“You have suffered enough, and warred with yourself, it’s time that you, won”

headcanon that every once in a while, the room at furthest end of the courtyard briefly glows, casting lazy blue light on the old stone walls.  and then it’s gone.  meanwhile an agent of fen’harel thousands of miles away, goes to deliver a report. 

there’s no one here? he didn’t mention he was leaving…odd

the agent turns to leave, and room flashes blue.

Ah, my apologies. Did you have something for me?

Just this ser. There’s still no word on Lavellan. Would you like us to-?

No. That won’t be necessary. Thank you

There is something off about his smile, the agent thinks. He wears it more often these days. It is not a large thing. Just a small upturn at the corners of his lips. Peaceful, almost.  It will last for a few days

And then he will disappear again. Only for a few hours. Never more. 

It continues for months. 

She’s always there. If ever they agree to meet. She waits, offering words of comfort. Stealing moments of peace between wars. Sometimes they argue, but she’s always there.

Until the day, She isn’t

and the Dread Wolf does not smile again. 

Because I felt like being sad for a half hour.

“What do you mean she’s asleep? She was asleep four hours ago. You can’t let her sleep all day and night!”

“If you think you can do any better, get yourself back up here and take over.”

The crystal glowed a frosty blue as Dorian’s whisper filtered through, a little tinny. “Now, now, that wasn’t what I meant.”

“Magister, the healers say there’s nothing else to be done.” He’s seen men drink themselves to death with a stump propped on a tavern table. And the sickly sweet smell of a wound gone bad after amputation is someting he’ll never forget. It won’t happen to her, thanks to the magic the elf used, but he can’t stop thinking about it just the same. Not that she’s let him see under the bandages the healers tell him aren’t even necessary.

“Your southern healers are little more than maniacs reading tea leaves and feeding everyone tinctures of fennec piss and elfroot.”

Despite himself, he laughed. The motion of it jostled Evelyn against his chest and he froze a moment, waiting to see if she’d stir. But of course she didn’t. It was a strong potion that the Tranquil brewed, and she’d downed enough to put a druffalo under.

Dorian’s distant voice went tight with worry. “Is there anything, anything at all I can do?”

Thom brushed hair back from her forehead and settled her closer in the crook of his arm. In the last four years he’d gotten used to the way the Inquisitor slept. Fitful, restless. Evelyn frowned and sighed her way through dreams, she wriggled around looking for the most comfortable spot on his shoulder. In hot weather she pulled a fold of the sheet up between them so her cheek wouldn’t stick to his bare skin with sweat. This unnaturally deep, quiet sleep felt wrong.

“Like what? You said there’s no spell for growing it back.” A little bit of himself was angry that there wasn’t.  People made it sound like blood magic could conjure up damned near anything. “You’re sure, though? Nothing?”

There wasn’t even a pause. “You know that I would have tried. If I thought there was the slightest chance it would work I’d bleed your hairy arse dry, lummox. As soon as I am back in Minrathous I’ll start looking in earnest.”

“Good enough.”

A long silence then, the crystal on its fine chain went nearly dark. Thom traced the blue veins in the back of her right hand carefully. She’d broken her fingernails again. Three were smooth, curved and perfect. But the middle and thumb were jagged, red underneath and probably sore.

Thom stretched his free arm out for the tin of salve by the bed. It was dusty - didn’t look like it had been touched since the morning he left, back in the spring. He prised the lid off with a thumb and his teeth, not willing to let go of the gentle rise and fall of her ribs under his other palm.  

“When she’s awake, give her my love, will you?”

“Of course.”

Her thumb twitched as he swiped a little of the healing ointment along the cracked nail but she gave no other sign she’d felt it.  " I will. Once she’s good and awake.“

Dorian’s sigh came along with a brighter glow from the crystal on the bedside table by Thom’s head. It lit up the dark circles under Evelyn’s eyes that no amount of makeup could cover. Not that she’d so much as glanced in a mirror in two weeks.

"She’s still…still forgetting, then?”

“Most mornings, yeah.” Being shoved away wasn’t so bad. But the horror on her face as she went to rub her eyes or brush away her unruly hair with a hand that wasn’t there anymore? Always the same: Evelyn pushed him away and turned her back, bent double over what the elf hadn’t taken of her arm. She huddled in the wrinkled blankets, always apologizing,

It was the ‘Sorry, I’m sorry!’ that was a knife in the gut.

He never could get her to explain what she thought she needed to be sorry for.

“Kaffas.” Dorian swore, and there was a bunch of muttering Thom couldn’t follow. “I have to stop talking now, but tell her-” The mage sighed. “Tell her I love her and to talk to me when she can.”

Thom swallowed around a tight lump in his throat. “She’s always spilled her guts to you, 'vint. If she talks to anybody it’ll be you.”

But the crystal was dull and colorless again. Evelyn’s steady breaths tickled the hair on his chest as Thom pulled her unresistant hand up and tucked it under his chin to wait with her for morning.

More Solas heartache

I have an idea rolling around in my head that I’m still fleshing out but…its pestering me and keeping me awake.

Solas tells Lavellan he needs time to think about a relationship with her, “there are…considerations,” he says. And after the balcony kiss he tells her that not continuing this would be kinder in the long run but that “losing you would…” And insert dramatic kiss. In Crestwood he quickly back peddles after having a personal revelation and tells her how in another world it could be different but that he simply can’t keep doing this!

Now, we all know why he can’t. He has a personal mission, responsibilities to others, etc.

But…what if there is an additional reason? In the dlc we learn that only he can bear the mark without dying unless it is removed.

What if his considerations, his reservations, his hindrances, and worry about losing her stems partly from the fact that he knows he is falling in love with a dying woman, though she does not yet realize it. It would be kinder in the long run for them both if they did not pursue this doomed relationship. But losing her is such an unbearable thought that he must hold her while he can!

To make matters worse, he can only save her by becoming stronger, which he accomplishes by absorbing the spirit of Mythal. Now stronger, he has removed the anchor. And now, with his resolution to his plan to fix his mistakes (a decision she encourages him to make post Temple of Mythal), she might die anyway as a result of his actions.

Is it no wonder he is so pained and distraught upon revealing the truth to her? He loves her and yet his anchor was the reason she was dying, and now that he has removed it, he is the reason she will live…only to put her in danger of dying again. The amount of hurt and tragedy just piles up with this ship.

Ugh. That’s an incredibly rough draft but it’s tearing me up and if I don’t get it out I won’t sleep! Damned elf!

Imagine Solas finding his way into Lavellan’s dreams post-Trespasser. He sees her dreaming of finding him, saving him. Stopping him from destroying anything. She dreams of helping him to save the Elvhen people, while saving everyone else. She dreams of Solas coming back to her side for good.

Lavellan sees him in her dreams, skirting at the edges of her consciousness.

But one night things are different, Lavellan sees a different dream than one she’s ever had before. She sees herself holding a baby with small, pointed ears and beautiful blue eyes. She sees Solas reaching out to take the infant in his arms, tears streaming down his face while he holds his daughter to his chest as if he’s never going to let her go.

And then Lavellan realises she’s seeing Solas’ dreams and not her own.

/pulls out tablet pen/

thereluctantinquisitor:

stop this at once