This is one of several short stories set in the Dragon Age universe I've had rattling around in my head for a while that I'm slowly working out; after finishing the brilliant and bittersweet ending that was Trespasser, I wanted to write my own interpretation of the final confrontation between Solas and my Inquisitor Cyrene Lavellan (who has for me become as much a favourite character as Arthur Cousland). I posted this originally a few months back, but I'm reposting it with the original text expanded somewhat, as well as an second chapter detailing the ultimate fate of the Inquisition, which I felt deserved a look at too.

I hope I've managed to convey the impression that the Inquisitor (who in my headcanon regarded Solas as a trusted friend/mentor figure) is quite justifiably furious to learn someone who they trusted has been lying to them since the very beginning (as I would be, as many of us are, I suspect) and willing to cut all ties. I've changed some of the dialogue to replace bits I wasn't fond of or fit in some of the dialogue options I really liked, but hopefully with this I've done justice to (in my opinion) one of the best and most moving parts of the Dragon Age saga.

As to be expected, spoilers for Dragon Age Inquisition: Trespasser follow. Also a brief allusion to The Masked Empire in there as well.

After this and the story I published that preceded it, I promise the next couple of things I write (for Dragon Age at least, I make no promises for anything else!) will be a bit less sombre.

Enjoy!

"Ebasit kata. Itwa-ost".

"Maaras kata!"

"Your efforts have failed and your men are dead" I snap curtly at the Viddasala, gesturing at the petrified and broken corpses of her soldiers dotted all around the garden beyond us, revelling in her astounded expression at the ease with which I have just dispatched her so-called elite. "Leave now with your life and tell the Qunari to trouble me no further"

I turn away from her and walk towards the glowing eluvian at the end of the path, back to where my ever-growing host awaits for new orders. I hear the Viddasala let loose a roar of desperate rage and the tearing sound of her pulling a spear free from the grip of one of her slain men. She grunts as though hefting the spear, about to throw it; without breaking stride, a single thought of mine is enough to dispatch her the same way as the rest of her Ben-Hassrath thugs. I continue onward along the age-worn path, nothing more to disturb me…

"SOLAS!" A voice I had both expected and dreaded to hear at some point in these events calls out to me. She has arrived. I toy with the notion of continuing to walk away-three more steps and I will be through the eluvian before us, secure in a part of the labyrinthine passageways where even she cannot follow- but I do not. Of all those I have wronged, all those I have used, she has become the one I regret the most. My meddling irrevocably altered her life in ways that she never asked for, made her into the figurehead for a crusade she probably never wanted to be a part of, set her down a path she would never have walked without my intervention. If nothing else, I owe her truth.

I turn on my heel to face Inquisitor Cyrene Lavellan, clad from head to heel in ornate robes of reddish black leather, adorned by armoured gauntlets and pauldrons of silver-plated steel. In the crook of her arm, she holds her helm, the one Inquisitor Ameridan once wore millennia ago…which falls to the ground as she collapses, clawing at her marked hand as if burnt. I stride over to her and with a single gesture, still the raging magic. Cyrene Lavellan slowly gets back to her feet, glaring at me askance.

"That should give us more time. I suspect you have questions"

"How are you able to control the Anchor?" she demands.

"In the same way I kept it from killing you at Haven…though I am stronger now than I was then"

"No doubt your master has taught you a few tricks in the last two years. So where is he?!"

"Where is who?" I ask, confusion writ across my face.

"Your master. Whoever is calling himself Fen'Harel. The one the Qunari you serve as an agent for" she demands, her disbelief at my seeming denial indicating she only has a few pieces of the puzzle. I understand I must give her the full picture.

"The Qunari disregard myth and legend. Had you told them of your encounter with Mythal, they would have dismissed her as a demon. I am no one's agent but my own; I suspect the truth is far more complicated and frightening than the Qunari imagined". I watch her expression change as the wheels turn in her mind and she comes to the only remaining conclusion.

"You're Fen'Harel?!" Cyrene's reaction is one of astounded incredulity, as is to be expected when you tell someone they're standing in the presence of a being their culture has taught them to fear and mistrust since they were a child.

"I was Solas first. Fen'Harel came later, an insult I took as a badge of pride. The Dread Wolf inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies…not unlike Inquisitor. You too know the burden of a title that all but replaces your name"

Her reaction is not what I expected; Cyrene's right hand slams into my cheek. My head snaps back at the force of it, and her next blow collides with my nose; through a haze of pain and streaming eyes, I see her pale, tattooed features contort into a snarl, her voice dripping with fury.

"You tricked me. You used the Inquisition for your own ends. You lied to me about everything!"

Her fist pulls back for another blow, but I meet her gaze and her expression becomes one of shock as my irises flash silver. She retreats shrieking as the Anchor flares to life on her palm at my command. Wiping the blood trickling from my damaged nose, I get back to my feet and silence the Anchor's raging. I am not cruel- I will not torture or punish her for her justified anger- but there is much to be said and little time left now to allow unruly emotions to disrupt what must be said between us.

"I understand your anger; were our positions reversed, I would share your fury. I have done more than enough to earn your hatred, but I am not the monster the Dalish paint me to be" I confess ruefully.

"You're really him?""

"I sought to set my people free from slavery to would-be gods. I broke the chains of all who wished to join me. The false gods called me Fen'Harel, and when they finally went too far, I formed the Veil and banished them forever. Thus I freed the elven people and, in so doing, destroyed their world."

"You love the Fade. Why would you create the Veil to hide it all away?"

"Because every alternative was worse."

"Meaning?"

"Had I not created the Veil, the Evanuris would have destroyed the entire world."

"How is that possible?" Cyrene presses me, confusion asserting itself over anger. "From what I saw in the Crossroads, the Evanuris were mortal mages- powerful certainly, but still beings of flesh and blood. How did they come to be remembered as gods?"

"Slowly. It started with a war." I explain sadly, remembering my own time as a soldier in that bloody conflict, the atrocities committed by both sides, the monsters and weapons of destruction engineered by one side and then the other in the desperate pursuit of victory.

"War breeds fear. Fear breeds a desire for simplicity; good and evil, right and wrong, chains of command. After the war came to an end, generals became respected elders, then kings and finally…gods. The Evanuris".

"How did creating the Veil destroy the world?"

I pull back a short distance from her, because I know my next revelation will only stoke the young woman's rage higher. "You saw the remains of Vir Dirthara. The library was intrinsically tied to the Fade, and the Veil destroyed it. There were countless other marvels, all dependent on the presence of the Fade, all destroyed. The legends of your people are half-right. It was not the arrival of humans that caused us to begin aging. It was me" I explain sadly, the guilt I feel as strong now as it was the day I brought everything crashing down. "The Veil took everything from the elves, even themselves".

I turn away from Cyrene Lavellan, unable to bear the look of mingled rage, disgust and fury in her eyes, knowing that I brought the Elven Empire to its knees and turned our people into slaves and second-class citizens for all the millennia that followed.

"You destroyed our people. You made us beggars and brigands across the world. WHY?! Tell me that, at least. What did the Evanuris do that finally turned you against them? How did they go too far? What could they have done that justified so much destruction?"

"They killed Mythal" I reply sadly, remembering my own hand in finishing the job barely two years ago. "A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment"

'One that I will accept willingly, once my task is done'

"But…I thought Mythal was one of the Evanuris?" Confusion crosses the girl's visage.

"She was the best of them" I explain "She cared for her people; she loved and protected them. She was a voice of reason amongst the Evanuris…and they murdered her in their unremitting lust for power".

"You banished the false gods? You didn't kill them if they were guilty of such crimes?"

"You met Mythal, did you not? The first of my people do not die so easily. The Evanuris are banished forever, paying the ultimate price for their misdeeds."

"That's the past. What about the future?" she demands, clearly no longer interested in my attempts to justify history, but wanting to know what I'm scheming on. I pause, uncertain of what to say.

"I lay in dark and dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages passed. I woke still weak a year before I joined you. My people fell for what I did to strike the Evanuris down, but still some hope remains for restoration. I will save the elven people, even if it means this world must die."

"Why does this world have to die?"

"A good question, but not one I will answer. You have shown a thoughtfulness I have always respected; it would be easy to tell you too much" I reply with a rueful chuckle, before becoming instantly more sombre. "I am not Corypheus; I take no pleasure in what I must do, but the restoration of my world means the end of this one" I conclude sadly, before trying to cast the matter from our conversation with a dismissive wave of my hand.

"It is my fight. You should be more concerned about the Inquisition. Your Inquisition. In stopping the Dragon's Breath, you have prevented an invasion of the south by Qunari forces. With luck, they will return their focus to Tevinter. That should give you a few years of relative peace." But Cyrene is unwilling to let matters drop.

"The Qunari said the Inquisition was unknowingly working for agents of Fen'Harel."

"I gave no such orders." I reply defensively, though I know that's not quite accurate. I never controlled the Inquisition. No. I merely guided its course, shaped it, directed it on the best course of action to thwart its enemies. It might not have been me at the organisation's head, but my hand was certainly on the tiller, charting the course. The scowl on Cyrene's face tells me that she thinks exactly the same.

"You led us to Skyhold" she finally snaps.

"Corypheus should have died unlocking my orb. When he survived, my plans were thrown into chaos. When you survived, I saw the Inquisition as the best hope this world had of stopping him. And you needed a home. Hence, Skyhold."

"You gave your Orb to Corypheus?!" Cyrene demands, the outraged incredulity in her voice palpable, no doubt bred from an image in her mind's eye of myself on bended knee like a supplicant before the darkspawn magister, offering up the Orb in my cupped hands to him.

"Not directly" I counter, desperate to explain myself, though judging by the deepening sneer on her face. "My agents left the artefact where the Venatori were sure to find it. The Orb had built up magical energy while I lay unconscious for millennia; I was too weak when I awoke to unlock that power myself, so I required someone who could. I knew the cultists would take it to their master, and that he would not hesitate to use it in pursuit of his ambition of apotheosis. My intention was for Corypheus to unlock the Orb and for the resultant explosion to kill him; once he was dead, I would have reclaimed the Orb for my own" I explain, letting a bitter sigh escape my lips as the memory of how my plan unravelled all but from the start. "I had not anticipated that Corypheus's innate connection to the Blight had made him all but immortal"

"If your plan had worked, if the Orb had slain Corypheus, what would have happened?"

"I would have entered the Fade using the Mark you now bear…then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the chaos, I would have restored the world of my time…the world of the elves"

"You never cared about us" Cyrene snarls, spitting at my feet in loathing. "All we ever were to you was a means to an end, to clean up your mess and get you what you wanted"

"You were people, and you deserved better…like all those I have used in one hopeless battle after another". I reply sadly. It is the truth, though I know she will never believe it any more than she will want to hear what I have to say next. "You must understand, I awoke in a world where the Veil had blocked most people's conscious connection to the Fade. It was like walking through a world of Tranquil.""

"We aren't even people to you, are we?" The disgust in her voice is plain to hear.

"Not at first." I concede. "You showed me that I was wrong..." I sigh remorsefully "Again. That does not make what must come next any easier."

Her gaze darts past me to the glowing mirror, no doubt considering my connection to it, the ease with which my agents have used those artefacts to hinder and thwart the Qunari's efforts, as well as to evade the Inquisition's attempts to stop us.

"You control the eluvians now?"

"Yes" I confirm. "For a time, your old ally Briala controlled a part of the labyrinth. One of my agents was supposed to take that control from her but he failed. I…I had to override the magic personally" I explain, a bitter note entering my voice as I remember Felassan's failure and what I did to punish his defiance, remembering the sound as the blade sank deep into his back. "The Qunari stumbled upon this section independently; with them now gone, the eluvians are mine"

Cyrene gnaws her lip as she takes that pronouncement in, no doubt weighing her options, considering that if we are to be enemies, control of the eluvians is sure to give my forces a great advantage. To give herself more time to think on that, she addresses another point I raised that clearly irked her.

"What's wrong with the Inquisition?"

"You created a powerful organisation, and now it suffers the inevitable fate of all such things…betrayal and corruption"

Now it is Cyrene's turn to become defensive. "It's not that simple"

"Do you know how I discovered the Qunari plot? How I lead them to your doorstep?" I retort coldly at her ignorance for believing the Inquisition above such matters, that it and it alone will be the exception. "The Qunari spies inside the Inquisition tripped over my spies in the Inquisition. The elven guard who told you about the Qunari body? Who discovered the gaatlock barrels at the Winter Palace? One of mine"

Anger blooms across her face again at the realisation her Inquisition was not as infallible as she believed. It doesn't surprise me the next words out of Cyrene's mouth are an accusation.

"So you pitted the Inquisition against the Qunari, hoping we'd do your dirty work for you?"

"The mistake was yours to fix".

Anger blooms across her face again, but now it is marred with confusion, as if she is trying to make sense of something she doesn't quite grasp. "Why did you help us? Why bother stopping the Qunari if you're going to destroy the world anyway?!"

"You have shown me there is value in this world, Cyrene. I take no pleasure in what I must do" I insist earnestly, because it is true; I have seen things of wonder and beauty in this world that I would have dismissed when I first awoke, a great many examples of such- courage, loyalty, determination, friendship- displayed by the woman who stands in front of me

"Until the day comes when I must do what I must, I would see those recovering from the aftermath of the Breach free from the shackles of the Qun". Cyrene will know there is truth to that- she knows I have always had nothing but contempt for the Qun and its disciples- but she still seems uncertain.

"But why?"

"Because I'm not a monster" I insist with a sad smile. "If this world must die, I would rather its people die in comfort". I still remember the pain and fear of the old elves as the Veil came to live, screaming in terror for their gods to save them as they were left trapped in either this world or those bound to the Fade, forever lost in one or the other. I have no wish to hear such horrible sounds again. I will give this world a cleaner end.

"In any event, it is done".

I can feel the last vestiges of my magic warding her flesh from the Anchor begin to dissipate and meet her venomous glare with sadness.

I'm sorry, da'len, but we are almost out of time" I intone as my wards finally collapses and the Anchor's power erupts back to life with a vengeance. Cyrene screams as if scalded, falling to her knees as she claws at her left arm; the flesh smokes and smoulders as the magic runs rampant, the leather and metal of her robe's sleeve burning away to reveal her arm swiftly turning a translucent green, the bones partially visible as the skin and meat of her arm begins to cook.

"The Mark will eventually kill you; only I could have borne it and survived. Drawing you to this place allowed me to save you…at least for now" I explain, an awkward pause lingering between us. I can save her, but will she welcome it? And if I do spare her life, what will it lead to? I saved her life once and I turned her into a crusader. This time, I fear I may create a monster.

As she looks up at me again, Cyrene's pale green eyes burn with a hatred so intense I am surprised it doesn't burn me. Fighting through the pain, her lips pull back, baring her teeth in a near-lupine snarl as she spits the words "If I live through this, I am coming for you, and I will stop you, by any means necessary". Her eyes darken as she whispers one final promise in elven.

"The next time we meet, Solas…Ar tu na'din"

"I know" I reply sadly, knowing that something I have treasured is as lost now as the Evanuris. I know our friendship is dead. I know that she will devote as much effort to thwarting me as she ever did to stopping Corypheus. I know that one day in the near future, a day will come that will end with the blood of one of us drying on the blade of the other. That between us, in the future, there will be no respite, no consideration for friendship and old comradeship, only war and death.

"I'm sorry" I whisper sadly as I gently take her burning hand in my grip as my free hand closes into a fist and my irises flash silver once again, petrifying her left arm as far up as her elbow. The magic of the Mark will devour the stone but leave the rest of her flesh untouched. A darker part of me wonders if it would not better to let her perish here, but I dismiss it. I have done enough wrongs to her, both unintentionally and knowingly; this is my final chance to balance the scales, one last act of kindness before between us, there will be only war.

"Live well, while time remains" as I take my leave of a woman I cared for, a woman I admired, a woman I so deeply wronged and step through the eluvian to where my host gathers, and where begins such an uncertain future.

Translation

Qunlat

Ebasit-kata. Itwa-ost.: It has ended. You have all fallen.

Maaras kata: Nothing has ended/ It is not over.

Elven

Ar tu na'din: I will kill you.