Mythal and Solas: Could both be lying, selfish bastards?
I'm not convinced Mythal was the victim of a plot by the Evanuris to murder her, as she claims. She could be lying about the circumstances of her demise, as well as about many other things, such as her image as Saviour of the People. No, no, hear me out before throwing rocks at me. I promise this will be interesting:
We don't know what happened in the time of Arlathan. The idol shows "a crowned figure" in terrible pain with her followers, and that's it. And by making a blood magic ritual, you can open a rift in the Fade that leads you to a place guarded by presumably a Pride demon in the shape of a wolf - we know it's Pride because a Spirit of Wisdom possesses many eyes and is the only one that turns into Pride - and that many people have speculated to be the Black City, the Seat of the Maker, the Center of All Creation, etc
Mythal claims she was betrayed and murdered. Solas also states the Evanuris killed her. But WHO orchestrated the whole thing? And who carried out the deed? And most importantly, WHY?
Now, Mythal is presented as this motherly figure, one that takes care of people and represents justice. But as we learned from the DA games, the stories about the Evanuris are all wrong. They're not Gods or Creators. They were Elven Magisters whose society thrived due to slavery and oppression. They were selfish and cruel, with Solas even stating one of them enjoyed blood sacrifices to their name.
Now tell me: where did Mythal's stories originate from? Not from the People. The records that exist and that told her past are the same fairy tale that the Dalish used to learn about their other gods.
And Solas is the only person who lived in ancient times that the Inquisitor knows. If he speaks well of her, then players will assume we have no choice but to believe him. However, we do know he was quite fond of her. Hell, they could even be lovers. And what lover is going to badmouth someone they miss and still care about?
"But you gotta take into account ALL that Flemeth did for the HoF and for Hawke! She's a good person! She helped our characters survive! She SAVED the HoF from that tower and carried Hawke all the way to Gwaren!"
Did she, now?
Do you remember exactly what Flemeth did in the past two games? Origins and Exodus (aka DA 2)? Let me help you remember:
In Origins, she doesn't help the Wardens. Not really. She was in dragon form. If she wanted, she could have decimated most of the darkspawn horde from above. Hell, she could have probably plucked both Duncan and King Cailan from the battlefield if she wanted. Yes, the darkspawn are evil and the taint is contagious, but who tf would mess with a dragon? I bet they give even an Ogre pause.
But no, she took the easier route and saved the two Wardens that were farthest from the battlefield and stayed out of harm's way.
What does she do, then? Being a powerful mage, one that could probably keep the HoF alive through most of their journey and make sure we don't die or become horribly maimed along the way?
She sends her daughter instead. And a daughter that, for reasons that become clear later in the game, has plenty of reasons not to trust her.
Now here is where Mythal's intentions become clear.
She doesn't accompany us not because she's old, since her age doesn't hamper her AT ALL, as proven when you choose to battle her and when she wipes out the darkspawn horde attacking the Hawke family in Exodus' prologue. She sends Morrigan because she's using her daughter to recover something of HERS. The piece of soul stored within the Archdemon likely belongs to her. She retrieves that piece through Morrigan.
In short, she risks her own daughter's life for SELFISH reasons. Morrigan learns Flemeth has MANY daughters, scattered across the world. And she's not wrong when she says her mother uses them when it's convenient.
Now get this: Morrigan clearly tells her mother "she's not ready" when Flemeth suggests she accompany the Wardens on their mission. You can hear in Morrigan's wavering voice how fearful she is of what her mother is asking her to do. Nonetheless, Flemeth insists Morrigan must go, under the guise of helping the Wardens, who "desperately" need her help.
Turns out in the end of Origins you DON'T actually need Morrigan's help!
You really don't.
What happens if you refuse to perform the Dark Ritual with Morrigan? Why, you or your Warden companion die while fighting the Archdemon. You vanquish evil and hurray, the day is saved! Flemeth doesn't get what she needs, her piece of soul dies with the dragon and the 5th Blight ends.
So how come Flemeth helped you in Origins, eh? She didn't, pal. Morrigan doesn't know shite about the taint, she doesn't know of any magic capable of shielding you or your companions from the contagious blood of the darkspawn you kill in your travels, she doesn't even know how you're supposed to win against the Archdemon! She DOES know about the Warden's little secret, but she doesn't know ANY magic that could easily defeat it. No, you have to fight your way through and beat the shit out of that dragon until it's actually dead. And that's it.
"But, but...she RESCUED you from the tower! She SAVED you from the darkspawn horde at Ostagar!"
You're forgettting something, pal. She NEEDED a Warden for her daughter to successfully perform the Dark Ritual. No Warden, no sex ritual, no reclaiming her soul piece. Again, she's using people - her daughter, in this case - to accomplish her own selfish ends.
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Now let's look at Exodus.
Flemeth shows up and saves Hawke from a darkspawn horde. Granted, she didn't need to do it. HOW-E-VER, she did.
Remember the magical medallion/necklace/thingy she asks Hawke to take to Marethari, the leader of the elven clan staying at Sundermount?
She needed someone to take her precious Horcrux all the way up there. So she USES Hawke after doing something that would make them indebted to her. She saves their life and then names her price: take the medallion to the mountain.
Not only do we become agents of her will, she also flat out refuses to explain anything to us by being cryptic and speaking in metaphors.
And just what the hell did she have to do in Sundermount, so close to Kirkwall? What was so damn important?
Something tells me she was watching Morrigan from afar, discreetly following her to see what became of Kieran (she does mention her daughter when you speak to her)...but that's just speculation on my part.
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Now let's take a look at Inquisition, and how it all comes together.
Flemeth is instrumental in helping the Inquisitor win against Corypheus. When Morrigan doesn't drink from the Vir Abelasan, it's Flemeth who teaches them how to summon a dragon in the fight (rather than becoming one, a skill only someone trained in it, like Morrigan, could dominate).
We also enter Mythal's temple in the Arbor Wilds and learn there are still elves SUBJECTED TO HER WILL.
I write this part of the sentence in capital letters for two major reasons:
This relates to how Cole, a spirit, was supposed to turn into a demon by remaining unprotected from Corypheus, and, therefore, subjected to his will. Mages are able to submit spirits in that fashion. And it seems the Evanuris found a way to do the same to non-spirits!
Notice how the elves all wear vallaslin at Mythal's temple, which means something very important and that probably went completely unnoticed: that Mythal MADE them wear blood writing on their face and that they were not free.
Read that again.
The elves like Abelas were not servants. THEY WERE SLAVES TO MYTHAL.
Remember how Solas removed the vallaslin from slaves who wished to be free? And why did he perform that ritual? Was that symbolic?
The answer is no. There's more to Solas' ritual than just represent freedom.
The reason is because the Evanuris likely mind controlled their slaves THROUGH BLOOD MAGIC.
The vallaslin likely contained blood from the Evanuris. And through that blood they subjected their slaves to their will.
"But we KNOW that's not HOW Mythal controlled her servants! What about drinking from the Well and Solas saying you were now bound to Mythal? What then?"
My dear reader, drinking from the Well doesn't make you obey her because that is done through the vallaslin. Drinking from the Well means you absorbed the souls of all the previous Mythal priests and are now bound to THEIR will, thus forcing you to obey her as well, even against your own will!
That's what Solas was warning you against. That's why the Inquisitor IMO should NEVER drink that shit. Especially after we learn the Inquisitor is one of the few people aware of Solas' insane plan.
So what was the point in Flemeth helping the Inquisitor in that mad fight?
Truth be told, Flemeth's role wasn't very clear in Inquisition. She was supposed to make an appearance at the temple and be betrayed by Solas (really, now, Mythal has a history of being betrayed several times over...).
Other than that, her appearance was meant to conclude her arc since Origins, by making her finally find Kieran and transfer her soul to him, turning him into the true inheritor, which was her plan from the start. A plan which Morrigan aborts and, surprisingly, which leads her mother to just...give up. Flemeth walks away and doesn't mind about her own fate anymore. She lets Solas steal Mythal's life flame and accepts her own demise.
HOW-E-VER...
We do get a glimpse of her true intentions in Mythal's warm family reunion.
You see, when asked by the Inquisitor why she's doing all this, Flemeth states it's "for a reckoning that will shake the very heavens". That's when she goes on a tirade about how she was betrayed, as the world was betrayed and how she carried Mythal through the ages, "seeking the justice denied to her".
Now this is where things become muddled in players' heads.
The Inquisitor states that FLEMETH helped heroes throughout history. Flemeth, not Mythal. And while Flemeth's backstory is tragic, it's not necessarily similar to Mythal's. Did Flemeth pursue justice for herself? Yes. Did she help people when needed? Of course.
Does that mean Mythal was behind those actions all along?
That's where I draw a big, fucking line and shout a resounding NO.
It was Flemeth's choice to help the HoF. It was Flemeth's choice to help Hawke. But did she help them out of the goodness of her heart?
The answer is another resounding NO.
The reason why she helps them both is SELF-PRESERVATION.
In the same dialog with the Inquisitor, Flemeth states that Mythal is as much a part of her as your heart is a part of your chest.
The one goading Flemeth to send her daughter Morrigan to retrieve the missing soul piece from the Archdemon is Mythal. We understand that after playing Inquisition.
But THE REASON why Flemeth goes along with that plan is because SHE ALSO DOES NOT WISH TO DIE.
"But...then WHY did she transfer her soul to Kieran? Isn't she going to die anyway? Doesn't that save Mythal? What about herself?"
My dear, naive reader. Didn't she just confess to you she became one with Mythal? Their souls are forever linked. In short, by saving Mythal, Flemeth is actually SAVING HERSELF.
Which brings us to the conclusion of this long ass post and the reason why Mythal is NOT a cute motherly figure, saviour of the oppressed, with innocent intentions toward the world.
Her personal quest begins in Origins. She finds a couple of Wardens and sends her daughter along with them for them to produce a vessel for her. She then tracks said vessel and, once it's ready, she'll fill it with her own soul and Mythal's.
And that's it. That's Flemeth's big motivation. Flemeth's, not Mythal.
Now comes the one million dollar question, the one burning in your mind, dear reader:
And what is Mythal's intention?
That's what Dreadwolf will have to answer.
But if you stayed with me so far and still believe Mythal is this holy saviour, then you haven't been paying proper attention...
Let's recap what happened, shall we?
Mythal had slaves, like every Evanuris.
She left clear instructions for them in the event of her demise (protect the Vir Abelasan).
She sees no problem in manipulating people to get them to do her bidding.
She likes to challenge authority (Flemeth, Andraste), placing the people she "possesses" in great danger.
She's vengeful and obstinate, having waited millenia for her revenge against her "betrayers".
She was Elgar'nan's wife, which means she was accustomed to being treated as a queen.
She's powerful (killed a Titan, can turn into a dragon), which would make her a formidable adversary to anyone who challenged her.
Solas, who we know to be a big LIAR - yes, omission classifies as lying -, states that Mythal was "the best of them" and that she was murdered.
Mythal is around not to save the world from impending doom. In her own words, she lingers for a reckoning that will shake the very heavens. That's to say, she no longer wants justice. She wants REVENGE.
(Thought about Anders, now, didn't you? What if Anders was a way for the devs to hint at Mythal's leitmotif?)
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Now let's try to tie all this together without falling into Solas' or Mythal's fabricated narrative:
The Evanuris - one or many - brought Mythal's life to an end. Was she a tyrant? Was she a benefactor? Did she bring this on herself? We don't know. The player doesn't know. We only know of Flemeth and her personal quest since Origins. That's what we covered in this long ass post so far.
Their action seems to have fucked shit up and caused Solas to lock them up in the Crossroads, behind eluvians.
Afterwards, he raised the Veil and destroyed Arlathan, screwing the elves over in the process.
From here on, everything becomes foggy.
Solas went into uthenera. What was left of Mythal wandered into the waking world until it found hosts to possess. She then spent a long ass time creating vessels - her daughters - to ensure her ongoing existence.
The Magisters Sidereal murder tens of thousands of helpless elven slaves in a blood fest and open a fucking portal to the Fade.
They not only find out Thedas is a godless land, but contract some sort of magical black plague.
They return ugly as shit and contaminate thousands of unsuspecting innocents in the process. The Blights begin. Nearly everyone fucking dies.
A group of people concoct a potion using their knowledge of blood magic and convert the first willing soldiers into Wardens. The First Blight is vanquished.
Somewhere down the line, Mythal possesses Andraste and, after her betrayal and death, a new religion is born.
Time passes. Four Blights happen.
Mythal possesses Flemeth and both are now trying to take advantage of the Wardens to create a new vessel.
Some time, either now or in the future, Solas awakens and hands his Foci to Corypheus in an attempt to destroy the Veil and kill the big, evil magister. His plan backfires, because of course it does, and a lot of innocent people die in the process.
The Divine dies. A temple burns. There's demons and red lyrium everywhere. And the big, swirling green ass in the sky is formed. Along comes the Herald of Andraste and the Inquisition.
Solas skedaddles and forcibly takes what's left of Mythal's soul to himself and Flemeth's physical form perishes. To say we're screwed would be an understatement.
We meet Solas yet again two years later and he spews whatever bullshit to make the Inquisitor believe Mythal was such a wonderful person and unfairly killed while revealing his insane plan to reset the world for no rational or logical reason other than his desire to play god. Sounds like you should take what this guy tells you with a grain of salt, huh?
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Finally, dear reader, we come to a conclusion. The truth is, we know nothing of Mythal save for her ardent desire for REVENGE. Not justice, but REVENGE. And what form will this revenge take is troublesome, to say the least. She has some spite against the Evanuris, but truth is in the eye of the beholder.
We DO know some of the Evanuris were downright evil, like Falon'Din - who enjoyed blood sacrifices in his name - and Ghilan'nain - who turned people into monsters. Does that mean every Evanuris or Elven Magister was necessarily evil? Did they all deserve to be locked away? Was Solas doing it to avenge Mythal or was something else going on?
And if they were indeed evil, then...why is Solas working so hard on recreating Arlathan?
Just think about it. The moment he brings down the Veil, he's giving the elven people a chance to go back to being as they were. This means that elven mages will find themselves detaining unimaginable power over their peers. And the most powerful among them will just commit the same mistakes the Evanuris did in their time: wage war on their rivals, search for more powerful forms of magic, sacrifice their people in the pursuit of power and prestige and name themselves gods.
Is that world really better than how Thedas is now? Should magic really roam free and unrestrained, as Solas wants?
Or, rather...as Mythal wants?
Because I'm still not convinced this is all Solas' plan...
...just as I'm not convinced that "wolf spirit" isn't ordering Solas around, rather than the other way around.
A reckoning that will shake the very heavens...
Solas and Mythal having a long history together since the time of Arlathan...
Mythal manipulating people for millenia with promises of power and an extended lifespan if they let her "possess" them...
I think Mythal will return in Dreadwolf...but she's not the heroine many people were misled to think she is.
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"Don’t you dare come near me!" for the dwc. Me, I'm always in for Solavellan, but please pick your favourite pairing to write for :) And welcome!!!
I don’t think I could pick a favorite pairing if I tried, I love exploring all manner of dynamics between the fantastic characters DA has given us, but this idea has been knocking around in my head for awhile now, so I figured I’d finally try to put some of it down in words. Hope you enjoy.
Fenris & Anders (Wings AU) for @dadrunkwriting
“Your coat,” Fenris blurts out suddenly after several minutes of silence pass between them while the pair makes their way back up the hill towards their respective beds after a night with Hawke and the rest of their band at the Hanged Man. “Where did you come by it?” Anders, surprised by the sudden address startles a little, coughing and shaking his head, before clearing his throat.
“I don’t recall exactly.”
“It doesn’t seem particularly practical,” the elf continues, as the mage wonders just who or what exactly has suddenly made Fenris the guardian of good taste or fashion. “What function could all those feathers possibly serve,” the warrior mumbled. “It must have been a tedium to produce.”
“Yes,” Anders agrees distractedly. “I’m sure you’re right.” Fenris stumbles, stopping to stare for a moment at the blonde supporting him, not yet nearly drunk enough to miss the fact the mage has just agreed with him, even if it is something as simple as the coat he wears. Something is wrong, and the elf is suddenly seized by a need to be certain, his left hand flying up from where it was resting on the other’s hip to run over his shoulder blades before the mage can stop him and feeling the truth of it as his companion spins away from him and takes on a defensive stance, reaching on instinct for his staff.
“It’s true,” the elf whispers breathlessly in shock. “I thought it must have been some kind of hallucination, a fever dream, but it’s true,” he continues eyes blown wide in awe, shaking his head. “I felt them. Saw them that night when you healed me. But then I forgot… You,” Fenris growls suddenly, pointing an accusatory clawed finger from beneath his gauntlets at the mage where he still stands, staff in hand, back to the nearest wall to protect his secret, his wings, Fenris thinks. “You did something. You made me forget.”
….
It was an accident, and in retrospect, Anders spends many nights thereafter going over it all again and again in his mind until he is certain he has memorized every possible detail. He’d been careless. Let down his guard in a way he has not done in years, perhaps ever. He let himself become just a little too comfortable, too complacent being counted among the Champion of Kirkwall’s friends. Oh, he is aware of the plight of mages well enough, it’s not something he has ever been able to entirely turn a blind eye to before and certainly not now he’s invited Justice to share his body. But somehow, some small, traitorous part of him was beginning to think that maybe, just possibly he was- if not safe, then at least not required to look over his shoulder quite so often as he once was. And in that brief moment, he’d risked and potentially lost everything he’s fought so hard to protect. He should have seen this coming. He was never as good at remaining free as he was breaking his chains. All those careful escape attempts from the Circle… And that it would be the warrior elf of their company, Fenris, who hates him and everything that he is and in his bitter mind represents as one who possesses magic…
Anders flirts and charms well enough, one has to be charming in order to sway or obtain the good opinion of others when you are on the run from the Circle, the Templars, the Grey Wardens, Maker’s breath but he does seem to leave a trail in his wake, doesn’t he? But he has always been equally skilled keeping others at arm’s length, going out of his way to avoid sentiment and attachment as much as possible, and always avoiding any kind of touch. Such things were simply too dangerous to be had, no matter how much the mage may crave- and in Karl’s absence- miss them.
But Fenris is injured, quite badly though the elf is doing his utmost to pretend otherwise.
By the end of their excursion and subsequent fighting that afternoon, they all are weary, battered and bruised, but Fenris is easily the worst. Anders having fought most of his opponents from a distance, and provided wards and healing for their party is low on Mana, but otherwise in the best shape to carry and care for the injured warrior. A lyrium potion or two will sort the healer easily enough. He pauses to readjust his grip on the other to help relieve some of the weight on the elf’s injured side when he feels it. Fenris’ fingers grasping at his shoulder for support feel the truth of Anders carefully maintained glamours, the elf’s eyes widening in surprise and confusion as what appeared to be the feathered collar and pauldrons of his cloak give way to something that feels and shifts in a way that is distinctly warmer, more like flesh and bone beneath the feathers rather than cloth.
Anders doesn’t know who or what he has to thank for the fact the injured man doesn’t immediately start peppering him with questions or demand to know what’s going on while the rest of the group is still within earshot. It’s not as if they have ever been anything close to resembling fond of each other, so he doubts it’s anything resembling loyalty or friendship, but he’s grateful for whatever it is that’s intervened on his behalf all the same. They make their way back to Danarius’ mansion where the elf has been squatting since they’ve still got the cover of night on their side and it is far closer than the mage’s clinic in Darktown. There’s a moment, a fraction of a second, Anders thinks as he lays the now weaker body of the elf on a table, sweat shining on Fenris’ brow while he fights the poison speeding through his veins, he could simply leave him, could tell the others he did his best, but was too late, and reclaim his secret for himself. It would be easier… But Fenris’ wide pupils meet his, as he coughs a breathy offer of ‘thanks,’ and Anders shoves the thought away. He can’t.
Fenris watches through heavy eyelids as Anders’ hands flare with magic, sweeping a few inches above his clothes and armor over the expanse of his wound. He doesn’t see, but already knows and feels the way his markings, the Lyrium branded into him will glow a little reacting to the other’s spells. It doesn’t hurt, not that he would probably notice with his body already fighting the toxins coursing through his blood, more of a strange kind of tingling sensation of electricity just beneath the skin. Anders continues a few sort of gestures, before taking a step back with an exhausted, somewhat pained expression on his face, drawing in a deep steadying breath from the effort. Fenris wonders for a moment if perhaps part of the healing process means that the mage absorbs something of the pain he is relieving. He’s never bothered to ask or think about it before, he realizes before suddenly remembering his earlier discovery.
Anders has helped him to remove what remained of his plates, leaving him in the simple undershirt and leggings beneath. Another time perhaps, if he weren’t so tired, Fenris would resent this, being so exposed, vulnerable and around the sort that he trusts the least, but the mage has just healed him, and Fenris has a greater preoccupation at the moment. Long, thin fingers stretch from the bed Anders helped him to when he finished with his spells while the healer is busy on the edge of the bed, lost in thought. The feathers feel… warm, shift a little under his touch, before Anders’ whole body tenses, head whipping around angrily as he pulls away from him.
“You have wings,” the elf whispers in awe, the glamour surrounding the mage shimmering before falling away, there being little point in maintaining the illusion any longer. “Why do you hide them? …You could be a God,” Fenris continues distrustfully, even as he fights his body’s exhaustion and struggles to stay awake, thinking of what the mages in Tevinter would do to have such a thing at their disposal.
“Or a freak,” Anders snaps back icily, before softening a little and shaking his head at him. “Get some rest,” he instructs pushing him back down onto the bed with a hand on the elf’s shoulder.
“Don’t tell me what to-” but Fenris doesn’t manage to finish the thought before he finds himself complying with the order.
Anders is gone when he wakes again. The elf supposes the mage is an experienced enough healer to have been able to tell when he was out of any kind of danger and no longer in need of his attention before he took his leave of him, besides it is hardly as though he is unaccustomed to being alone. Still, he feels a brief, inexplicable spike of anger the mage has abandoned his patient. Fenris supposes with the life he has led he is used to, even expects others to judge him to be of lesser value, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it, or take it lying down anymore. Did he even say anything before leaving, or did he simply steal away at the earliest opportunity once sleep overtook him? Fenris does his best to recall, but the evening’s events after they parted Hawke’s company are lost in a kind of fog. The effects of the poison, perhaps, he thinks.
…
“Fenris, don’t-” Anders says softly, shaking his head, worried amber eyes watching the elf carefully, hands raised in a gesture of surrender.
“Yes, do tell me what to do. Give me an order Mage, see how well it works out for you,” Fenris snarls savagely, looking every bit the wolf that gave him his name.
“Fenris, please. I didn’t-” the healer pleas softly, expression softening, apologetic in a way that only serves to make the elf somehow angrier still.
“Save it,” Fenris snaps, cutting him off. “You altered my memories somehow. Made me forget what I saw, what I knew. Do you deny it?” Anders mouth opens to speak, pausing a moment too long. “Yes or no,” the elf spits.
“Yes,” Anders admits softly, dropping his head to stare at his boots. “But-”
“You dare to lecture me on my prejudice against mages? You are just as guilty as the rest of them. Using and abusing your powers, manipulating those who have none or any knowledge of yours,” Fenris accuses, the words burning and shaming the other man where he stands before him. “You are no better than Danarius,” the elf hisses, fists clenching and unclenching, only sheer force of will, the determination that Anders isn’t worth it, preventing him from lighting up his markings and coming after him. “Keep away from me mage.” Fenris thinks perhaps he hears a soft, half-hearted attempt from Anders to call after him as he pushes angrily past, storming back to his mansion, but he doesn’t stop or look back.
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