It's dark.
I'm in a forest that stretches as far as the eye can see.
Old, powerful magic fills the air, making my skin tingle.
These are the things I take in before the screaming starts. I can't tell where it's coming from, but I know who's doing it.
I run through the woods, the screams becoming more panicked and agonized as I sprint. They're getting louder –any moment now, Creators please—
He's in the middle of a field, body contorting and fingers scratching, making his scalp bleed. Purple fire comes off of him in swatches, illuminating both the forest and his face, the latter of which is filthy with blood and tears. There are words mixed with his screaming, in both Elvish and common. I hear my name amongst the garbled pleas, and that is what makes me move.
First, it's one step, then another, and then I'm sprinting towards him, terrified. I crouch before him, dodging his flailing arms, trying my best to calm him down. I have no idea what to do.
"Solas," I say, my voice low and unconcerned, even when he catches me upside the head with an arm. "Solas, calm down. Solas, I'm here." I repeat this for what seems to be an eternity before he actually responds.
And when he does, when he realizes that I'm there, not some figment of the Fade or a demon sent to torture him, he freezes. There is nothing calm in his demeanour, no realization of love or happiness in his gaze –there is nothing but blind terror, made worse by my presence.
"Vhenan," he whispers in a voice so broken it can't be his. "Vhenan, what are you doing here?"
"Does it matter?" I ask, reaching out to soothe him. He jumps backwards, out of his contorted shape and sprawling on the ground, chest heaving.
"Da'len… you have to leave. You must. Run. Wake up, please," he pleads. He meets my gaze, and I can see he's breaking.
"Why, Solas? What's going on?" Never mind I haven't seen him for nearly a year –now he needs my help. He's in pain, and Creators but it hurts me to see him like this.
"I can't–" He contorts again, his face twisting into something nearly inhuman. "No –please, leave me era-harel, Fen–"
And then, it stops. Solas calms and unwinds himself, standing like he hasn't a care in the world. The Fade tingles as he cleans himself and heals his wounds, and he begins to walk about, muttering to himself.
"Well, that was more difficult than anticipated, but was it even worth it? Now that he fights me, how long can I remain in control? All these emotions, roiling and boiling beneath the skin –ah, how long it has been since I have felt this. What's this? Sadness, anger… and…" Solas trails off, seemingly as perplexed as I about this scenario. Suddenly, he straightens and turns on the balls of his feet in a move so un-Solaslike that it makes me cringe.
"Ah, yes!" he says, looking at me. I stand slowly, trying to meet his gaze but I find that I cannot. "It's you! He feels… something, but it's about you!" Solas bounds closer, his face coming within inches of my own. "Tell me," he says, and his breath smells different than usual. "Why would he think so highly of such a drab thing as you?"
I step back in indignation, raising my eyes to meet his despite the pain. They're purple instead of their usual blue. It feels as though my soul is being wrenched out of my body, and this only adds to the colour of his eyes.
"Who are you, and what have you done to Solas?" I say, my voice wavering just the tiniest bit.
Solas smirks, a parody of a familiar thing, and raises his head (for the sole purpose of looking down on me, I think). "I have not done anything to the elf that he has not agreed to. That said, I am not exactly the same elf."
I scowl at him. "I can see that," I say, not taking my eyes off him. "What I'm asking for is an answer, not a riddle. Stop avoiding the question."
The smirk only grows wider as Solas steps forwards once more. "Well, I can't be recognized right away. That would take all the fun out of it, don't you think?" Solas winks conspiratorially, eyes dancing in their purple fire, "Although, since he thinks you're the best thing since aravels, I might just tell you –for a price, of course."
"Name it," I say without hesitating. Spirits can't possess multiple bodies at once, and once a spirit possesses something it can't leave the body until death, so right now, I can treat this thing that's got Solas under its thumb as a person. And people can be manipulated. The faster I agree, the sooner I get what I want.
"Well, aren't you agreeable?" the spirit says, smiling in a way Solas wouldn't even dream of. Like a cat that's caught a half-dead bird, and is just going to play with it instead of ending its life quickly. "In that case… tell me what you think of the Ancient Elvhen Gods, elfling." To this, he seems genuinely interested.
To me, however, the question takes me completely by surprise. The Gods? "You mean Andruil, Mythal, Elgar'nan…? Those Gods?"
The spirit rolls Solas' eyes, a well-worn expression of irritation crossing over his face. "Yes, those Gods. Are there any others?"
I gape at him for a moment, trying to put my racing thoughts into words. This could be a ploy, or a plot, or something. This demon got Solas, there could be more… or this whole scenario could just be a demon manipulating my fears to get to me. I have to be careful. "I… they protect us. They try their best to guide us from their prison, although it's not always possible…" I trail off, trying to remain neutral, give the answer a spirit would expect of a Dalish Elf.
"And what of Fen'Harel?" the spirit says, circling me, appraising me like a rancher would before buying cattle.
"The Dread Wolf?" I can see where this is going. Mythal and Flemeth, Kieran and an Old God... my eyes widen as it all snaps into place. "You're the Dread Wolf?"
"One and the same, da'len," Fen'Harel says, an approving smile gracing Solas' face. It doesn't reach his eyes.
"Wh- why would Solas…" I have so many questions. What is Fen'Harel, of all people, doing here, and in–
In Solas' body? Creators preserve me.
"There are wrongs in this world that must be righted. And Solas wanted to help," Fen'Harel explains. "He felt for his people, and called out into the Fade. He woke me, and I responded, much like Mythal did all those years ago. I can help our People, da'len."
"You imprisoned our Gods," I raise my voice to an almost-yell, trying my hardest to remain civil. "It's because of you that Arlathan fell! That's your fault!" It's a losing battle, and my voice escalates with each word until I'm screaming. Magic sparks around me, dangerous, unmerciful, and at my command.
The spirit, however, does nothing but sigh with a small, dissatisfied frown. "From what I've seen of you from the elf, I would've expected better. Silly me, I suppose –you mortals never learn." At these words, the purple fire flares again. Solas' face goes pale, white, crinkling with pain.
"Vhenan," he manages, and it has to be Solas. "Run. He'll–" a scream. "He'll kill you, and I –I can't stop him."
I can't run, not now, not when he's in so much pain. Instead, I step closer and wrap my arms around him. "Let him," I whisper as I hold him. "Let him."
His body's wracking with every breath, his heartbeat's erratic and his breathing's even worse; I'm not sure how much longer I can hold onto him. Eventually he calms and returns the gesture, kisses me for the first time in over a year.
"Vhenan. Da'len. Da'assan," he whispers. "Ma'arlath. Ma melava halani, da'len. Abelas, abelas." He's crying, and the embrace tightens. I can't breathe, my chest hurts, and Creators help me I'm crying too.
I repeat his name over and over, trying to soothe us both. It seems as though an eternity's passed by the time he looks up, looks at me and actually sees me. His eyes are blue again, haunted and scared.
"Ma vhenan," he says. "I'm sorry, but you have to go. You must, or he will kill you, and I –I don't know if I could live with that. Abelas, da'len. Me emma lath," he steps back hesitantly, almost reluctantly, face twisting with a different kind of pain even as the purple fire engulfs him again. "Wake up, da'len. Wake up."
Soft.
Warm.
Stone walls, not trees, surround me.
These are the things I take in before the crying starts.
A.N: I've gotten a request for the elvish translations, so here you go:
Vhenan: heart (ma'vhenan is my heart)
Da'len: little child -a term of endearment
Da'assan: little arrow (he never calls her this in the game, but I liked it)
Ma'arlath: I love you
Abelas: an apology
Me emma lath: You are my love
Era-harel: dream-trick, or trick of dreams (harel can also mean dread, like in Fen'Harel's name)
Fen: wolf
Ma melava halani: (roughly) you helped me
besides that, I love you guys! I may not be the most popular author, but I some followers, which is more than enough for me. Thank you guys for reading, R&R if you like it!