Aid And Abet

Jerran was tired. So tired. Tired of fighting, of making life and death situations, of scraping enough money together, feeling inadequate. His brain just wasn’t made for the education stuff, no matter how much he tried. He wasn’t a mage; there were some things that he’d never bee able to grasp fully about her Dreamer abilities and the Fade.  He couldn’t protect Eleanor from whoever was stalking her in her dreams. He was useless, he couldn’t….

What could he offer her, really? Non-noble wardens depended on spoils of war, charity, and whatever the Chantry and the treaties deigned to throw their way. Even fucking Sol-ass provided the Lighthouse as their home. Void, the armor he wore had taken six months of hard work, “borrowing” things to sell, and some creative strategies at Wicked Grace games to earn a custom fit.

And seeing the worry in her eyes every time he left for a mission killed him inwardly every time. Looking up in the mirror, Jerran saw her beautiful lavender blue eyes filling with tears and her lower lip quivering as an image of him walked toward the Eluvian where a group of shadowy Grey Wardens waited. 

A song – The Song – began softly at first before slowly building into a roar. The Wardens and the mirror Jerran twisted into leering Darkspawn. Horror filled the mirror Eleanor’s face and she turned to run as the Darkspawn lunged at her. Kyra, her glowing red eyes, hair matted with Blight, reached out to grab Eleanor’s arm.

You ruin everyone. Kyra. Senior Warden Aeneas. And countless others. It’s a pattern. 

Maybe the Voice was right. Staying as a merchant would keep her safe. Wardens made sacrifices all the time, after all. 

He’d finally get what he wanted – a family, a good reputation. A place in Society.

But was it worth giving Eleanor up? 

He hesitated and the scene changed in the mirror — he and Eleanor stood in their apartment; from the amount of trinkets on the shelves, he placed it at the time when they moved in together.

Jerran glanced around their Lighthouse apartment, trying to view it from an outsider's eyes. A lot of his furniture had been thrifted or borrowed. He'd invested most of a month’s paycheck on the bed and mattress. "It's not too simple, is it? We can get finer things in the future."

“Jerran,” Eleanor gave him a soft smile, reaching out for his hand. “I love it. Because it’s ours. That makes it more than enough, I think.”

He linked their hands together, her slender fingers contrasting with his larger ones. "You deserve a mansion with the finest library and all the wisps to play with."

“What I want….” She turned to him, her eyes bright, “Is to spend my life with you. No matter where that leads, I will follow. As long as you’re there, I don’t mind if our home is not grand. That is what makes it a home, I think."

Jerran looked down at the handkerchief in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the embroidery. Eleanor had never indicated that she cared about his lack of status; she’d always supported his attempts to better himself.

What had Danylle said when they first met? An adopted daughter of a noble marrying the merchant son of a war hero? It’s an honor.” 

Sure he had the wealth, the reputation as a merchant. But nothing indicated he was helping people. The way his “friends” sneered at the Grey Wardens who literally sacrificed their lives, the purely indulgent atmosphere… everything felt shallow.

The Gwynna in this future wasn’t the mother he remembered. That mother hadn’t cared about wealth or gold; if she had, she wouldn’t have fallen in love with his father, as much as Jerran hated the bastard. Elian was just a mercenary with little prospects.

And Eleanor… she wasn’t dancing with nobles or mingling with her peers; her parents treated her as a knicknack or an afterthought. Yes, they provided for her, gave her an education. But the girl had spent years wandering the halls of her empty house as her parents chased research opportunities. 

Was it selfish? Probably. But he wasn’t going to let Eleanor be alone, even if he was an uneducated liberati former criminal in this lifetime. “You talk too much. Fuck off,” he told the Voice.

A tap on the door. “Jerran, vhenan? Are you all right?” A note of anxiety underlined Danylle’s voice.

He stuffed the handkerchief in his armor. “Sorry, coming,” he called. He had to play it smart. Whatever trap he was in, there were more of them than him. He had to even the odds somehow; he’d wasted too much time. Jerran opened the door. 

Judging by the narrow-eyed look on Danylle's face, he’d forgotten to give his facial expression the memo. “Jerran? Are you all right? I got you more wine.” She handed him the cup.

The other guests looked anxiously toward him. “Is he all right?” Orasa asked Harvan, who shrugged.

Gwynna approached, her laughter a bit too bright and pealing. “Forgive him, he appeared to be a bit tired.” Lowering her voice, she frowned. “You have been exceedingly trying tonight, Jerran. Whatever is the matter with you?”

Danylle clutched at his arm. “Vhenan, you’re just a bit tired. Why don’t you relax and take a sip of wine?” She chuckled nervously. “We’re in the middle of a toast, after all.”

Jerran shook her off, not giving a damn that he spilled the wine again. “I want out.” He looked back at his mother; her face wobbled and distorted slightly before reverting.

“Out? There is no out. This is your home.” Gwynna grabbed his arm. Even through the thick chainmail and gambeson, her nails felt like thorns digging into his flesh.

Danylle lunged forward, grasping his other arm. “Stop it, Jerran. This is absolutely ridiculous.” Her voice warped as a second pitch – an echo of the Voice – joined hers.

Fuck! He shoved Danylle and Gwynna away from him; the girl hit the wall far too heavily for the amount of force he’d exerted. She collapsed to the floor, her arm covering her face. Taking advantage of the lull, he drew his sword and dagger. The other guests fell back, gasping in disbelief.

His mother staggered in front of him, tears spilling from the amber eyes so much like his own, pleading. “Da’len, please. Just put away the sword.” She reached up to touch his face. “You could have the life you’ve always dreamed of… just stay with us.”

Us. He stared into her eyes and saw emptiness. Something twisted in him. It wasn’t her. It never was. “I’m sorry, Mamae.” He stabbed her straight in the chest and twisted.

It’s also tied to what she experienced when she travelled through time with Dorian. She saw that blighted future and lived through its horrors. She was able to return, but the people trapped in that timeline had still experienced hell. She was Solas in that moment, waking up to a horrific future because she'd failed. And now she sees that same kind of world coming to fruition after all. No, she'd do anything to stop that suffering from becoming real, especially if it meant protecting her own people and those she loves.

She’s also painfully aware of the decisions she's made as Inquisitor. She’s no saint. If she turns her back on Solas, calls him a monster, points a finger at him, and decides he deserves to die, then she has to accept that someone else will make the same judgement about her.

We reap what we sow, and Saethre isn’t certain she’s always sown the most innocent or fertile of seeds.

2.

Saethre doesn't quite understand Solas' immortality and how that shapes him. The spirit side she understands. She’s spent years seeking out spirits, speaking with them and trying to understand how they experience the world. But she has no real context for what it means to have lived for centuries upon centuries or how an immortal experiences time or relationships.

She loves this man, but she doesn't know how someone who's lived that long would experience a brief mortal life like hers, or whether she truly had an impact on him. It's a question she struggled with for a while. Did he truly love her? She believes he did, has faith in it, but she sometimes wonders what that love meant. Did he love her as a man or as an ancient immortal who was so lost and lonely? She knows who Solas is, she just can't always grasp the scale on which he exists, or what her mortal life could mean within it (not until they get to regret prison at least).

Solas misunderstands Saethre’s relentless curiosity. He sees her hunger for knowledge, but he doesn’t realize how it’s tied to her need for control. The more she knows, the more prepared she feels, and the less likely she is to be blindsided by another disaster she couldn’t prevent. He took that curiosity for granted.

When Solas told her he walked the din’anshiral, he should have known how completely her mind would latch on that word. She did everything she could to learn what it meant and where that path might lead because, if he's walking it, she sure as hell is walking it too. You do not give Saethre a piece of information and not expect her to run with it. When she finally understood it as the path of death, she realized with some humour that she’d already been walking it for most of her life.

I suppose the other thing Solas misunderstands about Saethre is that she's ok with death. She doesn’t want to die, but she’s survived so many physical and spiritual deaths that she no longer sees death as something to fear. She’s lost her clan, her vallaslin, her arm, the Inquisition, her personhood - nearly every version of herself she once believed she had to be.

It's the difference between mortal and immortal. Saethre's always known death will come, so it has a natural place in the order of things. For years she even mistakenly believed she was a bringer of death. Solas, on the other hand, has lived so long and made such epic, awful choices that death has become tied to failure for him. He has experience with others dying around him for so very long, but he's not emotionally at peace with it, especially because he's the reason elves lost their immortality. Especially when it comes to Saethre dying.

He can't understand that Saethre is okay to die because he doesn't want her to. Of all the people he's sacrificed or killed, she's one person he will protect. He needs her to survive for a couple reasons - one is that he believes in her leadership and the world will need people like her once the Veil comes down. But mostly because somewhere in his mind, keeping her alive means he hasn't destroyed absolutely everything he loves.

So you bet your ass Solas has spirits ready to protect Saethre. If he dies, so be it. Knowing she's alive though would bring him some peace.

It's funny because they're both so obsessed with control. It's the understanding they eventually come to in the Fade together. They realize they're more alike than not - both of them have been trying to control the world, just on very different scales.

3.

Oh Dozer and Saethre. There's definitely tension between them. In another life, they probably would have made a great team, but they'll never be friends. Mutual respect is as far as they get.

The tension comes from Solas and Varric. Dozer knows Saethre loves Solas and thinks she sees him through rose-coloured glasses. Saethre thinks Dozer can only see Solas as a god and nothing more.

She understands why, but she's also fiercely protective over her own experience with Solas. No one gets to tell her what she shared with Solas wasn't real. She also sees all of this as her responsibility in which she'd get no argument from Dozer. Dozer partly blames her for what happened to Varric and it takes Varric telling him to let it go - after that experience in regret prison Dozer finally stops holding her responsible.

Over time, they come to respect that neither of them is entirely wrong. That said, Saeathre isn't above trying to steer Dozer to the outcome she wants. I love Dozer accusing Saethre of this being her mess he's cleaning up - yes it is. She accepts it and she's going to clean up her own mess thank you very much. She's got Harding, Morrigan, Dorian and Maevaris helping her pull the strings from behind the scenes. It's a good balance between Dozer making his own choice and leading, but he's surrounded by people with loyalty to Saethre - so how much of it is his choice vs how much he's influenced by others? Well, he won't necessarily ever know.

4.

Where Dozer and Saethre's interpretations of Solas overlap is they see a highly intelligent man, probably too intelligent for his own good. They both understand he's proud and is very good at twisting truth.

Where it differs is that Rook sees Solas as a god and Saethre sees him as a man. (I mean, look at Rook here - the instinct to take a praying posture is fascinting. I always thought Rook had trouble getting a read on Solas and this solidified it for me).

Saethre's determined to make Dozer see Solas beyond the Dread Wolf. Dozer wants her to see him through his eyes. But she kind of already has. She's lost bodily autonomy, her personhood, her arm, spent years cleaning up Solas' mess, had her heart broken by him and saw the rawness of his rage when he wanted to kill those mages. She knows what Solas is capable of. Neither of them believe the other is seeing Solas clearly.

I also think Rook is at a disadvantage because the Inquisitor knows far more about Rook than Rook does the Inquisitor. Saethre's been getting reports form Harding and Varric, Morrigan too, so by the time they meet, Saethre has the advantage of knowing far more about Dozer than he does of her - Saethre is a mystery to him amidst a lot of mysteries.

And the more mysterious or otherworldly something is, the more out of depth Dozer feels and so the tighter his blinders become. He moves in straight lines and tends to ram through whatever's in front of him instead of stopping to consider whether there might be another way around. Dozer's a young dwarf (26 yrs old) who's whole life has been rough, unstable and largely without structure until the Grey Wardens (and then Varric) gave him some.

Saethre's history with Solas gives her an advantage because for all Dozer's anger towards Solas, she can see how similar they are. They're both stubborn and think their path is the correct one, just get it done - whatever it takes right?

In a way, Solas and Saethre are playing a game of chess over Dozer. Every manipulation and cruel decision Solas makes pushes Dozer closer to seeing him as nothing but a ruthless, cruel god. Saethre's making moves in the opposite direction, trying to pull Dozer out of his own anger and get him to see Solas as more than what he's done to him - getting him to see the larger picture and to make a choice with everyone in mind. And that includes Solas.

Anyway, when I think of Dozer and Saethre - this look between them always comes to mind.