Some elvhen credits to FenxShiral
da'lan: little one - term of endearment
seth'lin: literally= thin blood. Means flat-ear. Taken from da wikia page.
uthenera: literally = long sleep or endless dream. Immortal elves would enter this slumber-like state instead of dying. Taken from da wikia page.
Falon'Din: god of death and fortune who guides the dead to the Beyond. Taken from da wikia page.
In Mar Lath'in Dys Nuisa (ta) - In Your Heart Shall Burn (2)
"Third unit, march!"
A lieutenant's voice rang out above the clamors of soldiers, soon followed by the crunching noises of snow crushed under heavy boots. Soufehla marched along with the others, her feet stomping through frozen snow.
She was placed into the third unit of soldiers along with Solas, while Cassandra led the second unit. None she knew personally was placed in first, as that was the unit with highest risk of encountering a demon they weren't aware of lurking about. And despite her own battle prowess, she was far too valuable to risk on an operation such as scouting.
So she quietly put one foot in front of the other, surrounded by dozens of soldiers, ploughing through the path already stomped out by the first and second units that's gone ahead. Perhaps it's because she's already accepted her death. Perhaps she's finally gained the courage to face Falon'Din and shaken off the fear of passing into the Beyond. Or perhaps the fear itself has numbed her to its presence. But whatever the reason may be, despite suspecting she walked to her death Soufehla couldn't help but yawn. It was surreal, she mused. Soufehla was rather glad that the nervousness and anticipation of climactic doom did not creep onto her. Better to leave the world laughing and full of confidence than shivering in fear like a common seth'lin.
"Da'lan," Solas spoke, too low for shems surrounding them to hear. Soufehla gave him a swift glance, but otherwise pretended as if she heard nothing. The shemlen soldiers marched on, oblivious.
"We stand on the verge of change, da'lan. Your actions today will forever decide the fate of the world."
Soufehla tossed her head, and Solas continued.
"For what do you seal the Breach for?" He paused, giving her a moment to think.
What did she want to seal the Breach for? Despite its Mark on her left hand, the Rift was no longer a threat on herself. The demons were no longer falling out of it. If she were to go around the world sealing the little Rifts, the dangers posed to this continent by the demons would diminish as well. Perhaps with time, sealing the small Rifts would mend the Breach itself and the dark, crimson future may never come to pass. It was only a theory, but still a possibility. There was no reason for her to rush headlong into this mad attempt at sewing the heavens shut.
But she thought of Dorian's perfectly curling mustache, of Varric's chest hair shaking as the stout dwarf laughed, and of Solas' quiet chuckles. She remembered at Sera's obnoxious pranks, Bull and his Chargers' loud and off-key singing, and Cassandra and Leliana's devout faith in their Maker. Josie's kind smile lured her own smile to shine on her face, Blackwall's heartfelt approvals straightened her back and made her stand tall with pride, and the Commander's sparkling amber eyes warmed her beating heart.
Perhaps, she had found the reason to seal the Breach along with a way to seal it.
"Da'lan, remember your People." Solas murmured, meeting her gaze.
"They stand with you."
Solas watched the little da'lan think, bemused by the way she chewed on her lips. He also noticed the exact moment when she'd arrived at her answer by the way her eyes softened, by the way her lips curved up into a quiet smile.
And he knew exactly what answer she's arrived at. He'd spent the past seven years watching this little da'lan, heard her deepest secrets and her most desperate wishes whispered inside her dreams. He knew her better than any, even herself. And there ever was only one motivation for her actions. Her Clan. Her desire to be accepted as a member of her Clan, her hunger for companionship, her yearnings for their love were etched deep into her heart, fueled her every motion. It was a twisted, corrosive bond she carried with her Clan, but what better to motivate her to save the world than to remind her that her very own Clan was in danger until she did so?
"Da'lan, remember your People." He said, too low for the shems to hear.
"They stand with you."
She looked up at him, her bright eyes steeled in resolve.
"I am the First to Clan Lavellan." She growled, her voice icy.
"Your Clan relies on you, da'lan." He whispered.
"It is my duty to protect Clan Lavellan, no matter the cost. I will seal the Breach, and fulfill my duty." She replied.
"And you will succeed."
"Of course. Failure will not be tolerated." She tossed her head, the bells jingling with the motion.
"The Breach will be sealed today. No other outcome is possible." Soufehla hissed, and marched on.
"***"
"Snap to it!"
"Oy there, don't fall off!"
"Fourth unit in place, ser!"
"Maker, stop the chit chat over there and focus!"
"Fifth unit, report?"
"Ready here as well, ser!"
Solas watched the shems scurry about, moving into position around the blast site within the Temple. Da'lan was standing right nearby the first Rift, patiently waiting for the soldiers to signal for her to start. Like him, she was willfully ignoring the whirlwind of commotion as others prepared for the Herald of Andraste to mend the heavens.
Little da'lan stared at her hand, at his magic crackling on her palm. Even standing this far off, he could sense his old magic calling to the Breach. It thrummed in tune with the beat of the Breach, and with the beat of da'lan's heart. He felt a ghosting ache in his own palm, from the memories of time back then… from across his endless lifetime while he was a living god.
He closed his eyes for a moment, the screams of his People screeching in his mind. But for now, he allowed the memories of his pitiful failure to fade from his awareness. Focusing on his budding admiration for the courageous da'lan, he cleared his thoughts of time before his uthenera. Steady images of da'lan's determined gaze filled his heart instead, and Solas was finally ready to fix one of his many mistakes.
"Mages! Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!"
He cried, lifting his staff high into the air. Mages fell to their knees as one on his command, their mana pooling thick around da'lan. It was time.
Soufehla took a step toward the Breach. And another. Solas stood and watched her advance, standing his ground against the blinding glare of his magic sizzling and cracking, refusing da'lan's entry.
But she pressed on, rejecting even the notion of backing down. Solas saw her glare at the Rift, saw how she poured her anger, hatred, and strength into his magic to power it. He knew she was thinking of her duty to her Clan then – the look upon her face was once etched onto his own thousand years ago when he erected the Veil.
His magic roared, denying her will, balking at the foreign presence attempting to command it. But paying it no heed, da'lan thrust her hand up at the Rift and his magic burst forward and connected to the Breach. It howled and wailed, seeking for its rightful master, seeking him – and hearing its cry set his flesh alight with long-forgotten power. He trembled, the da'lan's magic being poured into his own ripping him through the passage of time before his mistakes.
Da'lan threw her head back and howled, her scream blended with a voice of a wolf's by the effect of his magic – and he threw his head back and howled in response. His old magic, so close, so so close, so aching, writhing against a stranger's command, and he felt his own claws and fangs itching to erupt from him, to return to his old form of Fen'Harel.
It was then da'lan dipped into the pool of gathered mana, wrenching him back to the present. The disgusting, sickly oozing magic of shems clung to his magic, and Solas gasped. His eyes bore into the blazing Mark carved into da'lan's hand, and he howled his frustrations, his wrath at having his Anchor seized by another, at the very indignation, the insult being done to him by this thievery.
Her hoarse voice responded to his call, scratchy and weak with strain, and the pain she suffered by his magic finally reeled him in, entrapped his old self within the current flesh again. Biting down on his lips, he cracked down on his raging instincts and focused on the precious da'lan struggling with his power.
She wrestled with his magic stubbornly, refusing to back down even an inch. She tugged and tugged, demanding the Breach be closed, demanding his magic answer to her commands.
It was his Anchor she tried to overwhelm, his magic she trembled with. His.
And it was his precious da'lan trying to commandeer his magic. None other than this da'lan who brought him out into this mangled world.
He looked to the heavens, looked to his magic, to the hole gaping in the Veil, his creation. So much of this was born from his mistakes… and it was she who was mending his faults, not him.
The Anchor which should have been on his self was carved into the palm of another. And despite the odds laid before her, she fought to the teeth with pride and honor. For this da'lan, just for this precious child, he would allow the exploitation of his powers as a god. Raising his fist towards the Breach, he roared with the authority of Fen'Harel.
Ar raja ma, vhalla ash! I command thee, accept her!
Da'lan yanked at the Anchor, and with his command his magic gave. Feeling the mark yield, da'lan wrenched harder at the Breach, the glowing tower of his magic pulling, tugging until it exploded in spectacular shower of lights.
The eruption whipped through the ranks of Inquisition, the gust of air knocking most shems from their feet, but Solas remained rooted to the spot. He picked up the vague commands for the soldiers to light the torches, as the light from the Rift and the Breach had gone out plunging them all into darkness. Through the rustle and clanging of scrambling shems, blindly groping about for torches, Solas gazed at the dim figure of his da'lan. With his elven eyes he saw her standing, reaching for the sky with her hand where the scar remained. He thought that perhaps there was a sparkle of wetness on her cheeks… but it was probably the remnants of his magic.
vote!
Soufehla x Solas vs Soufehla x Cullen!