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in-arlathan · 5 years

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What Friends Are For

Hey people, I’m back with some writing. This time with a short piece about Lavellan after the battle with Corpyheus. Solas does not make an appearance in this one, instead Sera joins in to cheer her up. Hope you enjoy it. <3

Characters: Sera, Female Lavellan (Alis Lavellan) Chapters: 1/1, Length: 2,158 words Pairing: Solas/Female Lavellan Rating: PG-13, Teen And Up Audiences

Summary: Corypheus is defeated and the Inquisitor’s fight is finally over. But victory came with a cost. After losing Solas, Lavellan considers her plans for the future. Not sure where she might go, she is all but overwhelmed by grief and fear. Fortunately, there is a Friend of Red Jenny who still cares about her.

A/N: This is an updated version of the story that I posted over @old-arlathan.

You can read this on AO3, too.

______

The party continued long after the sun had set over the Frostback mountains. From her place on the balcony, the Inquisitor could hear her companions as they filled the dark corridors of Skyhold with laughter and cheerful banter. She never thought she’d live to see them in such a great mood.

If there ever was a time to celebrate, it was now. They had accomplished the impossible: They had defeated Corypheus and his forces, at long last. And although the cost was high, it would have been an insult to their fallen comrades to not enjoy this moment of peace.

A small part of Alis wanted to go back downstairs to join her friends in the faint hope the lose herself in the moment. But the rest of her simply wanted to withdraw from the world and pretend that things were different. That is why she had retreated to her quarters, leaving her companions and advisors to themselves. They had fought as hard as Alis herself to bring Corypheus down. They deserved to enjoy themselves without her curbing their mood with her gloomy thoughts.

Of course, she was proud of what the Inquisition had accomplished. It had stood against the chantry, sealed the breach and brought peace to Orlais and Ferelden. It had prevented the assassination of Empress Celene and hindered the grey wardens from raising a demon army. And in the end, it had brought down the madman behind this entire mess. And yet she couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. All her thoughts had been fixed on one thing, and one thing only: stopping the enemy from destroying the world. There hadn't been much room for anything else. The only thing that she'd allowed to distract her had been Solas.

For a time, she had hoped to leave Skyhold with him once her fight was over. She had imagined herself walking by his side, sharing his bed as well as his dreams in the Fade. It had been a wonderful fantasy that kept her going despite all her injuries, the sleep deprivation and the lurking horror that was Corypheus. Dreaming of her future with Solas had been something to look forward.

But now…

Now, he was gone and she could feel his absence like an abyss in her heart, a dark spot in her mind. He had become such an integral part of her life in such a short time that she couldn’t think of a future without him.

The worst part though was that he had left without a word. After what had happened between them in Crestwood, after he had taken her vallaslin, he had promised to talk to her. To explain why he didn’t want her. As it turned out he never intended to say crap about any of it.

May the Dread Wolf take him, she thought and clenched her fists.

“You gotta stop that, y’know.”

That was Sera’s voice. Alis turned around in surprise and found her friend standing at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She hadn’t heard her come in.

“Stop what, exactly?” Alis asked.

“Being all sad”, Sera said with a beaten look upon her face. “Makes me sad, too. But we shouldn’t feel sad, right, after defeating Coryphisus and everything?”

“Yeah,” she replied slowly. “Maybe ...”

Sera came closer and stopped in the doorway as if she was unsure if she could join Alis out on the balcony. Encouraging her friend with a wave of her hand, Alis said: “Come here. Let’s hang out for a bit.”

The younger elf stepped out onto the balcony, taking in the panorama of the Frostback mountains. The sun was nothing more than a golden glimmer in the distance, as the dark of the night slowly covered the world like a blanket with thousands of stars to illuminate the sky. “Woah,” the younger said. “It’s quite the view.”

"Yes, it is."

Sera turned to look at the Inquisitor. Suddenly, her eyes seemed darker than usual. Alis knew that look. There was something gloomy on Sera’s mind and she would need to get it out of her system before she could return to her playful self.

“Care to share your thoughts with me?”, Alis asked encouragingly.

Sera’s lips twitched. For a moment, Alis thought her friend would shake her head and pretend that everything was alright. Instead, Sera gestured towards her face. “He did that, didn’t he?”

It took her a moment to realize what her friend meant. Slowly, Alis brought her hand – the one without the anchor – up to her face. Her fingers traced the parts of her skin where June’s blood writing used to be. Not that her skin felt different. It was warm and soft and smooth as usual, except maybe for the scar under her left eye. Sometimes, she simply forgot it was no longer there.

“Yes, he did,” she said at last. “He told me what the markings meant and I allowed him to remove it with a spell.”

“Didn’t know it’s possible” Sera mused. “Removing the Dalish ink stuff, I mean.”

“The vallaslin” she corrected, more out of habit than real interest in being right. “Yeah, me too.”

“Why did you do it?”

Alis blinked. She’d expected her friend to ask her how Solas had removed the vallaslin or why he made the offer in the first place. But she was wrong about Sera – again – and she was glad about it. It felt good to have someone care about her most of all things.

“Getting the vallaslin is considered as a rite of passage among the Dalish,” she explained and noticed the undertone of sadness in her own voice. “When it was time for me to get mine, I didn’t think as long about it as some of the others. I told our keeper to give me the markings of June because I recognized myself in him. He's a practical god, a god of the people. Not unlike Andraste, I suppose. Anyway, Deshanna gave me my vallaslin and I wore it like a piece of clothing. After a time, I forgot how my face looked like without it. My vallaslin marked me as Dalish and I was proud to be one of them.

But when I arrived in Haven and joined the Inquisition, I felt the need to become … well, more. People had begun to form this mental image of me that had nothing to do with who I really was. It gave me nightmares, even thinking about it. How could I be more to these people than I was?”

Her heart ached, as she thought about Solas. He, too, had seen so much more in her than an ordinary woman, and through him, she had discovered that she was more than a Dalish elf. More than she could ever have imagined. A champion of her people, all of them.

“You have a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world …”

Alis took in a long breath, then sighed deeply. “When Solas offered to take the vallaslin away, I didn’t do it to abandon my people. That would have been a foolish notion. No, in removing the blood writing, I hoped that I might become the woman I needed to be in order to defeat Corypheus.”

“So, you didn’t stop being Dalish after all?”, Sera asked.

“No.” Alis tried to smile but failed miserably. “I could never do that. They made me who I am and I’ll be forever thankful for that.”

Sera’s gaze flicked from Alis’s face to her own hands. “Wish I would feel the same way about Lady Emmald”, she said in a low voice. “Not so much to be proud of there, though.”

Alis took Sera’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Those days are gone”, she said. “We have changed, both of us. We are no longer who we used to be. You are not the street urchin any longer, just like I’m no longer the first to my clan’s keeper. We’re more than we were, stronger.”

“You’re right,” Sera said, returning to her usual glee. “Let ’em think we’re still weak and elfy or whatever. We are better, you and I. Because of us, no one else.”

“Because of us.”

“Know what’s weird?” Sera looked puzzled. “I came over here to cheer you up, but instead you’re treating me all friendly and stuff. Don’t know how that happened, really.”

Alis laughed. “That’s what friends are for, Sera. We cheer each other up.”

“I guess you’re right.” Sera scratched her head, leaving her hair in a bigger mess than before. After all this time with the Inquisition, she still wasn’t used to having someone to share her feelings with. Maybe she would never be perfectly comfortable talking about herself.

“I thought the inky stuff looked nice on you”, Sera said after a short silence. “Pretty rad, to be honest.”

Alis smiled sardonically. “It’s not made of ink, you know that, don’t you?”

“Sure.” Sera snickered. “I just don’t care.”

“I should have expected that,” Alis replied. “Anyway, thank you.”

Another silence fell between, but it was less heavy than before. They simply enjoyed each other’s company. And what unlike company it was. A Dalish woman bonding with a city elf over the cruelty of life. The two of them made have begun their lives under completely different circumstances, but in the end, they had made a deeper connection than any Dalish or city elf might think possible.

“His Elfiness never deserved you, y’know”, Sera said finally.

Alis stirred. The seriousness in Sera’s voice startled her. “What...?”

“Don’t know what you saw in him, to be honest. He made my head hurt with all his Fade talk. But it seemed like he appreciated you. Could see it in his eyes when he looked at you. But if he wanted you so badly, he should’ve treated you better. I hope he feels ridiculous for leaving you behind.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks for saying that, Sera.”

“You said it yourself,” she replied. “Friends say nice things to make each other feel good.”

“Now, you’re ruining it”, Alis said.

Sera chuckled. “Alright, I shut it then. All I’m sayin’ is, you’re fine as you are. And if we happen to meet His Elfiness again, you can count on me to put some arrows in his smug face. If you like.”

“That's very nice of you, Sera, but I hope that won’t be necessary.”

“As you wish,” her friend said and made an imitation of herself drawing an arrow from her quiver. “But if you change your mind, let me know, Inquisitor. I'll take him down before he knows what hit him."

Unwillingly, a broad smile spread across Alis’s face. When she had first met Sera, her dismissal of the Dalish culture had hit her like a kick to the stomach. It had taken time to understand Sera’s point of view. Now she wondered why she had been so close-minded. There were countless elves like Sera, trying to get by. For most Dalish they were nothing more than animals, too weak to stand against their shemlen overlords and for the longest time, Alis had shared their opinion. But thanks to Sera, she had come to see the error of her ways. The city elves were deserving of her help and support. And maybe, with time and a lot of careful diplomacy, she might bring the remaining Dalish to see them as their kin again.

Imagine the things we could accomplish, she thought and looked at Sera. Together.

In that moment, she realized that she might have grown to fill the role of Inquisitor, but there were still parts of her that were left unchanged. She was a resourceful woman, after all. She was a force to be reckoned with. It was best she used her powers to change the world for the better. Because no matter how terrible the past was or how many people she’d lost, the future was something she could still take control over.

A wave of warm energy washed over her. She was hurting, but she was alive. All she needed to do was take the next step, and the next and the next, until she had formed a new life for herself. Until then, she would see to it that the Inquisition continued to help people across Thedas as best it could.

Her new-found confidence seemed to be showing because Sera suddenly raised her eyebrows.

“You’re alright?” she asked in a baffled tone.

“I’m fine,” she said and meant it. “Or at least, I will be.”

Sera’s face lit up. “That’s good. Fine is always good.”

“It is.”

“So, where you gonna go, now that Coryphinas is gone?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go back to the Free Marches,” Alis said. “Deshanna, my clan's keeper, holds a seat on the council of Wycome now. It would be a good place to start over.” She turned to Sera. “When I go, would you want to come along?”

A bright smile tugged at Sera's lips. “Anytime, Inquisitor. Anytime.”

#da #dragon age #dai #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanfic #sera #lavellan #female lavellan #alis lavellan #solavellan #pre-trespasser #post-relationship #break-up #heartache #hurt/comfort #friendship #in-arlathan-FF

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in-arlathan · 5 years

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The Scar

Time period: Elvhenan Characters: Solas, Mythal, Elvhen OC Chapters: 1/1, Length: 2,620 words Rating: Mature Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Summary: Driven by the desire the become one of the Evanuris, an elvhen mage summons a spirit of wisdom and tricks it into taking on a physical body to impress the all-mighty Mythal. Disgusted by what the mage had done, the All-Mother sides with the former spirit and helps him to free himself from his mistress's bindings, owning the name the mage has given to him: Solas.

A/N: This is an updated version of the fanfic I posted over @old-arlathan. Now with 50% less typos and more accurate terminology for the Elvhenan timeline. ;)

You can read this on AO3, too.

______

“He did not want a body. But she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face.”

– Cole

Her blood pooled around his feet, thick and dark as the night. He shuddered and stepped back, away from the dead woman who’s blood he’d spilled across the ancient marble floor. Her arms and legs lay twisted as if they belonged to a puppet rather than a living being. He dropped his hands and the spell faded away, leaving nothing behind but a gaping hole in his heart.

His mistress was dead and he had killed her.

“Well, that is that, I presume,” Mythal mused.

Sitting on her golden throne, the All-Mother had watched the fight in absolute silence. If she felt disgust or horror upon the murder, he could not tell. Her face was still, her breaths long and steady.

She is justice incarnate, he thought.

Is that why she had allowed him to kill his mistress? Because she thought it was just? He wanted to believe it so very badly. Maybe it would keep the darkness at bay that grew within him with every passing moment.

“Are you proud of yourself?” Mythal asked. Her voice was soft and candid. It was a gift he did not deserve.

“I… I don’t know,” he said, wiping away droplets of sweat that had gathered on his forehead. The fight had been much more exhausting than he had expected.

Slowly, the All-Mother rose from her throne and came towards him. Her rich green robes rustled softly as she descended from the dais, her steps echoing from the high stone walls of her Throne chamber.

“I remember the day she presented you before my court,” she said with her eyes fixed on the dead body on the floor in front of her. “She all but burst with pride while she told the tale of your summoning. A spirit of wisdom, eager to share his knowledge with The People, yet too kind to recognize an enemy on sight.”

He swallowed, hard. He, too, remember this tale. Remembered it all too well. It had become a part of his being, just like the body he inhabited.

“She learned everything she could from you,” Mythal continued, “and when you had finally shared all of your knowledge of the Beyond, she lured you into a body, binding you to the Waking World.”

Mythal lifted her hand ever so slightly. Still, he could feel the wave of energy flaring up around her as she drew power from the Beyond to cast her spell. Blazing fire erupted from the corpse, cloaking the body of his former mistress in flames. The air wavered and filled with the smell of burnt flesh.

Another wave of Mythal’s hand and the blood began flowing towards the tiny fissures in the marble floor and sank into the stone. He breathed a sigh a of relief as the dark fluid vanished.

They watched in silence as the flames consumed the dead woman’s body and when the fire finally died down, it was as if his mistress had never even existent. For a moment, they heard nothing but the song of birds and the sound of whispering leaves from the forest outside Mythal’s palace.

The All-Mother let out a sigh of regret. “I told her that her pride would be her undoing.” Her gaze turned to him. “Or should I say her Pride?”

A shiver worked its way down his spine. Until this day, his mistress had called him Pride, her Solas, for he was the embodiment of her strength, the manifestation of her will. For a while, he had liked that name, until he came to realize that he was but a means to an end. Now he wished the name belonged to someone else.

He raised a hand to touch the skin on his cheeks. Though he could not feel it, he knew the lines of his vallaslin by heart. His fingers traced the curved markings while he thought about the day when his mistress had presented him to Mythal and her courtiers. Back then, he was still trying to get used to his body and was too confused by the powerplay unfolding before his eyes to understand it. It was an irony, really, how little he had known about elvhen politics, even after spending years and years in friendly conversation with one of Elvhenan's most powerful mages.

“This spirit of wisdom possesses more knowledge than any other I have ever encountered,” his mistress had said to Mythal. “I devote him to you, All-Mother, as a sign of my loyalty to you, and grace him with your vallaslin.”

At that moment, Mythal had had no other choice but to accept her gift. She would have been seen as cruel or unkind by her courtiers if she hadn’t. So the All-Mother watched as his mistress ingrained the vallaslin in his skin with magic. The pain had been almost unbearable but he had been too proud to show his agony in front of the assembled elvhen. Instead, he had bitten his lips until they were bloody and kept silent.

Maybe some of his mistress’ pride had rubbed off on him when she’d help him take on a physical form.

So I truly am Solas, he thought bitterly.

“There is something you must tell me,” Mythal said. “How did she convince you to enter this realm?”

He blinked, taken by surprise. “How do you know she did not bind me like she claimed?”

A soft chuckle escaped Mythal’s lips.

“All elvhen were like you once, Solas, exisiting freely within the Beyond,” she explained. “Only those with the will to change their form were able to enter this world and manifest themselves in a physical body. Many ages ago, I, myself, was what you might call a spirit of justice, and when I saw the many wrongs that happened in the Waking World, I could not resist to enter it to set things right. That is why I know that no spirit can be bound into a body without its consent. Otherwise, it could never hold on to a physical form long enough to survive the journey to the Waking world.“

She looked him over. “But you are a person. You have a purpose. This means you came to this world by will, not by force. So tell me, what made you come here?”

He sighed. “I was curious. She had told me so much about this world and its wonders and I was … excited by her enthusiasm. I wanted to walk among The People and learn everything they had to offer so I could pass their wisdom on to other spirits. But when I’d taken my body, I …”

His voice trailed off.

“When you had taken your body, you found that you could not return to your spirit form,” Mythal said, finishing the sentence for him.

“Yes.”

The word tasted bitter in his mouth. He had never admitted his failure so openly before. The pain was simply too much to bear.

His desire to learn had made him foolish. He had been so eager to gain wisdom that he did not see the woman who had summoned him for what she really was. He’d simply assumed that she was a kindred spirit, a seeker of truth and knowledge, just like him. Learning from her had excited him and he had trusted her to guide him into his body. But then his friend used his trust to turn him into her pet to parade him around the rest of The People. Only then he realized the terrible mistake he’d made and he had regretted it ever since.

“You are not the first spirit to make this mistake and you won’t be the last,” Mythal said. “When taking on our physical form, we gain a stronger sense of self and a power that is beyond any spirit. It allows us to shape the world around us. But we also lose our ability to become one with the Fade. We can only dream of the world we have lost and try to make a difference in this one.”

Another moment of silence passed. “She should have told you about the consequences,” Mythal said. “But I wonder why you haven’t turned your back on her after her betrayal. She may have lured you into this world, but she never truly commanded you. Still, you called her mistress.”

“It was spiritual affinity that kept me by her side, though I never forgave her for luring me into taking a body,” he admitted. “I was perfectly happy as I was, back in the Beyond. But she was my friend and I thought I owed her for what she had given me.”

“I see,” Mythal said, her voice heavy with sadness. “I’m sorry.”

“I do not deserve your sympathy,” he replied.

“And why is that?”

“Because I wish to burn the vallaslin off my face. Your vallaslin.” The words came out in a rush, like a tide that had been held back for far too long. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his face. He imagined the lines of the blood writing burning brightly on his skin, just like the fire Mythal had cast to get rid of his mistress’s body. “I want to take it away and leave all memory of what was behind.”

“Well, take it off then,” Mythal said with a soft smile. “No one is stopping you.”

It took him a moment to understand what she truly meant. And when the realization finally hit him, he blinked in surprise yet again. He lowered his hands to look at Mythal. “But it would be an insult to you!”, he insisted. “The People would see it as a great offense if I rejected your patronage.”

The All-Mother laughed. “It was your mistress who offended me by thinking it would impress me that she tricked a trusting spirit into taking a body. It was her who offended me in wanting my patronage, not for the good of The People, but to rise in rank and to become one of the Evanuris. That is why I tempted you to kill her, you know. To right her wrongs.”

She reached out to him and touched his cheek gently. “Others might think you denied yourself to me, but I know that is not true. I wish you to act on your own accords and honor me with your deeds. Thus, you could never offend me, Solas, even if you tried.”

The way she said his name made him shiver. It sounded so different from the way his mistress had said it. As if Mythal was proud of him, not for being a particularly powerful spirit, but for freeing himself at last.

“Go on, now”, she said and gifted him with an encouraging smile. “Take off the vallaslin and leave your past behind.”

“But I don’t know how,” he admitted. “Will you help me?”

“Oh, no.” Mythal shook her head slightly. “You are perfectly capable of removing the blood writing on your own. It is one of the few benefits of possessing a physical body: You may shape it to your will. But beware that you will be the first of your kind, for no other elvhen had felt the desire to take the vallaslin away. It will be a wonder to behold.”

He looked at her for a moment, baffled by her confidence in him. How could she be so sure about his power when he himself doubted it so much?

Before he knew it, she took his hand into her own and squeezed them. “Do it,” she urged. “I know you can.”

Encouraged by her words, he slowly, very slowly, allowed himself to believe in his own strengths.

She let go and he stretched out his hands before him. With every fiber of his body, he opened up to the energy of the Fade, allowing it to fill him up like wine poured into a golden goblet. Sparks of light spread from his fingertips across his palm, a flash of blue and green and white, mingled together.

He brought his hands up to his face and closed his eyes. In his mind, he pictured the fine lines of the vallaslin once more. He saw it burn, bright as day. Then he traced his fingers across his face, imagining the light from his hands spreading across his skin. He felt a soft tingle and then a sting on his forehead.

When he was done, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did I work?” he asked Mythal, and she beamed at him, proud like a mother.

“You left a scar,” she said softly, touching a small spot above his right eyebrow. “But yes, it worked.”

She was so close to him he could feel the warmth of her body, but he did not mind.

“I’d rather wear a scar on my face then any vallaslin,” he told her, “for I created it myself.”

“You will bring glory to The People,” she said. “I’m proud to call you kin.”

And then, the tears finally came.

He closed his arms around Mythal’s slender figure and buried his face against her shoulder. And while he wept, his body shaking, she remained silent and held him like a mother would.

After a while, he ran out of tears and became very still in her arms. A part of him waited for her to push him away, now that he had freed himself of his mistress’s influence completely. But instead, Mythal waited until he himself was ready to let go.

“What happens now?” he asked in a raspy voice.

“That is up to you. With your mistress gone, you are free to go wherever you please in the Waking world. Vir Dirthara might be a good place to start. I’m sure Ghil Dirthalen will be happy to offer you guidance.”

“I will consider it,” he said. “Thank you, All-Mother.”

“You may call me Mythal.”

He smiled for what felt like the first time in ages. “I could never do that.”

They looked at each other for a moment. A bond had built between them and they both knew it. Their spirits were joined for as long as they might live and they were united in thankfulness for this rare gift.

“I should leave,” he said at last. “I have taken enough of your time.”

Mythal sighed. “I’m afraid you have,” she said. “There are other matters to attend to. But I hope you will return soon, my friend, and tell me what you have learned while we were apart.”

“I will. I promise.”

And with that, he made his way to the door. When he had entered the throne room, he had been a spirit, bound by the will of another. Now he had become something different. He was scared of what awaited him outside these halls, afraid of the world and the future and his own powers, but he would find a way for himself.

“Oh, one more thing.”

Mythal spoke in a low voice but her words carried all the way to the throne room’s door without fading.

He turned around to face her once more, his hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, All-Mother?”

Mythal’s face lit up as their eyes met. She reminded him of the moon rising over a mountain ridge in a dark and stormy night. It was in that moment that she earned his undying devotion, his eternal love, and gratitude.

“Despite any regret or pain or guilt you might feel,” she said with a glimmer in her golden eyes, “you should be proud of yourself. Always.”

....

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #solas #mythal #ancient elves #elvhen #elvhenan #vallaslin removal #hurt/comfort #in-arlathan-FF

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