Pride, Wolf and Rebellion

Harillen

The Great Game was soon to be ancient history and Fen'Asha was glad to find herself in the familiar confines of the carriage. She had slept well the night before and was absently flipping through the papers of the not-so-brief survey Driyaden had left with her.

Solas chatted with Cole, while Iron Bull and Varric seemed locked in a conversation of their own.

Fen'Asha put her mind to the survey and produced Professor Tavernier's pamphlet. She curiously turned the pages of A Treaty on the Pagan and Heretical Customs of the Elven and was surprised by its frankness. The professor knew the subject well and his research seemed methodical enough. Fen'Asha reached a chapter on the "Elven Pantheon" and read carefully.

The Dalish use "harellan" to mean "traitor to one's kin," but the word does not appear in any elven text before the Towers Age. The ancient root-word is related to "Harillen," or opposition, and "hellathen," or noble struggle. The Dalish call Fen'Harel a god of deception, but I posit a far more accurate translation would be "god of rebellion."

What he rebelled against is a story lost to time. In Dalish legends, Fen'Harel seals away the other deities out of love of trickery. If we understood more ancient elven, we might find earlier versions of the Dread Wolf's story give him a more nuanced motivation beyond spite.

God of rebellion. She turned the page, eager for more information pertaining to Fen'Harel. There was nothing. She turned back, reading the same two paragraphs again and again as though new information would present itself. It didn't happen, but her pulse quickened nevertheless.

Fen'Asha wondered about the nature of Fen'Harel once more and it once again seemed a question without answer. But still, something pulled her. Something warmed her.

She closed her eyes and suddenly the inside of the carriage became hot, humid, moist. It was silent, like all conversations had stopped. She couldn't even hear the wheels of the carriage as they lurched into the holes and crevices of the dirt pathway.

God of rebellion.

Her heart beat faster still and she bit her finger, trying to halt the feelings of heat overtaking her. She looked around, seeing lips moving but hearing no sound. Varric was talking to Iron Bull. Solas was talking to Cole. Solas was watching her.

She met his eyes and looked down, flushed.

Hot turned to cool as a chill ran up her spine, she clutched the pamphlet and wondered about Professor Tavernier's research. He was really on to something, wasn't he? So knowledgeable.

Solas was still watching her when the coolness flooded her whole body. Her skin prickled and she dropped the pamphlet. It didn't make a sound.

Solas was looking at her and a grin threatened his face.

Cool turned back to hot and small flames licked her skin. She pursed her lips, clutching the bottom of her seat.

Solas was grinning now, but his lips were still moving in his conversation with Cole. She couldn't hear any words, couldn't make anything out.

A force of energy rippled through her core, filling her middle with heat. She gripped her seat harder, closed her legs.

"Inquisitor."

She felt beads of sweat trickle over the curve of her forehead.

"Inquisitor."

Something was breaking through. Someone was.

It was Varric. "Inquisitor, are you feeling alright? Do you have to...relieve yourself?"

She moaned something, tried to produce a word. She was breathless.