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Yeah that’s the evil Dread Wolf alright…

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas #dragon age solas #dragonage #dragon age fanart #digital fanart #digital art #fanart digital #fanart #solas dread wolf #dread wolf

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

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

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

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

_____________________

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

Chapter 14 | Solas joins the Inquisition.

Chapter 20 | Dorian appears in Haven.

Chapter 21

Solas didn't notice the Herald and her party leaving Haven at midday because he spent that time in the fade, solely for research reasons of course. Later, when he left his dwelling place again, he moved very carefully, inspecting the buildings across from him. To his relief, he sensed nothing out of the ordinary. His nightly endeavour might as well have been a dream.

Then he made his way through the village, curious to find out what happened. Who that man was. Looking around, he saw people flock the tavern, a clear sign that evening fell already. He considered to have a meal there himself, so he could overhear their conversations. As he navigated through the room, his gaze found Varric – the red garment would always stand out – and his fellow readers at their favourite table. Surprised to see the dwarf back in Haven, he went into their direction.

Varric caught him first. “Hey, Chuckles, you're still alive?”, was his odd greeting for him. “Obviously”, Solas answered as he stopped in front of the table. “Why do you ask?” “Because the Herald looked for you everywhere. She wanted to take you along this time.” “Cassandra almost knocked your door down. 'Solas, if you are in there, answer me now!'”, Vanilla described in a perfect imitation of the accent. And temper. “I thought she's actually going to tear the house down, but something stopped her. Made her fly backwards.” She threw her arms up to emphasize. “Oh, to be a mage and secure your door like that”, Recruit cooed.

The group had fun while Solas swallowed his frustration. He missed the chance to go with her simply because he lost control over himself. It should never happen again. “I hope she was not harmed by my spell”, he pressed out. “Nah, she's fine”, Varric waved him off. “Hurt her pride, probably. She left with the new party again. That woman never takes a break.” “But seriously, where have you been?”, Asher wanted to know. Solas' ears lowered. Avoiding everyone's eyes, he answered: “I am afraid I must have been too consumed by my research. I did not hear her.” An awkward pause followed, in which Vanilla and Recruit tried to hold back their laughter and failed and the others didn't know how to react. Gambler, Lady Marielle and Bodkin pretended to be focused on their dices. Asher just silenced.

“What happened in Redcliffe? Did you bring the rebels here?”, Solas went on to the more important matter, looking at Varric. The dwarf took a deep breath. “Er, not yet. First, we just discovered an even bigger pile of shit.” He paused to drink his ale while Solas' nerves almost popped. “What does that mean, Varric? Did the Herald accuse them to be the attacker of the conclave?” Varric let his mug fall back on the table with a thud. His features darkened. “Something awful is going on there”, he muttered. “Fiona didn't even remember she invited us back in Val Royeaux. When we met her again, she had already pledged the rebels to Tevinter cultists. They promise to protect the mages, but for real, they're just trying to conquer the world again or something. Always the same with Tevinters.” Solas felt the news like a kick in the guts. “But how...?”

“The void do I know. Their leader, a Magister named Alexius, well, he's just the usual, full of shit, but his son is a good soul. He gave us a hint that we're in trouble and arranged a meeting with his friend who's a former apprentice of Alexius. He told us what Alexius is working on to restore the glory of Tevinter. Guess what it is?” He actually paused for Solas to guess. Solas shook his head as he pondered. “Something to reconnect with the Old Gods? To destroy all creation?” “Nah, even better. Time magic.” Solas furrowed his brows. “Time magic?” “U-huh. We've seen it already. The rifts in Redcliffe actually altered time, slowed things down and sped others up. Don't ask me exactly how this works, but the Tevinters already used it to get to Fiona before us. We needed a good plan, that's why Ellana decided to come back. Now they're going to surprise attack them with a group of Leliana's spies. I hope it's not too late, whatever that means now.”

Solas silently processed this information, rubbing his temples. Now he regretted even more that he wasn't there. “Do you know anything about time magic, Chuckles?”, Varric went on. “That's why Cassandra was so fierce about talking to you. She thought if anyone would know something about this, it's you.” So the Seeker had finally remembered him and requested his knowledge. This could've been a triumph if the topic wasn't so dire. “I must admit I have never heard about it before”, he said quietly. “Huh....I guess it's all on Sparkler then.” “Who?” “Dorian Pavus, the apprentice. He went with them.” Solas suspected that he knew that person already. “Is he trustworthy?”, he asked perhaps a bit too urgently. “So far, I think he's genuine about saving his old mentor from himself, so as long as he's helping with that, he's fine by me.” Solas sighed. The least he needed now would be a Tevinter spy at his heels.

At the journey to Redcliffe Castle, Dorian did his best to appear in good shape, after secretly downing a healing potion before their departure. The Inquisition's party turned out to be quite some piece of work even without an aching backside to care for.

The “Seeker of Truth” openly frowned at him whenever the chance occurred. She obviously kept her resentments against “another Tevinter.”

Vivienne de Fer was the sort of person he knew from home – always searching for the nerve to hit. She thoroughly studied him the entire time, most curiously, as a Grand Enchanter of a circle that agreed to keep her kind in chains. She would've been more fun if he wasn't actually trying to hide an obvious weakness. While pretending to not care, she commented on his health conditions, (“The Southern climate doesn't seem to do you well, my dear. My deepest condolences.”), corrected his posture on his horse, addressed his lacking amount of experience in the wilderness – very amusing, coming from her – and the dark rings under his eyes, all this during casual smalltalk.

Meanwhile, there was a Qunari in the group, a Ben Hassrath, with the descriptive name “The Iron Bull”. He spared Dorian the entertaining comments, but still seemed to examine him with his side glances. Considering the multitude of observations a Qunari spy was said to make from superficially mundane things, there were many options: Did he analyse the textiles of his robe to figure out where he came from, which market he bought it and - most importantly, how heinous his character was judging by how he wrapped the ensemble around his body? Did he check on the poor state of his hair since the lack of needed products in Ferelden? Did he search for the spot that hurt the most when he would hit it with his giant axe? Or did he stare at him for a completely different reason?

The thought popped up in his head. If he could continue what he had already started, abandon all caution and his self-esteem and later drown the after effects in cheap Fereldan wine. It would feel just like home. If he could even manage yet. He could hardly blame Bull, if that was even his intention and not the wish to chain him up and sew his mouth shut. If Dorian was honest to himself, right now, he felt more comfortable thinking about the second option.

After a while, he noticed the Herald's look on him and found disappointment in it. Seemed like the healing potion didn't quite cover everything. That or she just didn't like Tevinters, what would make sense for a Dalish elf.

To his luck, she had her hands full with Sera, an elven rogue, who refused to be serious about anything, laughed an schemed with Bull, shouted “now kiss” at Cassandra and Vivienne, when Madame began another conversation about the Seeker's fortitude, openly spoke about her sexual preferences, so that Dorian wondered if she was making fun of it – what else could it be? - and as a highlight, showed Vivenne her naked arse and then climbed on Bull's shoulders, cackling.

It was definitely not what Dorian expected from the Inquisition with the Herald of Andraste in their midst. But at least he didn't feel too exotic as a Tevinter. He was sure that for an outsider, he'd fit right in.

They made him think that someone like Solas would match this group as well. The mysterious elf was the other reason why Dorian couldn't quite focus on conversations. Solas occupied his mind as he tried to recall what happened that night. He hadn't seen him again after that, he might as well have been a very convincing desire demon who now looked elsewhere for a victim. The option sounded less ridiculous than his own memories. A glowing elf – nonsense! Unless that was normal for elves? He knew their eyes glowed in the dark, like cat's eyes. But their entire body?

Meek glances at Ellana in the evening proved that theory wrong. Sera didn't glow either. Did elves have to be, well, in a certain mood for that? There'd surely be Tevene essays about the matter if that was the case. Of course, Dorian didn't dare to ask. Didn't ask about Solas' existence in general, fearing he'd have to explain why he cared. He sat alone at the dying camp fire at guard duty, staring into the darkness and missing the light. Lacking the required wine, his mind kept spinning around the same thoughts over and over again.

The events in Redcliffe left their marks on him. Alexius couldn't be reasoned with. He attacked Ellana - and Dorian, trying to save her, was sent with her into the future. Reappearing one year later, they faced the terrible outcome of their absence. Everything happened too fast for Dorian to truly wrap his head around and in hindsight, he knew it saved him from panicking. But the danger had been palpable, the possibility to be stuck here forever in the dungeons full of red lyrium, exposed to their heat and pulse as the world outside burned. He just moved on, clinging to the only plan he had, to find Alexius' amulet and travel back to the past.

In the dire situation, Ellana and him worked together as one. Suddenly, it didn't matter who they were, they had to trust each other. Dorian had the inscrutable feeling that she warmed up to him. She had always been indifferent about his charm, but now she began to melt, giggled quietly at his remarks and even retorted. Of course, it could have been her method to cope with the horrors around her. In any case, they worked their spells together and their auras found a harmony they could both hold onto.

Ellana wasn't he only person he began to see differently. On their way through the dungeon, they were lucky to find the other members of their party who had been imprisoned for an entire year. The red lyrium had taken a toll on them, but despite that, they stood strong, even the childish rogue. In the end, every single one of them gave their life so that Ellana and him could travel back in time and undo the future. They didn't remember what happened, but Dorian did, thinking that they might be just the right people for the Inquisition.

He travelled back to Haven as a different man, knowing that his former mentor was now a prisoner in Redcliffe and most likely to be executed. Despite everything, he was glad to be back from the horrible future and to have proven his worth. Now that the group knew he saved their Herald and thus the world, the bickering stopped. And Ellana still laughed at his jokes. Solas didn't seem to be much of an obstacle anymore. Dorian was sure he'd overcome whatever scenario he would face in Haven.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #solas/dorian #dragon age solas #dragon age dorian #maker preserve #dragon age varric #dragon age cassandra #ellana lavellan

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Been playing Dragon Age games again and got inspired to draw all my favorite companions

#wow #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age inquisition #morrigan #morrigan dragon age

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I love that coat 🩵

#but i have no patience for lineart #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas #dragon age solas #dreadwolf #dragon age dreadwolf #digital fanart #digital art #fanart digital #fanart

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an elven god is watching you…

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas #dragon age solas #digital fanart #digital art #fanart digital

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A little wip of Solas

#aww #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas

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another Thia's portrait

#beautiful #dragon age #inquisitor lavellan

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Joining 🍷🌟

#damn #dragon age #dragon age origins #sarikh surana #duncan dragon age #dragon age duncan

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EVANURIS | THE CREATORS

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas dragon age #da: dreadwolf #mythal #just love to see everyone's design of the evanuris

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Morrigan, Dragon Age Inquisition

I keep trying to paint with gouache, a request from a friend - Morrigan. I personally prefer her design from DA:O, but was asked to paint an Inquisition version.

Ref

Material - Gouache. Trying designer set of Schmincke this time. Really pleasant to work with, but weird choice of colours. Though I wouldn't have been able to do it without magenta in this case.

#morrigan #dragon age #da: inquisition

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

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

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

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

_____________________

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

Chapter 14 | Solas joins the Inquisition.

Chapter 20 | Dorian appears in Haven.

Chapter 20

Solas trudged through the following days, longing for the Herald to come back, either with the rebels as prisoners or as allies. Both was possible and he hated that he couldn't even witness this important event. He wished he could watch them in the fade, but such power remained beyond hope for him. So he suffered quietly, busying himself with training the mages and pausing from time to time to do “research”. At some point, he actually went into the Chantry's library to borrow books, thus surprising Mother Giselle with his interest in Andraste and engaging him in a conversation. Although her knowledge was influenced by Chantry propaganda, he actually enjoyed to hear about the common believe. The truth hid somewhere between the lines.

When he didn't read or train, he attempted to be social - with varying success. He met Asher and his party again to play and chat in the tavern. After all, reading books about humans wasn't the same as talking to them in person. However, during their evenings, he realized that Varric had been the person who had really drawn him to this group. Without him, it was hard to find a connection to the humans. None of them was a mage, either. He did his best not to let it show, but he met them less often. One time, he tried to talk to Sera, gave her a few Elvhen words to chew on, but she had been blatantly offended by them. The language of her people meant nothing to her. Also, he looked out for the Grey Warden a few times, but the man was nowhere to be found.

When the Herald finally returned to Haven, Solas didn't even notice her, hiding away in his cottage for another round of “research” in the fade. He entirely missed the ruckus that ensued when her party came through the gates and everyone went to welcome her.

Yet he felt something strange much later in the night. A turmoil that drew his attention away from any other place in the fade. Alarmed, he opened his eyes and stared into the room without seeing it, because his senses focused on the outside, where a large presence spread out its multiple arms. He could feel the heat they radiated on his skin and bright lights floated in the air around them, like sparks dancing over flames. A moment later, he was convinced the apothecary was on fire, perhaps even the whole village, so he grabbed his staff and ran outside.

Halfway on his way there, he stopped. There was something off with this fire.

It sat in front of the building without consuming it. Its arms reached elsewhere, into the fade, drawn to the direction of the Breach – and towards himself. Confused, he stayed frozen, blinking at the brightness, his staff hanging in the air, undecided. He didn't know that his company was just as baffled.

After following the Herald through this inclement weather, being let inside Haven only after a thorough questioning by rude southern templars and once again being confronted with mistrust in the Chantry, Dorian Pavus assumed he wouldn't find a lot of friendly faces here. But he hadn't expected them to downright run at him with their staff ready. He quickly drew his own and frantically thought about a way to prevent a battle, but then they got into a rather peculiar stalemate, completely without his doing. His attacker, an elf, now stood frozen, only his moving facial features proved that he wasn't actually frozen.

Now, Dorian could assume countless reasons why an elf would wish to attack a Tevinter mage, but none why said elf would change his mind. Unless....it was all a misunderstanding and they didn't have to fight. At his own risk, he lowered his staff and began to talk: “Good evening stranger, or should I rather say … good night?” He tried a smile. “There's no need for violent outbursts here. I'm friendly and I'm here to help the Inquisition.”

When Solas heard the fire speak, he wondered how this was possible. But indeed, its light, albeit blinding, didn't hurt his eyes and its heat didn't burn his skin. Its voice spoke softly. He slowly opened his mouth to answer, pondering. Trade didn't come so easily to him anymore. “Who are you?”, he clumsily formed with his lips. His words, spoken in awe, surprised the fire. Solas could see it in its colours, now that his eyes adjusted to the blaze. “My name is Dorian Pavus. Just call me Dorian for short.” Solas listened to the voice and stared at the flames, more and more fascinated by their presence.

Dorian watched the elf struggle and wondered if he, well, was still of sane mind. Clad in rags, almost barefoot in the snow – he had heard the funniest stories about so-called hedge mages. He didn't notice that a flaming arm neared Solas, slowly wafting into his direction. Its sparks touched him first and he liked the sensation, so he allowed the essence to enter his own. The outcome didn't disappoint.

It was the moment Dorian noticed something else about he elf. He was glowing. Not like the Herald, who only glowed at special occasions. This elf just glowed from inside, through his skin. Dorian experienced the oddest, inappropriate urge to touch it.

As if the elf heard him, he walked closer, securing the staff behind his back. Finally. Scanning him, he appeared as if he didn't know where to look – admittedly, Dorian knew there were many rewarding options, but the elf's look wasn't consuming. It was filled with purely honest awe, the sort that he had never dared to hope gaining from another man, even if in a different context. Then he realized where his mind went and he forced himself to say put. But it didn't quite work.

Originally, while leaving his sordid cabin, he had meant to ask for a sleeping potion in the apothecary, something to help him rest in this awfully uncomfortable bed. But now, he stopped caring about sleep or the time of the day altogether. He thought of the bottle of wine he had salvaged on his journey to Haven. And he wondered if the glowing elf would appreciate it.

“Well, now that our dispute is settled, may I invite you into my cabin? It sure is a more comfy place to chat, albeit crude. I have a bottle of Antivan Red I would like to share with you.” Solas listened as more sparkling arms swirled forward. He felt their warmth on his skin. “Yes.” His voice was merely a whisper, but Dorian heard it loud and clear. He felt a rush of excitement that he definitely shouldn't feel as he opened the door to help his guest inside.

His glow made the whole room look more cozy. Dorian offered him a seat and then went to fetch the bottle and some hopefully usable tableware. The elf watched him in silence. It occurred to Dorian that this was the most spontaneous and unimaginative night he had ever dared to offer to another person. But he felt safe. The lack of words didn't seem awkward, because in a way, his guest was speaking to him the entire time. As he filled the mugs – because obviously there weren't any goblets in this barbarian homestead – he explained the wine's precious flavour and the way you needed to keep it on your tongue for a while to develop it fully. He didn't know that Solas hung on his every word, thinking he described some divine nectar he would taste for the first time.

When Dorian demonstrated the tasting, the elf broke his silence with a chuckle. Playfully offended, Dorian swallowed the wine to ask: “What's so funny?” “The wine ...” Solas sighed. “What it does to you.” The Tevinter straightened himself. “Oh, please, I assure you, one single drop doesn't affect me at all.” “Yes, it does.” his guest pointed at his face and his smile was irresistible. Dorian didn't see the flicker in the flames. How the colours changed again. He instead palpated his cheek. Was he blushing? If so, the wine couldn't be the reason. Clearing his throat, he poured a bit into the second mug he handed to his guest. “Let's see how you fare then.”

Solas accepted it and mimicked Dorian's motions. When the liquid on his tongue spread its flavour, he suddenly saw a large field, rows after rows of lush green plants full of grapes, ripe and sweet in the sunlight. He could sense the fruits, sprinkled with drops of rain, the leaves waving in the breeze, he could smell the earth where their roots grew and then he realized he hadn't tasted something like this in a long time. Dazzled, he stared at the fire and noticed how familiar it felt. It wasn't possible.

“So? Does it find your approval?” Dorian was eager to know. The elf silenced for a moment, keeping him worried. Then he whispered: “Home. It tastes like...home.” Now Dorian stared in silence. At the bottle and at the elf. “What are the odds?”, he muttered to himself. “Excuse me?” His guest lifted his head. For a moment, they just glanced at each other while the room did the talking for them. Dorian had no idea how that worked. “I...I am merely surprised....”, he said when he caught himself again. “May I then?” The elf agreed and he poured him more wine.

For a while, they just drank quietly. Dorian viewed the glow of the elf's skin, the little twitches of his ears when he drank. “I'm sorry I didn't catch your name.” It occurred to him eventually. As always, the elf thought for a moment before he answered: “My name is Solas.” Huh. Simple as that. “Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Solas.” “The pleasure is all mine...” He paused, his expression becoming puzzled. “...Dorian”, the Tevinter helped him. “Dorian?”

Solas repeated the name in his head, but there was nothing familiar about it. Dorian watched him think. He liked the wrinkles his furrowed brow created on his forehead. He wanted to touch them, too. Solas, however, watched the flames change again. Not only the colours flickered, but also the arms faded, lost their shape. “I don't think this is good for you...” he muttered, pointing at the mug. “Now, now, don't be a wet blanket. We're here to amuse ourselves, are we not?” Dorian took another, admittedly ungraceful sip. Tonight, this wine did unusual things to him. Unless it wasn't the wine.

Suddenly, the elf's hand shot forward, as if determined to touch his face. Dorian grabbed it, surprised by his own reflexes. Then they remained like that for a while. Dorian didn't know what to do. If he let go, Solas could try another attack. However, the elf made no effort to free himself. He relaxed. And his glowy skin was right there. With his other hand, Dorian began to palpate the trapped fingers that curled at the touch. He winced as little electric bolts darted along his arm and through his body. Suddenly, he felt jaunty and pulled the hand closer to press it against his lips. The effect blinded him for a second.

Solas felt pulled into the flames. More and more arms spread out, circled him, touched him. He wanted to get closer. Unwittingly, he climbed onto the table, knocking over his own mug and spilling the precious wine onto the floor. Dorian didn't protest, forgot about the drink entirely. He reached out to receive the light, bracing himself for the impact. How he was supposed to bear it, he didn't know. He had no plan for this. Just a desperate, tearing desire taking over his body. The room disappeared when the light drowned everything.

Solas eventually remembered why the flames felt familiar, when its arms engulfed him, soft and clawless. When it was too late to pull back. Satisfaction overwhelmed his senses. He knew he fell for a trap, but all he wanted was to go further. The sparks danced on his skin as the flames tore into his body, made him feel as if he would dissolve. He saw places he never knew, floating cities of stone with high, pointed towers, illuminated by lights that challenged the stars above. He sensed their fire, smelled the soot, then it became silk under his hands, cinnamon, oranges, fingernails digging into his flesh... And then peace. Eternal, sweet peace and darkness.

When he woke up hours later, he realized his mistake. His terrible mistake. On the verge of panic, he struggled out of the bed with aching limbs, wincing at every sound he made, ready to pretend to sleep as soon as the man opened his eyes. He didn't remember the man's name or how he ended up here. Didn't dare to. He knew enough. Darting around, he quickly gathered his clothes. Perhaps, if he found them all and left no trace of his presence in this room, this night would be forgotten. Otherwise...he'd have to watch the Inquisition's efforts from afar from now on. With his clothes halfway on and his staff in his hand, he very carefully opened the door to peek out. It was still dark and he was lucky that all the nearby lights were out. He felt humiliated hurrying back to his cottage like that. When he closed the door behind him, he secured it with a spell this time. Then he lay on his bed, waiting to enter the fade again.

Dorian woke up the next day and his whole body ached. Silently cussing in pain, he rolled himself to the side, until he realized that he hurt in places the bed couldn't possibly affect. Confused, he looked around. His room was empty. But he remembered vaguely...an elf. Solas. Dorian struggled to sit up. The bottle of wine still stood on the table like a memorial. One mug lay shattered on the floor and red drops had peppered the table legs and chairs. It was the only proof he didn't dream this. But how it started, he couldn't recall. The only certainty was that his guest had disappeared again.

With a moan, he curled up on the uncomfortable bed and pulled the blanket over his head. He lost all motivation to leave this place. This wasn't how he had hoped his first day in the Inquisition to proceed. He had reverted right back to his old habits, fell into the arms of the first stranger he met. And now he had to bear the insults.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #solas/dorian #dragon age solas #dragon age dorian #maker preserve

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can’t stop drawing him ❤️

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas #dragon age solas #dragon age fanart #dragonage #digital fanart #digital art #fanart digital #fanart

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May The Dreadwolf Take You.

#awesome #dragon age #dragon age: inquisition #da: inquisition #solas #dragon age dreadwolf #da:i #da: dreadwolf

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mods are asleep, post silver fox Varric

#aging like a fine wine #i want to see him again #dragon age 2 #dragonage #dragon age #bioware #varric tethras #the missing #comic art

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another sad egg for you 🥲

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas #dragon age solas #digital fanart #digital art #medibang paint #dai #dragon age dread wolf #dragon age dreadwolf

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"You're a Failure, and your family died knowing it."

I finally finished it!

I got majorly distracted with only 2 sections of this left, and it gathered dust for a bit. But here it is! All the angst!

My Emmit Hawke, purple and unromanced. He's just very tired and never given a break, so might as well strand him in the Fade, right? (I love my Hawke, promise)

There was originally a part 2 that has a bit more of a hopeful tune to leaving him behind, but I dunno if I'll get to that. We'll see.

#i didn't need that heart anyway #dragon age #dragon age 2 #da2 #hawke #bethany hawke #carver hawke #fenris #isabella #merrill dragon age #aveline vallen #leandra hawke

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

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

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

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

_____________________

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

Part 2 | Chapter 14 - ? | Solas joins the Inquisition.

Chapter 19

In a peaceful, clear morning, only spoiled by the presence of the Breach, Solas stood outside his cottage and pondered, as he had done so many times before. Today, he hoped to hear some good news about the rebel mages in Redcliffe. The Herald and her advisors at the war table still debated about whether or not they should accept their invitation. Their indecision frustrated Solas. This new mistrust of magic went so far, they couldn't even decide to get the required help.

Also frustratingly, his agents didn't find Corypheus yet. One might assume that an incomparably powerful and tainted priest of Dumat would catch someone's eye. Apparently not. And his disappearance made Solas more than uneasy.

When the Herald finally left the Chantry, Solas lifted his head to watch her spread the news. He couldn't help but feel left out – he had never been invited at the war table. In the beginning, he had become an essential tool for Seeker Pentaghast, to secure the survival of the Herald and thus the fate of the world, but his importance had shrunk immediately as the Herald took his place. Now, the Lady Seeker's faith lay in Ellana Lavellan, occasionally reminded of the apostate when the mark acted up. What it rarely did, thanks to said apostate. Of course, Solas intended to stay hidden, to direct the attention to someone else. However, it stung that his plan worked so well after all he had done. That he never had to worry about revealing too much, knowing too much. His actions were already forgotten.

With surprise, he realized the Herald climbed up the stairs into his direction. The apothecary, he recalled. She probably checked on their supplies. Their new contact in Val Royeaux had quickly begun shipments. Also, the meeting with Madame Vivienne had been successful. The Grand Enchanter now haunted the village, keeping an eye on the nervous mages. She had been amused hearing that an apostate taught them to deal with the rifts. As an ally, she followed her own agenda, but if the Inquisition kept her in check, she would be useful. Her presence alone put a new complexion on the Inquisition's reputation.

Solas' thoughts stopped when Ellana ignored the apothecary as well and headed straight towards him. When she stood in front of him, he asked her curiously: “How can I help you, Herald?” She suddenly frowned, appalled by something. “Did I offend you?” Now she forced a friendlier grimace. “It just...feels strange how easily everyone gives me that title. As if nobody realizes what it means.” She spoke quietly, as if she was afraid someone could overhear her. “I am certain they do”, Solas replied. “In the face of danger, they need to believe in something – or someone, and their need creates simplifications. You have become the symbol for their salvation.”

Ellana looked irritated. “If you know all this, why do you call me Herald? And why do you tell me to believe in Andraste?” “I was not aware I do so.” “But- the part about being open to the thought? Not dismissing it so quickly?” “I think there is a difference between 'being open minded' and 'believing'.” “Right...so in other terms, do you or do you not believe I'm the Herald of Andraste?” “I am afraid my belief is irrelevant. Your own faith matters more.” “But if I don't believe in Andraste, that's when I'm deluded and you decide it for me.” “You said you do not remember what happened at the conclave. Why are you so certain the woman you met in the fade was not Andraste?” “Because she's dead? It's common sense.” Solas shook his head. Ellana saw in his expression that she sunk in his estimation again. And that wasn't even why she was here.

“Actually, I wanted to talk about something else”, she went on in a warmer tone. “We agreed to follow Fiona's invitation to Redcliffe. I think the mages in Haven would like to hear that.” Solas lifted his gaze again. For the first time, someone at least acknowledged what he did in Haven. “Yes, they would indeed.”, he agreed softly. For the first time, he was glad that the Herald was a Keeper. “Thank you for telling me in person.” He meant it. Ellana was surprised by his sudden change from sheer disgust to honest gratitude. She savoured the moment, because it would be the only positive part of their conversation. “You don't need to thank me. The mages look up to you, don't they?” Now his ears twitched. How did she notice? He cleared his throat. “Perhaps...It is a bit of an overstatement...I am still an apostate after all.” Ellana stared for a second. It was the first time she saw him humbled. By something that was supposed to boost his ego. “Well, as you said, every mage is an apostate now”, she went on. Remembering his words should cheer him up, too. “I don't think they care much about Chantry orders anymore. It's your actions that matter.” Solas avoided her eyes. “That is my luck, I suppose...When do we depart for Redcliffe?”

Ellana was downright sorry she had to disappoint him now. “About noon...And we decided to take Madame Vivienne with us this time...” Solas' features froze. Realization ran through his body like a shockwave. Then his features fell back to the usual disgust. “Ah, the Grand Enchanter? I am sure she would make quite the impression in a camp of rebel mages. Is that the message you mean to deliver to them? A threat?” “She has contacts”, Ellana tried. “She knows the rebel mages and their leader...” “She merely knows the superstitions she holds against them!” “...and she can help us find out if we can trust them or not. After all, they could be the attackers.”

“Really, Herald?” Solas expression darkened more. Ellana could swear that his ears lowered. “Does the Dalish wisdom mirror the chant in so many ways?” “Don't be naïve. Most of the rebels are shemlen and they are brutal and careless.” “I see. An incontestable point. But their leader Fiona is an elf.” “Who's raised by shemlen.” “What happened to 'we are all elves and share one fate'”? “What happened to the open mind, to not dismiss unproven points? Can you prove their innocence?” Solas felt something sour creep up his guts. He gulped it down. His silence seemed to answer the Herald's question. “See?”, she concluded. “A little caution is needed here.” “And you believe Madame Vivenne to be honest in this case?” “She works well with Cassandra. And she's a Seeker of Truth.” “Alas, I hope the rebels do not dare to breathe the wrong way in your presence, or else they bring the wrath of the Inquisition upon them.” “I'm not that dumb.” “You said you had good news.” “I believe I still do.” Solas averted his head for a second, darting his disappointed glance somewhere else. “So, since there is no way for me to change your mind, I can only wish you good luck for your journey.” “Thank you. I hope you can trust me one day.” “I hope so, too.”

She left when there was nothing else to say and Solas leaned back against the cottage wall, occupied by conflicting emotions. All he could decide upon was to deliver the message to the mages, so he set his reluctant feet in motion. Passing the tavern, he overheard Sera's voice inside and grimaced. The elf had chosen it as her favourite place to drink and play pranks. Solas wasn't sure if he'd ever enjoy being there again. Right now, he didn't feel like confronting himself with her, so he moved on. Further down, he came across Varric, who enjoyed some dubious hot drink, probably selfmade. He looked like he just woke up. Solas greeted him, only to be polite.

But Varric seemed to be in a chatty mood. “Morning, Chuckles. How are you doing?” When Solas didn't stop, he quickly added: “Hey, want some guaranteed unsaintly brew to wake your senses up? It's just ready.” “Thank you for the offer, Varric, but I need to hurry. The apostates need me.” Solas hoped he'd understand. “Aww, they can't make use of you when you're still half-asleep. Come on, just one drink.” Solas wondered what gave him the impression that he was tired. “I'd rather keep my voice intact”, he refused again, but the dwarf already held a filled mug towards him. “Don't worry, this is mostly coffee. I won't start with this in the morning otherwise.”

Defeated, Solas accepted the drink and took a sip. It tasted bitter at first, but then it became sweet. A little like hazelnut – and fruit? All at once and intense. The food in this world would always feel strange to him. But this was good. He closed his eyes for a moment. He needed a while to notice that Varric had stopped talking. When he looked again, the dwarf glanced around Haven. He seemed to relax, too. Solas was glad he didn't need to say anything. He just drank. After a long time, Varric muttered a question: “How are the mages?” Solas thought it wouldn't hurt to tell him. “They are doing alright. I think they will gather hope from the news.” Varric furrowed his brows. “The Herald will meet the rebel mages in Redcliffe”, Solas clarified and the dwarf's face lit up. “Yeah, I'm glad she does”, Varric confirmed he knew it already. “That's hopefully the first step out of this massive pile of shit we're stuck in.” Solas hid an involuntary smile behind his mug. Then he asked sharper than intended: “Do you have any doubts?”

Varric hesitated to answer. Solas already thought of an apology when he muttered. “I guess I always doubt these days. I've seen shit happen, Chuckles.” Suddenly, Solas felt like an idiot. “Of course. I apologize.” “No sweat. Sometimes, I forget to hope for the best, to keep it at least for a little while...” He stopped the thought and went on cheerier: “You know what, I'll bring dices for the journey. Let's see if we can bribe Cassandra into taking a bet. Imagine what we could make her do. Think we could bring her to telling jokes? Well, maybe not. That would be terrifying...” Solas interrupted his rambling. “I suppose you are coming with the Herald, then?” “Yeah, she...” Varric froze and looked at him, mouth still open. “You're not coming with us?” “The Herald found Madame Vivienne to be more fitting for the task.” His words dripped with sarcasm. “Ah...well...someone has to care for our mages here while we're gone. Won't put that task on Madame the Fer...”, Varric offered. “That is true”, Solas accepted and quickly downed the rest of his drink. “Thank you for the coffee”, he said and left the dwarf alone.

He was glad to not be interrupted at the rest of the way. He planned to teach the mages all day, but after a few hours, he had to pause earlier, because he wasn't quite able to suppress his own emotions this time. He had shortened the “good” news as much as he could, left out the sour aftertaste and lifted up their moods. They had gone a long way since their first meeting and he was convinced they would make it. That at least was a comfort. Standing outside the tent, he could hear the clanking of armour and blades from the training grounds. Also, the villagers went on with their lives, the Inquisition forces did their jobs and all elements in Haven had become busy little parts of a greater system, working together. Only Solas felt out of place. He didn't know what to do with himself, now without the mark.

Slowly, he made his way back to the gates He had only one idea. The Grey Warden had made camp here somewhere and Solas considered to exchange a few words with him since he hadn't found the time for that yet. He wandered along the fence, but there was no sign of the Warden. It occurred to him that the Herald might've chosen him, too. So he turned at his heel and returned to the village. There, he ran into Asher, who seemed to be in high spirits: “Hey, Solas. See you at the tavern later?” Solas forced a smile. “I am sorry. I have to do research...on the Breach...”, he quickly wove together. He really didn't feel like tavern. “Oh, okay...” Asher's face fell. “Good luck with it.” “Thank you...” Solas moved on to avoid further questions.

He made his way up to his cottage and went inside without thinking twice. When he closed the door and stood in the gloomy room, he noticed that there was nothing to do in there. Shortly, he considered doing some actual research in the Chantry library, but he couldn't get himself to go outside again. So he curled up on the bed. All he cared about now was contacting his agents and looking for suspicious signs in the fade. Perhaps find Corypheus. That was more important than playing dice with a dwarf to annoy a Seeker of Truth.

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