Iâm so far down this spiral oh my God.
Youâre Solas. Youâve had an existence of tragedy and pain and just⌠awful. So much awful. Youâve been hurt and youâve hurt. Youâve ended the world. You had to. You never wanted this. You never wanted a body or to leave the Fade or to exist in this way. You wanted to be Wisdom.
Your friend branded you as a slave. She said you arenât but⌠Why would she do such a thing? You try not to think about it.
Your friend convinced you to extinguish the magic and spark of an entire race. And you do it. And youâre sick. Youâre sick and you canât get well. But⌠it was what your friend wanted. And you loved her and⌠isnât this how you love people?
She dies. You warned her, you begged her and she still⌠and they killed her. Her own family killed her. Youâre rage. Rage and grief and you have to do something. Vengeance. Her blood calls out for it. And yours does too. The lyrium in your very bones sings for it.
And then itâs all⌠dead. Gone. Imprisoned. Youâre nearly dead yourself. And so you sleep. For so very long, you sleep.
But now youâre walking the in the millennium aftermath of it all. You know youâre becoming something rotten not too long into this fight. Felassan fails. You donât care about why. You donât listen to him. Your rage rises up and you strike him.
And youâre truly alone now.
Perhaps you shouldâve always been.
So you bear down and while you lack much of your former power⌠you find you arenât above acquiring a tool for the job.
This admittedly horrible plan messes all the way up trying to fix what youâve done and an innocent Dalish woman gets caught in the crossfire, one of the people who whom youâre hoping to return themselves, and now sheâs got a piece of the Veil stuck in her hand.
Great. Well. Time to try to fix this enormous mess and refuse to admit that if you go through with your ultimate goal, the whole worldâs going to look like this.
And then you start to fall for this woman. Not only is she a firebrand of simple goodness and kindness, sheâs quite kind to you. She reaches out to you for wisdom and advice and talks with you, not at you. When you reach back to her, she meets you in the middle and tries her very best to understand. And then she protects you with the flimsy, unstable shield that your own mistake s have branded her with. She protects you in this world that hates elves and mages and apostate elven mages even more.
Your friend is bound and corrupted and she runs off to the Exalted Plains to help them. She weeps at your side as you grieve. She gives you space and then when you come back, she welcomes you with gladness. She tells you if ever you must grieve again, sheâd like to be there.
And you clutch her into your arms, and then again, because you suddenly realize your entire being has been yearning to touch and be touched by her for so long. Youâve never experienced anything like this. Itâs intoxicating and agony and fire and the very air you need to breathe.
You are tempted to run but⌠youâd be without her. And you ask her to just sit and talk and she obliges, happily. She enjoys you. This mortal creature who youâve branded with doom; she enjoys you.
You then start to wonder: has she always been this way? Maybe the Markâs done something to her? Maybe itâs done something to me too; maybe itâs why I canât stay away from her. So you ask and she just âmm. No, Iâm me.â And youâre so incandescent about this that you shock yourself.
You tell her youâve not forgotten the kiss. And she smiles like the dawn rising over the mountains. And you try to leave. âIt would be kinder in the long run.â But she bids you stayâŚ
You canât fit her inside your body. But you try. You keep your hands from clawing their way into her clothes and skin but your arms lock around her like they were made to do that, and only that. You want to protect her too. You want to leave it all. You want to be Solas and her to be a simple Dalish woman and to live in the quiet woods with her and dance under the stars.
You get to. At Halamshiral, you draw her into your arms and dance until you forget you have feet and until the music is long abandoned to the sounds of night.
She does something so incredibly stupid at the Well. You want to claw your face off because sheâs agreeing to what you did. Sheâs signing away her freedom⌠but then she tells you âIâll use this to help this world as best I canâ. And you feel⌠so seen by a person who canât possibly seeâŚ
You will tell her. Youâll tell her everything. But when you stand in Crestwood, in the ruins of everything you did to get here⌠you canât. You panic and you lie in that true way you have so it isnât a lie but it isnât what you meant to say. She lets you remove her culture, erase herself from who the people have become. Sheâs like you now. And oh whatever gods there be, sheâs so beautiful that you feel like you could stare into her eyes for eternity⌠but⌠what have you done?
Youâve taken from her something she didnât truly want to give up. Youâve made her change because you wanted her to. Youâve enforced your will on someone you told, you loved them. Youâre Solas⌠youâre not Mythal.
You will not do this to her.
So you do then what you can only conclude is right by her. You break her heart and you break your own and there is somehow a worse pain than anything youâve suffered before. Sheâs right there. All you need do it extend a hand, whisper one word. And the awful part, youâre so in love with her. You canât help but watch her steps and listen for her voice andâŚ
You do. And you get to work. Two years crawl by. And you have your ear out for her still. Itâs all part of the plan you tell yourself but you just want to keep a tether there in some form and you know you do.
Seeing her again is like falling on a spear. Shes dying. You knew she would. You knew sheâd come too, curious and determined as ever. But you didnât expect to hear her scream in pain and collapse in front of you. You go to your knees with her. You⌠you have to kiss her. Just one more. And you save her⌠you take her arm.
She tells you your love will endure and you could howl in anguish. She still loves you?! After all this? After what youâve done? You watch the Fade bleed from her body. You ache to gather her up and take her with you. She even asked to go with you. But you know what the Evanuris were in their determined goals⌠what youâll be by the time youâre done. Let her remember you as Solas⌠the apostate mage with stories and paint under his nails, who loved her helplessly.
You will not allow her to become another Felassan.
Eight years pass and while youâre at work, deeply committed, restless in your plans⌠she isnât gone from you. Your sleep betrays you and you find yourself watching her. You watch her call out and search for you. You watch yourself, a dream, meet her and touch her and your mind burns with the hunger for just the brush of her hand. You listen to her weep over choices she made that haunt her, and youâre unable to comfort her. You can feel her terror as nightmares assail her, and if you werenât a wolf in this form, youâd scream. You feel mad when you wake, tortured and raw and youâd run to her⌠but then you redouble your abstinence. Like opening a vein, you let the urge to drop everything and go find your Dalish heart and put her in your ribs where she belongs and never let her out. The truest horror of it all is she knows youâre there in all this. She can see you. She can see you refusing her, over and over and over. Ignoring her nightmares of being Blighted, ripped apart by Terrors and Shades, staring while she mourns the fallen who she sent to their deaths.
But then itâs all going to happen. Finally. And you donât even feel energized by it. You simply think of her. You write almost automatically, as if your hand has a mind of its own. You tell her everything you wanted to scream in her dreams. Everything you wanted to in Crestwood.
Varric dies. No. No. You kill Varric.
You use Rookâs blood to make them see him. They loved him. He loved them. Itâs⌠so cruel.
You repeat that to yourself on the steps in Minrathous. Youâre barely able to keep your feet, your ribs feel pulped from the dragonâs teeth. Your skin feels hot and wet under your armor. Youâre bleeding, so much so that you can taste it in your breath. The Blight burns on your lips. Your eye is blurred over with blood salt and tears.
And out of the night a voice speaks up to you that steals every single ounce of focus from your exhausted mind. You stare at her. Sheâs coming closer. âI forgive you!â she cries, her face pleading that you listen. Sheâs unarmed. She knows you killed Varric and she knows you could kill her. She knows you might. You can see it in the way she moves, the way her hands open at her sides as she moves closer.
Felassanâs face swims in your mind.
Please donât you want to sob. Donât make me hurt you. Iâm a monster; I told you I didnât want you to see me like this. So you try to explain again. To find some purchase on your own logic as to why this is still something you should do. Something she should allow. You look away, and you almost sigh in relief. Sheâs too bright; your eyes arenât worthy of the sight of her anyway. Youâve hurt that woman so many times. And sheâs still speaking of forgiveness?! FOR YOU?!
You almost fall to your knees in front of her spirit. You canât tell what the feeling is. Despair? Fear? Worship? Maybe all of them. But she tells you your sins are hers too. She took you from your home, twisted you⌠broke you. And you feel something slide off of you that somehow doesnât make you stand straighter. Youâre sick again. Youâre collapsing. Youâre a ruined wall, the last piece of a derelict castle on a crumbling mountain, and youâre giving way.
âBanal nadas. Ar lath ma, Vhenan.â
Mythal said that she broke you. Your being admits it. You weep, bowed, humbled⌠but free. You didnât know you were shackled. But now that the chains are off, you feel it now. The chafed wounds where theyâve been locked for centuries. The sudden lack of weight that leaves you trembling and weak in its absence. You donât remember them not being there.
But you do remember when you were able to ignore them. You remember how the Dalish woman refused to allow bigotry and hatred stop her from saving the world. You remember how she ran herself ragged for people who didnât even care if she lived. You remember how she called them innocent.
You decide, or you are finally able to decide, that you want and perhaps have always wanted, to be like her.
So you shed your blood, not that you arenât bleeding enough already, to ensure youâre bound to the Veil. Your life is its life.
âI will go and seek atonement.â You look into her eyes, as long as you can stand it. You hope sheâll be proud of you for finally being the hero she believed you could be. She looks back⌠so very beautiful. But no. No youâre not allowed to even think about that marvelous, bright creature like that.
âBut you do not have to go alone.â
The touch of her hands makes you want to collapse. One of metal and wood, one of flesh and bone. She gives them both to you. Dumbly, you look at them. Youâre touching her. This divine, unearthly thing is smiling at you, speaking to you. Holding your bloody, murderous, betrayerâs hands in hers. Yourâs tremble and bleed. Herâs do not.
But what did she say? You donât have to- No. No, Vhenan. Into that place? Into that prison? To war with madness and agony for eternity? No. You canâtâŚ
âAr ghilas vir banal.â You feel your heart crack and shatter as you say it. Youâll have to walk away from her again. Youâll have to leave her again. Youâll have to be alone, sundered from even her dreams⌠itâs what you deserve. And she deserves to be free of you. Finally.
But she just⌠keeps smiling. Her grip on your hands tightens. With a little shake of her head and a fondness on her face that you canât begin to even fathom, she sings to you.
âTel banal ar ama. Vir shiral la ma sa. Bellanaris.â
She comes nearer. Nearer. You wonder what sheâs doing and then you realize like a slap to the face that youâre being offered a kiss.
You donât think. You donât even try. Your body screams as you bend spine and ribs and shoulder down to her. Youâre filthy and bloody. Sheâs pristine. Gorgeous. Sheâs everything you arenât.
She pauses. Itâs a breathâs pause, eyes searching yours. And somehow, you know what the question in herâs means. âDo you want this?â
You donât hesitate. For the first time, you donât. You close your eyes and let the moment wash over you. Perhaps sheâll change her mind in a little while. But for this one slice of time⌠youâre going to let this one thing be entirely good.
Her lips are everything your longing has has been good enough to remind you. Soft. Gentle. But also this is⌠so unlike anything youâve experienced, even with her. Itâs not like even the first kiss in the Fade. Itâs so terribly tender that your throat tightens and your eyes burn. Sheâs so very gentle with you.
So youâre gentle back. You turn the Blight on your lips as far from hers as you can. You donât yank her against you and bury yourself in her as youâd like to. You rub your thumbs over her knuckles. You caress her cheek with your nose. And when she withdraws with an even more angelic smile on her face than beforeâŚ
You have to smile too. Itâs as if her lips have infected your own.
Rook and Morrigan smile at the two of you. You can almost feel it, like the glow of flame. Warmth. Youâve been so cold for so long. You thank Rook. They smile at you, eyes tender. And your heart smiles at them too as you step toward the Veil. Knowing. Grateful.
Standing alone for a moment feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. You almost lurch forward, considering the decision to leave her. To make her stay. But⌠no. You lack the strength to rip yourself away from her again. It would be cruel to reject her promise but⌠if it spared herâŚ
Her hand weighs down on your shoulder. Iâm here. Letâs go. Vhenan. You can feel the words, as if touch is enough for her to speak to you. Perhaps after sharing dreams for so long, itâs true. You dare not look at her. You might shove her away.
And then youâre passing into the Fade. And youâre not alone. And you feel her hope burst into a flame of unrepentant, inextinguishable joy. Joy because of you. Joy because you never have to be parted again. Joy that you finally, finally chose her after having chosen you so many times.
You could weep and you do, with how you know youâve made her feel. But when your feet are upon solid ground again and she is surging toward you with a quiet cry of Vhenan⌠you catch her. You crush her to you and she laughs, sounding like the younger woman you abandoned, and she kisses you and you kiss her because you canât bear to do anything else. And thereâs no pulling away. Even as your knees give out and your body begins to betray the amount of damage youâve suffered, you hold each other. Her tears mix with your own and your blood and sheâs all you know and all you care about. Sheâs real and sheâs here and she is with you.
Your mind stumbles over a cluster of words that reorganize into something coherent and you almost feel disgusted at them. But then⌠itâs true. You know it is. If it meant her, if it meant being cradled to her even in a prison made of regret and failure and pain⌠safe and loved and whole, in a terrible place unmade simply because of the person hiding you in the hollow of her body⌠It was all worth it.
