The Gift of Hindsight: Solas on the Brink

Hey, sweetie... let's catch up before we go observe some playful wyverns in their natural environments...

SOLAS: With luck, some of the past may yet survive.

I've been inching along on Solas's romance analysis, and hey, we're almost there! And here we are, with our unsuspecting Lavellan alone with Solas in the Rotunda after the events of the Temple of Mythal, and on the precipice of that pivotal, terrible, lovely, Last Date.

But before they go off ambling amongst the wyverns, they take the time to talk in his office. And for me, it's a big deal, this moment. There's something genuinely electric and strange going on in this scene for me—something that feels (as with so much to do with Solas) hidden in plain sight. The brief conversations that precede that last fateful date can seem innocuous, yet they are actually among the most crucial in the Solas-Inquisitor game relationship (especially if romanced).

Which is the reason for this blog post, and why I keep finding more to say before the actual date itself—which, I swear, will be my next post. NO REALLY. 

Yet as we reach this vital point in Solas's romance, I feel like it's important, given what follows, to take a look at where Solas is at this specific moment, in terms of his state of mind. For me, we can't fully appreciate what happens later on in Crestwood, if we don't take assessment his position right now, from a story and character point of view. So (with your patience) I'm gonna pause, and take some time to address the details—to take a few deep breaths before we move forward into all the lingering looks, intense close-ups, and regretful butt-grabs to come.

So here, ir abelas, let's take a brief look at Solas's situation before the break—at the changes he has undergone emotionally during the past year or more, and at who he is in this specific moment.

We have the gift of hindsight. So let's rewind, observe... and assess.

The Precipice (Beyond the Past, Before the Future)

At this point, as the Lavellan Inquisitor protagonist romancing Solas, we've achieved so much at this point in the storyline ourselves. (And it does feel, as always, like it's "us," doesn't it? Thanks to BioWare's superb handling of point of view. So that when the next major thing happens, on the date, it's... actually, personally, painful, for many players. Me included.)

But meanwhile, hey, we've stepped up. Been brave. Built the Inquisition. Closed rifts. Conquered masses, even while possibly losing every single member of our family and clan to a brutal massacre. We've also fought countless battles. Assembled a remarkable group of companions and advisors. We've played the Great Game and created alliances with Orlais at Halamshiral with charm and guile. We've further consolidated forces and achieved tangible military victories in the Arbor Wilds, and outraced Corypants through the eluvian to safety. 

We also may very well have drunk from the sacred Well of Sorrows, accepting the geas that lay upon it (eternally bound to the will of Mythal herself) for the sake of knowledge and power. And in this very Rotunda, just moments before, had that last big debate with Solas after the fights, mysteries and discoveries of the Temple of Mythal, and that crucial conversation about choice, freedom, and what Lavellan might do with all that power if she drank from the well. Where, for better or for worse, most of our choices there seemed to convince Solas that his path is a righteous one.

In addition across that past year or so, of course, we've also managed to embark on an intense romance with—unknown to us—an ancient elven god (or the closest thing to it). 

Now let's continue briefly on from the Well discussion, as Solas gives himself a mental shake, and moves forward in the moment, while I analyze every single tiny aspect. (Hey, it's what I do. Even though I know, somewhere, that those past and present Dragon Age writers who are kind enough to visit my blog are also surely shaking their heads and laughing over some of my conclusions and assumptions. I also occasionally imagine facepalm GIFs. Maybe some especially expressive eyeroll emojis too.)

I appreciate the metaphor that Lavellan is talking with Solas just before her date while facing his fresco of the obliteration of the Conclave. The symmetry is painful but accurate.

The Pause Before the Storm

SOLAS: Forgive my melancholy. Corypheus has cost us much. The Temple of Mythal did not deserve such a fate. The orb he carries, and its stolen power… that, at least, we may still recover. With luck, some of the past may yet survive. 

As always, there are so many double meanings to much of what Solas tells Lavellan here, even in this relatively brief statement. Examining each aspect of this line of dialogue—the Temple, the orb, its power, the recovery of the past... each element is vital to understanding Solas both now and in the future.

First, his comment about the Temple is intriguing. Sure, the Temple didn't deserve its fate—not recently—or millennia back, either. When Solas talks about what was 'deserved' at the Temple, isn't he speaking in layers again, and very likely also thinking of poor Abelas and his fellow ancient sentinel elves? The brief expression of regret is appropriate if they were in fact killed by the choice of the Inquisitor, but it's also similarly so in a quieter way even if they survived.

I've never seen this addressed (possibly because I am just that weird) but I always find it subtly sad that Mythal's Temple is now empty after the events at the Well of Sorrows. Now it's just one more elven ruin among many.

The Silent Temple

Despite its damage, the Temple of Mythal had managed to hold onto its ancient holiness and secrets, so that its sentinels lived still beyond all expectation, millennia later, protecting the holy waters of knowledge and sorrow in the name of Mythal herself. Whether through combat with the Inquisitor, or with the drinking from the Well, either way, that holiness is gone now. 

It is a sad and beautiful idea, to think of the Temple of Mythal in this moment with Solas. The Temple itself has been pithed; it is empty and hollow now. No longer will proud ancient elven sentinels walk its shadowed corridors and protect its secrets. The Well of Sorrows is dry, and the flowers and trees that surrounded it will go untended, as well its gardens surrounding those lovely magical pathways. The eluvian is dead and dull. The whole place will simply fall gently into the surrounding jungles—what's one more elven ruin in a world filled with them, after all?

The idea reminds me a little of a key moment in Mary Stewart's beautiful novel The Hollow Hills (the second book in her marvelous Merlin trilogy, which I cannot recommend enough), when Merlin enters an ancient shrine as a young man, years after encountering its holiness in his youth, and realizes with grief that the holiness is now gone, the god that was honored there now fled and silent.

But what of those who served Mythal? What do they do now?

Surely this hunk of ancient elven magnificence deserves to go forth and find love and happiness in the living world after a service of millennia, right?

His Watch is Ended

I have to think, if Abelas survived, that despite the palpable sadness of Abelas's departure from the Temple as the sacred well was emptied, Solas may even be happy for Abelas on some complex level, perhaps even envious—after all, Abelas's job is done. He owes nothing further to anyone... not even to Mythal herself.

Solas may even see there an echo of his own freedom (at last) from his long watch over Thedas from the Fade. And just as Solas had traumas galore to recover from at that emergence, so, too, must Abelas. 

What comes after duty? Is Abelas now free, at long last, to imagine living a flesh-and-blood life? (I mean, hey, judging by the fandom, I know there are hundreds or even thousands out there who would be happy to take Abelas out for the amusing meal and house wine...)

Me, I'm also wondering if Solas is thinking of the proud former Temple guardian and considering the fact that, years after he killed Felassan, hey, he does really need a new first lieutenant. Hmm...

That Orb? Stolen. So, so stolen. Seriously. It's a crime that nobody caught Corypants, you know, in the act of stealing it. Is it hot in here? It's hot in here, right? Ouch. SO STUFFY IN HERE!

The Open Falsehood

As far as the Orb? Let's face it, Solas is openly lying about the Orb as a "stolen" power, since we'll find out later on that he himself caused the Orb to reach Corypants, hoping that his tinkering would both unlock the Orb and kill him (a definite win-win for Solas).

And yet this realization is, paradoxically, why I do have sympathy for Solas when it comes to the devastation of the Breach, despite his own complicity and recklessness in handing over an ancient Orb of incredible power to our favorite grumpy, stripey-stockinged Darkspawn Magister. As with his long-ago raising of the Veil, which resulted inadvertently in the enslavement and devastation of the very people he was trying to save, I believe that Solas had no idea Cory would actually succeed with the Orb, much less create the Breach, rifts and untold horrors—or that, because of that moment, hundreds of thousands across Thedas would die.

I've seen a lot of Solavellan fans argue that Solas never lies, that his mistruths are more the product of avoidance and slippery wordplay. But I can't agree. As he does about the Orb here, Solas lies to our faces several times throughout the story of Inquisition (most notably, when directly queried about the Orb, the Conclave, or Skyhold). It's not something I'm angry with him for—I've found it really interesting, in fact, to try to imagine when Solas was most tempted to speak up and tell the truth, finding always that he was unable to do so.

Of course, we already know one major moment of temptation lies just moments ahead for him. But I think there have been others, too (I'd imagine the Fade Kiss was another one).

Solas also suffers from another flaw that only the immortal being can truly assimilate: He has grown used to tragedy. Large-scale apocalypses may bum him out, but they are, for him, not that unusual at this point.

Awakening Dread

While the impending Last Date ends badly for us Lavellans, I think there's real agony and breakage in that ending on both sides. And I also believe that it's not there, but here in the Rotunda, where Solas begins to crack. I mentioned previously that I perceive the scene here as one in which Solas seems a little unstable (and I think Gareth David-Lloyd leans into this subtly in his performance)—Solas is by turns enraged, scared, arrogant, worried, and... perhaps most unsettling of all, euphoric. There are little potential moments in this conversation where he comes across, well, like a cult disciple who's just been served a brand-new dose of tasty Kool-Aid. (Oh, dear.)

Let's face it, Solas is a brilliant tactician and strategist, one who successfully defied the gods that once ruled multiple worlds, from the Fade to the layered kingdoms of Arlathan. He's a superb mage, with talents I believe he has kept tamped down and carefully hidden, once he began to regain his strength over the past year to eighteen months (Like, come on! He has to be able to shapeshift into a Dread Wolf. In my head it's already true, darn it). But he's also a flawed and sometimes arrogant man who cannot admit what he doesn't know, and he's blind in ways that are believable and self-perpetuating. Solas may have survived for millennia, but he did so with every one of his formidable flaws intact, as well as his equally formidable gifts. He also suffers from another flaw that only the immortal can assimilate: He has grown used to tragedy. Large-scale apocalypses may bum him out, but they are, for him, not that unusual at this point.

What writer Patrick Weekes has done with this situation in a literary sense is both tricky and subtle; they've let Solas's own failings sink and mark him, so that when Solas awakened from the Fade, all his careful plans fell to pieces like a house of cards, because everything had changed, because this world was alive after all. He might have emerged cold and certain, focused only on bringing it all back, the past he had doomed, but, well, one assumes that it wasn't as easy to kill up close, out of the dream-reality of the Fade.

I think this is an important detail. It was one thing, the dialogue implies, for Solas to plan for his actions from within the Fade. Even when those actions were cruel, he would allow them as necessary and regretful. He would take responsibility, feel grief, and yet continue forward. Better that, than to live with his own failure. At first, it may even have seemed easy—after all, it's apparent in hindsight that Solas for the longest time can't accept the current world state he finds, can't accept these other beings as people. It's "In Hushed Whispers" all over again. Everything must go. Nothing matters but that promise of restoration.

And for awhile he's managed himself mercilessly to stay on-path. The sad Fade-execution of Felassan at the end of The Masked Empire is notable both for its swiftness and for its implacability. Felassan knows before he meets Solas that he is already doomed. He already knows there is nothing he can say that Solas will hear... yet.

Until Solas stumbles into the living Thedas and finds within a few short months that, oh shit, Felassan was right. And he's sorry. He's really, really sorry.

For Solas, the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition are, at most, a few chapters in a story spanning millennia.

A Different Story

One of my favorite writing tricks when it comes to character is to remind myself that every single character thinks that they are the center of the story. From Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, to Fredegar Bolger, Smeagol, Morrigan, Taryon Darrington, Squidward, E. B. Farnum, and beyond, when it comes to point of view, there are no bit players. We're all the heroes of our own stories. This is doubly (and literally) true for Solas, who not only understands far more than anyone else in DAI about what's really going on, he has to live with the fact that he was also the architect of several of those events.

For our Inquisitor, and for most characters we encounter, Inquisition is a story with a beginning, middle and even (thanks to "Trespasser") an ending of sorts. For Solas however, alone among our companions, the DAI story is merely an interlude, a chapter and diversion. He is living and reacting to an entirely different, hidden story.

There's a reason Solas bonds so closely with Cole in friendship, and it's not just because he loves Cole for his spirit-self (and may feel kinship there). I think it's also because, like Cole, Solas is a dead man walking—a vengeful, wounded ghost among the living. 

Inquisition presents us with companions and advisors whose futures and fates each depend on a choice in a crucial moment. What's different with Solas's character arc is that his choice was made thousands of years ago, and he's been dealing with the aftermath ever since. Nothing we say or do can change that choice or threaten his goals. 

Unless we get him to forget, for a little while. Unless he falls in love.

The Gift of Hindsight

As players, we get to be gods too, though. We see more clearly than those around Solas.

So when we replay the game, things get understandably more complex. We can see what Solas is trying for, what he's working towards. We can see the bitterness and self-judgment and guilt of his past actions. We can taste the loss of his own past even as he helps a Tal-Vashoth Bull find new hope. We hear his anguish (and envy) even as he provides friendship and family to Cole. We see him find peace with his past warrior-self with everyone from Varric, to Blackwall, to Cassandra as he accepts and befriends them and supports that with the right cause, a pen, a sword, a shield, can be noble.

And of course, we see him fall fatally, hopelessly in love. Not just with the Inquisitor. With Thedas. And all at once, this awful muffled world he hated before is now filled with light and color. He is alive again, and whole. He can still feel. 

But. As with everything to do with Solas, this outcome must be measured, of course, against the potential chaos which might result from his own self-admitted, larger plans to tear down the Veil. He may not have intended this exact catastrophe, but at the moment he passes along that Orb, he's still taking concrete steps to remove the Veil and bring back the past, whether or not lives are lost in the process. So there's all this other emotional stuff going on with Solas, too—in every bantered conversation with companions, in every interaction, and (especially) in every scene in his romance. He's not just a humble mage, nor is he an ancient elven princeling, god, wolf, or trickster. He's a walking shadow filled with shame, guilt, sorrow, grief, self-hatred, trauma, and (unfortunately) certainty. But that's a post for another day, and I'll examine that complex ethical puzzle later on, in "Trespasser."

I also think there was another emotion when the Conclave exploded: relief. His plans were stalled. There was nothing he could do in the immediate moment. He was given a period of grace in which to watch, wait, acclimate, and... atone.

Lingering Questions

I've noted here before that I think that, emerging from the Fade and out of his "dark and dreaming sleep" into reality, Solas was concentrating on one step at a time, following a series of actions that would enable him to power-up back to his formidable evanuris-level skills. However, as always, the outcome far exceeded his expectations—or nightmares.

I also wonder, at this point, if Solas simply thought Corypants would use magic to try to unlock the Orb, or if he was aware that the unlocking would involve the ritual sacrifice of the Divine herself (I can't quite call Divine Justinia 'innocent,' since she was a Pope with her own spy network and lead assassin). If so, he implies fairly often in the banters with Blackwall and Sera later on that he would have accepted his culpability there, even while grieving the loss of life.

That's all assuming he's unshakably on-mission. Yet... my question, after the Breach, and for a long time is... but is he still?

I don't think so. 

As we pause here in the Rotunda... I think for most of that 18-plus month period Solas spends with the Inquisition, that from the moment of the explosion at the Conclave and his meeting with the Inquisitor (especially a romanced Inky), that he was so off-balance, so traumatized, guilt-stricken, and confused, that for awhile he just let everything go. He knew he would need power. He also knew that he would have to help the Inquisition through this terrible interlude and try to fix his latest mistake. So he allowed himself to do that. And by doing so, he dropped his guard. He got seduced—by emotion, by empathy, by friendship and love, and by the beauty of this damaged yet still recognizable world.

Enough so that he's allowed himself kisses in the Fade, and dreamed up sensual walking tours of dramatic, wyvern-filled jungles with the woman he loves.

Until he can't anymore. Until he wakes up, again.

Part of Solas's tragedy is his own age and perspective: To someone who has lived millennia, his companions and even the woman he loves are fireflies at best and ghosts at worst; already gone.

On the Brink

Thanks for letting me ramble! I wanted to take this pause, to do this analysis, because I wanted to both hold Solas accountable (most notably, for the Orb situation) and to express my conflicting feelings about his situation. I fear for what he plans to do, but I also think there's so much room for interpretation here that I can't judge him going forward until he acts. For now, I'm cautiously on the side of "antihero" versus "villain, so we'll see how it goes (I'll address his truly heroic acts in "Trespasser" later on, as well).

As a writer, I love and deeply enjoy the rich paradox of Solas as a character. In the beginning, he surprised me with his capacity for fire and feeling. Just as, in the end, he surprised me equally with his capacity for coldness. The fact that both opposing character elements are completely believable is a testament to the talents of the Dragon Age writing team, especially Weekes.

It's called Solavellan Hell for a reason, right? It's not fun examining this stuff. Because at this point in our story, we've walked with Solas and watched his reawakening from trauma, his slow realization that there is beauty, and courage, and worth, in this world, however stifling he had initially found it to be. I truly believe Solas loves Lavellan and at least some of her friends, that he has found real friendship, admiration and intimacy with his companions.

And then the last hurdle falls, and he feels admiration for the simple people of Thedas, for their courage. He feels this and accepts the shame that goes with it, because if his plans succeed, that courage won't matter, and many of those brave people may die or face a vastly different universe. When he makes that comment that he will remember their courage, he is talking about people he may already see as dead and gone. This past year has changed him, but what is a year or two among thousands? To someone who has lived millennia, everyone Solas meets are fireflies at best and ghosts at worst; already gone. Which is why his beautiful frescoes may be as much of an epitaph to Lavellan and the Inquisition as they are a gift or an homage to her story.

And that's why Solas's position in the story is so brilliant. Because that epilogue and its revelation about his true identity and true goals is a gut-punch. It hurts. And it should. Betrayal always does. Finding out you've been lied to always does. It's something Lavellan is about to experience firsthand.

The irony is that we can see, with our omniscient-player view of future and past alike, how Solas at this moment is poised on the brink, balanced between his past heroics and sins and his future potential apocalypses. Based on comments by Weekes about Solas's state of mind in Crestwood, I think Solas isn't planning on stomping on his beloved's vhenan at all. Right this second, he's feeling wonderful, victorious, and in love. He wants to take her to a place where magic prickles on the skin like electricity in thanks for what she has given him, and then further gift her with the truth. So that he can finally reveal himself and be honest, so that he can reveal the wolf who has walked beside her even when she was unaware. And to finally, I'm assuming, consummate their romance.

"Come with me, vhenan."

That's what's so perfect and terrible about this moment in the torchlight of Solas's tower room. He looks... happy. We should have known how terribly things were about to go. 

Unfortunately, blessed with hindsight as we are, we already know that Solas's joys, like his victories, never last.

Through the Eluvians: Recaps, Overviews, Explorations with Artifacts...

Merrill's eluvian is an important plot point in DA2. It may prove to be an even more important plot point if my suspicions about DAI are correct...

[Felassan] leaned over and poked at the stones. “It’s not the Fade. The runes are elven … If I had to guess, I would say that our ancestors actually created some sort of tiny world between the eluvians.”
—Patrick Weekes, The Masked Empire

As I move my quest and romance analyses toward the pivotal events of the Winter Palace and "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts," I thought it would be useful to recap what we know when it comes to the ancient eluvians as of the world post-Trespasser—and what I suspect. Because for me, the eluvians are the heart of the entire situation of "Wicked Eyes" for Solas—and the pinnacle. The endgame. I realized I couldn't address his odd and fabulous demeanor at the event (or what I felt it meant) without dealing with the eluvians first). So, darn it, here we are. 

And... yes... bring on the wall of text!

The Ancient Eluvian Network: A History

Created and used by the ancient elvhen people during the heights of Arlathan, the ancient eluvian network has existed for millennia, even as it has also eluded the understanding of most who have attempted to discover its secrets.

After the raising of the Veil and the fall of Arlathan shortly thereafter, we know that the network remained largely locked and inaccessible, hidden away, and that Tevinter was only able to use a few eluvians, at some point, simply for communication (but not travel) across distances. During the Dalish elf origin in Dragon Age: Origins, Tamlen and Mahariel discover an ancient eluvian that has been tainted by the Darkspawn. Tamlen vanishes, only to reappear later, doomed and Blighted, and Duncan destroys the mirror to protect others from the potential Taint.

There's a curious and fantastic vindication for Merrill fans to seeing her completed eluvian either at the Winter Palace or in the Crossroads. It's a singular moment.

Dragon Age II companion Merrill, however, retains a tainted shard from the shattered eluvian, which she purifies through blood magic learned via a Pride Demon within Sundermount, and she begins to attempt to restore the mirror bit by bit, this time in a pure and untainted form. Merrill's choice to pursue this path means that she must abandon everything, both for ethical reasons (she needs to minimize the potential danger to her clan), as well as for political ones, as her Keeper Marethari actively opposes her choices. So Merrill, recognizing that there is only one option that satisfies all requirements here, leaves her clan and pursues her research on her own.

I'll be addressing Merrill's choices (and how unjustly maligned I think she is as a character) separately, but in the meantime, let's just say that ultimately, there are varying potential levels of both success or tragedy here. Either way, depending on our choices in Dragon Age II, the mirror is destroyed or fully restored by Merrill.

And if restored, we will later see it, or mirrors like it, in the Crossroads as well as potentially at Halamshiral. My question here is whether it's simply a repeated element (which sometimes happens in Dragon Age or pretty much any game) or whether it's a deliberate and meaningful object choice. 

Me, I vote meaningful choice—and that the eluvian is presented as intact, unshattered, and potentially active and usable. I think it is used, in fact... the night of the Masked Ball at Halamshiral.

But more on that in my post to follow.

And here, friends, is Merrill's completed eluvian, on full display at Halamshiral, stored away not far from an ancient elven artifact and Veilfire. Let fly the intrigue!

Meanwhile, Morrigan herself is obsessed with the secrets of the ancient network. Through research and outright theft from the Dalish, Morrigan discovers both an ancient treatise on the eluvians, and an intact eluvian she is able to activate.

Although the network remains largely dormant, she exhibits an ability to travel through at least a few eluvians on her own (specifically, the one in the Dragonbone Wastes, and later on, via a different eluvian that she brings to Skyhold).

Morrigan doesn't acquire her knowledge of the eluvians by honorable means, but it is an intriguing and potentially rich character element.

The Eluvian Network and The Masked Empire

But there are greater efforts to control the eluvians taking place elsewhere within a matter of years. 

As we learn in Patrick Weekes's beautiful and complex Dragon Age novel The Masked Empire, the Dalish Vernehn clan actually summon a Desire (or self-named "Choice") demon, Imshael, to attempt to reactivate the entire dormant eluvian network. Imshael has created a Keystone, a mysterious jewel like a huge ruby, that will lead its bearer to a central location connecting all eluvians across Thedas, and where the eluvian network can be activated and the password reset by the bearer (in a series of words or phrases they choose).

Nobody in Thedas has been as influential or as important in the modern history of the eluvians than Briala, especially via the events of The Masked Empire.

Imshael eventually tricks Ser Michel de Chevin into freeing him, and promptly massacres most of the clan, then almost casually gives the exiled empress Celene the Keystone in gratitude. 

The story moves along for several characters, them culminates after a series of exciting fights, intrigues, crosses, double-crosses and triple-crosses. All of which I'm basically convinced were part of Patrick Weekes's kindergarten years somewhere in Orlais as he brilliantly acquired the basics of the Great Game as well as how to wring maximum fan-tears from required plot points (LOVINGLY! I MEAN IT LOVINGLY!).

Then Celene, Briala, Felassan, Mihris, and Michel flee with their party from Gaspard into the tombs, intriguing and ancient chambers of magic or ritual, and through several eluvians, traveling in and out of the Crossroads, and eventually reaching that crucial central chamber. The journey reveals concretely that the eluvians are connected via the Crossroads, and that the Crossroads itself is a pretty exciting realm that is wholly separate from the Fade, a sort of pocket universe created by the ancient elves. 

The Crossroads is unpleasant for non-elves, but for elves it isn't just a pocket universe; it offers a tantalizing hub for connecting to worlds and locations across Thedas and—perhaps—beyond.

Navigating the Crossroads

While the Crossroads are colorless and physically sickening and disorienting for non-elves, they are comforting and filled with color for elves who travel them (a detail delicately and gloriously captured in "Trespasser," depending on the race of your Inquisitor). The story here also notes that elves can also move through the eluvian network at speeds that are near-supernatural, almost as if they are tessering through shorter ways much faster than a horse can gallop, for instance, on the surface of the actual world. This will be an important aspect I'll note later, relating to Solas's evening and potential actions at the Winter Palace at DAI's masked ball in Halamshiral.

Meanwhile, Briala's journey with Felassan, Celene, Mihris and the others takes them through countless tombs and mysterious rooms that reveal ancient and terrible crimes as typical then as now, in which class targeted class. They discover the brutal murders of the ancient elves while defenseless in uthenera, as well as the callous abandonment of ancient elven servants who were trapped and left to cruel lingering deaths (and terrible resurrections due to the protective spells on the tombs) by their so-called noble employers and masters.

In Masked Empire, once they reach the central chamber and defeat the ancient varterral guarding the pedestal, Briala takes the stage in a gorgeous bit of drama (after sexily stealing the keystone during a kiss with the empress) and reveals her knowledge of Celene's betrayal, as well as that the woman she loves colluded with Mantillon in the murder of Briala's own parents, then uses the jewel to traverse the labyrinth and take control of the eluvian network herself, speaking the passcode she has created: "Fen'Harel enansal," or "Fen'Harel's blessing."

Although Felassan dies shortly after, executed in the Fade because he will not reveal the passcode to Fen'Harel (who we now know to have been Solas), the irony is that Briala's passcode probably took Solas all of 60 seconds to guess, tops (if he even required it at all, given the extent of his growing powers as of DAI). (But more on this later...)

Inquisition takes it slow, but eventually eluvians show themselves as deeply important to the events in which we take part.

Eluvians and Connections in Inquisition

First off, I hardly hear anyone talk about this, but it's so interesting to me that we meet Mihris again in Dragon Age: Inquisition! The last of her clan, formerly possessed by Imshael himself (and freed by Felassan, who simply told the demon "Something bigger is coming"), Mihris is an important figure from The Masked Empire.

Mihris was a fantastically complex character in The Masked Empire, and it's a treat to encounter her again in Dragon Age: Inquisition.

And here she is, just quietly wandering the Hinterlands, looking for the very first of those elven artifacts that Solas loves to go around and activate (starting the "Measuring the Veil" quest series), triggering that phrase we will hear over and over again from Solas, sometimes almost comedically, in the adventures to come: "I can sense one of the artifacts of my people." Note the specificity of this particular phrasing—remember, Solas doesn't think that anyone is "his people," and he in fact denies this connection over and over again during the first half of DAI (he may soften on this subject if romancing a Lavellan who calls him out on his unfairness to both the Dalish and to Briala). But the ancient artifacts are a nice, subtle clue: The ancient elves are who Solas truly sees as his people. At least this far in the story.

Mihris is friendly, but also slightly insulting (she calls Solas "flat-ear," a slur for city elves). If the Inquisitor is Dalish, she'll tell us about what happened to the Vernehn clan during The Masked Empire, but if they are any other race, she'll say she was trying to research the Breach in order to help. If this happens, Solas does this amazing thing—he says, "Ma harel, da'len," or "You lie, child," and at that point Mihris quickly ends the conversation.

If she joins us to go fight the demons and activate the artifact (it is entirely possible for us to be antagonistic to Mihris, and to kill her at this point), Mihris then also discovers an amulet of power that she desires to keep for herself. We have the option to ask Solas to help, and when he says to her, "Ma Halani. Ma Glandival. Vir Enasalin" (which I translate as "(You) help me. You owe me. It will lead us on the path to victory.") she hands it over.

What I think is interesting here is that Solas knows everything about Mihris, and she knows nothing at all about him. Further, it's worth noting that Mihris is only one of a very few people across Thedas who possesses the password to the eluvian network given to her by Briala. And here she is, showing a lot of interest in these ancient elven artifacts...

Artifacts of Power

So. Is Solas just seeking the elven artifact here? Or is he seeking Mihris? Or is it possible that the elven artifacts aren't just about strengthening the Veil (you already know why I think he would want to do this) but are also a potential power source for Solas himself—and possibly the eluvian network?

A digression: What if elven artifacts are actually somehow part of this twisted web and woof?

What if every ancient elven artifact that is activated is actually empowering... SOLAS?

Because... I'd argue that Solas's primary mission throughout Dragon Age: Inquisition actually boils down to three very simple and important tasks:

1. Regain and unlock the Orb

2. Retake control of the eluvian network once and for all

3. Power up

It would therefore not surprise me at all to learn that the ancient artifacts are both empowering Solas and the Veil... and that, if desired, that Solas can also turn them into pretty daunting weapons if he chooses. 

Think about it. There are 25 artifacts that can be activated across Thedas, as well as, interestingly enough, three that cannot be activated (two in the Winter Palace, in separate storage rooms, and one in the study at the Darvaarad).

But let's get back to the eluvians.

Want to feel lonely at Halamshiral? Play a romanced Lavellan. Viewed as a 'rabbit,' an inferior, and vermin for hunting by Grand Duke Gaspard.

The Eluvians in Inquisition

Things get interesting in Inquisition... eluvian-wise.

Because... for a little while, there's a lull. We don't hear about Masked Empire, or eluvians, or anything like that. We're preoccupied with archdemons and Corypants and stuff, and whoever we're romancing who may or may not be falling at our feet or (of course) ignoring us. DAMMIT.

But it's quiet about eluvians, let's just say. For awhile. And it's brilliant misdirection.

For instance, when we finally end up at Halamshiral in DAI for "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts," we don't hear crap about them. It's certainly a subtle and interesting story choice. But the best part of this is, once at the Winter Palace, we may—depending on our choices in Dragon Age II—discover Merrill's finished eluvian in one of the palace storage rooms (specifically, the one off the Library, with the Veilfire).

This discovery really thrilled me because it's always really special when the previous chapters of the game are echoed in the latest.

And also, because, dammit, it means Merrill was right. And that she did indeed finish her eluvian. As she deserved to do.

I'll stop there, for now. In the glow of something small achieved, even amidst a tapestry of impossible and magical and terrifying events.

I have more to say about the eluvians and their mysteries. But to do that, I'll need to take us back to our arrival at the Winter Palace... and we'll be looking closer at Solas's activities there on a specific night, as well... 

When—I think—he takes them back. For all time.

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.