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lairofdragonagelore · 1 year

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Arbor Wilds: Temple of Mythal - Part 3

Main Quest: What Pride Had Wrought

The Temple of Mythal was a place of justice, where petitioners walked religious rites of passage in order to have their pleas for justice heard by Mythal. According to some, it is also the site of some mysterious religious artefact called the vir'abelasan.

This post contains the following sections

Entrance to the Temple

The Rituals

Ancient Crypts: Red Templar's way

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

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

Entrance to the Temple

The entrance to the temple is enormous. Its door is waiting for activation via the rituals/puzzles. At its sides there are two gigantic, decayed mosaics of Mythal. In the small corridor of the door, there are four Dragon Myhtal statues. In the corridor, we find this curious vallaslin ink object that we had only seen it before in the The Lost Temple of Dirthamen.

The Rituals [Puzzles]

In this post, Diirthata-ma shows the name of the game files [I’m unable to have access to these by myself] which represent the puzzles. I thought it could potentially give us some hints about the statues used in them. So, the name of these ritual I use here were given by the game files.

Elgar'nan Ritual

The first puzzle, the easiest and shortest one, is named Elgar'nan ritual. It's decorated with archer statues [that by now I suspect we can consider them as Shadow Sentinels], and on a rail of one of the stairs that lead to the puzzle, we find a small Red inuksuk. So far, I still keep the interpretation that these objects are related to sacrifice and blood.

The entryway to this puzzle is decorated with a Sylaise's golden mosaic. I feel this is very fitting, since Elgar'nan is fury of great power [read the codices in the Temple of Mythal and in Vir Dirthara related to him] while Sylaise is as brutal as him considering the only non-Dalish codex we have: Song to Sylaise. Both figures are entities of fury, fire, and wrath in some degree. Sylaise seems to be a bit envious or competitive even.

Fen'Harel's ritual

The second puzzle, with a lever, is Fen'Harel's ritual. It’s a puzzle with two potential interpretations: One, ironically, is that this puzzle needs you to be trapped in order to solve it [as a meaning to represent how he sealed the others gods, including himself (Cole says the wold chew his own leg to escape), to save the world], probably a poetic twist implemented by the Devs than something that the original Elvehan would have considered in the creation of this ritual. Another interpretation [more in-game and more “Evanuris”] is that this is the trickiest puzzle because the lever, and thus it represents Fen’Harel in the sense that you need cunning to solve it. [Unlike what wiki says, you don’t need to fail first to solve it. It has several different ways to be solved without failing it, it’s just a matter of tricks.]

To no one's surprise, it has several statues of Fen'Harel, in sitting and howling position.

Dirthamen's ritual

This is the longest one, which needs you to jump across different levels of the puzzle. It starts in the part of the chamber decorated with Elven Owl statues, and finishes in the one decorated with Elven hart statues. Due to the fact this is a puzzle that represents Dirthamen, gods of knowledge and secrets, it seems to present a duality [owl and hart] as usually Dirthamen/Falon’Din seem to exist in the iconography.

That the owl is present here, seems to have some reason: we have read in the game a codex saying that the owl could be considered the messenger animal of Dirthamen [as well of Andruil], but the hart seems to be a curious association. We know that the unreliable Dalish Tales relate hart figures with Ghilan’nain [for example, Ameridan did it in the DLC], and in the The Lost Temple of Dirthamen (Part 2), we find a red mosaic of Ghilan’nain [this association a bit more trustworthy]. In the codex Ancient Elven Writing [detailed and analysed in Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal], there is a subtle relationship between Ghilan’nain and a servant of Dirthamen.

Therefore, Dirthamen and Ghilan’nain may have had some particular kind of relationship which is not clear to define with the information we have in game. It could have been an alliance or a rivalry of some kind. Honestly, considering Dirthamen’s dual existence with Falon’Din, I would have expected this puzzle to have more visuals of Falon’Din, as all things related to Dirthamen have and vice-versa.

The entryway to Dirthamen’s puzzle is decorated with June's golden mosaic, which triggers the codex The Mystery of June, detailed and analysed in Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal.

The only reason I can find to explain why two of these puzzles have entryways with mosaics of June and Sylaise, is because both of them have a portfolio of crafting in common. In the codices Vir Dirthara: Raising the Sonallium and in Song to Sylaise [detailed in Ancient Elven codices; Vir Dirthara and in Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal] we can see that Sylaise is also dedicated to some aspect of the arts of crafting or related to architecture. Both of them may have been responsible of the construction of many of these buildings, in my opinion.

Once the puzzles are finished, the main door to the temple glows in blue and we are granted the access to the Petitioning Chamber.

Ancient Crypts: Red Templar's way

If we follow the hole on the ground left by the Red Templars, we have access to something that the game names “Ancient Crypts”. When we ask Morrigan’s opinion on this place, she says that it looks more like a fortress than a Temple.

The crypts present the most creepy murals from the post Nation Art: Elvhen

This place has decorations and structures similar to Dirthamen’s Temple or in general, similar to any elvhen crypt [like Dinan’Hanin]. As all elvhenan crypts, they are made with rough stones, and less decorated door frames and arcs.

The walls have these typical paintings. The only one I didn’t find is the Armoured figure from Nation Art: Elvhen. We even find these reptilian drawings in the Temple of Mythal. This repetition in so many elvhen places makes me consider this as part of a lore we don’t understand yet, and not just a Bioware joke about krogans.

From dozen and dozen of screenshots we see most of the object we have seen in crypt-like scenarios like the Lost Temple of Dirthamen: different inuksuit, urns, Elvhen funerary lid, generic dead bodies, and some Red inuksuk [I kept this cute one, so small].

It’s in the crypts where we find Untranslatable Elven Writing which is Abelas’ confession about how he and his people at the temple endure their duty. Details in the post Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal.

Ahead, we find another: Unreadable Elven Writing, which narrates about a unique and brutal weapon developed by Andruil, a golden spear. It’s not clear if this is like a codex that represents the main rival of Mythal. We can imagine that Andruil may have had a lot of resentment towards Mythal since they both fought and Mythal erased her memory of how to access to the Void [codex Elven God Andruil, detailed in Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal].

One of the many chambers of this crypt has a pair of Fen’Harel statues with the painting of the elves in battle. This makes me strengthen the idea that this mural painting represents a Rebellion more than a battle.

Next chamber, we find a broken Dragon Myhtal statue, with the painting of the dragon on the wall [which in several other situations seems to be a dragon that guides the painting of the elves ridding into battle] and in another section of the wall, we find the slaved elves, without face and heart. There are more snuksuit and more paintings of elves with vallaslin.

In one of the darkest chambers, we find an isolated statue of a hart.

Arbor Wilds: Temple of Myhtal - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

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arlathmyheart · 2 years

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Had a thought about mythal. Now we know from solas that nobles marked slaves from gods they favoured but in the arbour wilds quest ‘what pride had wrought’ a big deal is made about the rites of petition and proving yourself worthy via the puzzles as Morrigan’s lore suggests.

From solas we learn more about mythal from his rebuke to Morrigan, from this I suggest that mythal may have possessed the power over all citizens such as how she can bind/control those who drink from the well. By doing so it reinforces her ability to be the law maker and judge. Presumably other gods had similar rites. This also makes more sense to assume she had control of solas also. (Possibly he is dirthamen’s sinner who took the shape of the divine as the multiple eyes seems a recurring motif of the dread wolf).

Any tests of the petitioner seem to invoke similarities to the quality of spirits versus demons. As below it notes mythal strikes down enemies with sins like wrath or envy.

In many ways it seems her and solas may have been a means of policing demons from the rest of the harmless spirits.

Codex:

Whenever one of the People wronged another, they would not call on Elgar'nan to avenge them, for his fury would destroy all it touched. Mythal saw this bring strife among the People, and went to Elgar'nan; she offered to deliver justice when the People warred amongst themselves. Elgar'nan saw her wisdom and agreed, binding all to abide by her verdicts.

BINDING ALL TO ABIDE BY HER VERDICTS

Some petitioning Mythal for justice hid jealousy, accusing those who had done them no wrong. She saw their lies, and struck them down. Others petitioning Mythal for justice burned with wrath for imagined slights. She saw their weak hearts, and struck them down. Those coming to her with clear minds and open hearts were granted judgment and protection, and Mythal harried their enemies until the end of their days.

—Story of the elven god Mythal, author unknown

HOWEVER WE KNOW FEN HAREL IS THE REBEL GOD WHO PRESUMABLY FOUGHT AGAINST THE SLAVERY AND GODHOOD OF THE EVANURIS AS HE HATES THOSE WHO BIND OR CORRUPT SPIRITS.

Just who then went against mythal? Solas says they killed her…. It could be andruil, falon din, elgarnan, ghillernan…

So either mythal wanted to help the rebellion somehow or the gods turned against her for not helping them grow more powerful through either slavery or their abuse of the titans/dwarves dreams

The use of the well and worship and subjects seem to be part of the ways the evanuris gain power. For instance mythal will presumably live on via transferring her soul to new hosts such as her daughters or sentinels.

#dragon age #da meta #mythal

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dinrenan · 3 years

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Dinrenan Origin

It took me ages to finish it all together, I had to rewrite it because the file on my computer got corrupted or something! Go and restart, then it did not save. So I opted to write on my phone and send it all to my discord server where I keep all my stuff, texts included, ported it to Drive and tadah! here you have it!

WARNING! This chapter contains: Mental torture (implied), physical torture (implied), mention of torture and blood, cannibalism, child poisoning and death. And Bad english grammar in some parts.

Sylaise had many children, but none of them survived, no matter how hard she tried to keep them alive. Until one did, a daughter, this one survived longer than any of her children and reached the age of 6 before passing out due to poisoning, the goddess found out pretty soon who it was, Hellathren, the child's slave and keeper while the Goddess had duties to attend to. The girl died in her sleep and Sylaise was devastated, no matter how much she tried to reach for the weakening spirit still inside her body. In desperation she went to the one who could help her, Falon'din, who did not know of the girl's existence, nor did the other Evanuris, they just assumed that the last child was dead, like the others. But this one had been the child she and June always wished for, and they tried many times to make any of them live enough after their first breath, and when this one made it, it was taken from them. Falon'din agreed to help the Goddess out, but made no promises of his success; he also needed to confront Ghilan'nain and his brother, Dirthamen, if he wanted to succeed. The young Goddess accepted to help, although not knowing for what she agreed to, and gave Dirthamen the knowledge he needed. Dirthamen on his part modified that knowledge, for it had flaws, and made it perfect if applied in the right way, if not the child would turn into something like one of Ghilan'nain's new experimental creatures, a beast with horns and grey skin, good only to fight like a rabid beast and nothing else.

Sylaise wanted to join the other Gods in this ritual while June simply mourned the loss by locking himself in the chamber they both shared, but the woman wasn't going to give up on either her Husband or child, there was still something that could be done and when Falon'din asked for blood, she gave it. She gave the traitorous woman who poisoned her daughter to Falon'din, for she had to live till the day of the ritual, then came the blood of her High Dragon Guardian, its unhatched eggs, and a vial containing her own blood. Falon'din chose the location, an underground temple he used to his own pleasure, few loyal slaves were permitted to stay there but mostly spirits roamed its dark and dreary walls.

When the time came only Falon'din was in the chamber, the high dragon throat was slit open to permit the blood to flow in the little canals carved on the floor and slide in the well, previously filled by a fountain figuring an owl, that was now empty of the stone structure and the child's body lay limp on the tiles. He had fun carving his markings on Sylaise traitorous slave, the blood still pouring from them was steadily forming streams in the canals and mixing with the High Dragon's Blood, filling up the empty space at the center, reaching the corpse.

He could feel the power held in the blood, and how it sought to enter the child's body, an empty shell perfect to host it and flow again, live again, it needed a spell to adjust itself and Falon’din was working on it when something started to go wrong. The Dragon's body began to spasm violently when the child's body got fully enveloped by the blood and the beast’s heart came out from its throat like it had regurgitated it from its place. The heart was big and pulsating, Falon'din lost his focus on the well and the spell broke loose, making the God hit the nearest wall, it was a moment before it all happened. The child's body began floating in the air, at the center of the pool, the heart was shrinking and reshaping itself while where once the High Dragon's and Slave's body laid, only a pile of bones could be seen now. The eggs that were placed on a corner started to explode, masses of blood, meat and scales flew towards the heart, now shrunk to a chest sized living organ, and with a stupor the God saw as all those materials started to mold over together and create a round shape, an orb. A blinding light had him covering his eyes, his ears could hear the screams of agony coming from the girl, he didn't move an inch, fearing that the sentient being, whatever it was, would strike him. And strike him it did, a stream of blood resembling a hand reached for him while he was still blind due to the light but heard the air moving, he reacted and tried to defend himself, only to be cut in the process, that did the trick, a thick line of blood got absorbed by the shaped blood claws and it all disappeared, like a spirit who lost its interest in him.

With slow movements, he rose up, dusted his clothes and advanced toward the Well. It was now void of blood and the orb was nowhere to be seen but the child was there, sitting on the floor and fixing him down with void glassy eyes, they were violet mixed with blue gems filled with nothing but despair in them. He swore he could feel his heart feel something resembling fascination, his brother and him were always curious after all. Some sentinels felt the blast and came bursting through the door to make sure nothing was attacking their lord, when they noticed the girl they all fell silent, for they could feel their Master magic radiating from her.

"Take her, my part is done" He decided to ignore the little pang his heart did but noticed the sentinels didn't move an inch when the girl simply turned towards them, staring at them this time, and with a scoff, Falon'din used his magic to make the girl float out of her 'nest' and right in front of the sentinels, they refused still to lay a hand on the girl, his temper wasn't known to last long, especially not after something came after his blood.

"Did I stutter?" He was now getting angry, he gave a simple order, were these loyal sentinels of his gone dead? He just marched towards them, took the girl in his arms, and walked off, if they weren't going to obey simple orders, he was going to do it himself. The girl did not speak during the whole time and was focusing her eyes on him again, he had to speak with his brother and focused himself on the task of reaching Dirthamens's room before a new day started. The child was not his problem to deal with anymore, or so he thought.

Sylaise received the child at the doorstep of her chamber situated in one of Elgar'nan palaces, the man had some territory issues to talk about, little did she care when she saw the girl. The two guards that accompanied her were Dirthamens's and she gestured them away while letting the girl inside, but something was off, she couldn't feel the same energy as before like it was replaced by something else.

"My girl...how do you feel?" her voice was trembling, she feared the worst and when the girl turned to look at the mother, glassy eyes was all she could see, the same eyes her brothers and sisters shared when the Goddess tried to revive them, something tore inside her once again, another failure. But with grief came rage, if the girl was nothing more than a useless shell there was no space for her love, but in reaching her the Goddess got stuck to the floor and no matter how much she tried to free herself, what kept Sylaise on the spot wasn't ice, no, it was too solid and transparent, she was being held by thick crystal.

"Mother" was a feeble little word that made the Goddess stop her struggling, if the girl spoke then it wasn't too late, she could still make her regain full consciousness, the crystal cage disappeared as soon as the rage inside her did, and the girl was between her mother's arms in a moment, not that the girl seemed to care, she just stayed motionless.

"It will be alright, I will make this right"

But the child had to remain a secret to the other Evanuris, Ghilan’nain did not know what her knowledge was used for, Dirthamen just told her he was seeking new knowledge and the Twins had little care for the existence of the girl as far as Sylaise knew. June was happy and relieved to see his daughter breathe again and held her body gently between him and Sylaise that night, fearing she would disappear in a cloud of smoke.

The day after, all the discussions were done, Falon'din and Elgar'nan had a disagreement, Sylaise cared little, she was ready to walk in her and June's room, take the child and go home, Her husband had made a little piece of jewelry for the girl, to hide her aura and give the illusion she was indeed a grown child, not even a teen yet, but enough to be used as a maid to the Goddess, and since there seemed a fight was to come, she wanted her daughter by her side if things got to the point of fleeing.

When Falon'din’s knight died both parents were ready to leave, their presence was requested no more, June gave a little look to his daughter, only to find her walking towards the fallen elf and with a firm voice, he called her, hoping she would obey.

"Maid, you are not supposed to leave your Mistress side " with those words Sylaise turned as well and tried to not panic in front of the others.

"It seems like this one does not listen to you, what family did you say she comes from?" was Andruil sneering comment, she always hated how Sylaise went around with a noble's kid always at her side, just to feel like a mother, she told the huntress a long time ago, Andruil did not understand the other and simply scoffed at whoever child Sylaise put her claws on every decade. The girl, in the meantime, had approached the elf lying there, Elgar'nan's knight looking down at her like she was a pile of dragon dung, but little did she care, she just knelt beside the dying elf, she could feel the regret for something inside him, and his life slowly fading, the elf wasn't dead yet and so she did the only thing she remembered made her mother relax. She started to sing while cleaning his face from the blood, his eyes focused on hers and his ears focused on her voice, he suddenly wasn't scared to close his eyes anymore, and for a moment he felt peace in the arms of someone so young willing to help a dying man finding his last breath, he hoped the best for the girl and wished that her life wouldn't end in slavery. When he finally went limp, the girl smiled sadly down at the pale face in her lap.

A soft hand reached for her and in a second she was on her feet, Falon'din himself was dragging her away while the other Gods were stunned, except for Elgar'nan, who smiled coyly at the other. Mythal simply shook her head, Sylaise and June froze on the spot, the Goddess didn't dare to reach for her daughter and June knew better than to go against Falon'din, so kept both hands on his wife's shoulders, to stop her from moving if she tried.

When the Eluvian closed behind them the girl had no trouble adjusting her eyes to the dark corridor they arrived in but had to look down when Falon'din turned to speak with her.

"Do you have a name?" His voice was a mix between cold and veiled amusement and on her part, the girl did not know, she never had a name for all she knew, her mother and father only called her with nicknames and Hellathren called her young Master, so she simply shook her head and subtly looked up, the God was smiling. He noticed right away the glossy emptiness had left her eyes, that meant she had regained her will to live. Then came the rational thought, such being could help him, and since she was so young he could easily use her as he pleased, he needed her voice, with the future wars to come the girl would be a valid asset. He had to deal with some problems, the girl's parents for a start, but he had time.

"Then welcome home, first off, remove that thing around your neck, I will ask June to make another one and I will infuse it with my own spell...and burn those clothes, you are not going back to your lifegiver anytime soon" with that he started to walk and the girl diligently followed him, not looking at anyone, she simply stared at the head of the God, or well, at his black long hair. After a short walk, they reached a throne room full of slaves and sentinels, there were some tables as well filled with Nobles who whispered between themselves as the God walked toward his throne, the girl still in tow. When he reached the throne the girl had stopped at the steps, not sure what to do with herself, she could smell the meat on the tables and something inside her stirred, her mouth started to salivate and she gulped, fixing her eyes on the clean floor, she had to stop that urge of biting and chewing, although something disagreed inside her. Falon’din saw as to how the girl tensed at the smell in the air and made a gesture towards one of the sentinels, he ordered that one chamber was to be made for the girl as well as a cell in the dungeon, near one where enemies were left to slowly fade away, only then he spoke aloud, to let everyone in the room listen to his claim.

"Let this be a joyful moment, for a new member joins my court, my loyal friends, I present to you my future High Priestess, Dinrenan!" with a smile he gestured with one hand towards her form, and she understood that he just gave her a name. All around the nobles all started to clap loudly, it was unusual for Falon'din to have a new member joining his court, more so if said member was no more than a child in their eyes. The feast was going to be that same night, Dinrenan was escorted to her room by Falon'din himself and whispers started to spread all around, thanks to the working slaves that saw them. Could she be the Master's daughter? Was she some powerful spirit that chose to form a body? What was her purpose? She had a scary look.

Her life was a simple one to the eyes of the people, singing when people died during a battle, for Uthenera, for the Gods, singing for the future to come, to mourn the lost, nothing more and nothing less. What they didn't know was that Dirthamen started to train the girl, under the permission of his brother, and discovered soon after her strengths and weaknesses. Unlike her mother, she wasn't a powerful healer, but more like a crafter, like her father. She had the ability to shapeshift in every living creature as long as she saw it first, and he tested that in every way possible. He had locked her in a black cell filled with people who couldn't give him any more knowledge, and he couldn't turn them into slaves, they were no use to him until he decided to starve the girl and see how she would survive. Survive she did, when the elf chose to reopen the dungeon, five months later, all he could smell were the rotten flesh of the decaying corpses and almost dry blood, it didn't take him much to scan the room: on the far corner were all white bones, near them there seemed to be a tall crystal bowl of what he could only assume to be wastes, even although the room didn't smell like them. He saw on how there was a pile of ragged clothes forming a nest of sorts, and on top of that body parts with flesh still on them, but Dinrenan was nowhere to be seen, then his gaze checked the walls and she was there, hiding in the darker corner where the light did not arrive, she seemed to be one with the wall, he could only spot her because of her blue and violet glowing eyes roaming his form like he was her next prey. Only once she stepped towards him he noticed that she had discarded the jewelry Falon'din made June craft for her and she turned back to her true size and looks, a girl of 6 years old covered in dry blood, with nothing but rags and sharp teeth shining in the feeble light, then he noticed the crown of horns on her head.

“I see, to survive you gave in to your dragon instincts...I won’t let you go out of this place until you return to your...civilized state, I thought this could happen...but it won't be a problem, you will have to stay with me for at least another three months, do you understand me?" he wasn’t going to let a feral thing run through his temple, she would burn everything down if the chance was given to her.

The girl did understand him, but at the moment she wasn't totally sure how to react to his presence, a part of her wanted to attack him, tear his limbs apart and drink his blood to satisfy her bloodlust, the other part, the rational and weak one, wanted nothing more than to beg him to let her out, to let her wash herself of the dry blood. As if sensing her intentions Dirthamen smiled coldly at her, his yellow and purple eyes shining in the dark.

"You won't get out of here unless you turn back, young one. My brother will be pleased in knowing he just has to starve you before locking you up with those who refuse to worship him..." he saw as she nodded slowly and the horns on her head faded away. She wanted to speak, to let him know she wasn't feral at all, not yet, the last meal had enough meat on his bones to fulfill her hunger, for the moment being.

"Food" it's all that she managed to say before walking, more like stumbling, towards the black-haired man, who at the sight felt a little guilty and disgusted, that was not something he was used to, the guilt. Only when he looked away from the creature, he saw the spirits in the cell, spirits of mercy, pity, hunger, and shame, they all stayed in the near corner where he stood, with grey colors as to not be seen by him got curious.

"How long before she killed you?" He asked them but it seemed like they did not want to answer, no one spoke aloud, they only stared at the girl and refused to answer the God, which meant he wouldn't get a straight answer from them, but Dinrenan spoke before falling on her knees and arms.

"I...I sang, I sang to them, to reassure them nothing was going to happen...and some of them refused to wake up...so...I...I..." she couldn't say it, Dirthamen saw on how the girl struggled to get the words out of her mouth, he only scoffed and turned around, leaving the door open, the girl was no threat once her instincts died down and so she was free to leave, he had a guest to attend to after all, and it wouldn't be kind to let him wait. The girl did not understand, she looked at the spirits and they all walked towards her sides, patting her on the back and on her head, she gave them the mercy they requested, to listen to her voice and never wake up again. With a sniff, the girl picked up the broken necklace she destroyed in a fit of rage and walked toward her so-called freedom, as long as she behaved normally and didn't give in to her dragon instincts Dirthamen had no interest in keeping her secluded. Step after step she found herself walking in the shadows to avoid the slaves and sentinels till she reached her room, but someone was already waiting for her, one of Falon'din noble sentinels that years later would still protect her from herself and keep her memory in order to protect her until the day she was ready to face them.

His name was Dinlin.

Someone that years later she would call Pity. -----------

Took me long enough to finish this! I started with a picture and ended up with another, the end picture is somewhat decent while the first I made included more bones, blood, and all happy stuff. Had to cut some parts as well, a friend of mine that read it threw up her dinner, so I choose to cut the Slave Carving, remove the reason as to why Hellathren did what she did (It will be explained in Dirthrenan "Blood relationship" with Dinrenan), the other funny exercises Dirthamen put her through and along the way I got carried away and put Dinlin in it as well...so, for the most part, now you know who Dinrenan's parent are!

#Dragon age #Dragon age Inquisition #Dinrenan #Evanuris #Sylaise #June #falon'din #dirthamen #heed the warnings #I warned you #Dinlin #My art #My writing #Dinrenan Origin

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timeforelfnonsense · 5 years

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House of the Setting Sun

I haven’t posted a fic in ages! I just had the idea to do this an a little free time. I might revisit this again at some point but for now its a one time deal! I love the idea of the elves before the fall of Arlathan and I wanted to explore that a little. (Let me know if you spot my not so subtle GOT reference too )

Sunlight bounced off of glittering crystal spires in the distance as Mythal’s party drew closer to the one of the lofty palaces of Arlathan. They were a grand caravan; a host of sentinels clad in shimmering armor made from gold and dragon’s bone. A small number of Mythal’s household accompanied them as well, slaves with twisting branches marking their worn faces. At the center of it all was Mythal herself. The goddess sat with in a lavish palanquin looking out at her company as they reached the palace gates. Those within the city flocked to the streets to catch a glimpse at the display, falling to their knees as the party past.

“My lady Mythal, we are nearly to Vhenas Elgara’vallas.”

The voice belonged to one of her personal guard. The boy was young and eager to serve, he had risen quickly through the ranks of her sentinels.

“So we are Young Wolf,” Mythal spoke never bringing her eyes to meet his, “Let us hope my lord husband’s mood is fair. We wouldn’t want another repeat of our last Summerday’s festival would we.”

He has never been found of Elgar'nan, he was a powerful man and he had little tolerance for those who got on his nerves. More times than he could count Mythal had stepped in to sooth her bondmate’s blood lust.

Vhenas Elgara’vallas was certainly a keep fitting of it’s master. A looming fortress with gilded towers that seemed to brush the sky. The walls were made of a glistening black stone that looked as if it would be wet to the touch. Solas had to admit he was impressed though he dare not show it. He had much to prove and even more to lose. He was still young and new to Mythal’s personal guard and gawking like a common servant would gain him no favors.

Elgar'nan was waiting for them as they entered the keep. He spoke in the booming voice of a king,

“Andaran atish’an Mythal, honored All Mother, God Queen, Guardian of the Moon, Lady of Justice. I welcome you and yours into my hall; this is your home as it is mine my heart.”

Mythal bowed graciously, her golden silks pooling on the floor as she sank.

“You have the gratitude of myself and my house husband. We will be sure to treasure our time here in The House of The Setting Sun.”

Vhenas Elgara’vallas - House of the setting sun, Elgar’nan’s hold

#Solas #mythal #elgar'nan #dragon age #elf writes

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theladydreadwolf · 7 years

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Ancient Elvhen Britannia AU

I was sitting here thinking...What if Britannia was an Ancient Elvhen that didn't follow the plot of my story, "In Another World" Here's my idea: Britannia was a Sentinel of Mythal's who was second in command under Abelas. She grew tired of the way Arlathan was governed by the Evanuris. Mythal was the best of them, but never fully spoke out against it because of her husband, Elgar'nan. She learned of Fen'Harel's rebellion and was intrigued by it. When Mythal was murdered because of her neutrality when it came to the rebellion, Britannia abandoned her post as Sentinel to join Fen'Harel's rebellion. He welcomed her and removed her vallaslin. She became one of his most loyal followers and basically his Sentinel. She watched his back. She defended and protected him even when he argued that he didn't need her protection, but she knew how rash and hot-headed he was. She helped free slaves, fought beside, and she eventually fell in love with him. When he created the Veil and Arlathan fell, she never had the chance to tell him how she felt. Elvhenan had turned into utter chaos. She soon found sanctuary in one of Mythal's numerous temples and entered Uthernera. When she awakened, the world had changed. Her magic was severely weakened so she had to make her own staff to channel magic through. When she left the temple she wandered for months until she finally came across a Dalish clan who took her in. Clan Lavellan's first was killed in a tragic accident and the second wasn't ready to take such a position. Keeper Deshanna knew Britannia's power was greater than any normal mage and that she had much knowledge so she was made First. When word of the Conclave spread to the clan, the Keeper sent her to spy upon it and then her whole world changed once again when she woke up in a cell with a strange yet familiar mark of magic upon her hand.

#solavellan #britannia lavellan #young fen'harel #fen'harel #dread wolf #arlathan #ancient elvhen lavellan

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daughter-of-the-prophet · 6 years

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Mythal

Mythal the Protector and the All-Mother, and goddess of love, is the patron of motherhood and justice (the flip side of vengeance). She leads the pantheon with her male counterpart, Elgar'nan.

Dalish Legends

The Dalish believe that Mythal was born of the sea. They tell that when Elgar'nan threw the sun out of the sky in vengeance for burning the earth to ashes, Mythal calmed him and helped him see how his anger had betrayed him. Elgar'nan was convinced to free the sun. On the first night after the sun was released Mythal created the moon, from the glowing earth round its bed, to be placed in the sky as a pale reflection of the sun’s true glory.

In most legends, Mythal and Elgar'nan had five children: Falon'Din, Dirthamen, Andruil, Sylaise and June. However, in some versions the last three of them are not related to Mythal at all.

In most stories, Mythal rights wrongs while exercising motherly kindness. Other paint her as dark, vengeful. Yet all accounts end the same: Mythal was exiled to the Beyond with other gods.

The Dalish invoke Mythal’s name when they require protection.

In Elvhenan

Mythal was one of the Evanuris, mortal mages who enslaved their kin and branded them with their vallaslin. Unlike the other pretender gods, she was a voice of reason and genuinely cared for her people. Mythal was truly the Mother, protective and fierce.

The ancient priests who toiled in Mythal's favor passed their knowledge on through the Well of Sorrows. Their collective will would put anyone who drank from it under a compulsion and bind them forever to Mythal's service.

Elves petitioned Mythal on matters of justice and it is said that those who came to her with clear minds and open hearts were granted judgment and protection; Mythal harried their enemies until the end of their days. Those who tried to manipulate her wrath against those they envied or were being petty over imagined slights were swiftly struck down.

Thus, Mythal did not show favor to the sinner who dared to fly in the shape of the divine. She let Elgar'nan judge him.

On another occasion, when Falon'Din and Elgar'nan found themselves in an argument, Mythal defused the situation by suggesting that they appoint their knights to battle in their stead, thus avoiding a civil war among the gods.

When Falon'Din began wars to amass more worshipers, Mythal rallied the gods against him. Falon'Din only surrendered when they bloodied him in his own temple.

When Andruil had gone mad after hunting in the Void, Mythal took the form of a great serpent and waited for Andruil at the base of a mountain. They fought for three days and nights, until Mythal sapped Andruil's strength with her magic and stole Andruil's knowledge of how to find the Void.

Mythal has struck down the titans and rendered the earth, their demesne, unto the elves. Her statues are found deep underground, often accompanied by statues of Fen'Harel. One statue is overlooking an ancient dwarven tomb. She is described as giving dreams to someone empty and thus filling them up.

Mythal's Well of Sorrows knows the secret greeting from those Fen'Harel trusted, which suggests that Fen'Harel and Mythal were close.

Fate

Mythal was murdered, but not by Fen'Harel. She was betrayed by those who destroyed her temple.

Mythal's fellow elven gods killed her in their lust for power. This act was the final straw that led the Dread Wolf to banish them. However, the first of his people do not die so easily.

Mythal was reduced to a wisp of what she was, and came to Flemeth in her time of need. Thus the famed Witch of the Wilds, who is in fact the possessed form of Mythal, came to be. She seeks justice for what was lost.

In the aftermath of Corypheus' defeat, Solas confronts Flemeth at an eluvian just as Flemeth is seen passing some form of energy through the mirror. After a brief exchange Solas/Fen'Harel appears to absorb Flemeth's power.

Symbols and shrines

Mythal is often depicted as a dragon or a female humanoid figure with dragon head and wings. The constellation “Silentir,” which resembles a dragon in flight, may be related to Mythal.

An altar to Mythal is found atop Sundermount, outside of Kirkwall. A majestic Temple of Mythal guarded by Sentinel elves is located deep in the Arbor Wilds. It was once the center of a temple complex with an entire city around it, and there were multiple such cities. Another Altar of Mythal stands nearby.

#dragon age #elven gods #elven culture #elven pantheon #mythal

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werewolves-are-real · 7 years

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Uprising

This fic has bugged me awhile because I... don’t entirely know where it’s going? I have ideas but I have too many, incompatible ideas. It’s for Dragon Age and is I think a bigger AU than I’ve done before (in terms of just... the world, because all the characters are spread out and it’s tricky to make everything fit right).

Anyway, this is the intended first chapter +a bit more because I never properly post things on AO3 until they’re finished (I’ll never finish, otherwise).

Emprise du Lion, 9:40 Dragon

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Solas wakes.

When he went to the trance it was spring, but white frost glitters over his cloak, his faded robes now only held together by webs of silver enchantment. Sitting up takes a few minutes; drifts of snow have flurried in, melted, frozen again, and he sticks to the floor. Finally he burns away these shards of ice with an impatient flare of magic, then immediately regrets it.

The temple's ceiling has caved in. Broad-leafed vines, viciously defying the weather, curl over the edges of the ruins and sprawl down above his head. Solas looks around the empty room and then paces it once, twice. The space is small. There can be no mistake, but he probes with another dear wisp of magic anyway.

Dark spots blossom in front of his eyes. Solas stops and grabs the wall for balance.

His power has been stolen.

The idea yawns in front of him, impossibly horrible, but Solas shakes it away. There are few who could use his power; none left, now, who could access it as it was contained. June, Felon'din, Sylaise – they are all gone. They cannot return.

(He has tried. He has tried.)

His staff is gone, too, but Solas has never needed tools for all his magic. Not even now, weakened as he is. With the slightest of sighs he steps forward, falling up into the body of a terrible black wolf, three-eyed, its stiff fur bristling with hard spines of pure magic.

This behemoth squeezes through the temple's door with his head low to the ground. Outside the statue of a wolf sits judging an empty courtyard. Statues of elvhen archers spot the distance, barely visible between the fragments of more crumbled stone and vines.

Solas starts to walk.

After resting, walking, hunting down a rabbit, fighting off a particularly stupid bear, and stopping for three more breaks, Solas is forced to admit that he is concerned. He should not be so exhausted, even without the powers left within his orb. He may have made a misjudgement before consigning himself to the deep sleep.

He had hoped to wake in a kinder world, his mistakes forgotten. But he cannot forget, and as he walks through the silent, snow-covered forest he wonders with rising horror if there is anyone else even alive to remember.

Finally, at last, he spots the town.

It's a pitiful little thing, a hodge-podge of little houses crammed together near a wall. The poorest of Mythal's slaves lived in better comfort. And, drawing near, he realizes with contempt that there are no people here after all. Small, squat shapes flicker between the houses, some slow, bent with age, others smaller and darting. Quicklings.

Solas paces at the trees' border. These short-lived things began appearing by the People's territory after his mistake. He has only heard rumors of their harshness, but he believes those tales; they cannot be natural. He crouches lower into the brush – a pitiful camouflage for his great, shadowy hulk of fur – and watches as two old women step out between a pair of houses and move toward the forests.

“Quit your sighing, now, I will not have it,” one sniffs. “There will be food even for you – I finally sold that old mine away, and what does it get me? I must provide for everyone else, of course. You should be grateful.”

“Yes, miss.”

The words are useless gibberish. The second woman carries a basket and trails behind the first. Solas gets a look at her and flinches. Short, small, weak – and pointed ears.

Old.

So the curse continues.

And so does the slavery of his brethren, somehow. She has Falon'din's markings. The two make more sounds, but some burning lure pulls him forward. He must know. After all these years – all this time -

The quickling sees him and cries out, jumping away. And the half-person screams, far louder, and says, “Fen'Harel!”

Good.

The half-person faints, and the quickling runs back into the town, leaving her behind.

Solas hesitates. He is accustomed to many reactions – awe and submission and scorn, all – but this is new. After some contemplation he resumes his elvhen form.

The women stirs slowly. She cringes away until she sees him, then quickly gasps out a string of useless sounds.

“I cannot understand you,” Solas says impatiently. “Can you not talk?”

The woman – Solas supposes she must be called some form of elf, or something like – hesitates. “You... see him?” She asks anxiously, in a garbled version of the proper language. “Fen'Harel?”

Solas ignores the question. “Are there People here?”

“No,” says the women. “ - Only me.” She looks over Solas anxiously. His appearance doesn't seem to have comforted her much. “...Magic,” she says suddenly.

Solas frowns.

“You,” a string of the sounds, “magic?” and she gestures at his long glimmering robes, the bands of silver around his arms he has all but forgotten. He looks down at himself.

“I suppose,” he dismisses.

The elf steps back. Before she can respond three men come rushing forward from the edge of the town. Only one is properly armed, but that man wears a fine coat of armor. Embossed on the front is the symbol of a sword wreathed in flames. It is not a symbol Solas recognizes.

The soldier yells something; the elven woman leaps away, and Solas finds himself staring indifferently at the end of a sword.

“Did you summon the beast here, apostate?” The man demands.

The words mean nothing.

“I have been dreaming,” he tells the woman who looks almost elvhen, the only one here who matters. “What is this place?”

The woman jabbers at the man with the sword.

The soldier raises his arms and starts to chant.

Glass and oil spread over Solas' skin, into his skin, constricting his heart and seizing his lungs. Flickers of lightning crackle from his fingers and then disappear – snuffed in an instant. It's like the veil, he thinks absurdly. A veil in his own body. What have these creatures accomplished?

But Solas can traverse his own veil; he can overcome this, too. He raises one hand and sweeps a sputtering line of fire at the soldier.

The woman screams. The soldier and the men jump away, gaping and yelling, like somehow they didn't expect him to respond to an assault on his very magic. But the effort makes him stumble.

When the soldier raises his sword again he takes the wiser part of valor and flees. He shifts as soon as he is hidden in the undergrowth, and for two more nights he runs with the memory of that frightened elf-like face and the red lines of Falon'din burning in his mind.

One of his own strongholds is toward the east, hidden by strong magics, but that safe-haven is a last resort which will probably be deserted in his absence; it will tell him nothing of the world. Solas makes his way west, after a fashion, and the land levels out into green valleys and thick groves of trees. Green vines and emerald leaves tangling over the old stones of temples fallen into disrepair.

Here, again, the old gods lay destroyed.

It is everything Solas once wanted, but he treads among these fallen testaments to the evanuris with unease. Stone wolf sentinels guard the plains, the clearest and most respectful remnants of the past. They might be a sign of respect, or even of worship. He never could convince some of his followers to treat him as anything but a god.

Offerings sit before some of the wolves in tiny platters. Someone, then, must live nearby, but he finds no trace of civilization.

After days of searching he treads deep into one of the more recognizable temples, a lonely bastion to Mythal. It is one of many and he does not recognize it. He sleeps in the shadows, and dreams, and crosses through the Fade.

Wisdom meets him.

You are back, says the spirit. You were here so long so where did you go?

“I woke,” Solas answers. “I returned to the physical world.”

But spirits have little understanding of this world, that world. Not even Wisdom. Why did you leave, Wisdom asks.

“Because I could not stay,” Solas responds, which seems to satisfy. “I would like your assistance. There is a language I do not know. I heard it several days ago; can you teach me?”

Why do you want to -

“I am asking about the People,” says Solas. “I must discover what became of them after my mistakes. I must know who escaped the evanuris.”

Wisdom grieves for him in flares of blue and gray-white. I will teach you, teach you, it says. And then, amending: I will try.

Solas discovers cooking fires and fresh pits – signs of recent camps – but moves on anyway after retrieving a staff from a derelict temple to Elgar'nan. The wolf-sentinels and dead shrines loom like hollow corpses.

He moves ever westward until the edge of the sea thins and fades and he comes across another group of quicklings. By now Solas feels more confident with the clumsy words of their unwieldy, blocky tongue. Wisdom teaches him the words in exchange for knowledge and glittering tricks, though he lacks the context to shape them with the right inflection, to understand hidden meanings, to smile or even frown when strange phrases fly past his ears.

There are some phrases he hears – May the Maker bless you, the Maker protect you the Maker guide you and Curse you and Hate you – that he cannot understand at all. But he checks his arms and fingers for the tell-tale signs of a miscast ice spell when he first sees the benevolent figure of a stone matron in the first city he enters, holding court like the second coming of Mythal herself. A brazier sits in her hand like a beacon to the world, but Solas does not recognize her. Her ears are blunt and dulled. Quicklings worship other quicklings, but he must believe that the farce is all the same.

Some things never change.

There are no elves in this city, but when he asks, the quicklings wave him out, out, talking about a people called the Dalish, wanderers and nomads. He finds a group of them in the north.

The Dalish village reminds him of a slave camp – one of those terrified, overwrought huddles of people on the outskirts of Arlathan. Refugees who live on the fringe of society after desperately fleeing from their masters. Such people must always be approached carefully.

He says, “My name is Solas.”

A hunter approaches him and responds, “Go away, shem. We do not want you here.”

Solas does not know the word. But it sounds elvhen, though they speak to him in the quickling tongue. The strange woman has the stern vallaslin of Andruil upon her cheeks and brow, but the other Dalish wear a scattering of random marks. The children are not marked at all, like they have been picked for sale instead of being established servants of the evanuris.

He does not understand.

“What gods do you serve,” Solas asks. But the hunter only scowls.

He ignores the warning of the hunter, and when the other Dalish notice him he is welcomed reluctantly. The Keeper, who wears the vallaslin of Sylaise, asks him to sit by the fire; it rests within a wide triangle of three of the camp's aravels, the rest of which are penned in a small square to confine a tiny herd of halla.

Solas repeats the question to the Keeper, who seems more tolerant despite the suspicious looks Solas begins to attract. “There are nine elvhen gods,” the Keeper explains patiently, as though he does not know this. “There is Mythal, the all-mother, to whom we pray for protection; Elgar'nan, who - “

“But who do you serve,” Solas interrupts.

The Keeper frowns. “We are Dalish,” the man says. “We serve all the gods.” And he explains what this means.

The thought is ludicrous; the evanuris quarrel too much to possibly share servants. As Solas listens he realizes all at once that this Keeper, these Dalish, are entirely deluded. They serve no one. They dedicate themselves to remnants of a religion and order that no longer exists. They waste their lives.

The Keeper finishes his recitation by saying that Fen'Harel is a trickster, a coward, and the enemy of all the gods. He is the bringer of death and destruction; he brings deliberate death to the Dalish whenever he can.

“So you understand nothing at all,” Solas concludes when the Keeper's explanation is finished. The old elf looks irritated.

“You cannot say that, shem,” says the young elvhen hunter from earlier. “Our gods are far older than your Maker.”

“I do not know of any Maker,” says Solas. “But your stories are ridiculous fabrications. You have completely misconstrued even the basic attributes of your own deities – and even those details were, themselves, nonsensical pieces of propaganda even at the time of Elvhenan.”

The hunter scoffs. She is not the only one to look angry. “Next you will tell me you know what Arlathan looked like, and perhaps the ancient elves were friends with qunari and they all fought the Imperium together. You don't know more about our history than anyone. Less, I should think. If you cannot bother to be polite to your hosts, shem, feel free to leave.”

“Sanaya,” the Keeper reproves mildly. But he does not seem to disagree.

But Solas just nods and does indeed his leave; he has learned enough. In any case he has a new goal, now, entirely unintended.

'Next you will tell me you know what Arlathan look like', the woman said. But whatever could have happened to that great city, the capital of the elvhen world, which was still standing proud even as Solas sunk into the deep dreams of uthenara?

II.

Orlais is like a pale reflection of the world he once knew, glittering on the surface and filled with subtle poison. It does not shine like Arlathan, but the cities are airy and have a quick beauty on the surface; one must look deep to see ugliness, poverty. One must wind into the deepest crags of the towns to find elves.

The elves and the humans live together, which is one more thing Solas cannot understand. Their lives are equal now, he supposes, short and terrible, but he cannot imagine what they might have in common. And the elves, for some reason, seem to be treated poorly. He understands this when he walks through Val Royeax and gets called knife ear three times for simply peering at shop displays.

He disposes of his useless silver ornaments, the ancient and priceless remnants of elvhenan that came with him through the sleep. He is paid a pittance. “Are you planning on selling that?” someone asks Solas when he steps under a low veranda. The young woman nods at his staff; this little shop holds a few magickal oddities.

“No, of course not,” Solas says. “Though it does not quite suit me; I really must find a better one.”

The human shopkeeper smiles fixedly. “ - Oh,” she says. “ - You're. Actually a mage?”

“Of course.”

“Are you from Tevinter?” The woman asks nervously, eyeing him.

“No.”

“Are you a warden?”

Solas doesn't know what that is. “No.”

The woman nods weakly. “I see,” she says.

It could be useful to purchase a runestone, but his funds must be saved; he will have to make his way to another of his safehouses and find some stored treasures sometime. He should have a better staff somewhere, too. Solas leaves quietly and wonders where he might find this town's elves; he has barely seen anyone worth talking to in this place.

Within a few minutes he has finished walking through the main square – oddly empty of people - and has just resolved to try the docks when half a dozen soldiers seem to step out from nowhere and surround him. Each of them bear polished swords and polished armor, all emblazoned with a strangely familiar sigil of flames. After a moment Solas recognizes the sign. It is the same symbol as that of the man who attack him when he first woke from Uthenara.

“You need to come with us, mage,” their leader says.

“Why?” Solas asks slowly. He shifts his staff to position it against the ground, noting that several of the soldiers shift in response.

“Are you from a local circle? Are you an apostate?”

“I do not understand what you think I have done.”

This only seems to make the commander angrier. “You're a magic user!” he accuses.

“And is that a crime?

The humans look at him like he's insane. Ah. Solas lifts his staff.

The commander lifts his sword.

A terrible, glassy feeling sweeps over Solas. He can't feel his staff at all for a moment – he can see it but it doesn't exist, and there is cold wood between his fingers but nothing, nothing. There is no substance and no magic. There is no magic anywhere. The world flatlines to lines, angles, grayscale colors that threaten to tip him back into the endless sleep.

An arrow spins down and sinks into the commander's shoulder.

#fic #(fic fragment)#Dragon Age: Inquisition #I'm not actually horribly familiar with the Dragon Age fandom - I never even played DAII #So feedback on factural-error things would be appreciated?#Eventually it's supposed to be a better take on Solas leading elves into rebellion #With him also growing out of his RAMPANT RACISM jeeze Solas #...You cannot detect the character growth yet I promise it is coming

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theladydreadwolf · 7 years

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In Another World (Chp. 1 - Solavellan Fic)

[I finally had the courage to start it. I dedicate this chapter to you guys: @dexukiart, @flamewalking, @bearlytolerable, @fadedforyou, @elfsplaining, @rawrzimon, @allisonsaurus, and @elvhenaniwa. <3 Thank you for inspiring me and encouraging me to write this story. :D]

Britannia studied her reflection within the mirror, studying her appearance because tonight was of great importance. Tonight was the ball that all the Evanuris would be in attendance and Andruil lectured her for hours how to behave. Tonight would not be the night to make mistakes or she would be punished severely by her mistress. The elf closed her eyes and took a deep breath to try and steady her rattled nerves.

Britannia hated the fact that Andruil used her gift as a singer to her disposal. She was always forced to be the entertainment at every gathering she held. It made her skin crawl when the goddess would give her that wicked smile and call her ‘My little songbird’. She was seen as the huntress’s pet and the thought sickened her.

Her glanced one last time at her Vallaslin marred face before the lock on the door was opened. Andruil insisted on keeping her within a locked room. Truly like a bird in a cage. Britannia turned to face who entered her gilded cage. It was one of Andruil’s sentinels.

“The mistress said for you to come to the ballroom. The festivities have begun.”, he stated with such indifference. The songstress stood and made her way to the ballroom. She mustn’t keep her lady or her guests waiting.

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Andruil rapped her fingers impatiently against the banquet table. All of the other members of the Pantheon had arrived on time except Fen'Harel. The wolf always took great pleasure getting under her skin. She made a sound of annoyance. Falon'Din lifted his glass to his lips, taking a long sip before placing it down to chuckle at Andruil’s behavior.

“The wolf is already getting under your skin and he isn’t even here yet.”, he smirked at the huntress’s impatience. Ghilan'nain tried her best to calm her clearly irritated lover. Andruil shot a deadly glare at Falon'Din before turning her attention to Mythal, who was the one responsible for inviting Fen'Harel in the first place.

“The wolf is late. As always. I have no patience for his petty games, Mythal.”, she practically hissed at the All-Mother. Mythal sighed heavily. She should have known he would have pulled a stunt like this. He truly detested Andruil and took great enjoyment by toying with her. “Andruil…I assure you he is coming. He should be arriving soon.”, she reassured the fuming goddess.

Andruil rolled her eyes with disdain before picking up her glass, taking a long sip. Her eyes did however seem to light up when she saw her prized songbird enter the ballroom. “Entertainment has arrived. My lovely songbird…how lovely for you to finally join us.”, she cooed as Britannia stood before the banquet table.

Her azure eyes took in all the members of the Pantheon nervously. She noticed the empty chair beside Mythal with brief curiosity before bowing before them. “It’s an honor to be here before you all my lords and ladies.”, she stood before them with a mask of confidence. In truth, she was truly terrified and intimidiated.

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Fen'Harel finally arrived. A smirked appeared upon his features. He deliberately arrived late to irriate the all mighty huntress. The wolf stroded through the gilded halls, heading towards the ballroom. He could hear the faint sound of music playing. It seemed like the festivities had already begun.

He truly had no interest in attending this gathering. All the members of the Evanuris despised him except for Mythal. She had always been sympathetic to his cause of freeing the slaves and rebelling against the other members of the Pantheon. The All-Mother did all she could to protect and aid him in his endeavour while trying to soothe Elgar'nan’s temper. He knew he couldn’t always rely on her always backing him.

He had reached the large double doors of the ballroom. The wolf entered the room proudly and everyone immediately noticed him. Andruil instantly shot him a venomous glare. “How good of you to finally join us, /wolf/.”, she spat the word like it tasted sour upon her tongue.

Fen'Harel placed his hands behind, strolling to his seat at Mythal’s side. “Though I have better things to be doing with my time, It would have been rude of me to recline an invite, so here I am”, his steely eyes looked upon her with a disinterested expression. His behavior alone immediately enraged her. She clenched her fists, opening her mouth to retort, but Ghilan'nain placed a hand upon her shoulder.

“Vhenan…Don’t let him get to you. He’s provoking on purpose. Let us enjoy the ball. I really want to hear your lovely songbird sing for us.”, the soft spoken goddess glanced over to Britannia who stood patiently, waiting to begin. Andruil calmed instantly at her love’s words. “Very well, ma lath.”, she took her hand and placed a light kiss upon it. Her hard gaze finally fell on Britannia, “Alright, my pet. Sing for us.”

_________

The music began to play softly, filling the room with a sweet melody. Britannia closed her azure eyes and began to sing a light and cheerful song that Andruil enjoyed. She lost herself within the music. It was always a brief escape from her prison. The young elf began to sway to the tune, her emerald gown fluttering with her movements. Her voice never waivered as she sang even though her legs quivered and her hands shook.

The arrival of Fen'Harel added to her nervousness. There had been rumors surrounding the rebel. That he wanted to free the slaves of their chains. She desperately wanted to be free of these bindings, but having such thoughts weren’t allowed here. Even uttering his name was enough to render punishment.

As she sang, she couldn’t help but steal a glance at the rebel. Their eyes met briefly. She quickly diverted her eyes elsewhere. She didn’t want to be caught staring. Britannia knew Andruil was watching her every move, so she had to stay in her role. She had to be the obedient pet that knew her place.

___________

Fen'Harel ignored the senseless chattering of the Pantheon around him. All of his focus was on the enchanting songstress before him. The lilt of her song and the graceful sway of her hips had him mesmerized. Such a beautiful woman didn’t deserve to be in chains or used as a source of entertainment.

The wolf inside him didn’t miss the shy glance at him. It stirred something predatory in him. He wanted to free her, but yet have her for himself. He internally chastised himself for thinking that way. The rebel took note of the faint flush upon her cheeks when their eyes met briefly.

He took his wine glass in hand and took a long, savory sip. His icy eyes never leaving her form. She had glanced away quickly in fear of being caught, putting her mask back in place. Fen'Harel was determined to set this songbird free from her cage. She deserved to be free.

#solavellan #solavellan hell #solas x lavellan #arlathan #evanuris #elven pantheon #fen'harel #dread wolf #solas #lavellan #reincarnation au #britannia lavellan #finally had the courage to write it

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theladydreadwolf · 7 years

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In Another World: Chapter 3 (Solavellan Fic)

[There’s some abuse in this chapter. Thank you @mommadreadwolf for helping me get unstuck with this chapter. xD]

After Fen'Harel's display before the entire court, Andruil decided that it was time for the festivities to end. She could only contain her temper at the insolent wolf's behavior for so long. "It seems the evening is drawing to an end, I thank all who attended.", the huntress stood and announced to the entire ballroom. Fen'Harel couldn't help the smug smirk that crossed his features. He clearly got under her skin.

Elgar'nan had seen enough of his behavior. He scoffed loudly, drawing the rebel's attention. "You must be proud of yourself, wolf. That arrogance and pride will be your downfall. Sooner than you might think.", he looked down on him with hatred and disgust within his eyes. Mythal could feel the tension building between the two gods. She placed a hand upon his shoulder, "Vhenan...I think it's time for us to go."

Mythal knew that the situation would spiral out of control because of her husband's temper. Elgar'nan looked to his wife and nodded sternly. He gave him one last glare before leaving along with his wife. Falon'Din, Dirthamen, June, and Sylaise also made their leave without as much as acknowledging him. He truly was a lone wolf within this court.

Fen'Harel glanced at Andruil and Ghilan'nain with one last smug look before he sauntered out of the ballroom. Before the doors closed behind him, he heard Andruil curse his name, followed by a loud crash of a dish shattering against the wood. He knew she would lose her composure eventually.

__________________________

Ghilan'nain tried to calm her lover's rage. Andruil needed someone to lash out at. She was beyond furious. The remainder of the servants in the room stilled and stayed silent as their goddess raged. No one wanted to face her wrath when she was angry with the wolf.

Andruil's piercing gaze fell onto Britannia. She was the reason for the wolf's behavior. Since he wasn't here to face her anger, she would serve as a lovely substitute. "Britannia...", her voice was rather chilling. Britannia swallowed heavily and a feeling of dread overcame her. "Yes, mistress?", her voice quivered slightly.

Andruil smirked when could sense the fear in her little songbird. Her cries and screams would be a beautiful sound to the goddess's ears. "Go to your quarters. Now.", the goddess commanded calmly. Her sudden calmness was something to be feared. She was like a storm when enraged.

Britannia simply bowed her head and was escorted from the room by one of the sentinels. Britannia's feet felt like lead as she walked towards her guilded cage. The young songstress didn't know what awaited her. She sat upon her bed, staring at the door in fear. All she could do now is wait.

_________________________________

Andruil sauntered into the room and smirked at the sight of Britannia sitting patiently upon her bed. The goddess closed the door with a soft click. She approached her and stopped before the young elf with her arms folded across her chest. The huntress looked down at her with an icy stare. "Do you know the reason for my presence, girl?", she asked coldly.

Britannia timidly glanced up at the huntress and shook her head slightly in response. "No, my lady.", she could feel her hands trembling with fear. She knew her answer probably wouldn't be the one she wanted to hear, but nevertheless it was the truth. She braced herself for anything because Andruil was quite unpredictable when she was angry.

Andruil narrowed her eyes at her songbird's answer. "No? Your behavior with the wolf in the ballroom doesn't come to mind?", she hissed before backhanding the elf across her face. The force of the slap made Britannia fall onto her side with a soft cry. "Ir abelas...", she tried to apologize to lessen the goddess's rage.

The huntress simply huffed. "You're sorry? Apologies aren't good enough for your actions.", she grabbed a handful of Britannia's hair, tugging her back into a sitting position. The young elf cried out once more. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes. It seemed the goddess's anger couldn't be quelled.

Andruil lowered her face to Britannia's, keeping her hand tangled within the young elf's hair. "Remember who you belong to, girl. Fen'Harel will only lead you to ruin with his rebellion. You think his honeyed lies of freedom will save you?", she hissed once again before pulling away to tug her into the floor by her hair.

Britannia cried out louder. Her hands instantly grabbed the one within her hair. She just wanted the pain to end. "No, my lady...Sathan...Ir abelas...", the young elf had tears streaming down her cheeks. She could feel her scalp burning from the pain. "Forgive me...", her voice cracked as she looked up at Andruil with teary eyes.

Andruil sneered at her before jerking her face down onto the floor, finally letting go of her hair. The goddess stared down at her like she was dirt beneath her feet. "Beg me. I want you to grovel before my feet like the slave you are. Like the slave you will always be.", she spat at Britannia with such cruelty. Her words were like a sharp blade digging into your flesh.

Britannia pushed herself up with her arms and sat into a kneeling position before the huntress. "Sathan, my lady. Please forgive me...Ir abelas...", she practically begged her. She felt so powerless and pathetic under Andruil's cruel stare. The goddess slapped her across the face again. "Louder.", she commanded.

"Ir abelas, my lady. Please forgive me.", she cried louder. Andruil smirked before raising her heel, pressing it against Britannia's chest. "Who do you belong to? I want to hear you say it.", she purred with a wicked smirk upon her lips. The songstress felt her body shudder from disgust. "I'm yours, mistress. I always will be.", she felt a tremble wrack her body as she spoke.

Andruil hummed in approval before placing her heel back onto the floor. The goddess was clearly satisfied. "You may stand.", she gestured for the broken down songstress to stand. Britannia stood slowly, legs shaking slightly. Her scalp tingled painfully, her face burned, and her spirit felt broken.

The goddess trailed her slender fingers along Britannia's reddened cheek lovingly. "Yes. You're mine.", she moved her hand from her face to lean forward and place a soft kiss upon the abused cheek. "Forever my little songbird.", she cooed before turning from her, heading to the door. She glanced at Britannia one last time. "Best you and Fen'Harel remember that.", she exited the room at last.

Britannia fell to her knees, burying her face within her hands. She began to sob. She hoped and prayed to whoever that would listen that Fen'Harel would come for her. She wanted to finally be freed from this cage. She wanted the wolf to set her free.

#solavellan #solavellan hell #solas x lavellan #solas romance #solas #lavellan #fen'harel #dread wolf #arlathan #elven pantheon #reincarnation au #evanuris #andruil #why andruil gotta be such a bitch #in another world #solavellan fanfic #fanfic #dragon age inquisition

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