Disclaimer: Dragon Age is the solely the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts, no profit is being made by me for this work.
Chapter Six: Solas, The Dread Wolf
I dip my brush into the paint. My thoughts wander as I maintain an active connection to the Fade. Spirits touch my thoughts as I lift the brush from the palette and move it across the stone. Another presense makes itself known. This one very dark grey in nature. I can barely sense it... Her... She is cloaked in magic in a way I had not seen in centuries long past.
A handy technique I used myself from time to time.
She stares at my back, waiting, watching. She is observing me as I observe her, with more than our eyes. My mouth twitches in amusement- the same general sense of amusement being felt by the woman watching me as I work. Absently, I hear my chair being pulled back and I feel her sitting in it. She barely gives the artifacts collected at my desk a second thought, granting them little more than a precursory glance.
"Is there something I can help you with Warden?" I ask. I'm only mildly surprised at her lack of surprise that without looking behind me, I already know who she is.
"I'd just like a moment of your time," She replied cordially. "You're quite talented."
I shrug as I place the palette and the brush down on the table provided on the scaffolding I was using to complete my self-appointed task. "You are being kind. I'm a mere hobbyist, at best."
"I'll concede that these aren't like anything you'd find in Orlais, Antiva, Tevinter or Nevarra. They're all far too simplistic," Morgana notes as she looks over the murals, not just the one I'm painting, but the ones I've already completed. "But there is beauty in simplicity. An understated elegance at work that most would not fully appreciate or understand."
"But you do?" I ask curiously.
"I tend not to miss much," She states. "Less than most."
I mentally shrug off the probing statement. I give nothing away, not even an indication that I'm aware that we are talking about more than the mural. It's the type of conversation I had thought I'd have had with either Dorian or Vivian, given their backgrounds- a style of conversation I'd rather NOT have with the Inquisitor.
Vivian, however, for all her skill at manipulating a court, is a little too focused on herself and how things affect her personally to see even a shade of who and what I am. She is far too focused on my outer appearance and apparent lack of class. So confident she is in her own infallibility... Pride cometh before the fall. She'd learn, just as the Evanuris learned.
Dorian, on the other hand, cares little for intrigue and deceptions. He's dealt with it all his life, but his time in the south, surrounded by Orlesian non-nobility, Fereldans and Marchers, has dulled his edge. He's free to be more himself, and so he is. If my circumstances were different, I think I could actually get along with him. The problem between us, is that we have very little in common other than being mages- something that is actually quite frustrating. From his perspective, he comes from a long line of talented mages with a proud history, one that is rich in powerful and obscure magic. My history is grander and older than anything he's ever known. Much of what his family legacy is built upon are the bones of my people's culture.
"I fear you may be seeing more than there is," I tell her.
"Perhaps, but I don't think so," she allows. Her attention turns to the murals once more. "They really are beautiful. I don't suppose I could get you to do something like this at the Vigil?"
I chuckle. "I'm sorry, but no. I use painting as a form of meditation. From the moment I pick up a brush, I open myself to the Fade and allow Spirits of Creativity and Serenity guide my actions. What you see are mostly their work."
"This is the physical world, not the Fade. A spirit can't create something from nothing," Morgana counters. "It might be their will guiding your actions, but you have to have talent for them to make use of."
I consider her words for a brief moment as I join her at my desk. "That is true. I suppose it's something I've never considered as I am always communing with Spirits whenever I paint."
"I'm much the same whenever I am running through sword drills in the courtyard," Morgana admitted. "I don't open myself up to the Fade like you do, but I do use that time in the morning to clear my thoughts and purge negative emotions."
"I'd have thought, given your... Studies, that opening yourself up to the Fade is not something you'd be inclined to do," I reply obliquely.
"Despite Chantry and Circle dogma, I do not fear Spirits or Demons, though I do respect them. I did have some difficulty for a time, but interactions with a Spirit ally of mine helped me deepen my connection to the Fade," Morgana replied in kind. "I can't do what you do, of course. But that's mostly because I've never thought to try. You, sir, are a man... elf... mage? of unique talent."
"Any of those labels suffice. They are all applicable, after all. Not that I've ever cared much for labels," I inform her. The only one that ever mattered was Dread Wolf, and that was more to inspire my allies and strike fear in the hearts of my enemies.
She nodded slightly. "I figured as much, but saw no harm in being polite. To be honest, I have little patience for those who get caught up on labels, as if those actually matter. People are people and should be allowed to be people, regardless of individual identity. Identity labels, much like names, are pretty, but are ultimately useless and irrelevant."
"You sound like Sera," I say in mild distaste. Only mild due to the fact that she also sounded like someone else I knew. Someone I cherished above all others. Not that I'd reveal either of those facts to her.
"Simple and ill educated as she may be, she's not wholly wrong," Morgana argues. "There is wisdom in wanting people to have the freedom to just be themselves without being bogged down by the biases of yesteryear."
"True," I reluctantly agree.
While I do not like Sera, what she says isn't completely without merit. Even if the girl herself doesn't fully understand the implications of her own views. In all honesty, while I loathe that she is so quick to give up the past of our people, I also admire her for it. To be so free and unburdened... I wish I could bring myself to do the same. But I can't... I won't. My course is set and I refuse to back down from it.
"However, how we got here today, relies on what we did yesterday. If we completely forget the past, we are doomed to repeat the mistakes of yesterday and we would not grow as people- either as individuals or as a civilization," I refute.
"It's not so much remembering as learning from, but I concede your point," Morgana replied. "Partially, at least. Remembering the past is all well and good, but one shouldn't get so bogged down in remembering what things were like, good and bad, that they forget to move forward. Take Corypheus, for example. For him, Tevinter is like this favorite teacup he'd had in ages long past. Only it's shattered into peices and he's looking for a way to put it back together, not even realizing that even if he manages to do just that, it still won't be the same as before."
I give her a long look. She doesn't even know, yet she hit on the head an issue that I had been struggling with. One I still struggle with, to be honest. First the Inquisitor, inspite of his being a Qunari, and now the Warden-Commander, inspite of her being closer to what most expect Dorian to be. "You are a most insightful Warden... Arlessa..." Here I pause a bit longer. "Maleficar..."
Instead of getting angry or defensive, Morgana Amell giggled in amusement. "All three are applicable, though I'd prefer if the last title remain between just us. You are full of surprises."
"You all but openly admitted to practicing blood magic back in Crestwood," I reply.
"And yet, it was the... 'Unwashed Apostate Hobo', not 'The Iron Lady', the 'Flashy Tevinter', the Qunari Spy or any of the others who picked up that bit of information," She states smirking in a self-satisfied manner.
The corners of my mouth twitch in amusement. Despite myself, I find myself taking an instant liking to Morgana Amell- easily the most dangerous woman in all of Thedas to my plans at this very moment. It is an amusing and effective weapon, how much my unassuming appearance and manner seems to give people certain preconceptions of me.
Vivian looks down her nose at me and doesn't see anything more about me than she expects. Dorian struggles far too hard to find common ground, romanticizing my people, who were hardly innocent victims in the grand scheme. Sera's general disdain for anything 'elfy', as she'd put it, not to mention her terror of magic, means she is both unsuitable for my endeavors and not even remotely a threat to them. Bull has actually noticed more about me than most, but his wariness of my magic- the way it puts him off- prevents him from delving further. The Nightingale would certainly be a dangerous opponent, but with so many other more immediate things that need investigating, she is of no concern- for now. As for the Inquisitor, despite my appearance and demeanor, he often seeks my council on the Fade, spirits and other magical matters, despite being a mage himself. While not one to debate philosophy or discuss indepth magical theory with, Inquisitor Adaar was very practical with how he learned and used magic- on;y using and learning what he needed to at any given time. He also wasn't shy about admitting when he didn't know something.
Morgana Amell, on the other hand, assumed nothing. She watched and observed. She waited. If she was an elf, I don't think I'd even try to recruit her, for a couple of reasons.
Before she was a Grey Warden, a mage, or even a human, she was Ferelden, first and foremost. My recruitment efforts in Fereldan had to be done carefully and quietly as many in that country, regardless of race, station or various other factors, saw themselves as Fereldans first. Any other designation was secondary, though even there, there were servents who were very dissatisfied with how their noble employers treated them. Denerim should have been a city full of potential recruits, given the hardships the elves there had endured over the years, however Morgana Amell had unknowingly prevented that through her efforts during and after The Blight.
The Arling of Amaranthine and Vigil's Keep were off limits completely. The reverence for her in those two places reminded me of another time and another place. Looking at Morgana Amell was like looking into a mirror and, strange as it may sound, I was actually looking forward to crossing paths with her in the future, testing her mettle against my own.
"Anyone can be found to have peculiar talents and hidden depths, provided one is willing to look for them," I reply self-deprecatingly.
"Some more than most." She says pointedly. Much is insinuated in that statement. Though the accusation is there, it wasn't made, but it was there all the same.
"Times of strife and turmoil will often bring about the strangest of bedfellows- something that I have seen be true of every age and every era, in my studies of the Fade," I reply, giving her nothing. Confirming her suspicions, likely, but that's all she has with any certainty.
She looks away, lost in remembrance for a brief moment. "That, they do. I befriended a spirit once, did you know that?"
"I was unaware. I take it this is a tale without a happy ending," I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the spirit and how she encountered it. Given that she was a practitioner of blood magic, and despite how she interacted with Cole, I found it likely that perhaps she had summoned it and perverted it's will. Then again, she referred to it as a spirit, rather than a demon, so perhaps this was something she encountered before she became a maleficar, something the Circle she came from was sure to have discouraged, possibly leaving her to explore the forbidden arts to fill the void.
"I suppose that depends on perspective," Morgana states.
"How so?" I ask.
"In some ways, his tale isn't over yet," she replied.
She has me curious. She knows this. Furthermore, she knows, I know, she knows. Few mages under the auspices of Andrastian Chantry doctrine take the time to talk to spirits, let alone call one friend. If there is one thing I loathe and love, it's a mystery; finding out that there is something I don't know.
"You've heard of the mage Anders, no?" She inquires.
"His name has come up," I reply neutrally. He, and by extension Hawke, was listed as one of the primary reasons the conflict between Mages and Templars had began.
"Something Varric barely makes mention of in the Tale of the Champion is that Anders was what the Chantry would classify as an Abomination," she reveals.
"The Chantry, but not you?" I ask, wondering where she was going with this. She was full of surprises.
"No. Something Leli failed to make mention of when she wrote my story, the tale of our adventures during the Fifth Blight, was that one of our number, the other Circle mage of our group, was possessed by a Spirit of Faith. It aided her in her time of need and saved her life, by extension, saving the lives of many others. So when it comes to possession, I'm more open minded than most, but I am cognizant of the fact that Wynne and Anders were the exceptions, rather than the rule," she explained. "After I recruited Anders into the Grey Wardens by involking the Rite of Conscription, we encountered a strange phenomenon while in a place called Blackmarsh, near Amaranthine. We had been looking for an Orlesian Warden named Kristoff and ended up being drawn into the Fade. While we were trapped there, we encountered a Spirit of Justice. Justice proceeded to help us escape the Fade, which had the unintended side effect of him accidentally possessing the dead body of Warden Kristoff. Because he hadn't intended to do so, and because it was in his nature, I allowed him to help us resolve the situation in Blackmarsh and recruited him into the Grey Wardens. Months later, due to an incident with an Orlesian Grey Warden, Anders ended up binding a willing Justice to himself and left The Vigil for Kirkwall."
"So you think it was the Spirit who compelled Anders to act as he did," I state with a frown. As much as I would like to lay all the blame on the foolish mage who bound a spirit to himself, I could see the logic in Justice being able to act in such a manner as it had in Kirkwall without losing it's nature. One of the follies of Circle Mages is that they tended to polarize spirits and demons, who represented various virtues and vices, in terms of good and evil respectively. Justice might be a virtue, but it was a harsh one. One prone to extremes. While it was bound to acts of goodness, the complexities of the waking world were such that it was possible that it could commit an act of great evil in the course of fulfilling it's purpose.
"Partly. The Anders I knew in Amaranthine hated the injustices mages were forced to endure, but he'd have never have been able to do anything as extreme as blowing up a Chantry," Morgana informed me. "On more than one occasion, Justice asked Anders, who was always quite vocal about how he felt about how mages were treated, why he didn't do more to fight that injustice. That being said, if not for him possessing Anders, I doubt he'd have acted in such an extreme manner either. According to Varric and Arty, Anders sometimes referred to Justice as Vengeance, meaning on some level, him being bound to Anders did change Justice, which in turn, changed Anders. Anders apparently even admitted as much."
I frown in thought. "But not necessarily to the point of changing it from a Spirit to a Demon. Vengeance rides a fine line between virtue and vice and Justice isn't so far removed from Vengeance that it would be considered a perversion of it's nature."
"My thought as well, though I'll admit that I'm not exactly unbiased. They were my friends and despite the fact that I know better, I still tend to think of spirits and demons in terms of good and evil," she admitted. "As horrifying as their actions in Kirkwall were, I'd like to think that Anders and Justice were at least trying to act in the service of a Greater Good."
"A dangerous line of thought that tends to lend itself committing atrocious acts of evil in service to a higher calling," I point out.
"You don't have to tell me that," Morgana agreed. "The current situation with the Wardens is because we are encouraged to think that way- to make the tough decisions, damn the consequences. If people are around to point fingers at us accusingly, it's because we did our jobs and made sure there were people around to condemn us after the fact."
My frown did not let up. If anything, it deepened. Put that way, I could see the parallels between the Warden's current actions and those of my past. And even those of my present. I was quick to condemn the Wardens for what they were doing, despite not being so different from them. They were people who were willing to sacrifice anything and everything for the sake of doing their duty, knowing that in the end, their actions were justified if it meant that the people who were damning them would live on. There was nobility in that, even if it was being manipulated to a nefarious end by The Elder One and his followers.
As much as I genuinely liked Hector and Morgana, I have to admit to resenting them slightly. Both have a way of unknowingly making me see the flaws of my plans. The wrongness of them. On the other hand, not staying the course was equally abhorrent to me. It was the ultimate no-win conundrum. I have a duty to my people, one that will see hundreds of thousands of others die so that, like Justice, I can serve my purpose. On the other hand, if I do nothing, the sins I have committed against my people, who have been forced to endure what they have largely due to my actions against the Evanuris, would be further compounded beyond what they already have been.
In the end, I am hero and villain. Savior and destroyer. Solas and Fen'Harel.
The Dread Wolf who walks the path that Gods dare not tread for fear of me.
No matter my actions, no matter what course I set for myself, I am always and forever more damned; bound to leave nothing but pain and destruction in my wake, even as I try to be the best possible version of myself.
Especially because I strive to be the best version of myself.