sea-side-scribbles

[sea-side-scribbles]

"a soul can never be forced upon the unwilling, you were never in any danger from me" is, I think, emblematic of Mythal in a really juicy fucked up way.

We know that possession in DA requires a 'yes' in (most) circumstances. But we also know that that consent can be coerced; coerced consent is actually how 99% of demons operate.

It's probably true that Morrigan would have to say yes. But the way in which Flemeth raised her was designed to give her absolutely no choice in the matter. We see, consistently, that Flemeth emotionally abused Morrigan over and over. She kept her purposefully isolated from her peers, consistently needled and put her down, and with Morrigans mirror literally shattered a symbol of Morrigans individuality. Flemeth even has special robes for Morrigan (robes of possession) which reduce her willpower. In the fade, Morrigan says the spirit pretending to be Flemeth is acting more like her mother only when it physically slaps Morrigan suggesting a level of physical abuse.

In DAI, just before she says the famous 'you were never in any danger from me' line... Flemeth literally gives a horrid little ultimatum to Morrigan that proves just how manipulative she is. She literally says; I will take your son from you forever OR you can have him back but you'll never be safe from me as long as you live. And Morrigans response 'i will not be the mother you were to me' also points at the abusive Morrigan suffered under Flemeth.

The way in which Morrigan was raised then, was designed to create a person who would say yes, who had been groomed and emotionally (perhaps even physically) manipulated all her life for this one purpose.

Mythal seems to be characterised in a similar way; she is benevolent, the 'best' of the gods, and she believes herself to be compassionate. And yet, she kept slaves. You can drink from her well but once you do your bound to her will and will do anything she says. She sees herself as the good one, good to the people, but she's still willing to use them.

To reduce Flemeth down to a loving mother who never meant anything bad for Morrigan because of a single line she says (which itself is a manipulation) is to deny a lot of depth to Flemeth, Morrigan and Mythal.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Solas wakes up in the strange new world of his own making and it terrifies him. Ridden with guilt, he joins the Inquisition and begins his lonely research in order to correct his mistake.

He doesn’t expect to find consolation in the presence of a human who wields ancient elven magic without knowing it. Who is way too gentle for an elgar’thanelan, but doesn’t know that either.

Solas, for his part, doesn’t know how to stay away.

Dorian wonders if the mysterious elf just enjoys playing with a Tevinter. He wouldn’t expect anything else.

_____________________

Chapter 1- 13 | Right after uthenera, Solas is found by a Dalish clan. This goes well until it doesn’t. (Basically my excuse for world building and hilarious misunderstandings.)

Chapter 14 | Solas joins the Inquisition.

Chapter 20 | Dorian appears in Haven.

Chapter 67

All was lost. Other than regret, Solas felt anger at himself. Ellana Lavellan, who was meant to be their saviour, tumbled into the abyss because of an amateurish spell he hadn't seen coming. He fell with her, holding her by the arm. Useless. His last try to do something right, and it ended like this.

Pressed against his chest was the man he had doomed alongside him. If only he hadn't taken his hand. He could've been still up on the battlements, escaping the danger. It didn't comfort him that his duty to save the Inquisitor required to accept help. He knew there had been the foolish notion that especially Dorian Pavus could save him. Everything had been a mistake.

Then a flash of green light blinded him and his fall changed its nature drastically.

Suddenly he had the feeling to fall upwards, into the sky. And indeed, instead of the dark abyss, a vast sky spread before him. Under him. Everywhere.

He felt lighter now, a little dizzy as well. Diving into the sky, he knew he had to stop his fall. Promptly, the world turned around, shifting the land until it ended up below him. He began to sink slowly, head first, and came to levitate above the ground.

Carefully, he pressed both hands against the ground. Gravity began to pull at him, so he lowered his legs until his feet touched ground. Crouching on his knees, he lifted his head, needing a while to adjust to the turn. The sky was finally above him, wide, hazy and tinted green. Sensing the gravel under his fingers, he realized he was alone. But he couldn't remember letting go of his companions.

He didn't remember hitting the ground either. Certainly, the green light had stopped his fall, emanating from Ellana's hand. She must've created a rift and he fell through. Now he was in the fade - physically. It shouldn't be possible.

He took in the view, the towering, black rocks and castle ruins, like severed parts of Adamant Fortress. The stone was brought to glitter by waterfalls flowing into a large pond that lay silent before him. Tiny particles of dust floated in the air. And in the sky, he faced the Black City, closer than ever before. Despite this, its pulse felt differently, muffled, as if his ears were under water.

If he was here physically, the fade would indeed react differently to his presence, he mused. But how exactly?

He got up and conjured a small piece of ice in his hand. His body's warmth made it melt immediately. Otherwise, his magic worked as if he was awake. Closing his eyes, he tried to sense the fade. It didn't feel like it should, as if someone had cut their connection. He couldn't make the stones grow a bridge over the water for him. He couldn't even cluster the tiny floating particles into a ball. Unless he used a spell.

Letting the dust trickle from his fingers, he felt...fascinated.

He would study this if he had the time.

Did he not?

Was he alone here?

He remembered the demon he had seen through the rift. The one the mages had tried to pull out of the fade. How Clarel had been supposed to withstand this epitome of terror, he couldn't say. She must've never meant to be a worthy host.

At last, the fade reacted. A deep voice growled from the very core of this realm, mocking and ready to strike. “So, this is the dreaded rebel wolf. Am I supposed to be...afraid? Once again you are alone, mourning the friends you abandoned. But perhaps I should say allies. The rebel wolf has no friends.”

Solas searched about, but the demon didn't confront him. It was concealed in every piece of this place, which was its own creation. This must've been a very old creature, spread from the most ancient feeling. “Demeaning yourself to taunts?”, he answered calmly. “You must truly be worried.” He stepped closer to the edge of the land, where the sky spread into all directions. In the distance, he spotted a rift. It looked like a small Breach, surrounded by swirling clouds. A piece of land led to it, barely visible in the haze. Perhaps it would provide an exit.

“So proud, so wise”, the voice cooed. “So....many fears inside you. For so many ages. Why uphold the struggle? I could take them from you, every single one. All you need to do is open.” The demon's voice cradled him now, but its claws were ready. It feasted from all the fear on the battlefield, but its hunger would never be sated. “If you take my fears from me, I will be your nightmare”, Solas said. He earned a laugh.

“Ah, this is refreshing. I haven't met true pride in a long while. Bodies are so dull. You sure know. I could help you with that, too.” Solas looked down, where the sky proceeded into an unknown void. What would he find down there? “I could do it myself if I wanted”, he answered. “Are you sure?” It snickered. “No you're not. See, I could make it all go away.” “Too soon.” Solas began to walk back, approaching the pond. “I will help you in a different way. You may thank me later.”

“Still so loyal to your kin. Only not quite certain, what it is.” This amused the demon as well. Solas stepped into the water, silently. “Do you realize that with me, you would be stronger than any of these bodies could imagine? You would command an army they could not dream to defeat. You would reclaim your power. The world would be yours.” Solas felt the cold water on his skin. The pond was shallow, he'd be able to walk through. “Naughty little slave”, he tutted. “What would your master say?” This struck a nerve. “The fool is wielding power beyond his control!”, the demon snarled. “You and I, we know this better than anyone else! We would crush him and the blight altogether! Then, you could pride yourself a saviour.”

Solas shook his head. “The blight is not defeated by power.” “Yet it was your power that banished it.” “Power I controlled and steered into the right direction.” “So we could do the same.” “Unlikely. You are aimless and unreliable, driven only by your hunger for terror. You would seek to inflict it in everyone, no matter the result. You need a master like Corypheus to render you useful.” The demon paused for a moment. “You are my guest, pride and I'm a generous host. I will forgive you your hubris if you apologize.” Solas sighed. “Forgive me, kin. I am not interested. If you could tell me where my allies are, I would be more grateful.”

Instead of an answer, a figure appeared at the shore, clad in dark robes, floating in mid air and with claws growing from its back. Like spider legs, they moved in the air, sensing potential prey. “Your only ally is me”, the demon growled. “Don't you recognize me, rebel wolf?” Solas stood still, not allowing himself any visible reaction. “You do”, the demon sighed, relishing the moment. “I can feel your fear. Give it to me. Why hold on to it? He'd be gone and there'd only be us.” “You are but a shallow imitation of him”, Solas replied. “Oh, but I'm perfect. I'm like you. You'd never have to fear anything.” “You are truly asking for your own demise, kin. Is your hunger so ravenous that you cannot think?”

The demon managed a pout in this form. Then it turned again. “I realize you prefer this shape. My mistake. There are so many terrors in your head. Poor thing. How do you get along?” Solas swallowed hard as flames emerged from the new figure. The demon wore a smirk that was all too familiar under a twirled moustache. His voice dripped with honey. “This is better, yes?”, he asked triumphantly. Solas' anger came back. “You cannot hope to be anything like him! You're an insult to the eyes!”, he snapped. “Really? I think this is more earnest than everything you allow your own eyes to see.” The demon played with a tongue of flame and regarded it adoringly. “He is not like this.”

The demon laughed again. It sounded terribly wrong with this voice. “My poor, misguided kin. He's exactly that. You know it, you're hiding from him.” “I am hiding for a different reason.” “You don't believe your own words. Oh, pride, this is worse than I thought.” He floated above the water, towards him. Solas clenched his fists, not moving an inch. “The sooner your realize this, the less you will suffer. Set yourself free, my caged wolf. Offer me your nightmares.” Solas averted his eyes. “My answer is no.” Suddenly, the figure disappeared. “So be it”, the demon snarled. “Remain weak and afraid. See if you find company like this. When my realm has humbled you, you will plead for my aid.”

Solas quickened his steps, wading towards the shore. The water splashed quietly around his ankles.

If the others were here and had to face the demon...

He could only hope they ever listened to his advice.

The thought had been a mere spark in her mind. A light in the dark, so to speak, blissfully ignorant of its consequences. The mark had responded, as if eager to please.

The entire time it had trickled with the mages' power. Leftovers of the spell she had cast had kept her on her toes during the battle. The longer she bore the mark, the more it acted like a part of her. An additional limb that was growing onto her body and learned to walk.

When the rift opened under her, it was either this or certain death.

She expected it to feel like diving into cold water, unpleasant and pressing against her lungs. Instead, she felt close to nothing. The typical smell of a rift engulfed her shortly. A second later, she hung in a void. A green nothingness, only a few black rocks floating out of reach. It span too fast for her liking. Or was she the spinning one? She had no control over her fall.

Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on her mark. “Stop this!”, she muttered. “Stop it now!” The mark trickled, but didn't react. She opened her eyes again and found a large piece of land in front of her, coming closer. Inviting her to become a speck of blood and shattered bones on its surface. “Oh, Dread Wolf take me...”

She grabbed the hilt of her arcane blade and managed to conjure a barrier around her. Relieved that her magic still worked, she braced for the impact. But instead of crashing against the rock, she began to fall slower, without her own doing. Eventually, she halted inches before it. Nothing else happened. After waiting long enough for her liking, she scratched the gravel with her finger – and dropped flat onto her belly. The dust that scattered around her made her cough while sudden gravity pulled at her. The ground she lay on...It seemed to be underneath her. And the void she had travelled through before, was above. A sort of sky.

She had never experienced the fade like this. And she was glad. Demons were tricky enough, without her trying to figure out where to put her feet. A rock helped her get up, as wobbly as she was. Rocks and gravel, puddles and ruins...that was all she could see. A waterfall splashed in the distance, sparkling in the light that came from nowhere. The rocks glittered wet. A reflex made her look up, expecting rain.

She slapped her forehead. Focus! She had used the outerworldly mark to open a rift for them to survive. She was in the fade. Her friends should've been here, too. She needed to find them and get out of here. Perhaps they landed on a different rock?

She made her first steps. The crunching of stones under her feet sounded unnatural. They felt real, but in this endless space, the noise seemed to come from everywhere. Unwillingly, she stroked her hand that bore the mark. This place was so empty. And she felt so small in it. Unnatural wind drew through her messy hair, carrying no smell with it. This wasn't like the forest with its different scents, where she could find the way with her eyes closed. This land just wasn't real.

She wondered what Deshanna would say to this. Her story became more and more unbelievable.

The fade had only one other sound. A hum. Deep, but not like a voice. Rhythmic, but not like a drum. She didn't like it one bit. It was the only noise that seemed to come from a direction. Looking up, she scanned the eerie sky. When she found it, she almost tripped. It was a large, sharp piece of land, like a thorn in the sky. And on it, she recognized buildings. Towers. Tall and pointy, just more thorns on a thorn. A cactus.

The thought pressed a giggle from her lungs. A giant black cactus in the sky. Things you only see in the fade.

But she knew fabled Black City – she had heard too much about it in the last months. She had heard it from Corypheus again. But seeing it for real... Nobody knew if it had ever been golden or if the Maker had been there, but... Hearing that sound, she could imagine people would regard it as the core of all evil.

Regarding her mark again, she thought that this was less and less likely an accident. Somewhere in that strange power lay an answer to these questions. And someone wanted her to find this answer. All that excessive worshipping and kneeling before her aside, these people might feel that there was some invisible reason to all this, just like her. She felt it like she felt her clan, when a Sylvan was about to appear. Magic left traces. Fate left traces. That's why she had to move on. She would find the others and kick every demon's ass if she had to.

With that new determination, she proceeded forward. As chance would have it, a light appeared right in front of her and she stopped again. With her blade ready. Because this was a bit too much. Would that be the Maker himself now?

The light indeed grew into a person, but it didn't look much like a resentful god. More like a cleric, dressed in red, white and golden robes, illustrating the all-seeing eye on her chest. Her bonnet was the tallest Ellana had ever seen, symbolizing golden light shining from her head. “I greet you, Inquisitor”, she said in an Orlesian accent. Nearing her, Ellana recognized her as an elderly woman. “An'daran Atish'an, hahren”, she said quenching her blade. It could be a well-meaning spirit, after all. “It has been a while since you saw my likeness, no?” The woman remained polite. “I am glad to see you fared well.” Ellana squinted. Then her eyes widened.

A glowing figure in the fade. Of course.

“Are you...Andraste?” The woman smiled faintly. “I am here to help you. You may call me Justinia.” “Justinia...Divine Justinia?” Cassandra and Leliana had hammered that name into her memory. “You do not remember what happened at the Temple Of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor?” Justinia ignored her question. “I...don't. But do you?” “I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that serves Corypheus.” Ellana processed that new information. “Corypheus has many demons right now. Which one do you mean?.” “The demon that controls this realm. It is the Nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work.”

That meant she shared this realm with a demon called Nightmare right now. That scared and controlled the Wardens. “So if I defeat this demon, the Calling will end and Corypheus will lose his demon army?” “I know not how he commands his army of demons. His power may come from the blight itself. But the Nightmare serves willingly, for Corypheus has brought much terror to this world. He was one of the Magisters who unleashed the First Blight upon the world, was he not? Every child’s cry as the Archdemon circles, every dwarf’s whimper in the Deep Roads…the Nightmare has fed well.” Ellana remembered the many eyes behind the rift.

“Thank you for the warning, Justinia. Do you have any advice on how to defeat it?” “You best escape the fade and lead your people against Corypheus.” “Oh. It's that hopeless?” “Hope springs eternal. I am here to help you escape. But before you do anything, you have to recover your memories. I can summon the creatures that guard them, but you have to defeat them yourself.” So, she needed her blade after all. But who could be afraid when a god was on their side? “Bring them in, then. I'm ready.”

The place filled with wraiths, reminding her of the ones she had met in Adamant Fortress. As remnants of destroyed demons, they were slow and relied on one type of attack. Their strength was their quantity. Ellana rolled forward, dodging the energy bolts that hissed and zapped in the air, calling for the earth. Indeed, roots grew from the dead rocks, serving her as a barrier against one side of the swarm. Propelling herself forward, she drew her blade through the first wraith. The rune in her hilt froze it in place. She swung two times more until it shattered, leaving green fog that quickly dissipated. Spinning away from another energy blast, she cut into the next one. One disgusting creature at a time.

The style reminded her of the dances she performed at holidays. Commander Helaine had encouraged her to incorporate the moves she already knew. One doesn't easily become a sword-wielder, having been trained as Keeper since birth. But when she had heard from an elven trainer that Knight Enchanters were originally elves, there hadn't been a better choice for her. These days, there wasn't much she couldn't do anyway, other than avoiding mind-blowing encounters.

When all the wraiths had turned into dissolving clouds, one tiny ball of light remained. Her memory? She extended her hand to pick it from the ground. It felt cold on her palm, then it grew and swallowed her.

”Somebody, help me!” She heard the voice cry from the dungeons. She had sought to hide down here, keep away from the shemlen until the Conclave began, but now she couldn't ignore the desperate call. Down the stairs she ran. Smashed a door open. What she found made her blood run cold. A monster stood in the room. Red crystals broke through its flesh. It's fingers were long, sharp claws. A demon?

Someone floated next to it, rendered immobile by magic. That person needed help, indeed.

She had a split-second to take it all in. The monster got distracted, staring at her with insanity in its eyes. Then the person struck quickly, wiped something out of its hand. It hit the floor and rolled into her direction. It was something the monster had used. It shouldn't take it back. In the heat of the moment, she stopped the ball with one hand.

Then she realized it had been a mistake. It's power burned her, ate into her flesh. She screamed in pain. The monster came for her and she was rendered immobile, with no air left in her lungs to scream. The thing in her hand summoned more and more energy. Before the monster could get to her, it released a blast that bathed the entire chamber in blazing, white light.

Next, she found herself climbing up a rock, way too slowly. Her hand hurt as if she cut herself, but there was no blood. Hissing creatures followed her. She heard the pattering of too many legs. Soon, they'd reach her. The woman that had been in the chamber with her stood at the rim, offering her hand.

They ran towards a rift. The woman was out of breath, slowed her steps. Ellana turned back to help her, didn't let go when the demons caught her in their grip. The woman only whispered one word. “Go.” Then she let herself be taken. Her body was mercilessly dragged down the rock, into the demons' jaws that waited below. Ellana stood dumbstruck for a moment, before she ran to save her own life.

She woke up gasping for air. Remembering that her hand burned, she curled her fingers. But they were fine, apart from the mark. She felt like waking up from a long sleep. The piece of her was finally back and it made her see so much clearer.

“You were in the fade with me! You saved me!”, she blurted out. “Yes.” “It wasn't Andraste!” “I see the Maker in everything. But is He real? Is His will made manifest? Of this, none can be certain.” Ellana sucked in the air. “Just tell me I caused the explosion and get this over with.” “All I can say is that the Maker might have wanted you exactly where you are now.” “As a fraud!”, she spat. “You know, all the time I resented the humans for thinking an elf would be guilty for their crime, but in the end, it was the elf, right? It was me! Because I messed with things that weren't my business!” “Have you not disturbed a dangerous ritual?” “I don't know. The people in the temple could still be alive.” “And did you not steal the mark from Corypheus?”

“Right. The Holy Mark of Andraste.” She snorted. “Just some Tevinter weapon that I don't know how to use. Can you tell me anything about it? What did Corypheus try to do with it?” “It is the needle that passes through the veil, as little else can. You are the thread. And it is the key that locks or unlocks a door to the fade. It lets you walk in the fade physically and survive. Corypheus intended to walk into the Black City and declare himself a god. Without it, he must find another way. It is part of you now, and cannot be removed without your death.” “Oh, wonderful. So this mark of shame will always be on me. I can never go home.” “Without fear, and pain, and failure, we cannot learn. We cannot grow. You could not grow until you recovered all that was taken from you.” “Certainly”, she muttered. “You saved me from becoming an even bigger fool than I already am.”

Justinia remained calm, all the graceful cleric. “Now, it is time to recover your people.” Ellana sighed. “The people I banished into the fade, yes. I hope they're still alive.” “One of them is nearby. If you follow me, you can find them.” Ellana stared at her. “Who are you really? A spirit?” “I am here to help you”, Justinia repeated herself. This tugged gently at her lips. “That's what Cole would say, too. I should thank you then”, she added more bitterly. “Lead the way.” Justinia nodded and went on.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Solas wakes up in the strange new world of his own making and it terrifies him. Ridden with guilt, he joins the Inquisition and begins his lonely research in order to correct his mistake.

He doesn’t expect to find consolation in the presence of a human who wields ancient elven magic without knowing it. Who is way too gentle for an elgar’thanelan, but doesn’t know that either.

Solas, for his part, doesn’t know how to stay away.

Dorian wonders if the mysterious elf just enjoys playing with a Tevinter. He wouldn’t expect anything else.

_____________________

Chapter 1- 13 | Right after uthenera, Solas is found by a Dalish clan. This goes well until it doesn’t. (Basically my excuse for world building and hilarious misunderstandings.)

Chapter 14 | Solas joins the Inquisition.

Chapter 20 | Dorian appears in Haven.

Chapter 66

There was a way too long, eerie moment, when the battering ram rolled slowly forward, pushed through the sand by sweating, heavily armoured soldiers. It manoeuvred around the rocks with no sound but the creaking of strained wood and the heavy breathing of tired lungs. Ladders waited, prepared to enter the high battlements of Adamant. All the while, the fortress towered over them even from far away. Its long, black shadow swallowed them, albeit providing a nice breath of fresh air.

Dorian and his companions were chosen as Ellana's bodyguards. He walked behind her with Madame de Fer and Solas, staff raised. All mages sustained a barrier to protect the army. They were thousands of people, ready to give their life for this cause. Dorian' eyes should've been adjusted to the view, but it was still dazzling. He had never been a soldier and surely didn't think of becoming one. Fighting in such a large mass with barely any overview of what was happening. Being certain that many of them wouldn't make it. He preferred the small party they usually were. They could protect each other. Certainly, he would have to give his life for the Inquisitor, should the occasion appear. This however, felt more familiar.

No other soul was there, just them. A large army alone in the desert, as if going for a stroll. He exchanged glances with his fellow mages, both not known for showing much emotion in their faces. But he caught the dimples forming on their brows.

Dorian pictured the fortress abandoned, except for the torn bodies of the poor fools that didn't survive the binding. Piles of such corpses, actually. And the idea that all their efforts came too late.

The figure that appeared in the distance was a relief. It grew out of the sand. Its glow gave it away. Dorian still had to squint at it.

It was a hunched thing, bobbing up and down as if it waited. Then, it sank down again and slithered into their direction. A little bulk in the ground. Soon, more such bulks came along, as if the sand was moving. Rage demons, Dorian thought, feeding off the heat.

Then everything happened quickly. The first waves of fire hit their barrier, roaring and hissing, while the archers got ready to fight back. More creatures appeared all around them. Demons didn't need walking, after all. They popped up and disappeared as they pleased. Despair demons floated above their heads, threatening the barrier with frozen projectiles.

The sky darkened with hostile arrows when the battlements of Adamant weren't so empty any longer. Cullen barked orders, their trebuchets fired, sending the first explosive missiles in the enemy's direction. The mages began to chant incantations while Ellana lifted her hand that started to glow brighter. Muttering the spell, Dorian couldn't imagine how it felt, having a whole army channel their power into her body alone.

With a bloodcurdling cry, she released a blast of energy that ran right through Dorian's veins. Suddenly, he felt lighter, cooler and his mana prickled under his skin. He stretched, laughing in relief. Only Sera mumbled curses, while releasing arrow after arrow into the demons. The mages simultaneously focused healing spells at Ellana. The plan had worked out, and now she pressed her hand to her chest, bent over. The sight choked his laughter. How often could she do this for them?, he worried. Sacrificing herself for the cause? Solas hurried to her, taking her hand. That was all Dorian saw before the enemies demanded attention.

He was surprised by his instincts that kicked in. His body felt as if a blockade finally broke. With the new power, he whirled his staff over his head, burning hotter than the sand under his feet, giving despair a real reason to whine.

Inch by inch, the army neared the fortress. Cullen's voice was carried over the field. Not every soldier could stay behind the barrier. The demons became many, a dark horde of buzzing insects, constantly changing formation. They picked people up, hacked into their flesh, let blood spray their comrades. Dorian's adrenaline kept his blood from freezing at the sight.

Giant pride demons stalked the edges of the barrier, tearing into every poor sod that stuck a limb outside. But boosted by Ellana's mark, the soldiers were resilient, and every bleeding demon corpse lifted Dorian's spirits. His orders were clear. To stay with Ellana and follow her into the fortress once it opened. There was the tiny hope that Commander Clarel could be swayed by hearing the truth. Blackwall had been especially fond of that plan.

The Warden and Varric had been unexpected company for Dorian until the lineup had separated them, putting Blackwall in front of the Inquisitor with Cassandra and Bull, and Varric behind her. It had begun with Varric giving him a wink and a "Ready to do wonders again, Sparkler?" Blackwall hadn't been far away, strangely insistent to stay by his side despite his bickering. It had turned out they considered each other a sort of miracle working party in the Inquisition. And in an odd way, they had motivated Dorian. Although the miracle had most likely been Ellana's doing.

Now fighting the horde, he caught a glimpse of his comrades from time to time. And Solas was close, thankfully protected under the barrier, fighting as if he had been waiting for this his entire life. Strong and proud despite everything. Dorian liked to imagine that some of that was his own doing. He knew that their sweetness had kept him warm in the cold desert nights.

His mood really took a turn when the army reached the Warden's mages. Witnessing them shook Dorian more than the demons. There were hundreds of them, who once had been people. Now they looked absent-minded, with glowing eyes, moving like puppets on strings. They had a barrier, but their main focus lay on controlling the demons. Fiona shouted over the humming and zapping of spells. Dorian understood, taking down the barrier was the quickest way to end this. And to slaughtering all those people... Rage filled him, because why did these idiots always end the same way? Why was it always Blood Magic and demons that had to be the solution for everything? It never worked out!

Then his attention was drawn back to the demons above him that needed to be brought down. Ellana's mark had recovered. He saw her opening a rift that sucked in multiple wraiths at once. He felt a little dizzy after that. Considering everything that happened here, the veil must've looked like Fereldan cheese by now. His thoughts wandered back to Solas, made him check on him with a short glance. They would protect each other, but the Herald was their priority. Dorian understood this logically, but he couldn't see himself abandoning him.

An ear-shattering sound almost swept him off his feet. The battering ram finally knocked at Adamant's gate while the trebuchets ground off the walls and tore into the archers on the battlements. Then the ladders were lifted. Soldiers climbed, struggled, fell. Dorian wasn't sure who's side was falling. The screams sounded all the same. He was just pulling the sharp end of his staff out of a twitching demon body, when the gate gave in. He almost didn't hear it, his ears still rang. He only noticed the narrow gap the deformed doors had created. Inquisition soldiers felled whoever came out, their quickly moving blades were really everything Dorian could see.

“The gate is open!”, Ellana shouted shortly after. “Follow me!” They didn't lose any time, working their way through a group of rage demons and Warden mages. “Stop this madness!”, Blackwall tried to reason with them. Perhaps not so convincing while covered in blood of their brethren. “We aren't your enemies!” He grabbed one of them by the arms and shook him. The man punched him away with the pummel of his sword, nothing but disgust in his face. Bull was there to catch his comrade. “Don't think he believes you.” The hostile Warden met Ellana's arcane blade and so this conversation was over.

Ellana gasped, full of blood, wiping her hair back. “And those are the honourable Grey Wardens”, she spat. “Even us Dalish respected them.” “They believe they're ending the blight”, Blackwall urged. “Please, it's not too late for them.” Stroud came through the gate, with features distorted in a grim expression. “Good, the path is clear”, he stated. “Hawke is helping out on the battlements. Too many demons up there, we can't get a foothold.” Ellana gave him a firm nod. “Then we get there and take care of them.” So they had a new goal.

Just then Dorian realized, they were finally inside. And alive. All of them. Rubble lay everywhere around them. Corpses, too. Whatever flammable material in the yard was on fire. But they still stood.

With Stroud by their side, they went through an archway, deeper into the building. They encountered a small group of Wardens that was surprised by their arrival. They didn't seem to be in their right senses, not only because of their plan, but because they weren't much aware of their surroundings. The breaking of their gate should've summoned them all to the entrance, but this little group hadn't moved. They really focalized everything they had on the demons. Too bad for them.

Behind another gate, a fight was already going on between mages, their demons and the other Wardens, surprisingly enough. Voices pleaded. Someone shouted: “Stay back! We will not be sacrificed for some insane ritual!” “Finally someone gets it”, Varric muttered into Bianca. “Spare every Warden you can”, Ellana decided, making Blackwall smile amidst the mess. The Inquisition made quite the entrance and together with the other Wardens, the mages were quickly defeated. Their new Warden friends, however, weren't so trustful. “Keep your distance!”, the same man shouted at Ellana, holding the tip of his blade towards her.

Stroud planted himself in front of him, ignoring the weapon. “Warden Chernoff, we are not enemies.” Chernoff, seemingly the leader of these deserters, ducked, but with defiance in his eyes. “Why should I trust you, Stroud? You're a traitor to the Wardens! Clarel called for your death!” “Don’t be a fool!”, Blackwall boomed, causing the man to wince. “Clarel is out of her senses if she thinks she's stopping the blight with this! We’re not demanding your surrender. Just fall back and let us deal with her!” Chernoff grew more insecure, but withstood. “She said you're here to destroy us...” “She destroys you all by herself”, Ellana pointed out. “We have to stop her. If you keep out of this, we won't harm you.” The combined voices of reason tamed the man. “Alright”, he backtracked. “My men will stay back. We want no part in this. Deal with Clarel if you must.”

Meeting somewhat sensible Wardens raised Dorian's spirits while they ventured deeper into the fortress. The staircase inside was completely empty, to his surprise. Nobody counted on their intrusion. Having Ellana's mark on their side truly did wonders.

The battlements weren't quite so peaceful. Their own explosive missiles flew over their heads, setting everything flammable on fire. Soldiers ran back and forth, either defending or entering the fortress. A man fell dead right to their feet. A giant rage demon kept their soldiers occupied. Dorian recognized it was a stronger variant that had been well-fed by the ongoing battle. “We must hurry!”, Solas shouted suddenly. He had been quiet the entire time. “Our forces cannot stand against the demons for long!” “Naturally. Soldiers get tired, demons not so much”, Dorian answered, rather to converse with him than anything else. Cassandra, Blackwall, Ellana and Bull began to slice into it, gasping when the heat singed their skin. Solas' and Vivienne's ice came like a fresh summer rain.

The soldiers' gratitude was somewhat of a plaster on their wounds, then they pressed on, taking out one archer after the other. Dorian's blood pounded in his veins as he called for the spirits in the area. There were at least hundreds, attracted by the corpses, the demons and the battle. The veil was irritated, constantly stretched and ripped apart. He knew he couldn't do this very often in here. He didn't see Solas wield much fade matter either. But their soldiers needed their help.

On the other side of the battlements, he recognised the thorny shape of a pride demon. Also, he heard the Champion of Kirkwall utter his disgust about Blood Mages. “Hawke!”, Varric gave back and the man began to work his way towards them, daggers swirling in the air. There wasn't much time to talk since they had to dodge the electric whip that swept the floor and every soul that wasn't careful. Ellana opened a rift directly behind it, tearing at its energy.

“Inquisitor, always a pleasure.” Hawke bowed exaggeratedly when they had time to catch their breath. “Hawke, good to see you”, she gave back, sounding sincerely relieved. “Any sight of Clarel yet?” “Not on this side of the battlements. She must be further east, together with a host of mages and demons. Sounds like she's having fun.” “Oh, finally more of those”, Varric commented. Ellana turned serious again. “Then let's clear the battlements for good and stop her.” “Sounds great.”

After a while, it seemed like those battlements were endless. They surpassed Skyhold easily. A pride demon was their reward on the other side, laughing at their approach. When this monstrosity finally crumbled into shards, they had to continue with shades. Dorian panted now. Ellana's spell was certainly wearing out. Then off through a door, into another yard and a second door. This truly was a maze.

At last, they came to witness a show. A Warden, supposedly Commander Clarel, sliced a man's throat. A greasy mage spotted the new spectators. “Stop them!”, he ordered. “We must complete the ritual!” Ellana held her party up with one hand, then approached the merry group of insane Wardens. “Clarel! If you complete that ritual, you're playing into Erimond's hands!” Her voice echoed from the walls. The greasy man, supposedly Erimond, only had a sneer for her. “And what does that mean? Fighting the blight? Keeping the world safe from darkspawn? A game that everyone wins. And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty.” So that was the evil magister from Tevinter. A disgrace, truly. Someone had to give this man a conditioner.

“We make the sacrifices no one else will”, Clarel agreed with him. “Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them!” “And then your Tevinter ally binds the mages to Corypheus!”, Stroud brought the news. Finally, there was doubt creeping into Clarel's demeanour. “Corypheus? But he's dead.” “These people would do anything to shake your confidence, Clarel”, the magister whispered into her ear like a demon on her shoulder. She silenced, struggling with her doubts for what felt like an eternity. Everyone hung on her lips. “Bring it through”, was her decision.

Dorian's attention went to the mages. They pulled at a rift, so it seemed. Green energy surrounded them, bolts sprayed from their hands. On the other side, all he could make out were way too many eyes. What were they trying to bring through?

“Please, I have seen more than my share of blood magic, it's never worth the cost!”, Hawke didn't seem to want to know, either. “I trained half of you myself! Do not make me kill you to stop this madness!”, Stroud urged them. Erimond ignored them, of course. “Be ready with the ritual, Clarel. This demon is truly worthy of your strength.”

“This can't be happening”, Blackwall muttered, shaken more by this than by the demon behind the veil. Ellana turned to him. “Then say it, Warden Blackwall.” So he stepped forward and let it all out: “You don’t know me, but you may have heard my name. Like you, I’ve given my life to the Grey Wardens. The first time I put on this armour, I felt like I belonged, like I was part of something honourable, something with a purpose. I know how good that feels. How safe. But fighting and dying here today won’t stop the Blight. If you want to stop the Blight, kill that bastard up there! His master is the living embodiment of its corruption!” That was straight to the point. Dorian would congratulate him for the impromptu speech if such celebrations wouldn't have been tasteless in this situation.

The Wardens looked stricken as well. They turned their heads to their Commander and her doubts were plain on her face. Yet the demon next to her didn't give up. “Clarel, we've come so far. You're the only one who can do this.” “Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges, to avoid more bloodshed”, she offered. At last, some reason. Tevinter's disgrace wasn't pleased. He left her side. “Or perhaps I should bring a more reliable ally.” His staff hit the ground. One. Two. Three. “My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor! He sent me this to welcome you!” A second later, Dorian heard the familiar shriek and the flapping of massive wings.

Corypheus' dragon entered Adamant, smashing statues off the walls with its body alone until it landed on a tower. This display convinced Clarel completely. Erimond had turned his back towards her, admiring the beast. She attacked him from behind. He slumped to the ground without resistance, truly a disgrace. Then she aimed spells at the dragon. Unimpressed, it sent a wave of red lyrium her way. Or whatever it was the thing spat. Clarel dodged it, then she finally gave the long awaited order: “Help the Inquisitor!”

Now, everything had changed. The Wardens were their allies, as hoped, but the goal was to keep the dragon from killing everyone. Which had always worked so wonderfully. And the mages remained under control, summoning demons and being an overall pest. “How do we get out of here?”, Varric shouted. “Clarel went that way”, Dorian pointed up a row of stairs. “Care to wager whether she enjoyed meeting her new god?” Nobody did, as expected.

On the battlements again, they came just in time to witness the thing stick its ugly head through the arcades and filling the air with its disgusting red breath. It sounded like shattering glass as it hit the walls. And them. Blackwall, Cassandra and Bull got the most of it, cussing and tearing off sizzling pieces of armour. Solas worked a healing spell on them and they said they were ready to move on. This had been close. Without a roof over their heads, they had to constantly dodge the dragon's breath.

They found Clarel out in the open, without protection, dealing with Erimond. It looked like she was winning. She knocked him to the ground as she had done before. But the dragon didn't have it this time. It snatched her from the ground and shook her like a dog would a squeaky toy. Dorian could barely look at it. When it threw her away, he was sure to see a pile of mush and bones. But the woman was still in one piece, landing at their feet. The dragon's giant fangs now pointed at them.

Clarel crawled forward, alive by Maker's will alone. The dragon's claws avoided her by inches. Bolts began to flash around her hand. When she was right under it, she rolled on to her back and released a blast of electricity into the beast's belly. The outburst knocked every single person in close proximity off their feet. The entire structure collapsed. Shrieking and lashing out, the dragon's heavy body slipped, unable to hold itself up. It tumbled into the chasm.

Dorian was still gaping at the scene when he noticed the building gave in right under him. He struggled up and moved as fast as he could. But Ellana stood closest to the chasm and the ground cracked in front of her, threatening to take her with it. He darted backwards, but Solas was closer, catching her arm. Then he struggled as well. Dorian's heart almost stopped at the sight. Seconds later, he was at their side, grabbing Solas' hand to pull them up. The blighted ground didn't hold out for him either, as if the Maker's blessing had run out for today. His blood pumped, his mana was exhausted and he felt the mark's spell lose it's grip. The chasm grew, the darkness ready to swallow them whole. He looked into Solas' eyes, lips parting for a silent apology. A tight hand caught his arm then and he stared into the black eyes of Cassandra Pentaghast. “Move!”, she shouted. So he did.

With a last burst of adrenaline, he climbed up the rubble. It felt wonderful, to hold his friends and believing in the Maker's blessing. A large stone tile came to spoil the fun. It rammed into Cassandra, she flew against him, her head hitting him harder than her armour, and he landed right in Solas' arms.

His stomach felt strange in free fall. One last wave of protest overcame him. They've been so close to saving the world. Pictures of the blighted future appeared in his mind. That was what would happen now, with nobody to turn back time. Alexius' crumbled face sneered. 'I told you so.' But Solas held him still. It wasn't a bad way to die. Perhaps that was all that mattered.

[sea-side-scribbles]

he's literally nice...

[sea-side-scribbles]

Humble apostate

[sea-side-scribbles]

why this guy so bad at keeping his clothes on...

[sea-side-scribbles]

Solas wakes up in the strange new world of his own making and it terrifies him. Ridden with guilt, he joins the Inquisition and begins his lonely research in order to correct his mistake.

He doesn’t expect to find consolation in the presence of a human who wields ancient elven magic without knowing it. Who is way too gentle for an elgar’thanelan, but doesn’t know that either.

Solas, for his part, doesn’t know how to stay away.

Dorian wonders if the mysterious elf just enjoys playing with a Tevinter. He wouldn’t expect anything else.

_____________________

Chapter 1- 13 | Right after uthenera, Solas is found by a Dalish clan. This goes well until it doesn’t. (Basically my excuse for world building and hilarious misunderstandings.)

Chapter 14 | Solas joins the Inquisition.

Chapter 20 | Dorian appears in Haven.

Chapter 65

The following day, Dorian didn't exactly have much time to wonder about his behaviour. Still, his full schedule didn't prevent his mind from going there over and over again. He could be so disappointed. He also was, a little, but a different feeling had obviously won him over that night. He hadn't needed to be that generous. Especially after all that foreplay and the promising words from a silver tongue. Usually, a dalliance would either agree to play, or leave and sulk somewhere else. After all, it could've been their last night, considering what lay before them. Yet, it was always different with Solas.

Perhaps it was the deep sadness in Solas' eyes he just couldn't stand. Or maybe the fact that they were also, sort of, friends. Comrades at least. Solas had listened to all his whining and self-loathing about Alexius. It would be only natural to return the kindness. To take care of Solas when he needed it. To hold him close, cover every spot of his body with kisses, wipe the tears from his cheeks and bite his ears to make him smile. And then enjoy his gratitude, nestled up to him. Elven hands clinging to him for dear life, giving him all the sugary feelings he could muster in this moment. Yes, that was totally what comrades would do for each other in these trying times.

Solas seemed to agree completely. They had gone back to their normal business. The elf was just as occupied and rarely to be seen. Surely, he had no time to idle and debate philosophical questions about the nature of friendship.

But one thing Dorian couldn't help doing. He was already cursing himself when he went down the stairs to the dungeons. A completely useless endeavour, but here he was. The man he was looking for resided in his cell, of course. Where else would he be? His sunken features didn't betray much emotion, let alone any joy of reunion. But to his credit, he had turned around and his bloodshot eyes lingered on his guest. It paid off to be such a pleasant sight.

Dorian awkwardly cleared his throat, before he greeted his former mentor and received a taciturn response. Nothing more.

“Ahem...In case you haven't heard...The Elder One's next great plan involves binding all Grey Wardens to demons, to make an army. Naturally, the Inquisition will march out to stop him. Yours truly will be with them. We'll be leaving tomorrow.” The message didn't do much to Alexius' features. As expected.

“Why are you telling me this, Dorian?” His voice was hoarse and his tone gruff. “Well, someone has to. It's quite the sensation. Would be a shame to be left out, even verbally. And perhaps you'll wonder where everyone has gone when the fortress is almost empty. It would be rude, to just leave like that, without a word. Don't you think?” His former mentor blinked, looking tired. Well, more than before. “I know this. I gave the Inquisitor and amulet I crafted in my research here. It might be helpful.” Dorian shrunk a little. “Ah...Of course, they told you.” Collecting himself, he added: “Well, then...It's good to hear that your research is showing results. An amulet. Hmm... I hope it's nothing...time-related?” Alexius' face crumbled into a frown. “I suppose that's a 'no'.”

“Are you worried I'd blow your precious fortress to pieces without your oversight?” Suddenly the voice had a sharpness he hadn't thought to be possible. Dorian kept himself from stepping backwards. There were bars in between them, they should hold. “Well, not by accident, I'm sure of that.” The man almost rolled his eyes. Dorian had to clear his throat again. “Considering that I don't have any news for you...I think I best leave you to your studies.”

He turned around, but Alexius made him halt. “Dorian”, he said. Then moved his lips without a sound. Dorian stepped closer. Did he have a stroke? Then the man gave up. His lips formed a bitter line. A skinny hand curled around the bars. Dorian wondered if he was supposed to take the hand. A handshake to say goodbye? A little formal and also risky given that the man had lost his mind. “I would say...'Maker watch over you', but...” Alexius shook his head. “That's a false hope.” Dorian gulped. “Perhaps not this time. I'm way too handsome to die. Even the Maker should agree.” Alexius stared into his eyes, intensely, probably wondering if he should consider blowing up the fortress. “You have your wits”, he decided. “Use them.” Dorian nodded. “Gladly.”

Then there was not much else to say, wasn't there? At least Dorian could imagine his former mentor had expressed some form of emotion. Yet, walking out, he had mixed feelings, whether or not this had been successful. Or even necessary. He was close to seeking Solas out and pressing himself against the man, just like they had done it last night. Perhaps adding all the weeping and chattering of teeth he had expected from Solas. But he caught himself, back outside in the yard, with some fresh air and sunshine.

Solas was absent even at dinner. Dorian remained in the hall after his meal, pondering whether or not he should end this day in the tavern, like he had done it so many times before Solas brought the change. Eventually, he went into the library, pretending to read, just to peek down into the rotunda from time to time. And indeed, the hundredth time he looked, the elf had appeared out of nowhere to stand at his desk. Fortune really favoured fools. It seemed that Solas had come to tidy up. It stung in Dorian's sides to see him arrange the few things he had neatly, then blow out the candle. Almost solemnly, like a ritual. A sense of farewell Dorian couldn't stand to witness. With his books secured under his arm, he made his way to the stairs that Dorian was already on the way descending. His heart made a jump, knowing that they'd finally meet again.

“Ah, Dorian.” The elf mildly acknowledged their encounter. Then he lifted his head to give him a kiss on the cheek. Motivated by that, Dorian put on his most charming smile and pointed a finger at the books under Solas' arm. “Found a bedtime story?” The elf regarded them. “I borrowed this selection from the library a few weeks ago”, he said smoothly. “I figured I will not need them for a while, so I put them back.” “Very sensible of you. And tidy too.” Solas tilted his head. “Is that...amusing you?” “Not at all. At any rate, the books you're returning will be in good shape.” Dorian, still a step higher than Solas, leaned forward and said with a deep voice: “The things I've seen could give a decent person nightmares.”

Very shortly, Solas was about to break his mask. But he caught himself. “I understand. I better return these books now, before I lose my grip and let them fall on the floor.” He moved to the side to go around him, but Dorian blocked his way. “And why would you do that, I wonder?” Solas lifted his head. The tips of their noses almost touched. The elf had the talent to look down at him from lowered eyelids, but this time, there was no reproach in his eyes. A bit of defiance, perhaps. “Perhaps because I am startled by an evil Tevinter altus?”

Dorian lifted a hand to carefully stroke the elf's hollow cheek, back to his ear, then down to his chin. Solas let it happen, still keeping his eyes on him. “And what if I told you there's nothing to fear from said altus?”, Dorian whispered. The elf held his gaze for another while, then closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. “I might let you fool me”, he whispered back, causing Dorian's neck hair to stand on end. “Solas...”, he sighed. “Have I not done well?” He began to fondle the pointed ear. “Tell me.” The elf silenced, lips half open, just savouring the treatment. Dorian believed he fell asleep and found that very endearing. Shortly after, Solas woke with a start. Dorian quickly held him and the books, so both wouldn't fall down the stairs.

Blinking and shaking his head, Solas freed himself from Dorian's hands and made his way up the steps, without looking back. Dorian followed, a little disappointed by the lack of answers. He found him again between the bookshelves, quietly busying himself with his task. Leaning against a shelf behind him, Dorian tried once more: “Forgive my bluntness, but I didn't see you in the hall and I doubt starving is a good way to prepare for what's to come.” Solas stopped his hand, one book still in it, and turned his head. “I obtained my share from the kitchens earlier today.” His features puckered, as if uncertain if they should soften or not. They remained undecided. “Thank you for asking.” Dorian nodded, then silence befell them once again. Unsatisfyingly so. He might as well leave and let the elf have the peace and quiet he obviously wanted.

Unexpectedly so, Solas turned fully, resting against the shelf behind him, arms folded behind his back. Regarding him colder than usual, he asked “How are you?” The elven eyes never quite reached his. Dorian didn't like this at all. He knew those signs. The last time, Solas had even rejected darling little wisps to get his point across. Eventually, he noticed that he wasn't answering. He needed to clear his throat to say: “Well enough, given the circumstances. It helps not to think about it too much. All these days marching, riding, lifting wagons, before we even get there. And there'll be not much privacy, either. The prospect of sleeping in a crowded tent every night makes my skin crawl. The demons would only be a nice distraction.” Solas' face didn't know how to react to this. But his eyes found him now. Dorian wished he stood closer, so he could see every violet streak in his grey. The memory of them would have to keep him company the upcoming days.

Suddenly, Solas moved closer to him, while his eyes shortly flickered to the corridor besides them. Dorian's silly heart rejoiced, full of hope. He tilted his head, just in case. And indeed, Solas brought their lips together. His hands clutched the shelf, locking Dorian in place. As if he'd want to leave anyway.

The soft lips explored his mouth. Their tongues moved carefully, solely touching their tips. Solas didn't appear to be in a hurry. He kissed as if it was their first time, curiously examining him with his mouth. Dorian put a hand on his shoulder blade, stroking him, encouraging him.

Only when the blasted tranquil appeared in the corridor, they stopped. Solas leaned backwards as Helisma began searching for something right in their section. “This is becoming crowded”, Dorian commented in an amused tone. “May I suggest a change of scenery?” Solas nodded, trying to hide the faint smile he displayed.

When they reached his chambers and Dorian closed the door behind them, he couldn't help but feel that he had dodged something. Yet perhaps he was overreacting. His senses had been on edge the entire day. If Solas acted strange, there were more dire reasons to assume than a change of heart.

As soon as he was safe in his arms, Solas let his cold facade go, showing this deep sadness that tore at Dorian's heartstrings. It should've been forbidden to look like that before a battle. Dorian could've complained. But how could he reject someone who bared his heart to him like that? Without any words, just pure, raw emotion? All Dorian needed was the slim fingers clinging to him. Ruffling his hair. And the lush lips. Kisses were their language, embraces were their punctuation.

When they lay between his sheets and getting drowsy, he couldn't help whispering: “I'll think of this, Solas. When we're on the way, I'll keep this in my mind.” He would, definitely. The warmth of the other body. His affection. Their sweetness that should've rotten his teeth by now. All of it would comfort him in the grim desert. The consequences came promptly. Solas hugged him tighter and his shoulders began to twitch. By now, there had been no tears, but his stupid blubbering mouth... He placed a kiss on the elf's head and began to stroke his back to comfort him. All Solas wanted in this situation seemed to be right in his arms. What else was there to do?

In time, his sobs calmed and his breath steadied. Dorian felt a strange satisfaction in having him cradled to sleep. He should've been worried about his own sleep. It was his last night in a proper bed. But all he thought about was the little victory he achieved today.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Walking in the rain, so no one can see me crying.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Solas wakes up in the strange new world of his own making and it terrifies him. Ridden with guilt, he joins the Inquisition and begins his lonely research in order to correct his mistake.

He doesn’t expect to find consolation in the presence of a human who wields ancient elven magic without knowing it. Who is way too gentle for an elgar’thanelan, but doesn’t know that either.

Solas, for his part, doesn’t know how to stay away.

Dorian wonders if the mysterious elf just enjoys playing with a Tevinter. He wouldn’t expect anything else.

_____________________

Chapter 1- 13 | Right after uthenera, Solas is found by a Dalish clan. This goes well until it doesn’t. (Basically my excuse for world building and hilarious misunderstandings.)

Chapter 14 | Solas joins the Inquisition.

Chapter 20 | Dorian appears in Haven.

Chapter 64

When he excused himself at the dining table, Solas was aware of Dorian's expression. It couldn't sway him. The fade called. His agents required an update on their tactics and he needed to clear his head. Get back to the important matters.

This morning had been unexpectedly pleasant, but the following discussion in the war room had reminded him how pathetic it was. He was.

No matter the uncertainties in their plan, the Inquisition would get closer to Corypheus and the ultimate goal was clear. He pictured the darkspawn's giant claw, its bones crooked and twisted, flesh hardened, veins pulsing with red lyrium. And inside, withstanding and singing, his aria'sulahn.

He needed to get the orb and leave, as soon as the opportunity arrived. No discussion, no questions. Everything he had done here would become a memory in the fade, a brief interlude in the greater scheme. A stage play that ended too sudden, leaving both actors and audience unsatisfied. He had to keep himself from imagining the expressions they'd wear on their faces then.

He couldn't let himself be pampered by the merry company. Instead he'd dive right into the fade and stay with the People until his promise to Varric was due. It came at the worst possible time. However, he understood the Inquisition would want this last cheerful moment, so he wouldn't spoil it. The curtain hadn't fallen yet and he'd play this role as good as he could.

In the evening, on the way to the tavern, his head was clearer. He knew nobody would expect him to stand out in a game he couldn't have played that often. He'd keep in the background. Varric only needed to see that he could socialize with the others and Dorian...well, he was discreet in public. A few glances would suffice.

The players were already laughing together when he neared their table. His gaze brushed the Tevinter who leaned nonchalantly in his chair, quite the contrast to Cassandra who sat upright albeit smiling. “Droopy, you?”, Sera shouted out of her conversation with Blackwall when she saw him. The Warden roared and covered his head. “Oh, no! No, I didn't count on that! Now the entire table is getting naked tonight! All but me! I'm not falling for this again!” The image made Solas huff out a suppressed laughter. “Wicked Grace is hardly Diamondback, Warden Blackwall. If anyone is taking their clothes off tonight, it will not be for me.” Bull laughed way too loud at that. “Maybe not as long as the game is running.”

Solas suppressed the urge to look at the moustached man who surely heard this. “I'm joking, though”, Blackwall ignored him. “Not about the naked part. It's good to see you.” “Yeah, kinda.” Sera fought with herself. “I didn't think you'd show up. It's good though. Looks like you're really serious with not being an arse and stuff.” Solas forced himself to keep the smile. “Even I need a distraction from that every once in a while.” She shrugged. “Good then.”

Cullen cleared his throat loud enough to get his attention, then smiled awkwardly when all heads turned. “You...may have my seat, Solas. It looks like there are enough people now and I have a thousand things to do.” This amused him as well. “There are other free seats, commander. I believe there is enough space for all of us.” “Ah...yeah.” Culled looked around, embarrassed and disappointed. “Of course.” “You're just scared to leave your office alone for so long”, Sera teased him loudly. Cullen managed an embarrassed glare. “At least tonight I know there isn't any danger.” The rogue cackled, bending over the table. Then she stopped, bit her nail and gave Solas a mischievous side-eye. Solas suddenly had the urge to get away and place himself at an edge, right next to Dorian who sat on the other side of that edge.

The Tevinter didn't lose any time to whisper to him, with his deep alluring voice. “Glad you made it, dear elf”, he teased. He was surely displeased with having to wait for so long. “But my opinion remains. You need a clock.” The memory of their beautiful morning refused to fade. Solas fought the warmth that wanted to fill him from inside. With a glance at the empty seat across from him, he answered: “I suggest you give it to Varric instead.” Josephine had read his body language right and said in her diplomatic manner: “Varric will arrive soon with the Inquisitor when she's finished with an important meeting.” “Perhaps he spotted the concurrence and escaped”, he suggested. Josephine was sightly flattered by this. She giggled, blushing. “I haven't played the game in years. I hope I remember the rules.” “I'm glad I'm not the only one.” Cassandra had heard her.

When the ambassador and the seeker started to exchange what they remembered, Solas had a moment of quiet to collect himself. He breathed slowly in and out, turning back to his own mind. He had to shrug the others off, but all he could feel was that he wanted to belong again. Even Cole was here and didn't seek him out for help. He muttered to Bull and the qunari seemed to speak with him like with everyone else. Solas just hoped he refrained from making dirty jokes. Dorian's presence was all over him, like a warm cloak, trying to soothe the painful knot inside him. He couldn't take it off. Didn't want to. He wished to take the man's hand under the table, touch it by accident. Filling this night with such accidents until they couldn't take it any longer. It wasn't that it would make what he did any worse.

The last second, he pulled his hand back up to press it as fist against his forehead. The damage he already caused was no excuse to create more. Dorian's ringed fingers tapped against the table, chiding. Luckily, Varric interrupted them with Ellana in tow, raising cheers from the players. Bull brought a new round of drinks, Josephine dealt the cards and the game finally began. As it went, Solas made himself comfortable in his role as politely amused background. Varric had to play the father-figure, since half the people didn't know what they were doing.

He had to keep Cullen from giving bad advice to Ellana, Cassandra from announcing her hand to the entire table and Cole from being distracted by the fade. Sera swapped the cards she didn't like with others when nobody was looking. It didn't give her much of an advantage, because she was going for the prettiest pictures rather than a winning combination. Solas “traded” his golden lute for a copper shield like that, but eventually she got caught. Blackwall was a decent player, along with Varric, Bull and Dorian. Josephine became downright dangerous despite her early shyness.

Dorian quipped at his playing style from time to time and Solas used this to answer in kind. “You have this dimple on your nose again, Solas. Every time you do that, it means trouble. I won't raise the stakes.” “Is that true?” Blackwall squinted his eyes. “Damn, should've looked at his face more often.” “You indeed should observe your opponents more throroughly, Warden Blackwall. And Dorian, you're holding your cards so close again, you do well not to try your luck this time.” Dorian pressed the cards to his chest. “Well, you have made shockingly little out of that advantage so far.” “Trouble is still ahead, as you know.”

As the game continued, the players developed more confidence, earning proud looks from Varric. The chat became more important, flavoured by the drinks. “Why would they want to make people fight?”, Cole's attention still went elsewhere from time to time. “Why would they fight the Maker?” “Who's fighting now, kid?”, Varric said with utmost patience that Solas just had to admire. “It is easier for people to believe that they were tricked into making terrible decisions”, Solas answered then, making everyone turn their heads in confusion. “The brothers shouldn't fight. They should tell their troubles. Their father didn't teach them to talk”, Cole went on. Some events in the fade troubled Compassion more than others. “Often a problem, yes.” Then it was his turn. “I ante up by another silver.”

The others uttered their surprise. “Is that a code or something?”, Bull roared. “You're only pretending to talk about the fade”, Dorian suggested. “Clever.” Laughter ensued. “I wasn't...”, Cole began, looking around confused. “It's alright, kid”, Varric comforted him. “Keep your hand close, like that, yeah. You're doing great.”

The cheery atmosphere brought even the commander out of his shell. He began to entertain them with a story from his Circle days. A long row of misfortunes that made a poor recruit end up deprived of his clothes in front of a large group of templars and mages. Cullen clearly had a talent for tactics and observing different events falling into place, he made the round laugh out loud multiple times. Even Solas wasn't entirely immune. “What did he do?” Josephine enjoyed every part of it. “Saluted. Turned on his heel and marched out like he was in full armor.” “He did not!”, Cassandra shouted to everyone's amusement.

Cullen's story motivated Ellana to reveal an event that happened in her clan. The Dalish managed to drive a group of raiders out of a haunted fortress, while dealing with both spirits and humans. Eventually, it ended in success and a certain nudity on the human side. “I feel sorry for the spirits in that fortress, but I acknowledge your creative methods”, Solas said to Ellana over the laughter. “Why, thank you”, she said in mock flattery. “Were you never forced to be creative in a temple?” She eyed him curiously. “I cannot claim that, but I know less self-damaging ways to get someone out of their clothes.” The round became louder. Solas kept his eyes off Dorian, but felt the gaze on him. “Do I sense a story there, Chuckles?” “Not as long as there are children in the room.” There were “awws” and shoulder pats for poor confused Cole.

Varric saved him with a story about how him and Hawke broke into a noble's chateau, including more Orlesians, wyverns, harlequines, Qunari, a Tal-Vashoth and other elements that might or might not be the truth. A motivated Cullen brought more drinks, Sera disappeared under the table and Josephine collected most of their money. Solas kept himself sober, but even he caught himself having been distracted from his future over and over again.

Finally, the commander became so bold, he challenged Josephine, betting all he had on him. She gladly accepted, excited by his defiance. The group laughed and cheered every time Cullen had to abandon a piece of his attire. It became its own story. Solas could respect how dignified the commander took this. He fought this out until the end, giving all he could. Dorian made no effort to keep his eyes off the man. Solas found himself whisper to him: “Should I be disappointed you did not take higher risks?” The grey eyes flickered at the attention. “Oh, the sight would be rewarding indeed. Not to diminish the raw beauty of our dear commander. But as you said, there are other methods and I must say, I'm quite interested in those.” A deep, hungry look followed. Solas pulled away, but a pulse ran through his body nonetheless.

He stared at the wall to clear his head, considering the damage. Then his focus went back to Cullen who had to take off his last bit of underwear. “Don't say a word, dwarf”, he huffed in defeat. “I tried to warn you, Curly.” Josephine collected her pile of coins and clothes. Her eyes sparkled triumphantly. “Never bet against an Antivan, commander!” Cassandra was the first to stand up. “I’m leaving”, she said awkwardly. “I don’t want to witness our commander’s walk of shame back to the barracks.” “I do”, Dorian said without hesitation. Cole still had to cope with what happened, happy and puzzled. “It comes off. I didn't know it came off...”

“I think there's only one thing left to do”, Cullen found his voice again. Then he stood up, back perfectly straight despite himself, saluted to the group and turned to march out. The tavern broke out in laughter, cheers, applause and whistles. Solas was sure his ears would ring after this. Only Ellana took pity, grabbing the commander's cape and running after him. Cassandra was still standing, mouth wide open.

“I think Curly won this round”, Varric muttered happily, collecting the cards. “He's certainly the winner of hearts”, Dorian answered. Solas needed to leave as well. “Thank you for inviting me, Varric. It was a show worth watching.” “Hear, hear.” Varric looked to up. “Thanks for coming, Chuckles. We have to do this again.” Solas gulped down a forming knot. “I agree.” He left with most of the others, but his feet refused to stay with them. He dallied, in case a certain Tevinter left as well. He did.

Dorian strutted out of the tavern as if he had won the game. He joined his side as they strolled across the yard. “I always wondered if I'd see you in the tavern one day. This scenario however, I couldn't picture in my wildest dreams.” Solas kept his voice calm. “Most days, I do not have a reason to go there.” “But it is quite the pleasant past time, you have to admit.” “That depends on how you spend it.” “Sure, but since that's entirely your own choice, how bad could it be?”

Solas risked a side glance at him. “You begin to sound like Varric”, he protested mildly. “Really? How exactly did he bribe you now?” “Not bribe, Dorian. I owed him.” Dorian poked the air with his finger. “Ha! So you did lose a bet!” “Not a bet”, Solas answered quietly. “I will say no more.” “Hmm.” The voice was dangerously close to purring again. “Always so mysterious. You must know that you're only daring me to try again.” “I see that you do not refrain from challenges, yes. A desirable trait”, Solas allowed himself to answer. A hand brushed his shoulder shortly after. “That desire can be helped, dear Solas.” The spot still burned when the hand was gone. “I believe so”, he pressed out.

Skyhold was silent, but warm and drenched in golden candlelight. Solas found himself scanning the hall he'd have to leave forever. The rotunda that still had empty space for frescoes. The library, Dorian's favourite place. Even the spymaster's rookery that had always loomed over him.

At the crossing to either Dorian's or his chamber, his feet forced him to halt. Dorian stood with him, but Solas didn't dare to look. The silence became awkward. His behaviour ashamed him eventually, and he lifted his head to give the other man's lips a placatory kiss. Before he could draw back, he was cradled in Dorian's arms. “There could be more of these, if you followed me”, the man whispered into his ear. Solas' body refused to let go.

The sound of footsteps made him back away eventually. Someone came up the stairs. “I believe I will not be good company tonight”, Solas used the moment to whisper an excuse. “I see. Our dreadful future catches up to us”, Dorian said with more understanding than expected. “Let me offer this: We could be miserable together.” Solas considered it. The servant, that reached the top of the stairs, greeted as she passed by and disappeared into a corridor. Then silence took over again.

“It might become more miserable than you expect,” Solas tried, eyeing Dorian carefully. “I expect all sorts of misery, my lovely elf. Wailing, screaming, gnashing teeth, begging the Maker for mercy. Nothing that would shock me.” Solas tilted his head, eyeing Dorian up and down. The man used to exaggerate, but there was honesty behind his words. Sometimes, his way of aching in dignity made him seem older than he looked. And Solas knew he had seen worse than most people assumed.

He made a step into his direction that Dorian took as an answer. And as he went, Solas' body followed, listening to the song before him. Letting it in.

Sheltered by the walls of Dorian's chamber, they kissed quietly. Solas moved slowly, not for pleasure, but to caress. A silent apology, solely driven by the hope that it would mean something. They abandoned their clothes in the process, as if they could let go of their burdens like this. He felt Dorian's care in every brush of his lips on his body. His cautious bites betrayed his hunger. Once more, Solas felt desired and it comforted him. When he rested at Dorian's side, held in a fond embrace, he didn't regret anything.

[sea-side-scribbles]

the veilguard solas flashbacks of felassan going "noo! you let those soldiers die? solas, we're better than that >:(" are a bit funny bc it's like...

hey. i read the masked empire. WHERE was this ethical energy from felassan when dealing with the dalish? forget the ambiguous morality questions of "how much lying and using of your people is ok, if it's to protect the mission secrecy of a shared goal, and they already agreed to be soldiers in a war that you're in together". also the fact that the inquisitor can do similar stuff of throwing lives at problems in war table missions, which no one gets mad about. and this type of ruthlessness is basically loghain's whole thing, except you can actually recruit loghain...

in weekes' own novel, our boy felassan betrayed and helped massacre a whole clan of mostly non-combatant, completely innocent dalish elves, who had no idea what was happening, or why. it's established as a character trait that he is very ruthless, and has no qualms about doing that, and is even flippant about it in a way that solas himself wouldn't be. but then they make him do moral arguments in veilguard? why? this guy should be arguing for even more war crimes 😭

[sea-side-scribbles]

sunbathing apostate

[sea-side-scribbles]

I got inspired

[sea-side-scribbles]

Solvellan also fell victim to my Chibi needs this week 👀💚✨

[sea-side-scribbles]

“unbothered. moisturized. happy. in my lane. focused. flourishing.”

-Cassandra reading her smutty literature on the beach (don’t tell Varric)

[sea-side-scribbles]

pov my inquisitor's inbox during dai

[sea-side-scribbles]

the inquisitor has far too much on his plate these days

[sea-side-scribbles]

💙​💚​