AN: Hello all! It's been a while since I posted a new AU - but this one could really do with some feedback. If there is any interest with this I may turn this into a full fledged fic - so let me know what you think!
Cheers,
V
Solas woke to find himself in chains, his head pounding, body aching from the forcible draining of magic he had endured for nearly three days. They had seen to that with brutal effectiveness, and he had not even a drop of magic left to heal the bruises and cuts upon his person.
But who they were was impossible to say. Observant though he was, he had not seen them clearly when he had first been attacked, and even now they were careful to knock him unconscious before they dared appear.
It had helped their cause that his cell was a dark, dimly lit hole.
But when he lifted his head this time, expecting to see rough hewn stone, he found himself in an open courtyard instead.
Lit by the fullness of the moon, it may have been dark, but it could not compare to the deep shadows that had been his companions in that cell. Rather, the velvety blue seemed almost peaceful.
Water sprang from opulent fountains along the courtyard's periphery, cascades of silver in the moonlight that fed each feature, each one larger and more complex than the next. And upon the white stone walls climbed pale-blossomed flowers so small and iridescent they looked almost like a shimmering curtain of pearls, a creation of the sea rather than land.
But in the end, it was not the shimmer of water nor beauty of the flora that surprised him, rather it was the sparkle of crystal, of twisting spires and soaring buttresses that made the breath catch in his throat.
He knew those responsible for such architecture, but they had not been seen for a millenia, and he had not yet found a way to free them.
"So the wolf awakens at last."
He knew that voice though he'd only heard it a handful of times before. Hard, almost, cold, when he slowly turned his head to look at the speaker he was not disappointed.
Abelas, the guardian from Mythal's own temple. It had not been so long that he had forgotten the man, but there was something unsettling about seeing him now.
Were the guardians responsible for his capture?
"What are you doing here?" Solas asked. "And where are we?"
Though he was in no position to ask questions, Solas cared little for the consequences. If the other man had wanted him dead he would not have squandered his countless earlier opportunities. Whatever his intent, Solas was needed alive and he could use that knowledge to his advantage.
"Do you not recognize it?" Abelas' expression may as well have been carved of stone, there was not even the slightest inflection to betray his thoughts.
"It is called Tarasyl'an Te'las. Though the humans that lived here recently called it Skyhold."
Solas stiffened, gazing around the courtyard with new eyes, trying to see the fortress that it had been not long ago. But every recognizable fixture had been erased, and there was not even the slightest detail that might betray its return to its ancient heritage.
He had been gone nearly twenty years. A whisper in the grander symphony within which he lived but perhaps it had been too long after all.
So much had happened in such a short time.
What else had the guardians removed?
Mulling over the words, Solas frowned grimly, "What fate befell the people who made their home here, the Inquisition?"
"Ah, your friends." This time there was a smile upon Abelas's lips but there was no joy in his expression, "They were encouraged to leave. Those that agreed were spared what came after."
A chill settled in Solas' gut as the faces of all those he had called friend floated up from the depths of his memories.
"And what exactly came after?" He asked softly.
"Our lady took her rightful place on the throne."
The Inquisitor's Throne.
Lavellan.
For the first time Solas appreciated that he remained kneeling on the ground, knowing with terrible clarity that the strength in his legs might have failed him then.
"Did you kill them?" He asked, "Mythal is dead. Who did you serve by removing the Inquisition?"
"We serve the vessel of the next generation." Abelas said cryptically, "We were called to her side, and it was her command that bid us clear Tarasyl'an Te'las."
Solas felt his chest give a painful squeeze.
Lavellan never would have willingly submitted to another power, would have fought for the keep and its people. Had they killed her? Or was she shackled somewhere, a prisoner of the very elves she had often spoken about with such longing?
The Dalish may have longed for their past, but even these guardians had been twisted by the weight of their duty. There was no one left of the old ways, and the vessel that commanded them now was likely just another misguided elf.
It was a story not unlike his own, but Solas could not condone it if it was true.
He had made mistakes, but he had tried to right them. It was unthinkable to even consider showing mercy to one who had destroyed those he had come to care about.
"Why?"
Solas' question lingered in the quiet, mingling with the soothing rush of water and whisper of wind. And though it looked like the guardian might respond, there was a sudden bloom of green light in the distance and whatever the man's intent, it was bent to the will of that magic.
"It seems you will have your answer soon enough."
And with a wave the shackles around Solas' hands came undone, leaving him free to move. It was a hollow gesture however for even now his magic remained woefully out of reach, and he posed limited threat to the guardian who was, even now, armed to the teeth.
Their trip towards the throne room was a silent, subdued affair. Solas lingered only once when they passed a row of lovely sculptures, each one commemorating a veiled elven woman, the styling of which made it clear the lady expected to be treated as the pantheon before her.
The wolf in him rebelled, seething at the thought that history might try and repeat itself once more.
"This...lady...she is not Mythal."
Solas knew what had become of the All-Mother, but confirming it for himself seemed important. Abelas had declared his devotion to her for over a millennia, so it was impossible to know what had spurred him into service this time.
Solas had no idea what the guardian meant by vessel, but it did not bode well.
"That is correct, she is not." Abelas paused at the top of the steps, "But she speaks with the Mother's wisdom, it is enough for us all."
They reached the entry to the throne room not a moment later, and though Solas continued through, he stopped when the guardian lingered at the entry.
"You do not wish to follow?" Solas asked, feeling his brows raise.
Abelas lips quirked, "I will not be needed."
"And if I try to attack her?"
The man's smile grew, sharpened, "I do not think you will. Though if you try it would be a fool's errand. She could crush you if she so wanted."
Knowledge was power, and Solas meant to gather as much as he could before facing this false god.
"If she is so very powerful then why doe she need you?" He asked, sharpening his tone to a cutting edge.
"For when the moon is new." Abelas responded patiently, cutting the conversation short with the obliqueness of his answer.
And before Solas could press the issue, could ask the guardian what he meant, the bloom of green magic returned to touch the arch between them and seal it shut.
Decision made for them both, Abelas paused only long enough to nod farewell before turning to leave. And Solas, though he lingered to examine the translucent barrier between them, eventually found his curiosity leading him deeper within.
It was as if he were stepping into the hall of the first time. Gone were the sturdy wood and stone arches of Skyhold, replaced instead by the soaring heights made possible only by crystal and magic. Stepping further into its embrace he followed the winding flagstones past pools of silver throated lilies and perfumed branches of white blossoms.
The space was one of serenity, peace, and refined beauty. And yet none of it could mask the sense of loss that he felt with each step forward.
Cunningly hewn though the sculptures were, they could not replace the mark of the woman who had once lent her own talents to decorating this hall. And though he had not seen or heard from Lavellan since leaving he could not forget woman he loved nor would he allow her fate to go undiscovered.
Turning a final bend around a smoke colored willow, Solas found himself confronted with the very woman who had taken dared usurped her crown and stolen her throne.
Waist deep in a pool of scarlet, she did not seem to notice him when he arrived, and yet the shock of such a violent shade lapping at her figure made Solas wonder if she might be bathing in blood.
But as she ascended the steps at the far end of the pool, the color fell away, clinging to the blood lotuses that yet remained within its watery depth. And the white of her gown shone so pure that it looked nearly silver in the moonlight that streamed through those crystal walls.
Humming as she moved, her soft melody seemed to drift just above the surface of the water, as slow and soothing as a lullaby.
The air of the hall seemed to reflect her tranquility, and he watched, waited as she tended the plants at the edge of her watery gardens. She was dressed like a goddess of the water, he could not deny that. Dripping in gems that reflected those countless cascading steams, she seemed as much part of the water as mistress of it.
But the truth of her appearance was a mystery. Back turned as it was, there was nothing to give her away, and even the glimmer of her veil hid the color of her hair from his gaze.
When she finally turned, however, faced him and opened her eyes, he found the breath frozen in his lungs.
The delicate features, the soft flesh of her mouth, he knew them all, recognized them. And it seemed almost too much when she slowly drew the shimmering cowl from her hair for he already knew the color it would be.
"Hello, Dread Wolf."
Her voice caressed him like a lover's touch, as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.
But the surprise threatened to rend him in half like a violent slash of a sword.
"Lavellan?"