#ElfrootAddict FanFics

[elfrootaddict]

Whoops!

Andaran athis’an, lethallen!

So, I just discovered that I forgot to update ALL links of my fanfics when moving blogs (I was dannib.creations)!!

So, if you have tried to read any of my fanfics before, the links simply didn’t work - sorry!! 

BUT they work now :D

So, if you’d like to read my fics here’s a direct link: https://elfrootaddict.tumblr.com/myfanfics

And while I’m here writing a post about my fics, I am still working on “Herald of Andraste” & “Clan Lavellan” simultaneously.

Once I’m happy with all the chapters for both sets I will post everything at once 

Anyway - you can keep scrolling now

DARETH SHIRAL

[dannibcreations]

📝 Cullen Rutherford 😍🗡

I’ve decided to render out the series of #dragonagefanart I did almost a year ago 😀✨ In my ElfrootAddict’s Halla&Wolf fanfic, I’ve been writing some #cullenrutherford dialogue with my #inquisitor and just had to draw this handsome man first 🥰

I don’t typically go for blondes, but I make an exception when comes to this guy - and #alistairtheirin of course ❤️ which I have every intention of drawing someday, too! Did you romance this dream hunk?? . . . 🖊 Created with #procreate #ipad #ipencil 💚 Commissions are OPEN 💬 Ask before reposting 💕 All likes, reblogs and comments are hugely appreciated! Thank you 🥰 . . . 

[an-egg-broke-my-heart]

I’m late!!!! But @im4egghead​ and @faelavellan​ tagged me for this, thanks loves!

Rules: Tag nine people you’d like to get to know better/catch up with.

Top 3 ships: I can’t choose three so I'm giving 4, all DA for blog purposes. Solavellan 👀 (ofc), Cullen x Trevelyan, Fenris x Hawke, Zevran x Tabris. 

Last song: Meet Me on the Battlefield by Svrcina

Last movie: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows Part 1, but more recently I binged all of Killing Eve. 

Currently reading: I don’t have the attention span to read full novels unfortunately. I’m slowly making my way through Tevinter Nights, but more often I just read DA fanfic. I also read a ton of marketing and video production articles for work.

What food I’m craving right now: I really want a coconut milk latte but at the same time I want Twizzlers. I have a big sweet tooth. 

I’m not sure who’s already done this?? Tagging: @isalavhenan, @thedalishdelight, @elffyness, @waterwhisp-rivergoblin, @kirkwallgremlin, @its-dragonage-trash, @i-think-mabari-should-vote, @themultifariousweirdo, and @elfrootaddict!

[elfrootaddict]

It has been a looooooong time since I posted anything regarding my Halla & Wolf series but I have recently managed to start the next volume: Keeping Company

Here are two small extracts from chapters 1 & 2 🤗

Chapter 1 of vol. 5 Keeping Company:

...

Lana then spots Commander Cullen shouting inaudible instructions towards his exhausted recruits, and then peers up at Solas, “You go on ahead. I just need to speak to our Commander before I head inside. See you at dinner?”

“Of course,” concurs Solas with a smile. “See you then.”

With a respectful nod towards Solas, Lana turns and walks towards the soldiers in training, “Cullen!”

Before leaving Haven for the Hinterlands, Lana often found herself wandering around the camp when she wasn’t either talking to Solas, playing Wicked Grace with Varric or sketching in her cabin. By the second day, she found the Inquisition’s military adviser training new soldiers or improving strategies with the experienced ones near Haven’s frozen lake, with the snowy mountains stretching up towards the scarred sky. In the quieter moments of her day, she would often enjoy watching the soldiers train under the guidance of Cullen’s experience and expertise. And since she has no training, or use, when it comes to utilitising a sword and shield, Lana found the number of different ways a sword can be used to strike down one's opponent to be equally grotesque and fascinating. It was a whole other world of defense she never knew and it piqued her curious mind.

Not wanting to get directly involved or noticed, Lana would quietly sit and observe to learn what she could from a distance. And on the few random occasions, Lana and Cullen would quickly share a couple of glances from afar and release mutual smiles of respect towards one another. This would be the only time they would interact, albeit from a distance, when they were outside the war room.

That is until by the fifth day, when a soldier in training managed to parry a sword out of another’s hand and accidentally fling it straight towards Lana, piercing the ground only an arm-stretch away from her feet. Irritated with his soldier’s negligence, Cullen orders the soldier to retrieve the sword and the young man immediately hurries over in panic, “Please forgive me, Herald! It will never happen again!”

Lana waves her hand in the air in an attempt to de-escalate the situation, “No, no, it’s fine. Please, don’t worry.”

The soldier simply offers a respectful bow and turns on his heel, passing Cullen as he heads towards Lana himself, “Maker’s breath,” remarks Cullen looking embarrassed. “I apologize on behalf of my soldier, Herald. Clumsy fool.”

With a sympathetic laugh, Lana looks up at Cullen, “It really is okay, Commander. It was just an accident.”

“Regardless,” reiterates Cullen with furrowed brows. “It should not have happened.”

Still looking up at the Commander, whose appearance Lana felt was easy on the eyes for a human, and his shining armour with a deep red fur wrapped around his shoulders, offers a simple smile. “That was still quite an impressive move.”

Cullen releases a soft laugh under his breath, “Disarming one’s opponent like that does not happen often.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” begins Cullen looking down at the ever curious elf peering up before him. “To get such a bind on your opponent’s sword like that means that your opponent isn’t very experienced or they are beyond exhaustion and are no longer concentrating. Usually your opponent will be able to parry such an attack if they know what they’re doing before the sword is twisted out of their hand.”

“Parry?”

“It means to counter a move,” explains Cullen casually, however based on Lana’s curious but perplexed expression, he releases a polite smile, “Perhaps it would be best if I showed you? If you’re interested, of course. I understand if you are needed elsewhere.”

Delighted by the invitation to know more about the world of swords and shields, Lana stands to her feet with a wide grin, “Of course! That is if you don’t mind? I can always come back another day.”

With a sincere smile, Cullen cocks his head towards his soldiers and reassures Lana that it would be of no inconvenience at all to show her some of the basic techniques of fencing and mastery of the sword. Since then, Lana and Cullen would often spend some time discussing other off-hand topics while watching the soldiers practice their techniques. Igniting another unexpected friendship.

~~~

Chapter 2 of vol. 5 Keeping Company:

...

“Now what?” murmurs Lana eventually to help snap her mind out of her obscene thoughts and back to the present. Back to reality.

Solas releases a wide smile at Lana’s eagerness as he cannot help but feel his own giddiness swirling inside him. The idea of bringing someone from this world into the Fade with him was quickly denied by the overly cautious, frightened and grossly misunderstood people of Thedas. Nobody cared to know more about the Fade than what the Chantry already preached. The Dalish were far too superstitious and did not want to disturb the resting place of their pantheon, lest they catch the wandering eye of Fen’Harel. Their minds were all made-up and nobody could tell them otherwise. Especially a wondering, lowly elf nobody had ever heard of before.

Reaching for his side of the fireplace, Solas grabs a small clay bowl with crushed, dried elfroot, “Now, before I light this I want to mention a few key aspects about the Fade that I believe you already know, but I feel should be said regardless,” Lana takes small shallow breaths as she listens intently to Solas’s every word. “Your beliefs and willpower is paramount in the Fade. Everything that exists there, exists by your expression of thought. If you are expecting a demon, the Spirit will adapt. Magic can be used if necessary but I strongly advise against it. Magic in the Fade is incredibly unpredictable and may end up causing more harm than good. As a somniari, I have far more control over my surroundings and abilities, so you will follow my lead and enter my dream.”

Lana slowly nods in acknowledgement, “Okay.”

“Now, I remember you mentioning that you have only entered the Fade once with your Keeper. So, I have taken the liberty of drying up some elfroot to help you relax. Making the passage easier for you,” Solas brings the bowl closer to his face and creates a small flame, lighting the dried healing plant before blowing all the flames out. A plume of smoke rises from the bowl as Solas places it on the grown between them. “Take my hands and close your eyes,” Lana looks down at the open palms laying before her and gently places her hands onto them. Solas then curls his fingers around, sealing her hands in a firm but gentle grip and murmurs. “Now, just focus on breathing in the air and connecting to the Fade. I will do the rest.”

With her eyes shut and seeing nothing but darkness, Lana focuses on her other senses: the elfroot fumes burning her nose as she takes in sharp, deep breaths, her aura humming alive as it connects to the Fade, the heat from the fire almost too hot against her face, her hands slightly damp in Solas’s grip, and the hairs standing up on the back of her neck as the magic begins to swirl around her. Suddenly her head begins to feel as light as a feather and slowly spins around, giving her the feeling she might lose her balance. But with Solas holding her securely in place, she knows she is safe from falling.

[elfrootaddict]

My Halla & Wolf fanfic series cover art 💕

Done! Phew this took longer than expected but I had so much fun 🥰 now it’s time to do the other headers for the chapters 😁

[elfrootaddict]

I’m on AO3!

Thanks to @noire-pandora​ and @queen-kass-the-writer​, I decided to post my Halla & Wolf series onto AO3 ❤

[elfrootaddict]

New Cover Art for volume 1: Clan Lavellan of my Halla & Wolf series ☺️💕

If you want, you can read my dribble here lol 🙃🙈

[elfrootaddict]

HERALD OF ANDRASTE - Chapter 4/4

DESCRIPTION: El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”.

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 3

Lana bursts into her cabin, slamming the door shut behind her and drops to the floor. Releasing her belongings from her tense grip, she allows them to fall where they may. Her breathing is heavy as her heart thrashes wildly inside her chest. With so much adrenaline surging through her body, her hands begin to shake uncontrollably as she brings them to her face.

Lana is all too familiar with having a temper, but the pure rage she’s feeling from this outburst has never happened before. Not ever. Especially towards someone she barely knows. How is it that possible that only moments ago she was laughing and enjoying his company. But now? Now she feels like a wild, savage beast wanting to claw Solas’s face off.

How dare he say such things? How dare he have such hatred towards people he’s never even met before? People, who I love more than life itself!

And yet, how can she allow herself to get so provoked? He was only expressing his opinion. Is she to get this enraged every time somebody vexes her? Shouldn’t she be used to the notion that the Dalish are ostracised, perhaps even by her own kind?

Lana brings her knees in towards her chest as she scrapes her fingers through her hair. She closes her eyes and takes several minutes to try and calm herself down; taking in deep breaths through the nose and exhaling out the mouth, just like the Keeper always instructed her to do.

Except this time, it isn’t working.

Resting her arms on her knees, she drops her head and quietly begins to weep. Her chest pounding at a rapid rhythm until finally she takes in one deep breath and releases a much louder, desperate wail. She brings her head back, hitting the cabin door, and brings her trembling hands up towards her face to help quieten down the volume of her cries. 

And the tears keep falling. And falling. And falling.

Is she really that angry at Solas? No, not particularly. She is indeed offended towards his tackless accusations but when it comes down to it… 

Lana is terrified. Beyond belief.

“Blend-in as best as you can mir da’vhenan, and discover the nature of this meeting. Return to me and report what has happened. Nothing more and nothing less. Ar lath, ma da’len. May the gods guide your steps.” 

Lana realises that once word of the Conclave got to the Free Marches, and then to her clan, the Keeper would logically assume Lana had died with all the rest. In fact, Keeper Zatlen of clan Alassan has probably already sent word to the Keeper, and the clan has already planted a tree in Lana’s memory somewhere in the forest. Knowing the Keeper’s cautious behaviour, she would most likely move the clan to the safest location she knows because of the anticipated chaos between the mages and the templars. 

And Lana knows that once they move, there would be no possible way of finding them again on her own. She is no scout or hunter, and only just managed to get here by following the Keeper’s strict instructions. Sure, she could go back to Kirkwall’s harbour somehow and travel through the cravis in the Vinmark Mountains, but then where would she go? East? West? North?

I will never see them again. The Keeper. Lhoris. Tamara. My home. I won’t be there for Lhoris and Tamara’s bonding ceremony. I won’t be able to see them raise their little ones. I won’t even be there to help the Keeper as she ages.

Lana looks down at the papers scattered around her with the ink spilled across the floor, and quietly whimpers as she begins to clean up the mess.

Lana wipes the tears from her face and looks around the cabin. With the sun almost completely set, the cabin is nearly pitch dark, and she can hardly make out much, save for a single candle’s silhouette on the windowsill. With only a flick of the wrist, Lana murmurs a spell and lights the wick. The small flame fills the room with a warm, soft glow which is when she notices a large bowl laying on the table. 

Taking in a long, deep breath, and feeling somewhat calmer after that much needed cry, she forces herself up as she wipes her dripping nose with her sleeve, and slumps towards the bowl.

Lana murmurs a basic enchantment and fills the bowl with cold, fresh water. She then cups her hands in the liquid and splashes the water against her blotchy and tired face.

Lana leans against the table, hands placed on either side of the bowl and stares at her distorted reflection in the water’s rippling surface. As the water slowly begins to settle, Lana leans in closer and notices a large, dark line across her mouth. And with a quick gesture, she stills the water to get a better look. 

“Creators…”

Still struggling to see under the current light, Lana glares at the meek, little candle light and significantly enhances its flame size. 

Now satisfied by the more sufficient lighting, Lana uses one hand to hold her hair back as she leans in even closer to the water’s surface. And that’s when she gasps.

Using her free hand, Lana slowly glides her fingers across the massively brazen laceration starting from the left corner of her top lip and all the way down to her chin.

By the dread wolf, how long have I had this?

Lana turns her face from side to side and notices another laceration across her right cheek. This one is not as large, but it's deeper and also new. She’s grateful that at least her vallaslin is still intact. 

Suddenly, a knock at her cabin door startles her. Lana whips her head around, stabilises the candle’s flame, and pretends she isn’t there. She is in no mood for any company.

“Lana?”

Nope.

“It’s me... your friendly neighbourhood dwarf.”

Funny. But, still no.

And for a short while, neither one says anything until…

“I have food...”

Lana’s stomach instantly grumbles. Releasing a soft sigh, Lana realises that she needs a warm meal more than pretending to not exist at the moment.

Desperate to appear nonchalant, Lana quickly brushes her fingers through her hair and straightens out her clothes as she walks towards the door. Taking in a deep breath, Lana opens the door by only a few inches, and peers through the small gap, as she is still in shock and deeply insecure about the scar across her lip.

Standing in the cold on the cabin’s porch is Varric, with two steaming bowls of Fereldan’s typical, hearty stew; chunky vegetables in a broth, and if the hunters had been lucky, there would be a few pieces of animal meat, too.

Varric stretches his arm out with one and Lana takes it gratefully, “Thank you, Varric. That’s really nice of you. I could have helped myself, you know? You didn’t have to come all the way here.” 

Varric huffs with a playfully dismissive hand wave, “It was no trouble. And I figured with everything going on, you most likely haven’t eaten anything today, have you?”

Lana releases a gentle smile and sways her head from side to side.

“Thought so. Well, now that I’ve fulfilled my neighbourly duty for the day. I’ll see you ‘round, El.”

Lana smiles sheeply at Varric for calling her El, as it reminds her of Lhoris, and as much as she wants to wallow in self-pity, she could really talk to somebody who isn’t in the Inquisition's inner circle, a Chantry priestess or Creators-forbid… Solas. 

She could use a good evening with somebody who could potentially be called a friend.

“Varric...” calls Lana, and Varric turns around to regard her with a gentle smile, “You can come in if you like? If you want to, of course. I don’t want to intrude on your evening plans or anything.”

“If by ‘plans’ you mean waiting around for the world to end?” and shrugs his shoulders sarcastically. “I think I can push that back.”

Lana laughs and lets Varric in.

Once Lana closes the door behind them, she frantically looks about the room for a place to seat her guest, “You can sit... here.” and quickly puts her evening meal down on the table as she drags the only chair in the cabin out for Varric.

“Hey, don’t worry about me, I’m happy standing.”

Lana stops moving the chair towards him as she is unsure of what to do next. She isn’t used to entertaining “guests” and doesn’t know what the “rules” are. So instead, she settles for an awkward stare down.  

“Come on,” persists Varric as he moves himself to the corner of the table, placing his bowl down. “I insist.” and gestures for Lana to take the chair. 

Lana releases a sheepish grin, brings the chair in towards the table and sits down, “Thank you.” and brings her bowl in closer as they both dig into their meal.

“So,” begins Varric. “Now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up alright? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than just one day.”

Taking a big gulp of her stew, “I have no idea what’s happening anymore.”

Varric chuckles, “That makes two of us. For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement,” Varric pauses and looks down into his steaming meal. “I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

“If it was that bad, why did you stay? Cassandra said you were free to go.” 

Lana brings a spoonful of hot broth up-to her mouth and then slowly sips at the edges of the spoon.

Varric stops stirring his vegetables around and sighs, “I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this,” shaking his head and looking mournfully at Lana. “Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them! And now there’s a hole in the sky? Even I can't even walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, thank you for staying. The Breach needs to be sealed. The sooner the better.”

“If it can be sealed,” Varric leans against the cabin walls and looks at Lana for a moment as he contemplates something, and then moves in closer to whisper. “You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to recognise where this is going,” and leans back to take a spoonful of stew. “Heroes are everywhere. I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

Lana looks down at her bowl and begins to lose herself in the bobbing vegetable chunks in her stew, “I wish everybody else saw it that way. I’m just... me.”

Varric pushes away his empty bowl and sighs. “Look, I’m just going to say it…” and Lana looks up at Varric puzzled. “That stew was... terrible!”

Lana relaxes and laughs with a light and pleasant sound, “It’s not the best, is it?”

“Are you kidding?” Varric fans his fingers across his chest dramatically. “Even I could make a better stew than this nug-shit, and that’s saying something.”

“Yeah, I’m not a very good cook either. I suppose I never had to really learn. We always had at least two people dedicated to preparing the meals back home.”

Varric leans against the cabin wall again and crosses his arms over his chest, “You’re from the Marchers, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Pointing his thumb up towards himself, “Kirkwall.”

Lana smiles widens as she cries out, “I had no idea! What a small world! I’ve only been to Kirkwall once, although I’ve only been in the harbour mind you. Up until recently, I had never been anywhere else. Only Tamara would go to the towns or cities to trade with the shems.”

“Tamara?”

Lana shakes her head at her foolishness, “Oh right, sorry. Tamara is one of my clan’s merchants,” and pauses before murmuring. “But to me, she’s more like a sister.”

With kind and caring eyes, Varric attempts to console Lana. “You must miss her. Has Liliana managed to contact your clan yet?”

Digging and fumbling around in her almost empty bowl, Lana looks up at Varric with confusion. “No?”

“Maker’s breath!” cries Varric. “Okay, first thing tomorrow morning, find Liliana and tell her you need to contact your clan.”

“That’s sweet Varric but news of the Conclave would have reached them by now. They probably think I’m dead and moved on. I wouldn’t know how to find them.”

Varric leans across the table and looks at Lana with a confidant grin. “Trust me, Liliana can find them. Don’t you worry about that, kiddo.”

“Really?” 

Varric stands up straight, crosses his arms over his chest and simply nods.

Lana quietly judges Varric’s confidence, and realises that if Liliana really can find her clan, then that means she can allow herself to hope to be reunited with her family once everything is over.

“I would be truly grateful! Thank you, Varric.”

“No problem,” Varric drops his arms and scratches the back of his head, “Man, I’m glad to have a warm meal but Maker’s breath, that was just awful.”

Lana releases another carefree laugh but is instantly interrupted by another sudden and unexpected knock at the door.

Varric turns his head towards the door and looks back at Lana with a cheeky smile and raised eyebrow, “Expecting someone?”

Realising his carnal insinuation, Lana blushes and cries out, “Creators! No!” and Varric laughs wildly while she calls towards the door, “Who is it?”

And a quiet, soothing voice answers back, “Solas. Apologies for the intrusion, but I was hoping for only a moment of your time?”

Lana's pleasant mood visibly dissipates and she slumps into her chair, rolls her eyes and releases a loud groan. Which causes Varric to raise both eyebrows in surprise at her sudden, dramatic shift in mood. She then shoves the chair back, causing a loud screech on the wooden floor and marchers over to the door. 

With one swift motion, Lana opens the door wide enough to clearly indicate she isn’t alone and that Solas is indeed intruding on her very pleasant evening.

“Oh,” gasps Solas as he looks at Varric, who waves back at him awkwardly. “I didn’t realise you had company.” 

With one hand on the door and the other resting on her hip, Lana snaps. “Is there something you need, Solas?”

Solas looks back at Lana, “It’s no matter. I will find you-”

“You know what,” mutters Varric from inside the cabin as he grabs both bowls. “I was just about to leave anyway,” and walks towards the door, and past the two very clearly, upset elves. “So if you don’t mind me El, I think I’ll be heading off. It was good catching up.”

Varric staying is the only reasonable excuse Lana can use to dismiss Solas. But with her excuse literally walking out the door, Lana desperately cries out, “Varric, there’s really no need-”

“It’s no problem,” insists Varric. “I need a few mugs of ale to wash down this stew anyhow,” and begins walking questionably fast as he shouts without looking back, “See you kids in the morning!” and leaves Lana and Solas to watch him disappear into the darkness.

Eventually Lana murmurs, “Good night...”

Shit.

With his arms behind his back, Solas turns back around and looks down at Lana, who is still blocking the entrance to the cabin. 

Feeling his gaze on her, Lana ultimately looks back at him in return. Neither one says anything.

Well, this is just GREAT.

And as if they were in one of Varric’s cheesy romance novels, they both speak up at the same time. 

Lana releases a forced, awkward laugh and averts her gaze while Solas holds his own without managing to break eye contact. 

Clearly uncomfortable and wanting to get out of the cold, Lana attempts to speak first, “Do you... do you want to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Lana steps aside, allowing Solas in and closes the door behind him. Still lingering at the entrance, she turns around and watches him stride to the middle of the room and then turn back around to face her. His shoulders pulled back, standing perfectly poised and straight.

Lana isn’t sure what to do now, so she folds her arms across her chest and looks around the room awkwardly. 

Why is he just staring at me?

With a calm and controlled voice, Solas finally breaks the tension, “I wanted to apologise. Again. It seems I am constantly finding new ways to offend you,” Lana flicks her gaze back at him, visibly surprised. “I should not have allowed my previous experience with the Dalish to cloud my opinion of your clan. I regretfully admit that I have indeed ‘painted you with the same brush’ so to speak. And for that, I’m sorry.”

By his mannerism and delivery, it is clearly evident that Solas really means every word. He truly is regretful and Lana finds herself shamefully surprised.

After their confrontation, she had decided that he was an arrogant, selfish man who relishes in being superior in knowledge, intellect and rare experiences as a dreamer. 

But now?

Lana visibly relaxes her tense shoulders and feebly murmurs, “Thank you.”

Solas turns his gaze away from Lana and walks towards the window, the candle’s light subtly highlighting the edges of his silhouette, “You see, I have wondered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. I have offered to share my knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition. Most care very little about improving their lives. They already consider themselves perfect, the sole keepers of elven lore,”

Solas drops his head and closes his eyes, “Liar. Fool. Madman. There are endless ways to say someone isn’t worth listening to,” and he turns his head around with his eyes giving away his pain. “Over time, it grinds away at you.”

Lana can’t stop herself from staring at him as she left completely lost for words. His misery and suffering tugging at her empathic heart.

Lana takes a small step forward, “Solas-”

“Until today,” interjects Solas as he turns around fully with a gentle smile. “You are the first of your people to ask me about my travels, my stories,” and awkwardly tugs at his sleeves. “It’s been... a long time since anyone has shown genuine interest in what I have to share. And if you’d like, I would be more than happy to answer any of your questions, to the best of my ability.” 

With a subtle nod, Lana smiles sincerely, “Thank you, I would like that very much.”

Solas smiles back and moves closer to Lana, his tall and broad physique blocking the candle’s light. 

“Before I take my leave, I have something of yours,” and removes a rolled piece of parchment from his belt, and hands it over to Lana. “I believe you might be missing this.”

Confused, Lana takes the parchment, looks at Solas for a moment, and proceeds to slowly unravel it before him as she gasps. It’s her unfinished sketch of the Keeper. 

“I had no idea I dropped it!” and looks up at Solas with a sincere smile, “Thank you.”

Solas nods with a gentle smile in return, “You’re welcome. And I believe I’ve taken up enough of your time.” 

Solas walks towards the door as Lana follows him. He opens the door, steps outside and looks down at Lana with a sincere smile, “I will see you in the morning.” and begins closing the door.

Impulsively, Lana leaps forward and grabs onto the side of the door and calls out, “Solas, wait...”

Solas lets go of the door handle, turns around and stares at Lana curiously. 

Lana opens the door a little further and looks down at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Solas with remorse, “I would like to apologise for my behaviour, too. I said a lot of things to you which were unkind and hurtful, and I let my temper get the better of me... ir abelas, lethallin.”

Solas releases a heartfelt smile and nods, “Thank you.”

After hearing Solas’s tragic story about how the Dalish have treated him in the past, she cannot help but feel embarrassed and ashamed, and feels she needs to apologise on behalf of her people, too, “And I’m sorry for how the Dalish have treated you in the past. I truly had no idea,” and with her deep set frown and pale, lavender eyes peering up at him, she bravely declares, “It isn’t right and if I am ever in the position to change things, I know exactly where to start.” 

“You are a rarity amongst your people, da’len. And thank you for allowing me to speak with you this evening. I look forward to our many academic discussions moving forward.”

And with that, Solas turns around and walks away. Only once she can no longer see him, does Lana slowly close the door and look down at the unfinished picture of Keeper Deshanna. A bit crinkled, but no matter. She’s just happy to have the Keeper back with her.

Unbelievably exhausted, Lana decides to call it a day and puts the Keeper back with the others. She then takes the candlestick from the windowsill and places it in the middle of the room. 

She then proceeds to take apart her nicely made bed and apologises, in her mind, to whomever makes her bed for her as they will find everything on the floor. Again.

Using the thin cotton sheet, she lays it neatly on the cabin floor next to the bed. Then, taking her loose wolf fur, she lays it down on the sheet and immediately follows with laying out the softer, stuffed blanket on top of that. 

Once nicely centered, she visually divides the blanket into thirds, folding the right-third inwards and then the left-third over that. Then she tucks the bottom of her makeshift cocoon underneath itself and stands back to admire her work. 

Well, if this is the closest I’ll get to what I have back home, then that's fine with me.

Satisfied, Lana grabs the last crucial element of her creation - the pillow. 

Once changed into her sleepwear, Lana wiggles her way into her bed and turns around to face the candle, and stares into its dull, dim glow as it reaches the end of its wick.

First thing tomorrow I will find Liliana, so that she can try to contact the Keeper before Cassandra keeps me busy all day.

Then, I’ll find Solas in the evening to learn more about the ancient elvhen.

Lana closes her heavy, tired eyes and its not long until the flame of the candle runs out. 

Oh, and don’t forget to ask him about that strange shoe-thing across his neck.

Oh wait, it can’t be a shoe - doesn’t it have teeth?

Elvish to English Translation:

“Mir da’vhenan” = my little-heart

“Ar lath, ma da’len” = I love you, my child

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

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[elfrootaddict]

HERALD OF ANDRASTE - Chapter 1/4

DESCRIPTION: El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”. SERIES: Halla & Wolf VOLUME: 3

It was only yesterday that Lana woke up to find herself on a large bed, in a warm cabin - instead of lying outside on the cold stone floor of the temple’s ruins.

Confused by her surroundings, Lana abruptly sits up and frightens an unexpected young elven woman who immediately drops her supply box as she falls to her knees, plants her hands on the floor and exclaims, “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.”

Lana’s heart leapt when she saw a fellow elf kneel before her, “Creators lethallan, what are you doing?”

The elf only bowed lower as her forehead almost touched the floor, “You are back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand,” 

Lana looked down at her hand and noticed the magic subduedly illuminating underneath her skin. It felt suppressed and dormant.

“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

“Three days?!” shrieked Lana as she looked up from her hand.

To Lana, it felt as if she had merely fainted for a brief moment. However, instead of a minute or two, it had been days. And instead of waking up at the temple, she was back in Haven, in a cabin, and with an elf claiming to be her humble servant. 

To say Lana was wholly confused would have been the understatement of her lifetime.

Lana stared out the window of the cabin, watching the snow slowly trickle down as she tried to make sense of her rapidly evolving situation. While deep into her thoughts, the elven woman rose to her feet and nervously headed for the door, “...she said, ‘At once’.” and left the cabin in a great hurry.

Desperate for answers, Lana decided to get dressed and find Cassandra. Once changed out of the night dress, someone had put her in, and back into her old, filthy human clothes, Lana opened the door of the cabin and found herself standing in front of a horde of humans. One by one, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared with mouths agape.

As she slowly walked through the crowd of gawkers, she heard many whispering, “The Herald of Andraste! That’s her! That’s the Herald!”

Lana felt she needed to do a few double-takes to make sure she had heard them correctly, and to her astonishment it seemed there was no denying what she had heard. 

The Herald of Andraste? Mythal, ar halani lasa ghilan. I fear I may need it now more than ever before.

After awkwardly walking her way through the crowd and into the Chantry, Lana eventually reached the closed internal door within and immediately overheard people shouting on the other side. One voice she recognized to be Cassandra, and the other belonging to the senior Chantry gentlemen on the bridge days before. 

“Have you gone completely mad?” cried the Chancellor. “She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately and be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”

“I do not believe she is guilty.” Cassandra insisted.

“The elf failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky! For you all know, she intended it this way.”

“I do not believe that.” 

“That is not for you to decide,” demanded the Chancellor. “Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.”

Deciding that was as good of a time as any, Lana opened the door to find Cassandra, the Chancellor and Liliana standing around a large, wooden table. If they were going to be talking about her, she might as well be part of it. She was not going to allow these humans decide her fate. That’s what Lhoris would have done. 

“Chain her!” cried the Chancellor to the two Templars situated on either side of the door. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital, for trial.”

“Disregard that,” Cassandra ordered. “And leave us.”

And, so they did.

Lana stood awkwardly as Cassandra and Lilliana fought with the Chancellor over who had authority to do what. It was a dual, where their weapons of choice were their words. Each sentence cutting their opponent down precisely where they knew it would cause the most pain.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, a loud bang filled the room and Lana noticed Cassandra pointing to a thick, ancient book on the wooden table between them.

“You know what this is, Chancellor. A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act,” Cassandra paused as she looked about the room. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn,” and walked towards the Chancellor threateningly. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.”

Cassandra, having clearly won their verbal-duel, left the Chancellor with no other option but for him to leave the room defeated. Although she had been victorious, Cassandra did not look happy about it. 

Liliana turned to Lana and explained, “This is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos,” and then sighed with a heavy heart. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now... no Chantry support.”

As a Dalish elf, Lana's knowledge was understandably focused on elvhen culture, history, and magic. Up until recently, she never had any reason to know about human history. However, considering the situation, this had needed to be rectified. 

Lana was pleasantly surprised to find that, despite her numerous questions, Cassandra and Liliana seemed more than happy to divulge their understanding of the ancient writ and answer all of Lana’s immediate questions as best they could.  

“The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine, and then it will wait for her direction.” advised Liliana.

“But we cannot wait,” insisted Cassandra. “So many grand clerics died at the Conclave,” looking fiercely towards Lana. “No, we are on our own. Perhaps forever.” and then Cassandra turned her glare from Lana’s eyes to the dormant magical mark on her hand.

With her hand extended, like equals, Cassandra regarded Lana as she asked a heavy question with ease, “Help us fix this Mistress Lavellan, before it’s too late.”

The moment had demanded an immediate response, and with no time given to mull-over the decision or to find some way to escape this madness, Lana looked down at the Seeker’s hand and took a deep breath as she stepped forward, and shook Cassandra’s hand in agreement. 

Cassandra and Liliana then excused themselves so that they could inform the others, which meant leaving Lana alone in the room.

Immediately, Lana regretted her decision.

What. The. Fuck. Have. You. Done?!

When Cassandra asked her to help seal the Breach days before, Lana naively assumed her responsibility would end then and there. 

But now, Lana had agreed to become apart of this human ‘Inquisition’. 

You fool! Why are you like this? You should be heading back home so the Keeper can find a way to remove this damn magic from your hand! Not keep helping these shems!

Lana then looked down at her hand as her heart thrashed around inside her chest, and fear roared in her eyes.

As each moment passed with Lana staring into her palm, she slowly realised the full weight of her responsibility and the true reality of the situation. Her responsibility and role in this mess was far too great to ignore, no matter how hard she willed it away. No matter how nauseous her decision made her feel. No matter how harshly she scolded herself for the decision she made just now. 

This Breach threatens not just these shems, but the whole of Thedas… which includes everyone back home. The Keeper. Tamara. Lhoris. Everyone. 

And with this mark…

This mark is the only thing that is able to seal these tears in the Veil. So what choice do I really have? If I run, what does that say about me? Could I honestly leave knowing I’m the only one capable of sealing these tears? What would the Keeper say? 

Lana closed her eyes, took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and walked out the room closing the door behind her. 

She would tell me to stay. She would tell me to take this as an opportunity to mend the bridge between the shems and the elvhen. Show the shems that the Dalish are capable of helping others beyond our kin. 

As Lana slowly walked through the Chantry, she began admiring the peacefulness within. The Chantry sisters praying quietly in front of the dimly lit candles, the hushed ambiance, and the small trickle of sunlight creeping through the windows above its great doors. 

She would tell me that I can do this. That I have the fire of mamae and the caution of papae. That if I’ve made it this far, then I can do what comes next. Helping these shems is the right thing to do.

Once Lana exited the Chantry, she found herself once again in front of a crowd of on-lookers. However, this time Cassandra, Liliana, Josephine Montilyet and Commander Cullen immediately turned and gestured for her to join them in formation as they officially announced the rebirth of the Inquisition. 

Okay, Keeper. Then that is what I’ll do. For you and for the People. I will help fix this mess. For I am a proud, Dalish, elf. Arlathvhen, Mythal ar lasa ghilan.

Elvish to English Translation: 

“Mythal, ar halani lasa ghilan” = Mythal, help me and guide me

“Arlathvhen, Mythal ar lasa ghilan” = For the love of the People, Mythal guide me.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

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Cover Art for vol 2: She is the Key of my Halla & Wolf series

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[elfrootaddict]

SHE IS THE KEY - Chapter 1/5

DESCRIPTION: Solas is desperate to meet the person who survived the explosion at the Conclave. Things certainly didn’t go as planned. 

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 2

“If you will allow me Lady Cassandra,” begins the stranger as he holds his staff out in front of him while keeping a respectable distance. “I can try help get answers from the prisoner. Better yet, I may even find a way to seal the Breach.” 

With a unimpressed expression slapped across her face, Cassandra grumbles, “Considering the fact that you are the only one who has come forward to assist us with your… self-proclaimed knowledge,” and then releases a loud, audible sigh. “I would be stupid to decline your help. Even though you are a mage.” 

Offering only a meek smile and a respectable nod as a response, the stranger holds his true intentions to himself. Should this Cassandra discover his secret, she would undoubtedly make him a prisoner, too. Or simply kill him. Naturally, neither result suits him. 

With nothing left to discuss, Cassandra gestures at the stranger to follow her lead with a flick of her hand, “Come-” but quickly looks back cautiously. “What is your name again?”

“Solas.”

“Come then, Solas. The prisoner is this way.”

With their no-nonsense exchange lasting only a few heart-beats, Solas does appreciate the straightforwardness of Cassandra. As they make their way through Haven’s Chantry, Solas notices how she carries this poise of divine purpose in her stride and posture. Clearly she has an unrelenting drive to figure out who killed the Divine and the hundreds of others attending the Conclave. However, despite being the Right Hand of a murdered Divine, Solas can tell her determination comes not only from the expectations of her position, but that there is an undeniable sense of deep personal loss, too. 

After several minutes of silence between them, they turn right at the end of the dimly lit passage. They then come across a single, wooden door with two guards situated on either side. 

As soon as the guards notice their approach, they straighten themselves up and salute, “Lady Cassandra, Sister Nightingale has gone to speak to her scouts. Still nothing from the prisoner.” 

“Thank you,” remarks Cassandra as she tilts her head back. “This is Solas. He will be assisting us. You may allow him access to the prisoner but nowhere else.” 

A wise decision, but unnecessary. 

“Understood, Lady Cassandra.” confirms the guards united as they relax their arms back to their side. 

Cassandra steps closer and begins to open the door before stopping half way. With heavy eyes looking down towards the ground, she looks over her left shoulder and murmurs, “I need to know how the prisoner survived,” and with her narrow, hazel eyes she looks up at Solas fiercely. “I need to know… why they killed the Most Holy.”

With her pain and confusion palpable in her voice, Solas can feel his stomach turn in knots with guilt. He may not have been the one who killed all those people, but he knew who did. He allowed them to find the key to do it. 

It was not supposed to happen this way.

Cassandra finally opens the door fully and makes her way down a few steps before stepping further into the room. Solas stops at the top of the steps and quickly takes in the space: a square, split-level room with steps that lead further down to a landing with holding cells hiding in the darkness of the faintly lit room. And in each corner of the room is a pillar, followed with a guard situated in front of each one.

“This…” murmurs Cassandra as she squares her stance on the other side of the room. “Is the prisoner.”

Looking down at the centre of the room Solas notices a small, lifeless shape lying on their right side with their back facing the door he just came through. He was expecting the prisoner to at least be awake and in a holding cell. Instead, they lay completely unconscious on the cold, stone floor. 

His with staff in his right hand, Solas makes his way down the stairs. Immediately he can’t help but notice the prisoner’s elegant, female curves. The edges of her sweeping silhouette highlighted by the subtle light coming from the torches. 

As Solas gets closer he notices her clothes are dirty, the edges scorched, burnt and dyed the colours of the earth. Taking his best guess, the clothes appear to be human scouting armour. Then, quite unexpectedly, Solas tries not to gasp aloud as he notices the tip of the women’s ear cutting through her silver hair, lying loose on the floor. 

She’s an elf?

With her arms behind her back and holding onto a deep frown, Cassandra breaks the silence, “The prisoner has been unconscious for almost half a day now. Nothing we have done has worked.”

Solas decides he needs to get a better look at this elf in human clothes and slowly walks around the prisoner, taking in every detail. All her angles slowly being revealed. 

Now standing in front of Cassandra, and facing the prisoner, Solas supports himself with his staff as he gets down on one knee. With the room being so poorly lit, Solas leans in even closer so that he may study her face more accurately. He needs to make sure that she isn’t one of his. 

Managing to get a better look, Solas is startled to find so much blood covering the prisoner’s face and notices that it clearly came from two deep wounds.

The first wound is under her corner of her right eye and about an inch long, while the second one is far more ghastly. This one is almost two inches long and runs diagonally from the left side of her mouth, crossing over her top and bottom lip, and then all the way down to her chin. The wound is so deep that it has completely split parts of the skin, revealing some of her teeth underneath. 

Then he notices the simple, lavender-coloured vallaslin on her left cheek underneath her silver blood-soaked hair. 

Dalish. With the markings of Mythal. You are not one of mine.

Then quite unexpectedly, a bright bolt of luminous green magic flashes from the prisoner’s left hand, lighting up the entire room. Solas is startled and jumps back up onto his feet and looks at Cassandra quizzingly. 

“We do not know what it is,” answers Cassandra with a mild shake of her head. “Her hand lets off this… magic every now and then. We believe it to be related to the Breach but not how it is related. This is why we need your help.” 

“I see,” Solas looks back down towards the prisoner. “You are correct in your assessment, Lady Cassandra. This magic is indeed tied to the Breach. I will need a couple of hours, and then you’ll have your answers.”

“I’m glad to hear it. We do not have time to waste. So the sooner you figure this out, the better.”

Cassandra then makes her way towards the door, leaving Solas behind with the prisoner and the four guards. With the four guards looming over him however, Solas knows he won’t have the freedom he needs to figure out who this prisoner is and how powerful the magic on her hand already is. With them still in the room, he can’t access certain skills and abilities, and he will need to use them in the hours to come. With a massive hole in the Veil, there is far too much at risk and no time for him to take the extra measures of precaution.

Being self-taught and a dreamer, Solas’s magic would be considered different than what a usual mage can do from the Circle, and the last thing he needs is unnecessary attention. Also, he occasionally likes to talk to himself out loud. This particular quirk helps him gather his thoughts and focus his line of thinking. And considering what he knows, he can’t have the guards hear him discuss such matters. Even if he speaks in Ancient Elvish. His privacy is essential to his success.

“Lady Cassandra, if I may have but one request.”

Almost at the door, Cassandra turns around to face him, “And what might that be?”

“I would like to be alone with the prisoner.”

The audacity of an apostate asking to be alone with the prisoner Cassandra doesn’t know and trust, causes her to catch her breath in shock as she stares long and hard at Solas. 

Solas attempts to convince her, “To figure out this magic, I am going to perform a variety of tests. If anything goes wrong, I wouldn’t want anybody else to get hurt. I don’t want to put any more lives in danger.”

After a few more intense moments of staring at Solas, Cassandra then reluctantly drops her shoulders as she releases a loud sigh. With Solas being the only mage around who claims to have the necessary skills to help stop the Breach, Cassandra realises that this is perhaps out of her hands. At the moment she knows she is desperate and pulling at straws, and perhaps Solas knows this, too. Nevertheless, this apostate came to her and said with his knowledge, he would be able to help. He also took a serious risk coming to her as all mages are now declared apostates, and she has every right to take him and lock him away for simply being a mage. No one would question it.

Taking a few steps forward, Cassandra continues to glare at Solas from afar, “I am no fool, mage. You should know that I used to be a Seeker,” and points her index finger towards Solas. “So, if you try to do anything stupid, I will kill you where you stand.”

Solas gives a slight, polite head bow to indicate that he understands. 

“Good,” Cassandra drops her hand and turns back around on her heel. “Guards, we will leave this mage alone with the prisoner.”

The guards reluctantly leave their positions and promptly follow after Cassandra, but not without each one giving Solas grave looks of concern. They don’t approve of this at all. 

Once the door finally closes behind them, Solas relaxes his shoulders and kneels back down towards the prisoner, placing his staff on the ground. It is now so quiet, that the faint sound of water dripping in one of the cells can be heard while the prisoner slowly breathes in and out.

Solas reaches for the shackles that are keeping the prisoner’s hands tied together, and brings them closer to him as he reminds himself that the magic came from her left hand. Taking hold of her left wrist, while leave the right hand to dangle, he begins to study her palm. 

Starting from the wrist and all the way through to the base of the middle finger is a large, gaping wound. The exposed flesh is seared and burnt. Now holding her wrist using only one hand, he traces over the wound with his fingers from the other. Starting from the bottom, he slowly makes his way up her palm. 

Solas closes his eyes as he can feel the magic vibrating. The wound is clearly the result of the magic that penetrated her hand, which now lies beneath her skin. As Solas reaches the tip of the wound, the prisoner’s fingers involuntarily curl down onto his. Her hand is also unusually warm as it radiates static-like energy. 

How fascinating.

Solas gently places her shackled hands back onto the ground and releases a loud, audible sigh, “So, da’len. What am I to do with you?”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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HERALD OF ANDRASTE - Chapter 2/4

DESCRIPTION: El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”.

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 3

It’s been just over four days since the prisoner’s attempt of closing the Breach, and Solas did not expect her to survive. As she lay unconscious for hours, then a day, and then into several nights, it was only a matter of time before she would be declared dead. 

She may have survived the Conclave by accidentally entering the Fade, Solas thought to himself, but to survive closing the Breach with her magical limitations? Impossible. 

Just as Solas had theorised, the mark had stopped spreading like the Breach, which helped solidify his value to Cassandra. Seems her desire to see him executed will have to wait. 

When nearing the end of the third day, Solas was preparing the little belongings he had in anticipation of the prisoner’s demise, so that he could reconnect with his agents as soon as possible.

However, not too long after making the decision to leave did he notice a lot of stirring and commotion amongst the people of Haven. Suddenly everyone started rushing to witness something. Or someone. 

While keeping his distance, Solas witnessed Lana awkwardly shuffle through the gawking crowd of people. 

This prisoner somehow managed to defy all reasonable odds. Again?

Only when Lana disappeared into the Chantry, did Solas retreat back to his cabin to reconsider his strategy. A few thoughts had come to mind but he quickly settled on one; he was going to leave regardless, and have one of his agents spy on the prisoner for him. His time is too valuable, and he was not going to waste it here, especially when his spies could do the work for him just fine. 

Also, he was not comfortable being the only apostate amongst so many unrestrained Chantry forces. Rumours of the rebel mages causing the Breach was growing, and he wanted no part in it.

Once Solas was packed and ready to leave, he opened his cabin to once again find the people of Haven gathering to witness something else. This time, it was in front of the Chantry. 

With his curiosity peaked, Solas decided to quickly see what the commotion was all about before he left. 

As Solas reached a perfectly concealed spot, he patiently watched and waited as Cassandra, Liliana, Josephine Montyliet and Commander Cullan stood ideally by in a huddle in front of the slowly growing crowd. After a few moments of nothing, Solas decided it was probably no more than a public service announcement of sorts for the people of Haven.

As Solas was about to turn to leave, he suddenly saw the prisoner step out of the Chantry. With genuine shock slapped across his face, Solas witnessed Cassandra gesture for the prisoner to stand with them in formation, as an equal, and announce the rebirth of the Inquisition. 

As momentous as the occasion was to witness, especially considering it was current and not a memory in the Fade, Solas could not help but bewilderedly stare at the prisoner as she stood front-in-center of the ceremony.

She is clearly no longer their prisoner. No, she has become someone important. Someone, I need to keep an eye on myself.  

***

It is now the fourth day, in the late afternoon, and the people of Haven are starting to prepare for the evening meals. Solas is making his way back to his cabin when he passes Varric, who is warming himself by a large fire, and regards him with a friendly nod.

“Hey, Chuckles! Hold on a moment.”

Solas stops to turn around, “Yes, Master Tethras?”

“Please, Varric is fine. I’m not one for fancy titles.”

“My apologies, Varric. What can I do for you?” and with a subtle, polite gesture from Solas, the two men continue walking together. 

“Look, I don’t like telling people what to do just as much as the next guy, but I can tell when someone needs company.”

Solas looks down at the dwarf slightly puzzled, “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I am in no need of any company?”

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

The two men walk up a small flight of steps which leads to a large, open space with cabins situated on either side, and another directly in front. 

“Who, then?”

Varric folds his arms across his chest, and cocks his head over his left shoulder and whispers, “Lana.”

Solas leans to the side and notices a pair of two bare feet, wrapped in thin, makeshift leather strips, hiding behind the cabin opposite to his.

“What does that have to do with me?”

Varric sighs loudly, “I understand you like being alone, but our little Dalish there? From what I could gather, this is probably the first time in her life that she’s been away from her clan.”

Solas becomes visibly uncomfortable at Varric’s insinuation, “And you think because I’m an elf, that I would be able to console her?”

Throwing his hands up and shaking his head, “Is that so hard to understand? Sure, there is Minaeve but she’s too, you know, Andrastian. Lana would perhaps enjoy talking to someone less, Chantry?” Varric sighs and crosses his arms. “Look, just go talk to her will you? Maker’s breath, she won’t bite!” and walks away, leaving Solas with a decision. 

All Solas wanted to do was to get out of the blasted Fereldan cold. He looks down at his toes, sighs, and realises they are going to have to stay frozen a little while longer. 

As Solas begins his quiet approach, he notice’s Lana sitting on a loose fur rug, knees close to her chest, and with her back against the cabin as she softly hums a melody to herself. Solas also notices an ink pot beside her, and then sees her slowly guiding the quill on some parchment as she draws a pair of eyes.

As Solas’s shadow casts down on Lana, she looks up from her sketch and immediately squeals from fright, causing Solas’s entire body to subtly jolt as he tries not to squeal in return. 

That would be entirely unbecoming. 

Lana brings her hand up to block the sun’s rays, her eyes trying to adjust to the silhouette towering above her. Soon small details begin to reveal themselves, and Lana eventually recognises that it’s Solas. 

Taking in a deep breath of relief, Lana chuckles loudly, “Ir abelas, lethallin! I wasn’t expecting anybody to find me here.”

After quietly composing himself, Solas calmly responds, “Apologies. It seems I have frightened you. I should have announced my presence sooner.” 

Lana removes her gaze and looks back at her sketch, “Oh no, don’t worry. I just startle easily. Not a very good trait for someone to have in my position, I suppose.” and turns to look back up at Solas with a gentle, innocent smile.

“Do not bother yourself with their perceptions of you. For it is your mark they are primarily concerned about, after all.”

Lana sighs, “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Is there something you needed, Solas? Is Cassandra looking for me?”

“No, Cassandra does not need you. If it’s no trouble, would you mind if I joined you?”

Lana’s smile widens, and she happily moves her ink pot out the way as she shuffles herself over to make more room on the rug, “No of course not, you can sit here.” and taps her hand on the empty space. 

Solas places his staff against the cabin and sits down next to her. With his legs crossed, Solas turns to regard Lana, “So, the Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all.”

Lana’s shoulder length, silver hair swoops in a flick as she looks around to ensure nobody but Solas can hear her, “Banal! These shems are crazy. I’m not,” forming air quotations. “The ‘Herald of Andraste’ and I have no interest in being anyone’s hero,” and she leans back against the cabin to continue drawing. “All I want is to find a way to seal this Breach. Ghilas ma vhenas.”

Solas releases a quiet sigh under his breath, “Pragmatic, but ultimately irrelevant,” and he too, looks down at Lana’s sketch. “Who is that?”

“Keeper Deshanna,” answers Lana proudly and turns to look up at Solas. Based on his subtly confused expression, she realises she needs to explain. “She’s the Keeper of my clan.”

Solas offers a subtle nod in response and quietly critiques her skills, and determines she is quite talented, “Why are you drawing your Keeper?”

Lana rests her quill on the parchment and sighs, “I… well... you might think it strange. But I wanted to draw the faces of my family back home. I don’t-” 

Lana turns away from Solas and clears her throat. “I don’t know when I’ll see them again, and I want something to look back on while I’m here,” and turns back at the parchment. “Something to help me remember their faces,”

Lana quickly wipes away at an escaped tear and releases a soft, embarrassed laugh, “Ir abelas. You don’t have to sit with me. I actually don’t mind my own company.”

“Neither, do I,” murmurs Solas. “The company of others can be quite trying.”

Except for some Spirits.

Lana’s face immediately bursts into a happier demeanour, “Me, too! Ugh, especially with shems! I don’t know how to act around them. I don’t have a lot of experience, obviously.”

Solas is surprised to find Lana using the word ‘shem’ without a hint of disgust as one would expect from a Dalish elf. The only thing Solas finds the Dalish and city elves have in common, are their constant derogatory tones whenever they say “shem”. However, Lana appears to be saying it without contempt and Solas finds himself curious over why that is.

Offering only another subtle nod as a response, Solas decides to keep their conversation going a little while longer, "If you don’t mind me asking, I heard you humming before, and I’ve never heard such a beautiful melody in any of my travels before. Is it of your own making?”

“Oh, you heard that? No, I didn’t create it. It's actually a very old Dalish song parents sing to their little ones before bed. It’s called Mir Da’len Somniar,” and turns warmly to admire her sketch. “The Keeper always sang it to me.”

“Why not your own parents?”

Lana’s face suddenly stiffens as she falls quiet, and Solas immediately regrets having asked the question, “I’m sorry. I seemed to have upset you. Forget I asked.”

Lana continues sketching and eventually answers, “For a time they did, but they died. A long time ago. The Keeper raised me as her own.” and with that, Lana continues shaping the eyes of the Keeper.

With a gentle voice, Solas murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, you didn’t know.” and Lana finalises the details on the eyes and then begins with the eyebrows. 

With their conversation having suddenly reached an immediate halt, with neither one knowing what to say next, Solas decides to talk about the one thing he feels the most comfortable with. The Fade.

While focusing his gaze on the Breach in the sky, Solas unpromptly shares one of his many veracious stories with Lana, “I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade to ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations,” Lana stops to regard him and Solas, still focused on the Breach, doesn’t take notice. “I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten,” he turns to face Lana and is startled to find her gaze already upon him. “You say you don’t want to be a hero but every great war has its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be?”

Lana ignores the question and instead asks one of her own, “Ruins and battlefields? What do you mean?”

Solas is pleasantly surprised at Lana actually having paid attention, as he expected her to answer his question boldly and ignorantly. Instead, he has unintentionally piqued her curiosity, and suddenly feels a rush of excitement over the fact. 

Solas turns his body slightly towards Lana as he gladly educates, “Any building strong enough to withstand the riggers of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds,” Solas turns away, losing himself in his mind's eye. “When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen.”

Lana places a light hand on Solas’s shoulder as she cries out in horror, “You fall asleep in the middle of ancient ruins? Isn’t that dangerous?”

Solas takes a quick glance at her hand on his shoulder, and releases a cheeky smile, “I do set wards. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live.”

Lana drops her hand and looks away as she contemplates on what Solas has shared with her. Her eyes appear wider than usual as they dart from side-to-side. Then, as she looks back up, Solas holds his breath as he braces himself for her to either disregard or openly mock him for his choice of study.

They always do.

“I’ve never heard of anyone going so far into the Fade before, Solas,” her smile widens with pure, innocent excitement. “That’s extraordinary!”

This has yet to be the most positive response he has ever received. The moment Solas would mention his studies and observations of the Fade, people either politely excuse themselves or openly mock him. They would never ask questions and then openly praise him for his accomplishments.

Solas’s emotions begin to turn as he starts to feel guilty for having such animosity towards Lana before. At a minimum, he expected her to be crude and hostile, just like all the other Dalish people he’s come across. The last thing he thought she would be... is agreeable. If it wasn’t for her vallaslin, he would not associate her as Dalish at all. 

Humbled by Lana’s excitement, Solas smiles, “Thank you. It’s not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything,” Solas pauses, losing himself in his thoughts yet again. Unsure of what to say in light of his sudden silence, Lana awkwardly looks away to observe her sketch. 

“I will stay then,” announces Solas as he breaks the silence between them, causing Lana to face him once again. “At least until the Breach has been closed.”

“You weren’t going to stay?”

“I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me,” Solas lowers his voice as he murmurs. “Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”

Lana averts her gaze and thinks about her next few words very carefully, “You came here to help, Solas,” and turns back to look deep into his eyes. “For as long as they care for my opinion, I won’t let them use that against you.”

“And how would you stop them?” he asks smugly.

“However I had to. As a Dalish and First, I will not sit by and let any elf be subjected to shemlen arrogance.”

This time, Solas noticed she said ‘shemlen’ with disgust.

Despite Lana meaning what she said, he still admires her courage, however misguided it may be. Solas knows she holds no real power over the humans should they wish to harm him. Nevertheless, Solas doesn’t want to appear ungrateful towards her display of bravery on his behalf, and answers with a simple polite bow. 

Content with their conversation and his toes practically turned to frostbite, he decides this would be a good time as any to head back to his cabin. 

However, just as he is about to stand up, Lana unexpectedly puts her quill and papers down on the ground, perks herself up as her, and with her overall mood clearly improved she looks at him with her wide, lavender eyes.

More questions?

Elvish to English Translation:

“Ir abelas, lethallin” = I’m sorry, lethallin

“Banal” = Never

“Ghilas ma vhenas” = I want to go home

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

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Halla & Wolf Series

[elfrootaddict]

CLAN LAVELLAN - Chapter 3/4

DESCRIPTION: As Keeper Deshanna’s First, El'lana Aemma Lavellan is sent on her first diplomatic mission, which lies far beyond the familiarity of the Free Marches and her clan. The only home she has ever known.

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 1

It is well into the evening and the majority of the clan has settled in for the night, with their stomachs full and heads buzzing with ale.

Except for Lana and Tamara, who are still up and keeping themselves warm by the last few logs burning by the main fire-pit. Lhoris on the other hand, is passed out on Tamara’s lap. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks dead.” quips Lana.

“He hasn’t moved much has he?” adds Tamara with a gentle laugh as she studies Lhoris lovingly.

To pass the time, Lana and Tamara have seized the opportunity to be creative. As Tamara finishes the last of her infamous braids in Lhoris’s hair, Lana carefully completes her atrocious hair-floral arrangement by decorating said braid with wildflowers in between the crossings.

Lana is relishing in the thrill that comes with her shenanigans, and decides to raise the stakes by attempting to insert a flower in Lhoris’s nostril. 

“Oh no, shame!” giggles Tamara as she lightly pats Lana’s hand away.

“Oh, come on!” persists Lana with a mischief grin and beaming, wide eyes, “When will we ever get the chance to mess with him like this again?”

Tamara pauses with a cheeky grin, “Okay! But me, too!”

Excitedly, Lana and Tamara each take a flower and carefully guide its receptacle into one of Lhoris’ nostrils…and with no response, Lana and Tamara high five quietly above Lhoris’s head. 

Mission accomplished.

Suddenly, Lhoris’s eyes snap wide open as he releases a loud, gasping grunt causing both young women to squeal from fright. He perks himself up, whips his head around and finds two red-faced, delinquent elves roaring with laughter.

Finding it surprisingly hard to breathe, Lhoris’s face distorts with confusion as he carefully removes two flowers from his nostrils, “What... in the...?”

“Lhrois,” smirks the Keeper, stepping out of the darkness towards the soft light of the fire-pit. The young women moderately cease their laughter as Lhoris spins around to look up at the Keeper. “You should count yourself lucky mirrors can’t talk, and perhaps luckier still that they can’t laugh either.” and settles with a playful, yet judgemental, gaze on his hair.

Immediately catching the Keepers insinuation, Lhoris struggles to frantically comb through his hair full of tiny braids, and with a horror stricken face, watches a seemingly endless cluster of tiny wildflowers litter the ground around him.

Once Lhoris’s dramatic performance has ceased, he spins back around towards Lana and Tamara with revenge, but the Keeper quickly interjects with a more serious tone. “Garas da’lenen. It’s time we all settled in for the evening,” and peers over to regard Lana. “Except for you my dear, I must speak with you first.”

The three exchange quiet, curious glances and slowly stand to their feet. After lightly dusting themselves off, Tamara embraces Lana with a sincere smile, “Happy birthday, mir falon.”

“Ma serannas, Tammy,” murmurs Lana as she hugs Tamara tighter. “This has truly been one of the best days of my life.” and the two young friends release with heartfelt smiles.

Lhoris walks over to Lana with arms stretched out, “Night, El.” and brings her in for an embrace. “I would make a joke about your age, but I feel too bad for how old you are now.”

Lana playfully pushes Lhoris backwards and exclaims with laughter, “I’m only twenty-seven! You’re three years older than me! You’re practically ancient. Soon you won’t even have hair left for us to braid.”

“Alright, alright,” interjects the Keeper just as Lhoris tries to retaliate. “Tamara, I trust you will see that our hunter makes it safely back to his tent? I want you both to have a good night’s rest. I need you both up just before first light, and not a moment later.”

“Yes, Keeper,” nods Tamara respectively and brings Lhoris in as she wraps her arm around his side. “Garas, ma vhenan,” and guides a stumbling, semi-drunk Lhoris to his tent as Lana watches them disappear into darkness. 

“Garas.” demands the Keeper and Lana turns to follow.

As Lana reaches the Keepers side, she can immediately sense a great deal of sudden tension in the air. For some reason, the Keeper appears burdened. 

Something is wrong.

As they reach the Keeper’s tent, Lana always finds herself smirking at the secret runes sewn in the fabric of the tent’s entrance; an old magical technique, so that any conversations within cannot be heard from the outside, ensuring the highest level of privacy. Which Lana always felt to be an overkill, considering they were always amongst their own people. Nevertheless, Lana trusts the Keeper above all things and knows she does everything for the People and their clan.

Lana follows the Keeper into the tent, and admires how organised and tidy it always is. Nothing is ever out of place; to the immediate right of the entrance is a small table with a bowl the Keeper uses to fill with water, so that she can bathe privately. A neatly made bedroll lies in the back right corner, and to the left is a sizeable table with ancient elvhen books, trinkets, magical tomes and parchments. And hanging from the centre, is a yellow gemstone encased in iron, which only illuminates with a simple enchantment only when the Keeper is present.

The Keeper stops and pauses in the middle of the tent. “Let us sit,” and with a simple gesture, the head of the Keeper’s staff illuminates with the familiar earthy-green magic as she murmurs, “Alas’nan.”

Lana watches moderately sized roots expel from the ground, and turn into two stumpy stools. The Keeper takes her seat and rests her staff against the table on the left. Lana follows suit, taking the other stool for herself.

Once reasonably comfortable, Lana notices the Keeper aggressively studying her, causing Lana to shift nervously as she asks gravely, “What’s going on Keeper? What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

The Keeper continues to glare at Lana, her stare hardening more and more each passing moment before eventually answering quietly, but sternly, “There is no other way for me to say this... than to say it plainly, da’len.”

Lana holds her breath in anticipation as the Keeper divulges the reason for her tense and pensive behaviour.

“Earlier this evening, I received word back from a clan in Ferelden - clan Alassan. The Divine, the shem’s holy teacher, is holding a meeting between the Circle mages and the Templar Order,” the Keeper pauses and releases a soft, heavy sigh. “I need you to go to Ferelden and secretly attend this meeting.”

“What?”

“I know we do not normally trouble ourselves with the shems,” insists the Keeper, remaining stern in her delivery. “Least of all with their troubles. Nevertheless, I fear that the war amongst the Templars and Circle mages will affect us greatly, and as Keeper of this clan I cannot ignore the looming threat against our people.”

“But that’s in Ferelden!” wails Lana in protest as she flails her arms around. “How is that our problem? We’re all the way here on the other side of the Waking Sea! It won’t affect us!”

Remaining quiet and calm, the Keeper corrects Lana, “No, da’len. It’s everywhere,” and turns her gaze away as she shakes her head. “You know what happened at Kirkwall, and this feud is the very reason we had to move camp in the first place. Which was not that long ago,” looking back up to regard Lana with fierce eyes. “We will find ourselves ill-prepared if we do not get ahead of what is being decided at this meeting. We might have to leave the Free Marches completely and find ourselves in lands unknown. Or perhaps, if we’re lucky, we can manoeuvre around the chaos, and we can stay within the Marchers. Nevertheless, until the meeting convenes and you return with a report, I cannot make a decision.”

“But why me?” cries Lana as she desperately fights to change the Keeper’s mind. “I’ve never travelled so far from our camp before! Why can't clan Alassan deliver the report to us? Why do I have to go all the way there? I’m no hunter like Lhoris! Even Tamara would fare better than me! She’s at least met with shems.”

“I have invoked a Vir Sulevanin with clan Alassan - they are helping us in exchange for a price they still have yet to name. And I suspect the reason for their silence is because they want to see how much trouble this task will be for them first.”

“But Keeper,” shouts Lana with protective rage. “How could you agree to this? I would rather have made it to Ferelden on my own then have you agree to this Vir Sulevanin on such boundless terms. They could ask anything of you now and you would have to comply! And how did you even manage to find clan Alassan in the first place? I thought the clans kept to themselves until Arlathvhen.” 

The Keeper smirks at Lana’s overprotective nature as she calmly answers, “Their Keeper - Keeper Zatlen - and I go back many, many years and both know the limit when it comes to a Vir Sulevanin. You needn’t worry about clan Alassan. And the reason I could find clan Alassan, is because both Keeper Zatlen and I have managed to acquire a map of Thedas. We have over the years, in secret, been using them to periodically inform the other of our clan's location. We have been informing each other of any significant news that the one feels the other should know. However, that doesn’t change the fact that Keeper Zatlen, like so many of our brothers and sisters, refuses to get involved with anything that involves shems. So, the only way to get Keeper Zatlen to co-operate was to-”

“-Invoke a Vir Sulevanin...”

Lana buries her head in her hands and releases a loud, audible sigh. With Lana’s gaze now turned away, and genuine agony slapped across her face, the Keeper realises that Lana doesn’t need her Keeper, Lana needs the woman who raised her since she was a little girl.

And so, The Keeper takes Lana’s hands and murmurs, “El’lana… mir da’vhenan… I know you believe you are not good enough to lead our clan. I see it in your eyes, everyday. You are far too hard on yourself, just like your papae used to be,” pulling Lana in closer, the Keeper manages to obtain her distressed gaze. “But you have your mamae’s fire within you. I have raised you since their passing, as if I were the one who birthed you. I know what you are capable of and you can do this,” taking one hand, the Keeper cups Lana’s cheek. “You must do this.”

Lana clears her throat as she ponders the momentous task supposedly asked of her. Asked not only by her Keeper, but by the woman who raised her. 

Hesitantly, Lana removes herself from the Keeper’s gentle grasp, “Ir abelas Keeper, I would do anything for you.... but this… this is too much. You ask too much of me,” and stands to pace the tent. “I’ve never left our clan before and I’ve only seen shems in passing. I sometimes get lost trying to make my way back to our own home! And now you want me to travel? To Ferelden? On my own? No, I can’t,” Lana decidedly adverts her gaze so that she may wilfully ignore the inevitable disappointment in the Keeper’s eyes. “I can’t do it.” 

The Keeper sighs as she stands to take Lana gently, but firmly by the shoulders, “El’lana listen to me, I know what I am asking you to do is a lot for you, and I wish there was another way,” 

Lana’s face begins to redden as her eyes fill with fearful and frightened tears, realising that this is in fact, not something she can say ‘no’ too. She knows the Keeper would never use the words directly, but the Keeper was in fact invoking a Vir Sulevanin, of sorts, with Lana as well. Except, the only thing Lana would want in return was to not go in the first place. 

And so, the Keeper pauses to wipe away an escaped tear, just like any mother would do when comforting their distressed child, and whispers. “Nevertheless, attending this meeting is imperative to ensuring the safety of the clan. If I were half the age I am now I would go myself, but unfortunately these tired old bones don’t get me very far these days. And as you know, Lhoris is needed here to hunt and Tamara to trade. There is no one else I trust more. It has to be you, da’len.”

Lana holds her breath as she scrunches her eyes shut, “It’s just… it’s so scary,” and opens them to regard the Keeper with tears running from her wide, lavender eyes and down her flushed cheeks. “I’m afraid… I’m afraid I’ll fail you. That I’ll fail the People. I’m afraid of what's out there.”

The Keeper brings Lana in for a motherly embrace, gently swaying them both from side to side, “Shhh… ar dirth’ma, mir da’vhenan, ar dirth’ma. Your fear will keep you wary of travelers along the way and that will keep you safe. This journey will show you that you are capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for. I know you will come back stronger and wiser,” the Keeper takes Lana by the shoulders, leans her back slightly, and looks in her eyes with sincere pride and a gentle smile. “And you will see what I’ve always seen in you.”

Lana sniffs loudly with a bashful smile and nods slightly, “Ma nuvenin, Keeper. Ar dirth’ma. I will go.”

The Keeper releases an audible sigh of relief, “I’m glad to hear it, da’len,” and turns around to sit on her makeshift, root-stump stool. “I would not ask you to take on such a journey and delicate mission if I doubted for even one moment that you would not succeed.”

With Lana now agreeing to travel on such a treacherous journey, alone, she had questions. A lot of questions.

So, Lana begins with the most pressing and logical one first, “So, when do I leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!”

“Apologises for the haste da’len, but Hahren Zelphar informed me only this evening with the latest intelligence, and according to clan Alassan, I’m afraid the meeting will take place within a fortnight. We cannot delay your departure.”

“But, Keeper!” cries Lana as she feels herself begin to panic. The news of leaving in only a matter of hours causes Lana’s head to spin, and she starts feeling nauseous.

The Keeper takes Lana by the hands, forcibly pulling her in closer, “El’lana, look at me,” and Lana snaps out of her hysteria to heed the Keeper’s words. “I need you to focus. Nothing good will come from this meeting. I can feel it in my bones.”

“But Keeper, how will I even get here? You haven’t given me any time to prepare for this journey! I don't have any coin, or change of clothes or even food!”

The Keeper releases Lana from her grip. “Do not trouble yourself, I have already made all the preparations for you,” and to Lana’s surprise, the Keeper leans over the table to grab a large rolled-up parchment. 

The Keeper stands to lay the parchment down on the table in front of them and releases the string holding it together. As the Keeper carefully opens up the parchment, revealing its contents to lay bare across the table, Lana gasps in awe as she recognises the markings on the parchment to be one of a map, “I believe,” continues the Keeper as she places her index finger on the map. “We are somewhere here within this region of the forest,” and using her finger as a guide. “You will travel south with Ilmael and Sowen to this cravis here within the Vinmark Mountains. From there they will leave you and head back home. You will go south-east along the coast to Kirkwall’s harbour. It won’t be more than a day's travel by foot,”

While concentrating on the Keeper’s every word, Lana still can’t help but wonder how and when the Keeper got hold of such a precious item. 

“Then you are to go straight to a tavern by the water's edge which I believe is called, Rucket’s Ridge, and that is where a city elf by the name of Taewen will find you. He will provide you with a change of clothes, food and a place to sleep for the night. Now, you will need to get on a ship and the only way to do so is to have Taewen sneak you in as,” the Keeper clears her throat. “As a man.”

Lana snorts out an uncontrollable giggle, “Ir abelas, Keeper. Did you say... ‘as a man’?”

The Keeper sighs, “I did, yes. If you are discovered, as a young woman, I’m afraid of… well, the shems are known to take advantage of our kind in many different ways, da’len. Especially women.”

With no further explanation needed, Lana shakes her head, “Right. Of course. Ar dirth’ma.”

“Good. Now, once Taewen safely smuggles you onto the ship as another one of their elven, male workers, you will need only to keep your head down and not speak to anyone - not even the elves. So, pretend you are mute.”

“What about my vallaslin, Keeper? Whether I am male or female, surely my vallaslin will give me away as an outsider?”

“I’ve already arranged for that, too. You must paint over your vallaslin,” Lana attempts to interjet with concern but the Keeper raises her hand with assurity. “The gods will understand. As you have already realised, a Dalish elf on a shem’s ship is not something one sees everyday, and I do not want you to stand out. You need to blend in as best you can. You understand?”

“Yes, Keeper. But how will Taewen know who to look for? We’ve never met.”

“The city’s Hahren, Serel, has asked you to wear this necklace which needs to lay atop your clothes,” the Keeper opens a tiny, wooden chest and hands Lana what appears to be the symbolic tree of Mythal etched on a tiny, coin-sized, iron disk. “Just put it on before entering the tavern, find an empty table and wait for Taewen to find you. You will also give Taewen this,” The Keeper hands Lana an ironbark knife. “He will see to it that Hahren Serel receives it. This is payment for their assistance. Do not lose this.”

“Yes, Keeper.”

“Now, as I’ve mentioned before, keep to yourself while at sea da’len, which should be no more than one nights rest. The shems that manage these ships are not like the ones Tamara and the others deal with. These are brutal, cruel men and they won’t think twice about throwing an elf such as yourself overboard if you look at them the wrong way,”

As Lana nods along assuredly at the Keepers' warnings as she drapes the necklace over her head and rests the blade gently on her lap.

“Once across, I have asked clan Alassan to guide you from Fereldan’s coastline to where the meeting will take place. I believe they are holding the meeting at a sacred temple in our people’s history - the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The shems have laid to rest the ashes of their beloved Andraste. It is a very holy place to the shems.”

“How is this temple sacred to our People? And how will I know who to look for? Do I wear the necklace?”

“Ir abelas mir da’vhenan, there isn’t time to explain this temple’s history to you. I will explain when you return. With clan Alassan, I have described your appearance in detail and told them to use this phrase when they approach you, ‘Sulevin ghilana hanin’ to which you will reply, ‘Melana en athim las enaste’. Repeat to me what you will hear.”

“Sulevin ghilana hanin.”

“And what will you say in return?”

“Melana en athim las enaste.”

“Good. Repeat those phrases to yourself as many times as necessary. Now, when it’s time to head to the temple, you will wear shem clothing, provided by clan Alassan, and sneak into this meeting so that you may gather as much information as possible. Once it’s over, clan Alassan will guide you all the way back to Fereldan’s coast, where Taewen will meet you once again and sneak you back onboard a ship. Once you’re back in Kirkwall’s harbour, head back the way you came before, and our hunter’s will meet you at the forest’s edge.”

“Keeper, I can’t believe you organised all of this. I mean, I’m not surprised because you’re amazing, but I’m still impressed. Ma serannas.”

“Of course, da’len. However, there is one last thing. What I am about to say is the most important thing above all.”

“Yes?”

“No one can know you are a mage. No one. You must never use your magic for anything. Not even to help others. Even if you come across a little one with a deadly wound you know you can heal. Not then. Not ever. You understand?”

Lana swallows hard and nods. Forcing herself to harden at the idea of not helping others should such a situation present itself.

Not even to save a child...

“I need you to say to me you understand, El’lana.”

“Yes, Keeper. I understand.”

The Keeper visibly relaxes as she hunches over and her shoulders drop, indicating that all the serious topics of their conversation have been discussed. Her duty as a Keeper fulfilled.

Lana on the other hand is only more tense, and the weight of her responsibility weighing hard on her shoulders. Lana straightens her back in obedience and looks deep into the Keeper’s eyes, “I will not fail you. I will not fail the People.”

“I know you won’t, da’len,” and the Keeper leans forward to take Lana by the sides of her face and plants a gentle kiss on her forehead before slowly sitting back down, “Your parents would be so proud of you. I am so proud of you, mir da’vhenan,” The Keeper’s eyes begin to mist. “You bring great honour to our clan. Mythal’enaste.”

“Ma serannas, Keeper. Mythal’enaste,” murmurs Lana as she returns the sentiment. "You are my family. My everything. And I already countdown the days before I am with you again.”

The Keeper's smile widens and after a silent, brief moment between them, the Keeper murmurs, “Go rest, da’len. You have a big journey ahead of you tomorrow and you need a good night's sleep. Leave the knife with me, I will prepare your pack tonight,” Lana and the Keeper stand and make their way out of the tent. “Despite the efforts I have already made in preparation for your journey, I know you will worry regardless. But please, mir da’vhenan, take to heart that I have done everything I can in preparation for your journey. You need only to walk it.”

Lana smiles sincerely and takes the Keeper gently by the hand, “Ma serannas, Keeper. I know you have done everything in your power to keep me from harm, and ensuring this mission is a success. I trust you more than life itself. Sleep well, Keeper. I will see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well, da’len. May the gods watch over you.”

Elvish to English Translation:

“Garas da’lenen” = Come on, children.

“Mir falon” = my friend

“Garas, ma vhenan” = Come on, my love.

“Mir da’vhenan” = My little-heart

“Ar dirth’ma, mir da’vhenan, ar dirth’ma” = I understand, my little-heart, I understand.

“Ma nuvenin, Keeper. Ar dirth’ma” = As you say, Keeper. I understand.

“Ir abelas mir da’vhenan” = I’m sorry, my little-heart.

“Sulevin ghilana hanin” = The knights purpose is to guide you.

“Melana en athim las enaste” = Now let humility grant favor.

“Mythal’enaste” = Mythal’s favour

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

READ ON AO3

Halla & Wolf Series

[elfrootaddict]

CLAN LAVELLAN - Chapter 4/4

DESCRIPTION: As Keeper Deshanna’s First, El'lana Aemma Lavellan is sent on her first diplomatic mission, which lies far beyond the familiarity of the Free Marches and her clan. The only home she has ever known.

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 1

As Lana begins to open her restless eyes, she can hear the morning birds sing their usual songs in the trees above, and the halla stirring in their pens. 

The cold morning chill sends shivers down Lana’s spine as she slowly and quietly gets out of her bedroll. She then notices Tamara’s bed is empty. Catching her eye, Lana spots the morning sun creeping through a small gap in the tent’s entry flap and immediately panics as she realises it’s almost passed first light.

Shit!

Suddenly Tamara opens the tent, and both young women lock eyes appearing visibly worn and distressed. 

“Tammy?” whispers Lana from across the tent in confusion as she tries not to wake Brilora and Lawyn. “What’s wrong? Why are you up so early?”

Tammy ignores Lana’s questions and rushes to her side, wrapping her arms around her as she whispers, “The Keeper told me everything. She said that you need to go to Ferelden and you would be away for at least a month,” Tamara pulls herself away, and frightfully glares at Lana with a red nose and flushed cheeks. “She told me you’re going to some temple? To spy on the shems? Alone?”

“Well…” Lana pauses as she tries to find a better way to describe the situation. Some other way lighten the mood between them. But unfortunately for Lana, pretence isn’t her forfeit, and instead settles with her default approach - honesty. “Yes. That is essentially what I’m doing. Yes.” 

“I’m going with you.” 

“Ir abelas, mir falon. You know I would take you with me if I could,” Tamara looks away with a deep-set frown and releases an irritated huff. “Tammy… please, don’t make this harder than it already is. Trust the Keeper. Trust in me.”

Tamara remains still, and quietly contemplates on her friends words. Then in a slight shift in mood, and with her bright, emerald eyes, she takes her lifelong friend’s hands, “Ir abelas. Ar dirth’ma. Of course, I trust you and the Keeper. The Keeper has told me everything she’s done for you in preparation for this journey, and I’m sure everything will be... fine. I just wish we had more time together so that I could teach you all about shems, dwarves and even our lost cousins - the city elves.” 

Lana manages a meek smile in response, and Tamara returns the same mild grin as both friends try to mask their true fears for the sake of the other.

“Well,” chimes Lana, in an attempt to relieve them both from their anxiety. “The plan is for me to blend in and not get noticed, right? So, if I’m doing everything the Keeper says I must, then there should be very little to almost no interaction with the shems. As far as city elves go, I still consider them to be elvhen. And as you also know, I will be guided through Ferelden by clan Alassan to and from the temple.”

Tamara's smile improves as she begins to feel slightly more assured of her friend's safety, “I suppose you’re right,” and with a slight tap on the back of Lana’s hand, Tamara stands. “I should be getting back to the Keeper. I was sent to make sure you were awake as you should have already been on your way,” 

Tamara quietly shuffles her way to the tent’s exit, passing Brilora and Lawyn in their bedrolls. But just before leaving, Tamara turns around to regard Lana from across the tent. For a brief moment, Tamara considers telling her friend, whom she considers to be a sister, how much she feared for her and how big the world outside of the clan really is.

But instead, Tamara settles for an empathetic grin, “I’ll let you get ready.” and turns to leave, closing the tent behind her. 

“Ma serannas…” murmurs Lana under her breath once Tamara is out of earshot.

Lana takes in a deep breath to help relieve the nerves as she begins hesitantly, and quietly changing into her clothes. Reminding herself that she must not take her staff. 

Lana steps out the tent and is momentarily blinded by the morning sunlight breaking through the leaves and tree canopy above. As Lana begins to make her way to the Keeper’s tent, she suddenly finds herself noticing, and appreciating, all the little things about her home. 

The loud yawns and hushed conversations within the surrounding tents as the clan begin to slowly wake. The halla stirring around in their pen as they wait for the halla Keeper to release them. The aravels covered in the morning dew as they stand proud with their red and white striped sails, and even the delicate water jars and pots made by their crafter seem to catch Lana’s undivided attention. 

Suddenly, everything about her home from the drying herbs in the lower branches to the sound of the halla’s happy bleats as they are released from their pen starts to gnaw at her heart.

Lana reaches the Keeper’s tent and stops in her tracks as she is not only greeted by the Keeper, but a somber Tamara, Ilmael and Sowen - her assigned hunter escorts - and a surprisingly distressed Lhoris. 

“Good morning, da’len,” announces the Keeper. “I hope you got enough rest. I’ve informed Tamara and Lhoris of your departure this morning, as I know you would have wanted to say your goodbyes before you left.” 

“Ma serannas, Keeper,” Lana walks closer to the group standing before her but can’t help but impulsively make quick side glances at Lhoris, who has never appeared so grieved before in his life. “Ir abelas, for missing first light. I didn’t get much sleep. But I’m ready now,” Lana regards Ilmael and Sowen with a soft smile. “Ma serannas for taking me through the forest and to the mountain’s pass. I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course, Lana.” chimes Sowen with a slight respectful bow.

“We wouldn’t want you to get lost like you always do.” quips Ilmael causing Sowen to softly laugh in return. 

“Hey!” barks Lhoris with violent anger. “You will make sure El gets to where she needs to be safely or so help me... I will Vir Tanadhal you both all the way to Falon’Din.”

Both hunters perk up and Ilmael, the shorter of the two, submissively murmurs, “Yes, Lhoris. Ir abelas, Lana.” 

“That’s okay, Ilmael.” 

“Ma serannas for your input Lhoris,” remarks the Keeper. “I’m sure Ilmael and Sowen will take good care of our Lana for us. While you three say your goodbyes, I will take Ilmael and Sowen with me as I wish to discuss the day’s route,” The Keeper turns her gaze to the two hunters. “Garas, you two. Let us leave them be for the moment.”

Lana walks closer towards her friends and looks up at Lhoris compassionately who is avoiding any eye contact with her, and then turns to Tamara who is holding a rucksack in her arms. 

“Everything you need is in this bag,” announces Tamara as she hands the bag over to Lana. “The Keeper said it has everything you need, as well as the knife? I’m sure you know what that means.”

Lana reaches for the rucksack, “Ma serannas, Tammy.” and proceeds to place it on her back as the two friends continue to stare at each other longingly. With no words left between them, the two friends share a brief, quiet moment before simultaneously leaping forward for an emotional embrace.

“I am going to miss you both so much,” murmurs Lana. “I’ll find some ink and parchment so that I can write down my journey.  When I return, I will be able to read them to you.”

“That’s a great idea!” cries Tamara as she releases her friend. “I can’t wait to hear about all the things you’ve seen. You’ll be able to tell us how cold Ferelden really is. And you’re even going to see the ocean!”

“Oh yes, that’s true!” giggles Lana excitedly. “I hadn’t even realised. That is pretty exciting.” 

As the girls’ laughs fade, Lana turns her gaze back to Lhoris who has continued to remain reserved the entire time.

“Lhoris?” murmurs Lana with concern as she approaches him.

“Vhenan?” chimes Tamara as she takes him by the arm. “It’s going to be okay. The Keeper has prepared everything, and you know how cautious Lana is. She’ll be fine.” 

Lhoris peers down towards his beloved, and with a forceful, taciturn expression he eventually acknowledges the two concerned women around him, “Ar dirth’ma, vhenan.” and turns to Lana with a meek smile.

Noticing Lhoris’s guard to protect himself from spiralling emotionally, she decides that perhaps initiating an embrace from her closest, and dearest friend, would only cause him more pain. In fact, perhaps it was best if things were left more casually between them. Dragging out their goodbyes would just make leaving that much harder, and the journey that much more arduous. Nevertheless, would one single hug from her friend be so terrible? Would that cause her to literally run in the other direction and refuse to go? 

Instead, she simply offers a safe, sincere smile in return. 

“Okay, well…” announces Lana with false confidence. “I’ll see you both soon. Dareth shiral.”

“Dareth shiral, Lana.” murmurs Tammy as she strokes the side of Lana’s arm. 

Looking out ahead of her, Lana walks past her friends and forces herself to not look back. Instead, she keeps her head down and fixes her gaze on her footsteps, ensuring she’s taking one step at a time. As she can feel her home almost truly behind her, she begins to fiddle with the ring on her finger that Tamara had given her only yesterday. Without her staff, she now has nothing to keep her hands busy to calm the nerves.

Coming up over a small hill, Lana notices the silhouettes of the Keeper at the fringes of the forest as she’s still talking to Ilmael and Sowen.  

Suddenly, Lana is almost knocked off her feet as someone grabs her from behind. Before she can even react, she is forcefully spun around and brought even closer, her face buried into their chest.

“You be safe - you hear me?” cries Lhoris. “Creators Lana… if you get yourself killed... I will… I will…” Lhoris grabs Lana by the shoulders and brings her out in front of him. “I will find you in the Beyond and Vir Tanadhal you all the way-”

“Lhoris-”

“Just promise me, El,” barks Lhoris with furrowed brows and distressed eyes. “Promise me you will watch out for yourself. Watch out for those shems and trust nobody, okay? Not even those dirty, city elves. I know you have this weird soft-spot for them. Creators... if you don’t come back-”

“Lhoris!” Lana grabs hold of his arms with a firm grip. “It’s going to be okay. Trust the Keeper, and trust me. I’ll be back in time to help you and Tammy with all the ceremony preparations. Don’t worry. We’ll all be together, again soon. I promise.”

Lhoris pulls away from Lana’s grip and throws his hands in the air, “How could you possibly know that, Lana? Anything could happen! You could fall into a hole. You could be thrown overboard by those shem bastards. Clan Alassan could “lose” you in the Fereldan forests-”

“Lhoris…”

“You could be murdered by bandits-”

“Lhoris…”

“A… a dragon could come down and feed you to its little baby dragons!”

“Lhoris! Stop! You’re freaking me out! You know me better than anybody, and you know how scared I am right now. I won’t do anything risky or stupid.”

Lhoris stops and looks down at Lana. His mannerism subtly turned from a panic-stricken state to being wholly serious, “Promise?”

Lana takes a deep breath and looks deep into her friend's eye, “I promise. From the tallest tree, to the deepest waters.”

Lhoris sighs as he drops his head with a heavy heart and sincere smile, “I will trust you all the way, little sister.”

Ever since Lana and Lhoris were children playing together in the forest, they always found themselves in numerous occasions where the situation might suddenly be proven treacherous. Lhoris was the kind of person who would act first before thinking, and Lana would think before acting. Given their different natures, sometimes they would need to trust the other completely on the rare occasion that would require complete faith in the other to see them both survive. When such a situation would arise, the one requesting the trust of the other would say ‘from the tallest trees, to the deepest waters’, and the one giving their trust would respond with ‘I will trust you all the way’.

It was something only the two of them shared. Not even Tamara knew about it. It was something they had made as a pack many years ago, and something they only said occasionally. So, when the words were said it was a moment onto itself, and something neither one took lightly. It required one to trust the other completely, without compromise. Complete faith in the other to see them both through something perilous. 

Lhoris takes Lana in for a gentler embrace and releases a deep breath, “Ar dirth’ma. Ir abelas. You are… well, you know. It’s just… you’re sort-of like my family and-” 

Lana playfully pushes herself away and snorts, “Sort-of like?”

Rolling his eyes, Lhoris decides that if he were to ever say what Lana meant to him, now would be the time, “Agh! Okay, fine. Yes! You are my family, and I love you, and I want you to come home. Okay? There. I said it.” 

Lana releases a soft smile, “Ar lath ma, Lhoris.” and brings her friend in for a gentle embrace.

“Lana!” cries the Keeper in the distance. 

The two friends part and Lana turns to wave at the Keeper in acknowledgement, “Coming!”

Lana turns back around, and without the need to say anything else, she settles for an appropriate play-punch to his shoulder, and Lhoris pretends to wince at the pain. 

“Bye, El. Dareth shiral.”

“Dareth shiral, Lhoris.”

Elvish to English Translation:

“Ir abelas, mir falon” = I’m sorry, my friend

“Ir abelas. Ar dirth’ma” = I’m sorry. I understand

“Ma serannas” = Thank you

“Vir Tanadhal” = Way of the Three Trees

“Garas, you two” = Come one, you two

“Ar dirth’ma, vhenan” = I understand, heart

“Dareth shiral” = farewell/ safe journey

“Ar lath ma, Lhoris” = I love you, Lhoris

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 

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Halla & Wolf Series

[elfrootaddict]

SHE IS THE KEY - Chapter 2/5

DESCRIPTION: Solas is desperate to meet the person who survived the explosion at the Conclave. Things certainly didn’t go as planned.

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 2

Solas takes his staff from the ground and stands to sit on the steps behind him. With the prisoner still lying unconscious on the floor, he gazes over her lifeless demeanour as she taunts him with questions. Almost mocking him.

Who are you? How could have possibly survived? Where is my orb?

Solas swings his backpack off his shoulders and brings it between his feet. Hunching over he takes out several parchments of paper, a magically sealed ink pot, a quill, and then neatly places his backpack next to him. Like any good scholar, Solas decides to ink down his thoughts. 

Frustrated with the poorly lit room, he raises his left hand and with a single gesture increases the size of the fire on the torches. The fires now burn double their normal size and therefore, doubling the light coming from them. Pleased, Solas puts his ink pot down on the step next to him, dips his quill and begins to write in Ancient Elvish.

8440 FA:

No sign of the orb. The orb has been successfully unlocked. Corypheus has perished, as expected. I haven’t seen any of my agents. They are safe then. The Temple of Sacred Ashes completely destroyed. Everyone within is dead. Except, for the prisoner. 

There is a monumentally large hole in the Veil. Not my doing. A rift lies directly underneath it. It is the sauce of the Breach. I have met with Lady Cassandra, Right Hand of the Divine. Used to be a Seeker. She has agreed to give me access to the prisoner and accepts my help to seal the Breach. 

The prisoner is Dalish. She has blood writing of Mythal. Not one of mine. Female. Young. Perhaps 25-30 years of age? She is wearing shem clothes. A spy for her clan? Her face is horribly wounded. In order for her to communicate, I will need to heal her. 

Then without warning, the ominous magic violently sparks back to life, filling the room with its bright, green glow. Solas stops writing to observe and after a moment, it abruptly stops. Solas then dips his quill back into the ink pot and proceeds in finishing up his writing. 

The prisoner has the Anchor. But not the orb. It has left an entrance wound. Will need to heal that, too. 

Putting his quill and papers down, Solas gets up and walks towards the prisoner. He kneels down in front of her with his feet tucked underneath him as he attempts to study the Anchor. He couldn’t care less about the deformities on this elf’s face for the moment. 

However, Solas quickly realises that should the prisoner wake up, the laceration running across her mouth would prevent her from speaking, and Cassandra wouldn’t be happy about that. Reluctantly shifting his priorities, Solas groans as he takes hold of her shoulders and guides the prisoner onto her back. Her figure now elegantly twisting as her hips still lie on their side while her face and chest look up towards the ceiling. 

Holding his hands just above her face, Solas’s hands light up with white-blue cleansing magic. Before he can heal her trauma, he first needs to remove all the blood from her skin so he can see exactly how best to heal her wounds. 

As his hands slowly glide and hover above her face, the blood begins to slowly lift off in tiny particles, and just before reaching his hands do they disintegrate entirely. With her face all cleaned up, Solas can now get a better look at this impostor. He brings his hands down onto his lap and stares at the prisoner with unwavering curiosity. Looking for answers that are perhaps hidden beneath her motionless face. 

Unexpectedly however, only one truth reveals itself to him. 

She is… beautiful.

Shaken and disturbed by his carnal, distractive thoughts he blinks hard to regain his focus. 

Impossibly angry with himself for noticing her beauty, he folds his brows into a deep frown and once again raises his hands towards her face. With full concentration, Solas magically sows her skin back together. Should she have been one of his agents, he would have taken a little more care in healing her. However, he just needs her to be able to communicate, and he doesn’t have the luxury of taking his time. Solas drops his hands and observes his hastened work. The two healed wounds have left large scars on the prisoner’s skin. Echoing what was once there.

Good enough. She should be able to speak now. 

Solas then moves his attention to her hands as he takes hold of her left wrist and raises her shackled hands up towards him. With the same impatient attitude, he places his a hand over her mark and begins to heal the deep laceration, too. 

As he begins to heal her hand, the Anchor flares up again. Startled by the violent outburst, Solas falls and stumbles backwards. Having been so close to the magic that came from the Anchor, Solas begins to experience small shocks of electricity all along his arm. 

The Anchor is unstable. This elf doesn’t have the ability to contain its power! 

Now furious, Solas scowls at the seemingly undisturbed prisoner before him. This Dalish elf has stolen his Anchor and clearly lacks the ability to contain it. Sitting back up, he violently grabs her shackles, peels back her fingers and looks even closer at his stolen treasure. 

Allowing his emotions to get the better of him, he looks at the prisoner with raw fury burning in his eyes as he barks in Elvish, “How did you come by the orb?! Where is it now? Why were you there? Why did you interfere?” 

Silence.

Solas tosses the prisoner’s hands away with frustration and resentment. Now sitting on his rear with his legs bent and feet planted on the floor, he buries his face in his hands. After a moment, he takes in a long, deep breath and eventually releases it, warming his icy hands. He then rests his elbows on his knees, with arms dangling casually, and looks up at the ceiling above him. Agitated, bitter and terrified, Solas almost starts to weep.

What am I to do now? At least Corypheus is dead. At least that has gone to plan. 

Solas decides he needs to calm his mind and emotions. He cannot think clearly while being so worked up. His anger and self pity isn’t going to help him. He then sits straight up with his legs crossed and brings his hands towards mouth as if he is about to pray. He then chuckles quietly to himself at such a silly notion. 

As he proceeds to close his eyes, he can feel his mind begin to concentrate as tries to figure this out logically out-loud in Elvish, “Corypheus had the orb. But, the prisoner has the Anchor. To receive the Anchor one must hold onto the orb. Therefore, the prisoner held the orb as it unlocked. But how did she survive? 

“To survive the explosion, she would have to have to have been somewhere else entirely. However, with the Anchor in her hand she couldn’t have been anywhere else but the Conclave. With Corypheus. 

“Cassandra mentioned that they found the prisoner under the rift. The rift is a gateway into the Fade. Therefore, there is only one explanation. The prisoner had somehow managed to obtain the orb. The orb then bestowed the Anchor onto her. And using the power of the Anchor, she then opened a rift, intentional or not, and entered the Fade… physically.” 

Solas opens his eyes wide from shock in his revelation. He cannot believe the undeniable truth to this theory. 

No, not theory. Fact. 

Realising that the only conclusion that this mere Dalish elf walked through the Fade physically, and survived is… miraculous. Solas is almost impressed. Perhaps there is more to her than he anticipated. Nevertheless, Solas can’t help but also feel a bit envious. He has only been able to enter the Fade in dream state and has wanted nothing more than to be able to walk through the Fade in his physical form.

With time running out, Solas decides to run some magical tests to hopefully unveil more certain, relevant truths. Even though it has only been a year since waking from utherena, Solas’s magical talents are still far superior to any other mage around. Just as one would expect from an Ancient Elf.

Solas stretches his arms out in front of him, closes his eyes, and clears his mind to focus only on the prisoner. He can feel primordial magic lying beneath her skin. Pumping through in her blood with every steady heart beat and coursing through her veins as well. 

She’s a mage. 

He can also feel the magic from the Anchor and it is spreading. He can sense it slowly clawing its way through her body, like a sickness. At this rate, it will completely take over her body within a matter of days. And considering that the Anchor is already so unstable, she will most likely die as a result. 

Solas is tempted by the idea. The orb can only connect to one Anchor at a time, and if she were to die, the orb would then be free to bestow another. And this time, it would be with Solas.

However, in the back of his mind two issues gnaw at him. 

The first being, Lady Cassandra. She would not take kindly to the fact that Solas allowed the prisoner to die. She would most likely have him imprisoned or killed for not producing the results he so confidently promised her. 

And the second far more important issue, is the Breach. With the Veil so unstable, there is currently hundreds of Spirits pouring through rifts across the valley. Most of them being innocent Spirits being twisted against their very nature as they are forced into the living world. 

And without having any idea of where the orb is, who knows how long it would take before he would find it before he could restore order, and save the Spirits from torment. 

With resentment, Solas realises he actually needs the prisoner. She needs to stay alive. If she is able to open rifts, then she should be able to close them. And in turn, seal the Breach. 

She is the key.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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Halla & Wolf Series

[elfrootaddict]

SHE IS THE KEY - Chapter 4/5

DESCRIPTION: Solas is desperate to meet the person who survived the explosion at the Conclave. Things certainly didn’t go as planned.

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 2

Solas is so incredibly tired of at all. 

He can feel the stress pressing down onto his chest. His eyes are heavy and his body is aching. He can’t accept any of this is truly happening. How did it go so incredibly wrong? Besides the orb being unlocked, nothing else has gone to plan. Nothing has turned out as it should have. The consequences of his failure gnawing and haunting him. 

With the anger and stress overwhelming in, Solas begins to clench his fists so tight that his knuckles turn white that he almost pierces his skin with his nails. He finally releases his hands and decides to finish what he started. He can’t stand being around these humans and this Dalish thief any longer.

Kneeling back down, he finishes healing the laceration on the prisoner’s hand. When it’s finally done he stands back up and holds his staff out in front of him. Normally he would of been able to control the Anchor, without the need of his staff, however with his true abilities still relatively debilitated he needs a bolster his power. 

Solas closes his eyes and begins to access his ancient talents. It’s literally been a millennia since he has had to use such an enchantment and Solas is almost trembling in anticipation.

His staff lights up and is surrounded with pale, green energy. It flows and swirls like water in the air, its gentle stream encircling Solas and the prisoner. The exponential rush of the ancient power coursing through his mind and body feels like a cold breeze on a hot summer’s day. The familiar energy filling his lungs and licking his face. The tiny hairs at the back of this neck rise, sending shivers down his spine and he falls into a trance of elated emotions.

Solas takes hold of the magic from the Anchor in the prisoner’s body, releasing its clutches and subdues it into submission. The old magic obeys and falls silent as it is now completely isolated to the prisoner’s left hand. However, with the Breach still in the sky, Solas knows this won’t last long. In fact, the Anchor’s magic will always be killing the prisoner as she is simply a mere mortal. And no mere mortal could ever handle such power that is bestowed by an orb. 

All Solas can do for her is delay the inevitable.

Releasing his mind from the trance, the ancient energy dissipates and he is left feeling warm and wholly satisfied with his success. Finally able to take his leave, Solas gathers his things, puts his pack on his back and darts for the door.

But before leaving, he looks over his shoulder and takes another look at the prisoner behind him. Her face still silent, with the only movement coming from her is her chest as it slowly rises and then falls. And without fail, the Anchor fires up again, filling the room with its static energy that Solas can almost taste it. 

You have no idea what you have done, do you? But you will. Dirthara-ma. 

And then steps out of the room, closing the door behind him and then winds his way back to main hall of Haven’s Chantry. Once outside, Solas takes in a deep breath and fills his lungs to the brim with the cold, crisp winter air. He then looks out towards the horizon and stares at the hole in the sky. 

It is beautiful, in its own way. The mighty green storm hovering above as it swirls around its own eye. And from its eye, it trails down and connects to the magnanimous rift in the temple below. It’s so powerful that gigantic boulders of the earth and pieces of the temple are floating in its clutches in a slow, almost hypnotic dance. 

With all that has transpired, Solas feels he needs to confide in a friend. He certainly could use some sound advice from Wisdom or even receive a good pep talk from Courage. He then looks at the people of Haven who are running around frantically. Some healing, and others barking orders. This is where the true chaos lies, not in the sky. 

The aftermath of the Conclave feels all too familiar to Solas having seen this before in a time that has long since passed. And many times more in the memories lying deep within the Fade. 

Solas walks through all the commotion and out of Haven’s main gate. He then takes a right and treads through the forest in thick, freshly fallen snow. After making considerable distance between himself and Haven, he sits down on a rock beneath a frozen tree and rests his head against its rough bark. Once comfortable enough, Solas creates wards around himself for protection as he enters dream state. It doesn’t take him long, as he is more often dreaming than being awake, and his connection to the Fade is old and strong. Once his eyes are closed, his mind is turns black and empty as there is no more visual stimulus of the world around him.

Ever so slowly, the impressionable world of the Fade starts to fill his mind’s eye. It always starts off blurry and in fragments. Eventually, his vision turns clear and crisp. He can see the green haze, warped reality and tiny particle fragments lifting off the ground and into the air all around him. 

Nothing makes Solas feel more at home than the Fade. It is his only real connection left to what was once a daily experience for him ages ago. It was as natural to experience the Fade as it is to breathe.  

Solas starts to wonder around and tries to find any Spirit that he can engage in, “Wisdom? Courage? Mana. Ma halani. Mir elgar-falon.”

Absolute silence. 

Solas’s heart drops and starts to feel a considerable amount of concern for the Spirits he expected to encounter. They always welcome him as he would talk and wonder the Fade for hours with them. He understood them. But more importantly, they understood him. 

After wondering for a considerable amount of time without any encounters from his friends, Solas realises this has been for naught. 

I hope they are alright and haven’t been twisted. 

Solas groans and realises he isn’t going to get any advice or guidance here, and he snaps his mind back into the living world. He lets out a heavy sigh as the waking world can never be what the Fade is to him. Thedas to him, is what the Fade is to Thedas. It’s unfamiliar, frightening and scary. 

No one truly dares to discover the Fade’s hidden marvels, wonders and knowledge in this current living world. Not unless they want to use the Fade for nefarious and selfish reasons. And with the help of the Chantry, everyone alive today sees the Fade as this frightening place where only demons and monsters reside. And while that is true, there are also beautiful parts of the Fade and the truly wonderful Spirits that inhabit them. Just like Thedas, there is the pure and the demented. Both sides of the same coin. 

Living up to his namesake, Solas decides he alone must fix this mess if there is ever to be peace and order, albeit temporarily, so that he may find his missing orb. He has no faith in Cassandra being able stop the Breach and clearly, she has no faith in him. And who knows if the prisoner might ever wake up. 

No, I alone must to do this. I have to try attempt to seal the rifts myself.

Taking great strides through the snow, he finds the path that leads to the destroyed Temple of Sacred Ashes. As he reaches the top of the hill, he sees two guards standing in front of a large stone entrance with its massive, wooden Fereldan doors. As Solas approaches, they remove their swords from their scabbards and try to prevent him from coming through. 

Solas exclaims with his hands raised, “Peace! I mean you no harm!” dropping his hands. “Lady Cassandra has explicitly given me permission to help fend off the demons. Please, let me through.”

“How do we know if you are telling the truth, mage?” one of them shouts.

“You don’t. But if I were here with malicious intent, surely I am outnumbered by at least a hundred of you? Therefore, it wouldn’t take long for you to strike me down if you so wished, yes? So then why would I come here if I meant you harm?”

The guards exchange cautious glances.

Solas continues to convince them, “The fact of the matter is, is that this hole in the sky dooms us all. Surely you won’t pass up on any help when it is presented to you so willingly? We all need to band together to defeat this evil, do we not?”

After a considerable amount of silence, they sheath their swords and then open the doors to the bridge, “Very well. You may enter,” says the other. “But we will be confirming your claim with Lady Cassandra.”

“You do that,” smirks Solas. “I am no pretender.”

Once Solas is through and on the bridge, the guards close the mammoth sized doors behind him. And without fail, everyone on the bridge turns to face him. As Solas walks across, he can’t help but see the variety of emotions slapped across their faces. Clearly, they have no shame in hiding their true feelings about his presence. And their reactions always stem from two things; he’s an elf and he’s a mage. The two concoctions damning him wherever he goes. 

At least in the Fade this is never an issue. The Spirits care more about what is within than one’s outward appearance. 

I am here to save you, and all you can do is mock the knife-ear.

Finally reaching the end of the bridge, Solas winds his way up and through the valley. He eventually crosses a frozen lake with the temple almost within reach. All he needs to do now is to climb a few steep steps and he will be standing amongst the temple’s rubble.

As he reaches the top of the stairs, he hears a rift violently rip a hole in the Veil and demons come pouring out of the Fade in alarming numbers. Their loud, high pitched screeches and cries send shivers down Solas’s spine. 

Using his connection to the Fade, Solas instinctively wraps himself with a protective enchantment and runs to hide behind a piece of rubble wall. Before he engages, he needs to see what he is dealing with. It’s been a long time since he’s been in the heat of battle and Solas is not one to do anything without a plan. 

Peering over the top of the rubble wall, Solas sees three shade demons and a couple of wraiths. Knowing that they were most likely innocent spirits before being pulled through the rift unwillingly, Solas aches to see them being turned against their very nature. He knows he has no choice but to end their suffering, but first he must try to seal the rift so that no more spirits can come through and suffer the same fate. 

With his battle plan now in mind, he stands up from his hiding spot and exposes his position to the demons wondering the rubble below. Using almost all his energy to connect to the Fade, he access the same magic he used ages ago to attempt to seal the rift. 

Solas cries out in agony as he reaches the climax of his abilities and realises his magic did nothing in sealing the rift. In fact, all it’s done is announce his presence to the demons below.

“Fenedhis!”

“Maker, did I just see you try to destroy that thing yourself?”

Solas spins around on his heel and is completely dumbfounded to see a dwarven man running up the steps behind him. He is dressed in red rogue armour and is carrying the most peculiar crossbow out in front of him. But most alarmingly of all, is that the split of his tunic opens all the way down his chest, stopping just above his naval. 

And because of this, clearly intentional choice of style, it allows his thick, golden and luscious chest hair to burst forth for all the world to see.

Elvish to English Translations:

“Dirthara-ma.” = May you learn (curse)

“Mana. Ma halan. Mir elgar-falon.” = Help me my spirit friend(s)

“Fenedhis!” = shit!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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Halla & Wolf Series