First story for Solavellan. SO MANY FEELS. I use neutral terms for Lavellan, like the game does, so everyone gets to envision their own Lavellan in the story. This Lavellan, however, story-wise is based on my own: Mage, who let Morrigan have the Well, and removed the vallaslin. I did not play an angry/vengeful Inquisitor. See for yourself! I feel like I came up with a new twist on an old idea for post-canon Solavellan. Here is the first of three parts!
Enjoy! And don't forget to let me know what you think, positive or otherwise, constructive criticisms welcome. :)
The Taming of the Wolf
The eerie swirling hue of the veil sky blanketed the landscape as the weary wanderer placed one foot in front of the other. The many months that had passed, nearly two years since Corypheus met his end at the hand of the woman he loved, Solas had remained hidden beyond the Veil. Though, it seemed like an eternity. Each step forward took him further into his flight from everything that had happened.
And everything that had gone wrong.
He had he lost the object he had felt was the key to righting all the wrongs of the past, as well as his greatest source of power, when the orb had broken in pieces. And with that sacred sphere, he had lost the last shred of hope of saving his people. The Elvhen were no longer the people they had been. The modern elves, the Dalish and city elves, had lost so much of their true history, and succumbed to a more human way of life.
But she, the Lavellan who had changed the present world through her power and thirst for truth, was the only thing left that his heart clung to in the mundane world. She not only had changed him. Her incredibly strong spirit and pure intention could still be monumental in reshaping how the all mortals, not just the elves, view the gods, the fade and true magic.
Mythal had become a stumbling block, and eliminating her from the equation by absorbing her spirit and was the easier task. He had hoped that it would be enough to begin repairing the damage his choices had caused. But he had once again been proved wrong, much to his chagrin. Deep down, he knew his beautiful mage would be disappointed in him for that underhanded move. But there was so much she didn't know. The lone rebel wondered if she could ever truly understand.
Once again, Solas's conscience gnawed at his resolve. With every passing day, as he dwelt on his options and tried to formulate a new course of action, the infamous Fen'Harel felt doubt worming its way into his heart.
He recalled Varric's rebuttal concerning the story of the lonely fisherman. His dwarven companion's words had struck a chord back then, daring Solas to shift his perspective.
"...He went on living. He lost everyone, but he still got up every morning. He made a life, even if it was alone. That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes — and it's gone forever. The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets."
He considered the plausibility of that truth, which he had yet to accept. Solas had always been the one to fight for progress, to push forward no matter what the cost. But now, the Dread Wolf was forced to reevaluate all the sacrifices he had made to bring about the future he had envisioned, and how in his slumber, the world had indeed torn his aspirations apart. Still, he refused to believe that all of it was truly gone forever. He refused to lie down and die, never mind alone. What the great Fen'Harel had not foreseen was finding something that made his resolve waver: Someone, rather, who had inadvertently provoked a change of heart in the feared God of Rebellion. Progress as an act of love for others and the greater good, rather than sheer righteousness, was such a foreign ideal. One that was too mortal for his liking, yet it moved him despite himself.
Could 'forward' simply not be in the direction that I perceived?
The single consideration, the idea that he may have been wrong in his attempt to reverse the thousands of years of change that his legendary actions had sparked, stung his pride like a viper. Cringing, he shook himself momentarily of the notion.
Once again as he considered the Inquisitor, her notion of unifying Thedas in peace, and unmasking the truths of their world.
She didn't flinch at the thought of letting me remove her vallaslin. She welcomes change, if it means doing what is right. Would ma vhenan understand my intentions if I were to tell her the truth?
His gave pause as he caught himself referring to her so intimately. Would he ever truly be able to let her go? And would he be betraying himself and his goals if he returned to her? Or would he be possibly be truly moving toward progress once again?
"Ar lath ma, vhenan..."
Those words had left his lips so easily. The one and only time he had spoken them, and they were, then and now, an undeniable truth. It was the first time he had ever let anyone in. The first time he had faith in someone other than himself. His ground had been shaken by a mortal's singular bright existence.
The Lady Lavellan really had changed everything.
Has the world torn down everything I've built-demolished everything I have striven for? There must still be a means to that end...but no matter how much I keep moving, I am, regrettably, getting nowhere. And now, I can't help but wonder...Was leaving her side truly the way? Was this Fate's revolt against my own revolution?
He growled in frustration. There was only one way to know.
The sun slipped away behind the glistening mountains, shadows of dusk sweeping over Skyhold. With well over a year having passed, the Inquisition had continued to provide aid and protection to citizens of Thedas. Their reach of influence and involvement had extended well beyond the borders of Ferelden and Orlais. Despite the heavy workload, reparations and changes in her guard, she remained strong with the support of the Empress and her army as well as the backing of her former spymaster, Leliana, the new divine and head of the Chantry. But during the days she spent in the grand fortress when home from an expedition, it was difficult to avoid the painful reminders of one who was missing. Today had been one of those days, that she had sat in the study at the bottom of the rotunda, pondering the symbolism that lay within the elegant artwork her long-lost lover had created. As frustrated as she was with him, Lady Lavellan knew Solas never did anything without good reason. He was rational, intelligent, calculating yet still caring. She had a feeling that he was hiding to protect her from something.
Why wouldn't he let me decide for myself? Or, at the very least, to let him set off on his own, knowing what he had to do?
Now, as evening fell upon the Frostbacks, the exhausted elf gazed upon her staff poised at the ready near the stairwell of her quarters before lighting candles and torches to fend off the encroaching shadows in her room. The flicker of fire held the hope of assuaging her escalating nerves.
She had been plagued by a recent string of unsettling dreams that had begun a couple nights prior, leaving her with an ominous gut feeling that she was about to be drawn into something she'd never imagined possible.
On the first night, she dreamt that she had been wandering the lush forestry of the Arbor Wilds. It was oddly quiet and void of other life: no wildlife, no people. She found herself drawn to the Temple. The unwavering Inquisitor gave the old gate a shove. A curious sensation crept over her as she made her way up the old stone steps, the feeling of being watched. The guardians of the temple were gone, now, and not a soul could be found. It was unnerving to be so utterly alone in a place she last saw wrought with chaos. Indiscernible whispers beckoned her forward.
But somewhere in the back of her mind, Solas's voice echoed. "The Veil is thin here. Can you feel it in your skin, tingling?"
It dawned on her that she could, in fact feel the sensation of nearly tangible spiritual energy all around her. Perhaps she was being watched over by the spirits of those who she had fought for. Although unsure of its identity, she felt no malevolence in whatever the presence may have been. Wandering into the courtyard, the Lady Lavellan found herself in front of the great statue of Fen'Harel.
There, at the front paws of the wolf, lay a tome marked with what resembled vallaslin, however completely unfamiliar. When she opened it, pages flipping in the light breeze, it was blank. Puzzled, she brushed her hand over the old parchment. At her touch, suddenly ancient writings began revealing themselves. After going through a few pages, she realized that her limited literacy in the old language rendered reading it fairly difficult.
When she awoke the next morning, to her utter shock, the tome lay on her desk in the corner of her room, empty once more. Bewildered by its sudden appearance, she regarded it a moment before taking any action. Attempting to recreate the dream, she touched the first page...
To no avail.
She noted that there may be a spell that could unlock the tome. But would have to wait for her arcanist, Dagna, to return from a mission to analyze it. Morrigan would still be able to help her read it, as far as she knew, having taken on the power of the well. But still it would take as long as Dagna needed to decipher the magic that unlocked its secrets.
During the second night, her dream had her galloping across the Plains on her horse, and decided to stop at the river, near where once stood a Dalish encampment, to let it drink. She sat on the banks, as the incredibly tall trees shaded over her and her companion as they rested. Her eyes drifted shut, delighting in the trickling of the river over stones and moss.
Suddenly the sound of leaves and grass crunching in a slow, gentle approach snapped her back to attention. There sat, about 20 paces from her, an extraordinarily large black wolf on the riverbank. But unlike the black wolves common to the plains, its half-dozen eyes were a haunting silver, rather than a fierce gold.
She stood cautiously to reach for her staff, but it was too far from her grasp. Panic washed over her as the wolf approached slowly. Uncharacteristically nonthreatening in its behavior, it came over, looked at her and rested on its haunches, taller than her and a little too close for comfort. She cocked her head to the side, trying to assess what was happening, when she remembered the tome at the statue the night before.
"Did you leave me that tome?" she asked it, deciding that within a dream anything is possible.
The ominous beast bowed its head slowly, as if in affirmation.
Could this be..? The intrigued inquisitor swallowed hard.
"Am I correct in assuming that you are Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf of Elvhen legend?"
Once again a slow graceful bow of its head signaled that she was being graced with the presence of a god. Her nerves were rattled, the god of deception and rebellion was visiting her in her sleep. It suddenly occurred to her that she was his target in some way, shape or form. This could be a blessing, or this could become a terrible curse. It all depended on how much stock she would put in Solas's insights on the ancient ones.
Despite the fact that he is the most fearsome god in all of Elvhen lore, her courage was not shaken. She was willing to give the benefit of the doubt that he was not here to harm her, at least in that moment. She would find out his purpose.
"With all due respect, I am wondering to what pleasure I owe the visit of a god."
The beast refused to speak, but lay down beside her and then seemed to wordlessly implore her to respond in kind. With a small gasp, she did as she was requested, and sat next to the intimidating immortal. As they sat in silence, much of Solas' knowledge about Dalish history and lore came to her racing mind. Her heart softened at the realization that she was able to handle this situation with tact because of his wisdom.
Silent, restrained tears began to form in bittersweet nostalgia.
As if sensing it, the wolf turned and regarded her, eyes glistening as if waiting for explanation.
"I beg your pardon. I had someone very dear to me, on quite a few occasions, discuss how we present-day elves have gotten our history wrong. He was very wise, and very special. But it's because of those words that I feel like the truth of your story is far from what I know it to be," she admitted plainly.
The daunting creature's grey-blue eyes held her gaze for a moment before turning away.
"I mean no disrespect," she reassured, nearly placing her hand on his dark fur, but stopping herself in hesitation. "Actually quite the opposite. I am flattered that for, whatever your reason, you chose to give me the tome," she further explained, all the while praying she hadn't angered the daunting deity.
It turned back to face her as she continued to sit in a relaxed stance, legs outstretched towards the water.
"I promise you, Great Wolf, that I will get it translated and read it immediately," she finished. "Admittedly, I haven't studied Ancient Elvish for long...but I want to understand. I just wish that the one person who could have helped me with that was still around."
The Beast remained stoic, yet by her side, gazing across the river into nothing. Familiar, like a dog to its master. The intuitive Inquisitor wrestled with the conflicting emotions of trepidation and empathy. With a sigh, she looked the god in the face.
"No wonder the gods are disgusted with us. We have no clue...but I hope to change that."
Without warning, the Great Dread Wolf, most fearsome of the gods, in a show of trust, placed his muzzle in her lap and exhaled.
She had awoken abruptly from the second dream in utter disbelief. The Lady Inquisitor, hero of Thedas, was being called upon by Fen'Harel himself. The task was complicated, and she still felt guarded. The internal argument between head and heart had her asking herself, "What would Solas have to say about this?"
Her heart already knew the answer: To be intelligent and reasonable. She would be rightfully cautious of the powerful being, yet open-minded to another side of the story.
So here, on the third evening, in the privacy of her ornate suite at the top of Skyhold, the perplexed mage paced around her room, occasionally looking to the snowy mountains, glistening in the moonlight, as if they held an answer. Impatience was whittling away at her sanity. Another night could not go by with the possibility of the Dread Wolf visiting her once again without any further knowledge. Pausing occasionally by her desk to stare at the ancient leather-bound tome. Finally she gave in and walked over to her desk, turning the book to face her.
Bound in some kind of leather, likely canine...but those markings...
It finally occurred her.
"This...is likely the original mark of Fen'Harel," she spoke aloud. As she let those words slip from her tongue, she recalled his many names. "He Who Hunts Alone, Roamer of the Beyond and Bringer of Nightmares...Lord of Tricksters, God of Deception...God of Rebellion, The Great Wolf."
"Roamer of the Beyond..." she repeated to herself. "His myth and power are strongly connected to the Fade." Eyes wide in revelation, she declared, "That just might be it. And worth a try, at least."
Opening the book with her right hand, a deep breath filled her lungs and the energy of magic tingled down her arm into her left hand, summoning the power of the Fade through the Anchor.
Holding her breath, Lavellan passed her hand over the the front page. As the green haze shimmered and dispersed, leaving black ink-like markings in its wake. Elvhen glyphs were written above and below an all too familiar image: two wolves howling.
"The statue in Din'an Hanin...The Knights' Guardians...Solas's painting..."
"Era Fen'Harel, Vir Revasan...The Story of the Dread Wolf, the Path of Freedom."
Breath rushed through her parted lips in a sigh.
If he were here, he could have been there with me and spoken to Fen'Harel. He could have helped me with the mystery being revealed to me. But he's long gone, it seems, never to return.
She unveiled over twenty more pages which were covered in text, hoping for more imagery, possible clues, but came up at a loss.
With more questions than even before, she pulled back the heavy blankets on her bed to settle in for the night. The link between the wolves of the Emerald graves, The Inquisition, and Fen'Harel were all linked somehow...
And the one person who can give me the answer is nowhere to be found.
Her weary mind continued pondering as she floated off into slumber.
Her eyes opened to the sight of a familiar waterfall. The scene took her breath away. It was the beautiful lagoon he had brought her to when he removed her vallaslin, where they shared their last precious moment together.
...Before everything fell apart. I must be really have him on my mind if this is where my dream brings me.
She was sitting against a tree at the water's edge. The sound of crickets and other night creatures mingled with the steady tumble of the cascade before her.
Feeling nostalgic, she stood to take a walk around in the serenity of the night.
"Are you enjoying the book I gave you, Vhenan?"