A/N: Set after the main storyline & end-credit scene of Dragon Age: Inquisition. Contains spoilers, Solavellan angst and some non-canon tampering of Elvish to achieve certain phrases. And angst. I mentioned the angst, right?
Yeah okay, we need some DLC, and we need it now.
For weeks, her sleep had been fitful.
It was paradoxical, really. Corypheus has been defeated, the united forces of the Inquisition had triumphed. A new Divine sat on the Sunburst throne and was slowly restoring order and balance across Thedas. For the first time in months, no pressing crises pulled Inquisitor Lavellan from her bed at dawn each day. She was not up long past dark with her council, hunched over maps and smoky candles in the War Room…. the soot from which scratched her clear elven eyes and made them painful to close.
Why, then, was she so restless?
She tossed on her side and punched her pillow. Shemlen beds were strange beasts, suspiciously warm and soft, but she'd come to terms with them…. or so she had thought. Yet every night since the celebration that marked the defeat of their enemy had she lain here, tangling in her quilts, unable to find peace.
With a growl of frustration, Lavellan sat upright, fists clenched. The moon hung full in the sky, bathing her chambers in a gilded silver glow. She blinked at it, framed as beautifully as it was through the frosted panes of glass leading outside. With an optimistic smile, she climbed out of the ridiculous sleigh-like bed and, dragging a fistful of bedding with her, she slowly moved out onto the balcony.
A long sigh escaped her, curling into the night, visible in the cold. Without further thought, she sank exhausted to the frozen stone, bundling herself in her thick Shemlen quilts. The moon gazed down on her, promising release. Desperate for sleep, her eyes closed.
"Hamin, da'len," she thought the moon whispered.
Sleep, little one.
Sleep.
Playing cards in the tavern with Dorian. It was loud and hazy, a group of stonemasons beside them were singing enthusiastically into their brews. Sera was sitting on their table, idly chattering at an arctic hare in her lap, making impolite remarks about the length of its ears. In between hands, Dorian would feed it a piece of carrot.
A hulking shadow moved from one tavern window to the next, she could feel it on her skin. Every time the Inquisitor tried to catch sight of it, it fled. No one else seemed to notice. Distracted, her pulse racing, Lavellan lost every hand.
Mumbling, the Inquisitor twisted in her sleep.
Arrow after arrow flew from her bow, yet the spiders kept coming. She could hear the crunching of Bull's sledgehammer as he swung it rhythmically into a never-ending stream of ebony carapaces. The Nightmare laughed at them.
"Pathetic," it taunted.
Vivienne whipped another blizzard into the fray, sending ice spraying across the Inquisitor's cheek as she panted. Her panic rose. "Worthless," laughed the nightmare. "Useless. No wonder he left you. Lath'din. Unloveable."
Inexplicably, a furious howl echoed from a nearby crag. A sob escaped Lavellan's mouth as her arrows flew.
"Lath'din!" repeated the Nightmare. "Unloveable!"
The Inquisitor whimpered against the cold stone.
The smell of sweet grass and the cooking fires hung thick in the air as she chased the children of the Clan around the aravels. One of the youngest spilt off from the group and took off, giggling, towards the rocky banks of the stream. "Da'len! Garas!" Child, come back, she called, but the youth continued.
Lavellan stopped running, as did the others. "Back to your chores," she smiled at them, and wordlessly they complied. She turned away from them and the small blond head of the adventurous child lead her down towards the water.
"Da'len! Din'eth!" she warned. Child, it is not safe. The child froze at the rocky banks. With great relief, Lavellan trotted to his side and pulled him into a tight hug.
Pushing at her, the small elf freed an arm and pointed across the stream. "Na fen," he announced. Fear struck at Lavellan's heart, and she slowly turned her face to the water. "Na fen'u."
Her wolf.
Her lone wolf.
The Inquisitor curled into herself in her ragged sleep. Tears, wet on her cheeks, spilled onto the stone and froze.
The wolf stared back at her. A massive creature of grey fur and piercing blue eyes sat motionless on its haunches.
Lavellan's mind raced. The shadow in the windows. The howl in the crags. A presence in every dream since the fall of Corypheus. With clarity, she knew she faced the cause of her haunted sleep. She fought against the fear pounding in her heart as she met its cold, blue eyes.
"Who are you?" she yelled at it.
The wolf stared back at her, silent, bristling with unfathomable power.
"Who are you?" she hurled at the creature again, her voice trembling. "You are no natural wolf."
Implausibly, the enormous beast cocked his head and…. raised an eyebrow? She choked out a short, nervous laugh.
"Fen'Harel," she hissed, and the wolf scraped the ground in a low parody of a bow. The elf boy in her arms squeaked in fear. She released him and he sprinted back towards the camp. Emboldened by her solitude, she quietly straightened.
"Leave them be, Dread Wolf," the Inquisitor spat.
A wolfy chuckle floated across the brook. Very well, he had no interest in the figures of her past. It was just her, then. Slowly, her nerves began to settle. Defiantly, she took a step towards him. The creature did not move. Another step, into the water this time and causing a silent ripple to pulse out across the water. The wolf's eyes snapped towards the motion. Lavellan's lips curled into a grimace.
Looking back at her, the wolf bared its teeth and gave a soft snarl. She froze and swallowed her panic. Another step. Both of her boots were in the rushing water now, her bow suddenly and magically appearing in her hand. Finally, a dream was returning under her control.
Two more steps put her in the middle of the stream and the wolf's fur bristled. He gave a low growl but she tamped down the fear it summoned. She bared her teeth back at him in return. The wolf produced an expression that she could only describe as shocked.
"Stop."
A man's voice rang out in her head. She was unable to hold onto it, to examine it… it slipped from her mind like a tadpole from her grasp.
She answered with a snarl of her own. "Trickster God," she ground out. "Why have you been haunting me?" With a mere thought, an arrow materialized in her free hand. She smoothly nocked it to her bow.
"Lethallan, don't be ridiculous," the wolf sighed, and a wave of raw power pulsed towards her. The arrow spun out of her grasp, splashing harmlessly into the water. Again, the words slid like silk from her awareness. She frowned and willed another arrow into her hand. Step. The great grey wolf twitched.
"I will have answers from you, Fen'Harel," demanded the Inquisitor. "You've shown yourself and you will answer."
"Very well," the wolf bowed sardonically. The gesture seemed so… familiar…
Lavellan cursed under her breath as the memory slipped away.
"An answer for an answer seems fair," the wolf continued. "Ask your curiosity, and then I will demand mine."
She nodded curtly, standing in the cold water without concern. "I ask again, Dread Wolf. Why have you been haunting me?"
The wolf huffed. "A waste of a question, Lady Inquisitor Lavellan, if I may say so. You are the most important person in all of Thedas… an elf, no less. You have the attention of entire empires. Is it really so strange that you've drawn my eye?"
Lavellan swallowed thickly, disappointed by his reply but unsure why. "Very well. You've had your full of me by now, I hope. Seen that I am nothing extraordinary, simply a victim of circumstance…. a master of nothing but being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Another wolf chuckle emerged, this time the beast shook with restrained laughter. "No, daughter of Lavellan, that was not my conclusion."
The familiarity of his words, again a turn of phrase that seemed to be an echo of…. it disappeared like a puff of smoke that made her want to shout in frustration. "Then what is your conclusion?" she demanded, but the wolf continued to laugh at her.
"Oh no, emma lath, you posed your foolish question and cannot now replace it with a more sensical one," the wolf teased her. "Now it is my turn."
Emma lath. For a brief second, her heart pounded. Why would he call her his love…..
and the thought was gone.
The wolf pinned her with a deathly serious gaze. "How did you know?" the voice in her head intoned.
It was her turn to give a derisive snort. "Oh, please. Dread Wolf you may be, but real wolf you clearly are not."
"How did you know?" he repeated, his voice now booming, pressing against her like a hand.
She surged the rest of the way across the water and stood boldly in front of him. The wolf was so incredibly large that even standing, she was roughly head to head with him. She leaned in and the wolf gave a peculiar shudder. Meeting his gaze, only a few inches from his muzzle, she felt strangely calm.
"Your eyes," she whispered.
The wolf's massive tongue swept across its muzzle, a gesture that looked for all the world like nervousness. "Eyes?"
"Your eyes, fool wolf," she taunted, baring her teeth. "Any elf of the Dales could tell you, mature wolves do not have blue eyes."
Fen'Harel growled softly, flashing his tongue out again and startling her with an infinitesimal lick of her cheek. Her hand flew to her face and she stared in shock into his eyes… his unnaturally intelligent, clear, familiar, blue eyes…
Her heart thumped…
Her eyes widened…
"Solas….." she breathed.
The wolf leapt up and staggered backwards. "Wake up!" he shouted.
"Solas, no!" she cried…. all too late.
He was gone, and so was she. All that remained was a hollow, unearthly howl, a sound of the greatest sorrow imaginable.
Alone on a balcony at Skyhold, she sobbed.