It's a great title to end on, hm?

Translations and apologies at the bottom.

Contradictions and Ambiguity

Notes penned, addressed, and sealed, I went back to my bedchamber for a robe while I waited for Harding and Sera. I wanted them soon, but it was only just after dawn, and there was a fair chance both of them had had eventful nights, so I was willing to forgive them whatever time it took to wake fully.

As I was pulling on my robe, my eyes fell on the table beside my bed, and I realized it wasn't as empty as it had been the day before. Then I remembered Solas holding in his hands something I couldn't make out, and the way he had turned to set it down before sitting on the bed himself. Apparently it had been intended for me.

I walked over to inspect whatever-it-was.

There were two somethings: a small but exquisite wooden box and, beneath it, a book bound in a plain leather cover with no title. I intended to start by looking at the book, wondering if it was what I thought it might be - but the box riveted my attention as I lifted it out of the way. Rising from it was the faint but unmistakable scent of nehnadahl.

I brought it closer to my face and breathed deeply, turning it over in my hands as my fingers traced the intricate figures of leaves and flowers carved into the top. Solas had described nehnadahl as red-gold in color, and wood of the box was a beautiful red, with a shimmering depth that might fairly be called "gold," though I might have called it "metallic" instead. Where he had found it I could only imagine. Perhaps he had owned it all this time, and I had simply never known.

I lifted the lid off, and set it carefully back on the table as I sank down on the bed.

The interior was lined with gold velvet, evidently not new as it was worn shiny in spots, but not so old that the fabric had begun to decay. Nestled within the velvet were two parcels wrapped in paper - and why became clear as I unwrapped the first one. Two sets of earrings fell into my waiting hand. One was a set of studs with simple, polished, round crystal beads. The other had similar crystals shaped into dangling teardrops. All four crystals lit softly as they touched my skin - so softly that, had the sun been much higher, I wasn't certain I would have noticed the light. On the paper was written an explanation: Though the enchantment housed in these is far simpler than that which gives ven'ter its unique properties, still I hope it will remind you of the time we spent together in the Fade. You may also track your progress toward becoming a mage by how brightly the crystal lights, though I suspect you will not gain much more in power until you are again exposed physically to the Fade. Still, any mage, however weak, can always hope to better her mastery over whatever power she commands, and I know Enleal will aid you in that endeavor. As an additional benefit, I cannot fail to give you the correct size in earrings, which is a considerable relief to me after my previous failure.

My eyes stung, and I wiped them quickly. Why? Why could he never allow me a straightforward set of emotions? The note was sweet, bordering on cheerful, and the earrings were perfect - the studs suitable for wearing every day, and the other set for formal occasions. How could I be angry with him when he had - ?

Oh, but I was.

Even so, I wasted no time in putting on the simpler set, and though wearing them still inevitably reminded me that we weren't together and never would be - there was undeniable comfort in once again having a token that declared Solas my mate. It warmed me, too, that he had put real thought into it this time. I even forgave him for doing such a terrible job the first time, finally feeling what I had always told myself: that he had been in too much of a panic to give much of anything the attention it deserved.

Finding I could let go of that small resentment was soothing. It made me wish I could find a justification for his behavior the night before. I would even have taken one I couldn't make myself believe in at the moment, simply on the promise that I might believe it one day. But no, I had nothing.

Sighing, I took out the second parcel and unwrapped it. This one was an amulet - a pale wood disk inlaid with darker wood in the shape of a tree, with veins of lyrium running up its trunk and along its branches. It felt...quiet, and yet friendly, too - which was a strange sensation. Clearly it was enchanted, but I had been wearing enchanted jewelry for years and never felt anything from it. I turned my attention to the note that had come with it.

It seems strange to me, to write something whose necessity I have not yet ascertained. Still, I would rather have it ready than not, and I can always take it back with me if you have not conceived. This is for our child, as you have no doubt surmised. I don't know how the Veil and your youth might change things, but those of us born in the early centuries of the world sometimes came into our gifts as we learned to speak and walk - long before the age of reason, discipline, and training. There were fewer demons, then, and so amulets such as these were rare - the domain, primarily, of particularly overprotective parents who, perhaps, neglected their gifts and had few friends among the spirits. I am glad they existed, though, because I know how they are crafted and enchanted. This amulet insulates the wearer from the Fade and also serves as a beacon for friendly spirits. Should our child begin coming into his or her gifts early, it may be of use, even though you already have a growing acquaintance among friendly spirits and may have little need of it.

I felt my brow furrow as I finished Solas's explanation and read it again, feeling there was some missing line or passage, though it took me a third reading to decide what it was. He had given me something that might be of use - good - but was that all? He didn't want to give something personal to our child? To leave a note addressed to him or her? That this was all he left - a tool that might or might not be of use, and a note addressed to me - rekindled more of my anger. I could come up with some nearly-reasonable excuses for his failure, but all of them looked pathetic when I imagined attempting to one day explain to our child why he might have acted as he had.

Lips compressed, I put away the notes and the amulet with scrupulous care, and then put the box aside, reaching for the book. It was, as I had expected, an account of the vowel shift between old Elvhen and Dalish Elven. He had offered some advice: Older spirits such as Enleal can act as your conversation partners, though their accents may be somewhat muddled as they were shaped by many mortals hailing from many regions of the empire. Nehnadahlen might prove another useful resource - its accent is remembered clearly, at least. I fear you will sound like a foreigner no matter which places and periods in Elvhenan's history you might encounter within the Fade, and no matter which dreamers might wake when the Veil falls, but you ought to be intelligible, which is the important objective.

Noting down the vowel changes and offering advice only took a handful of pages. After, he had written down pages and pages of poetry. I gave you a volume of Dalish poetry and songs I had collected once, he reminded me. It had, in fact, been his gift to me for Nirathai - and an unexpectedly good one, at that, since he had already started the volume for his own reasons, and then simply finished it so he could pass it to me. I couldn't, then, give you anything from my own youth. Now, at last, I can. Unlike that first volume, these he had written entirely in runes, which had only been true of the Dalish songs he initially recorded for himself. The rest he had written out phonetically to make things easier on me.

Now he apparently expected me to have enough grasp of the language to make it through with no worse than moderate hardship - which might be overestimating my abilities a little, but I couldn't deny that I would enjoy the challenge.

He had also attached small, semi-personal tags to some of the verses: Ara mamae unsulen ra sulahn melahn ar de da'lin or Da'lenen unalas'nira rund'alas'nirash la'var undirtha raan av'sulahn. No real explanations, nothing regarding his feelings about any of it, just the slimmest possible semblance of context.

And yet - it was so much more than I had ever known about his most distant past that part of me thought I should probably just be grateful.

And...I was, though I resented both my gratitude and the lack of information that made it possible. In fact everything about this day so far was a long, unending morass of contradictory emotions.

I was still puzzling my way through the book when Sera and Harding arrived, both looking harried, carrying various pieces of a light breakfast. I had left the door between my bedchamber and sitting room open, and they first deposited their burdens on the table outside, before Harding cautiously poked her head in, Sera peering at me over the top of it.

"Are you-?" Harding began, and then broke off, apparently uncertain what, exactly, she wanted to ask.

"Someone let Solas into my room last night," I began, glancing up at them and lowering the book to rest in my lap. My tone was clipped, but, I thought, admirably matter-of-fact. "He was dressed as a servant. It might have been Elze, whom I hired this morning either in spite of my suspicions or because of them - I haven't quite decided. I'm carrying Solas's child - wanted, by both of us - which is what he came to learn. He cast a sleeping spell on me to keep me quiet, and I'm furious with him for it, though it did allow me to learn that, due to my physical exposure to the Fade, I'm becoming a mage. He also left me some lovely - and rather thoughtful - gifts, but nothing personal for our child, and I think if I ever see him again I will open with a punch, followed by either a kiss or a knife somewhere relatively non-vital." I paused and took a breath, reaching for calm. "Other than that, everything is...more or less as usual. Which," I added as the realization dawned on me, "I suppose means some degree of terrible."

Two pairs of eyes stared back at me, and I had to admit to myself that the end of my recitation had veered a bit out of my control. There was a tightness in my chest that I refused to acknowledge. I could only hope it didn't show on my face.

Vain hope. Sera recovered first. "That droopy-eared, piss-drinking son of a bollocks-gargling arse-biscuit!" Her profanities began in a snarl and ended in a yell as she half climbed over Harding to reach me. She dropped herself onto the bed beside me, her shoulder pressed against mine and her eyes darting around the room suspiciously, as though Solas might reappear at any moment.

Harding watched her performance blankly, and then continued blinking for several moments before finally managing to pull herself together. "I...have a letter to write and an army of servants to question. But - do you remember that secure conversation we were going to have?"

I nodded. I had been spending too much time in the Fade to make time and provisions for it.

"Yeah. I think it's time. I am going to need an enormous dose of context to wrap my mind around any of this."

"I don't know," I told her rubbing my temples. "I have all the context and still can't wrap my mind around it, so I'm not optimistic regarding your chances. But come sit down. Sera can lock the door and place a few traps in the sitting room to ensure no one sneaks in, and we can talk all you like. Perhaps talking about it will clarify what merely knowing has not."

"Should've brought brandy instead of tea," Sera muttered, bouncing up from the bed to secure things in the outer room.

"Good," Harding sighed, either not hearing or choosing to ignore Sera's aside. "Maybe you can help me write my explanation to the Divine while we're at it."

"On second thought, you had better go out and get some paper," I advised her. "You may want to take notes."

"Maker," she sighed, "things are never simple with the two of you, are they?"

My only possible response was a choked laugh.

Translations first:

Ara mamae unsulen ra sulahn melahn ar de da'lin: My mother sang this song when I was a boy

Da'lenen unalas'nira rund'alas'nirash la'var undirtha raan av'sulahn: Children danced a round-dance while reciting these verses

I know. It's not the most satisfying conclusion. There may be - should be - an epilogue, and there will definitely be more memories from Solas's point of view. I realized I already have one finished that I had forgotten about. There may also be a sequel - but that's the problem, you see: I need to know what the official story is going to give us before I can come up with a real, non-ambiguous ending.

I've added so much that this can't possibly end up being in line with the official lore, but if the official ending is a good one, I would at least like mine to...echo it? Rhyme with it? If it isn't a good one, then I'll feel free to embellish as I please. But it all hangs on knowing more. So...that's where we are. Hopefully Bioware gets its act together and gives us the next game sooner rather than later.