Dragon Age Inquisition: The Legacy of Dorian Pavus

27: Solas

Dorian

All his talk about ancient elves and gods had got him worked up about ancient history and the Imperium's role in the events which started the Blights. How much of it was true? How much had been orchestrated to happen as it had? How much had been accident?

Certainly this Dread Wolf hadn't wanted his own people to suffer, had he? That part must have been a result of a plan backfiring or a spell gone wrong, or at least he assumed so. But it bothered him that he could find nothing regarding the true nature of Fen'Harel.

It seemed reasonable to assume that he had been an elf or elvhen as the Dalish referred to themselves, yet even they had nothing good to say about this supposed god. A trickster certainly, but if his plan had been to prevent the downfall of his people, how determined would he be to want to reverse those events? Assuming he still lived, where was he? Why did no one care to mention his name?

In his frustration, he had gone through every area of Skyhold speaking with every elf he encountered, both city and Dalish. Unfortunately, there were only two Dalish in the entire compound and had little to say on the matter. What they had said was neither positive nor encouraging.

Fen'Harel was a being to be feared and avoided. He was a trickster, a god who believed in his own power and importance. Arrogant to the point of being dangerous, for if he had faults, he did not see them or otherwise acknowledge their existence.

The city elves had been no help at all naturally, so he retreated back to the library to think. So lost in his musings was he, that when the lanterns lit up along the walls he was surprised to realize how late it was. It was then followed by a sharp pang of anxiety when he realized he hadn't seen Nathaniel in over a day.

Alarmed, he stood abruptly and headed for the great hall where he could hear the sounds of dinner being served. He took the stairs down the rotunda which led him through Solas' favourite spot in the keep. The elven mage was waiting for him, blocking the way to the hall with his back pressed casually into the wall.

Dorian resisted the urge to scowl at him. Solas had made no effort to be friendly with him, nor had he made any attempt to disguise how much he disliked the mage from Tevinter. Refusing to let himself be intimidated, he slowed his pace, dropping his practised, aloof face over his features. Despite Solas' arrogance, Dorian knew with certainty the man had no clue he was even putting on an act.

"Solas." He said, his voice warm and soothing. "Waiting to escort me to dinner?"

Dorian smiled inwardly as Solas' nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought of entering a public place on the arm of a man. He wondered idly if he showed Nathaniel the same visage, but given the man's nature, he thought it unlikely.

"Of course not." Solas snapped. "I'm sorry. That was more harsh than I intended. I have already eaten, but as it seems you have not, I won't keep you long."

"You want to speak to me then?" Dorian was so surprised he couldn't think of a single witty remark.

"I do." He said, giving Dorian the warmest smile he'd ever seen. "Perhaps we could speak somewhere more private? I feel the need for some fresh air."

Dorian looked around the empty room wondering how much more privacy Solas wanted. It put him on edge, given their mutual dislike, yet he could find no reason to refuse him.

"Very well." He said. "Lead the way."

Once outside, the sounds and smells of Skyhold castle faded from his awareness as he followed Solas out along the battlements. The sky was black, lit only by the abundance of stars punctuating the night sky and glittering like diamonds. The wind was calm for once and Dorian whispered a word of thanks having no love for the cold weather Ferelden was famous for.