Disclaimer: Dragon Age is owned by Bioware and EA games.
Warning: There are spoilers from Dragon Age: Inquisition in this book, some pretty big ones. If you don't want to see them, then don't read this book. The spoilers involve only two characters in the game and for the sake of not spoiling it here I won't say who they are. The character I placed here is Solas just because he is the main character of the story as you will see going forward. Just know you have been warned that there are huge spoilers from the ending of the game (and sort of the middle in the prologue alone).
Note to readers: Dragon Age is by far my favorite series done by bioware. For a long time I had been toying with the idea for this fan-fiction and with all we learned in Inquisition I can finally write this story. After seeing the complete story, I found the character that I wanted to write about. It's the way I work with fan-factions, I guess. I pick the character I want to know more about and start to write about them.
I am going off of the notes I found on the wiki and the banter between the party as well as his dialogue. There is actually quite a bit hinting at his past if you get the right dialogue between Cole and Solas. I think it's only if you have a bad breakup with Solas though.
Also, for the prologue, I did go more with my Inquisitor than anything else. Female, elf who did romance Solas, I couldn't get the prologue to work without having the Inquisitor there… though it was brief. And, yes, I did copy some of the lines from the game for the first part of the prologue. It is all that I am taking for it. After the prologue the Inquisitor won't even be reappearing.
I hope you enjoy this story.
Thank you,
Flame
Dragon Age: Final Hour
Prologue: Edge of the Past
A soft snow had started to fall over the tents and scattered remains of the Inquisition. Fire light flickered. Solas sat alone at the edge of the camp, listening as the advisors bickered among themselves. His eyes were half closed as he listened to them. There was no telling where the group would go from here, but they were still the best shot that Solas had.
Despite this fact the Inquisition was already starting to facture after one lose. Granted it had been a heavy lose. He took a deep breath of the crisp air punctured by the acidic scent of the fires. His eyes closed. In the mists of all this despair, he had no desire to dream. His thoughts where with the herald who now lay unconscious as the advisors bickered over what to do next.
This wasn't going to solve anything, but it was far, far from his place to suggest what to do next. He opened his eyes. The night was cold. The snow floated down towards him and his breath rose in a fine mist. Solas watched the snow, his thoughts turning over what had happened in Haven. At least he knew now that the orb was still in Corypheus's hands. Though, that had been obvious from the very beginning.
She had a right to know the orb was of their people. And that the fall out of this knowledge might just destroy the trust the humans were showing in her. Solas glanced again the direction of the tent where she lay. He noted the fact she was now sitting up and speaking with the Mother.
For a moment she looked towards the three advisors then she was looking back at the Mother. As he watched, she stood and moved away from Mother Giselle, head bowed and gaze almost lost. Solas watched her from the shadows. Here, in the mists of despair, even she looked as if she was ready to give up. It wasn't an expression he had come to recognize on her.
Solas noted the fact the advisors had fallen silent. The air was heavy with the despair and hopelessness. The Herald stopped and glanced around. There was pain and hopelessness in her eyes as well. His heart twisted a little at the sight.
Then one voice rose above the crackling fire. Solas looked away from her and towards the Mother. Her head was bowed, voice soft; yet, strong and loud enough even he could come make out the words from where he sat far from them.
Solas stood, watchful and curious. Mother Giselle stopped by the herald's side. Liliana took up the words of the unfamiliar song next. Then, one by one the humans moved in towards Mother Giselle and the Herald, their voices joining with one another's and rising strong into the night.
Solas shifted and moved a little closer. He kept his expression blank as he looked on. There was a wonder in this moment. All he had seen over the years had pointed to the fact humans looked down upon elves as second class or lower. Now, here they were rising up one of the People as the hero and savior needed to bring hope to this moment, hope to the world in the darkest of hours.
As the words rose higher into the night, the members of the Inquisition bowed to the Herald. Solas watched on, leaning against his staff. The world was a curious place. After so many centuries the humans were looking to an elf instead of to one of their own. There was no denying her natural ability to lead and the hope she did bring to all of them. In the same moment, this was dangerous. As more of the truth came to light, it could destroy everything now. If all of it came to light, there would be no one to blame but himself. But she needed to know. She had a right to know the orb was an artifact of the People.
This much Solas could reveal to her. The rest? He doubted he could ever reveal that to anyone. He moved, silent so as not to disturb the singing and the hope which the words seemed to be bringing the humans.
The last word seemed to reverberate through the air. Laughter and cries of joy followed soon after. Solas moved closer to her as Mother Giselle spoke a few more words to the Herald. He watched until the Mother had moved off before coming up behind her.
He paused only long to ask, "A word?" before he moved off away from the crowd of happy humans. The only sign that she had followed was the sound of her boots crunching against the fresh snow.
They came to the very edge of the camp where a lone torch stood unlit. Here they could speak without fear of being overheard. He stopped near the torch and waved his hand, lighting it for both the light and warmth before he turned. Sure enough she had followed.
"The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting," he started as more of a way to gather his thoughts on how to best to tell her. He looked away from her and out across the dark landscape. "The faith is hard-won, Lethallan, worthy of pride," – he hesitated – "save one detail."
She moved closer, stopping near to him. The light of the blue fire caught her eyes and the angles of her face. It caused her hair to gleam and shimmer. There were signs of her struggles against Corypheus in the shadows under eyes. But the hopelessness he had seen in them was gone, replaced now by a deep curiosity.
"The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carried? It is ours," he told her, voice steady and betraying nothing more than this fact. It wasn't a simple truth. He watched her for a reaction to this information.
Her expression didn't change, though he could see her interest peek by this information.
"Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave. We must find out how he survived." The next words were what he truly wanted her to prepare for, "And we must prepare for their reaction, when they learn the orb is of our people."
There was a long moment of silence. Solas could see the debate going on behind her eyes as she thought on this new information. If she had been anyone else she wouldn't have paused to think on this one. She would have just dismissed this as something that would threaten her position among the humans or tried to shake this off as a joke. But that wasn't the woman he had come to know.
"What is it, and how do you know about it?" she asked, eyes intent as she looked at him.
These were the questions he had expected from her. Solas was more than happy to hear them even if he couldn't give all of the answers he had to her. Not yet, at least. At the very least he could frame the response to one expected of a man who spent most of his time wandering the Fade.
"Such things were foci, said to channel the power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire. But however Corypheus came to it, the orb is elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith."
He let his words sink in. She looked away from him, frowning. Whatever she said next would show him if she understood the situation they were now in or not. If she did understand than there was far more to her than he originally believe. If not… he left that thought alone.
In the past this very same orb had been wielded to help their people. Now, because of his foolishness, it was turned on their people. Without this threat the humans would never have raised one of the People so high. Yet, it could be undone far more easily than it had been won.
There were many secrets best left buried, both around this orb and around himself. The blood which had been spilled back then might just end up paling in comparison to what Corypheus now brought down upon them, but it was still the blood that Solas had to live with. Too much was at stake now to repeat the mistakes of the past.
*~ Thousands of Years Ago ~*
The raw scent of blood and decay was hung thick in the air. It intermixed with the scent of burnt flesh.
Solas gasped, coughing as the ash struck his dry throat. He stirred. The ash shook from his robes as he managed to prop himself up. His wounds still burned. The tattered remains of his robes were stained with ash, his blood, and the blood of those he had been fighting. He blinked ash and blood from eyes.
Solas shuddered as he forced himself to his knees, legs tucked under him now. The once white furs of his robes had changed to shades of gray, black, and red. That was where the fur and robes hadn't been slashed or burnt away. Somehow the bone of the lower jaw of a wolf he wore was still in one-piece. He gritted his teeth and clutched his side. Warm blood greeted his fingers.
By all rights he should be dead. If he had been like other elves, he knew he would be dead right now. He forced himself to his feet. As Solas straightened, he felt his entire body go stiff with shock.
Corpses smoldered on a ground scorched black. Those who had fought alongside Solas were now dead, nearby, nothing more than corpses smoldering or not, it didn't matter, they were gone. No other living thing stirred. Nothing was left. No one was left.
A soft wind blew the ash into the air. It pulled at the tattered remains of Solas's robes. He couldn't tear his eyes from the burned field around him. This couldn't be happening. None of it could be happening. This wasn't want was meant to happen.
Before he knew what he was doing, he screamed a cry of pain and sorrow at the dark sky. It echoed almost sounding like a lone wolf's howl than the cry of a man in pain. If he could have cried, he knew he would have been weeping, but tears wouldn't come. His hand shook as he reached out to one of the burnt corpses. This wasn't what he had wanted to happen. The others – they, but no, no!
Solas forced himself to take a step forward. Perhaps there was one survive. One of the People who had made it out this alive. One who hadn't betrayed the empire or their people in any way to the shemlen. He staggered, clutching his side. The bleeding had slowed and he suspected he was only in as good a condition he was because he had been out for over a day. The time would have healed some of the wounds.
Hours slipped passed as Solas searched the battle field. None had survived. At least none here were alive. There was a chance, no matter how slim that some had escaped.
The pain increased with each step Solas took. He reached the nearby tree line. His shoulder slammed into one of the trees. The bark was blackened from the recent fire. Breath came to him in thin gasps. His body shook and yearned to sleep to heal the wounds.
"Can't yet," he rasped more to disturb the sickening silence of the battle field. "I can't yet," he repeated.
A drop struck his head. He looked towards the dark clouds, now heavy with rain. Another drop struck him, followed by another and another. The cold rain raced down his face. Muck, blood, and ash mixed with the rain water. Solas shivered. The world was weeping for the dead.
His bare foot sunk into the mix of mud and ash. He stepped again, taking hold of next tree to remain upright. All that mattered now was searching for survivors. But what could he do when he found them? Even he in this condition was of no use to anyone. If he gave into sleep now, there was no tell how long it would take for him to heal. Decades or centuries, it wouldn't matter. By the time he next woke, it would be too late.
It was all too late.
How had this path become the only one he could see? Where had it all gone wrong?
Yes, it was all too late. To take back what had been done and where he was going. Just too late.
