Chapter Text
A lone Elf walks into another vile human town, and the smell alone almost causes him to vomit in his own mouth. Just like tea. He shakes his head with disgust at the thought of that vile drink. Human eyes follow his every movement, some with disgust, some with open hatred, and some with indifference or pity. They mark him as a stranger, unwelcome, and not to be trusted. His unassuming thin worn clothing, bare dirty feet, pointed ears, and worn walking stick, mark him as just another elven beggar. They see him as no better than the rats that already infest this town.
He endures the taunts, jeers, and racial slurs in that awful barbarian language they call trade tongue. He keeps his head down, and tries not to make eye-contact. He has been attacked before, on multiple occasions by doing so. The desperate attacking the desperate, such is this shemlen society. Not that he would mind killing a few of these shemlen. But, then the blighted Templars would be called, and that is a headache he does not need right now. He is Elvhen, and once an immortal god-king. Now, reduced to this, a pale shadow of his former glory. But soon, this nightmare of a world will end, and he can finally rectify his mistakes. The Elvhen people will be restored!, he says with conviction. It will work this time! It must work this time! He cannot fail! There is nothing in this world worth saving "Mala suledin nadas .......I must…...endure". He smiles inwardly at himself. Soon, everything will change---his plan will work this time, he thinks as a knowing smirk crosses his face. He must wait just a little while longer. Soon it will be time to make things right, to rectify a mistake made by a much younger elf. He will succeed this time! He will change this world back........before his creation...........before his mistake.
It was a different time and place. Over the centuries he had waged many battles, and won many victories. Through the never ending passage of time, he began to realize that the unchanging leaders of his people, including himself, had become vile and corrupt. Their lust for power had corrupted their very souls.Everything changed when they killed Mythal, the best of them, and the only one he still respected. The Elvhen people, his People, were suffering. So, he in his pride and grief, began a great rebellion in order to free the People from their cruel self proclaimed "gods", the Evanuris. During the course of that final battle he exhausted most of his mana, but the People were still counting on him. So, in a last minute hasty decision he used the remainder of his magic to seal the Evanuris away forever. Thus, the veil was created. That mistake! Then, utterly spent, he had fallen into the deep sleep of Uthenera as his magic slowly recovered for the next several thousand years. Five years ago he had awoken from his slumber into a strange new world. He was very weak, but excited to see what his sacrifice had created. He expected to wake up to a utopia, a perfect Elvhen civilization. It would be free of corruption and there would be freedom for all. It was not to be. He had failed. If only he had had the gift of foresight, perhaps he could have changed the results of that action, that horrible mistake. It was he who created the veil, and doomed his People, forever. He was once Fen'Harel the Elvhen god who gave up his godhood to give freedom to all his kin, but was forever remembered as the betrayer of all elves. His actions alone corrupted the elves into the pitiful existence in which they now live. In a way those foolish Dalish were right. He did betray his people. But, he did not do it out of malice or spite. He did it to save them from a worse fate. Unintentionally, his actions did far more damage than the Evanuris could ever do. He growls in frustration. He was still to weak, and without his orb and its power he could not rectify his mistakes. All he could do was wait for an opportunity. So, he had spent the last several years exploring the Fade, re-experiencing memories in ancient ruins, and learning about battles both famous and forgotten. His heart wept for what was lost. He only learned one thing, that this world was an abomination and could not be saved. Felassan was wrong!
Fen'Harel walks toward center of town, and into the human Chantry. There, he will await word from one of his agents as to the status and whereabouts of his power! His godhood! His orb! He can feel it's hum.....it is nearby and drawing closer. A calming but exciting feeling. Soon that blighted creature will be dead and the Orb will be his. He curses at himself again. He regrets that this step had to be taken. If only he had not awoken so weak, then this would not have been necessary. Soon, the world will be free of the bindings he placed over it so long ago. The People will live again in harmony with the land and the spirits. His guilt would be rectified! His mind wanders a bit as he waits, pondering this human religion. He could understand and liked this concept of a Maker. He was an absent god, who only required faith as payment for his services, but had no direct contact with his followers. It was similar to the beliefs of the Elvhen, before the Evanuris raised themselves up as gods. The vile Evanuris, who would slaughter thousands on a whim. The power of human faith was astounding. He dares not stay too long, or the clerics and possibly templars would eventually run him off. His agent will have to find him later.
Unfortunately, It looks like he will have to spend the night here. So, where can he sleep? Eat? His agent was supposed to make arrangements. The inn, Chantry, and tavern are all packed. Even the floor space has been taken over by the human pilgrims. Residents have offered their homes to visiting nobles in exchange for coin. Humans, dwarves, elves, and Quanari, have all flocked to this region as a part of a pilgrimage, and an end to a war that has ravaged this land. These pilgrims, mercenaries/guards , nobles, church representatives, mages, and Templars have all come with their elven servants, secrets, and sense of entitlement to this, Haven. As he explores the town he finds it overrun there is no place left to stay.
As the day grows longer, people begin to gather around little islands of fire. The fires provide warmth and light, keeping away the darkness and cold. As the sun sets these islands grow bigger and bigger becoming a great beacon of light in the emptiness of the unforgiving Frostbacks. There is singing, dancing, drinking, and laughing. Many begin to prepare for the evening meal and sleep. He wanders around, moving steadily toward the outskirts of the town, looking for a place to lay his bedroll. It calls to mind a different era. His eyes glaze over lost in a memory; the fires become crystal spires, the distant mountains become grand floating cities, the air is alive with magic, and the spirits roam freely among the people. The beautiful veilfires are illuminating grand gardens, and are filled with magnificent colour and artistry. There is feasting, revelry, and song. He almost smiles at the memory, but then a vile stench crawls up his nose. Ugh! burnt nug. He would rather drink out of a mud hole and chew tree bark before he would ever eat that again! He shakes his head and shudders, remembering that awful taste. He quickly chases away that memory. He approaches several fires, but they are all unwelcoming. He is about to give up. Until, he smells the delicious smell of roasting rabbit, naturally seasoned. His mouth begins to water in anticipation. His belly growls, and he follows his nose to the source. He is hungry! Unfortunately, he has nothing to trade, except the clothes on his back
He approaches the fire carefully.......what trick could he use to procure some of that stew?.
He approaches a modest size campsite, a pile of warm looking furs, and several elves talking jovially with one another. He takes one step closer, and is about to speak when the fur pile moves. Instantly he finds himself facing down a large, growling, wolf blocking his path; her stance suggests one of dominance and challenge. A challenge to another wolf that has invaded her territory. She is beautiful, silvery grey and white fur reflect the moonlight giving her an ethereal look. With black markings on her muzzle, ears, left foot, and tip of her tail, she blends into the shadows and moonlight. Piercing amber-green eyes stare intently at him with barred teeth. Her head meets his waist, but her eyes look up to stare at his in challenge. On initial reaction he raises his aura to meet her challenge. The wolf in him cannot abide by a challenge to his dominance. But, his elvhen mind overcomes his instincts, and he reluctantly assumes a submissive posture. She sniffs him in earnest and growls at his staff. Intelligent eyes stare him in the face. He gets the distinct impression that he will be tolerated, but if he tries anything he will be supper. She leaves him be and returns to her place by the fire, though one eye remains on him, ever watchful. The other elves beckon him over. He greets them with the standard “hello”, in trade talk. He cannot bear to greet them as kin as these are but poor children, made tranquil by his own hand. They cannot help that they have forgotten everything. At least these are city elves, not Dalish. He cannot stand those arrogant Dalish who forgot the best of his people, and embrace and revere the worst aspects of his culture. A constant reminder of his utter failure and guilt. At least these city elves do not revere the monsters from his past. But, belief in a human god unfortunately, adds to their oppression and furthers their subservience. They are not real, there is nothing left to save, he truly believes that now. He will see his People restored. This world will burn. It must burn. The Elvhen will return!! He clears his head of his melancholy, and returns his attention to the elves around the fire.
The elves return his greeting, and ask for a tale of how he arrived here. If it is a good tale, his reward would be some of that rabbit stew and a place by the fire.
He thinks,..his belly growls, again.....he has to come up with something. He cannot tell them the truth, he is just a poor wandering beggar, after all. Hmm-mm? What tale could he tell? Maybe a memory from the Fade? Someone else's memory, perhaps? Ah! that will do. He begins the tale.
"I am a traveler, and I call the road home", he begins. "I go from town to town earning silver as I am able, enough to make it to the next town. I was most recently in the Bannorn, when I came across an interesting money making opportunity. One of the nobles was offering a bounty on skunks".
The other elves chuckle.
"Apparently a certain skunk had offended his noble wife, so he offered a 2-silver bounty on all skunks brought to him. But, as you know, with nobles there is always a catch."
Nods of understanding, from his audience.
"His daughter had become distraught with the thought of so many innocent animals being slaughtered, so all the skunks had to be brought in alive", he embellishes his tale.
More laughter from his audience
"Now, here is a secret to catching skunks", he says as he lowers his voice and whispers conspiratorially
The other elves lean in to listen.
"You must catch a skunk carefully by its tail, and then pull it off the ground, quickly. As long as it's feet are not touching the ground it will not spray you", he says with pride.
The other elves laugh with shared understanding dealing with the idiosyncrasies of humans
"It was a skill I needed to master, quickly", he continues. "The first day I caught 2 skunks. The second day 4. I was really getting the hang of it. The third day was the best haul of all. I had collected nine skunks, and had just acquired the tenth by the tail. I was ready to return to the castle, for my reward. But then, a human approached me............"
His audience reacts appropriately with shared fear and mistrust of humans
"Needless to say I was wary, especially when his friend appeared behind me. I had a fortune of skunks ready to turn in, and I did not want to lose them. But, I also did not want to get beaten up. I was paying attention to them, and not to what I was doing. So, I did not notice when my hand slowly lowered down due to the weight of the 10th skunk. Before I realized it, it was too late. The skunk planted two of its feet onto the ground at let me have it. I was so startled that I dropped the bag I was carrying....... yes the one with 9 other skunks! Before I knew it they had sprayed me as well as the two startled humans. I used that as a distraction to run away quickly."
The wolf seems to either sneeze or laugh he is not sure.
“To make a long story short I was thrown out of my room, and had to burn my clothes. I also had to shave my head, and spend a fortune on a poultice from an apothecary to get rid of the smell. I was able to replace my clothes, as you can see. But, I was unable to replace my boots, and I have gone barefoot ever since."
At the close of the story, he is offered a large portion of stew which he takes gratefully; while everyone laughs. See here he is, nothing but a harmless beggar.
As he savors the tasty food, his lets his mind drift into the area between waking and dreaming. It is there, he becomes aware of another presence. For the first time since his arrival the wolf's attention is drawn elsewhere. She begins to playfully dig and nose into the furs, initiating the sound of laughter from within. The laughter he hears is joyous, innocent, and pure. He can't help but smile, a true smile this time. Soon, a small shape emerges out from under the furs. A small elven child covered head to toe in a many furred cloak with only her, he thinks it is a her, bare elven toes and tips of her fingers visible. Quietly she goes to the stew pot and pulls out 3 portions, two she gives to the wolf and one she takes for herself. The wolf greedily eats her meal, and quickly goes back to her vigil of watching his every move. On the other hand, the child pulls out a journal of some kind, and from what he can see from his position it appears to be written in a beautiful flowing script, Elvhen? No, it cannot be. It must be Tevene or Orlesian. Definitely not trade tongue. There are periodic breaks in the script for some sort of illustration. The girl must be enjoying the pictures, as someone that young and a city elf would not have the ability to read. The book looks fascinating, perhaps he can sneak a peek later.
The wolf notices him, noticing the child, and her hackles begin to rise.
He backs off, not wanting to cause a fuss. This is, after all, her fire. He will have to simply wait for tomorrow to look at that book. Eventually, the little girl puts the book away and to his pleasant surprise she pulls out another one, and begins to draw in it.
His curiosity is peaked “Aneth ara, da'lan, may I see what you are drawing?", he asks in elvhen. Then he realizes his mistake, that child could not understand his language.
The wolf looks at him with open hostility and incredulously seeming to ask him, "Really , do you have a death wish?"
The child vigorously shakes her head, horizontally, and clutches the journal to her chest, as she responds to his question. Did she understand him? Can that be possible? , he thinks. That motion shakes her hood loose revealing flowing locks of tangled snowy white hair, and beautiful blue eyes the colour of glacial ice. What an odd color? he thinks to himself. She instantly pulls her hood back over her head and continues to draw. What is that wolf to her, he muses.
Again he finds himself drifting off somewhere between waking and dreaming. As it grows later in the evening the wolf huffs at the girl, she puts away her book and lays down. The wolf covers her with another fur, pins the child down with her paw, and begins to mercilessly lick her face, more laughter ensues. Almost motherly. He could listen to that laughter all day, it seems to even reverberate in the Fade. Soon she falls asleep curled around her wolf. The wolf does not sleep, but stares at him intensely. Obviously, this is no ordinary wolf. He looks down at the child and his mind wanders. Soon it will be over, he thinks, be patient da'lan, your future will be your past restored. I do not wish your death, but it is inevitable. I hope you will not suffer. With these thoughts he too enters the Fade.
As soon as he enters the Fade, it feels crowded. He can feel the presence of hundreds of spirits pressing against the veil, anxious to see the results and outcome of this human conclave. Or, perhaps, they are here to watch his rise to power and their freedom from the bonds he had placed around then centuries ago. The veil feels stretched thin, tight as a tarp, ready to come down in an instant, but he must do this slowly and carefully. If not, he will risk killing them, or even worse turning them into demons. He dreams happily of his plans coming to fruition, and the new future of his People
At first, he does not notice the slight presence of a strange magic pressing on his mind. Eventually, it causes him to wake up well into mid-morning. The rest of the campfire elves are just waking up, as he is. Except, there is no wolf or child they are gone. He asks the elves if any of them saw which way they went. None of them have any memory of a child or wolf. He sits up from his bedroll and hears a fluttering noise followed a loud crunch under his hand. When he looks down he sees a folded piece of paper near his fingers, torn on one side. As he unfolds it carefully, he is delighted to find an exceptionally well done drawing on high quality paper. It is a drawing of himself, surrounded by 10 skunks in a tight ring with their tails pointed outwards protecting him from surrounding humans. He cannot help himself and for the first time since he as awakened to this nightmare of a world he feels the pulling of a real smile, then a grin, and then laughs fully and wholeheartedly to the point of tears. It is in that state he makes contact with his agent.
His agent approaches him warily. She has never seen this lighter side of him, and probably will not again. Not until the world has been fixed anyway. I really hope that child survives, he thinks. Why is she alone? She is too young to be alone. Then again, she was not exactly alone. His inner wolf growls again, at the female wolf who had gotten the better of him. His mirth ends quickly, and he returns to his stoic nature. He folds the drawing and tucks it into an interior pocket of his shirt. The agent ushers him out of town, and into the forest surrounding Haven. She, then enacts a barrier to keep out prying ears.
"Report, Maya", he says
"Our spies in the temple have reported no changes. The humans are at an impasse. Too many heated words on both sides. The mediator, Justinia, called an end to the gathering until they, "Stop acting like the children they are", replies his agent. There is also a report of a strangely tanned female elf, with mousy brown hair. She keeps to herself, and is part of the temple staff. But, she holds herself too proud and self assured to be a mere servant. Also of note, there is a famous durgen'len author who seems to be a prisoner of the Chantry, and several members of the Carta and the Qun have been identified as well"
"Does this effect our plans"?, he asks.
"No, my Lord", replies Maya. "We believe sometime in the next two days your Orb will be unlocked, by that blighted creature, and the Elvhen can be reborn! Forgive me, my Lord, but may I speak freely"?
"Yes, and please do not address me as your Lord. I am just Elvhen, he replies.
"Yes, my Lo......." she continues, "You should remain here and ward off any suspicion in case the Templars sense what is going on. They could still be a threat. Right now they are blinded by their hatred, but they will unite when faced with a common foe"
"As you say, Maya, keep me informed", he orders.
Maya had given him good advice. She was after all more familiar with this world. He decides to explore Haven to learn what he can, from these so called city elves/ servants. Can children be taught? He briefly ponders the notion. Perhaps some would listen. Besides, he needs to practice his skills. It has been over five thousand years since he has had to use them to gather information. Well, he was once called a "god" how hard could it be?
He would take this opportunity to analyze the results of his past actions. Is there truly nothing worth saving? There would be no going back, their fate is sealed. What did Fellassan find, that changed his mind? He knew generally what to expect. He had read his agents reports, and explored many memories in the Fade. Now, he had an opportunity to experience things first hand in the waking world. It would be fascinating, or so he thought.
In a way, the modern elves were still the same as his People, still oppressed, subservient, and beaten down. They just exchanged Elvhen masters for human ones. It was so much worse then he could have imagined. Kingdoms rise and fall, but what had truly been lost was the meaning of being Elvhen, and that was entirely his fault. By creating the veil the People had lost their conscious connection to the Fade, their magic, and their heart. In a way he was the betrayer, the Dalish, think he is. The Elvhen are truly gone from this world. As far as he knows, himself, his remaining Sentinels, some Elvhen still asleep in Unathara, a few scattered ruins, and a few lingering memories in the Fade are all that is left of the great empire of Elvhanan. The grandeur of Arlathan is truly gone from this world. He must restore it, and he has no regrets to the future. He has no remorse to what will happen once his orb is unlocked.
Fen'Harel feels his orb approaching, so today is the day. He decides to enter the Fade, to experience first hand his future and a retreat from this horrible place. First, he begins to relax into his own memories as he walks in and out of dreams of a better time and place. He then sifts through the memories of Haven, so much death and sacrifice to what? A dragon? Really? Stupid humans. As he walks the Fade, he encounters something strange. It appears to be a barrier of some kind? It is very powerful, and made of pure will and spirit energy. Is it another dreamer, perhaps? Whatever it is it is powerful, and has been here for some time. His curiosity is peaked, who dares invade his territory? Will they help or hinder? He begins to slowly dismantle the barrier.
Then it happens. The fade shudders and twists violently. He feels his orb's power enter the fade, at the same moment his dream is ripped apart. A thousand voices cry out as one, in agony and terror. He watches, helplessly, as the once friendly spirits distort and change into monstrous forms. Then, they are sucked out a giant hole in the fabric of the fade. He wills himself to wake up.......
What happened? He awakens to absolute panic in the streets, yelling, screaming, and rioting. But why? He looks up at the sky. The sky has been split asunder, replaced by a large crackling hole exposing the raw Fade, underneath. His creation has been ripped. The veil itself has been torn open. He looks up, and sees his former friends, now, corrupted spirits falling out of the large rift in vast numbers
There is panic all around, humans, elves, dwarves, and Qunari alike. Most people are running, others are just sitting in a daze quietly crying, some are praying, and some are turning to violence. He needs to leave the Templars are coming. He is an apostate mage, and does not need to be found here. Templars are the type to smite first and ask questions later.
Fen'Harel sends out his aura, looking and seeking for his power. Where is his orb? Why did he feel it in the fade? Where is it now? He runs towards what was left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He must close this rift. He must find answers. Did the Orb survive? Where is it? He feels his orbs diminished power coming from two distinct directions, then the stronger one disappears. He feels the presence, or a remnant, of his orb, close by, but not the Orb itself. What has happened, his plan was foolproof!!
In his panic over the orb he forgets himself, and he forgets to be careful. When he is attacked by demons he fights back with the full might of his magic, as he tries desperately to reach the temple. He feels so weak, and his mana is already waning. He has only a mere shadow of his former powers, but he is still powerful. Magic used to be as easy as breathing, but not in this world. His mind is focused, ahead, and he has but one goal. He must get to the temple, and look for himself. He just runs forward; defending himself as necessary, but quickly loses track of his surroundings. He does not pay any attention to how many people he passes, and subsequently saves from the demons.
Until, he runs into the Templars, and then it comes....the smite. He feels all his mana drain in an instant, leaving him feeling raw and in agony. He screams in frustration and collapses. It cannot end here
When he regains consciousness, he finds himself in a windowless room, blindfolded, and tied to a chair. He tests his bonds, no give. He feels the manacles digging into his wrists cutting the skin. He reaches for his mana and finds it to still be gone. Fenedhis! All he can do is wait!
It seems like an eternity, but soon he hears voices coming, a key in a lock, and his blindfold removed.
A pale human woman with red hair and piercing blue eyes is staring at him from across a table hands folded. There is also an armored woman with short dark hair and .........a Templar!
"What is your name?", asks the redhead.
"Solas", he answers..........truthfully. Wait! What?
"Where are you from?", asks the one with dark hair
Solas tries to form the carefully placed lie he has constructed, but instead, he says, "a village to the North"
He quickly works to hide the surprise on his face, Etunash! (shit) not fast enough, the redhead notices. He answered truthfully again! What is going on? His mind works quickly......Ah! Truth drops. Etunash!. He should have seen that coming. An apostate elf shows up after a horrific magical event of unknown cause is not someone they would trust. As he mentally tests his limits, he realizes that he will have to use all his wiles to circumvent the questioning. He must make them believe they are fully effective. He slumps slightly in his chair, and let's his face go slack in defeat.
And the questioning begins.........
Yes, he is a helpful apostate. He killed the Demons to help the refugees, he evades, and that is why he was running toward the Temple. No, he is not from the circle, nor is he Dalish. No, he has no idea what caused the temple to explode.
As he is being interrogated, a messenger comes for the armored one, and he perks up his ears.
"Seeker, the survivor is dying, and will not wake", reports the messenger. Then continues, "There have already been three attempts on their life. Also, there are are not any decent healers among the remaining mages."
"Thank you" replies the dark haired one. "Leliana, I must attend to this, and I will return if I can".
After many hours, Solas has succeeded! They believe what he said. Stupid shems! thinking those paltry herbs would effect him! Ha!. Good! Yes, I am a helpful apostate, offering knowledge of magic and the Fade, just a harmless oppressed elf in the wrong place at the wrong time. Please let me go.
Much to his surprise, and over the objections of the Templar they release him, without his staff of course. He must find his agents. Do they still live? He must know what happened at the Temple. He cannot make anymore blasted mistakes! After his Chantry ordeal he proceeds directly into the tavern and orders a drink.
Several humans glare at him, but everyone is in such a state of shock that he is able to order and find a table filled with other elves. Luckily, one of them, was one of his. He asks a general question to the table, looking for answers.
His agent reports, "The Temple was completely destroyed, although a few "creatures" survived "everything" is lost. There was a single survivor of unknown "power" carried from the ruins to Haven"
Solas also listens to all the other elves and their stories at his table. His agent feigns drunkenness and "passes out" and without any other information he leaves a 1/2 candle mark later.
When Solas leaves the tavern his mind is in turmoil. "The blighted one still lives, how could that be? His orb was unlocked, he knows this. He also knows it is gone. It should have killed that creature instantly on unlocking. That darkspawn was the only other being of power who could have possibly stopped him. Why is he still alive? What about this survivor? He must learn more, perhaps they saw something? He recalls his interrogation from earlier. Wait, didn't that messenger say there was a survivor, but they were close to death. There was something about multiple assassination attempts, he must learn more. He must speak with this survivor, but as an apostate he has no chance.
But first, he must try to stop the breach. He is the only one who can. He does not care if he is followed or not. He makes his way toward the temple, and uses all of his power to try and stop the breach from growing. If he does not stop it now it will grow and destroy the world. That was not what he wanted. Again, he is too weak. Without the orb there is nothing he can do to stop the great rift. If only he had the anchor at least, but even that too was lost with the orb. He must either flee, or fight to save the Shemlen world. He decides he must fight. He will fight to save his People. Even if that means putting the world back together, only to destroy it later. At least he would try and destroy it humanely. He must get his foci back.
Solas has only one choice. He must join this fledgling organization, this Inquisition. They do not know it yet, but they share the same goals. He will use them for his own ends. That blighted creature must be destroyed, and he needs to recover his Orb. He must speak with this survivor, and learn more about this " power "his agent mentioned. The strange irony is that for once the humans will work for him, trickster indeed.
He approaches their headquarters, a makeshift room in the Chantry, and surrenders to the Seeker. He falls fully into his persona and creates an unbreakable mask. He is a harmless apostate, a minor healer, and an expert of the Fade and the ancient Elvhen. He is here only to help, and his name is Solas
Inwardly he thinks don't let the mask slip. The breach much be closed at any cost. They must not ever suspect. Little do they realize the wolf they have let in the door.