So, who's excited for Veilguard? I'm listening to "Lost Elf Theme" on repeat, but to be fair, that's the best background music for writing Solavellan.

I was re-reading Tevinter Nights on my holidays a few weeks ago, and had a desire to write my own short story that matched the vibes. Even if it isn't a long story, I did break it up into chapters because it was the best narrative fit. It follows Ennaly Lavellan from Out of Tune, but it is written as a story that stands on itself. This story ignited in my brain when I edited the chapters and remembered the line "I don't need a hero", sparking the title and theme of this story.

Just as Tevinter Nights has a few "darker" stories, this one is definitely darker than the tone of Out of Tune and involves more violence and emotional torment. But do read the tags, there is a comfort and a bittersweet ending in here! The first chapter sets a background and kind of is its own little contained story, while the other four chapters flesh out the rest.

I'd love to know your thoughts!

Desire

Ennaly smiled and revelled in the sensation of the late spring breeze playing with her curls. It ran through the valley, rolling like waves through the wildflowers. The sound of it rusting through the willow branches behind her was calming, but the best sound wasn't one produced by nature, not even the clattering of the stream beside her.

The best sound was the laughter of her daughter, playing a few yards away with her father.

Solas laughed and encouraged their little girl to continue her spell. Ennaly smiled, before returning to her embroidery. Next to her, their son wheezed a little in his sleep. He was still so small at three months old, but he was already growing so fast.

She looked up again as the girl's laughter drew nearer. She had her hands raised, and between them hovered a single, purple flower. She recognised it as the flower that Solas had conjured for her multiple times, though she had never seen it grown in nature.

"You are doing so well," Solas encouraged, a few feet behind her.

"For you, mamae," the girl said as she let the flower float towards Ennaly.

Ennaly laughed, set aside her embroidery, and held out her hand, accepting the flower as it touched her fingers.

"Thank you, da'lath," she said as she brought the flower to her nose to smell.

The little girl snorted. "It isn't from me," she stated. "Papae asked me to give it to you." She giggled. "He hoped you would give him a kiss in return."

Ennaly glanced up at Solas. He was wearing a simple open-necked shirt, the dark jawbone amulet visible against his bare chest. His smile was enchanting, honest, and tender, but with that touch of mischief she had loved so much.

"Did he, now?" Ennaly teased as she raised to her feet.

Solas was three feet away from her. His cheeks were flushed from exercise, and she could count the freckles on his nose. But his eyes... Silver, with purple specs in them. Purple, like her own eyes, like her Vallaslin once was, like the flower in her hand.

She glanced down. The flower had changed and she was no longer holding a single bloom. Instead, it had transformed into rows of small hoods along a single stem, still in the same purple-blue colour.

Wolfsbane.

Curious, she looked up to Solas again.

"Vhenan," he said, his voice like music to her ears. He lifted his arms, inviting her for an embrace.

She took a step closer, but not close enough to touch. Oh, she wanted to, to lift her fingers and trace them along his jaw, or run her thumb across his lips. To feel the warmth of his body pressed against her. But she knew she shouldn't.

"Mamae," the little girl urged. "Won't you give papae his kiss?"

Ennaly looked down. The girl inherited her eyes and Solas' auburn hair. She was everything that dreams could be made of, perfect to the little freckle at the tip of her nose. Too perfect. But as she glanced back at Solas, she realised that he wasn't.

Something was missing. His eyes might be the exact colour she remembered, but his expression was not. No matter if he kissed her, consoled her, or encouraged her, a whisper of sorrow had always lingered in them. And it was curiously absent from his current gaze.

Unsettled, she averted her eyes. Their son was sleeping in his basket, covered by a blanket she had embroidered. The pattern was of purple flowers, but had she really made it? She wasn't bad at embroidery, but she wasn't skilled enough for something as intricate as this, like her own mother was. And her mother died years ago.

"Wolfbane."

The voice appeared bodyless, but she paid it no heed.

"Vhenan," Solas said again. "Won't you give me a kiss?"

As she looked back again, she realised there was more wrong than just his eyes. Solas never moved like that, jagged instead of graceful, and his eyes had never contorted with anger towards her.

"I want a kiss, vhenan." It was said demanding, cold.

And he had never been forceful. This wasn't her desire. How could it think that it was?

"Wolfbane."

There was that voice again. She thought she recognised it, but she couldn't put a name to it.

Movement to her right caught her eye. There, on the other side of the stream, was a wolf larger than any natural wolf. Its pelt was pure white, and its eyes... They carried the sorrow that was absent in the demon's eyes.

"Kiss me, vhenan."

Ennaly spun around, just in time to avoid the demon's touch. Effortless, she summoned lightning to her call, and felt it building in her core and spreading through her arms to her fingertips. She held it there, buzzing with anticipation, and glanced one final time at her daughter and son. They were too perfect, too precious, but also brought forth by lies. And she didn't want to live in a lie.

Nothing felt better than the release of magic against a justified foe. It took her no effort to release the charge, to send the sparks to the demon. It shrieked from Solas' mouth before the form dissolved, their children fading into mist. The demon stood in its own androgynous shape, alluring and ruthlessly graceful, and hissed a final time before it turned around and fled.

This desire demon wasn't even successful in creating a realistic scenario. She had encountered better ones that could maintain the façade longer. The previous one had conjured a different scenario, Solas standing in a field of flowers, an Elvhen building behind him, dressed in white iridescent brocade.

"Let me show you," it had purred. "We can dance were I used to dance, vhenan. You are so beautiful."

It had dressed her in gossamer silks that shimmered in her movement, encrusted with gems and jewels shining in colours she didn't know the names of.

Ennaly always knew they were demons, no matter how good of an imitation they could conjure. It angered her to keep being targeted, to be confronted with these images at regular intervals. Even if she always saw through the lies, it hurt.

Every time.

At the snap of a twig, she looked up. The white wolf turned around to leave. She was safe now, after all, no longer in danger of being tempted by a fantasy. She didn't always see him, but she could feel his presence whenever she was confronted by demons. He was making sure she was safe, she thought.

And yet he never said anything. It was almost as painful as being targeted by Desire. Pain, anger, frustration, disappointment, hurt... It was all so close together, interwoven that sometimes she mistook one for the other.

"I don't need a hero," she yelled at the wolf's back as she fought back a tear.

The beast paused. Just a second, but he paused. And before she could see if he would face her, she heard the voice again.

"Wolfsbane."

Ennaly spun around, half-expecting to see another demon, but the voice didn't come from the Fade. It came from beyond, where her physical body lay sleeping. Someone was trying to wake her. Gasping for air, she bolted upright, lightning instinctively crackling at her fingertips. Her eyes met Varric's unimpressed gaze before she could release the spell.

She needed a full five seconds to realise that she was in a guest bedroom of his Kirkwall estate.

"You certainly sleep deep, lately," he remarked. "Took me ages to wake you. Dreams, again?"

Guiltily, Ennaly averted her eyes. "Yeah," she muttered, knowing that denying it would be useless.

"About him?"

She didn't have to ask which him he meant. Defeated, she met his gaze again. "About a demon pretending to be him," she confessed.

Varric made a sound between a snort and a shiver. "You mages really scare me sometimes, you know?"

Shrugging, she threw her legs over the edge of the bed. "Don't worry, I always know it's just a demon. I know the real him..." She sighed, leaving the sentence unfinished. What was she going to say, anyway? The real Solas didn't visit her dreams anymore? The real Solas wouldn't ever hold out his hand for her? The real Solas and her would never live together in this idyllic family life?

She couldn't say that. The first, because he still visited her, and the second, because that was the last piece of hope she had to go on, to know their mission had a chance of success. And the third one, well... That truth was just too painful to admit, especially since Desire kept tempting her.

She shouldn't have yelled at the wolf. She had vowed to herself that she would make him see his redemption, that she would show him that there was enough left worth to let live. Frustration and anger only served to undo all progress she had made.

Varric's eyes softened with compassion as he handed her a bracelet. "Wolfsbane..." he started softly.

"You know, I'm not sure about that nickname," she interrupted, annoyed by herself and confused by her emotions. "I don't want to bane Solas."

A smile spread on Varric's face, but it was a little mirthless. "I know," he remarked calmly. "That's exactly why I call you Wolfsbane, and not Solasbane. You said that he said that he was Solas before he was the Dread Wolf, and isn't that our intention? Bane the wolf so Solas returns again?"

Surprised, she glanced at him. Yeah, she supposed. That was exactly what they were doing. A little apologetic, she took the bracelet. She had a long road ahead of her before she reached Minrathous, and she'd rather start sooner than later.

The bracelet was a thing of beauty, made of golden swirls surrounding ironwood beads. Ennaly's mother had carved them, years ago when clan Lavellan was still alive. There were nine beads in total, each depicting one of the nine Gods of the Elven Pantheon. Life had been easier then, when she didn't yet know the truth. When the real Solas still called her to his arms and kissed her.

Shaking the memory away, she placed it on her left arm, that ended at her elbow. She didn't usually like other people seeing it, but Varric was comfortable and familiar and one of the exceptions. Focussing on the latent power within her, she channelled magic through the beads. By now it hardly took her effort. The wooden beads glowed, and tendrils erupted from them, snaking down and forming into an ironwood replica of her missing arm.

It was a thing of beauty, but it was more than that. Life was a lot easier with two hands.

"Do you still think it is possible?" Varric asked conversationally as he paused by the door.

Ennaly didn't have to ask what he meant. He was asking her if it was still possible to redeem Solas, to save him from himself. What did she believe, deep in her heart? They had gone through so much together. She had seen him at his best and his worst time, calm and vulnerable and intelligent and angry and mischievous and passionate.

"Yes," she replied, caught off guard by her own certainty. Hope was all she had left.

Varric gave a reassuring smile. "You know I have a habit of picking up lost causes, but it's good to know this one isn't entirely doomed yet."

"I'm not saying it will be easy, or quick, or painless," she added, feeling like she might as well be honest.

Varric's smile grew a bit more bittersweet. "Nothing worthwhile ever is. Not for us, anyway."