highly of Solas and continue to support him - suggesting he hasn’t lost their trust. Taken together, these are not throwaway lines. They form a consistent pattern.

This isn’t about excusing Solas - it’s about acknowledging the material the game presents. Across multiple sources, the narrative signals that Solas’ internal direction has shifted. He’s no longer blindly pursuing a path of total destruction. Since Trespasser, he’s made a conscious decision (however flawed) to try to control the outcome - to do less harm. Whether or not he’s lying to himself is a valid question, but the story shows that he believes he’s acting with restraint. That belief defines the version of Solas we meet at the ritual site: conflicted, calculating, and trying - however imperfectly - not to repeat past catastrophes.

The Killing of Felassan Is Not a Useful Comparison 

Some players point to Felassan’s death as precedent for the idea that Solas could kill the Inquisitor - but in my view, the circumstances are entirely different. At the assumed time of Felassan’s death, Solas is either still in Uthenera or has recently awakened from it into a world made tranquil by the Veil. He was still reeling from Mythal’s murder and the consequences of his own actions. His psychological and emotional state was unstable to say the least, shaped by disorientation, grief, and urgency. Felassan, by contrast, had centuries to adapt to this changed world, to mourn Mythal, and to forge new connections. Solas had not.

If we look at Solas’s perspective, Felassan didn’t just disagree - he disobeyed a direct order at a critical time, likely seen as a betrayal not only of Solas’ plan, but also of Mythal’s memory. I also don’t believe Felassan’s death was premeditated, it fits a pattern of how Solas reacts when he’s desperate and his control is slipping. (And don't take this as me agreeing with Solas, I'm simply attempting to provide context.)

I think it's worth noting that Felassan’s death may have changed Solas. One of the regrets Rook confronts in the Crossroads is The Betrayal of Felassan, suggesting the moment haunts Solas. It was a personal failure that may have contributed to the caution and restraint we see from him later.

The Flemeth/Mythal Scene 

Some players also cite the end of Inquisition - when Solas absorbs Mythal’s fragment from Flemeth - as proof that he’d kill the Inquisitor, because he kills Mythal. But that reading feels overly simplistic and overlooks what the scene actually depicts, both in Inquisition and its altered version in Veilguard. And maybe this is where I’ll get the most eye rolls, but here it is: Flemeth is not Mythal - she carries only a fragment of her. And in both versions, the visual and narrative cues strongly suggest she anticipated this outcome.

Yes, it does seem cold that Solas has to kill Flemeth to gain Mythal’s power - taking the life of this powerful woman who has influenced and shaped Thedas. But that’s precisely what makes her lack of resistance so fascinating. She doesn’t fight or flee. She reaches out to Solas, touches his face, and calls him “old friend.” So I have to ask - why? If Flemeth or Mythal truly objected, would someone of Flemeth’s immense power (especially when Solas is still regaining his strength) have allowed it? The most reasonable answer is that she didn’t make this decision alone. As the vessel of Mythal’s fragment, it’s entirely plausible that Mythal’s will/memories/essence - her understanding of what must happen - guided the moment. That doesn’t make it easy, or even ethically clean, but it reframes the act as one of grim necessity, not aggression as it wasn’t positioned as theft, but a sorrowful transfer of power.

And we see this tension captured in a single line of dialogue from Mythal: “While the prison is important, it is not the only goal you seek.” She doesn’t reject Solas’ reasoning - she acknowledges the prison’s importance, and by extension, his need for power to do it. But she also makes sure to take this moment to challenge him. She allows the transfer, as she calls him out about why he wants it. Again, Flemeth’s death doesn’t serve as precedent for Solas using violence against the Inquisitor.

The Atonement Ending Reaffirms the Inquisitor’s Unique Emotional Bond

By placing the Inquisitor alongside Mythal in Solas’s path to atonement at the end of Veilguard, it felts like the writers made a deliberate narrative choice. Mythal - the immortal who shaped Solas and his ideology - and the Inquisitor - the mortal who affected his heart - stand together because both are essential to who he’s become. This pairing is symbolic in my eyes as the Inquisitor is framed as Mythal’s equal in emotional and narrative influence over Solas’s fate. They speak before and after her, effectively bookending the moment that changes everything.

A character granted that level of symbolic and emotional influence in Solas’ arc is not someone I feel Solas would plausibly kill at the ritual site.  

Conclusion 

All of this has been my attempt to lay the groundwork - to trace the story’s emotional and narrative architecture - behind why I believe Solas couldn’t have killed the Inquisitor at the ritual site at the beginning of Veilguard. Could he hurt them later, in a moment of desperation or collapse? Yes, there is the possibility, but I don't think intentionally, likely through an accident scenario. But in that moment at the ritual site? I don’t believe he’s in that place yet.

And there’s also this: Solas never kills Rook. Even when he manipulates them in the Fade and tries to use them to take his place, he doesn't physically harm them. At the end, he tells Rook he doesn’t want to fight them and only attacks when Rook strikes first. So to suggest he would kill a high-approval/love Inquisitor - someone he has a deeper, longer, and more emotionally complex bond with - while sparing Rook doesn’t hold up, narratively or thematically in my mind.

Call it delusional or coping - but nothing I’ve presented here is headcanon (if anyone feels it is, please point it out, happy to expand!). I’ve done my best to stay rooted in the material the games and extended lore provide. And as always, I’m open to counterpoints, things I've not considered and happy to keep the conversation going!

..........

Low Approval Inquisitor

Ok so what about a low-approval Inquisitor? The one who rarely brought Solas into the field, frequently antagonized him, or made decisions he fundamentally disagreed with? That doesn’t mean they were a bad leader necessarily. In fact, it’s entirely possible this Inquisitor maintained high approval with other companions and made principled choices. But from Solas’ perspective, that relationship never deepened into an emotional relationship. In Veilguard, he remarks that such an Inquisitor was "useful" - a cold assessment - before shifting focus to bonds that mattered to him, like his friendship with Cole.

Without shared understanding or personal rapport, this Inquisitor might register to Solas as someone capable of interfering, but not capable of reaching him. If they had approached him at the ritual in a moment of volatility - the outcome could have been very different. I can’t speak broadly, as I’ve only played a low-approval Inquisitor once, and even then it was more of an across-the-board low approval run. But I do think it’s more plausible that this Inquisitor would have been at far greater risk of sharing Varric’s fate.

That said, there’s a counterpoint worth considering. By the time of Veilguard, Solas has made efforts to minimize harm - he even helps to stop the Qunari invasion in Trespasser to preserve some peace in Thedas till the veil comes down. In that light, killing the Inquisitor might risk triggering unrest, something he seemed to want to avoid until his ritual. Whether that restraint would hold in the heat of the ritual is debatable - but it’s a possibility. I’d love to hear other perspectives on this as I know I'll think on this one further.

[arktic-rage]

honestly I absolutely love the Avvar in Jaws of Hakkon. How they worship the gods, how they view the world around them, how accepting they are and just how interesting they are too. I absolutely despise how the Inquisitor and Companions make commentary as if they're stupid or wrong in their beliefs, or that they're "just crazy people who worship spirits".

The dialogue you don't choose or even the ones you do are on the line of condescending, and it's frankly insulting, especially that all options on the dialogue wheel fall on that line.

the Avvar are so fucking cool, I hate we only get a DLC with them. (I also miss the Chasind - I wish they weren't forgotten or left in the dirt by BioWare :( )

[castor-redd]

Do YOU want a free, greyscale headshot sketch of your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor/Rook/other Dragon Age OC, or an NPC from any of the games??? Well boy do I possibly have a deal for you.

REPLY to this post with:

- The name of a character

- (Optional) Any specific things you want, like expression or angle or idk stuff like that

- For OCs specifically:

- At least one picture/link to a picture of your character I can use as a reference

- (Optional) Any notes about their appearance that may not be featured (I.e. maybe they have a scar that you can't put on them in-game or extra jewellry)

- (Optional) Tell me something or link to a blurb/bio/tag/etc. about your guy so I can read about them later :) I’ve been out of the fandom for so long that a lot of the people I used to follow have gone; it’d be nice to see what everyone’s got cooking nowadays.

BONUS if you want your sketch in colour: Send me an ask with a question from an ask game that is for/can be applied to Dragon Age. Include the link/source of the question, and mention that you’ve commented on this post. OR just ask me anything about my Dragon Age characters :) I love any chance to talk about them. Also if you do this please make sure the ref image you give me has semi-decent lighting for your character so I don’t botch their colour palette.

(A few ask games to pull from: Rook 1, Rook 2, Rook 3, Rook Origins, Warden, Warden Romance, Hawke, Hawke Romance, Inquisitor. If you’re the creator of one of these games, I’ll draw for you no matter when you post a comment, just by way of thanks :))

The first 20 folks will be guaranteed to get art; if you’re outside the first 20, I will do my best to get to you. But I have no idea what the reception to this will be, so um. I make no promises. 21? Totally feasible. 31? A little less so, but I’ll do my best :). It’s like 2am for me right now so I will probably start working on things tomorrow, and we’ll see how fast I can crank them out.

Examples of what you’ll get are below, except your art will be a little cleaner, larger, and a lot more square these were cropped out of a larger piece that was not intended to be close-up portraits, but um. My art tag is far too dusty for me to point to it for examples so sad cropping jobs it was.

(Unrelated but these are all my DA guys — two Wardens, Hawke, Inquisitor, Rook. If you ask me about them, it will make my day.)

[threepandas]

Bad End: No Question

The republic fell slowly, then all at once. Rot building like a creeping cancer, in all the places the shining lights of luxury did not touch. Festering and untreated, all while I could do nothing to stop it. I knew it was coming, could see the story unfolding, yet? Was powerless to stop it.

No one listened.

Why would they? I was just a naive child, spouting nonsense. After all, they all said, they all believed... the Republic Was Forever.

Until it was not. Until it all died. And from the bleeding, screaming, ruin? The Empire came, swallowing everything whole. Right up to the end. While in my head, I knew how the story would unfold. Had tried and tried, to no avail, helpless and small as only children can be, as the tidal wave finally hit.

Believed, even as they lay dying. Even as I watch as the people cheer, as blood ran thick in the streets, clogging the gutters. The luxurites dead. Both guilty and innocent alike. The boot heels, upon the necks of the poor, no longer. Or so their leaders proclaimed...

Easy scapegoats. Obvious targets. The villians for their narrative, pay no mind to what happens next. The money and power, the land. We are HEROS! For the PEOPLE! You can TRUST US.

Ha.

Of course.

All hail the Emperor. Wealthier then any man has ever been. Truely, we are Free.

Yes, when the revolution came, I wasn't with them, my family. My "proper" social circles. That's probably all that spared me. I would have been hunted down, otherwise. Innocent or not. Can't have any of the old power bases lingering about, after all. People might get the idea to rally. Might miss the Old, when the New loses it's shine. Child or not, we can't have THAT, now can we?

The staff and volunteers of the soup kitchen, hid me with the other children as the adults boarded up the windows and doors. I held a young mother's child, looked her in the terrified eyes and swore, on my life, that I would gaurd her daughter with my life. I remember expecting to raise that child. To never see her again. Not alive.

Remember wondering, how far I could stretch the coin, if I pawned the pretty little bits of jewelry my parents gave me. Assuming they weren't ripped right off me, the second we got out. I had plans to hide them. Begun calculations. So many little mouths to feed. We had to stick together. We MUST stick together.

Then it was over.

My "disgrace" of an uncle came for me. Found me in the near ruins of my "silly little project". He was the one who had wanted to work. Had a stable worker lover everyone knew about but no one talked about. He was covered in bit of hay. Smelled strongly of horses. His lover had grabbed him and dragged him to safety, hidden him, desperately, among the stalls.

Out of our entire House...

An entire House, once noble, now wealthy. Out of HUNDREDS of people? Built over centuries, branches upon branches, marriages and adoptions. Wards and in-laws. Newborns to lovers to elders on their deathbeds? Of them all, so few remained. And yet... I could not even blame the servants who abandoned us. Who turned on their Slave Masters in all but technicality. They had been treated so cruely, for so long.

.....but the children? What crime did they commit?

I stood in the ruins of Manor after Manor, great house after great house, and wondered. Would I let this make me a monster too? Was this anger or grief I felt? Would any of us ever be free, from the sickening rot that had crept so slowly into the hearts of these people? Both, the ones I had called kin, and the very people who killed them. But oh... there were so many bodies to bury. So, so many bodies.

Some of them... so very, terribly, small.

But as we put out embers and buried the dead? The oh so glorious empire was rising. A fat and lumberous beast, settling with already groaning bones into the still smoking pit, where the Republic lay dead. And, benevolently, the Emperor saw no reason to kill us. We were informed by pristine letter, hand delivered, as we stood smoke stained and filthy, among the pyres.

At least... thank the gods. At least my Uncle remembered.

He and I, fellow outcasts and trouble makers, he recalled my "nonsense". How it had very much come true. So he took the Emperor's letter. Smiled benignly, with the bland promise of nothing. And gently corralled us few who remained into the only remaining dining hall, to pour over the letters as a House. A Clan. Together.

He looked to me with haunted eyes... and wanted to know.

I phrased it as a vision. It would be easier to swallow that way. Not unheard of, in legend. Not out of the realm of possibility. Just absurdly, absurdly rare. But... did we not live in world shaking times? It would make sense, it felt, that the gods would at least MENTION such things...

A novel, a lifetime ago. We were hardly the Protagonists. Not related in any way. Dramatics and death would surround them. A dark age followed, supposedly, by light. But... was the real world ever so simple? I didn't know. I could name all the players. What would occur.

It would be up to US to protect ourselves.

And we WOULD need to protect ourselves. For the Empire was not a kind place. Nor fair. It was the rot of the Republic laid bare. Without pretense. And soon... the purges would begin.

I was, of course, right. The people's blood soaked victory soon gave way to dismay, as they became targets. Divided. Conquered. Inquisitors, hand chosen by his most graciousness, the Emperor himself. I held my tounge, kept my piece... and hated it. Undermined what I could. Rebuilt my soup kitchen.

Attended court.

Because, of course, all we loyal subjects MUST attend court. Don't we love our Emperor so? See how we fawn! We simper and bask in his greatness! Oh we hang on your every WORD, most royal Majesty! We are entranced! Loyal, loyal subjects, all. Such decadent parties as the people starve.

Didn't my family perish for such similar actions? But, ah, they deserved it. Of course. And THIS is for MORALE!

I sip wine looted from the Redcrest family's cellars. They were dead now. Were proud of their wines. They made them for centuries. There shall never be more bottles, yet frivolous, we drink them away. What crime did they commit? Their workers? I close my eyes and keep my smile fixed.

A pleasant expression, because everything is Fine. Remember who you fight for, survive for, you are the canary in the mine. If you go silent, they know to run. The longer you live, the more people you can help, you can do this. Remember... sometimes rebellion is refusing to die. Refusing to let them pull hope from your desperate, bleeding, claws.

Just smile.

Everything is Fine! See? We're Smiling!

"Such a lonely seat. Not going to dance? Mingle? One might think you're not having fun." Comes from behind me, the voice an almost silibant rasp, rumbling thunder and the whispered hiss of a blade. If ever there was a voice made for threats and the confession of terrible things, it was this. "But how could that be? Such a loyal servant of his Majesty would never be so divisive and disrespectful. You must surely be ill. So, tell me then, your excuse?"

The only reason I do not jump, and splash on more reminder of tragedy right down my front, in a display I can not afford, is that I freeze up. Jumping would look guilty of something. It would not matter that he walks all but silently. That I did not notice him and was startled. That it is a simple, human, reaction. Why am I so JUMPY? Guilty conscious? Perhaps an Inquisitor and I should... Talk.

And dropping my wine? Making a SCENE? Am I seeking to undermine his Majesty?

That's ON TOP of the fact, that... frankly? My House can not AFFORD to replace a wine stained dress. With his Majesty's demands for constant decadence yet performative humility, his hoarding of wealth and demands of tribute? We are barely scrapping by. Most "graciously spared" survivors are.

Not ALLOWED to become lower class. Disappear into the masses and work or live quiet, modest lives. No. We must PROVE our LOYALTY to his Majesty. Constantly. Forever. Right up until we fail and are punished for it. In a sick game, no one can ever hope to win but him.

We are to continue on, as though he did not burn the world down. Yet in revamped parody of what was. Like a social outcast, holding towns hostage, to play out "high school prom" as the MOST popular kid, forever and ever and always more. Or ELSE. Because he never grew up and never got over it. Because people didn't like him. So he'll MAKE them. Kill them if they refuse.

The fifteenth version of this dress. Lace carefully taken off and redone elsewhere, I cycle through "new dresses" and trade with allies who are about my size. Who could possibly afford to meet the man's mad demands? When we are barely feeding are own? When he has seized our assets yet will not let us work?

We are dying.

Painted in what inherited gold, silks, and jewels remain. Terrified. We are dying.

"Nothing to say? How quiet. One might think you are... afraid. But how could that be? You would know, as a loyal servant of his Majesty, that you have nothing to fear from us. No Inquisitor would harm one of the loyal subjects, of our beloved ruler. You are perfectly safe... that is, of course, assuming... you are, in fact, Loyal."

The near shifting of heavy cloth against heavy cloth, the sigh as it slid against armor, markes a deadly presence behind me. Light, almost silent, steps are nearly lost under the music, as he moves. Circling me like a hunter. I force myself to turn towards him instead of shying away. Claw control back of my instinct frozen limbs, with desperate hands. I cannot, CANNOT afford this.

"Ah, but you are sick. Headache, perhaps? The drink too strong?"

Red eyes bore into me from a silver mask. Infamous claws, on hands that have done so much, are tucked behind his back like gentleman, out on a stroll. Bone white robes, over armored black under robes. Monochromatic, blood red, and silver steel.

The Grand Inquisitor.

"Perhaps you've tired yourself. With all that dancing you did not do. So many questions. So few answers. But then, ah, I've been speaking so rudely, my dear. Talking over you. How has your evening been, hmm? Pleasant, I take it?" His voice was as light and almost charming, as a gentle hand; wrapped delicately around the throat. Not squeezing, not yet, just a simple remind that it could. If he did not like, what you had or were about to say. "Come, sit, I insist."

The smile on my face felt like it was a dam under pressure. Like my teeth could only barely held back the screaming in my head. The mask of my expression, covered in hair line fractures, only just holding together as I nodded. Followed along. Hysterical comparisons to the march before firing squads, danced in the back of my head. I shoved them back. Down and far away. I... I had to be present. Alert.

The chandelier's light caught with terrible beauty, on the brutal points of his claws. As he gestured, almost a mockery of the polite gentleman. He would be one, if not for the unspeakable things he had done. He was certainly polite. His etiquette immaculate.

Social dances. A mockery of comfort. Mock, mock, mock. His mere presence, his brutality, desecrated it all. Made profane the familiar. For who? WHO? Could break bread with the butcher of men? Could smile politely and serve them thoughtful bits of nothing? Treat them as your own? Yet... yet we were all to afraid to resist. To refuse.

Did they delight? Forcing us to welcome them, where they clearly were not wanted? Where we could not refuse them? Perverting the purpose of our traditions and our ways? Was... was it funny? Or just another tool to use against us?

Smile, dip your head, a small curtsy or bow. The guest invited sits first, serve drinks, time appropriate food if you have it. In my head I knew each step. The etiquette of the classes and why each was the way it was. He did not reach for the pitcher on the table. Merely settled back into his chair, like a throne.

Was he deliberately breaking the social norm? To create discomfort and pressure me to talk? Did he not know? His past was shrouded in mystery. Perhaps he simply did not feel like it. Who, here, could insist? Shun him for his rudeness?

I tried not to sweat, under his heavy gaze. Did not partake. Sat, back straight, my gentle mask-like smile fixed, as I stared over his shoulder. A pretty doll. Ragged and worn around the edges. Trying desperately to appear The Good And Loyal Citizen, least something... Unfortunate, happen.

"What a lovely dress." He mused into the tense silence, breaking it to brutal shards. "Yet, I can not help but notice the shade. The cut and design. Madame Signe's work, isn't it? It suits you." Everything inside me went cold. It was. But if he recognized it...

"Yet? I can not help but wonder, my dear. Why the lace is in the wrong place? You wouldn't happen to be trying to pass off that dress as something new, would you? Trying to subvert and undermine his Majesty's very clear command? That would be treasonous. And you, such a loyal subject, would never."

He knew.

I didn't know how much he knew, but he DID.

Struggling not to shake, not to give everything away, I lied. Of course, I did. Right through my teeth. I would, I had, and I promised. Straight to the end. Lie and lie, until I had nothing left in me. I know nothing, I know no one, there is nothing here to find. Lies upon lies, all while those I love flee for their lives. Praying to gods I don't think can even hear me, that it will be enough.

The slight tilt of his head somehow projected a sense of mocking indulgence. One long leg crossed the other, lounging like a warlord. The clawed gauntlets on full, gruesome display. Every part of him, from the set of his shoulders to the angle he sat, radiated amusement. As though he were watching a silly little child, playing foolish little games. Getting into mischief, then trying to hide the obvious evidence.

Was I quite done? His silence seem to say. He can wait.

I tilted my chin up with a strength and defiance I did not feel. Yes, I was done. Let come what may. I... I tried.

"So afraid, dear citizen. Acting as though I'm some sort of monster in the night, out to butcher and hunt the innocent. One might get the wrong impression. You might even hurt my feelings." He laughs, a sound that seems to roll and fall dangerously, past grinning teeth. Sharp and deadly. "But of course... I understand, I do. About your dress. You can not help it."

"After all, you have not changed a bit."

....what?

"Still compelled, against all rhyme and reason, to tend to the wretched under classes. The filth and wastrels. Beggars and whores. Instead of purchasing dresses for parties? You, oh loyal Citizen, are of course, exemplifying his Majesty's great Mercy."

That's not what... He KNOWS it's not... Where is he GOING with this?

"Yes, we must make exceptions, perhaps. Have mercy. After all... you had nothing but the best of intentions. And how can I hold that against you? When you can not help what you are? Soft and foolish. So very merciful and giving. Humane."

He dropped the word like it was a joke. Almost snide, laughter haunting the edges of it like a pack of hunting hounds. As though humanity to others, itself, was laughable. What a joke, he seemed to suggest, the mere concept of mercy. Of compassion for the sake of it.

So, why? What game was he playing? If he had to mercy to give me? Why even suggest...?

"Do you remember, the Revolution? That glorious rise, as the old fell away. As shackles were broken. As class lines no longer bound us. As we, both children, sat in the dark?"

Impossible.

No... no it... please, God, it can't....

The music was very far away. Muted, as though through blankets. Conversations becoming indistinct. Memories of stale air and dust. Packed earth beneath me and cold stone pressing against my back. The terrible, uncertain creek, of cheap woods from both the crates and ceiling above us. Everything that COULD be stacked against the doors, was.

Wondering if we would survive fire. If they, in their anger and hate, would think of it. Oh god, oh god, we were just kids-!

White hair, like bone, forever silent and staring. Never came close but showed up every time I did, they noted. A crush. Local boy, they mused. He was too thin. Bruises where there shouldn't be. Scars on skin too young. He didn't run when I went to him, but never came to me. I tried to feed him. Just one more story. So many tragedies, that I could do so little to change. All I had was soup.

"Ah~ there it is. You recognize me now. It's been so long, hasn't it, my dear?" Something pleased and horrifying, curled like spreading poison through his tone. "I am a man, grown, now. Have become quite accomplished, if I do say so myself. Wealthy, influential, well connected. Powerful. No longer weak and unworthy of your time."

"In fact," He leaned forward, as though telling a secret. Almost playful, despite the horror of his words. "It's my turn to control you. To be the powerful one. To have everything while you have nothing."

"I will admit... I have been waiting for this for a very long time. You were so beautiful. Trapped in you wretched blood bought finery, chained to the House that would keep us apart. I knew even then, that I would have you, that I was the ONLY one that could be allowed to have you. No one else. And oh, his Majesty has been so very, very obliging."

Folded papers were withdrawn from his robes. Offered almost carelessly. If it weren't for the intensity of his stare? I would believe he didn't care, how I reacted. With shaking hands. I smooth the pages as I open it. From the desk of the Emperor himself... a... a marriage contract.

"Exactly as I wanted. You'll never escape me again. Smile, my dear."

"We're getting married."

[abyssal-ilk]

solas is so interesting to me as a character because everyone seems to passively just accept that he knows Things that no one else does all of the time. he slips up a few times and there are a few moments when other characters are like 🤨 towards him, but for the most part he's able to just wave it off. it's a good thing no one ever presses him further than that bc mr liar man isn't actually that good at lying if you look at him for too long

[binabees]

Eager Pupil

+

These spot the difference images are getting pretty hard

[witsserviceablesubstitute]

I've been paying attention to Varric and Solas' relationship this go around and what I find interesting is that Varric is basically the only character Solas concedes to. I don't know if it's respect or just Varric having a way of approaching Solas that consistently puts him on the back foot. Varric is a world weary idealist who prioritizes humanity, always, and it tends to cut through Solas' pessimistic big picture thinking.

It was smart, I think, to choose Varric as the one to confront Solas and try to talk him down. He's the only character who really has a chance to. I'd even say Varric makes Solas question himself more than the Inquisitor.

[edda-grenade]

can't fucking believe i straight up forgot to post this?? anyway, more role reversal au ^^

only one of them knows they're possessed, and it ain't solas

[zoya-nazyalenskys]

my biggest critique of veilguard is why is rook the hero of the story? like literally why are all these people even listening to rook who is literally nothing but some rando? how can the organisations of minrathous/treviso (especially minrathous that has that giant magic palace in the sky) not fight off a single dragon but rook, one singular person with absolutely zero special abilities, can?

[arthmis]

this drawing of my original whitegirl inquisitor has turned ten years last month!! To celebrate I quickly redrew it 💗

[aria-tsoni]

Listen. Listen Cullen girlies. Rogue trader, Heinrix romance. You're welcome.

[biancadavri]

Why the hell would Cadash of all people not be insufferable about what went down with the red templars? Carta work is all about hitting them below the belt!! "Oooooooh Andraste's chosen can't be a lowly dwarf" "Nooo the Maker wouldn't send us a criminal" Mh? Beg your pardòn? Who did Envy Made Manifest get psychosexual with for being god's special little blorbo? You? Your orlesian ass? Eat shit swagless