#mumblings

Like, maybe you died. You died in your best friend’s arms because they couldn't save you. They were too late.

(Because you weren't meant to be saved.)

They cradled your body (still warm, still alive-) and murmured reassurances that you're going to be fine, you aren't going to die, you have to stay with them, please they can't live without you-

But, it's over. Your heart stopped. There's nothing they can do about it. Or, rather, there shouldn't be anything they can do about it.

Your best friend is a hero. They're brilliant and bright and so very open about their relationship with you. The people ask what happened to you. Your best friend says, "They're doing just fine. We had dinner together yesterday."

You're still alive, they tell themselves. You're simply asleep and resting. Soon, you'll be able to smile at them like nothing ever happened.

They keep pretending like you aren’t a pretty corpse kept pristine in their grasp. They keep telling people you’re alive. They keep telling stories about you, keeping the memory (the existence) of you tied to them. Who would doubt them? They’re a hero. There’s no reason for their words to not to be the truth. The people love them. The people love you.

Their efforts pay off.

You wake up.

It’s a miracle.

When you check your wrist, your Trust value appears, encircling it. The number is high. Too high.

"What did you do?" you ask numbly. "Answer me."

They smile softly, lift your hand, and press a kiss against the inside of your wrist reverently. Your blood flows sluggishly through your veins.

padmund, of course he thinks you're not a loser, and he heard you got a good one over on veth (nice), and if you want to be a wizard who just invents things that is perfect. yes, the card game is amazing and of course he will sign.

and he doesn't know barbarian rage, hasn't experienced it, but he knows a couple barbarians and surely it can't be that hard. sky's so bright and so eager to help work this out. there's a joy in magic for her because it's something she loves and only wants to use for good

For the two of them, it is the moment Lavellan chooses, of her own will, to stand beside Solas and go with him. But to the people watching from the outside, it might become a very different story.

Rook’s party and Morrigan, who were there, would know that she chose it herself. But for ordinary people, or for those who hear the story generations later, all that remains is the fact that the Inquisitor who led the South, the Herald of Andraste, disappeared into the Fade with the Dread Wolf.

And from there, I think the story would split in two very different directions.

One version would be: “The Herald of Andraste was taken into the Fade by the Dread Wolf.”

The other would be: “The Herald of Andraste guided the Dread Wolf into the Fade.”

In the first version, Lavellan would be remembered almost like a saint or a bride stolen away by a god. In the second, she would become someone who calmed a god, guided him, and crossed the boundary of the world with him. Almost a figure from myth.

But in reality, she was not stolen by a god. She was not deceived, nor was she offered up as a sacrifice. She chose Solas of her own will.

That is the part I find so fascinating.

In mythology, women who become the wives of gods are often abducted or deceived. But maybe, somewhere among those stories, there were women who truly chose to stand beside a god of their own will.

The thing is, stories passed down through history do not always preserve that kind of will.

People want stories they can understand.

The human world might want to say she was taken.

The Chantry might want to say she was martyred.

The elves might say she forgave Fen’Harel, or that she was chosen by him.

Those who hate Solas might say she betrayed them.

Those who see Solas as a god might say she became the Wolf’s bride.

Those who come to revere Lavellan might say she was the one who calmed the Wolf.

“The woman who was stolen away.”

“The woman chosen by a god.”

“The saint who guided the Dread Wolf.”

“The leader who betrayed the world.”

“The Wolf’s bride.”

In that way, a deeply personal choice might slowly become something else entirely.

For Lavellan, perhaps it was simply this:

“I want to be with you.”

Solas has always rejected being seen as a “god.” And yet, in the very end, he might turn even her choice into part of a myth.

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