The Last, Worst Date, or My Boyfriend Left Me in a Swamp and All I Got was This Stupid Wyvern T-Shirt (Solas's Romance, Part 5)

SOLAS: I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me. So I am going to get a few smoochies, grab your highly toned elven posterior, and then cruelly dump you without a word of actual explanation, leaving you in a swamp full of hungry wyverns.

And so here we are, my fellow Solasmancer. That tragic, crucial point in Solas's romance when we've reached the last, worst date—when Solas realizes the cruelty of what he's doing and that there is only one solution: the cruelest cut of all.

I always knew it was gonna be a doozy, because the scene is so emotional and complex. But hey, since my heart right now looks and feels like a stomped orange, it's the perfect time to dive right into the lowest pit of Solavellan Hell, and get this party started!

NOTE: In the images here, I'm using those from my very first Solasmance, and as a little bit of trivia, I made her a redhead because I wanted to headcanon that Iron Bull (my previous romance, in my very first DAI playthrough) would see her and yearn after her from afar. I figured it was only fair after what Bull put me through in that first playthrough. So what you see is my poor little redheaded Lavellan, who was very sweet but had very little sense of humor, and here, she's about to get her heart absolutely obliterated by Solas. 

Tissues? Check. Cynicism? Check. Capacity for emotional upheaval? 100%.

I'm ready. Let's do this.

Where We Are Now

So in Part 4 of my analysis of Solas's romance, I took a look at the balcony scene and declaration of love (I know the URL says Part 3, but it's truly Part 4, apologies). Then later, I discussed his state of mind after the Arbor Wilds... and how he seemed especially shaken on the brink of achieving everything he wanted. 

But still, right now everything's beautiful as far as Solas and the romanced Inquisitor. They share a moment in the Rotunda after Mythal's Temple, after Solas asks her that pivotal question of what she would do with the power of the Well, and which leads right into the date...

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. 

A romanced Lavellan has a few potential options in her response here, so let's take a look at them:

First off, she can simply reaffirm that whatever happens, she and Solas will be together (I know. Ouch.):

LAVELLAN: Whatever comes, I will have you by my side.

ME: Oh, sweetie...

Option number two here is one of the most hotly debated among "Solavellan" fans, or Solas romancers, because of the implication that they may already be sleeping together:

LAVELLAN: You’re being grim and fatalistic in hope of getting me into bed, aren’t you?

SOLAS: I am grim and fatalistic. Getting you into bed is just an enjoyable side benefit.

I've already given my case for why I feel this is a simple, flirtatious misdirect, and that they do not have sex. His denial in "Trespasser" is so emphatic I just feel there's no way they were ever together in that way, and I feel like that point of view is further backed up by the fact that there are no kisses on demand, and no love scene. 

But I know it can definitely be seen from both sides, and Weekes has also emphasized that it was written to encompass either point of view.

The third option in this conversation is a fairly strong echo of the romanced Inquisitor's last bedroom scene with Bull, where they may struggle with the idea that they may not survive:

LAVELLAN: You’re talking like you’re going to die. Stop. We’re going to get through this.

SOLAS: I hope you’re right.

No matter how the conversation has gone thus far, it ends with a plea from Solas for the two of them to escape for awhile:

SOLAS: Come with me, vhenan.

And then they're in an ancient elven shrine in Crestwood, where they wander through a breathtaking ancient series of paths and wide tunnels, culminating in two enormous hart statues of stone within. 

We may have glimpsed this area earlier, if we did the "Wyrm Hole" quest given by Judith, which then led us to a wide pond overseen by the ram statues, and bordered by lush green swamplands. 

There are three wyverns at this location, and sometimes if glitching in response to mods during the Crestwood date with Solas, those wyverns may actually pop in and out of the dialogue cutscenes (and it's pretty funny).

Of course, it's even sadder and funnier if we picture the fact that—after the events here—Solas simply leaves Lavellan alone at the swamp. Surrounded by wyverns.

But before we jump into the delicious heartbreak and kissage ahead, let's take a look at this interesting choice of location for their date, shall we?

The Harts of the Ancient Shrine

Why this place, this shrine? What does it mean to Solas?

While many have casually referred to the statues here as halla, they are harts, which have great meaning to the elves, and especially for the Dalish. For instance, if we play an elven Inquisitor and we do the Red Hart mount quest available on the War Table, we're gifted the hart and given this note written in flowing script from "a distant clan of Dalish," as follows:

We find our kin in strange places. Though we know not if you will carry tradition with you, we would see you carry pride in some form. For the wounded sky is all of ours, whether belief is shared or not. Let all see this, and convey yourself as we should be.

Emmasalin var suledin evanura.

If I break this down from a variety of Codices or notes, "emma" usually means "mine" but here I'm thinking it's plural and means "our." "Salin" seems to mean "again." "Suledin" means "endure," and "evanura" here may mean "honor." (If we get the sword Evanura in the Emerald Graves, it is noted as a "blade of honor" forged for Mathalin, the first of the Emerald Knights.)

So, considering that elven is a cipher, our elven note for a Dalish Inky could be something like:

Our - again - far - endure - honor.

So perhaps the sentiment could be, "With this gift, even from afar, our honor endures." Also, it's interesting, isn't it, that the note references the desire for the elven Inquisitor to "carry pride?"

Meanwhile, if the Inky is not an elf, they get a different note:

Perhaps you are not as we and do not share what we believe, but this threat is common to us all, for the wounded sky belongs to everyone. If nothing else, we would have you sure of foot in your journey toward victory.

 

Mas enasalin lasa revas evanura

This one may be a bit easier. "Enasalin" is "victory," "lasa revas" is "is/are free" and if "evanura" is again "honor," maybe this sentiment is "[may] - victory - be free - with honor" or, perhaps, "With this gift, we wish you freedom and honor in victory." Or, "with this gift, may victory be free with honor," perhaps? 

What do you think? Please suggest your own interpretations, as mine are very stilted here and I'm sure I'm missing all sorts of wonderful potential messages.

And of course, this could be totally wrong.

More Ancient Details and Guesswork

If we look back to previous visits, there are familiar statues to both Fen'Harel and to Falon'Din outside the Crestwood shrine.

There's a mural inside the encircling walls here that also appears at the Temple of Mythal, with the addition at Mythal's temple of a dragon image flying above.

So what's the mural? Are these elven slaves or armies? They're riding harts—are they fighting each other? The Evanuris? The Forgotten Ones? Are they, perhaps, creatures of Ghilly's?

This very same dragon also appears behind the waterfall here...

We've seen this more complete image—with the dragon—in the Temple of Mythal. We also see it again, later on, in "Trespasser." And we also find this dragon image repeatedly across Thedas (and even at Skyhold).

Which also reminds me of the Codex about the "sinner" who was egged on by Dirthamen and Ghilan'nain to commit the crime of high treason by taking on "a form reserved for the gods and their chosen," who "dared to fly in the shape of the divine." And of course, as we know, it's a rare instance in which Mythal was not merciful and fully unleashed her wrath.

Given what we now know about Ghilan'nain being pretty monstrous, this will undoubtedly come up again so I'm noting it here in case it's directly relevant.

While the harts are not halla, this does seem to be a shrine to Ghilan'nain, and the Venatori codex nearby does note that this is an "elven ruin."

So why does Solas bring her here? My guess is, despite all of my intricate guesswork above, that it's a relatively simple thing: It is an ancient place holy to the elves. The Veil is thin. So Solas likes this place because it feels like he is momentarily back in his own time. Perhaps it even makes him feel, for a little while, like he is young and hopeful again.

The Truth (The First Sudden Swerve)

The date begins as we go to the cutscene. Solas and Lavellan walk into this ancient holy place, and Solas is visibly happy—he comments on the atmosphere as they walk, hands linked. "The Veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?"

It's not entirely clear, by the way, that the Inquisitor does feel what he feels. She doesn't respond, merely looks down and away, then back to him, openly inviting. Then he touches her face tenderly, and speaks:

SOLAS: I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me. 

ME: Oh, awesome! What's it going to be? A poem? A piece of jewelry? Maybe a pony? Or... maybe... finally... SEX? Although I admit that a cave floor near a bunch of wild wyverns wouldn't be my preferred location, but beggars can't be choosers, so let's do this!
SOLAS: Hold your halla. It's not that. Because I gave it a lot of thought and I really felt that...

ME: Uh-huh...?
SOLAS: ...breaking your heart was the gift that would keep on giving.
ME: Oh.
SOLAS: We're talking absolute devastation. Pulverizing your heart into little tiny smithereens.
ME: Got it.
SOLAS: What do you think?
ME: Oof.

I may have made part of the above dialogue up. Yes, I'm fine.

So what Solas actually simply says is, "I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me." And it's lovely and heartfelt. It is also where things get very interesting, fast.

The Inquisitor has a variety of potential responses, with Solas's replies varying from thoughtful, to flirtatious: 

Option 1 ("I already know"):

LAVELLAN: That’s not necessary, Solas. You’re my…

SOLAS: That is the question, is it not?

Option 2 ("Interesting!"):

LAVELLAN: I’m listening, and I can offer a few suggestions.

SOLAS: I shall bear that in mind. 

Option 3 ("You don't have to do that."):

LAVELLAN: I know what we mean to each other.

SOLAS: Even so.

And then Solas says, "For now, the best gift I can offer is... the truth."

He is presented as being open, loving, and wholly sincere. It's a big moment.

SOLAS: You are unique. In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined.

And boom. This is where we have to commit and lock in the romance. Where we either tell Solas, "You know, I don't think this is going to work," in which case he is complimentary and courteous. Or we jump in happily with, "I feel the same way."

I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

It's diabolical, isn't it? For the unsuspecting and innocent Lavellan, for the player traveling this path for the first time, especially so. We have no idea what's just seconds away when we happily click "I feel the same way."

So we click. And he goes on, and there's still the smile there for "Then what I must tell you... the truth..."

And then he blinks—and changes direction. It's really notable, I think, that he stops smiling after "what I must tell you." It's right there, as he stumbles toward that phrase "the truth" again, that things get difficult.

He's brought her here, to this ancient place, to show her who he truly is. To tell her an impossible thing in a holy shrine to their lost people.

But he can't do it.

And he realizes this when? When looking at her face. Her beautiful face. And I think this is where it starts to go wrong, where reality starts to intrude for him. The dream begins to end and he's waking up whether he wishes to or not.

SOLAS: Your face. The vallaslin. In my journeys in the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean.

LAVELLAN: They honor the elven gods.

SOLAS: No. They are slave markings, or at least, they were... in the time of ancient Arlathan.

Potential responses here:

That doesn't matter.

That can't be right.

We were wrong?

That's a lie!

For me, the most interesting part of this is Solas's explanation, which is (as always) not entirely forthcoming:

SOLAS: A noble would mark his slaves to honor the god he worshipped. After Arlathan fell, the Dalish forgot.

Isn't the truth actually even more devastating and complex? That the nobles he's talking about were originally the Evanuris themselves? For me, this adds a whole additional layer of grotesqueness to what Solas is explaining, because there was no "honoring of gods," in that case—at least, at first—the vallaslin were simply practical symbols of ownership. Like a bar code on a can of peas.

Ugh.

Echoes of Past Revelations

The Inquisitor and Solas talk a bit more here, with the tone from Lavellan either sad, accepting, outraged or defiant at the revelation, but again, what's interesting to me is that while Solas tries to assuage her sadness or upset, and while he may even compliment the Dalish for simply spawning her, his anger at the Dalish is still very much present.

And again, it's complicated. Remember, Solas went to the Dalish as the very first thing he did upon awakening. It's the first thing he reveals to us when we meet him, way back after the Conclave. He went to them, his people, to tell them the truth—to tell them the truth he is telling Lavellan right this minute.

And they turned him away. They threw him out.

That's what he cannot accept. While I truly think Solas's humility is genuine in that he doesn't see himself as a god, he is nevertheless still a prideful and occasionally arrogant man, and (to be fair) he knows this about himself. He may not be divine, but he is ancient and knowledgeable, possessing the secrets of millennia... and they threw him and his knowledge out like trash.

No wonder he hates the Dalish. He loves them too much to be neutral.

Now he's told this truth again, to the woman he loves, but it's not the truth he meant to reveal. 

The Vallaslin

Here's where we're faced with our next big choice... to keep or to remove the vallaslin? Lavellan, as before, can answer with an assured yes or no, or with uncertainty. Regardless, he is apologetic and gentle, noting in most cases that he didn't mean to cause pain, and that he feels selfish for doing so. Then she makes the choice. 

What to do? There are powerful arguments on both sides here. Many who choose to keep the vallaslin point out that it doesn't matter what these markings meant thousands of years ago—it's what they mean now that's important. And they're not wrong about that.

If she chooses to keep it, Lavellan tries to explain it to him, but he truly doesn't seem to need it:

LAVELLAN: I know you told me because you wanted to help, but the vallaslin is part of who I am. I hope you can see past— 

SOLAS: Stop. You are perfect exactly as you are.

I like that those Inquisitors who choose to keep the vallaslin are treated with the same love and respect by Solas as those who do not. He reiterates that he finds her beautiful either way, and accepts that she is at peace with keeping this cultural part of her heritage.

However, for me, it's always an easy choice to remove them. Solas's revelation always makes me want to wipe them away as fast as possible. Luckily, he's got a spell for that, and he offers it immediately.

If she accepts his offer, Solas looks visibly pleased. He has his equanimity back, and he's happy and loving here—this is something he can tangibly do something about. He guides her over to a place beside the lake where they can sit together (and—speaking from the shallow end here, it has to be said—looks smoking hot while doing so).

Now, I'm going to be shouting out to the Dragon Age Inquisition artists for their genius again in just a few moments (as well as to directors Mike Laidlaw and Pierre Michel-Estival), but there's so much beautiful stuff already happening in this scene visually that I want to point out as notable already, and it's visible just from the screen capture I've included above. Look how tactile everything is. You can almost feel the rough texture of Solas's tunic, and see the silkier texture of the edging around the neck. Look at the delicate coloration of Solas's face here—the freckles, the slight blush to lips, cheek, and ear. You can actually see the slight glisten of moisture or sweat on his face in the light from the lake.

When they sit together, the lake is a soft, limpid pool behind them, with the falls distant but still visible (and gently adding to the ambiance of sound as well).

What I love about all of this detail is that it's immersive and overall, it's deliberately sensual. It's creating an atmosphere that lulls us into the romance as surely as Solas's smile or Trevor Morris's light and rippling romantic score.

Once Solas and Lavellan are seated together, he removes the vallaslin, in another visually stunning moment that is among my favorites in the  entire game. I love the spark of illumination on Solas's eye here, the way his hands frame her face as he removes the marks. As is usual with Solas, the magic we see is blue-ish in hue.

Then the spell ends, and the deed is done. 

Solas speaks as he looks at her then, once the light fades: "Ar lasa mala revas. You are free." They are the same words he spoke thousands of years ago, the words he spoke to the slaves he freed when he removed these same markings from them at his secret fortresses.

I think it's possible that writer Patrick Weekes included this dialogue not just as Solas's traditional close to the spell, as something he's used to saying there, but as a possible indicator that—for this brief few seconds—Solas is back there in his mind, back in the past where he was truly alive and happy. Where, one has to imagine, his choices felt easy in comparison.

But Solas can't actually free the Inquisitor. Or himself.

Still, for a few seconds, it's enough. They stand together, the Inquisitor silent and (in my own headcanon, at least) coming to terms with the moment, and with this incredible change to her reality in that she has either not removed the vallaslin but must adjust to its true meaning, or that she has removed the vallaslin, and things have changed forever in a different way. 

A Permanent Shift

If Lavellan chose removal, I think this is a huge deal. Her face is no longer marked to designate her god or culture.

If you are a headcanoning fool (like me), if you are an overthinker who enjoys immersing yourself in this game, then this moment after vallaslin removal is truly so pivotal because she is no longer visibly Dalish. 

If any of you play the Dragon Age tabletop RPG, one of my favorite things about it is the fact that, man oh man, you REALLY understand when playing that game what it is like to walk through Thedas as (in my character's case of the past two years) an apostate and a Dalish elf. As a mage, you carry a five or six foot staff that has zero reason for existing except for the casting of magic (no matter how your mage might protest that it is, er, a bow, a walking stick, or a fishing pole). Oh, to be Felassan, with his magical staff that changes to an easy-to-hide twig!

Beyond this, even beyond class, and even if you aren't a mage, you are Dalish to the world. Your face is tattooed, and depending on which god was honored, marked heavily and indelibly on forehead, cheeks, chin, and even neckline. Everywhere you go, you are recognized as Dalish, and potentially trusted or distrusted as a direct result. In the RPG, this means that even a simple walk through a town or city carries risk, if you pass a templar, for instance, or an unfriendly guard. I've been shocked at how stressful it is to play a Dalish apostate, and have often envied my companions simply for their abilities to walk into a place, or to talk to townspeople, without instant danger or prejudice. It's really beautifully done.

It's also an accurate representation of Lavellan's world state.

Now, in Solas's romance, her visible Dalishness has been removed for all time. Lavellan can go forth into the world wearing a hat or headband covering her ears and no one will even know she is elven at all. Or she can return to her clan (if they survived) only to be met with distrust and anger at what she has removed. She is more disconnected in some ways than ever before, and (I think) is consequently tied more closely to her found family in the Inquisition. This is why I am so glad that Josie, at least, recognizes the loss of her vallaslin and comments on it (and it's a perfectly acted moment by voice actor Allegra Clark there, as Josie is shocked at the change, but instantly attempts courtesy and apology, assuming wrongly that the vallaslin was always removable).

Even before the terrible break that is about to occur, everything has changed.

A Moment in a Dream

But let's get back to the date, where Lavellan is enjoying her last few seconds of relationship happiness.

Solas is euphoric and loving, and whether he does the spell or not, he tells her how beautiful she is. The strings of Trevor Morris's score surge, and we're right up close with the two of them as they kiss passionately again, and (oh, Solas) of course he goes right in for another ass-grab, and who can blame him, as those interminable steps at Skyhold's entrance (and up to her quarters) have certainly done their job in creating a truly enviable elven posterior.

After a lovely shot of the two of them before the lake and its waterfalls, there's a cut in to an intensely close point of view, and this is where I think the direction and animation of the scene is diabolical genius.

They kiss more, and it's SO close and intense. Deliberately so. Again, we can see the texture of their hair and skin in almost photorealistic detail. The slight glisten of sweat or mist. We can, if we care to, count every single visible freckle on this side of Solas's face. We can see the scar above his right eyebrow better than ever before, and even the fact that his eyebrows are, yep, slightly auburn.

It's notable that the focus here is on Solas's face during the kiss, not hers—his eyes closed, visibly lost in the moment. It's inviting us into the subtle perspective of the kissee, of Lavellan as the recipient.

They kiss for about seven seconds total, if you count the seconds, which obviously I do, since I did it before back on the balcony, so why stop now? Besides, I once counted the scars on Bull's back, so I'm obviously willing to do the hard work here for my art. It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it.

But yeah. That's all she gets. Six or seven seconds, and he draws away, and he looks absolutely lost, utterly in love, it's all wonderful, and then... 

BOOM.

We're still in so close here, when his face changes. The animation is terrific—his expression becomes subtly sorrowful, and he raises his eyebrows slightly as he draws away.

SOLAS: ...And I am sorry. I distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again.

The upset on Lavellan's face is also beautifully done, as we, the players, review our potential emotional responses from poor Lavellan here that include:

Sad: I don't want to lose you.

Angry: Are you kidding me?

Stoic: If you must.

I have played Solas's romance several times. I have been pleading and I have been angry, but never in between. Let's just say that I have never, ever, ever chosen "If you must" for actual story or character reasons. I love that this choice exists, but I can't quite imagine picking it.

The Complete Dialogue Trees

Below, I'll outline every single dialogue option that's available to us in terms of Lavellan's potential reactions to Solas's unexpected pronouncement. I'm doing so for a few reasons—first and foremost, to establish the fact that yes, there's nothing we can say here that will fix this. We can be accepting, devastated, or angry, and it doesn't matter. He leaves. He will always leave.

Beyond that, this reaction also has lasting consequences within the game story, as how Lavellan responds here emotionally is also how she will later respond when facing Solas again years later, in "Trespasser." If she's sorrowful and gentle here, that's how she will appear to him then. Or if she wants to throw fireballs at his pants? She's going to appear angry and hurt when she sees him again on that distant day (and I am here for it).

Sad ("I don't want to lose you"):

It's not surprising that the "sad" reaction offers the most complex and detailed dialogue trees...

LAVELLAN: I don't want to lose you.

SOLAS: Please, vhenan.

Next tier:

I love you.

Don't do this to me.

I believe in us.

"I love you."

LAVELLAN: Solas... don't leave me. Not now. I love you.

SOLAS: You have a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world—

LAVELLAN: Why not this one?

SOLAS: I can't.

"Don't do this to me."

LAVELLAN: Tell me you don't care.

SOLAS: I can't do that.

LAVELLAN: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a coldhearted son of a bitch and move on!

SOLAS: (silence)

"I believe in us."

LAVELLAN: I'm not giving up on you, Solas.

SOLAS: You truly should.

LAVELLAN: Whatever you need, we can find together.

SOLAS: No, we can't. You'll see.

SOLAS: I'm sorry.

He walks off, leaving her behind as we fade to black. Except in the case of "Don't do this to me," where SHE walks off and leaves him! And I love it so much.

Angry ("Are you kidding me?"): 

LAVELLAN: Wait. What? You bring me here, take the vallaslin from my face, and now you just end it?

Stoic ("If you must.")

LAVELLAN: All right. If that's your decision, so be it.

SOLAS: I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.

Next tier to both of the above:

You did: Everyone makes mistakes.

Great job: Well, we don't always get what we want, do we?

Your loss, asshole: Banal'abelas, banal'vhenan! (This translates from elven as: "Nothing-sorry, nothing-heart," which I'd essentially put as "You're not sorry, and you have no heart.")

SOLAS: I will see you back at Skyhold.

He walks off, leaving her behind as we fade to black.

 

As I mention, in most versions above, Solas leaves her behind in the swamp, with, as noted, the exception being "Don't do this to me," where SHE leaves him. And it is glorious.

Anyway, in my own personal headcanon, in all those endings where he leaves her in the swamp, a raging and tearful Lavellan then fights the three wyverns, traveling back at Skyhold thanks to, presumably, some eluvian or other fast-travel assistance from maybe Dorian or Morrigan. Either way, she arrives several hours later absolutely covered in blood, mud, slime, and wyvern dung. She then goes to the Herald's Rest and gets absolutely schnockered on maraas-lok.

But that's just me.

Regardless, it's all so well animated and depicted. The entire scene is a master class in voice acting, with a passionately emotional female Inky's responses in the American voice as acted by Sumalee Montano, or a softer, more anguished female Inky as acted in the English-accented Inquisitor by Alix Wilton Regan. And of course, the scene acutely demonstrates all of the sadness and conflict that actor Gareth David-Lloyd is able to put into his beautiful Welsh voice, as well.

Clues and Comfort from Patrick Weekes

I was not the only one to be unexpectedly devastated by my poor Inky's Solas dumpage, so I'll always appreciate that writer Patrick Weekes has been so accessible to Solasmancers who were similarly destroyed. Patrick has been sympathetic and kind to so many who were hurt or unhappy with Solas's actions (even when some people were rude to them—people, please be nice to Patrick, dammit!). And Patrick has also repeatedly emphasized that Solas indeed does truly love us. I mean, our Inquisitor. Aw, who am I kidding? It feels personal, doesn't it?

We're not mad because Solas dumped her. We're mad because Solas dumped us. Individually and collectively. And now we Solasmancers are now like this gigantic Blanketfort polycule cheering each other on, each of us going, "Solas will come back to you! I know it! He really does love you, hang in there!" And it's adorable. 

Meanwhile, in their interview with Nerd Appropriate years back, Patrick revealed some of Solas's thoughts in this  actual moment, as follows, and it's a gift for any of those Solasmancers who need comforting or reassurance that our fictional boyfriend did, in fact, care deeply:

WEEKES: If you want to see the utter sadness of Solas, it’s the playthrough where you romance him. You really get to see that he does care about you. It’s obvious, I hope, that his feelings for you are not fake. He cares about you deeply. He is always one step from telling you the truth about himself.

Like, for instance, what came across so fantastically is that he’s about to tell you the truth, pulls out at the last second, tells you about the vallaslin instead, and then again he goes in on the kiss and is so ready to just lose himself and forget about the past... 

And then he has to push back. He knows that he has to break it off right there, or else he’s going to have betrayed himself. It is so sad, and it has broken the hearts of many players, and it broke my heart when I wrote him.

Come on, be honest. It's a little satisfying to hear that it broke Patrick's heart too, isn't it?

Or is that just me?

The Path of Sorrows

And there we are. And there she is, alone, and hurting. And she's still alone, arms wrapped around herself, staring off that balcony where he first kissed her in the real world, at the end of Inquisition. It's tragic enough to make a person go off and create the world's saddest playlist... and then listen to it on endless repeat.

It's a tribute to the writing, direction, and rendering that this final scene of Solas's doomed Crestwood date is so painful, and that it comes across with so much genuine emotion and heartbreak.

I do think it's apparent that Solas loves Lavellan, and that she is not the only one whose heart is breaking here. However, dramatically speaking, for me, the difference in their ages is never more important than right here, because to me, that experience protects him even as its lack emphasizes her vulnerability and capacity for pain. Solas has lived for millennia, at this point; he has been able to better protect his heart, to add a little armor. She, on the other hand, is a young woman who has overcome trauma, imprisonment, open racism and prejudice, and even the potential loss of her entire family—and she has met every one of those challenges with courage and willing sacrifice. She has allowed herself to trust this man... and his response was to destroy her heart. 

She doesn't know why he's done that at this point; she doesn't get that it's precisely because he loves that courage of hers, and because he cannot face the expression she will wear when she discovers who he truly is, and what he truly intends.

I also think that, for Solas, his romance with Lavellan has been a respite, a healing thing that reconnected him to this world and showed him how much beauty still remained. Unfortunately on the other hand, I  feel that for the romanced Inquisitor, what happens here creates instead a deep and abiding wound, a betrayal that will hurt for years to come. It is that much more ironic, therefore, that Solas's endearment for Lavellan, used even in many cases when he is ending their relationship, evokes home and heart itself—especially when his words shatter it to pieces.

When it came to Solas's romance, we whose Inkies fell for our quiet mage were always doomed. "Atish'all vir abelasan," Lavellan was told not so long ago, or "Enter the path of the Well of Sorrows." 

Poor thing. She thought that sorrowful path was a metaphor. 

Solas knew differently. He's always known it was real.

A Taste of Lies and Sorrows... Talking with Solas After the Arbor Wilds

In his "You have impressed me" compliments, the idea that Solas is professing that love in response to having his worst impulses confirmed is deeply sad to me. That's why it's a brilliant lead-in to the next moment... that of our last, terrible date.

SOLAS: You honor the past and work to recover what was lost, even if the cost is high. I respect that, and I am indebted to you for the reminder.

So I'm on the home stretch to my analysis of Solas's romance, but before we get to the kisses, tears and regretful butt-grabs of The Last, Worst Date Ever, I want to take a closer look at one of the most pivotal companion conversations in Dragon Age: Inquisition—our talk with Solas after the events of the Arbor Wilds and the vir'abelasan (The Well of Sorrows). (Note: I've updated this slightly from the original post to fix a few typos, and added a reference to the fact that the epilogue scene may take place in the Crossroads, as posited by @LadyInsanity.)

Saying No to a Sip

If we didn't drink from the Well, Solas is calm and even mildly euphoric after the Temple of Mythal. There's something complacent and secretly pleased about his demeanor, and, as with the events of Halamshiral, he's playing his cards close to the vest. He comments that "The Temple of Mythal was extraordinary. In all my journeys, I never dreamed of finding anything like it."

Which, to me, isn't a throwaway comment but an observation that is worth examining. It's Solas writer Patrick Weekes being subtle with us again, giving us something potentially complex and layered within a seemingly innocuous, simple statement by one of their characters.

First and foremost, it's obviously a pretty disingenuous comment by Solas, since he would have to have seen far grander temples to the Evanuris back in the ancient days. Not to mention the fact that, right there at the Well itself, ancient elven sentinel Abelas had just told us that Mythal's Temple was destroyed by the very people who betrayed and murdered Mythal herself.

A Little Deception

Doesn't Abelas's job sound awful, by the way? He and the ancient sentinel elves evidently spend all their time sleeping, basically snoozing their way through millennia, only waking up on alert in time to fight or banish anyone who tries to enter the Temple of Mythal. If they survive after combat, they apparently just go back to bed until the next incursion. It's like the worst on-call fireman's job ever. And with no side benefits like a fireman's pole, dalmatians, communal cooking, riding around in a cool fire truck, or getting the thanks of a grateful community.

So it's another small moment of deception from Solas, if we examine it, because he has likely already been to the Temple of Mythal, even if it was millennia back. Wasn't it likely the site of Mythal's actual murder? Even though it's implied that Solas and Mythal were divided at that point (perhaps over differences on the issues of elven enslavement, the use of the vallaslins, or some other betrayal), we know that there remained deep love between them, to the point that Mythal's death sent Solas spinning into acts of revenge and retribution that would change the entire face of the world.

So it seems likely that Solas would have hastened there himself way back when, either to prevent her death, or to discover it on his own. The other Evanuris beings who killed her may even have hoped to pin the death on Solas himself, for all we know. Either way, I think he's been there before. Ironically, before most of his many journeys to come across both Thedas and the Fade.

And keep in mind that the Temple of Mythal is also strongly implied as the prearranged meeting-place for Solas and Flemeth in the shocking final epilogue scene in Dragon Age: Inquisition. (although there is also a persuasive case by LadyInsanity that it takes place in the Crossroads, as well). But I'd swear on my stuffed Emerald Graves Nug that both of them know the place all too well.

That's all we get if we didn't drink—it's a mild, quiet conversation with no surprises (yet).

However, the situation is, of course, much more fiery and emotional if we did, in fact, drink from the vir'abelasan.

What Inquisition has accomplished beautifully in a big-picture way with Solas's story is to constantly remind us that sometimes the worst fate you can suffer is to be trapped in your own guilt and regret.

The Taste of Sorrow

If we drank from the Well, the encounter is more volatile. Solas confrontational—frustrated, angry and scared at the implications of what the Inquisitor has done. As always, he cannot tell her what he knows about the immortal contract to which she has just agreed. As Inquisition's greatest champion of free will, Solas is predictably devastated that the Inquisitor is now bound to something she does not understand. He cannot tell her Mythal is real, the gods were real (at least, in some capacity), and that he himself walked among them, saving and dooming Thedas as a result.

Solas gets a lot of anger from many fans, and he undoubtedly deserves it. He's walked at our side for over a year now in the timeline of the game story, and he has reserved, omitted, and even obscured essential information from the Inquisitor and the Inquisition at large repeatedly in order to cover his own identity, motives and actions. 

Yet what the game has accomplished beautifully in a big-picture way with Solas's story is to constantly remind us that sometimes the worst fate you can suffer is to be trapped in your own guilt and regret (a fate Abelas understands all too well). It's something Weekes makes painfully acute in almost all of Solas's dialogues with companions, and especially with a beloved Lavellan. He wants so badly to speak. And yet he cannot do so. And because he is a true believer, because he truly thinks he is doing the right thing, his prison is binding. No moment of weakness or regret will salvage him because every moment of pain or loss simply provides him with the chance for further righteous sacrifice or abnegation.

And oh, The Last, Worst Date is looming, and I would argue that here's where we begin to see that fallout... even here.

So I like the scene a lot, because it's one of those moments in which I feel we're watching Solas have to face the bleak reality of his choices... and lose control. And justifiably so. He can't fix things, he can't go back, and he's caught in a cruel stasis in which he alone knows the miseries yet to come for those he has come to care for. Even though Solas seemed to tacitly want for us to drink at the time—or, at least, to do so instead of Morrigan, who he views as grasping carelessly for ancient power she does not understand ("She is right about only one thing: we should take the power which lies in that well")—he's nevertheless deeply, visibly upset.

This scene is instantly presented as intense and dynamic—we walk into the Rotunda with Solas, and he rounds furiously to confront Lavellan for drinking from the Well. Solas is about as emotional and unguarded as we've ever seen him.

SOLAS: I begged you not to drink from the Well! Why could you not have listened?
INQUISITOR: Solas…
SOLAS: You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elven god!
INQUISITOR: What does that mean, exactly?
SOLAS: You are Mythal’s creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her. You have given up a part of yourself.

Solas and Lavellan can have more conversations here, but they're mostly variations in which Solas reinforces the danger of the decision (and her loss of agency) while emphasizing the fickle and potentially twisted nature of the original 'gods.' In one of my favorite moments, Lavellan calls him out on the fact that she knows he doesn't believe in gods, and Solas agrees, but clarifies that he believes that these powerful beings did exist in some fashion, whether gods or something else. Again, I always love these moments in which Solas tosses out an idea like a guess, when he knows the truth beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Regardless, within a few short moments, Solas seems to take a breath, and to accept that what's done is done, and he makes a visible effort to calm down.

SOLAS: And you are bound to one of them now. I suppose it is better you have the power than Corypheus, which leads to the next logical question… 

And... here we go.

Oh, sweet Creators, and oh dear and fluffy Maker, Solas, please do not thank us for this particular revelation. Shit.

The Hidden, Vital Question

This, this, is the big moment for Solas... where, in hindsight, we realize all realities for Solas collide. He asks the question that means more to him than anything in the world, I believe. Right here and right now, Solas must know the answer to a vital question: What will she do with this divine power now? How will she use it to affect the world?

SOLAS: What will you do with the power of the Well once Corypheus is dead?

Lavellan can reply in a variety of options, here. She can respond that she will undo the chaos Corypants caused, she may respond that she trusts her friends, say that she will attempt to stay humble and share her power, or (last but not least) that she will not look back, but try to move the world forward.

It's no surprise that Solas reacts most powerfully to two of these responses—to the Inquisitor's resolution to bring back the past, or to move beyond that past into something wholly new. 

"I am indebted to you for the reminder"

Every one of these options includes an important disclosure from Solas. But, in hindsight, his open happiness if Lavellan responds, "I'll bring back what was," should be a warning bell that clangs across the Frostbacks. Solas is openly euphoric at the idea that Lavellan would put things back "the way they were, because it's the affirmation he so desperately desires—confirmation from someone he has come to love and admire that undoing the past is a good and honorable thing. No matter what the cost:

INQUISITOR: I’ll use whatever power I have to undo the chaos that Corypheus and his allies have caused.
SOLAS: You would put things back the way they were before?
INQUISITOR: Yes. I mean, not exactly…
SOLAS: I know what you mean. Thank you.
INQUISITOR: For what?
SOLAS: You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor. You have… impressed me. You honor the past and work to recover what was lost, even if the cost is high. I respect that, and I am indebted to you for the reminder.

Note how Solas's final moment of appreciation here emphasizes Lavellan's willingness to honor the past and "recover what was lost, even if the cost was high." He's happily grateful for the reminder.

I adore Solas. But his goals scare and worry me, and this, in retrospect, is pretty terrifying.

"I trust my friends"

In response to Lavellan's desire to trust her friends, Solas answers with a differently, yet equally telling, revelation:

INQUISITOR: I trust my friends.
SOLAS: I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory.
INQUISITOR: Why is this so important to you?
SOLAS: You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor. You have… impressed me. You must not let false modesty allow you to pass your power to someone else. There are few regrets sharper than watching fools squander what you sacrificed to achieve.

Which—that's Mythal, isn't it? It has to be about Mythal. Whom he loved and trusted, who may have called him out of the very Fade itself and into flesh all those thousands and thousands of years ago... and yet, at some point, he felt that she betrayed him. Then their friendship was sundered, even if the love remained.

I like the way this version of Solas's "You have not been what I expected" compliment also subtly references the fact that he feels like whatever he achieved in raising the Veil and imprisoning the Evanuris was then squandered by "fools" who came after. Are these the Dalish, perhaps, who became a wandering and lost people unable to remember their own history? Or all of the modern elves, Dalish and city elves alike? Or simply all of Thedas?

Yet it's worth noting that the first thing Solas did upon emerging from the Fade was to go straight to the Dalish and attempt to share his knowledge with them. Knowledge they declined, before forcibly casting him out.

Perhaps it is only then that, to him, bitter in his isolation, they became fools. 

"The Lure of Power's Corruption"

In option three of Lavellan's potential answers here, she attempts to retreat into the safety of abnegating power and ruling by committee, while Solas is instantly skeptical:

SOLAS: You think to share your power, to avoid the temptation to misuse it. A noble sentiment… but, ultimately, a mistake.
INQUISITOR: Why?
SOLAS: Because while one selfless woman may walk away from the lure of power’s corruption, no group has ever done so.

I love the foreshadowing here, as this, of course, is a situation Trespasser directly addresses front and center, and it turns out to be the central question on which the entire Halamshiral hearing hinges: Will the Inquisition remain as an organization or will it be absorbed into the Chantry, to answer to the Divine? Or is now simply the time for the Inquisition as a formal political entity to end? Our choices for our Inquisitors there will surely have massive repercussions in Dragon Age 4.

As a last interesting little detail, this is the only answer to Lavellan's plans where Solas does not give some version of the "You have impressed me" speech.

And here we are again, making a massive mistake, and simply reinforcing Solas's terrible agenda even when we express the actual reverse of his current and determined path. Because all roads lead to the din’anshiral for him at this point.

"I'll help this world move forward"

I find it interesting that the last option in our responses to Solas—the one that is the flip side to the first option (to "restore what was")—is the one that also draws the most emotional response from him. Which makes sense, since both answers, bookends though they are, are intertwined: 

INQUISITOR: The war proved that we can’t go back to the way things were. I’ll try to help this world move forward.
SOLAS: You would risk everything you have in the hope that the future is better? What if it isn’t? What if you wake up to find that the future you shaped is worse than what was?
INQUISITOR: I’ll take a breath, see where things went wrong, and then try again.
SOLAS: Just like that?
INQUISITOR: If we don’t keep trying, we’ll never get it right.
SOLAS: You’re right. Thank you.
INQUISITOR: For what?
SOLAS: You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor. You have… impressed me. You have offered hope that if one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grave… that someday, things will be better.

All Solas takes from this is, "I just have to keep trying, even if the consequences are grave." It's basically the worst and most tragic possible lesson he could take from what the Inquisitor noted. Instead of being freed by the idea that he can and must let go of the past—that he should move on both literally and figuratively from what haunts him—Solas sees this conversation that if he wants to undo the past, he simply needs to keep trying.

All of which makes that final "You have impressed me" compliment he gives to a romanced or high-approval Inquisitor bittersweet, to say the least. Because for me it's a disingenuous end to a disingenuous beginning. And as I always do, I love Gareth David-Lloyd's performance, as he communicates the slightest undercurrent of instability here, of euphoria and excitement beyond the moment. Something is not quite right here. Solas may actually be trembling in the aftermath of revelation and... relief?

It's worth repeating that I believe that Solas does truly love and admire the Inquisitor. Yet here, the idea that he's professing that love in response to having his worst impulses confirmed is deeply sad. That's why I find it a brilliant lead-in to the next moment... that of that last, terrible date. 

Solas tells us he loves us many times, and I believe them all within the story of the game. Yet here, his proclamation of admiration is not only somehow unearned and hollow, it is a subtle harbinger of sadness to come. 

In falling in love with an ancient god, we are already on the path to the din’anshiral. Solas is already far ahead. The greatest tragedy of the situation is that it's a path he walks alone, and love or no love, he will not wait for us.

The Reunion of Flemeth and Morrigan: Witches, Mothers and Daughters

 But Mom! It was just one pizza party and season 1 of "Girls!"

FLEMETH: "I nudge history, when it's required. Other times, a shove is needed."

SPOILERS FOR ALL OF DRAGON AGE!

One of my favorite scenes across all of the Dragon Age trilogy must be the moment when Morrigan meets up again with her terrifying yet wonderful mother, Flemeth... and has an unexpected and richly ironic close encounter with one of those very elven gods who have fascinated her for so long. Not only is it a fun scene (in all variations), but it offers some of the best and most concrete clues we'll get about Flemeth across the entire trilogy, so is therefore that much more worth exploring.

Besides, come on. It's Flemeth.

FLEMETH. 

But first, let's hearken back to set the stage.

By the end of Dragon Age: Origins, Morrigan, while still operating alongside Flemeth's agenda to gain the Archdemon Urthemiel's old god soul through the Dark Ritual, had nevertheless become certain that her mother meant to overpower her and then take over her body. She then sent the Hero of Ferelden to kill her mother and take her invaluable, ages-old Grimoire. The Hero then either fought and apparently killed Flemeth (in her dragon form) or simply talked to Flemeth and asked for the Grimoire outright, leaving Flemeth alive. 

And even here, of course, the plot's a complicated thing, depending on our choices, since in the "Witch Hunt" DLC, if we find Morrigan (or the new Warden does, if our own Hero died defeating the Archdemon), she will show a surprising awareness that Flemeth still lives. If we lied, without showing animosity for the deception, she simply warns us against what Flemeth may be capable of in the future. And even if we didn't lie, and did appear to defeat Flemeth in her dragon-form, Morrigan repeats the same warning—that Flemeth somehow may yet live, and to be cautious.

Then, of course, Flemeth shows up just in time to save Hawke in Dragon Age II, and to offer some potent words of wisdom there before literally flying off into the air. Sometimes Flemeth's awesomeness is so great that I cross fictional streams in spite of myself mentally, because I'd pay so much money to see Flemeth and Galadriel or Alice (of Lev Grossman's underrated The Magicians) talk about the price of magic on love and family.

Either way, let's flash forward a decade, to 9:41 Dragon and the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition, as Morrigan joins us after the events of "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts" and becomes part of the Inquisition gang. After the passage of years, Morrigan's noticeably quieter now, softer around the edges, less arrogant and brittle. She seems both lonely and vulnerable, and has spent the recent years gathering input and insight into the ancient elves on her own, while also protecting herself and/or her child (depending on your DAO choices) as DAI continued.

The story at this point can diverge depending on the following variables:

• Morrigan has the child Kieran, product of the Dark Ritual, and who carries Urthemiel's soul inside him
• Morrigan has the child Kieran, who is simply the human son of the Hero of Ferelden
• Morrigan is childless

The other major factors here are whether or not Morrigan or the Inquisitor chose to drink from the Well of Sorrows.

Either way, we've reached the point where history needs a little help, a divine nudge... or the good guys do... so it's time to call on Mythal.

"Hi, Mom."

And so here we are. Morrigan's eager and delighted, confident in her research and thrumming with excitement at meeting Mythal.

I always feel a little sorry for Morrigan here. She's just so darned excited. And so absolutely wrong about everything she thought she knew.

Then, oh dear, things go somewhat haywire... and Morrigan's horrified and scared and suddenly very, very vulnerable. We actually see and hear her subtly regress into childhood at several moments, which are beautifully envisioned by the artists and developers, and as acted by the always superb Claudia Black.

I'm always interested in this moment because it's been a very long time—over a decade, after all—since Morrigan saw her mother, and there are very few scenarios in which Morrigan came out looking all that great (although, granted, she truly seemed to think she was trying to protect herself). Either way, I'd say that Flemeth was very much aware of the fear and rage of her beautiful daughter, and their reunion was bound to be a dramatic one.

When Flemeth reappears, she's still as cool and queenly as ever, wearing her gorgeous DA2 apparel and the Hair Horns of Fabulousness (a hairstyle I am definitely a fan of making popular any minute now... the only downside I can see is the massive budget outlay on hair gel and hairspray... AND IT WOULD BE WORTH IT). 

Flemeth loves Mythal and shields her but they are not a single individual.
They are shared; each with her own failings, foibles, preconceptions, losses...
and needs for vengeance. There is both tragedy and wisdom to that realization.

Flemeth is one of the most beautifully envisioned characters across the trilogy, and her fantastic DA2 makeover was designed by the talented artist Matt Rhodes. Where once she was a crone in homespun in DAO, she arrives here in all her DA2 power, along with that little extra bit of mystery she seems to carry with her now. She's both witch and warrior, maiden and crone, goddess and vengeful woman. I think one of my favorite subtle aspects to her appearance here is that, while they were a darker greenish-brown hazel in DAO, since DA2 Flemeth's eyes are every bit as yellow-golden as Morrigan's now.

And now she's here just in time, yet again.

The Meeting at the Shrine

No matter which scenario we play here (Kieran or no Kieran), Flemeth is amused and Morrigan is as shocked as it is possible for her to be. But the two scenarios are intriguingly different, both visually and tonally.

First off, if there was no Dark Ritual in DAO and Kieran does not exist, then the Inquisitor, Morrigan and their party approach the Altar of Mythal in the Arbor Wilds at the appointed time and place. It's a location that is implied to be close to the Temple of Mythal itself (although it's interesting that Varric comments openly that there aren't any ruins nearby). It's a lovely area, and there are landmarks here that have actually made me reevaluate it as either the setting for the final Flemeth/Solas meeting or as being very close to it (we even see the howling wolf statues that we see nowhere else in the game but here and in that final scene).

Meanwhile, here we all are, waiting for Mythal at the altar. In this version of the meeting, there's no Fade, just this lovely green and sunny enclosure in the Arbor Wilds, birds singing overhead. 

We approach the Altar of Mythal along with the companions, and see the holy place before us. Central upon it is a female statue like those we saw at the Temple, a woman's body (very reminiscent of the Nike of Samothrace), armless, regal and beautiful, with wings outstretched and the elegant yet alien, symbolic head of a dragon. The statue is encircled with pale white blossoms in a diagonal pattern like a sash around its torso, and these same flowers also encircle the crown of its head. It's interesting to point out that flowers (bright red this time) also adorn the dragon statues that flank Mythal on either side in patterns that mimic those on the Mythal figure—crowning and enveloping them peacefully.

Morrigan: 'Tis all that remains of the Great Altar.

She reads the inscription there.

Morrigan: We few who travel far, call to me, and I will come—without mercy, without fear.
Solas (if present): Cry havoc in the moonlight, let the fire of vengeance burn. The cause is clear. (pause) A very old invocation, perfectly translated.
Morrigan: Thank you.

The Companions depart at Morrigan's insistence, and Morrigan calls upon Mythal.

Morrigan: You know who I am. From high priest to high priest, I am the last to drink of sorrows. Come to us, Mythal, whatever you are, whatever remains, I invoke your name and your power.

First off, if Patrick Weekes wrote this dialogue for Solas, his love of Shakespeare is showing once again, delightfully, as this echoes the immortal line from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar: "Cry 'Havoc!', and let slip the dogs of war!" I also love that Solas compliments Morrigan's translation; it's a sly moment of actual respect for her efforts in elven scholarship and is, alas, a moment that shall not come again.

After Morrigan's invocation, there's a gorgeous shot of the sunlight through the leaves above, and then, through a lovely rush of smoke and whispers, Flemeth appears, looking fabulous as always with her hair horns.

Morrigan: Mother.
Inquisitor (hilariously): Mother?

To which Flemeth merely says, in Kate Mulgrew's rich and unmistakable purr, "Now, isn't this a surprise?"

A formula for tragedy: Morrigan watches in curiosity and almost longing, as
Flemeth's face is smiling and almost kind here, alert and interested
in how the Inquisitor will respond.

"Once, I was but a woman..."

Hi, Mom! Yep, much to Morrigan's dismay, Flemeth's back, and with, well, a surprising lack of vengeance. And look... all kidding aside, Flemeth by Morrigan's own account made her childhood a hell, she raised her in a wilderness of unlove, fear, and virulent magic (with men openly used and sacrificed visibly before her), and then set her on a mission to rather brutally auction up her own body in order to gain the power her mother insisted upon. And that's before she began to fear that her mother's ultimate goal was possession of her own body as a new vessel.

In other words, I give Morrigan a lot of slack here, as well as back in DAO. While I love Flemeth, there's no question that Flemeth was, at worst, abusive, and, at best, staggeringly callous and tone-deaf with her lovely dark-haired daughter.

The Inquisitor has a variety of options for response here but in answer to most, Morrigan loses her temper, and Flemeth restrains her effortlessly (or, if the Inquisitor drank from the Well, the Inquisitor does so on her behalf).

Morrigan: She is a deceiving witch!
Flemeth: Now, now, that's quite enough of that.
Morrigan: What have you done to me?
Flemeth: I have done nothing. You drank from the well of your own volition.
Morrigan: Then you... are Mythal?

The Inquisitor simply looks more curious than angry, and while Morrigan stews, can be either boastful and antagonistic or respectful. I always choose 'respectful' because I am a Flemeth fangirl but to each our own.

Flemeth: You see, girl? Those are manners, as you require a demonstration.
Morrigan: I do not understand. How can you be Mythal?

And here we are, at the monologue that, for me, is the core of who Flemeth is... and of who Mythal was, gloriously delivered by Mulgrew as if its poetry is what she has been waiting to declaim since Thedas was born: 

Flemeth: Once I was but a woman... crying out in the lonely darkness for justice. And she came to me, a wisp of an ancient being, and she granted me all I wanted and more. I have carried Mythal through the ages ever since, seeking the justice denied to her.

The Goddess and the Witch

This is, irrevocably, part of why I love Flemeth. She dies yet lives. She smiles yet burns with vengeance. She is capable of both kindness and cruelty. She does not always keep heroes from falling, but instead reminds them that sometimes, a brutal fall, whether literal or figurative, is all that reminds us of the great things of which we are capable. Only by falling, as she notes in DA2, do we truly learn whether we can fly. It moved me then; it moves me still.

Most of all, as here, Flemeth acknowledges the wrongful imbalance of the world, right here and now: Once, I was but a woman... and then we find out how it all went down. But I'm still stuck on the idea that, gloriously... a woman wronged cried out... and the spirit of a wronged woman answered. Call me a feminist or a social justice warrior and I will simply smile and wear both labels with pride.

Because those aspects cannot be ignored or cast aside. This, this, this is the heart of who Flemeth is. This is the heart of who Mythal was. Their combination should scare anyone, man or woman, who seeks injustice against the weak.

The Goddess Speaks

Flemeth continues, so I'll quote that conversation going forward here. And please note—for expediency, I'll explore most main conversational choices as if taken, and will also include as much of the most important dialogue as I can. I know that doing so lengthens these blog posts, but I look at each of these as chapters, in many ways, and I also know how frustrating it is, firsthand, not to be able to reference and quote important dialogue from the games. While the Wiki and its value and importance cannot be overstated, it doesn't include much beyond the companion banters, so I feel like transcribing these moments is also a useful service to do for fans wherever I can, as well.

So here we go!

Flemeth: She is a part of me. No more separate than your heart from your chest. You hear the voices of the Well, girl. What do they say?
Morrigan: They... say you speak the truth.
Flemeth: But what was Mythal? A legend given name and called a god, or something more? Truth is not the end but a beginning.

She approaches the two of them, Morrigan watching in curiosity and almost longing. Flemeth's face is smiling and almost kind here, alert and interested in how they'll respond.

Flemeth: A herald, indeed. Shouting to the heavens, harbinger of a new age. As for me, I have had many names. But you... may call me Flemeth.
Inquisitor: Then you're Mythal as well as Morrigan's mother?
Morrigan: As well as a witch who prolongs her unnatural life by possessing the bodies of her daughters.
Flemeth: That's what you believe, is it?
Morrigan: I found your Grimoire, and I am no fool, old woman.
Flemeth: (chuckling) If only that were so. (to Inquisitor) My daughter ran from me long ago. I've let her be... until now, it seems.
Inquisitor: If Mythal is within you, why not reveal yourself?
Flemeth: And to whom should I reveal myself?
Inquisitor: To the elves, to everyone.
Flemeth: I knew the hearts of men even before Mythal came to me. It is why she came to me. They do not want the truth, and I... I am but a shadow, lingering in the sun.
Inquisitor: Why did Mythal come to you?
Flemeth: For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens.
Morrigan: And you follow her whims? Do you even know what she truly is?
Flemeth: You seek to preserve the powers that were, but to what end? It is because I taught you, girl, because things happened that were never meant to happen. She was betrayed, as I was betrayed—as the world was betrayed! 

There's a beautiful and very cinematic moment here (and kudos to director Mike Laidlaw) as the camera pans up above and pulls back slightly from Flemeth in her rage and fury.

Flemeth: Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!

We zoom in close on the Mythal statue's dragon head, crowned softly with flowers that tremble in the breeze, and Flemeth looks intently at it, then grows sorrowful again. 

Flemeth: Alas. So long as the music plays, we dance.
Inquisitor: I know the name Flemeth. It belongs to an ancient Fereldan legend. It says, long ago, you left your husband for a lover. Your husband then tricked you, killed your lover, and imprisoned you. Then a spirit came to offer you vengeance—Mythal—that's what you spoke of.
Flemeth: One day, someone will summarize the terrible events of your life so quickly. Hm. But yes, I was that woman. That is how my tale began.
Inquisitor: Flemeth appears in other legends, helping heroes for reasons of her own.
Flemeth: I nudge history, when it's required. Other times, a shove is needed. (she chuckles.)
Inquisitor (Varying responses, but basically): We need your help.
Flemeth: Against the magister who grasps beyond his reach. Yes, I know. The voices did not lie. I can help you.

Holding out a hand glowing with magic, Flemeth communicates the knowledge, which is (depending on choices) either of how Morrigan can shapeshift or of how the Inquisitor can master the dragon and it will come to them for the final battle. 

Morrigan (alternatively, if she drank): The voices came from you?
Flemeth: The price of the well seemed no dire thing when you saw so much gain, hmm?The voices did not lie, Morrigan. I can help you fight Corypheus.

She reaches her hand to Morrigan's head, and the magic glows golden. It is not aggressive, however, but almost gentle, and Morrigan stands still, then slowly opens her eyes. 

Flemeth: Do you understand, child?
Morrigan: Yes... I think I do.

Flemeth turn and walks away, back down the steps and into the wild grasses. Morrigan calls after her. 

Morrigan: Wait!
Flemeth (smiling):I wished to see who drank from the Well of sorrows. It has been a very long time.  (If Inquisitor) And now I have, and he is free to go. (If Morrigan) Imagine my surprise to discover... it was you.
Morrigan (If she drank from the Well): And that is all? Or (Non-Well): But what of us? (sadly)
Flemeth (after a significant pause and smile): A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in danger from me.

She walks back off into the billow of magical smoke and vanishes.

Variations on a Scene

What's interesting about this variation on the scene is that the psychology of Morrigan is visibly and beautifully different from that of Morrigan the mother willing to protect Kieran at all costs (which I'll be exploring separately, later). Here, she is quieter, more openly vulnerable and emotional. Claudia Black plays many of Morrigan's reactions here as almost hesitant, truly cowed by the realizations she has come to.

Flemeth, meanwhile, is kinder and quieter, too. There's less of that feeling that she's toying with Morrigan (as she very openly does in the Fade, seeming just a little to enjoy the fear Morrigan has for Kieran). Instead, she's more centered, more smiling, and is almost gentle with Morrigan.

It's interesting that there are a few key differences here. Morrigan calls the Inquisitor a "harbinger" rather than a messenger of a new age, but this may be due to Inquisitor choices relating to their belief in the Maker. If there's no Kieran, she's gentler, quieter, less sure. And interestingly enough, if she didn't drink from the Well, the confrontation is actually more angry and antagonistic, less gentle. In my interpretation, there's a chance at communion that is lost in that scenario, and it's kind of tragic—Flemeth cannot instantly translate understanding to Morrigan through benign magic, so instead, Morrigan is angry, still vengeful, and Flemeth is still wary and betrayed.

It's interesting that, here, we find that the best and sweetest story scenario is actually the one in which Morrigan drank from the Well. Not because she loses empowerment, but simply because she is given a sense of communion with her mother that she will not gain in any other way. It is, in many ways, an unexpected gift. Morrigan is linked to the woman she feared, the woman she knows, and instead of terror finds... gentleness. Assurance. Perhaps even love. And the quiet she'd perhaps wanted between them both.

It's a new and creative ending to the fairytale of the orphan in the forest, the fable of the daughter of the Witch of the Wilds. A moment... well, of grace.

Of all the possible scenarios with Morrigan in DAI, I admit that I prefer the ones with Kieran... they're richer, darker, and more moving. But I also loved discovering the childlike side of Morrigan here, and the more open portrayal of her potential for connection and understanding with her long-estranged mother. Every child seeks understanding; Flemeth's willingness to provide it here is an unexpected gift, and one I feel that Morrigan both deserves and which will profit her in the days to come.

Meanwhile, I'll explore the moment with Mythal, Morrigan and Kieran in a separate post, Part 2, to come!