Lath'asha Fen'Harel
The Bride of Fen'Harel
It was a quiet day for the occupants of Skyhold. The soldiers had moved down the mountainside to train on more open land, even Sera was quietly skulking around the barricades. She was surely rigging some sort of prank but otherwise remaining silent, something even odder still. And Cassandra had elected to striking one of the practice targets instead of yelling obscenities at nobles who insisted on bothering her.
And sitting peacefully in his armchair, reading a report that had been delivered by one of his agents was Solas; the Dread Wolf.
Suddenly he set down the report. He sighed at the broken Elvhen and truly wished that he had the time to teach his people the language properly so it wouldn't give him the skull shattering headache he was becoming so accustomed to. Taking his mind off it, he looked up at the new fresco he'd finished painting not moments before, of a young elf dancing in an elegant silver gown, and two women leading the future of an empire, hand in young elf was at the centre of a large crowd, spinning in circles and little glimmers of crystals following herwherever her dress went, human nobles gazing upon her in awe. In the distance stood a single male elf, content to even bask in her undefinable beauty.
"Solas, can you take a look at this?"
His musings were disrupted briefly. He gazed up at the rookery, towards the voice beckoning his attention. It was the woman who caused him to change everything, his plans, his wants, his dreams, a woman who'd danced the night away, who had played the game of human politics so expertly. And perhaps most importantly of all, a woman who had hiked a silver floor length gown up to her knees so she could climb a trellis in the middle of the most prestigious ball of the age.
Lanna Lavellan, his heart.
"What is it, if I may ask?" He inquired as she attached a rolled parchment to the leg of one of the Nightingale's crows.
As she finished the tie, she explained. "It's something I found hidden away in the Winter Palace, and it's completely in Elvhen. If anyone can understand it, it's you."
With a smile, she sent the crow on the short trip down to the rotunda. The bird perched itself on Solas's arm as he undid the string around its leg. It wasn't a long piece, surely any Dalish elf could figure out most of the meaning, but it was the title that gave him pause.
"Lath'asha Fen'Harel…" He whispered to himself, pain ebbed into his voice.
Memories of a warm light cloud his senses, of a young elf with auburn hair dusting her pale fingers against his jawline and whispering words of affection he didn't believe he deserved. She dances away, holding out her hand for him to hold, and as he reaches out for it he smiles, completely at peace. Then the memory quickly changes, there's a lifeless body in his arms, blood spilling out from her pale lips as they slowly turn blue. Hergreen eyes stare up at him in acceptance, acceptance of her fate as they eventually flutter closed and his first true vhenan is lost to him forever. Taken.
"So? Can you translate it?"
He was momentarily startled by Lanna's sudden presence, but he never let something like that affect his demeanour. "Yes, where did you find this exactly?"
"It was in some storage room full of broken mirrors." She explained. "There were others, but they'd been burned pretty severely."
Eluvians. He mused to himself. These are probably her notes.
In truth, there was once what one may call a bride to the rebel God, but she was far more than that. She was a woman, simple and pure, beautiful and tenacious, who had caused pride to kneel. He loved her before the Veil, he loved her smile, her aura, her stories, and he never dreamed that her words would've survived all those years. In truth, he hadn't even known that she had started to pen her latest tale before he lost her.
"I want the People to remember you for who you truly are, ma sa lath, can you blame me?"
But then he wondered, would Lanna believe in the words written on that page? Of the dreaded Fen'Harel being something more than a nightmare, than the tales her clan had told her? Would she accept that he was a man, one that wasn't malicious or cruel, one that wished the best for the People, one that fell in love and knew true happiness?
"Vhenan," He started, "you've been accepting of Elvhen truth before, would you mind hearing this story and could you bear the same acceptance?"
She cocked her head to the side. "Of course, have I ever given you reason to think otherwise?"
He shook his head. "No, you haven't. But the story – it's called, The Bride of Fen'Harel."
Her eyes widened suddenly. "As in – no –are you quite sure?"
"Yes." He admitted. "Would you care to listen to it?"
"How is that even a question!" She exclaimed with joy, rushing over to the red settee and curling up in her usual spot.
Solas chuckled to himself quietly, taking up his spot next to her. "Alright, vhenan, as you wish.
"Whoever finds this, I shall have you know that this is the pure and undeniable truth. And while this story bears the name of the woman that the Dread Wolf fell in love with, the contents therein are about the man himself. Of a man commonly seen as a trickster and a deviant, as the harbinger of doom and ruin, and of chaos and destruction itself.
"This man was no such thing, he was clever, yes, but he was, at his heart, kind and just. He wished the best for the People, freeing them from their bonds and wiping the marks of their voluntary slavery from their faces. He, in fact, freed me as well. A debt I could never hope to repay."
"This is incredible." Lanna said in awe, looking up at Solas with that spark in her eyes. "It's so rare to find text about our Pantheon, and this sounds like it was before the fall of Arlathan! The author doesn't mention Fen'Harel's betrayal or the destruction of the empire, perhaps… oops I interrupted you, is there more?"
He nodded. "There's a small portion left, but it doesn't bare anything of note."
Huffing in displeasure, the Inquisitor crossed her arms with a sour look on her face. "Figures. If only the rest of it hadn't been burned beyond recognition."
"If it's any conciliation," He started tentatively, "I'm familiar with the tale."
Lanna's eyes nearly popped from her skull. "What! You've got to tell me what happened to the Bride!"
"She –" He tried to say but got caught on the words. The wound was still far too fresh. "Perhaps another time, vhenan. I'm sure there are other things that require your attention."
Her jaw dropped. "You're – you can't just say something like that and then dismiss me!" She laughed. "But you're probably right, I haven't written the reports from our adventure through the Dirth, yet. Sooner or later Cullen or Leliana are going to want them."
She gave her lover a quick kiss before heading for the stairs. "I'll be back for more of the story later, if you're still willing to tell it."
He nodded slowly and watched her disappear, the warmth of her spirit still lingering on his skin. She sensed his hesitation and gave him a way out. If only he understood himself that well. Feeling exasperated he threw his head back over the settee, wondering how to tell her about his former bride without giving away his identity or shattering his still healing heart. Eventually she would question how he knew of the tale, and he could only say "I've seen it in the Fade" so many times before shewould start to doubt.
It wasn't a lie, for everything used to be part of the Fade, but Lanna didn't know that either. Keeping his plans and his identity a secret from her was getting more and more difficult as each day passed. She was so understanding, so kind, and irrevocably in love with him. He was almost certain she'd still accept him and he wanted to give her everything because he had already taken everything from her.
She would die by the mark given to her by his orb and it would be his fault. He tried to ignore it, the guilt, but she reminded him of his bride. Of the first woman to capture his heart and bare it alongside her own, of the first woman to distract him from the Fade, of the first love that he drove to slaughter. Of his beautiful Isha.