#Howling Fen'Harel statue

[lairofdragonagelore]

Somewhere in the Crossroads

This post has compiled the most relevant information during the main quest for completion’s sake. These quests have little “archaeological” value, but since I’m visually covering the majority of the game, I can’t put them aside.

The last minute of the game, after the end of the credits.

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

Somewhere, probably in a space of the Crossroads, we see Flemeth in front of a mirror. This scene is extremely mysterious because we can't be sure of what she is doing with the eluvian.

This could be a piece of herself being placed in the mirror so she can awake eventually in similar fashion as she did with the necklace in DA2. This is an option that, no matter your choices in game, is always possible.

This could also mean that she is placing Urthemiel in the mirror to save them from being consumed by Solas. She knows that with the destruction of the orb, Solas only has a way to find the power he needs: hers. But this option would make no sense in a game where the player did not save Urthemiel, so this possibility is immediately discarded.

If we read the description of the Dev's notes in the game files [all the game files I'm working with belong to Corseque's works since I don't know how to extract these things] we realise that Flemeth always knew the development of this series of events. She knows that Solas needs her powers, and she won't resist it, but she wants to "pass the essence of her godhood onto Morrigan". Now, there is some chance that the bit of energy she is placing into the mirror is "this essence of godhood". Lore-wise, it seems a bit confusing to me, since I understood that the essence of Godhood in Flemeth is Mythal herself, no? So, she is placing a bit of Mythal for Morrigan to accept eventually? Or this essence is more related to what the elvhen extracted from the Titans?

From the small bits that follow in the scene, we obtain some confirmations:

This seems to be the Crossroads, since we see Elven Tree Statues in the background.

Flemeth recognises that the orb belonged to Fen'Harel [”your orb”], despite its game file name [Mythal_orb]. It seems that originally was meant to be her orb, probably lent to Solas, but that was changed to make it his orb.

Combining it with information that Solas gave us in the Frostback Mountains: Attack to Haven, we know this orb accumulated his energy while he was in his slumber.

So, this orb increased in energy as Solas stayed in his slumber. While, according to the game files, Flemeth’s had a small bit of Mythal that she nurtured through the ages. It seems to imply that both powers are equivalent, so I’m inclined to suspect a bit more that the orbs are related to the power of godhood, and Solas has it in the shape of an orb because he never made it part of himself [according to his mosaics in the Elven mountain Ruins], while Mythal had this power inside her. 

Flemeth cultivated the power of Mythal because she knew Solas will need that power, eventually. 

He calls it slumber, not Uthenera [I personally think that the game series hints us that the Uthenera is a more messed-up and horrifying process than mere slumber. But I need to work in a long post about Uthenera.]

After his slumber of thousands of years, he was too weak to unlock the orb, so he tried to use Corypheus and kill him in the process. It clearly failed.

He would prefer to pay for his mistake, but he seems to have a unique role or power to make his People return. Would this imply that he is the only one able to destroy the Veil and join the Waking World with the Fade again?

We get the confirmation that Mythal and Fen'Harel were old friends, as all the ruins we visited along the game seemed to suggest.

A moment before consuming Flemeth, we see a very particular effect. I'm not so sure if it can be understood as the following, but it seems to visually suggest what we have been suspecting for a while: Solas [like all the elvhenan] has been a spirit [or better said, an entity of the like] bound to a shape. This similar effect has been seen in Hakkon, when the spirit shape overlapped the dragon's head in a teal-greenish-like colour. Now, we also know that Solas has been this way since the time of the Evanuris [his own words at the end of Tespasser], so, if this interpretation is correct, he has been bound to shape even before the creation of the Veil.

UPDATE Jan 2023: Mrs-guache has added an extra relevant detail and a gif in a different angle in their post [here]. 

Checking the game files, Mrs-guache found that Solas’ effect on his head is called “fadewisp head”, the same one used for the orange wraiths we find in-game.

The place where both are met is an elvhen ruin. Unlike anything else we saw before, this eluvian is protected by both of them, one at each side of the mirror. The size of the eluvian is immense too.

When Solas consumes Flemeth, her face looks like turned into stone? There is some greyness to her face that ends up covering her completely. I don't think we saw this effect before in any other moment of the game. It’s not exactly petrify. She is like turned into “ashes” [it’s not stone, but it’s certainly extremely grey]. It's also curious that this power is similar to what we see that Solas uses against the Qunari in Tresspasser: they turn into stone with just a flash of his eyes.

Symbolically speaking, it is also curious that entities of fluidity like the elvhen could manage a power so related to the stone, the titans, and therefore, the reinforcement of reality. Maybe in this detail there is a hint about why the Evanuris godhood [aka, power] seems to be related to titans. But there is no hard evidence on this, and it’s a topic for another post anyway.

The following scene is Solas’s face, with all the power he needs for his goal. His eyes glow in a cold blue, and he is surrounded by a dark smoke effect.

These were effects we saw in Flemeth when trying to control the person who drank from the Well,

as well as in Abelas, when he tried to destroy the Well of Sorrow.

I can’t stop thinking that, taking into consideration the decade of time difference and the engine, it’s a similar effect to the DAO Archdemon, just in a more blueish hue. It’s also described as such in the book Last Flight. I’m not saying they are the same, but there may be a connection. It always surprised me that these powerful elves had such an ominous and “dark” effect associated with their magic.

An interesting gem that Corseque showed in her post, is that it seems that Morrigan was meant to witness this last scene when Solas consumes Flemeth, but it was removed from the game. I personally think it doesn’t change much. Morrigan seems to be able to use some eluvians, so it makes sense that she may have ended in this place. Probably, originally, it was going to be a situation that would justify the moment when she acquired her godhood, but it seems she will do it eventually when she finds out this eluvian where Flemeth placed that godhood essence.

Update 2023: Gaider shared in a twitter a flux diagram where we see part of the cut content of this scene

In particular, the important section is this one:

Solas seems to drain Flemeth but not killing her, it’s the drinker of the Well of Sorrow who does it, probably removing the effect of the Whispers, free of any bound related to Mythal’s essence [the Well of Sorrow has a bit of her essence to work]. This is cut content and I’m not fan to explore this too deep because we don’t truly know to what point this may still apply into the story. What seems interesting in this cut content is that this is the last command that Mythal tells to the Inquisitor when she implied that there was a still a command she wanted to from them, it’was not the right moment yet. 

In any case, this was Solas’ intention since the moment the orb broke, that’s probably why he looks so heartbroken in the scene wher he picks the pieces of the orb: he knows he has to kill Flemeth, and potentially, transform himself in the process. He tried to work his feeling through the mural we find in Skyhold, but he could not manage to finish it. The dragon is dead, and the wolf acquires a dragony-shape. This  emotion is so deep and strong, than in Tevinter Night, we learn that he ended up feeding a demon with similar shape: a black wolf of dragony style called Regret. 

The story was well known—the Elder One, the false god Corypheus, had torn a hole in the sky to steal power from the heavens. He couldn’t be killed until his blighted dragon was dead, and the Herald, the Inquisitor, had somehow countered with a dragon of their own. And there was a dragon on the panel, with an Inquisition blade in its neck. But according to the story, both creatures had fallen first, leaving the final victory to the Inquisitor.

But here, unfinished, was the outline of a beast that stood over both dragon and sword. This was not the battle, or the victory. This was after. And the beast was not a dragon. The outline alone might have allowed that assumption, but now, filling with black and red, it was something other. The creature was reptilian, but also canine. The snout was blunted and toothy, but edges came to a point in houndlike ears. As the mass of plaster filled the shape, it began to rise, revealing scales and tail, and paws with talons. It looked like two figures painted on either side of a pane of glass, then viewed together, their forms confused. A wolf that had absorbed a dragon, and now stood crooked over all.

[...] The beast regarded him in silence, looming, and then its plaster lips spread into a smile far too quickly. “I am the heart of what was here.” As it spoke, it raised an arm—one of three—and pointed at the fresco panels in order. “An echo that has breached the Fade.” The creature’s arm finished its path at Sutherland’s friends. “And I can still the bravest blade or magic.”The limb folded into the creature’s layers, each movement adding to the rasping sound. It rose to its full height, as high as the panels would’ve allowed, and bellowed its name so loud that dust fell from the walls.“I am Regret!”

[...] “I am the regret of a god, you—!”

--Callback, Tevinter Nights.

#flemeth #solas #Howling Fen'Harel statue #Dragon Mythal statue #eluvian #main quest #elven tree statue

[ellie-shy]

Details I've found interesting after replaying DA:Inquisition #3

This is during What Pride Had Wrought, inside the Temple of Mythal.

If you chose to do the ritual, remember those 3 puzzles you have to do before proceeding? (I'm counting after we encountered Samson/Calpernia in the temple.)

They were called rituals to respect the temple (and Mythal in general ofc), and Abelas actually appreciates the Inquisitor for doing the rituals.

So, this time around, I actually took my time to appreciate the beautiful sceneries inside the temple. And I kinda observed something interesting when doing those rituals...

The rituals are sort of related to specific Evanuris Gods. Hint : THE STATUES.

This is gonna be a long post with basic speculations, please bare with me and my tinfoil-y thoughts lmao i just had to get these out.

This is the 1st ritual, and also the easiest and straightforward one :

Notice the statues among the tiles? I am not entirely sure of which Evanuris is related to this statue. Could it be Andruil (Goddess of the Hunt)? Please correct me if I'm wrong! Or could it be just a general Elven statue for the Elven race?

I don't have much comment on this one because I am unsure of which Evanuris is connected to this statue. However, take note of the straightforward and simplicity of the ritual.

The 2nd ritual, which is found at the upper level of the 1st ritual :

A big set of tiles that are separated. To complete the ritual, you have to connect them together! However, instead of just 1 statue, there are 2, an owl and a halla!

We first enter from the owl statues. If not mistaken, Owl is Falon'Din. But it can also symbolize Andruil (as her messnger).

And the second batch of tiles has halla statues, obviously for Ghilan'nain (mother of halla) :

(Notice that the entrance for Ghilan'nain has been crushed? Then in that case, could it actually be 2 separate rituals instead of 1 connected ritual?)

Here's the tinfoil-y part, 1) IF the owl statue is meant for Falon'Din, I think it would make sense that this big ritual is actually 2 separated rituals (for Falon'Din and Ghilan'nain each); and due to the inaccessible Ghilan'nain's ritual entrance, hence the Inquisitor has to connect both rituals to complete them.

Or, 2) IF the owl statue is for Andruil instead, it would make PERFECT sense if the rituals are meant to be connected. "Ghilan'nain was Andruil's beloved". Ghilan'nain and Falon'Din don't have that much stories together compared to Andruil, which explicitly states that they were lovers. And, if the rituals are meant to be connected, could it be that the crushed entrance to Ghilan'nain's ritual is like an exit? (What I'm saying is that we enter from the owl, then exit with the halla, or vice versa, something like that lol)

So, the 2nd ritual may be for Andruil/Falon'Din and Ghilan'nain.

And last but not least, the final puzzle. Which is also the hardest/confusing one for me lol.

Guess which elven statue greeted you?

The Dread Wolf. A whole ritual is just for Fen'Harel. And it's huge and complicated!

Other than the fact there are 2 types of Fen'Harel statues (the sitting wolf and the howling wolf), there are no other Evanuris rituals in the same ritual hall! (The first 2 rituals are located in the same hall, let me remind y'all! It is situated side by side, one located on the lower level, and the other at the upper level.)

This ritual hall is solely for Fen'Harel ONLY. I don't know about you guys, but... to have your own ritual hall, inside the temple of a goddess, and visitors have to DO your ritual, before entering the heart of the temple... speaks volumes to me. Generally speaking, Fen'Harel is indeed an old friend of Mythal.

Not only that, when I was doing this ritual, personally, I can sense why it's The Dread Wolf's ritual. It is full of trickery, wit and cleverness. If you don't plan out your steps well, one wrong move, you have to start again. (you have to know which tile to stop so you could pull the lever dammit lol). I headcanon that Solas silently chuckled if we misstep the tiles of his ritual, that bastard.

You can also find the mosaic of Fen'Harel at the entrance of the ritual, looking over the ritual area (Well, Solas was in the team too so, May the Dread Wolf guide you? lmao).

So these are the thoughts I have after replaying this quest, and taking my time to observe every detail in the area. I find it rather weird, if we're in the Temple of MYTHAL, why's there other Evanuris statues in the area, followed by the complicated rituals?

Oh, I also found some cheese wheels hiding in the dark :

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #dragon age meta #mythal #the dread wolf #my post #my dai replay #longgg post for longgg thoughts lol #idk you guys but i think the rituals meant something #they're not just there just for the sake entering the temple #mythal is the mother anyways #and boy mythal really loves solas

[crackinglamb]

Chapters: 19/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan Characters: Felassan (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Female Hawke (Dragon Age), Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan, Misyl - OC, Abelas (Dragon Age), Ivuna - Elvhen OC, Dorian Pavus, The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Bethany Hawke Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Modern Girl in Thedas, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, and unrelated to that, Mild Kink, negotiated boundaries, Solas Is a Gentle Dom, You can't change my mind, References to Tevinter Nights, Plot Bunnies - Freeform, Mild Angst, Headcannon Glitter, Self-Indulgent, Unrepentant Fluff, The Dad Wolf Rises, This Is My Love Letter to Carly and Solas, Background Relationships, Male-Female Friendship, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Additional Characters to Be Added As They Show Up Series: Part 5 of Til It Squeaks: A Modern Girl's Take on Thedas Summary:

The Breach is sealed. The Qunari invasion of the South was stopped in its tracks. Solas didn't leave. Carly didn't either. Negotiations for the return of the Dales went about as well as expected. The Veil is...in progress.

And is that a cradle?

A sequel to Twist.

NSFW will be marked with **. Beta'd by Iron_Angel. Updates on Tuesday.

Chapter 19 - The Rebel’s Forest

The Eluvian let them out into a thickly wooded area.  Looking back at the frame of the portal, Carly snickered to herself.  It was very...Narnian. The Eluvian stood alone, bracketed by a pair of howling wolf statues and nothing else.  Just a mirror in the middle of a clearing.  If she wasn't so used to the transportation, she would have found it ominous.  Instead, she looked towards their destination and burst into delighted laughter.

“Oh my god, Solas, you absolute liar!”

He raised his eyebrows at her and looked confused.

She should have guessed, really.  She knew the name translated to Rebel's Forest. She thought perhaps he had a fortress like Skyhold nestled here, or something more hidden like the ruins of the Temple of Mythal.  It was neither.  It was a city.

A city built into the trees.

#Lamb writes #dragon age inquisition #solavellan #solas x lavellan #twist fic tuesday #twist some more

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Fic Back Friday

I’ve been tagged by @noire-pandora! Thank you! It’s a bit late but I’m still doing the thing!

Take an older fic (or art for our artist friends) from about a year ago or older even and talk about it, show it off and hype it up. 

So uh. I have way more fics written from a few years ago than I do within just the last year. I’ve really become more productive and public with my writing just within the last oh I dunno six months? Most of what I have on Ao3 is a collection of what was left of the last eight years? I think. It was hard to pick what to post. But I decided to go with the first thing I ever put up here on Tumblr. Which ... for some reason, it isn’t pulling up the actual link. It’s just pulling a reblog I had. Guess.... I’ll just... post the whole thing? 

Just A Dream

-dragonswithjetpacks

Notes: So this is some of the first writing I ever did for Aeva. It’s about a dream she had after Trespasser.

A Walk Through the Forrest

The land is green. The trees are not wanting. They reach to the sky. Their branches show blossoms. Their trunks are wide. She wanders among them. Her hands are stretched across. She has never witnessed such greenery. Flower petals touch her fingertips. Stems graze her palms. The sunlight skims her wrists. The songs of birds and the chatter of fennecs echo through the trees.

Everything Falls Silent

But then all falls still. Her footsteps cease. The air grows thin. The temperature falls. There is a sudden breeze. It brings grey clouds and a stench she is familiar with. The word leaves her and she cannot remember precisely the thought she seeks. Trying to grasp it, she ventures forward, hoping the smell will trigger a memory. It does. And the image becomes clearer. An image of tooth and claw. An image of blood. An image of thick fur and a haunting voice.

The Wolves are Stray

The Wolves. She will not fall back. Not now. They know she is present and they will turn on her. Their fur is not black like the ones back home. They are white. They are white and stained with blood. One lifts his giant head and his yellow eyes pierce straight through hers. The wolf licks his lips before lowering his head. She cannot look any longer. The pool of blood rippling beneath them made her stomach churn. The sound of their teeth gnashing against the innards made her head ache. A sudden crunch sounded as a wolf shook his head and a leg detached from the body. A gasp escaped her lips. And the wolves all lifted their gaze.

Feeding on the Innocent

She saw beneath them was once a creature of light grey fur. It would have been unrecognizable if it were not for the horns. The wolves were feeding on a halla. Terror took over as her body turned cold. The hair on her skin rose, but her wits became about her. And she remembered where she was. The wolves would not venture into the forest for a halla. They remain in the plain where the larger heards are known to graze. For a pack of this number to take down a large, stronger member of a heard would mean the wolves would have to be cunning. They would have to be...

Their Leader Rises

Their leader steps forward. But their leader is no animal. The alpha rises on two legs. And his face is familiar. Breathing becomes more difficult as she watched his shoulders flex. Her fists clench tightly, digging into the palms of her hands. He is dressed in white clothing, embroidered in gold. His brow is stern, just as before. But his eyes are cold. And his lips...

A Mouth Full of Blood

His lips are covered in blood. The pack proceeds to ignore her, resuming their meal without the lack of crunching as they enjoyed their fast. But he... he gazes at her. He watches for her reaction. Though there was none, she still felt him pry. He lifts his hand to his jaw and guides down the line until he reaches his mouth. He uses his hand to wipe blood. But he only smears it.

A Smile Filled with Pride

And then he smiles. He smiles so wickedly, so perversely, she let's out a horrifying. Not of fear, but of anger. Only the beginnings of it make it out of her mouth. She feels she can hear it. But the only thing she truly feels is the darkness surrounding her as she falls through the earth. And the only she sees is hid red smile with an echo of a howl in the distance.

She is Bathed in Regret

Falling back into a tangent place, she finds herself in a bath. Without truly knowing what has awakened her from her dream state, she grasps the edge to pull herself free. But she cannot. The water she was soaked in felt thick. It felt warm. It felt wrong. An awareness enlightens her senses, and as he vision clears, she can see that blood surrounds her. Recalling the scene from before, she swallows the start of a scream.

Surrounded by Emptiness

Then they appeared. Men and women of the Inquisition come drifting from the shadows to her side. They are all dressed in uniform, or else she would not even know who they were. Some she knows by name... but these followers... have no face. She cries out, but like before, only the first bit escapes. They reach to their sides and bring up a wooden buckets with a jingle inside. The buckets are emptied into her tub. And golden coins fall onto her body.  

The Weight of Gold

The blood rocks back and forth, spilling onto the floor. She can taste it in her mouth. Feel it burning her eyes. The weight is crushing. She can feel her spine pressing into the bottom of the porcelain tub. She scratches at the side, but to no avail. The treasury will drown her. And her comrades will watch. Thrashing about, she hopes to shake loose. But the relief of pressure does not come from above. It comes below.

A Sound of Resolution

The tub cracks, pulling her through to wherever she must go next. The gold disappears and for a moment, her body is weightless. And then it is cold. So terribly cold. The darkness brightens, but the light is so bright. Her eyes sting from the sudden burst and her body falls almost numb. She gathers her courage to rise from the broken tub. There is no blood but once again, there is the color of white. The color of snow.

An Answer on the Horizon

As her eyes adjust, she can make out something in the distance. It is grey, only slightly darker than the landscape. She moves towards it, the only thing she has to fixate her eyes upon. The only destination. As she draws closer, she knows the shape. The shape of a wolf. But this is a sight she has already seen. Tears fill her eyes. Should she be frightened? Because this is not what she felt. Only sadness. Only anger. Only the realization. Fen'Harel was watching.

The Shrine of Fen'Harel

Ruins suddenly began to appear around her. She does not recognize them. Or this feeling they gave. Emotions suddenly faded as she held her breath. They were replaced a desire. A need. She did not worry that the Betrayer would take her. No... she begged. She prayed silently because she could not speak. She prayed as she reached out with her bare hand. She prayed as she felt her fingertips graze across the wolf's mouth.

The Dread Wolf Howls

Hearing her lament, his eyes burst open. Not only the two, but several more across his twisted face, all burning with red flame. They all turned down to her, witnessing the elf for what she truly was. They judged her. Knew her crimes. Knew her to the very core. She fell to her knees, her body tensing with guilt and rage. This was her fault.

She Feels His Hands of Mercy

There is a sudden warmth across her chest. Two hands creep up to the tops of her shoulders. They pull her hard, into something solid. Something warm. It took away the fear. The cold. The hatred. It brought the comfort. Forgiveness. And she could smell something that she knew very well. It was sweet, but strange. Like an incense in a shop she had browsed in long ago. It was ancient. But it was new, like a parchment unrolled for the first time. It was Solas.

Of Love and Comfort

The statue disappeared, leaving a black abyss surrounding them. She pushed back, shoving him away. He did not belong. He was no help to her. She wanted to tell him, to shout. But there was nothing that would come from her lips. The look on his face told her that he was aware of how she felt. But it wasn't enough. She screamed. And though she couldn't hear it, she could feel the depths of her soul flaming in her belly as she let out a silent roar.

Ma Vhenan ...

But his words were clear. They were so sharp in her ear that she swore she heard them on the edge of the bed. She shot up, the sensation of his breath on her earlobe bringing her heart to an alarming rate. There was no one there. There was only the light of the stars and the moon. The sound of the breeze nestling up to the slightly cracked window in the far end of the room. But there was taste of blood in her mouth from where she bit her lip in her sleep. She wondered who exactly had visited her that night...

#solavellan #dragon age inquisition #trespasser #solas #inquisitor lavellan #aeva x solas #solas x lavellan #fen'harel

[mrstethras]

The Forgotten Ones were some of the Rebel Elvhen [theory]

There is very little known about The Forgotten Ones, referenced in so few of the codex entries throughout Dragon Age, however, from what is offered to us, I believe them to be Elvhen who opposed the tyranny of the Evanuris, likely freed from their enslavement by Solas, and since raged and warred against them. They were perhaps the favoured slaves, the most talented of them, to have been considered as gods as well upon facing against their enemies. This is just a theory that I’ve been playing around with, a post of rambling, but I figured I’d share my thoughts on what little we have of them.

“The Forgotten Ones belong to the ancient Elven pantheon, but their names were lost after the Great Betrayal. Their worship continued in the shadows, despite efforts to stamp it out in the old Dalish kingdom. This staff belonged to a priest of those gods, specifically Daern'thal.” - Codex attached to the Weapon Pyre of the Forgotten.

“The legend says that before the fall of Arlathan, the gods we know and revere fought an endless war with others of their kind. There is not a hahren among us who remembers these others: Only in dreams do we hear whispered the names of Geldauran and Daern'thal and Anaris, for they are the Forgotten Ones, the gods of terror and malice, spite and pestilence. In ancient times, only Fen'Harel could walk without fear among both our gods and the Forgotten Ones, for although he is kin to the gods of the People, the Forgotten Ones knew of his cunning ways, and saw him as one of their own.” - Codex: Fen'Harel: The Dread Wolf

So, the Forgotten Ones were of Elvhen kind, if this codex entry is to be believed, that they were the ones who resisted the enslavement of the People? Some were likely freed and joined the cause? Their names, or what they represent also seems important, because unlike the Evanuris, they are named rather abstractly as representing feelings, emotions or other such general (often negative) terms, such as pestilence. In the same way that Abelas means sorrow, I feel their names were adopted dependant on their ruling pantheon, or what they represented. That these were people, rather than abstract ideas. This is similar to how the Protheans were named in Mass Effect, when we meet the last living Prothean Javik, and wake him up to find he embodies or is named for vengeance.

“There is precious little we know about Fen'Harel, for they say he did not care for our people. Elgar'nan and Mythal created the world as we know it, Andruil taught us the Ways of the Hunter, Sylaise and June gave us fire and crafting, but Fen'Harel kept to himself and plotted the betrayal of all the gods. And after the destruction of Arlathan, when the gods could no longer hear our prayers, it is said that Fen'Harel spent centuries in a far corner of the earth, giggling madly and hugging himself in glee.In ancient times, only Fen'Harel could walk without fear among both our gods and the Forgotten Ones, for although he is kin to the gods of the People, the Forgotten Ones knew of his cunning ways and saw him as one of their own. And that is how Fen'Harel tricked them. Our gods saw him as a brother, and they trusted him when he said that they must keep to the heavens while he arranged a truce. And the Forgotten Ones trusted him also when he said he would arrange for the defeat of our gods, if only the Forgotten Ones would return to the abyss for a time. They trusted Fen'Harel, and they were all of them betrayed. And Fen’Harel sealed them away so they could never again walk among the People.” —From Codex entry: Fen'Harel: The Dread Wolf 

It’s also very clear that the Forgotten Ones have been smeared throughout history to appear as negatively as possible. Quite like how Fen’Harel has been misunderstood as a malevolent god, rather than the god of rebellion, which is far more accurate an interpretation. In the above codex entry it makes the Forgotten Ones and Fen’Harel appear as the villains, whereas post-Trespasser we know this is not the case -- and so the situation can be turned on it’s head in that the Forgotten Ones were not the wicked anti-pantheon, but warring against and resisting their wicked gods, the Evanuris. It’s also important to note that from the codex entries, Fen’Harel tricked only the Evanuris, and got the Forgotten Ones to return to the abyss (likely for protection) as he defeated the gods -- which was what the Forgotten Ones desired. It’s also likely Solas chose to do this only after the murder of Mythal.

As for the abyss -- and where the Forgotten Ones are -- I feel as though they are in Uthenera, likely returned to the mines within Titans. In Trespasser we see that ancient mines are discovered to have protecting statues of both Mythal and Fen’Harel guarding. We know that Mythal was the most motherly towards the People -- compared to the likes of Andruil and Falon’Din, and their statues and iconography surrounding these locations was not only completely unexpected and out-of-place, but as though those mines had been re-purposed for protection or safety for the People. The undiscovered location within the Titan in The Descent DLC is known as the Uncharted Abyss.

Quick note on the Abyss: “Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.

From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.

Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.

In my arms lies Eternity”.—Canticle of Andraste, 14:11 This fragment is where Andraste goes to speak to the Maker for the first time and convinces him to forgive mankind. It describes a beautiful temple deep under the earth surrounded by emerald waters. In which we find a sea called The Buried Sea within the Titan in The Descent. Though I feel like the Forgotten Ones aren’t in that particular Titan, they may be in a fallen Titan hidden away and in Uthenera, a death sleep within the mines Solas asked them to briefly return to. Which is also similar to how the Protheans in Mass Effect were stored, only in cryo stasis. I do feel as though Solas did not intend to leave them this way, but his battle with the gods left him unable to return to them once it was done. What with the Veil stripping the realm of its natural state and all of its magic. We also know that the Evanuris did not like to linger within the Titans. Andruil, for example, would hunt (likely dwarves and creatures) within the Titans, and also the Forgotten Ones, but returned more and more lyrium addled. “One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking The Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss. Yet even a god should not linger there, and each time she entered the Void, Andruil suffered longer and longer periods of madness after returning. Andruil put on armor made of the Void, and all forgot her true face. She made weapons of darkness, and plague ate her lands. She howled things meant to be forgotten, and the other gods became fearful Andruil would hunt them in turn. So Mythal spread rumors of a monstrous creature and took the form of a great serpent, waiting for Andruil at the base of a mountain. When Andruil came, Mythal sprang on the hunter. They fought for three day and nights, Andruil slashing deep gouges in the serpent's hide. But Mythal's magic sapped Andruil's strength, and stole her knowledge of how to find the Void. After this, the great hunter could never make her way back to the abyss, and peace returned.”—Translated from ancient elven found in the Arbor Wilds It’s also worth noting, that when the time came when the Forgotten Ones needed a place that was safe and to hide, Mythal had removed the location from Andruil’s memories.

Other such information on the Forgotten Ones that strengthens the idea for me that they were never gods, nor malicious, but rather the opposing forces of the People against the Evanuris:

“The script is an ancient elven dialect. Upon further observation, it twists, the words becoming visible: There are no gods. There is only the subject and the object, the actor and the acted upon. Those with will to earn dominance over others gain title not by nature but by deed. I am Geldauran, and I refuse those who would exert will upon me. Let Andruil's bow crack, let June's fire grow cold. Let them build temples and lure the faithful with promises. Their pride will consume them, and I, forgotten, will claim power of my own, apart from them until I strike in mastery.” -- Codex entry: Geldauran's Claim

A Forgotten One enforcing the idea that there were no gods, but rather extremely powerful people whom ensnared and enslaved the rest. That the Forgotten Ones themselves should not be viewed as a pantheon either, but rather a powerful opposing force in their own right.

"In the story, Fen'Harel was captured by the hunting goddess, Andruil. He had angered her by hunting the halla without her blessing, and she tied him to a tree and declared that he would have to serve in her bed for a year and a day to pay her back. But as she made camp that night, the dark god Anaris found them, and Anaris swore that he would kill Fen'Harel for crimes against the Forgotten Ones. Andruil and Anaris decided that they would duel for the right to claim Fen'Harel. He called out to Anaris during the fight and told him of a flaw in Andruil's armor just above the hip, and Anaris stabbed Andruil in the side, and she fell. Then Fen'Harel told Anaris that he owed the Dread Wolf for the victory and ought to get his freedom. Anaris was so affronted by Fen'Harel's audacity that he turned and shouted insults at the prisoner, and so he did not see Andruil, injured but alive, rise behind him and attack with her great bow. Anaris fell with a golden arrow in his back, badly injured, and while both gods slumbered to heal their wounds, Fen'Harel chewed through his ropes and escaped." --Felassan, to Briala

Note: This is a story being told within the book and should be regarded as such, a tale including myth rather than entirely fact -- however, it is also important in understanding the Forgotten Ones lived amongst the Evanuris, and were also powerful. This is also likely referencing to Fen’Harel’s relationship with the People prior to the Evanuris’ plot to kill Mythal.

“The carvings tell the story of the Betrayal. The Dread Wolf tricking all the gods away from the world. Long ago, there were two clans of gods. The Creators looked after the People. The Forgotten Ones preyed upon us. And one god who was neither. Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. He was kin to the Creators, and in the old days, often helped them in their endless war against the Forgotten Ones. We barely even remember all their names, let alone who struck the first blow, who was wrong… Fen'Harel was clever. He could walk among both clans of gods without fear, and both believed he was one of them. He went to each side, and told them the other had forged a terrible weapon, a blade that would end the war. He told the Creators it was forged in the heavens, and the Forgotten Ones, that it was hidden in the abyss. And when the gods went seeking it, he sealed them both in their realms forever. Now he alone is left in the world.” --Merrill to Hawke during Memento of the Dalish 

Again, this is a perfect example of the tale having been turned on its head throughout history. That the Evanuris are believed to be the innocent party and that it was the Forgotten Ones who were wicked. Come Trespasser we discover it was the Evanuris who were in fact malicious and cruel and enslaved their People. Therefore, such tales can be viewed from the opposite end. That what we hear and read of the Forgotten Ones is that they have been mostly erased -- and when not -- smeared by propaganda. 

And a little silly, but I love this one: A Bottles of Thedas is the Abyssal Peach: "Not so much filtered as dredged. Should be kept in a cold, dark place. Also locked. Forgotten as well, if one is wise." This could be a cheeky reference to the Forgotten Ones locked away inside of a Titan. There are a lot of other codex entries that link to and from this topic and I may go into more detail at a later date if people are interested! I also have a very tinfoily hat as to how the Blight is potentially related to the Forgotten Ones -- but that will need another post entirely. Thanks so much for reading, if you got this far through all of my rambling! And if you’re not quite done, see my collaborative theory post with @kita-lavellan on The Old Gods HERE!

#evanuris #solas #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #mythal #fen'harel #titans #meta #headcanons #theories #elves #elvhen pantheon #falon'din #andruil #ghilan'nain #felassan #briala #here lies the abyss #lyrium #uthernera

[iawv]

She Called Him Fen’Harel

For those who are interested, I would suggest re-read first chapter since it was re-written from scratch. Chapter 12 is still WIP.

Chapter 1 - “Falherna”

She came to the world on a bright morning, flooded with the orange light of the sunrise. Surrounded by the forest, the smell of trees and moss.

She came with ease, calmness, and silence.

She came to the world with death by her side and death took the first toll - her mother.

She came to the world with hope. Hope to be loved, caressed, nourished.

She came to the world into the warm hands, holding her, lulling her.

She came with sadness, with tears touching her cheeks. Tears of loss and pain.

She came to the world with curious, wide-open eyes, bright blue like the sky, red hair and delicately pointed ears.

She came to the world with innocence, pure heart, and goodness, like every new-born.

She came with a name — Celia — the name of someone already forgotten, someone who was lost to her before she knew it.

She came with no expectations of the world, of the people.

She came to the world which destroyed her, hardened her heart and toughen her skin.

* * *

She came to the world with all that was good, pure and all of that was gone.

The world offered her trials, tribulations, doubts, and frustrations.

The world she came to was violent, merciless, full of joy and sorrow, anguish and pain.

Nonetheless, the world gave her a man, her father, a promise of another tomorrow. The greatest gift of all that's what he was.

In the world without a home, he was her rock, her solitude, her teacher and her guardian.

The world is not dangerous because of those who do harm but because of those who look at it without doing anything, he reminded her.

Barefaced like her he had no home, no past, no clan. He belonged nowhere and everywhere.

Curious, bright blue eyes observed him and belonged with him — throughout the hands that held her when she was born, the warm voice calming her, his magic which he was wielding proudly, his dreams he described beautifully and his love which he shared endlessly with her.

The world destroyed her so she could be saved.

* * *

The world gave her magic — frightening, tingling sensation on the tips of her fingers. The power she knew but couldn't control, couldn't comprehend.

Her mind felt too tight, her body too small to contain it.

 I will teach you to control it, my daughter.

That he did.

* * *

Her father kept secrets. Secrets he shared only with his diary — a thick, leather notebook.

 It will be yours once I am gone, Celia. Be patient.

So she was.

Her father taught her patience.

He gave her travels — through forests, meadows, mountains, old ruins.

He gave her knowledge of reading and writing, of cities, villages, and clans. Knowledge of the history of the world, the language of ancient elves and skills to survive.

He gave her wolves, terrifying animals which she befriended.

He gave her Fen'Harel — the legend, the tale, the statues seen in many parts of the land and the man who once lived.

He gave her love — the fairytale she never knew and never felt.

You can't hurry love, force it.  When you love you just do, and you enjoy every second spent with them. Appreciate it cause loved one comes and go.

So she listened and believed him.

He gave her everything he could but still, he kept his secrets.

* * *

He took her to towns, taught how to stay hidden, how to speak with humans and trade with them. He taught her when to lie when, to tell the truth.

He taught her the mastery of cleverness — to lie with the truth.

He taught her when to speak and when to spare the words. He took her to city elves and Dalish.

He took her to many places that taught her the truth she already knew — she did not belong anywhere and everywhere.

He taught her the taste of blood and murder. He gave her a comparison between killing and surviving.

He did whatever he could to prepare her for the world.

He did not fail.

* * *

Dalish. Elves. People.

They gave her forced vallaslin to ground her to convince her she belongs, to release her from the influence of Fen'Harel.

They gave her a new name — Falherna. The anagram of the name of her beloved god.

He caught your scent a long time ago. You are doomed, they said.

Dalish taught her how to pitty them and avoid them, how to lie to them. They showed her their stubbornness, their fears, and superstitions.

They called her mad, abomination. To them she was dangerous.

Still, they violated her carnality. Act against her will. Once more the world destroyed her, so she could be saved.

* * *

Humans. Shemlens.

They killed her father, left her brokenhearted, burning with hatred. They stained her hands with blood, woke something dark and grim inside her - she took pleasure in killing them.

For the last time, the world destroyed her.

This time she could not be saved.

* * *

A blank page in her life history. A void no one and nothing could fill.

Her father's secrets stayed out of her reach. The only token of his was locked by a spell. She had left with nothing.

The dark time came. Weeks, months full of anger, guilt, hate.

Self-destruction was her desire. Loneliness reminded her every day about her loss.

Alienation was her choice. Longing after what was lost did not want to leave her.

She just was. Existing, breathing, observing, absorbing, functioning without interacting.

* * *

Fen. The wolf.

He came to her life in a forest on a day when life seemed senseless.

He gave her a second chance. A chance for redemption.

When they found each other, they were both wounded and alone.

He gave her her smile back, her heart and a purpose in life.

He saved her when the world did not care.

* * *

New life.

The world allowed her to start fresh.

She preferred forests, sleeping among the stars, but she traveled from one city to another. Making contacts, making deals which could be advantageous in the future.

She had two lives — one with Fen, one without him.

Necessity.

That's what kept her in cities and clans.

She was the outsider, one who showed up and then disappeared when the necessities were fulfilled.

* * *

The world gave her loneliness.

Life without a companion. She accepted it, learn to live with it.

Still, she loved with all her heart. She loved her wolf, loved nature, loved living. She loved the man who once lived — Fen'Harel. Dreams of him she kept close to her heart and the Fade sometimes responded to her unfulfilled desires. Responded with grey fur and steel-blue eyes. Lonely dreams were her companion. She knew she could go with life alone.

* * *

Faron. City elf. Assassin.

He occasionally drifted through her life. He seemed so young with his impatience, impulsivity, and temper.

Still, she liked him. His fierceness, laughter, his honesty.

He gave her friendship, new abilities, and companions.

A new profession. A group of men.

Men who did not blindly follow something that others defined as the truth.

Individuals who were not limited by morality or laws.

Their lives were brief and unimportant. The world cared nothing for them.

Her new friends allowed her to seek redemption, not revenge. Gave her a new weapon and new clothes. They opened her eyes to the cruelty she only heard of before.

They made her a part of something important and big. She felt important, strong.

The world seemed a better place for once. It almost felt like she belonged.

She felt saved.

* * *

Sabrae clan.

The light in the darkness.

She hunted for them, traded for them. Another necessity in her life but different from others.

Marethari. Keeper.

Woman of knowledge, open-minded, understanding.

She gave her a small flicker of hope. Hope for dialogue, respect, and connection between her and Dalish.

Yet the world had another plan — for some she still was a dangerous, mad outsider.

The world offered no peace, not even a short break.

She fought and endured. She was just a means to an end.

She accomplished her missions and left again. * * *

Kirkwall.

The city of chains — metaphorically and literally.

It gave her desperate need to run back to Fen, forests, mountains, and seas.

Necessity and Faron made her stay, and so she did.

Days seemed long and dirty. Nights were too loud and uncomfortable.

She did not complain. It was more she ever had — a bed, an armor, friends, and food.

The world gave her a break, peace of mind. For a time there was only a job, evenings with her crew and nights filled with dreams.

Yet, Kirkwall made her anxious.

Something was in the air. Something unsettling.

She blessed the world when she left it behind.

* * *

Now. The conclave.

Standing on a hill near the forest, she looked at the horizon thinking on Anders's actions, Merrill, The Keeper, and the people she left behind.

She shook her head at the thought. The world was about to change. The Conclave was near and the fate of all people depended on the negotiations, which were soon to begin.

She felt the upcoming danger, the air smelled of electricity as though before a storm, ozone was palatable in the growing wind and the sky had taken on a strange sea like color, neither blue nor green.

Templars and Mages were approaching from either side of the world, entrusting their hope in the Most Holy Divine Justinia, and in her idea to stop the conflict which had been growing more and more dangerous for months.

Fen howled loudly and his fur ruffled.

She patted his head, speaking quietly "I can feel it too, my friend".

Grey eyes lingered on her face for what felt like the longest time and her hand stayed on his back, petting and comforting the animal.

"You must go now. I'll find you, ma Fen" she kneeled beside him.

The wolf howled again touching her hand with his wet nose "Fen'Harel will guide you. We will meet again".

She petted him, delighted by the warmth of his body and roughness of his fur. She rose slowly, moving her gaze back to the horizon and to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

"Go now" her voice was unyielding.

Goodbyes to the ones you love had to be made quickly, without unnecessary words.

The animal stayed at her side for another moment, then with a flick of his tail, he made his way slowly into the forest.

There was no need to watch over him.

The wolf knew how to find a way back to her.

In a few hours, she would meet him again, in the forest near Haven.

Her lips stretched into a smile when she thought about spending more time with her wolf.

The last mission was short ahead, and then she would be saved from the world for good.

#She Called Him Fen'Harel fic #She Called Him FenHarel #Solas #Falherna #fanfic #DAI fic #solavellan fic #solavellan

[moontheoretist]

Eluvian Network was divided between each of Elven Gods, including the Forgotten Ones

I am not sure if anybody talked about that before, because I didn't see any theories about that, but maybe I was just not looking well. Anyway, I was playing DAI today and got the cutscene in which Morrigan shows me the Crossroad. I never really looked hard into them before, but this time I was and some idea happened to snap inside my head. Morrigan in this very same cutscene tells us that to enter the eluvian, you need a key and that key can be anything, because each eluvian is different. I was listening to her, but also glancing around maybe first time in my life and noticed that the mirror which she used was marked. 

It is located in the Crossroads, attached to something akin to a pillar. Pillar has 4 sides, on each there is one mirror, but each of them is guarded by different statues. The one which Morrigan used to enter the Crossroads has dragon statues as guards. The one to the right from in-game Inquisitor perspective's eyes (on the screen it's on the player's left) is guarded by Dread Wolf statues. Then on the other side is mirror guarded by Hunter statues, which we can see in various places throughout the game. And the last has howling wolves statues (which I know thanks to Tinfoil Extraordinaire who posted their research about eluvians made thanks to flycam on reddit - here is a link, its’s cool!).

When I noticed that it made me think... like, is it possible that each elven god, each from Evanuris and maybe even other gods, the ones which aren't remembered anymore - The Forgotten Ones, had their own mirror travel network and each network was unlockable by the key connected to that particular elven god? Fen'Harel had access to certain part of eluvian network, Briala had to another one, and then Qunari had to even different one, while Morrigan had access to only a few as she breached in with power and knowledge. I think though that her power and knowledge weren't the only things which let her access the network marked by a dragon statues. I think that her being a daughter of Mythal/Flemeth played a role in it, giving her access by blood, magic and knowledge recognition to some of the dragon eluvians as Morrigan was using Flemeth's grimuar so she had the same knowledge Flemeth/Mythal had, but not the same amount of it, hence why her access was limited to only a few mirrors, not counting the ones, which could be only opened from the outside of the Crossroads.

Most of the eluvians in the Crossroads isn't marked though (probably because as we learned in Tresspasser you can actually see eluvian destination on its surface and it’s probably how elves knew where they’re going), but the fact that the ones on the pillar are can mean that 4 people had access to this certain part of Crossroads (as we know from Tresspasser there may be more of the Crossroads and also different nexus which connects them all, as Wyrd Sisters theorize, probably belonging to June the Ultimate Crafter). But let's believe Morrigan for a second that this place connects ALL eluvians for a second and assume there are other pillars with other statues guarding them nearby. It then means that all gods had access to Crossroads, but the very fact that Fen'Harel's and Mythal's eluvians are placed so close to each other can mean they were in close relationship, which we know they were, hence why I bring that up. 

The Hunter statues though puzzle me. I am not exactly sure, to which elven god they refer, but the only one I can think about now is Andruil, because she was elven goddess of hunting. I may be wrong though, so correct me if you know what hunter statues represent. If they are referring to Andruil though it could be seen as kind of weird, because Andruil doesn't really have cool history with Fen'Harel and Mythal from what we know. But maybe, just maybe this whole story about Void was more personal to Solas and Mythal than to other gods, because their bond had been stronger than the other gods? Maybe the corruption Andruil brought from the Void which plagued her and made her go mad was also part of the reason why Mythal wanted to get rid of the corruption? Not only because it posed a threat to elves in general, but also because Andruil was as close to Mythal as Solas seems to be, maybe? Considering the fact that later Solas imprisoned Evanuris due to the murder of Mythal, may indicate that even if they were close before they didn't stay close forever. I mean assuming that they ever were close. But it may also be just a coincidence that their eluvians were placed so close to each other, and I am just seeing too much here, because of assuming that the way in which eluvians are placed inside the Crossroads was deliberately planned instead of just made on a whim.

Anyway my initial point is that according to my speculation each elven god had their own eluvian network and their own key, which explains why one key can open several eluvians across vast distances like in the cases of Briala and Qunari. I also think there may be more than nine keys, assuming that eluvians were created before Evanuris became the most important gods in elven history and pushed other factions into darkness of history, but I cannot be sure of that, especially considering that most of the eluvians aren't marked with the statues, so I cannot actually count how many keys there should be. If eluvians were created after Evanuris became the most powerful elves, then it would be logical to assume that there are only nine keys, each attached to certain god. But considering what Morrigan says about "each eluvian being different" there may be something like private eluvians for higher class elves and hence more keys even in times of the rule of Evanuris. In the Tresspasser there are some eluvians marked in a way which may be connected either to Evanuris or to The Forgotten Ones (Mysterious Elven Mosaics video made me notice that, because Ghil Dirthalen took into consideration the option that the masks she talks about may be masks which Forgotten Ones wore, which in the case of Eluvians could even mean that the second Crossroads we found in Tresspasser were separated from the other ones and were used by the opposed fraction to Evanuris as traveling network - one of the Eluvians shown in the video has even horns on them, it’s marked after someone). It’s worth mentioning that Morrigan also says that some eluvians were left opened, which explains why Tamlen could interact with eluvian in Brecilian forest and how Merrill managed to use the mirror even though we never heard about any of them having a key to this particular eluvian. Though because I never played Dalish Elf origin there may be also a chance that Tamlen had a key and either knew he has it or didn't realize he has it in the end.

[Here I tried to embed the video titled Tamlen and the Eluvian, but failed.]

Watching the video posted on Wyrd Sisters of Thedas channel makes me wonder about even more things than just eluvian network itself. Underground city filled with darkness. Was Merrill able to reach it, or the fact that this eluvian was destroyed, and she had to repair it changed its destination to Crossroads? We do not know much about what she found on the other side, so it’s possible that repairing eluvian may switch its destination from the city to Crossroads.

By going through reddit I found also two pieces of info which may indicate that some parts of eluvian network are owned by certain gods. Some eluvians, including Merrill’s have halla on them, the symbol of Ghilan’nain.

The screenshot:

And also that Merrill’s mirror can be found in Descent DLC.

We could meet Merrill in Descent if we had a chance, OMG.

#dragon age #eluvian network #eluvians #crossroads #wyrd sisters #morrigan #merrill #tamlen

[icharchivist]

hey, so, i’m not hallucinating, those statues are elven right. the owl (Andruil (??) if i’m correct) is the most striking one, i think the banner behind is def elven and if we admit they’re all elven, the howling wolf is Fen'Harel, likely. But also like the woman statue has hair styled like Flemythal, so it’s Mythal’s statue??

Okay so question how did Bright, shining golden statues of Falon'Din, Fen'Harel and Mythal ends up in Valammar, Deep Roads near the surface? Just scavangers? bc like those are perticularly good statues and considering Trespasser’s mentions of how Mythal & co destroyed some Deep Roads, I’m kinda surprised and if it’s scanvanger works, to what purpose, how did it end up in a dwarven vault to start with?

Just. Damn.

#ichablogging dai #ichablogging ithellenlavellan #i'm mostly posting this to keep a trace of it #also i really love how some elements only spelled out in the dlcs were actually hinted at in the main game at different points #just i love this

[findsarahh]

Timeless

Summary: Isera Lavellan is living in modern Thedas completing her research on plants when her research takes her to a place in the Solasan Mountain range. The discovery of a strange glowing mirror takes her to a world she has never known before where she meets someone she never thought existed.

Fen'harel (Solas) x Lavellan

AO3: Ch1|Ch5

Chapter 5

Isera slams the door to her room shut out of anger. She is used to having to fight an upward battle to prove that she genuinely knows what she is doing and that she is intelligent. When she first started studying plants, there were always snide comments, “Oh you are studying plants? Of course, you are, you are an elf!” When she was hired for her first teaching job, she had to prove she was smart and not just ‘smart for an elf.’

She had danced with the subject of her race for years, but it stung more coming from another elf. Not just any elf—an elf from a past where elves had status. He said the words with a level of exceptionally callousness and calmness that it almost took her by surprise. Isera shakes her head, refusing to allow the self-hatred that she developed over the year to resurface.

And, to add insult to injury, the man is known as Fen’harel the God who, according to legend damned the elven race by sealing away the Gods. Why should it surprise her that he of all people would insult her? Legend says he bears no love for the elven people.

Isera throws herself onto the bed, her mind racing with ideas of how to escape this place and return home with more desire than ever.

  Isera is surprised that she doesn’t have her usual wakeup call from Felassan. She stares around the room, the light flowing through the curtains on the windows. Isera climbs off the bed as she silently walks across the room in slight confusion. On the table in the center of the room is a small stack of books and one reads, ‘The History of Magic.’

 Isera frowns and her eyes narrow as she carefully picks up the book with suspicion. Half of her expects the book to jump out at her but nothing happens. She quickly flips through the pages. Inside the text contains the theory of how magic began and much, much more.

 She shuts the book as she sucks her teeth in annoyance as she slams the book shut. Did Solas leave these here because he felt regretful about what he said to her? Isera rolls her eyes as she changes into her day clothing and heads out into the garden. ‘Don’t fall for the tricks of kindness—he is the Dread Wolf.’ She whispers in her mind. The legend of the Dread Wolf is known by all elves, even those in the city and unaffiliated with the clans. Isera also wonders if this is a game to him. Insulting her only to leave the very books she needs at her finger tips.

 Isera is surprised when she walks out to the garden to see a handful of men and woman standing nearby. One man approaches her as the group looks onward. “Excuse me, my lady,” He begins, head slightly bowed out of respect. “We have been watching you work the soil—we are grateful that Fen’harel has saved us and we do not want to be burdened. Some of us use to harvest, and seed plants and humbly offer to assist.”

 She stares at him for a moment focusing on only one part of the statement—Fen’harel saved them? “What do you mean Fen’harel saved you? From what?” Isera asks. The man looks at her with surprise. “Surely, you know my lady? That is why you have come? To help us!” The man speaks as he straightens. “The war between the Gods—the false Gods. Fen’harel freed us. We were once slaves, forced to fight or be sacrificed.”

 Isera continues to stare at the man in confusion. She had been taught that Fen’harel sealed away the Gods, thus bringing doom to the elves, not that he was a savior to them. Never had she heard that the elves had enslaved their people. “You were a slave?” She asks her hand touching her stomach. She can feel her anxiety rising at the thought that her people were no better than Tevinter.

 The man nods. “No longer, my lady. But we will not be idle. We are free, and we choose to help.”

 It takes Isera a moment to process what the man said to her, but she nods. “Yes, of course.” She whispers. “If you would like to help, I would accept the offer.” The man smiles and motions for the people behind him to begin working.

 Isera doesn’t move as she watches the people begin helping the garden and toiling more soil. Part of her is in shock at the news. ‘The Dalish couldn’t be wrong.’ She thinks as she continues to stand. ‘We were free, before Tevinter. Tevinter enslaved us. We didn’t enslave each other.’ She rambles on in her mind. Yet, these people are real, and they are telling that they weren’t free at all. That her Gods aren’t real.

 She has never been one for religion, in part to being raised away from the Dalish Clans and being raised in Rivain. Isera rarely prayed to the Gods, yet the Gods have been a part of her culture. If the pantheon are not gods, who are they?

 “Surprise, surprise,” the familiar voice of Felassan approaches from behind. “I see you managed some help.” Isera turns to face him. “They offered.” She responds without a second thought.

 “They are a superstitious group. You didn’t die from toiling the soil. They must believe you have healed the scourge from the land.” Felassan states as he leads against a post and looks towards the people. Isera stares at him in confusion.

 “What?” She says her voice is raising slightly. “The land was cursed?”

 Felassan turns to look back at her. “Of course it was. That is why nothing was growing. Andruil sent her warriors for an attack and used magic to poison the land.” He explains a grin forming on his face.

 Isera scowls, her eyes narrowing towards him and teeth bared. “And you knew this? I could have been poisoned?” She shrieks her hands are balled into a fist, and she stares down Felassan. Flashes of memory cross her mind as she realizes that the plants and berries were different from the ones she sorted in the kitchen. “I could have died!”

 “But you didn’t.” Felassan hums with an annoying level of cheerfulness, a grin on his face and mischief in his violet eyes. Isera releases a frustrated howl as she storms past him. She turns to glare at him as he jogs to catch up to her. “My, you have a temper!” He tells her the grin still on his face. “Your face turns a lovely shade of red!”

 Isera scoffs coming to a halt and glaring at him. “Oh, no,” She snarls. “My face turns red because I am angry—it’s not lovely. You knowingly let me walk into blighted land! You have no concern for my wellbeing, and you don’t get to be condescending to me by telling me by “temper” is “lovely.” She shouts at him, one hand resting on her hip the other pointing accusingly at him. “You and Solas—Fen’harel, whatever he wants to be called, are assholes.” She mutters as she walks away.

 Before Isera can continue to think about how much Felassan annoys her, he walks up next to her and orders her to follow him. His voice is harder and less whimsical than before and sends a chill down her spine. She does not want to follow him, but her instinct is telling her to do as he says and so she does.

 He leads her down multiple vestibules and stops in front of an elegant door. “Wait here,” he orders once more without glancing at her as he steps into the room.

 Isera sighs and rolls her eyes as she waits outside of the slightly jarred door. She can hear Felassan’s voice on the other side, and she steps somewhat to peak through the opening. The chamber is filled with light, but even Isera can sense the dread coming from inside. She backs away from the door when she recognizes the silhouette of none other than Fen’harel.

 She shakes her head as she leans against the wall a few feet from the door. She needs to figure out how to get home. She has put too much time into trying to help the people of the past.

 Felassan emerges moments later and looks around for her. When he spots her, he walks past and motions for her to follow him. He leads her down another vestibule and into a chamber where the walls and ceiling are glass letting the light flow into the room filled to the brim with plants.

 “A botanic garden…” Isera murmurs, her guard dropping as she walks into the room the smell of clean, sweet and fresh air filling her lungs.

 Felassan coughs from behind. “You have been permitted to work in here in addition to the field.” He informs her and leaves the room. Isera watches as he leaves the door wide open before she turns and begins walking the garden. She can hear the sound of running water near the back, and she sees a waterfall flowing into the pool filled with blood and black lotus.

 Isera walks back to the front and sits down at a desk she saw earlier and begins flipping through the journal of the botanist before her. He left detailed notes and drawings of each plant he cared for. She can’t help but feel excited. This room is everything she has dreamed of. A room full of thriving plants!

   The familiar voice of Fen’harel causes Isera to fall off the chair she is sitting on. She had been deep in thought and reading the journal. She snaps her head to look at him. He is dressed in simple cloth and not the golden armor she has seen him in the times before. Her eyes narrow as she watches him suspiciously.

 The room is being lit by magic, and it is late into the night.

 “My apologies.” He says, his head bowing slightly, “I did not mean to startle you.” His words are soft and his arms are resting at his sides. Non-threatening. “I see Felassan disobeyed orders.” He murmurs as he looks around the room.

 Isera doesn’t say anything as she continues to watch him. He looks exhausted. The soft shade of dark circles under his eyes are more prominent than ever, and his shoulders are rounded. She softly closes the book and stands. “I can leave.” She announces and begins walking out of the room.

 Fen’harel raises his arm, blocking her from exiting and shakes his head. “That will not be necessary.” He states, tilting his head to look at her. Isera pauses her eyes flickering up towards him. “It is late,” she whispers and turns her attention towards the door. She is unsure of what to say to him. She is still annoyed with him from the night before. He hasn’t even apologized.  

 He drops his arm. “Then, good night.” He murmurs as he walks away from her and deeper into the atrium. Isera nods and heads back to her room without glancing back.

#solas x lavellan #solavellan #solas x oc #fen'harel #fen'harel x lavellan #vir writes

[stardustandash]

Blood and Snow: A Dragon Age: Inquisition Fanfic

In which Lavellan slips when setting up a landmark point into a pack of Red Templars. Dorian doesn't care for the Inquisitor's lack of self-preservation. Featuring Ëonwë Lavellan x Dorian Pavus.

3574 words, h/c and fluff.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut!

The Emprise du Lion was a lot colder than Ëonwë expected. The inquisition may have been based in a mountaintop fortress, but this was a whole new level of freezing. The whole river, the waterfalls, his toes, everything was frozen solid. Not to mention the icy reception from those left in Sahrnia. At least he could understand people being standoffish after having friends and family members taken without word or warning. Happened in his clan in the Free Marches. Sometimes someone would wander a little too far from camp, other times a scouting party. Sometimes family, but Ëonwë didn't want to think about that right now. Nobody needed an emotional Inquisitor. All they wanted was a prop to look shiny and rally behind. They needed a figurehead, and being that Ëonwë couldn't let his emotions out the way he was used to. He was stuck behind a mask of cold pleasantry. Leliana was coaching him.

"Fasta vass. All this damn snow is going to be the death of me. And my poor boots," Dorian was whining again somewhere behind him.

"We're all just as cold as you, Dorian," said Cassandra in that tone that made it clear she was so very done with all Dorian's complaining.

Ëonwë swallowed an amused smile. He wanted to laugh. Cassandra was so easy to rile up even with the armour she kept around her. Dorian seemed to take particular pleasure in getting under Cassandra's skin, playing up his Tevene heritage just to piss her off. Ëonwë wished he could laugh, but instead he kept on marching. Cassandra had said something about a couple of dangerous mages camping out on one of the small islands in the river, and the Inquisition's scouts reported a fade rift somewhere out on the ice. Ëonwë was hoping to tackle both problems before the sun slipped beyond the tall mountains and bade them set up camp.

The mages weren't hard to find. They were camping at the base of an old lookout tower. They had lit a fire, made camp. Ëonwë really wondered if they were so evil as Cassandra had said. They were joking with each other as the party crept along the ice, silent as a spirit. Ëonwë hated hunting other mages. It felt so wrong, like he was becoming one of those damn templars that Keeper Deshanna warned him about, hunting down mages because they weren't in one of the shemlen chantry prisons. As soon as they popped their heads over the ridge the mages attacked, and then it was kill or be killed anyway.

Ëonwë was startled to see the mages using blood magic. Despite how often he saw it in his time with the Inquisition it always shocked him that people truly used blood magic. It always seemed to be a bedtime story, a monster to keep younger mages in line. Hearing Dorian talk about Tevinter Magisters and seeing all the blood mages in the flesh was something like a nightmare. They made short work of the mages, Dorian's fire magic and Ëonwë's electricity keeping them at bay while Cole and Cassandra dashed in before the mages could let off too many spells.

"Thank you," said Cassandra, wiping the blood off her blade.

Ëonwë felt sick. This was nothing to be thanked for. Even though killing people was something he had to do as the Inquisitor he hated it. He didn't want to be thanked for it.

"Thanks for helping me commit murder on my fellow mage? Tactful Cassandra, very tactful."

It was Dorian who voiced what Ëonwë was thinking. Ëonwë could have kissed the man. Actually he would really like to kiss Dorian anyway, but perhaps in a different place. They were still standing around the ruined camp of mages they had just killed.

They moved on, found the fade rift, closed it easily. The rifts were becoming routine. Ëonwë thought that the Inquisition soldiers could probably just drag him to the rifts while he was sleeping, because sealing them seemed to be second nature now. He just wished that the pain the anchor caused by sealing the rifts would lessen over time as they sealed more, but no such luck. Sealing the rift left his whole forearm painfully numb, pins and needles over every inch of flesh down to his bones. No healing potion would lessen the pain, Ëonwë knew from trial and error, and knew complaining would accomplish nothing.

Instead he set off for the bank of the river, party in tow.He had seen a note by the mages' camp and wanted to check out the location mentioned in it. They found a statue of Fen'Harel, and another note. It wasn't too interesting and they backtracked towards the river. Looking back towards Sahrnia Ëonwë saw a small outcropping in the middle of a waterfall. It looked like a good place to set up a location marker, and there was a sheet of ice that would make a nice bridge over to it.. Without much thought he hopped up onto the ice and made his way to the location. Placing the marker he noticed none of his party had followed him onto the ice bridge. Could the humans in his party not walk as easily on the slippery surface? They were doing fine on the thick ice of the river.

Then he heard voiced behind him. Well, not exactly voices. He'd heard it before though. Ëonwë whirled around and found the group of red templars on the opposite bank of the waterfall. He motioned to his party to follow. Perhaps if he could spy on them a little they might be able to understand what they were up to in the Emprise. He crouched and crept stealthily forward, not paying attention to whether or not Cassandra, Dorian, and Cole were following. He was about to peer over the edge of the ice when it happened. He slipped.

Ëonwë landed none to gracefully on his back and the force of the landing knocked the wind out of his chest. It also drew all the red templars' attention. Having sunk in the snow Ëonwë nearly didn't roll out of the way in time, his movement restricted by the fluffy white substance and the fact that he couldn't breathe. Somehow Ëonwë managed to get to his feet without being beheaded. Another miracle for the Inquisitor, he grinned to himself. From the other side of the waterfall he could hear his party calling for him. No time to answer though as a red templar shield charged him.

He swiftly dodged, swinging his staff in his hands to let out a chain of lightning in order to paralyze the templars for a few moments in order to get some distance between him and them. One he could maybe handle in close quarters, but four? not a chance. Some distance between them and Ëonwë let off another spell, and one templar went down in flames, but the other three closed in and one's well timed thrust sliced through Ëonwë's leather jerkin and brushed against his ribs. Dancing backwards he collided with the spiked shield of another templar. With one hand he whirled his staff and with the other he pulled out a health potion, unstoppering it with his teeth and swallowing it down as fast as possible. Ëonwë felt the wound in his side prickle with the healing. He knew it wouldn't fully heal it, but at least he wasn't going to die of blood loss before the others got there. Where were they? It wouldn't have taken them this long to figure out they could cross the river's ice in order to get to him, right?

Ëonwë suddenly felt nervous. What if Cassandra was holding Dorian and Cole back and this was some kind of test, to prove he was strong enough to be the Inquisitor. If so, Ëonwë was sure he was failing. He couldn't hear them calling anymore. Ëonwë was surrounded now, the snow making it hard for him to get enough distance to properly cast spells. He was resorting to using his staff like a spear, the blade end held in front and desperately wishing he had taken up Keeper Deshanna's offer of teaching him combat without magic.

This close to the red templars he could see the lyrium growing out of their skin in the gaps of their armour. He aimed his blade there and stabbed it in, unnerved that the man's eyes looked dead long before he sunk the vicious curved blade of his staff into the man's throat. One more templar dealt with, but the other two seized the opportunity created by Ëonwë killing their comrade and each struck in that moment. One with a sword through the muscle in his left shoulder, the other with their shield, bashing him hard on his head.

Ëonwë dropped to his knees, ears ringing. Did everyone know how pretty blood looked on snow? It was so bright in contrast, but beautiful too. His fingers fumbled for a health potion, he was sure he had one more. Or had Dorian been carrying the extras? Ëonwë's fingers met no glass flasks. He heard the crunch of snow as the templars advanced in his fallen form, but he had one more thing he was just crazy enough to try. He waited until they were right behind him, before flipping around. He'd timed it right, their swords were just in their downward swing. With palms full of crackling blue electricity he smacked the sides of the blades. Ëonwë's left hand was slower from the wound in his shoulder and the blade bit deep into his palm with the anchor. Biting back a howl of pain Ëonwë emptied his reserves of magic into the electricity flowing from his hands, frying the two red templars in their very conductive armour. It was something Keeper Deshanna told him not to do, it could just as easily rebound back and fry him as well, if the draining of his magic didn't kill him in the first place. It was hard to stop the flow of magic, but with a great mental effort he stopped the magic. It was harder to stop without the intermediary of the staff. The two templars fell into the snow with a muffled thump. Ëonwë swayed and followed them to the ground.

He lay there gasping and shaking with the pain and exhaustion. The others handn't come. No one was there to help him. Ëonwë had the same feeling after waking up in the ruins of Haven, but that was different, then no one was there to help him because he'd ordered them all to flee. He'd been relieved by that knowledge then, it meant everyone got away, that they were safe. Here, it was different, hurtful even. He'd be rushing to the aid of any Inquisition soldier, but his party hadn't come rushing to aid him. Ëonwë rather thought he'd been forgotten, and left to die bleeding in the snow. Did they know Dalish funeral customs? Or would they bury him in the Andrastian fashion because they believed him the Herald of a shemlen god. Would they inform his clan? Ëonwë almost missed the shouts coming from the distance.

"Inquisitor?" Cassandra's voice was shrill, worried. A bit late now, Ëonwë thought bitterly.

"He's over here," Dorian's voice was closer.

Ëonwë blinked and Dorian's face was suddenly all he could see. Did the man know he was so handsome close up? He wondered what that mustache would feel like if they kissed. Would it tickle? Creators he was glad Dorian couldn't hear his thoughts.

"He's alive," said Dorian with a sigh of relief.

"It hurts. Hurts more that they didn't come, where are they? I don't like being alone. He smells like burnt sugar," Cole was digging in his head again.

Ëonwë found it hard to care though. Then he was being lifted, propped up by Dorian as the other mage held another health potion to his lips. Ëonwë drank the soothing potion greedily, feeling the wounds healing as if he'd had a week of rest by the time he finished the potion.

"I'm all right," said Ëonwë, back to Inquisitor mode. He couldn't sulk about the fact that they hadn't come to his aid when he had needed it.

"Are you sure, you may want to look in a mirror, because your hair is rather disgusting with all that blood in it."

Ëonwë felt his long golden hair. It was matted with tacky blood by his right temple.

"Ok, bath, then I'll be all right." Dorian heaved him upright and slung his good arm over his shoulder.

"Dorian it's fine, I can walk back to camp from here."

Though Ëonwë had to admit it was nice to be supported by a handsome man, especially since he was exhausted.

"And deprive me of a chance to hold the great and beautiful Inquisitor? No, I think I'll keep you right here," said Dorian with a grin at Cassandra's glare.

"We should make for Skyhold. I don't think that shoulder will be up for much besides paperwork for a little while," said Cassandra.

It was true that Ëonwë's shoulder was throbbing something fierce. He probably couldn't lift it to use his staff anyway.

"I'm sorry, I know you didn't want to come here twice."

"Nonsense. We should be apologizing to you, those red templars had friends on the river, we should have been quicker to get to you."

Ëonwë felt his heart warm at Dorian's apology. They had been trying to help him, he wasn't alone. All the tension in his body evaporated and he practically melted into Dorian's rather nicely muscled side.

"Woah there," said Dorian, hoisting Ëonwë a little higher.

"Sorry," Ëonwë mumbled.

He let his head fall onto Dorian's chest as they slowly walked back to Sahrnia and the Inquisition camp. He really did smell like burnt sugar, and underneath that was some sort of spice Ëonwë didn't recognize. The walk to camp seemed to take forever, one frozen footstep after the other. Snow started to fall in gentle flurries and the sun was setting just as they made it back to the village. Ëonwë bet that it was quite the pretty picture to look out over the river right now, but all he wanted was a bedroll and some elfroot. He shivered against Dorian and the mage held him tighter. Had he ever told the mage he loved his affinity for fire magic? It made him ever so nice and warm.

"I'm glad you like it," Dorian said in a low, gentle voice.

Distantly Ëonwë was aware of Cassandra barking orders at the Inquisition soldiers, of Cole bringing him a whole elfroot plant, and of a soft bedroll appearing under him. Just when he had lain down Ëonwë didn't know. The delicious heat beside him started to move away, but Ëonwë wasn't having any of that. He reached out for with his good arm, and when his fingertips met soft robes he tugged with all his minimal strength. There was some chuckling and something was said to him as someone combed a hand through his hair. They shouldn't do that, his hair was gross right now. But the warmth was back at his side and the darkness looming at the edge of consciousness was so inviting.

Ëonwë slept through the whole four day journey back to Skyhold. He woke up the day after the party had returned in his own quarters, with a sling on his left arm and bandages wound around his head. He still felt like he'd been kicked by a horse and then forced to run behind the damn beast across all of Thedas. He was never doing magic without a staff again. He was surprised to see Dorian. The other mage had commandeered the comfiest chair in the Inquisitor's room and was reading what looked to be Leliana's spy reports.

"Good morning," said Ëonwë. Actually it was more of a groan, but he'd just been sleeping off magic exhaustion. He could get a free pass.

"Afternoon, actually. It's almost time for supper," Dorian smacked the reports onto the desk to punctuate his speech.

"Good afternoon then."

Dorian accepted with a nod. They lapsed into silence. Dorian was staring at Ëonwë, and while he might happily be stared at by those dark eyes in some other situations, waking up from a four day nap covered in bandages was not one of them.

"Did you know you wouldn't let go of me after we got you to camp. You kept mumbling about me being warm and clinging like a leech."

"Sorry."

"It was quite inconveniencing." Dorian folded his arms.

Ëonwë knew his snuggling wasn't what was bothering Dorian. He liked to think he knew the mage well enough by now, and the mage was pretending to be mad about the snuggling to cover up what he was really mad about.

"Dorian," Ëonwë used the tone he'd use on the children in the clan when they denied doing something naughty.

"Why didn't you get yourself out of there! I know Solas taught you how to fade-step, so why did you fight them!"

Ah there it was. And the honest answer to that question was kind of embarrassing.

"I didn't even think of that. I didn't even think of running away."

"How's it going to look when then Inquisitor dies with the holes in the sky all because he couldn't swallow his damn pride and learn some self preservation."

There it was. Ëonwë's importance to anyone in the Inquisition began and ended with the mark on his hand. The mark that was slowly killing him. Solas had said it would be slower now, he had managed to subdue the mark when the breach was closed, but it would still eventually kill him.

"That's all anyone cares about isn't it. The anchor. If you want to go seal the rifts so badly I'll gladly cut off my arm and give it to you. That way I can go back to my clan. I belong there, not with all you shemlen."

Ëonwë's chest heaved. There was a pressure in his head making him dizzy, probably from sitting upright for so long. Tears pricked his eyes. Admitting he was only as good as his mark out loud hurt more than he thought. As much as he wanted to go home, he also liked being part of the Inquisition and being able to explore the world without looking over his shoulder for templars or slavers. He liked being able to help people. He liked his companions as well, he just wished they might like him back as someone other than the 'elf with the rift sealing mark'.

"Inquisitor," Dorian began, but Ëonwë was sick of being called that.

"Lavellan."

"What?"

"My clan name. It's Lavellan. I hate that I don't have a name anymore. I'm just the Inquisitor."

"Well, Lavellan, I probably won't ever be this nice again, so you should shut up and listen," said Dorian.

Ëonwë nodded mutely.

"You are not just the anchor. You've helped so many people, Hell, five minutes after I met you you faced down a fucking dragon on your own so that everyone else could flee. You have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met, and if people can only see the glowing green on your hand then they don't deserve you. I didn't mean that I was worried we might lose our chance at sealing the rifts, I was worried we might lose you. You have become something of a friend, and since I have so few I can hardly risk losing one."

Dorian wasn't looking at him now. There was a faint blush in his ears as the man gazed at the ugly blue and gold bedspread.

"You consider me a friend?" Ëonwë could hardly believe his extraordinarily big ears. Could Dorian really be his friend. There was a flutter of hope in his chest, and something a little more.

"Yes, if you can believe it."

"I am honoured!"

Ëonwë felt his face break into the first true smile he'd had since before coming face to face with Corypheus.

"I do believe that is the first time I've seen you smile. You should do it more often, it suits you more than the poker face," said Dorian with a smile of his own.

He reached out and grasped Ëonwë's hand for a brief moment. Ëonwë could feel the callouses on Dorian's hands from his staff, and the softness in them from a life of luxury. But they were strong and warm, and so much bigger than his own. All too soon Dorian stood, taking his warm hands with him.

"I should go inform the healer and your advisors that you've awoken at last. In the meantime, try not to die, I would notice if you were gone."

And with that Dorian strutted his way out of Ëonwë's chambers and was gone. Ëonwë felt like he could get up and dance at that moment. His first friend in Skyhold. His first friend outside of his clan. Oh he couldn't wait to write to Keeper Deshanna, she would be outraged that he made friends with a shemlen, and she might just die of shock when he told her that the shemlen was one of those evil Tevinter magisters she told stories of around the campfire.

#dragon age fanfic #da:i #da:i fanfic #inquisitor lavellan #lavellan #oc lavellan #lavellan x dorian #i wrote this 2 years ago and its not even on my computer anymore #oh well #Ëonwë lavellan

[lairofdragonagelore]

The Crossroads [DLC Trespasser]: Unknown Ruin

This particular section of the Deep Roads seems to have been abandoned. It connects to a former lyrium mining site of unknown origin, which contains statues of Mythal, Fen'Harel, and of an unknown creature. Unlike dwarven constructions, this location lacks the usual lightning and heating produced by moulting rock, turning it unusually dark. There is no trace of darkspawn activity either.

This place is divided into

Overlook

Excavated Caves

Lower Walkways

Unknown Ruin

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

Once we visit the Lower Archives and the Scholar’s Retreat, we have access to a discharge power that blows rubble away and it can be used in the Deep Roads section against a rubble-blocked door. Free, we can see an eluvian inside a small room.

When we step into the eluvian, we are transported to an Unknown Ruin of dwarven architecture with Elvhen decorations: four golden Howling Fen'Harel statues and an Elven Owl statue welcome us. The Fen'Harel statue may represent protection of this place, while the owl, a "secret to keep".  These concepts seem to coincide with what the Dev’s note says for this room: a place where Solas reached to the conclusion that the Evanuris needed to be stopped, but their actions had to be kept in secret in order to avoid anyone else to be tempted of repeating their actions [More details in Murals in DAI].

If we see the details of the corridors, they are a rich combination of dwarven and elvhen styles: elvhen statues on dwarven-made bases. The walls are dwarven and show dwarven patterns, sometimes decorated with the golden lines or golden helicoids proper of elvhen design. 

The Elven Owl statue has Veilfire at its talons which is expected. If this statue is related to Dirthamen and secrets, it seems reasonable to see it as a source of Veilfire, with which the secrets are revealed. Fen’Harel howling wolves sit at its sides, again, almost as if he were guarding this entrance. We have seen this configuration with Mythal before: the central statue is in a position that means “being honoured”, while the wolves around it represent “protecting it”.

The small corridor we follow has typical decorated elvhen mosaics on the ground [which contains the asterisk symbol], as the walls are made of dwarven style, and decorated in golden with elvhen patterns. The ceiling is a combination of elvhen and dwarven styles. I don't know where in Thedas this place is located, since we came here through an eluvian in the Deep Roads, but what we can know for sure is that this dwarven-elvhen ruin is on the surface: we can see the Sun entering the room through the hole in the ceiling.

The corridors lead to a small room with a big mural.

Like in all the places where we find a Sitting Fen'Harel statue with an elven box in its paws, we know that a puzzle must be solved. As usual, there is a Stone in Razikale-Ceremony-style which gives instructions about it.

At a corner of the room, we find two Howling Fen'Harel statues, one fallen, the other broken, and a golden Elven Owl statue. It looks like there was a secondary altar here, with the golden figure in the middle of the two Fen’Harel statues. Here, the symbols again seem to relate in some way to Dirthamen with Solas. The pattern that Dirthamen is always around Fen'Harel's business is something that is repeated quite frequently, especially in Trespasser, but the exact relationship to understand it is never given. 

------------- A brief comment apart ------------------

Note: Even though one would think that the Owl statue is an undeniable symbol of Falon’Din, along all the posts we were visiting so far we have noticed an overlapping of “associations” for this animal: 

The owl is related to secrets and Dirthamen [The Lost Temple of Dirthamen shows a link between this statue and “a Path of secrets”, plus the whole Temple seem to imply knowing secret, horrifying spirit-bind processes that may or may not include Falon’Din].  

Tevinter art has an Arcane Flag where it’s obvious that represents an elvhen owl statue. This gives us an idea that magical knowledge is related to this symbol simply because Tevinter co-opted it from the Elvhen.

The relationship of the Owl with Falon’Din only belongs to the unreliable Dalish tales, as well as Dirthamen’s two ravens. This may represent that Dirthamen’s symbol was attributed to Falon’Din by accident given the strange symbiotic and inseparable relationship that Dirthamen and Falon’Din have. 

And in a less popular way, the owl has also been attributed as the messenger of Andruil [ Andruil's Messenger]. This knowledge is also based on the unreliable Dalish Tales. 

In conclusion, the owl is not exactly an animal we can link to any of the three Evanuris [Dirthamen, Falon’Din and Andruil] with a strong degree of certainty. However, to me, the strongest proof is the Tevinter Flag. The owl is related to arcane knowledge, and The Lost Temple of Dirthamen has shown us that Dirthamen has knowledge of bounding processes, strange manipulations made by Ghilan’nain [Her red mosaic and potential connections to The Horror of Hormak], and maybe including the scaled ones [given the paintings in his Temple]. It is also true that all of this may end up applying to Falon’Din due to the curious lack of any representation of Dirthamen in his own Temple and a lot of iconography of Falon’Din, but that may be attributed to their “twin” nature, that must mean a lot more than the Dalish Tales grasp.

Still, for simplicity’s sake, I will keep saying for this particular post that the owl represents Dirthamen but keep in mind the fragile pieces of information we have about this symbol.

For more details about the relationship between Falon’Din and Dirthamen, check Humanoid Dirthamen, the two parts of The Lost Temple of Dirthamen, and Ancient Elven codices; The Lost Temple of Dirthamen.

------------------------------------------------------

Once we solve the puzzle with the very creepy Sitting Fen'Harel statue, we can read one of the most important codices in Trespasser: Veilfire Runes in the Deep Roads.

The inquisitor gives us a bit more of context: the Evanuris fought the Titans, mined their bodies for lyrium [which is a reinforcer of reality and shape that they may have used to develop a slavery system based on Vallaslins], and “something else”. This “something else” may represent some forbidden or ugly magical procedure [hence the presence of the owl statue as a symbol of secret but also arcane knowledge] .

With Cole's cryptic messages at the Winter Palace, we can suspect that the Evanuris began to create bodies from the earth, and used the Vallaslin based on lyrium as a way to "reinforce" shape onto their own kind, maybe bounding the elves into these bodies. Metaphorically, it is a similar process to the creation of Golems that has been explained to us in DAO, with Caridin's Journal. Both final creatures are slaves.

According to Cole’s cryptic line, we can infer that this may have the cause for the Titans to feel the need to fight the elvhenan back: the titans saw in the ability to create bodies of the elvhenan a danger or an abuse, while the Elvhenan felt threatened by the Titans due to the shakes their creation process caused in the elvhenan cities.

The veilfire brazier is located on the heart of the Titan, drawing all our attention to it. It has the same symbol that the orb held by the elvhen at the right. This asterisk symbol has appeared in other murals as well and I think it’s safe to associate it with the heart of a Titan thanks to this mural. It’s also where you put Veilfire. More details about this mural in Murals in DAI.

When we solve the puzzle, we obtain the Heart of Pride, a staff that, in my opinion, is not the one we see in most of Solas’ murals. The model for the Heart of Pride is a twisted branch with two dogs tied to it. Looks more Alamarri than elvhen in design.

The staff we see that Solas has [1, 3, 4] is more similar to a head of a Halla with strange, messy horns. The option [2] may not even represent Solas, as we discussed in Forgotten Sanctuary. 

The description of Heart of Pride doesn’t add anything extra. It’s in any case creepy: laughter of pride while Fade energy clings to the staff, as if an echo of creatures of pride, diluted in this Fade energy, were desperately trying to reach to this feeling that this staff gives to its user. We don’t even know if it’s elvhen-made.

#deep roads #dai trespasser #dlc #Playing DA like an archaeologist #solas #titan #Sitting Fen'Harel statue #Howling Fen'Harel statue #Elven Owl statue #Stone in Razikale-Ceremony-style #asterisk symbol #dwarven design #elvhen design

[calamity-writes]

In Glory & Gore - 6.2

Hanin watched Rahlen sat on the edge of the cot, turning the key over in his hands. Black iron, with glyphs etched into it's length that he recognized from reading Dagna's books that she had published. One of them was for protection, another lightning, but the others he wasn't sure of.

"The key she gave us," Rahlen said quietly. "It's for the collars." He ran his thumb over the iron. Because of this, because of a fucking haircut Polonius had sacrificed two people. Because the Master was too afraid of a small elf who had cut her hair. Tevinter's universal acceptance of magic might have made the bastards like Polonius weak, or lazy, but blood magic was powerful. The man might be lacking, but the spell Hanin had mentioned would not be.

Hanin sat on his own cot, listening to the Prince. Something was eating at the Ferelden, but Hanin wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't sure that Rahlen even knew what it was that was bothering him so much.

"We can't get her right now," Hanin said quietly. "I saw where she was, it's almost solid rock. There's two locks on it, at least one of them is magical."

"So, what, we just leave her there?" Rahlen asked, scowling up at him. Hanin shrugged a shoulder.

"No, we just have to figure out how to do it right," he pointed out. "So we don't fuck up and make this worse for us, or for her. We won't be able to do anything if we're all locked up separately, or sacrificed to cast a spell on her." He could still see the red spray coating Fenlin, could still hear the cooing Master, still taste the heady levels of power in that room. If only he'd tried to cast a spell, the blood might have broken the collar, might have saved all of them.

But he hadn't. He'd been afraid he might die, a useless, lost death in the cellar of a Tevinter Mage who had an unhealthy fixation on a dalish girl. And being afraid, he'd let the opportunity pass. Fenlin hadn't. She'd tried to throw herself between them, shackled and tied to the ground, covered in blood, she'd still tried to stop Polonius.

Half-forgotten memories of reading old reports detailing the adventures of the Inquisition at it's height. Reports of an agent named Ghost removing difficult obstacles. Fenlin's mother, running suicide missions for his own. Bitterly, Hanin wondered if his own mother had ever shown Fenlin's appreciation, validation, or if she'd always just taken her people for granted, froze them out, like she did her son.

Arguments between his mother and Leliana were calm, cold, but he remembered how there had always been a point of contention. Leliana had refused to tell his mother where Ghost had gone. The Inquisitor had been furious. Called Leliana's loyalty into question, but the spymaster had never once budged from her position. But... why? Had Fenlin's mother also saved Leliana, the way Fenlin had saved Rahlen? What about those women inspired such devotion?

"This is bullshit," Rahlen muttered, pulling Hanin from his thoughts. The elf watched the Prince run his hands over his face, scrubbing at his eyes.

"What is?" Hanin asked.

"My mother would have broken out of here by now. Hell, in doing so, she'd have raised half Tevinter to fight next to her."

"You're not alone on that front," Hanin admitted. "If my mother was here..." He trailed off, frowning. He wasn't sure what she would do. She'd survived so many impossible events, but they had all been violent cataclysms. What if the Venatori had just locked her up, with an anti-magic collar on her? Would she be able to do any better than Hanin was?

"Well, she has- had- an army," Hanin said after a moment. "I suppose that would make any imprisonment academic." He shook his head, looking down at his palms. There was no magic mark there, no easy way to break down the walls and free himself or his friends. Hanin blinked, wondering when that had happened.

Friends.

Fuck.

"We'll get everyone out," he promised Rahlen, hoping desperately it wasn't a lie. "Spar with Athim tomorrow, try to talk to him about what we can do. I'll..." he bit his words back as the sound of guards marching down the hall announced they were no longer safe to discuss that topic.

Hanin watched as two of the larger guards stopped at their door.

"Ferelden, you've been summoned." Rahlen looked at Hanin but the elf could only shrug. Had they found out about the key? Was this about healing the remaining damage to Rahlen's leg? Hanin watched as Rahlen left with the guards, grim faced.

Lying back onto the cot, Hanin draped an arm over his eyes. He was too tired to stay awake but too nervous to relax. Where were they taking Rahlen? Were they going to use blood magic on all of them, just to keep the fighters in line? Worse, what if they sacrificed Rahlen? Or-

Hanin slipped from worry into sleep without noticing. The cot was a raft, floating on an ocean of still-hot blood. In the distance he could see a massive shape with many glowing eyes lift it's shaggy head and sniff the air. It let out an unnerving howl, loud enough to send the blood-sea trembling with droplets falling upwards in fast globules of red.

Before the blood-rain grew too thick to see through, the wolf turned it's massive head, and all six of it's green eyes bore into Hanin's soul.

Fen'Harel walked in Tevinter.

**

The Demon's touch and voice were liquid, trailing lazy whorls over skin that was still tacky from congealed blood, occasionally pausing to lick at the slender neck by it's fangs.

Fenlin's eyes were closed, her breath shaky as she forced herself to hold still, pushing Desire's intrusive thoughts back. The metal cuffs around her ankles and wrists helped to remind her that the mouth on her neck wasn't Rahlen's, and the hands on her shoulders weren't Athim's.

"Don't deny yourself what you want, elfling," Desire purred into her ear. "They men you care for do not. You have seen yourself that the Prince and Heir please themselves how they want. There is no wrong in enjoying one's self."

Fenlin wanted to speak, she wanted to tell the Demon to fuck off, that she looked forward to sending it back across the veil, or better, killing it when she was freed. But her voice was gone, and so too was her ability to cross Polonius. Killing his pet demon would make him angry. It would be //misbehaving// and she couldn't do that.

Not anymore.

The sound of the door opening was a welcome relief from the Demon's attention, and Fenlin looked up to see Polonius walk in, dressed in the finery he'd worn the night she'd fought Athim.

"Darling," he said softly, as though he was surprised to find her there, in such disarray. Fenlin lifted her head, and with two long strides, Polonius stood in front of her, cupping her cheeks and brushing away flaking blood from under her eyes. "You've been so good. I'm sorry you made me so angry." Fenlin was sorry too, and she hated it.

The demon purred, winding around them in purple trails of smoke. Each tendril that brushed over her skin made Fenlin shiver, and Polonius smiled. That made her tremble, the warring feelings of relief, pleasure and hatred mixing in her chest.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Polonius said. "You have quite a night ahead of you." He leaned down, pressing a light kiss on her bloody lips. Fenlin felt her entire body shiver, and her lips parted as Polonius pulled back. He gestured to the door, and Fenlin realised Favus and a handful of villa-slaves waited there, dressed in sheer silks.

Favus walked over, grimfaced. Crouching behind her, Fenlin felt the Templar undo her shackles. When he hauled her to her feet, they were numbed from Fenlin being left in that position for so long. She stumbled, and the Templar hoisted her up by the back of her vest.

"You should have let me have you," Favus muttered under his breath. "Now look at what's happened." What bothered Fenlin the most about his words though, was how sad they sounded. Once she was able to walk under her own power, the Templar let go of her and followed behind Fenlin as the silk slaves led her to a room with a large bath and various toiletries.

The water was refreshingly in the heat of the day, and Fenlin closed her eyes as she sank into the water, grateful that it was cool, unlike the hot blood she'd been bathed in earlier. Favus waited outside the door which had been left ever so slightly open. The other slaves batted Fenlin's hands away, scrubbing out the dirt and sweat and blood from her pores. They tsked at her hair, lathering it with soap that smelled of lavender and spice. Only when she was clean, scrubbed bright and skin tingling, was Fenlin allowed to step out from the bath. 

"Your skin is so beautiful," one of them murmured. "Not even a scratch on it."

Fenlin frowned, looking down at her arms. They'd been covered with small scars, some from falling on rocks as a child, others from training with knives. There was even one where the Fennec had bit her when she tried to pat it.

Gone. Everywhere the blood had covered, her skin was now pristine, glowing golden. The slaves sat her on a stool, towelling her dry with soft cotton. After the towels came some sort of cream that smelled of warmth and spice that the slaves rubbed into Fenlin's skin. She noticed it was pigmented, leaving behind golden dust that glimmered, turning her into a living statue.

One of the other slaves trimmed the hack job of her hair, careful to not let any strands of white fall into the drying paint on her skin. Finally, Fenlin was given some water and fruit,

"She's awful quiet," one of them whispered.

"Mute," another said. "Poor thing." Fenlin closed her eyes, letting them do what work they had to. She wanted to scream, to push them away, but her muscles refused to do so. So she sat until they told her to stand so that they could dress her. First came chains and baubles, a golden necklace that had chains trail low to cross over her belly and link at the back. Next came beaded silks in the greens and blues of a pond back home that she used to swim in. But the tears that pricked at her eyes were held back. Crying now would ruin the paint the villa slaves had applied. And that would be misbehaving.

Finally, they affixed the mask and veils. Fenlin didn't understand what they were doing, or why. The mask was beautiful, carved and detailed, porcelain white with golden boughs of leaves and twigs crowning her head.

The slaves stood back, looking at Fenlin who stood barefoot in the middle of the room. One pressed her lips together, then slipped away to let Favus know that they were ready.

Ready for what? A knot of dread was tightening in her belly. Fenlin felt like a calf being trussed for slaughter, and she wondered if this would be her final night on this side of the veil. Would death be quiet? Would it be calm? Would it be a relief after the last few weeks of walking the sands of Tevinter?

Favus stared at her for a moment, before motioning her to follow. Fen took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, then followed. He led her to the courtyard, dressed with torches that burnt gold in the night. On one end of the courtyard there was a raised dias that was strewn with pillows. Above it grew a trellis of vines, heavy flowers thick and sweet hung from the vines, filling the air with a honey-like sweetness. Silk veils draped along the trellis, billowing in the night breeze.

Hooded figures stood in a semi circle around the dias, faces shadowed and hands clasped in front of them. Her mind was growing soft and fuzzy, and Fenlin realised something must have been in the water. Calf to slaughter, that's exactly what this was, she thought.

"Lady Mythal," Polonius said, the only one with the hood of his robes pushed back to bare his face. "Please, we welcome you to our humble home. You grace us."

Fenlin's mind was struggling to keep up. Mythal? They- they were going to kill Mythal? Bastards. She was already dead, twice if Lady Morrigan's story was true. But even as her mind tried to piece together the situation, Fenlin's legs betrayed her, carrying her forward across flag stones to stand in front of Polonius. He held his hand out, and she took it delicately, her golden-shimmer fingers laden with rings that sparkled in the light.

"My lady," Polonius said, voice pitched loudly enough for the gathered figures to hear. "We welcome and treasure you, but I am afraid that we must ask more from you than just your presence."

Death. This was how she died, Fenlin thought, staring at the courtyard with it's shadowed vints. Dressed up and painted gold, for some stupid ceremony.

"We claim your power, your knowledge. Your very being," Polonius said. He lifted the hand that did not hold hers, and the torches snuffed out all at once. "We gift you, body and soul to our God, that he might rise again." One by one, the torches along the courtyard reignited, the flames now blue. Not the green of veilfire, but a true, alchemical blue. They were beautiful, Fenlin thought. If that was the last thing she had to see.

But there was another figure, striding forward, cutting through a path in the gathered figures. Tall, dressed in black and silver that glimmered like scales in the torchlight. He too wore a mask, this one twisted and dark, the horns of a dragon curling out from his head. It seemed as though the very ground shook with each step the dragon took. Fenlin tried to step back, but Polonius tightened his grip, holding her in place.

"We offer you to Dumat, God of Silence, God struck down unjustly during the first Blight."

Dumat stopped just in front of Fenlin, and her heart was hammering so hard, she was sure the demon-god would hear it. Polonius Passed her hand to Dumat, offering it wrist up. When Dumat took it, Fenlin was sure his touch was fire, burning her skin.

"We bind this goddess to you, Great one," Polonius said, gesturing towards one of the robed watchers. The figure bowed and approached with a golden chalice and a small obsidian blade. "We offer this goddess of the ancients to you."

Polonius cut along Fenlin's palm and held the cut over the chalice, letting the red blood drip into the cup. The robed mages -they had to be mages- had started to hum, a low chant that seemed to force Fenlin's heart to beat in time  with it.

"We offer her to you so that you might consume her, body, soul, power, and voice so that you may once more take your rightful place in the Black City."

Dumat offered his hand, palm up. Like with Fenlin's, Polonius cut along the god's palm, and Fenlin was sure that the blood that spilled out steamed as it fell into the chalice. Was that the drugged water? Or was this some abomination that she was going to be sacrificed to? And why?

Dumat took her hand, pressing the cut palms together with a ferocity that Made Fenlin wince.

Polonius was chanting something, but Fenlin was trapped by the silver eyes that shone from behind the Dragon mask. When the chalice was pressed to the slit of her mask, she had no choice but to swallow the mouthful of wine and blood that poured through the slit of Mythal's lips. It burned her throat, made her eyes water. And she watched as the chalice was offered to Dumat, the Archdemon was allowed to sip at his own leisure.

He drained the cup, holding it out to Polonius when he had finished. As she watched, Fenlin felt the heat of mixture spread through her body like wildfire on a dry grass plain. Her heart was hammering now, her breath catching as her palm throbbed against the cut on his.

"Great one, Master of Silence," Polonius said, bowing "She is yours."

Dumat shrugged off the heavy cloak, letting it fall to the flagstones below. He too was painted, black and silver scales over skin now bared to the night air. Fenlin watched steam curl from his mask as he tore the veil from her, splitting it in two so it fell to either side of her. His hands, so large and strong, grabbed her around the waist and tossed her back onto the dias.

One of his hands held down her arms, the other slid up her waist, leaving behind a trail of heat on her skin. His snout- the mask, pressed into the hollow of her neck, and she could smell the smoke and musk on this skin as he breathed in her spice.

This... this was a very different kind of blood magic, Fenlin realised through a thickening fog of heartbeats, fire and lust. An old, old magic that was too powerful to stop now. Even if she'd wanted to.

Silks tore under the old God's hands until she was bare to him, wearing only paint and golden chains. The chains that would bind her to him, she realised. Even still, her head tilted back, and her body arched as he pulled her to him.

#cw: mind control #cw: conditioning #in glory & gore #Fenlin #Rahlen #Hanin #things are....heating up.... you might say

[ace--jace]

Listen I know Fen'Harel is depicted as a regal wolf in all the statues but like gimme demonic Fen'Harel, glowing eyes, slavering jaws, gigantic teeth, more eyes than can be counted, clicking nails upon a tiled floor, the rumbling growl, a shrieking howl Give me a frightening Fen'Harel please; give me a Fen'Harel wolf form to fear... Give me a wolf form that compliments the frightening Solas from the Trespasser DLC, give me a Fenrir inspired Fen'Harel, give me a Fen'Harel that strikes fear into anyone who views him...

#ajpersonal #elven god husband #...ahhhh shit ive got a fic idea

[afleetingimpressixn]

A note before I begin: I find myself associating some of my faerie ocs with animals... Pretty often. Obviously Luneta is a deer ( more specifically, a fawn ), but in addition to her, Oberon is a stag, Kestral is a bear, and Titania is a wolf.

I've brought up before that Oberon is afraid of wolves in his Thedas au, and previously blamed it simply on his fear of Fen'harel - which, yeah, that's still how ot began. But then I realized Titania's association with wolves could carry over pretty nicely, and, well....

Oberon has been afraid of wolves since he was a child. To my knowledge, the Dalish fear Fen'harel in general, but they are moreso wary of the danger he represents, rather than terrified of him.

Oberon, though... He's terrified of him. When he was a child, the stories he was told scared him, and he began having nightmares involving wolves chasing him. As the dreams evolved, the animals more and more resembled the statues overlooking Elven settlements, and the descriptions of Fen'harel in the stories - they had stony white skin and glowing green eyes to go with their big, snarling teeth.

As Oberon got older, though, he outgrew his fear. He was a confident young adult, got married, had children. He and Titania were apprentices to their keeper. Their lives were peaceful and good.

It only took a few years for all of that to change. Suddenly, Titania was gone, his youngest child was dead, and he was exiled from his clan.

After his exile was when the nightmares returned. He wandered, alone, for years, plagued by nightmares while struggling to survive. The wolves in his dreams no longer represented Fen'harel. They had his wife's eyes, his wife's voice. Her screams joined their howls, and he could not escape them. The dreams twisted Titania's memories into something awful and terrifying, and its difficult for Oberon to even think of her anymore.

#long post #oberon;; #dragon age au #help im too dedicated to this au #also..... titania has green eyes #oberon genuinely does not know what happened to her but he feels immense guilt and loss regardless #her disappearance marked the day his life began changing for the worse #ooc #meta

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Just a Dream...

I’ve been wanting to post some of my stuff on here for awhile and I thought this little thing would be a good start. 

Aeva Lavellan x Solas

A Walk Through the Forrest

The land is green. The trees are not wanting. They reach to the sky. Their branches show blossoms. Their trunks are wide. She wanders among them. Her hands are stretched across. She has never witnessed such greenery. Flower petals touch her fingertips. Stems graze her palms. The sunlight skims her wrists. The songs of birds and the chatter of fennecs echo through the trees.

Everything Falls Silent

But then all falls still. Her footsteps cease. The air grows thin. The temperature falls. There is a sudden breeze. It brings grey clouds and a stench she is familiar with. The word leaves her and she cannot remember precisely the thought she seeks. Trying to grasp it, she ventures forward, hoping the smell will trigger a memory. It does. And the image becomes clearer. An image of tooth and claw. An image of blood. An image of thick fur and a haunting voice.

The Wolves are Stray

The Wolves. She will not fall back. Not now. They know she is present and they will turn on her. Their fur is not black like the ones back home. They are white. They are white and stained with blood. One lifts his giant head and his yellow eyes pierce straight through hers. The wolf licks his lips before lowering his head. She cannot look any longer. The pool of blood rippling beneath them made her stomach churn. The sound of their teeth gnashing against the innards made her head ache. A sudden crunch sounded as a wolf shook his head and a leg detached from the body. A gasp escaped her lips. And the wolves all lifted their gaze.

Feeding on the Innocent

She saw beneath them was once a creature of light grey fur. It would have been unrecognizable if it were not for the horns. The wolves were feeding on a halla. Terror took over as her body turned cold. The hair on her skin rose, but her wits became about her. And she remembered where she was. The wolves would not venture into the forest for a halla. They remain in the plain where the larger heards are known to graze. For a pack of this number to take down a large, stronger member of a heard would mean the wolves would have to be cunning. They would have to be...

Their Leader Rises

Their leader steps forward. But their leader is no animal. The alpha rises on two legs. And his face is familiar. Breathing becomes more difficult as she watched his shoulders flex. Her fists clench tightly, digging into the palms of her hands. He is dressed in white clothing, embroidered in gold. His brow is stern, just as before. But his eyes are cold. And his lips...

A Mouth Full of Blood

His lips are covered in blood. The pack proceeds to ignore her, resuming their meal without the lack of crunching as they enjoyed their fast. But he... he gazes at her. He watches for her reaction. Though there was none, she still felt him pry. He lifts his hand to his jaw and guides down the line until he reaches his mouth. He uses his hand to wipe blood. But he only smears it.

A Smile Filled with Pride

And then he smiles. He smiles so wickedly, so perversely, she let's out a horrifying. Not of fear, but of anger. Only the beginnings of it make it out of her mouth. She feels she can hear it. But the only thing she truly feels is the darkness surrounding her as she falls through the earth. And the only she sees is hid red smile with an echo of a howl in the distance.

She is Bathed in Regret

Falling back into a tangent place, she finds herself in a bath. Without truly knowing what has awakened her from her dream state, she grasps the edge to pull herself free. But she cannot. The water she was soaked in felt thick. It felt warm. It felt wrong. An awareness enlightens her senses, and as he vision clears, she can see that blood surrounds her. Recalling the scene from before, she swallows the start of a scream.

Surrounded by Emptiness

Then they appeared. Men and women of the Inquisition come drifting from the shadows to her side. They are all dressed in uniform, or else she would not even know who they were. Some she knows by name... but these followers... have no face. She cries out, but like before, only the first bit escapes. They reach to their sides and bring up a wooden buckets with a jingle inside. The buckets are emptied into her tub. And golden coins fall onto her body.

The Weight of Gold

The blood rocks back and forth, spilling onto the floor. She can taste it in her mouth. Feel it burning her eyes. The weight is crushing. She can feel her spine pressing into the bottom of the porcelain tub. She scratches at the side, but to no avail. The treasury will drown her. And her comrades will watch. Thrashing about, she hopes to shake loose. But the relief of pressure does not come from above. It comes below.

A Sound of Resolution

The tub cracks, pulling her through to wherever she must go next. The gold disappears and for a moment, her body is weightless. And then it is cold. So terribly cold. The darkness brightens, but the light is so bright. Her eyes sting from the sudden burst and her body falls almost numb. She gathers her courage to rise from the broken tub. There is no blood but once again, there is the color of white. The color of snow.

An Answer on the Horizon

As her eyes adjust, she can make out something in the distance. It is grey, only slightly darker than the landscape. She moves towards it, the only thing she has to fixate her eyes upon. The only destination. As she draws closer, she knows the shape. The shape of a wolf. But this is a sight she has already seen. Tears fill her eyes. Should she be frightened? Because this is not what she felt. Only sadness. Only anger. Only the realization. Fen'Harel was watching.

The Shrine of Fen'Harel

Ruins suddenly began to appear around her. She does not recognize them. Or this feeling they gave. Emotions suddenly faded as she held her breath. They were replaced a desire. A need. She did not worry that the Betrayer would take her. No... she begged. She prayed silently because she could not speak. She prayed as she reached out with her bare hand. She prayed as she felt her fingertips graze across the wolf's mouth.

The Dread Wolf Howls

Hearing her lament, his eyes burst open. Not only the two, but several more across his twisted face, all burning with red flame. They all turned down to her, witnessing the elf for what she truly was. They judged her. Knew her crimes. Knew her to the very core. She fell to her knees, her body tensing with guilt and rage. This was her fault.

She Feels His Hands of Mercy

There is a sudden warmth across her chest. Two hands creep up to the tops of her shoulders. They pull her hard, into something solid. Something warm. It took away the fear. The cold. The hatred. It brought the comfort. Forgiveness. And she could smell something that she knew very well. It was sweet, but strange. Like an incense in a shop she had browsed in long ago. It was ancient. But it was new, like a parchment unrolled for the first time. It was Solas.

Of Love and Comfort

The statue disappeared, leaving a black abyss surrounding them. She pushed back, shoving him away. He did not belong. He was no help to her. She wanted to tell him, to shout. But there was nothing that would come from her lips. The look on his face told her that he was aware of how she felt. But it wasn't enough. She screamed. And though she couldn't hear it, she could feel the depths of her soul flaming in her belly as she let out a silent roar.

Ma Vhenan ...

But his words were clear. They were so sharp in her ear that she swore she heard them on the edge of the bed. She shot up, the sensation of his breath on her earlobe bringing her heart to an alarming rate. There was no one there. There was only the light of the stars and the moon. The sound of the breeze nestling up to the slightly cracked window in the far end of the room. But there was taste of blood in her mouth from where she bit her lip in her sleep. She wondered who exactly had visited her that night...

#solas #dragon age #DAI #Aeva Lavellan #Solavallan #just a dream #long post #fen'harel #dragon age fanfiction #dragonswithjetpacksao3 #aeva writing tag #dwjp writing tag

[lairofdragonagelore]

Somewhere[DLC Trespasser]: Elven Ruins

These Elven Ruins are a massive, isolated city from the time of Elvhenan. Nothing is known about these ruins; they seem to be ancient and are adorned with a large number of statues and mosaics dedicated to Fen'Harel mostly. In fact it looks like a city in his honour but also a city he protected/guarded. It’s not clear if this is a pocket space or part of Thedas. By the amount of eluvians found in here, one may suspects it was a Nexus of eluvians. 

This are is composed of

Overgrown Path

Gully

Long Bridge

Shrine to the Dread Wolf

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

Overgrown Path and Gully

Through the Darvaarad  we access to this new space. So far we see, it’s an enormous, mysterious elvhen city in the middle of a range of mountains, evidently only accessible through eluvians. It’s not clear if it belongs to the Waking World or a pocket space in the in-between. What stands out from afar is a gigantic eluvian in the middle of the city, which destiny we don’t know.

The city is decorated with many abandoned/decayed mosaics that are almost impossible to distinguish. I assume this gives us the idea that this place belongs to the Waking World, since in any other place it would have been preserved naturally due to the remnants of Fade magic at work [read the section Preservation of the Waking World in Miscellaneous].  After some careful overlapping, I can assure these old, decaying mosaics are Fen’Harel’s. 

It’s curious that the mosaic is presented in the same shape that the gate frames we saw in the Temple of Mythal. They are associated with her dragon shape. Since these mosaics are presented with the same shape, I wonder if this abandoned elven city is an equivalent to a “Temple of Fen’Harel”, but instead of having servants to protect it and take care of it [like Abelas], it was an empty Nexus to offer paths to the People. 

This shape also appears in the big yellow mosaic of most temples. Maybe this kind of shape for temple gates represents “nexus of eluvians”, since the eluvians with some decorations have a similar outline. One may argue that the The Temple of Mythal was not a nexus, but it certainly had a series of eluvians around the Well of Sorrow. 

This place shows elvhenan patterns in all its structures; clearly an elvhenan city in the middle of the mountains, filled with statues of Sitting Fen'Harels and Howling Fen'Harels. The majority of these statues are displayed in pairs, and in positions of “guardian”, not as central figures in any chamber. In general, we have the idea that every corner of this city was watched and protected by Fen’Harel. 

When we reach to this point, having seen the amount of eluvians we did, we begin to suspect this was a Nexus city. So far, we only visited one of these in The Masked Empire, and in that case it was more related to burials and tombs. This place has not shown any sarcophagi or death-related item in all my exploration. 

There are also Elven Archers and Elven hart statues. Again, these statues cannot be strongly associated with the rest of the Evanuris, since I don't think they would show up in a city like this, with such a strong presence of Fen'Harel. Another extremely curious detail of this city: it has no elvhen paintings. I mean, there is none of the paintings already commented in  Nation Art: Elvhen, which usually are present in all the Temples and elvhenan buildings we visited, including the Temple of Mythal. 

At the Gully, we meet Saarath, the ex scholar who became Saarebas as an adult, which letter to Tallis can be read in the Research Tower. Now we find him as a living experiment with lyrium.

Long Bridge

As we keep exploring this confusing and enormous place, we find a single Elven Owl statue along the main bridge of the city [a bridge that only connects two eluvians]

The imposing figure of Howling Fen'Harel statues while the path is guided by  Elven hart statues or Elven Archers.

The path towards Solas is filled with petrified Qunari. 

Cole comments about Solas’ feelings. Again, we are confirmed for n-th time that Solas is not a monster.

Shrine to the Dread Wolf

We reach to a place called “Shrine” to the Dread Wolf, not Temple. Temples and Shrines are both sacred places, but there is some differences between them: 

A shrine often refers to a church or an altar sacred to a saint or a holy person. It is a holy place connected with the life and beliefs of such person. The word shrine often is called as a ‘tomb’ too, so a shrine may also refer to the place where a holy person was buried. The word has attained importance and significance in the historical point of view. It is a more private space.

A temple refers to a sacred place for the believers of any given form of religion. It is a place that the believers accept as the abode of the god. It is a place of more public display.

 There are Howling Fen'Harel statues and Elven Archers all over the shrine, guiding us.

The whole city displays the same banner that we saw in the Temple of Mythal: this brown flag with different points in groups and a flower associated with each group.

We finally reach Solas, seeing a path filled with petrified Qunari. We see he does it without even casting, or seeing; with the same effect that we saw Flemeth displayed when she controlled the Drinker of the Well [The Fade - Flemeth: Part 2].

The same effect is used in his eyes when he stops the Anchor from killing the Inquisitor, giving them time to talk. Things we learn with his last conversation:

He always knew how to control the Anchor because it is his own orb, which accumulated energy. He was only weak from his slumber to do it properly. Now he can because “he is stronger” after the absorption of Mythal’s accumulated power.

He was Solas in the beginning of the days. Fen’Harel is a title that came later, earned as an insult from his enemies [Evanuris] that he took with pride. This title inspired hope in friends and fear in enemies.

This is a parallel/reflection with the Inquisitor, where the legend of the title eats up the person: a title that erases the personal name and attaches a divinity that, it seems, the person has been rejecting since the beginning.

Solas is not like Flemeth, he is not a “piece” of Fen’Harel. He is how he has always been.

He freed his people from slavery of the Evanuris and let them join his resistance.

When the Evanuris “went too far”; he created the Veil and banished them forever.  He doesn’t say how.

The cause for this measure [he says before a suspicious chuckle] was the death of Mythal. We know thanks to the Mural “the Death of a Titan” that there is more to it. But he keeps it as a secret; he wants that knowledge to be forgotten for safety reasons, so nobody else is tempted to use it.

To banish the Evanuris and create the Veil, he had to take part of the elvhen nature and remove it from his people. Elvhen began to age thanks to this process. 

He speaks about Mythal as the best of the Evanuris: she cared for her people, protected them, and was reasonable.

The Evanuris wanted more power so they killed her. This may imply that Mythal had a special nature [like I said in Evanuris, she is the only mosaic that shows a halo behind her head] or she knew about the secret of divinity/power from a Titan's heart, according the mural.

Despite his love for the Fade, Solas created the Veil because there was no other way, since what the Evanuris released was meant to destroy the world. This confirms some of the interpretations of the structure of the World talked in Murals in DAI: Basics, where the Veil seems to contain another darker sphere or a red sphere, with an unknown danger in it.

There is a difference between banishment and death. Apparently Solas implies that the Evanuris cannot be killed. I wonder if this is related to some “effective immortality” similar to the one displayed by Corypheus. When he saw that power at work, he was not surprised of the procedure per se, he even gave us a name for it [effective immortality]. He only seemed surprised that a Magister could use it. We know through Hakkon DLC and via the Avvar that the spirits are reborn after dying but change in the process. The Evanuris may have a similar system, but apparently, they do not change as it is expected from spirits. Maybe because they have this system of effective immortality?

A curious wording: I’m not sure if he speaks of Mythal in particular or the  the Evanuris in general: “The first of my people”. This would represent a small difference in nature between “Solas’ people” and the Evanuris. And what means “first”. First because a magical hierarchy or first because the first alive creatures in the beginning of the world?

Solas explains how the Evanuris turned into Gods: it started with a War [probably the one related to the Titans]. The fear of war breeds a desire for simplicity, for seeings things in black and white. With the end of the war [probably when Elgar’nan and Mythal killed those titans we read in codices and saw in the mural] the generals became respected elders, then kings, and finally Gods.

The Shattered Library was intrinsically tied to the Fade. Many other places tied to Fade were destroyed when he created the Veil.

Solas confirms that the process of quickening that suffered the Elvhen was not due to the presence of humans, but the creation of the Veil. It seems to be that the Veil feeds from the nature of the elves to sustain itself.

Then, Solas explains his time after the creations of the Veil:

He went to slumber, dreaming in the Fade after the creation of the Veil since it had weakened him severely. I like to highlight that Solas always speaks of slumber, and never of Uthenera, even when he met Flemeth.

He woke up a year before the Breach, which means, Solas has been slumbering for millennia. This removes any possibility of seeing Solas as part of any other event in the history of Thedas. He probably may have stayed informed of the events in the Waking World using agents and spirits, since it’s clear he had communication with his agents despite his slumber.

He wants to restore his people to their real nature. This has to do with Solas seeing elves in the present almost like “tranquils”. There is an emphasis that Solas does not see Thedosians as people for this reason, and I cannot avoid linking this situation with the codex Old Elven Writing, where dwarves are considered witless, soulless, and the reason for that may be due to their disconnection to the Fade as well. 

He also explains in other alternative conversations that Skyhold was once his.

We also learn that he instructed his agents to give information to Corypheus to locate the orb. The idea was for him to unlock it and die in the process.

The orb had built up energy while he was slumbering, and he needed a powerful mage to unlock it. He could not do it himself because he was weak, he repeats.

If the plan would have worked as Solas intended, then he would have had the orb and would have used its power to destroy the Veil.

With the Veil gone, it is implied that the Evanuris will be free.

Solas confirms that he was never the romanticised figure that his mosaics in Fen’Harel’s mountain ruins claim him to be. A rebel gets his hands bloody whether they like it or not.

He shares his sadness and frustration of waking up in a world where everyone else feels like a tranquil. He sacrificed the Veil, and the nature of his people, to give them freedom. And the truth is, that he severed them from the Fade. He made them victims of these limitations, suffering ageing and, in the end, a secondary slavery at the hands of Tevinter. Nothing of what he had planned went as he wanted. His people was free from the Evanuris to find new slavers in the Humans and lose so much of their History that they ended up worshipping the original cruel slavers and their tools of slavery.

With a romanced Inquisitor, Solas even feels pain that his name Fen’Harel has become an insult and a curse among the Dalish.

Solas recognises to have used people to reach his goals in his time of a Rebel.

Here, Solas repeats that he is not a monster. He feels he has a duty towards his people to restore them, but knowing that will destroy this world doesn’t make it easier, but he will endure the regret. Until that moment, he wants for the people in Thedas to have a peaceful and comfortable life. That’s why he helped the Inquisition against the Qunari invasion.

Now he controls the network of eluvians. He talks about Felassan as an agent who “failed” in getting the password from Briala, previous owner of the network [which technically is true, although the situation is quite more complex than this as I showed it in The Masked Empire]. Solas ended up overriding the magic in them to take control of the network.

Curiously, the Qunari managed to have access to the network independently, despite the terrible work procedures they displayed when we visited their isle.

More information about this will be in the post called “Solas sharing Lore”.

As a detail, Solas is walking us to an enormous eluvian, which is bigger than then one he was in front of when he absorbed Flemeth.

After that long conversation, we return to the Winter Palace, the Inquisitor loses their hand, and we can decide if the Inquisition is dissolved or continues existing under the command of the Chantry. This is the set up for the next Game DA:D.

#dai trespasser #dlc #Playing DA like an archaeologist #eluvian #elvhenan #elvhenan design #Sitting Fen'Harel statue #Howling Fen'Harel statue #Elven Archers #Elven hart statue #Elven Owl statue #saarebas #solas