Chapter Text
Ar ghilas vir banal.
Tel banal ar ama. Vir shiral malasa, bellanaris.
Solas was not lying when he said the prison was terrible. Lavellan looked around the vast gray void with her hand still on Solas’ shoulder. The prison felt cold, but not like the Frostbacks; this place felt sad and empty. But she knew they were not completely alone. The many regrets Solas had carried throughout the ages haunted the seemingly barren void. There were also giant, broken statues of the Evanuris scattered across the entire prison. Looking at the statues of her so-called gods, knowing what she knows now, felt odd. She and her clan had once prayed to and worshiped the Evanuris in front of statues like these in their camp. Looking back on it now felt incredibly foolish.
After she became the Inquisitor, she heard whispers among the common folk speaking half-true stories about her and her companions. She later wondered how many stories in Thedas had been twisted just like hers. Her gods’ tales were no exception. After seeing Solas for the last time in the Crossroads, he had confirmed her suspicions.
Your legends are half-right.
Eventually, Lavellan did go back to her clan in Wycome, and she told them everything. Her bare face and missing limb were enough to convince her clan that what she heard from Solas was true, but only a few of them believed what he said was true. At least in the beginning. It wasn’t until after the Veil Jumpers had been created that more and more Dalish clans had come to the conclusion that their gods were not truly gods, let alone kind and fair rulers of their people.
And that was before Lavellan found out about their war with the Titans. She had seen a fresco in the Crossroads many years ago that depicted Mythal slaying a Titan, but the reason why Mythal had done so eluded her at the time. If all of Thedas ever found out what her ancestors had done to the dwarves and the Titans… She only hopes that Rook and her team share that information with people on a need-to-know basis. Lest they share it at all.
All that has happened over the past few months has made her head spin, from Solas’ ritual to standing here with him now in the prison.
When Varric said that he was going to try to talk Solas down from starting his ritual, Lavellan immediately pushed back at his plan. She told Varric that she should be the one to talk Solas down, not him. “He’d listen to me,” she told him before he left. While he had no doubt Solas would listen to her, he couldn’t risk his friend getting herself hurt during their search. Or worse. Solas had already destroyed Thedas once shortly after Mythal’s supposed death. What would he do if he knew Lavellan was gone? Varric didn’t even want to consider what might happen.
Besides, Lavellan had asked Varric to help her find him, not the other way around. Varric, Harding, and eventually Rook all made their way to Minrathous, leaving Lavellan somewhere remote in the South, unaware of what would eventually take place in Arlathan Forest.
One day, Charter, her current spymaster, had left her two notes in her quarters. One was from Harding and one that Varric had written to Charter a few weeks prior. Lavellan asked her why she gave her the second one. Charter only told her to read it after reading Harding’s.
The first letter from her lead scout was one she was expecting. She asked that either she or Varric send her a letter every few weeks as a check-in or if they had found anything worth noting. What exactly was in this letter, however, was something she hadn’t anticipated. In fact, it was the one thing she feared the most since sending them out on this mission.
Varric was dead.
What was worse is that Solas was the one that killed him.
‘No. No, he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t. Right?’ She thought.
There were no tears. There was no anger. She felt nothing.
For a brief moment, she was in complete denial that what she read was actually true. Maybe Harding got knocked in the head, and she thought she saw Solas stab Varric.
She decided not to think about all of the potential possibilities and opened up the letter that Varric left for Charter. She carefully unfolded the parchment and sat down at her desk to read it.
Charter,
Yes, the trail went cold, but we haven’t entirely lost it. Solas left us a little farewell note. So I’m not giving up just yet. Maybe it’s gullible of me, but I know the Inquisitor feels the same: Solas isn’t too far gone to save. And she’d never forgive me if I didn’t try. But I don’t think I’m in the wrong here. Solas didn’t have to warn me and Harding off the chase when he could’ve killed us like the others who came after him. I don’t think he wants to do this. So, I’m taking the chance. Tell the Inquisitor… tell her I’ll bring him back.
–Varric
That was when she finally allowed herself to grieve. He was doing this for her, as well as himself.
She stood up and left the tear-stained letter on her desk. She went over to her small bedside table and grabbed her sending crystal. She rarely took it off since Dorian had given it to her at the Exalted Council, in case he ever needed to contact her, but today, she had been out in the field with her soldiers. They had reported an area they had previously been patrolling had suddenly sprouted strange boils of blight from the ground. She didn’t want to risk losing the crystal to any potential darkspawn. She fumbled wrapping the cord around her neck while her hands shook and sat down on her cot. “Please be there. Please be there,” she mumbled and bounced her leg in anticipation. She needed to tell someone, or she might’ve gone insane. She only hoped Dorian wasn’t in another Magisterium meeting. After another minute or so, the crystal lit up and hummed to life, meaning Dorian had opened his half. She cut him off before he could even utter a single word, “D-Dorian…” Her voice trailed off, “I… I need to t-talk to you. Right now.”
Dorian paused for a moment. Whatever he was going to say had been pushed to the back of his mind. “I take it it’s not good news, judging by your tone?” He asked.
“No.”
“Are you all right?”
“No. No, I’m n-not.” Her voice continued to shake, and her tears kept flowing in continuous streams.
“What is it?” He asked.
How should she go about this? Rip it off like a band-aid or start from the beginning? She decided not to traumatize him with a single sentence. “Are you—” she cleared her throat, “Are you alone right now?”
“Yes. I just got back from the Magisterium. Why?”
“You might want to sit down if you’re not already.” She heard a soft scratching noise of a chair being dragged across the floor come from the crystal. She took a deep breath, thinking of where to start, “I just received a letter from Harding. She said that she and Varric traveled from Minrathous to the Arlathan Forest by eluvian. It was one of Solas’.”
“So he was here. I’ve had a few of the Shadow Dragons search the surrounding areas in Docktown, but they’ve always turned up with nothing of importance.”
“Yes. Harding said his hideout was somewhere near the edge of the canals.”
“I’ll have the Shadows look into it. They may find something our dear scout had missed. What did she find?”
She walked back over to her desk, picking up the letter. She wanted to make sure she got everything right. “They found Solas in Arlathan. He had already begun his ritual.”
“Of course he did. The sky had begun tearing itself apart. Again. Demons were everywhere. It felt all too familiar.”
“It happened here too.” She said somberly. Except this time, she’d have no Anchor to close these rifts. She felt powerless seeing the Veil torn open again. “Harding said that Varric went to try and talk Solas down,” she continued, “He would distract him while she and Rook went around the ritual site and knocked down one of the surrounding statues. One of the statues collapsed, Solas tried to stop it, then Varric attempted to grab the dagger Solas was using.” She paused.
“Attempted?” Dorian asked.
“Yes.” She replied. Dorian was silent. Lavellan had a feeling he knew where she was headed with this. “Varric t-tried to grab the dagger from Solas… But he… He…” She let go of the letter and let it fall to her desk. “He’s dead, Dorian. Varric is dead.” They both sat in complete silence for what felt like hours. Lavellan heard Dorian quietly sniffle through the crystal.
“Does anyone else know?” Dorian eventually broke the silence.
“Not that I know of. I’ll have to tell our friends. Cole probably already knows; Cassandra will kill me if I don’t tell her soon and—Creators,” she gasped and realized Cassandra would be the least of her worries, “Hawke. Hawke needs to know first. He will definitely kill me if I don’t tell him first.” She placed her hands on her temples, trying to massage the growing migraine away.
“Don’t fuss over sending all of those letters. You just write the one to Hawke. Let me worry about the rest.” He told her.
“Dorian, I can—”
“No,” he said sternly, “You have been stressing about all this for the past decade more than any one of us.” He was right. She did worry a lot more than her other companions, even back then. “The last thing you need to worry about is a number of painful messages to write and send out before the day is done.” He continued. “I can have the Shadows track down their last known locations and give the letters to them directly.”
Lavellan had never been more grateful to have Dorian as her best friend. She didn’t know what she’d ever do without him, and she never wanted to find out.
She smiled sadly; her lower lip was still quivering. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Nobody does.”
She slightly chuckled, “I’ll make sure Bull knows that. Give him a hug for me, will you?”
“Of course. Only if he doesn’t crush any more of my ribs. I’ll let you know what the others say, and if they have anything worth sharing, you’ll be the first to know.” He paused, briefly thinking of the amount of letters he had to start writing. It was going to be a long night for the both of them. “Was there anything else in the letter?”
She picked up the crinkled letter from her desk again, trying to find where she left off. “Oh yeah, um, after Rook was knocked out cold, Solas got himself trapped behind the Veil. And in doing so, allowed the remaining Evanuris, Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, to be released from their prison.” She chuckled cynically and slouched down in her chair. “It never fucking ends, does it? Here I am searching for the man I love, the same man who was remembered to be one of the gods of my people, for a damn decade, and when we do find him, one of my friends is killed by said man, and now he is trapped in a prison beyond the Veil.” She finally sighs, catching her breath. “Oh, and did I mention that my gods, who are slave-owning tyrants, are now up and walking around Thedas and blighting everything in their sights…” She shakes her head in disbelief. “First the Fifth Blight, then the mages and templars at war with each other, Corypheus, Solas, and now this!? Didn’t we just kill the last wannabe mage-god that uses the blight?”
“I believe that was ten years ago, my friend.” He quips.
“It feels like ten minutes.” She grumbled with her head in her lap. She sat there for a moment, feeling a little better now. She took a deep breath through her nose and sat back up straight in her creaking chair. “Thank you for listening to me rant.”
“Anytime. What would you do without me?”
“Probably lose it.”
“Well, that is why I am here for you.”
They talked for a little while longer; the sun began to set in Ferelden, but eventually she did retire for the night. However, she refused to sleep before writing and sealing her letter to Hawke. She gave it to Charter, telling her it must be sent right away. Only then did she allow herself to dream.
Lavellan never stopped looking for Solas in her dreams, even after she learned he was trapped in the Fade prison meant for Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. But she never found him. She knew he wasn’t dead; if he was, she’d know it. Only Cole offered her comfort in her dreams then. He had returned from the Fade for a brief time when she was awake one night in her camp. He had comforted her many times in the past when she had nearly given up hope on finding Solas. Now, he had returned, and he promised not to leave her side until the pain and suffering was quiet once again.
For weeks she would receive reports of the darkspawn attacking the surrounding nations across southern Thedas.
The darkspawn had cut through Orlais, and Val Royeaux and Halamshiral were holding on by a thinning thread. The civil war between Empress Celene and Grand Duke Gaspard had left Orlais scarred and vulnerable, and the Orlesians were still cleaning up the remnants both on the battlefield and behind council chambers.
Ferelden simply could not catch a break. The Fifth Blight nearly wiped it off the face of Thedas, only to be hounded again by the Sixth and Seventh simultaneous. King Alistair had requested help from Orzammar after the darkspawn had destroyed Denerim. Many of the dwarves from Orzammar had no choice but to flee to the surface as the darkspawn had completely flooded the underground tunnels and cave systems. The dwarves that survived made their way to Redcliffe to lend whatever help they could to the Fereldans who were holding the line at Redcliffe Castle.
Unfortunately, The Free Marches were no better off. In fact, that was where the worst of the fighting took place. The blight had spread rapidly in that corner of Thedas, allowing the darkspawn access inside the walls of Hightown and throughout the rest of the city. Lavellan’s agents reported the blight had started spreading in the Gallows around Knight Commander Meredith’s final resting place. Before he left on his hunt for Solas, Varric had left Aveline in charge as acting Viscount of Kirkwall. With the blight spreading so quickly, Aveline had no choice but to evacuate her people and what was left of her army out of Kirkwall. She led them to Starkhaven, where they helped Prince Sebastian and his people fend off the incoming darkspawn from his city-state.
While Lavellan had disbanded the Inquisition at the Exalted Council, her allies and friends had not forgotten what she and her people had done to help them in years past. She used whatever weight her name still carried and offered to send aid to whoever she could, all the while keeping her own people safe from her gods’ minions.
She mainly used her connections to help her allies in the South, but she would also occasionally receive word from her allies in the North. Dorian, Morrigan and Harding were the few she could trust on being her eyes in northern Thedas. After Solas’ ritual went haywire, Morrigan had mysteriously appeared in her camp, claiming that she would happily help Lavellan in whatever way she was able. That included allowing her access to her eluvian network in case she ever needed a quick escape, whether that be from the blight or the gods themselves. Or, what would be more likely, she would have a way to travel from the South to the North in a matter of moments to speak directly to Rook and her team.
Dorian and Morrigan were feeding her information on Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain’s activities in the North with the help of the Shadow Dragons and the Veil Jumpers. Harding was corresponding with her on what she and the rest of Rook’s team were doing since Rook had taken over for Varric. Lavellan, of course, would send them updates of what was happening with the darkspawn in the South, whether it was by letter or her sending crystal.
While Lavellan was waiting between missives from her allies, she would try to be out in the field with her soldiers as much as she could by helping them evacuate small villages and wandering Dalish clans. The last clan she helped escape from the blight was near an ancient elvhen ruin. And there was something waiting in its depths. She could sense it. She sent her men back with the clan to her camp, but she kept Cole with her as they both entered the empty ruin. It was dark and the air felt damp. There was a small brazier in the wall, Lavellan took it and lit it with veilfire. She could see remnants of chipped fresco paintings along the stone walls. They reminded her of the frescoes she saw in the Crossroads eight years ago. They were broken and faded, only telling part of a larger story. She and Cole continued to walk further down and there, just at the end of the tunnel, they could see a soft blue glow. As they stepped closer, careful to avoid any possible traps, they noticed it was a small wolf statuette. “Solas.” She whispered to herself.
“Yes. But not our Solas. Our Solas is far away. This one is younger, much younger. He is still sad but also angry. They didn’t listen” Cole said.
Even though she had no idea what it was for, she knew the magic around the statuette felt familiar to her. It reminded her of him. “I’ll send word to Morrigan,” she said turning to Cole,” Perhaps she can shed some light on what it is.” She carefully cradled the statuette, and they headed towards the mouth of the ruin.
One night, the darkspawn had found the Inquisition’s camp. Lavellan was woken up with a jolt. Charter had been frantically knocking on her door. After apologizing for waking her, she reported that a massive force of darkspawn was headed straight for them. A scout had seen the glow of their blight boils in the dark.
The darkspawn Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain had sent to the South were merciless and unyielding. The blight had mutated them in horrifying ways no one had thought possible. Many of Lavellan’s soldiers and agents were either killed or returned gravely wounded when she sent them out to aid her allies. The overwhelming feeling of guilt she had felt when Haven was destroyed a decade ago had returned.
She refused to let this be another Haven.
Lavellan had no choice but to lead her forces back to the stronghold that had sheltered her and her people back when the sky tore itself asunder.
Skyhold.
As much as she loved Skyhold, everywhere she looked, she was painfully reminded of Solas. She would wander the halls of the castle alone at night, both back then and now, just to take a breath from the chaos Thedas was throwing at her. However, this time, she did not dare enter the rotunda.
She used to stay up late and watch Solas paint the murals of her deeds along the rotunda. The subtle sound of his brush against the stone was comforting. She easily fell asleep more often on the couch Solas had set up in there, listening to the gentle swipes of paint being glossed across the walls. She would later wake up back in her bed the following morning with the blankets tucked in, cocooning her.
Solas would carry her up to her room every night and leave her with a gentle kiss on the cheek, leaving her to the dreams he would soon find her in.
Now that Solas was gone and the rotunda was destroyed, it only brought her more heartache. It had been damaged by the regret demon Sutherland’s company found there years ago. When she read their report on the matter, she quietly cried herself to sleep that night. The last piece she had of Solas was gone.
Even now, walking past that door made her stomach flip. A small reminder from the wolf statuette was comforting, but to be surrounded by her story and deeds that Solas painted for her…
No… No, that was too much.
He left them there so history would not misremember what she had done to save the world from Corypheus. That still did not stop all of Thedas from calling her ‘Your Worship’ and ‘Andraste’s Chosen.’ She hated it.
I wasn’t Inquisitor by choice. Whatever my life was before.
Much like Inquisitor Ameridan, she never wanted the job, but it was thrust upon her anyway. She was far too young, only 22 years old, and naive. She was her Keeper’s First, a mage who enjoyed exploring the Fade and learning from its ancient mysteries, not some heroine like the ones in Varric’s stories. It was not that she didn’t care about the people she helped or that she didn’t want to stop Corypheus, but she never saw herself as, how the humans put it, the Herald of Andraste. She didn’t feel chosen for this life. What happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes was just an accident. An accident she was still trying to clean up a decade later. And Solas was certainly not making her job any easier.
When Morrigan had come to her for the final time, saying Elgar’nan had started his ritual and asking her to join her in Minrathous, she knew she would not return. She quickly packed a small bag of essentials she might need and some mementos she refused to part with. A spare change of clothes, some healing potions, her sending crystal, Varric’s letter to Charter… The last thing she grabbed was the letter that Solas had meant to send her shortly before his ritual began, but never did. Rook had found it in the Lighthouse and given it to her.
What I feel for you will never change.
She refused to give up on him. Despite all the tears and pain he had caused her, she still loved him. She had to try again, both for him and herself. She said her farewells to her allies and the castle she had called home for a year and joined Morrigan in the Crossroads.
Upon reaching Minrathous, Morrigan and Lavellan had agreed to split up. Morrigan would go off to aid Rook and her team directly while Lavellan would meet up with the Veil Jumpers.
As Lavellan made her way further from the eluvian, she came to a small courtyard near a statue. She believes Dorian had called it Our Lady of Victory. From there she could finally take in her surroundings and see the damage that Elgar’nan had caused to the city.
Well, this part of it at least.
Everywhere she looked, she could see blighted tendrils wrapped around numerous buildings and blight pools gurgling in various spots on the uneven street. Everything was tinted red from the eclipse, and the rotten stench of blight flooded her nose. There was the occasional ghoul and hurlock that emerged from the pools; their shrieks were loud and painful to listen to. They all marched towards the tendril as if they were being called to it.
She later glanced up at the sky and stared directly at the eclipse. The remaining light from the sun that was still visible covered the sky in a blood-red hue. There was an old legend she was reminded of called The Emergent Compendium. Part of it revolved around an eclipse and Fen’Harel.
Two shadowed spheres among stars. An eclipse as Fen’Harel stirred.
She knew Solas was somewhere in the city, but would the Dread Wolf bare his fangs before the day is done? She didn’t know if she wanted that question answered or not.
Lavellan noticed the blight tendril leading to the Archon’s Palace. Morrigan had explained what had happened as they were traversing through the Crossroads. Elgar’nan had taken control of Minrathous and resided in the Archon’s Palace. She also said Solas was one of the few who had made it in the city right before Elgar’nan commanded his forces to lock off the front entrance. Solas would most likely head straight for Elgar’nan, and where else would the All-Father be if not the only throne in the city fit for a god.
So she headed towards the root of the tendril while doing what she could to avoid as many darkspawn as possible. She could see groups of them further ahead and did her best to stick to the shadows.
Unfortunately, her luck did run dry.
A blight boil had materialized from a surrounding blight pool in the cracked pavement, and a hurlock alpha appeared with its jagged axe at the ready. It roared an ear-piercing sound that made Lavellan’s ears ring slightly as it charged towards her. She readied her staff and managed to cast Immolate before it reached her. The darkspawn halted in its tracks momentarily as it was engulfed in flames. The smell was horrid, and it made her stomach churn.
Eventually, the darkspawn regained its bearings and continued its path towards her, stomping loudly and shaking the already uneven ground. It raised its axe high, ready to strike, but just before Lavellan could counter it, the hurlock was encased in ice.
The Veil Jumpers had found her. And they weren’t alone.
Strife and Irelin were the first to emerge from behind the darkspawn. Irelin obliterated it with fire and lightning while Strife rammed his sword through its chest. As they caught their breath, they turned to face her. Their eyes widened upon realizing who she was, and they bowed their heads to her.
“Andaran atish’an, Inquisitor Lavellan.” Said Irelin.
“Morrigan mentioned that you would be nearing the city. But we were expecting her to be with you.” Strife said as he sheathed his weapon.
“Aneth ara, Strife and Irelin of the Veil Jumpers. Ma serannas for the assistance. Morrigan is currently lending her aid to Rook and her team. I, on the other hand, was hoping to find you on the way into the heart of the city. Unfortunately,” she motioned to the blighted corpse, “my stroll was rudely interrupted.”
“And just in time for me to rescue you out of harm's way once again, my friend.” Said a friendly and familiar voice.
“Dorian.” She said once she laid eyes on her dear friend. She dropped her staff and nearly ran towards him with a hug.
“Miss me already, Inquisitor?” Dorian said in his usual chipper yet casual manner. He held her tight for a moment, relieved to know that she was still alive, then he pulled back and smiled at her. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“The feeling is mutual, ma falon.”
The reunion between the two friends was brief, but it was a small comfort amidst the chaos. It did not last much longer, however, for they could hear numerous genlocks and foot soldiers further in the battlefield. Lavellan picked up her staff, and Dorian led the trio back the way they came. “Come, Maevaris is waiting near the entrance.”
The battlefield was plagued with darkspawn and Venatori. Lavellan could see Venatori mages preparing to cast their magic towards the Crows. They never got the chance. The Crows effortlessly cut them down before most of them could conjure their magic to defend themselves. They, and the Lords of Fortune, were clearing a path for the Veil Jumpers so they could focus on disabling the warding crystals surrounding the entrance. Strife and Irelin had left her and Dorian to help them. The Grey Wardens were mainly focused on the darkspawn as well as the giant red lyrium juggernaut blocking the main path. She could see the Mourn Watchers assisting them with a small army of undead they had summoned to help.
“Dorian!” They heard a voice from across the battlefield. It was Maevaris. “Over here!” She was standing behind the juggernaut; her staff was locked with a Venatori spellcaster’s. The magic at the end of his staff was sizzling in spurts. Maevaris’ barrier was slowly fading, and it would not last against another strike of magic. Lavellan and Dorian both Fade Stepped in her direction quickly while carefully dodging the surrounding fight and helped her take care of the mage. Flashes of fire and necrotic magic swirled around them as they focused on sending it in the spellcaster’s direction.
By the time the mage was nothing more than a pile of ash, Maevaris was bent over and heaving gulps of air. She put her hand to her chest, then stood up straight and slowly began to correct her breathing. “Thank you. Both of you.” She said.
“Don’t mention it, Mae.” Dorian replied.
“Inquisitor Lavellan,” she turned to her with a small yet warm smile, “It’s an honor. Though I wish we’d met under better circumstances,”
“Likewise,” she replied, “I’m glad you’re alright.”
“Thanks to you two. Dorian has told me a lot about you.”
Lavellan turned to Dorian with a grin. “Oh, has he now?”
“What!?” Dorian exclaimed, sounding offended. Though she could hear the sarcasm behind it.
Maevaris chuckled, clearing a few stray blonde hairs that had fallen in front of her face, “Only good things, I promise.”
Lavellan smiled; however, her smile quickly fell when she heard more darkspawn approaching. All three of them turned their heads in the direction of the shrieks and readied their staffs. The remaining Grey Wardens joined the three mages just after Harding, Evka, and Antoine had taken care of the red lyrium juggernaut.
Once their path was clear, they pushed forward to rejoin Rook’s team and the remaining faction leaders. As it turned out, they needn’t venture too far. Maevaris led them through a back alleyway, now mostly clear of the blight, where she knew what was left of the Shadow Dragons would be hiding. They came across a door that was supposed to lead them to their makeshift base. It had been bent in slightly, and there were claw marks covering the wood. “Darkspawn.” Evka hissed.
“It doesn’t look too sturdy. Here, help me push it.” Lavellan said to Evka. They used their shoulders to knock against the door, bracing themselves with their opposite hands. The door refused to open on the first few tries, but eventually it gave way. To their surprise, Rook had been behind it with Morrigan and a few of her other companions. “Apologies for missing the war council. We got inside the city with the Veil Jumpers.” Lavellan said to Rook. Her authoritative mask had not fallen yet, but the closer she got to Solas, the more she knew it would begin to crack. She had to keep her emotions in check. She couldn’t slip. Not now.
“It gave us a chance to strike back at the Venatori.” Dorian said as he came up from behind her.
“Whatever you did unblocked entrances to the Divine’s manor. It also destroyed some of the blight.” Maevaris said, sounding grateful.
One of Rook’s companions, the detective, was covered in blight. Maevaris offered to have her people take a look at her to see if they can help. They all headed inside the safe house to recoup and plan what to do next.
Lavellan, Dorian, and Morrigan gathered in front of the fireplace ahead of Rook to discuss how to go about reaching the palace. It was only small ideas; they wanted to wait until Rook had arrived, but it was something to distract themselves with.
After a brief silence, Dorian turned to Lavellan and asked, “When this is done—you’ll be off again?”
“Something like that.” She replied. She looked at him with sad eyes and smiled. She didn’t need to elaborate. He had a feeling he knew where she was headed.
Once Rook had finished gathering her team together, they all started tossing ideas around about Solas’ fate. Lavellan agreed with none of them. She just wanted to talk to him. But nobody else cared about him like she did. All they saw was the trickster god Fen’Harel. They didn’t want to see him as anything else. They seemed to be leaning towards tricking him with a fake version of the dagger Solas had previously used to cut the Veil. The one he used to kill Varric.
No. No fucking way.
She kept her thoughts to herself, but Morrigan noticed her eyelid twitch at the suggestion. The Inquisitor’s mask was slipping, and Lavellan was peeking through it. She looked at Morrigan with slightly misty yet piercing eyes. “Morrigan. Sathan.” She pleaded.
The two of them had never been close, but Morrigan respected her enough to be willing to try. She had helped her find Kieran in the Fade all those years ago, and Lavellan did heed her advice when she offered it to her. Save for her drinking from the Well of Sorrows, although Morrigan was rather thankful she did not drink from it herself after discovering her own mother’s involvement.
Morrigan briefly pondered what to say, then looked across the table to where Rook was standing. “Rook,” she exclaimed, “You still carry the essence of Mythal from the Crossroads, yes?”
“Uh, yeah.” She pulled the miniature idol of the All-Mother from her back pocket like it was a piece of trash ready to be thrown in the garbage. “But why would I—”
“Twould be a fool’s error to simply cast aside the aid of a god-like being in a battle such as this, would it not? I ask that you reconsider your plan of trickery. You would be no better than the Dread Wolf himself if you were to venture down this path.” Morrigan smiled knowingly.
Rook was taken aback and opened her mouth, ready to bite back at Morrigan’s remark. But whatever speech she had planned was cut short when Lavellan spoke up. “Please, Rook. Varric wanted him saved just as I do.”
“How do you know?” Rook remarked. She crossed her arms and spoke in a defensive tone. She knew Varric had wanted to save Solas back at the ritual site, but right now she didn’t care and let her anger towards Solas fuel her words. She couldn’t care less what happened to him, especially not after what she witnessed in the Fade prison. “How do you know that that is actually what Varric wanted and you’re not just using him against me to get what you want? Because now you’re starting to sound like Solas.” Rook scoffed and looked away. “You two really are perfect for each other.”
The whole table went silent. Harding’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. Emmrich and Bellara shared her expression, while Neve, Lucanis, and Taash turned their heads away from Rook. They couldn’t believe she had just said that. To the Inquisitor.
Lavellan’s expression didn’t change. She placed her fists slowly on the table and spoke in a low and serious tone to Rook. “I know what he is. I know what he has done. I’m not here to excuse his actions. Yes, my opinions are biased, but they’re not clouded. If you won’t believe me, fine. But I suggest you read this before you do anything even more stupid.” She said as she reached into her breast pocket to reveal the letter Varric wrote to Charter. She tossed it onto the table for Rook to pick up.
Rook picked it up with little care and scanned the letter quickly, only to slow down and pause before realizing who wrote it. She stared at Varric’s signature at the bottom of the page and remembered his words to her in the prison.
I made the choice. To talk to him. To try to reach him. My decision. My sacrifice. And you don’t get to take that from me.
She looked up and saw Lavellan staring right back at her. Her face remained stern, but her eyes had gone soft, and all Rook saw was the look of someone who had lost too much too many times. “All I’m asking is for you to try. Please.” She said, with her voice slightly quivering at the end.
The feeling of loss was still fresh for Rook, especially since she had just lost Davrin. Both she and the Inquisitor had lost Varric. And she wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone, no matter how much she disagreed with the Inquisitor's taste in men. “Fine.” Rook sighed. “I will try…” The unspoken, “But I’m not doing this for you,” was heard by everyone at the table.
“Thank you, Rook.” Lavellan smiled slightly, letting go of her breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
“But if he does anything else—”
Lavellan cut her off and held up her hands defensively. “Let me at least try to talk him down before you stab him in the back, yeah?”
“All right.” Rook grumbled. She hated this.
Lavellan quietly rubbed her eyes free of tears, and her face returned to its neutral state. Rook and her team now only saw the Inquisitor. Not Lavellan. Dorian was the only one who could see the war that was waging in her head. She had to wait at least until Elgar’nan was dead. At least until Solas was within her reach. She was determined to reach him. She would make sure of it.
It had only been about an hour since Rook and her team had left to climb the tendril leading to the Archon’s palace, and Morrigan, Dorian, and Lavellan had returned from below, now finished fighting the last of Elgar’nan’s forces. Lavellan still hadn’t seen Solas since all of this began, but she did hear him.
The sound of a wolf’s cry echoed and reverberated throughout the palace and shook the camp at the base of the tendril. The sound was agonizing for Lavellan to hear. Her heart, her vhenan, was in pain, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Dorian tried to calm her. He even offered to find her some fluffy earmuffs to muffle the noise, and while she appreciated the gesture, it did not bring her any comfort. Eventually, she could only hear Lusacan roaring above Minrathous’ clouds and not the howls of the Dread Wolf. That was when she really started to panic.
She slammed her fists against the table, causing Dorian to startle. “That's it! I can’t take it anymore! I’m going up there.” She said, her voice thick with emotion. She grabbed her bag and her staff, then headed towards the back door.
“Absolutely not.” Dorian grabbed her right arm just above her elbow before she could go any further. She whipped her head around quickly, her long hair barely brushing Dorian’s nose, and looked at him with watery eyes. “Not by yourself you aren’t. I’m going with you—”
“No! I already lost Varric. I'm not losing you too!” She shouted. The tears were flowing down her bare cheeks, and the look on Dorian’s face made it worse. Her mask had fallen, and he saw how scared she was. For him, for Solas, for herself. If she lost anyone else, she would break.
He remembers the last time she did.
It was right after Crestwood. Solas made it all the way back to Skyhold alone. Lavellan came back early that next morning, when the sun had not yet shown a glimmer in the sky. Dorian had not gone to bed until she showed up. She spent the next few days in her room, refusing to speak to anyone. Eventually Dorian left the rotunda, not sparing Solas the slightest glance when he walked past him, and made his way to her room. He had to magically break the seal on the door just to enter the tower that led to her quarters.
He had found her curled up in bed with the sheets covering her face. The only sound that filled the room was the quiet sniffles coming from beneath the blankets.
She knew it was him by the sound of his footsteps; he didn’t need to say anything.
So he didn’t. He took a seat on her lounge chair and waited for her until she was ready to talk.
But that was then. Back when they had all the time in the world. Now, with Elgar’nan wreaking havoc across his homeland, he couldn’t be patient with her. The world was ending again.
And they were out of time.