Love, Lies and Lyrium: Speculations on Varric's Role in Dragon Age 4

VARRIC: There's always someone bent on breaking the world...

You know that third Dragon Age 4 trailer that I took forever to analyze, and that I just posted about last week?

Well, going through and updating it over the past few weeks made me do some thinking. And a lot of that thinking was about our storyteller dwarf Master Tethras, whose character analysis I just posted a few weeks back before the latest big teaser trailer run-through.

For me, as for many, one of the most exciting things about that new teaser trailer for Dragon Age 4 was the immediate revelation that it was narrated by none other than Varric Tethras himself—which is a pretty good indication that Thedas's bestselling novelist is going to be returning for our next adventure. Especially as he even specifies, "I've got your back" as the trailer winds down.

As I mentioned, I feel like this is a clear indication that Varric will most likely serve as an advisor to our next hero in Dragon Age 4—he may even be our main point of contact, although I believe Dorian and hopefully Maevaris will also be present. As I also mentioned, I don't think Varric's going to be a Companion, although he may very well have a special guest "tag-along" quest, as Cullen did in Dragon Age Inquisition.

But I think there are some other exciting big-picture conclusions to be drawn from Varric's presence, as well.

Varric's Nemesis

Varric's narration in that latest trailer isn't just important because it lets us know that Varric will be back—there's another really deep, almost mythic aspect I want to bring up here, which is that, for Varric, more than for any other character in Dragon Age, red lyrium is his nemesis.

Varric was there when that very first red lyrium idol was found in the remains of the ancient thaig in the Deep Roads in Dragon Age II -- the lyrium idol that seemed to start red lyrium's deadly growth across Thedas. That red lyrium idol first destroyed his brother Bartram and then maddened and destroyed Meredith. This in turn led to widescale death and carnage across Kirkwall, and which endangered Thedas beyond.

Then Corypheus's rise to power in Dragon Age Inquisition took the effects even further, and through a corrupt network, evil army, and demented mining strategy, red lyrium began to show up in almost all corners of Southern Thedas as the Inquisition waged its battles. Varric then discovered the devastating truth that Bianca had unknowingly facilitated a secret red lyrium mining operation in order to maintain access to her study of the red lyrium. Even as Varric worked do destroy as much red lyrium as possible across Thedas, Bianca's brilliant scientific mind had discovered the truth -- that the substance is what happens when regular lyrium becomes infected with the Blight—and that red lyrium is, in ways she can't quite understand, actually alive.

While Bianca hadn't meant to doom the world or contribute to the rise of Corypants, it's still undeniable that she knew she was doing some pretty shady stuff, and that the red lyrium was incredibly dangerous.

Varric knew it too. Which was why he sighed his usual catchphrase, which also held a world of hurt behind it: "Well, shit."

The Infection Spreads

Because red lyrium is somehow alive, this seems to make it easy to use to "infect" a landscape, and in Dragon Age Inquisition, Corypheus made sure it was sown across Thedas. The deposits grew and multiplied quickly, and were easy to mine and transport, since red lyrium (unlike regular lyrium) can be mined by anyone, not just dwarves. Red lyrium was also shown to be insidious and easy to use to corrupt and infect people, since it didn't even require ingestion, and people could be infected simply through close proximity (which is what appeared to happen to our imprisoned companions in the alternate future of "In Hushed Whispers.")

Varric never forgot his brother Bartram's poisoning and destruction from red lyrium (either mentally or physically, depending on our choices in Dragon Age II), and that chapter of his life

In Knight Errant, upon finishing his trip to Starkhaven (attending Sebastian's birthday celebration in order to help Vaea get Marius and Tessa out of prison), Varric discovers upon departure that red lyrium may have now spread to Tevinter.

Tevinter Nights, meanwhile, shows that Varric has continued to work actively for the Inquisition despite his day job as Viscount. He's the one who oversees the investigation on Genitivi and friends' research into the nature of the ancient elven pantheon, according to "Genitivi Dies in the End," and who receives the report (a nice detail to look back on as Varric is obviously very much aware of "The Dread Wolf" and his identity as of the new Dragon Age 4 trailer). It's also Varric who calls in a favor to get the Carta Assassin to attend the meeting with Charter in "The Dread Wolf Take You." The Assassin's tale is also directly tied to the danger of red lyrium, and he starts by referencing Bartrand and Meredith, then talks obliquely about Bianca's research and revelations, and that Varric was responsible for the Carta-approved quarantine to try to keep it contained.

Then he gets specific: A Dalish elf contacted them who wanted the red lyrium idol from the heart of Meredith's fossilized red lyrium form (for Solas), and here's where Varric and Solas's stories and agendas converge:

...But the elf keeps at it. He’s learned it from a dream. Some old legend of his people says the idol is in her body, and if he gets it out, he can free his gods or something like that...

...We’re about to kill him, not because we’re cruel, you understand, but anybody who is that determined to dig around in a statue made of lyrium needs to be put down before they get a bunch of people hurt, and then the elf pulls out a potion and says it will soften the raw lyrium and weaken its magic for a bit, so we can get to the idol inside safely. We pour a little of that potion on some lyrium for a laugh, and damned if it doesn’t work just like he says.

In hindsight, what's really interesting about this beyond the fact that Solas and Varric's stories have just converged again in the unlikeliest of ways, is that Solas has very little dialogue about red lyrium in Dragon Age Inquisition, period. Beyond expressing a healthy caution for being in its proximity, he says few words about it and expresses no curiosity at all. 

However. He does have the following extremely telling conversation with Cassandra about Corypants:

Cassandra: Solas, what do you think this Corypheus actually is?
Solas: A darkspawn, as he appears.
Cassandra: But what of the orb he wields and the dragon he commands? This is no ordinary darkspawn.
Solas: His true advantage is the red lyrium. It is corrupted by the Blight as he is, thus taps into its power twofold. Whatever he was before, that is what makes him dangerous now.

Uh-oh. 

And this ties directly in with the stories of the Carta Assassin and all of the others at Charter's table in Tevinter Nights as they converge to provide us with the revelation that Solas desperately needed the red lyrium idol, and that he's going to use it in his ritual or enchantment to tear down the Veil and restore the ancient empire of his people. The idol—and the red lyrium—are going to provide him with that "true advantage" and of course, just as he said, make him more dangerous than ever.

The fact that Solas ends the story as resolute and sorrowful as ever to move forward with his plans doesn't bode well for Thedas in Dragon Age 4... or Varric in his determination to contain the threat of red lyrium once and for all.

A Sorrowful Dwarf in a Lyrium-Blighted World

It's exciting and surprising that Solas's biggest strategic antagonist in Dragon Age 4 may just be our own Master Tethras, once again waging a war against a toxic red crystal that harkens all the way back to the days of Mythal and the Evanuris and Solas, back to dwarves and titans, back to stolen titan's-blood and the beginnings of the Blight... (No wonder the Blighted red lyrium is confirmed by Bianca to be alive... isn't lyrium already alive, if we think about it? The titans lived, even if they may have been monolithic, biologically exotic creatures of mountain and stone... they were alive, and it certainly looks like we may be in for a reckoning in Dragon Age 4.)

And it all makes perfect sense, if so. As we get those additional glimpses of the next chapter in Dragon Age, it's obvious that red lyrium is back again, and worse than ever, in Dragon Age 4. For this reason, Varric's presence in the trailer is not only exciting, it's also potentially tragic. 

As of the end of "Trespasser," Varric was uncomfortably ensconced as the lovably irascible Viscount of Kirkwall, grudgingly ruling the city where he was born—the city he loved, even when he didn't want to. He felt a responsibility to the city and its people, and demonstrated in his conversations with the Inquisitor that, like it or not, he was a pretty damn good ruler, and he was keeping his city safe. He seemed pretty set where he was—even inviting the Inquisitor to come out and live there if they have a yearning to (an offer that warmed my heart, because Varric can't help turning friends into family everywhere he goes). He doesn't seem like someone who's going to go on extended adventuring again anytime soon.

But now I think everything's changed. 

Thanks to the teasers and trailers, the red lyrium we glimpse in Dragon Age 4 doesn't just look like a creepy malignancy to be wiped out here and there—it looks like a plague, a crimson cancer that's overrunning Thedas, destroying fields, forests, and even perhaps cities.

Which means that for Varric, Dragon Age 4 is going to be more personal than ever. I suspect he'll be more invested and passionate than we've seen him so far, for that reason. No more attempts to be neutral. No more reluctance to choose a side, to be the storyteller and not the hero. As I've mentioned before, this is something that writer Mary Kirby has always navigated skillfully when it comes to Varric, balancing that sense of charm and intimacy, that Varric is our friend, with that equal truth that he's just as cool and calculating as Leliana and Bull in some ways, and far more similar to them in his abilities to compartmentalize than people may be aware of.

It's personal. And if it's personal for Varric, that means he has more to lose than ever. But those moments also can come with a curious sense of freedom, which is why I want to bring up my other theory for the next game: when it comes to love, I think Varric may finally have let go of the past.

Closing a Door on the Past...

The revelation that Bianca was aware of the red lyrium operation in Dragon Age Inquisition, and keeping vital information about that fact from Varric, ends her visit to Skyhold with a tense confrontation between the two in which Bianca both apologizes and justifies her actions, and in which Varric seems both deeply disappointed and tired. The Inquisitor can step in, choose a side, or ask them both to step back. 

Bianca plays it cool as always, although we can see how much Varric still means to her. She threatens the Inquisitor if Varric comes to harm, and even during the mission to the Deep Roads, she invites Varric to stop by for another tryst—another few stolen moments for the lovers among dozens over the years.

Still, he's unhappy as she departs, and from the conversation that ensues with the Inquisitor, it's apparent that this is a big moment for Varric, and I think it's about more than just choosing a side or seeing the big picture here.

I think it's also about his heart. 

Right here is when I think Varric starts to let go of Bianca permanently. At long last.

Hearts and High Stakes

My bet is that Varric's discovery of Bianca's role in Dragon Age Inquisition finally caused him to break free from her, and that—at last—all those people who wanted their chance at romancing the guy with the best chest hair in Thedas may finally get their chance.

This is why I don't just think he'll be an advisor in the next game, following the tried and true "Cullen" Dragon Age path from soldier to commander—I also think, as with Cullen, that finally Varric may in fact... wait for it... be available.

After all, this is a formula that's worked for BioWare in the games in the past—popular game characters evolve from romanced companions to advisors or compatriots, or vice versa, as we've seen in the case of Leliana, Cassandra, and Cullen, and that we'll witness again next, I suspect, with Dorian (who I'm betting will be an unromanceable advisor), and Varric. If I'm right, Varric won't just be laying his traps and pulling on those spiderwebs, he'll also—I swear to Andruil—be available for those patient Varric thirsters wanting to finally swipe right.

It makes narrative sense to me, as well. The next game is going to hold the highest stakes for Varric in many ways since it all began back in Kirkwall. And yet we'll be dealing with a new protagonist and a new cast of Companion followers, which might daunt some players missing the camaraderie of their old friends at Skyhold. So if it does happen as I expect, Varric will be one of those returning characters who would provide an anchor, a sense of continuity and family for returning players, and his romance would further add a natural yet necessary element of emotion and high stakes very quickly into the equation, as well.

This scenario also worries me as someone who adores Varric and doesn't want anything to happen to him. Let's face it, if Varric were Ahab, then red lyrium would be his white whale. It's literally touched, altered or destroyed almost everything he loved. Will he defeat it? Or will it sink him at last? If it does, I can almost guarantee you that he'd simply die with a wry smile and an appropriately literary and witty observation as his last words. 

The sad part is, Varric will have had years in which to compose those words, because I think some part of him always knew that the fight wasn't over, and that because he was there for the discovery of red lyrium in the beginning, he would have an additional part to play in the end, as well.

That's why Dragon Age 4 may very well hold the highest danger for Thedas's most popular novelist yet—and the biggest threat not just to his life, but to his heart.

Will Varric make it through? Time will tell.

Reader Questions: Kill or Redeem (Sympathy for the Dread Wolf)

I wrote recently about some of the questions I get from readers and followers. So I've started a series of posts I'll note as "Reader Questions." They'll be a little hastier, a little more "off-the-cuff," but I hope they'll still prove helpful or mildly amusing.

Onward!

Another popular query I get—perhaps the biggest one—is about my sympathetic stance on Solas. 

I really appreciate these questions, and care about being as fair as I can be in my analyses here.

And yeah, let's face it, a lot of people really, really hate Solas. Which I completely get. Who can blame them? His honesty with us about his own actions and plans in "Trespasser" is pretty damning. Even if he's not sure what tearing down the Veil will do, it's apparent he expects it to sow chaos across Thedas, and that many lives (even those of people he loves) may be lost.

And yet... I still chose "Redeem."

So let's address this.

What the Road to Hell is Paved With...

Am I biased? Oh, hell, yes. I'm absolutely a Solas apologist, however much I try for a dispassionate view. I attempt to remain impartial, but it's no secret after my zillions and zillions of words here that I love the guy (and many other wonderful companions). I've written all sorts of posts here where I attempt to try to understand and analyze what drives Solas, and I've definitely been open about how much I both loved his romance and still hope to redeem him in Dragon Age 4. 

First off, I'm a sucker for tragedy, and the sheer irony and sadness of Solas's situation is fascinating to me. Like all the best anti-heroes (or villains), he began his path with the very best of intentions. He saw evil being done and did what he could—freeing the slaves, leading rebellions, ending wars, punishing murderers. He wanted to save his people, and yet in the end, despite the very best of his intentions, he doomed them instead—and in every literal way you can imagine. He took away their immortality. He trapped them in a world without magic (or at least, comparable to their previous lives). He crashed their beautiful suspended cities, killing thousands as the Veil removed their abilities to float and fly. He trapped their spirit-friends beyond an almost impenetrable barrier, and he (worst of all) put them on a path that directly led to their exile and enslavement. 

It's all terrible and sad, especially when what he was attempting to do was (to him) simple and absolute punishment where it would hurt the perpetrators most.

But the fact that Solas's name means 'Pride' is no accident. Time and again, he's shown that he's often blinded by his own intellect. Here, for instance, nothing but the sundering of the world itself would suffice for his vengeance. And for that act, his people paid.

And they're still paying, even thousands of years later.

So there we are. And speaking dramatically, as a writer? This is pure catnip for someone like me, and is incredibly fun and emotional from a story standpoint.

However, I also truly want this blog to be for everyone, so I do try to ensure that I'm including analyses and insights that are useful no matter what you chose at the end of "Trespasser." 

Love Doesn't Equal Approval

This is a good place for me to note that, even if you're one of those who enthusiastically hates Solas, our points of view are not as far apart as you might think. I really do see and understand this, and it's made for some exciting debates for me across the world of Dragon Age!

For one thing, as a writer, I love Solas as a character just as I also love many other deeply shaded characters who are not always good people, or who have done things that are despicable or downright villainous. I love them for the writing art and craft involved in their creation (damn your ability to write poetic tragedy, Weekes!), for the nuance and complexity that went into them, and I appreciate them for their believability and dramatic resonance.

So I can absolutely love Solas, and yet still see him pretty clearly. Just as I also love characters like Anders, Lestat, Stringer Bell, Loghain, Hannibal Lecter, Gollum, Mrs. Coulter, Kylo Ren, or Boyd Crowder. 

Loving a character doesn't mean I agree with what they do. It doesn't mean I support their agenda or actions. It just means I enjoy the character as the fully fleshed and believable, imperfect person the writers (and actors) have convincingly brought to life. Many of those I list here are antiheroes as well as villains, but they are presented in ways that allow us to see their humanity and frailty, their self-doubt, and even their capacity for love. That's exciting, and so much more fun than a one-note bad guy (like we all thought Corypants was, while Solas, just like Anders, was right next to us all along).

Sympathy for the Devil

I'd also argue that, where Solas is concerned, great care and deliberation was taken by Patrick Weekes, as well as by the rest of the artists and technicians on the Dragon Age team, to make him as three-dimensional as possible, to show us all of his potential complexity, tenderness, weakness, genuine empathy, and self-doubt. (That is, if we romance him or garner high friendship with him—otherwise, we'll just see supercilious cold Solas, who stays remote and hidden, and whose despair and disdain for Thedas only grows when faced with a corrupt or antagonistic Inquisitor.)

But if we romance him? Holy schnikes, the devastation, the feelings, the tears, the blanketforts! All thanks to—it turns out—a suggestion from the divine David Gaider to Weekes. (My favorite part is that Gaider admits later that "The sheer wickedness of it appealed." Of course it did.)

I mean, let's face it, I was so upset when Solas dumped me (um, I mean, my Inquisitor—DAMMIT) that I called my best friend. And, as you may have seen from my humiliating admission here... there may have been tears.

So, yeah, I chose "Redeem." I always have. I just can't go with "Kill." 

Actions Vs. Plans

As you know... I think Solas is traumatized at the time of Dragon Age: Inquisition, and that he's still a bit mad. Still, he seems to like planning to tear down the Veil a lot more than he actually likes taking action to do so. 

Even two years later, he still hasn't done it. Even when he's all-powerful and eye-blinking people into stone (after a considerate warning, of course). 

I'll go into this further when I explore "Trespasser" here, but the facts are pretty incontrovertible. In terms of his most immediate recent actions, Solas:

• Manipulated the Orb to Corypants (hoping to unlock it and take out Cory in the meantime)—this is NOT OKAY, and Flemeth/Mythal seems to have distanced herself as a direct result
• When the act led to worldwide apocalypse, he helped the Inquisition (even risking almost certain suicide in Haven). Keep in mind—if he's truly evil, he could have joined Corypants, who seems to have treated his lieutenants with respect and even empathy (see also Samson and Calpernia) so it was a definite option for Solas to get close to the Orb with much less risk to himself
• He led the Inquisition to Skyhold and gave them a headquarters
• He fell deeply in love with the Inquisitor but would not sleep with her while deceiving her about his identity
• He personally helped to defeat Corypants (even when it directly led to the breakage of the Orb)
• Two years later, he saved the world from a Qunari plot
• He then saved the life of the Inquisitor, even if it meant also saving his greatest rival. To whom he also told all of his plans for the sake of honesty and openness.

I guess my point is, I think Solas just isn't that good at being bad. His baseline is to be honorable and honest, even when it doesn't profit him and in fact may severely hamper his goals. 

Ravens from the Blanketfort

A sympathetic Solas may be painful for players, but in the best way. it's also smart, engaging, and a subtle way to play for our hearts over our brains.

Because, of course, ultimately, I think the writers wanted us to like Solas. There's good reason for this both dramatically and technically. It's more emotional, more painful, more surprising. It packs a bigger whammy and has more impact, when we realize the Dread Wolf was next to us all along. The impact of that realization, first of all—walking with a god. And that we cared about him, and made him care, too. And to realize we maybe even loved him.

So, for me... between "Kill" or "Redeem," I'm gonna go "Redeem" every time. 

Just know that, for those of you readers who chose "Kill," I'm still with you, I'll still blog about your options as best I can (despite my admitted bias). We'll see what happens at the end of the story. 

Want to make a bet? Whoever was wrong has to buy the pride-cookies!

Works for me.

Meanwhile, see you next time... and thanks for the debate! Please feel free to continue to tweet, DM, or comment your questions and thoughts here... I love hearing from you, and (love Solas or hate him) I appreciate your reading my Thedosian rambles more than I can express.

Skyhold: The Gift of a Castle

"There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build, grow...
"Skyhold."

NOTE: As always? SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS on everything in the game, its story, conclusion, revelations, and identities. Seriously. SO many spoilers. You can't even imagine. Read at your own risk.

There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a
place where the Inquisition can build, grow... Skyhold.
(Thank goodness we just happened to stumble upon it!)

The sequence in Dragon Age: Inquisition that takes place from "In Your Heart Shall Burn" through "The Dawn Will Come" and then, finally, through the discovery of Skyhold, represents an extraordinary series of unforgettable and powerful moments that propel the game and its storyline into a bold new reality.

And if Dragon Age: Inquisition is an interactive novel at its heart (and I truly think it is) then this is where the novel's first section ends, and the next begins. 

After the word "Skyhold," everything changes, yet again.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. In the meantime, the conversation with Solas in the darkness in the previous scene, after "The Dawn Will Come" and under the ghostly glow of the blue mage torchlight, fades away into a pale, pink and brilliant new dawn in the mountains (a lovely, subtle callback to the hymn of the previous scene), as the strings of Trevor Morris's beautiful score surge up in a theme of epic hope and discovery. The Inquisitor starts this day by literally looking to the sky (as the hymn demanded), and yes, the dawn is here.

And Solas is just getting started. His moving and eloquent voiceover (another high point for voice actor Gareth David-Lloyd), as he urges the Inquisitor forward and onward to lead their people to safety, is one of the most striking and emotional events in the game. It also lives up to the whammy of the previous two sequences in a new yet very big way. And it's important on a story level, given what we discover later, that it is Solas telling us these things, that it is Solas orchestrating events. That it is Solas saying, "Oh, wow, a castle yonder, just empty and waiting! Talk about timing. Good thing I managed to wander over to it in my dreams last night!" 

Cough. The quiet elven mage, indeed.

Solas: By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it, changed you. Scout to the North. Be their guide...

The long trek by our companions. And let's hear it for Mother
Giselle, who's obviously kept up with her cardio.

As Solas speaks, we see our followers walking slowly and thoughtfully through the snow, watching the Inquisitor, yet now serene and trusting to their faith. They are making steady progress, although honestly, I'd be hyperventilating, crawling dejectedly and asking to die—look at the slope of that mountain path. It's just not right.

Cassandra leads the pack, just steps behind the Inquisitor and Solas, then comes Cullen, trudging solidly and thoughtfully off to the side (although if this moment were truly portrayed accurately, there would also be a pretty long line of men and women walking behind Cullen, checking out that view). Then comes Leliana, lovely and calmly regal in her warrior-nun armor. Not far behind Leliana, next, is Mother Giselle, whose previous stint in the Hinterlands obviously included some cardio, because she's doing a bang-up job of hiking in the mountains despite wearing the equivalent of a confining cylindrical tent from head to toe.

I wish we could've seen Bull here, carrying a tired villager on each shoulder (or perhaps Sera!), or Dorian, distastefully picking his way through the snowdrifts and lamenting their effects on his outfit. But our focus is on our advisers and the survivors, as we then glimpse the rest of the villagers, the hundreds who survived Haven, as far as we can see... and all is quiet, orderly, and bright. The people walk calmly, supporting one another and shepherding their pack animals along. Somehow, everyone can feel that things are going our way once more.

As the music soars, we see the image of a hawk flying high
above the mountains. Revelation is near. And hopefully,
so is salvation.

Then at Solas's urging, the Inquisitor is running tirelessly forward, watching and analyzing the terrain and the majestic peaks around them. We're making progress, and Solas's stirring voice urges us irrepressibly forward. Then the score changes again, as a gorgeous solo female voice lifts above the music as a delicate harbinger of hope, as a single hawk flies high in the misty early sunlight. Then a warm, low surge of strings (very Coplandesque) signals the next change, as the people of the Inquisition walk together across the bare ground (an ancient path through its all-important, hidden mountain pass). We're close. We're almost home. 

Solas: There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build, grow... Skyhold.

As Solas speaks, the confluence of words, voice, triumphant music and soaring imagery all combine to create a moment that is downright cinematic. It's easily one of Trevor Morris's most notable and lovely moments, among many in his beautiful and sweeping score for the game. For me, it's my favorite musical sequence in the entire game, barring the final devastating minutes of "Trespasser."

Meanwhile, I absolutely love the way this sequence ends, with the gorgeous sweeping view of the beautiful waiting castle, then the moment as the Inquisitor leaps forward right past Solas in their eagerness, as he pronounces the single, resonant name of this new home: "Skyhold." Followed by his rather pleased, secretly satisfied expression as he watches them.

What do my elven eyes see? Is that Mount Doom, far ahead?

And that expression... it's almost smug. Solas might as well be skywriting I DID THIS.

Just another reason why replaying this game is even more fun than the original playthrough. So many secrets and revelations! It truly is a pretty subtle, amusing moment that you can only truly appreciate on replay. Solas is in full control here. He's not surprised, he's cool, privately amused,  and perhaps charmed at the Inquisitor's eagerness. And I think he's also going, "Well that went well." He may also, if on a romance path with the Inquisitor, be thinking about how everything comes full circle, since he just gave the woman he loves a powerful and ancient stronghold. And not just any castle. His castle.

The place where it all went so terribly wrong. And where he now hopes to try again.

Hidden Memories, Hidden Meanings

That's right—Solas's castle. 

If you've played through DAI at least once before, this scene has layers upon layers. Because Solas isn't just helping the Inquisitor find a conveniently abandoned castle in the mountains. Again, he's leading her his very own ancient stronghold. 

There are numerous reasons to find this both lovely and also oddly tragic.

It's a terrific bit of symmetry. It's also quite wonderful metaphorically, if you believe, as I do, that this is another way in which Solas is seeking potential atonement. Or self-recrimination? Both are possible. 

Since his awakening, we know from The Masked Empire and DAI (and Trespasser) that Solas has been weak, terrified, grieving, and enraged, wandering and homeless for the past year or two since his physical awakening. That's why this moment affects me so much. Solas spent that time alone, homeless, sleeping under the stars or nestled in ruins, on hard stone beds and rejected by his own people. Then what does he give us? His very own ancient fortress, presented like a jewel in the heights, as if he's saying, "Here. Take it. Use it well."

Well, maybe. Hopefully. But I'll get to alternate meanings in a moment.

It's a spectacular contribution to the puzzle that is Solas. Yes, he is seeking to accomplish decidedly bad things in many ways. But he's also one of those people who—even in dueling you to the death—would pause to let you pick up your sword if you dropped it.

That's Solas. And there's a vulnerability to it, one I'm not sure he's even entirely aware of (although he does speak to a romanced or high-favor Inquisitor of his inclination to trust and say too much, in "Trespasser" later). This behavior—giving away the advantage to even the field—it's not Bull, and it's not Leliana. And I say that without judgment. Bull and Leliana are simply more ruthless, more jaded, and more absolutely willing to be more brutal when necessary because that's just part of waging war. For them, a win is a win. 

But, despite all the rumors and myths of his duplicity and tricksy tendencies... despite his confusion and despair at what he created... it is Solas. He will pause, extend the sword, then and only then resuming the fight. There is some kind of intrinsic and unbreakable honor there.

The Dread Wolf's Den

How do we know that Skyhold once belonged to Solas? The game gives us several subtle clues throughout...

In a note to us that can be reviewed from the Codex, the Archivist of Skyhold notes a fragment, an elven legend, perhaps, that was found scratched beneath a pillar:

Var'landivalis him sa'bellanaris san elgar
Melanada him sa'miras fena'taldin (word missing)
Nadasalin telerevas ne suli telesethenera
Tarasyl'an te'las vehn'ir abelath'vir (word missing)

He translates it, brokenly, as:

Our belief transformed into everything. (assertation/problem? uncertain)
All time is transformed into the final/first death (uncertain).
Inevitable/threatened victory and horrible/promised freedom in the untorn veils, (uncertain)
Where the sky is held up/back, where the people give/gain love that is an apology/promise from/to… (missing subject, uncertain)

Even brokenly translated, there are exciting implications here. An apology and a promise? Sounds about right, given the situation.

A Letter from Solas

Shortly afterward, we experience another Codex entry and a rather unusual event—a letter from Solas himself, to the Inquisitor. One imagines that his handwriting is, of course, as exquisite as his frescoes:

Your archivists have asked me how I came to know the name and location of Skyhold. To the latter, I may speak easily: when one walks in the Fade, any fortress that has seen enough battle shines as a beacon for spirits drawn to death and struggle, even after centuries of disuse. 

Side Note: I read this part, and yeah, I was facepalming all over the place, going, Oh, Solas. In the words of the immortal Leslie Knope, Solas, you beautiful, rainbow infused space unicorn... This is one of those rare moments where you're not deflecting or deceiving through omission or implication. You're just lying. Lying lying lying. WHY DO I STILL LOVE YOU.

Please excuse a slight pause here, for hugs, chocolate, an infusion of coffee (oh, all right, it's wine), and Dalish mantras.

Okay, great. I'm back. I can do this. Onward, and back to Solas's note:

As to the former, I myself cannot say for certain. The whispers of old memories carry a thousand such names upon their breath, and it is possible that this name belonged to some other keep in some other land. Still, it seems an auspicious name, for there is one peculiarity of language that your scholars seem to have missed. When the words reached my dreaming mind, Skyhold was not simply a fortress near the sky, nor was it some simplistic allusion to holding up the sky. Skyhold—Tarasyl'an te'las— was "the place where the sky was held back." Given your efforts against the Breach and our battle against a madman who seeks to assault the Black City in the Fade, I can only hope that the Inquisition’s new stronghold lives up to its name.

Again, I love all of this from a dramatic standpoint (and always think Bull would find it both fascinating and amusing as well, as our superlative lifelong spy). Why? Simply because how someone chooses to lie to us can sometimes be just as revealing as the truth they're actively trying to hide.

What does Solas reveal? What does he partially reveal? What does he omit outright?

You shouldn't have. I love it. Thanks, honey!

Well, a lot. He's subtly letting us know that, first off, Skyhold is certainly older than we perhaps assumed at first glance, and it appears to have metamorphosed or evolved over the years, to some extent. He doesn't address its possible ancient elven status (reinforced by other discoveries around the keep, such as the ancient elven arrow on one rooftop) nor what may have shaken its very foundations millennia back (the imprisonment of the Evanuris and formation of the Veil?).

And I'm fascinated by how bothered Solas seems to be by the idea that we may have mistranslated or misconstrued the meaning of "Skyhold." He seems genuinely irritated and worried that we may assume some simplistic human translation for the name. He wants us to know that the name isn't about our fortress being near or metaphorically holding up the sky. He seems intent that we understand that, instead, it was a place that physically held back that sky. That it is a place of magic. Force. Power. Barriers. Delicate manipulations from the Fade.

I can't help but also think that Solas is trying, perhaps, to tell us that Skyhold itself is magic (something Morrigan later basically implies from her research as well, while noting that even the walls of Skyhold are absolutely steeped with protective magic). That it carries special powers that will keep it pure and safe from harm. I even wonder if Solas isn't actively attempting to buffer or support that magic, on the sly. It's definitely possible. Or is there something self-serving about it, and is Solas using his return to this perhaps vital and magical location, to help himself recover and recharge his power? Those frescoes could be more than mere paint and plaster.

Meanwhile, all of this conjecture by Solas about Skyhold is great and helpful and fascinating despite the fact that darling Solas is once again, of course, lie-lie-lying his bald little head off. Skyhold is his place, a place he knows down to its bones. He once stood where we stand, breathing the crisp keen mountain air, tasting the snow on his tongue. While the structure may have changed, he once viewed these very peaks as their lord and master (and it may comfort him that this, at least, has changed little in the millennia in which he lay dreaming and in despair).

I think it's very telling that, as Solas begins to truly awaken to this new world, and all of its horror as well as its hidden beauty; as he begins to tentatively reach once more for companionship and even for love or desire, I think it's vital and elegantly plotted that it all begins with this moment—when he comes home.

There's No Place Like Home

As an elf noble of the ancient days, Skyhold wasn't Solas's first home, certainly, but it appears to have been one of the important ones, and in a vital and hidden way that we can't yet wholly define. Homecomings are popular scenarios in books and films for a reason. They bring out characters' vulnerabilities, strip them down, and show us who they really are—as well as who they were. Where we come from, after all, frequently shapes who we become. 

Home is also an emotional touchstone, a place where we're most defenseless. Where we may experience an emotional cocktail of love, loss, yearning, humor, confusion, anger, regret, and more... all at the same time. It's also, of course, why a simple Thanksgiving dinner can become a minefield. (Come on, we've all been there...)

As we discover Skyhold, Solas's plans are functioning well. But he's now more vulnerable, open, emotional and undefended, than he's been for a thousand years.  

Oops.

More Proof

In the DAI Trespasser DLC, the Archivist in the Sundered Hall of the Shattered Library shares with us the following crucial fragment of memory: "After he held back the sky to imprison the gods, the Dread Wolf disappeared." 

Which is pretty interesting for a number of reasons. It means, for one thing, Skyhold got its name from the very act that doomed the elves—and confirms that it was also the place where Solas created the Veil and caused a titanic cataclysm (as evidenced, as mentioned earlier, by the vestiges of some massive explosion in Skyhold's lower/prison areas). The result was that Solas then found himself sleeping and adrift in the Fade for over a millennium.

It's a pretty big reveal, if you think about it. It makes me wonder even more what Solas is thinking when he sees it again. Is there sadness, or at least ambivalence? Is this why he spent the year following his awakening trudging through Thedas and getting turned away by the Dalish—instead of facing the place where it all went wrong? If the attack on Haven had never happened, would he still have led us there? 

So many questions.

A Little DIY... (About Those Frescoes...)

I think it's interesting, however, to note that when we do find and take over Skyhold, Solas does not make himself too comfortable. His gorgeous little tower room glows with light, but it is not a home. He doesn't even have a bed, instead evidently napping on a lovely and immaculate golden couch. (Do you ever think it's funny that we never actually see Solas, our companion and King of the Fade, actually sleeping?)

Instead, he immediately begins to create his breathtaking and beautiful murals, panel by panel, across the walls of his rotunda in order to commemorate the Inquisitor's story. Each major story point is a subtle new gift from Solas (even to an Inquisitor he dislikes or disapproves of) in a priceless and gorgeous series of frescoes in the style of the ancient elves. It's as if he's putting the bow on the gift of his castle, saying, "This was your story." The room was never truly his—he was readying it for us. I also can't help but wonder if there's magic in that plaster and pigment—one more attempt to protect this place and its people.

Alternatively, there may be a darker meaning there, as well. The frescoes may  in fact very well be Solas's actual obituary or tribute to the Inquisitor, a kind of epitaph—a final tribute to the person (and companions) regrettably sacrificed when and if his plans are accomplished. It would be a believable step for a foe who, if nothing else, seems prepared to bear the guilt and responsibility fully of whatever catastrophes his decision to tear down the Veil will bring. And after all, it would be very like Solas to return to Skyhold upon the upheaval of the world... and to steadfastly stare at those panels each and every day as penance.

My next question is whether he plans to return. Does he see Skyhold's occupation by the Inquisition as a temporary interval until he reclaims it once more? And if so, does that mean he's simply doing a little home improvement—literally prepping his return by decorating the walls of his past and future home with a few snapshots of things he cannot bear to forget when the world's present state no longer exists? 

Let's face it—if it's "steeped in magic" as Morrigan suggested, Skyhold would be a good place from which to—once again—attempt to stage his plans in tearing down the Veil. It survived the attempt once before, after all.

This is an image of Solas totally not being sneaky, subversive,
duplicitous, smug, self-satisfied, or arrogant. Also, I love his
eyebrows. They are so eloquent, like facial parentheses.

"It was Mine, Once."

The final and most definitive evidence that Skyhold was Solas's is spoken to us by Solas himself, in a fascinating dialogue moment from Trespasser that is only witnessed by Inquisitors with low approval from Solas.

If, in discussing the finding of Skyhold, the Inquisitor responds sarcastically (the dialogue choice, "Thanks, I guess?"), Solas will reply simply with, "Enjoy it while you can, Inquisitor. It was mine once."

It's the final confirmation that yes, undeniably, Skyhold once belonged to Solas. And I loved this actual confirmation and all the mental images it conjured for me. Oh, the headcanons possible from this final revelation! Did he sit on a throne? Which room was his, way back when? (The Inquisitor's? Surely not the rotunda?) How long did he live there? What intermediate campaigns or struggles against the Evanuris did he helm from those immaculate peaks in the Frostback Mountains?

His reasons for passing along his own former battlements were undoubtedly complex, along with his feelings. After all, Solas may have disliked or feared our Inquisitor, admired or even loved us. 

And even if he did love us... he left. 

But he gave us a castle first, ensuring that the Inquisition (and the Inquisitor most of all) would have the home that he would seemingly eternally continue to deny himself. A fitting setting for what his pride had wrought.

Everybody Sings! The Importance of "The Dawn Will Come"

Bare your blade and raise it high
Stand your ground, the dawn will come

Mother Giselle understands the motivational power
of a good song.

Every good videogame (or story) has a pivotal moment. If it's especially good, it's one in which you get goosebumps and go, "Oh, my God, what just happened?" A moment in which you wonder how you went from detachment to utter investment... and suddenly those pixellated figures have become as lovely and moving as real people to you.

For me, that moment came in DAI, after the massive story break that occurred with the destruction of Haven and the Inquisitor's slow, painful journey back to her companions.

When Mother Giselle confronts us about life and courage and faith, and tries to encourage our Inquisitor and their tired companions and advisers with a song... right there, even though my character was an unbeliever, that's when I fell hard for DAI on a permanent level. 

Everybody Sings

First off, it hit me personally because, as an occasional singer/songwriter and permanent music theatre nerd, I truly believe that sometimes in this universe, our feelings can indeed become so large, so intense, that the only rational response to those moments is to sing your feelings, right out loud. (I practically sang this line of my blog post! Good times.)

The pivotal scene of "The Dawn Will Come" was envisioned
by Head Writer David Gaider, who was convinced it would
be deleted before the finalization of DAI. I'm so glad it lived!

Secondly, it's just so damn risky! Right in the middle of the game, right after we've experienced terror and loss, suddenly everyone is singing this big gorgeous song... and if you're me, you're gobsmacked and in tears. It was a pivotal moment for me in my journey through Dragon Age, and I'll always love the fantastic David Gaider for envisioning and championing it.

And I'll always love it. I love the complexity of the moment—the vital break so that we can pause, look around, and realize even our advisers are simply tired, scared people who have just lost everything—friends, belongings, their Haven (and their haven).

It's one of the most important scenes in the story, as the Inquisitor awakens after their near-death experience, to the sound of exhausted and bitter arguing among their advisors:

Mother Giselle: Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand, and fall. And now we have seen her return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What we have been called to endure? What we perhaps must come to believe? 

Inquisitor: ["I didn't die and come back."]

Mother Giselle: Of course. And the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw. Or perhaps what they needed to see. The Maker both in the moment and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?

Inquisitor: ["Should we believe Corypheus?"]

Mother Giselle: Scripture says magisters, Tevinter servants of false old gods, entered the Fade to reach the golden city, seat of the Maker. For their crime they were cast out as darkspawn. Their hubris is why we suffer Blight and why the Maker turned from us. 

If such is the claim of this Corypheus, he is a monster beyond imagining. All mankind continues to suffer for that sin. If even a shred of it is true, all the more reason Andraste would choose someone to rise against him.

After a little more conversation, the Inquisitor, sad and tired, and possibly not too sure on the subject of faith here, walks away. As they do, we see our advisers, and Josie looks tired and sad. Cullen and Cassandra, too, look angry and hopeless.

And then something truly amazing, lovely, and yet seriously cynical happens: A song. Out of the blue. "The Dawn Will Come" is a beautiful piece, a soaring reinforcement of faith and belief in the uncertain darkness. 

Minor Side Note: I know that "The Dawn Will Come" has gotten some criticism in the DA fandom community, as some fans have endlessly debated the melodic similarity of its opening line to Pippin's Song (a beautiful moment in The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King as created by Billy Boyd and writer Philippa Boyens), but I feel like that's actually coincidental and deceptive. My long answer: For what it's worth, my take is that the first few bars are similar melodically, but that the songs ultimately go to different places. Pippin's song is also a single refrain with no chorus, while TDWC ultimately evolves to something different and more fully realized. Short answer: I love them both.

The Night is Long, and the Path is Dark

For those who played Dragon Age: Origins, hearing Leliana
sing once more is a genuinely meaningful story moment.

So back to my topic. Everyone's tired and depressed. Then Mother Giselle sings. It's a beautiful song, but it's also vital to note that it's a hymn. It's a religious piece, a song everyone in the Chantry presumably knows. And it's metaphorical, of course—the dawn comes every day, after all, but in our souls, we've all had times when we could not see an actual dawn upon our future horizons. And yet maybe if someone had sung this, we might have felt a little bit better.

Mother Giselle sings:

Shadows fall and hope has fled
Steel your heart, the dawn will come
The night is long and the path is dark
Look to the sky, for one day soon
The dawn will come

As Mother Giselle's voice falls into the silence, Leliana looks up from her sadness, and Josie visibly brightens, sitting up straight and smiling. Cass, too, stops brooding and looks up from her maps. Then Leliana joins in with her high, girlish voice (and it's such a big moment for any of us who played DAO, and who still remember the loveliness of the young Leliana's song beside the campfire). Then Cullen joins in, along with the survivors, soldiers, and onlookers (and thanks to Jonny Rees, Cullen's voice is just as predictably beautiful as his hair).

The Shepherd’s lost and his home is far
Keep to the stars, the dawn will come
The night is long and the path is dark
Look to the sky for one day soon
The dawn will come

By the end of the hymn, the camp's people—those we can see—are singing as one, serene, happy... and kneeling before a visibly astonished Inquisitor. (In my Dalish Inquisitor's case, honestly, she is not just surprised, but horrified, but that's a whole other topic. Let's just say she was yelling, "OH MY GODS STOP KNEELING!")

As the song winds to its close, we see Cole tending quietly to Roderick, who has passed away. I always headcanon that he lived to hear the song, since it would have meant so much to him as a man of faith, and that he died even as it soared around him. Slipping into darkness while listening to a beautiful song, holding Cole's compassionate hand? I can imagine worse deaths.

Bare your blade and raise it high
Stand your ground, the dawn will come
The night is long and the path is dark
Look to the sky for one day soon
The dawn will come

Farewell, Chancellor Roderick. You were an asshole, but
you came through when it counted in the end.

My absolute favorite aspect of the song, aside from Cole's quiet and gentle moment of compassion for the unnoticed passing of the petty little man who saved every life there, is the revelation at the end that Solas is watching all of this take place, and his expression of "What the hell am I witnessing?" is just priceless. 

But, in all seriousness, Solas is seeing the big picture. He recognizes that the Inquisitor—perhaps the elven Inquisitor—is shaping extraordinary moments whether they choose to or not. And he's mystified, intrigued and ultimately even slightly pleased.

Mother Giselle caps the moment emphatically and smartly: "An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause."

The absolutely mystified, slightly amused look on Solas's
face as he watches everyone participate in the impromptu
singalong is worth the price of the entire game.

Beyond the Song

Her final words solidify the fact that Mother Giselle has just done something deliberate and complex, acting with full awareness of what the song would do for the people at camp. I believe that, as the good person she is, she believes what she says, but I also think she's being just as savvy and opportunistic as Leliana or Josie or... Roderick. She is being both genuine and subversive, political and religious.

But I love that. I love the fact that Mother Giselle is doing something pretty blatant and cynical here—but she knows it will work, and that it is necessary and vital in order to get people motivated, hopeful and cheerful again.

A Little Analysis

It's useful to note, by the way, that in this intensely religious and Andrastian moment that may or may not be shared by the Inquisitor, we see very few of our companions.

This makes sense upon reflection, because the moment is really about communion, about Chantry belief, about bringing the Inquisition's primary advisers together. As a religious organization at its heart, any fractures after Haven would be both painful and nonproductive. So Mother Giselle has reminded Leliana, Cullen, Josie, and Cassandra to cast off fear and exhaustion, to look forward, and to rediscover hope.

I would have found it fascinating if we had indeed seen Sera here. I think Sera might actually have joined in with the song. I think Bull, Blackwall and Dorian might have been moved by the warmth and sheer beauty of the moment (wholly aside from its religious connotations), and that, further, Bull would've been buoyed, simply enjoying the moment, even as Blackwall's feelings of guilt would have made him feel worse than ever on the inside. Viv, I feel, would have been privately dismissive and amused, although approving in a political sense.

Meanwhile, the companion I most miss here is Varric, a man of real if hidden faith. What would he have done here? I don't quite think he would have sung along—as a skeptical and intelligent man, I think he wouldn't have wanted to put the Inquisitor in the position. But I wonder if he might have wanted to, secretly on some level.

A Little Magefire in the Night

After the song dies away, Solas walks quietly up to the Inquisitor. "A word," he says. It is not a request, but a command. She follows.

Then Solas sashays over to the solitary torch, and lights it with magefire and a casual, graceful wave of his hand. (By the way, I could watch Solas walk over to that torch a dozen times and not get tired of it. And maybe I already have. Don't judge me.) Anyway, Solas lights the torch, casting a lonely blue glow over the snow around them, then looks to the Inquisitor.

The differences in Solas's comments here, depending upon your Inquisitor's race, are intriguing.

Solas Discussion (Humans/Other Races):

"A wise woman," he says. "Worth heeding. Her kind understand the moments that unify a cause. or fracture it. The Orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you, it is elven. Corypheus used the Orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave. I do not yet know how Cory survived, nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the Orb's origin.

Solas Discussion (Elven Inquisitor):

"The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting. The faith is hard-won, Lethallan, worthy of pride, save one detail. The threat Corypheus wields, the Orb he carried, it is ours. Corypheus used the Orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave. We must find out how he survived. And we must prepare for their reaction, when they learn the orb is one of our people."

When asked about what he knows, Solas again responds differently to Inquisitors whether elven or other races, and each offers intriguing glimpses of the Solas within:

Further Examination (Other Races):

See the guy to the left? I love him, but he is a lying liar who
lies and his pants are constantly ablaze.

"They were foci, used to channel ancient magics. I have seen such things in the Fade. Old memories of older magic. Corypheus may think it Tevinter. His empire's magic was built on the bones of my people. Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it."

Solas's response to a Dalish Inquisitor is highly interesting and suggestive, and again, here is one of the rare occasions on which he is actively lying to us. If, as we eventually learn, there were no actual elven gods, Solas is certainly putting on a good act here. Although, to be fair, it may also simply be the easiest way for him to explain the foci and how they work (note that he neglects to mention that this particular foci is tied to Fen'Harel). 

Further Examination (Elven Inquisitor):

"Such things were foci, said to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire. But however Corypheus came to it, the orb is elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith."

(Me: Liar, liar, pants on fire.)

A Dalish Inquisitor will then agree with Solas that no matter what, the elves will be blamed if the truth about the foci emerges.  A sympathetic non-Dalish Inky will agree that he is right to be worried. Solas will then note that there are actions that can be taken so that such needless distractions are prevented.

Then Trevor Morris's beautiful music surges... and off we go. Next stop, Skyhold.