Meet the Evanuris: The Mysteries of Mythal the Great Protector

One symbol is associated with Mythal above all others: that 
of the dragon itself.

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

MERRILL: It's never wise to ignore Mythal.

SPOILERS as always, for all of Dragon Age!

I've recently been taking a closer look at the Evanuris, both in the accepted mythology of the Dalish, as well as in the more potentially realistic (and disturbing) revelations of Dragon Age: Inquisition and its DLC "Trespasser."

For me, any discussion or analysis of the Evanuris must begin with Mythal, whose very symbol—the dragon—is a source of fear and wonder, and which stands for the age in which most of our story now takes place.

The Dalish Myth

The benevolent protector of the elves who was born of the sea (the tears of the wounded Earth), Mythal, the All-Mother and Great Protector, was seen by the Dalish as the mother of the gods, the dispenser of justice and love, and the partner of Elgar'nan. Mythal brought peace, and saw into hearts and minds in order to dispense true justice, sorting the wheat from the chaff, the true from the false.

Although Elgar'nan defeated the Sun (his father), Mythal persuaded him to allow it to return, and created the Moon (that most feminine of celestial objects) to reflect his light.

What's interesting is that even though Elgar'nan is the nominal leader of the Evanuris, he's by all accounts, even in myth, pretty terrible at it. He starts out as judge, but this quickly becomes a disaster as his inability to control his temper means that he is incapable of rendering calm, cool justice. All his reactions seem to start at rage (I keep picturing Elgar'nan 'hulking' out on a constant basis). Eventually, it appears to me that even among the Dalish myths, Elgar'nan quickly passed the mantle of actual rulership to his mate, Mythal. I mean, he was still the ruler in name, he just didn't seem to want to do the work.

With Mythal, the people could call for justice, she would listen and judge, seeing into hearts and minds, and only then would she take her judgments to Elgar'nan—which he would then dispense according to her verdicts. Until it all went wrong, and she ended either in death or imprisonment.

Among the Dalish, Mythal is assumed to have been either killed by Fen'Harel or exiled with the others due to his treachery.

As the archetypical mother-goddess, Mythal is inherently
associated with powerful symbols of the feminine divine.

The Facts


Evidently, the myths were true in their deepest sense: Among her fierce companions in the Evanuris, Mythal was evidently the kindest and most just, the one offering protection to her people and who constantly attempted to make and keep the peace among her arrogant and constantly warring companions.

Mythal's most famous achievements were almost always those of peacekeeping. She averted a war between Falon'Din and Elgar'nan at one point, and also brought down Falon'Din (with the rest of the gods behind her) when he began to pursue war simply for even more blood and death in which to revel. Mythal also defeated Andruil after her disastrous trip to the Void (a moment that may have had lasting effects upon all of Thedas, possibly bringing the Blight) and is even reported to have defeated at least a Titan or two, although the information we get on that is both sketchy and decidedly hazy.

Mythal and the Titans

When it comes to Mythal's deeds in the very deeps of the world, I'm interested in her ties to the Titans because I feel like there's something very obviously changed or missing there. Mythal is historically not a conquerer, even if her story is framed that way here, but then again, it also sounds an awful lot like more of the propaganda the Evanuris were so good at disseminating about those who fought them. The kind of propaganda that turned a freer of slaves, for instance, into a Dread Wolf of nightmares and cautionary tales.

As far as Mythal, I just don't think she'd head down and conquer beings as vast as the Titans simply to expand the lands of the People or to amass power, since Mythal doesn't seem to be all that interested in power for power's sake.

So, why, then?

Mythal's all about the big picture. Actually, make that Big Picture. She's the one, above everyone else in the trilogy, that I feel is looking out for the world as a whole. She may be cruel at times, but it overwhelmingly appears, for the most part, that this is out of necessity (after all, Mythal is pretty forgiving and non-judgmental even if the Warden and Morrigan go so far as to kill her in DAO!). So as far as the Titans and her conquering one or more of them, my feeling is that it has to be for reasons beyond expansion or greed for lyrium; that instead, she does this because Thedas needs her to. I even wonder if she was responsible for burying all access to the conquered Titan, as a later Codex implies—if it was Blighted, she may have been trying to forestall the entry of the Taint into the world (or simply access to the Blighted (red) lyrium, a separate if parallel deadly poison).

Alternatively, Mythal may have known that the elves would need this power in the future. I'll expand on this in a full later post that will simply address the ties between Mythal, the Titans, the dwarves, the Wardens, Lyrium... and the Blight.

Signs and Symbolism

As the archetypical mother-goddess, Mythal is inherently feminine, and is associated with unshakably feminine symbols, from her birth from the sea, to her creation of the Moon itself.

It is also widely speculated that the constellation Silentir may in fact represent a dragon figure (and Mythal). While some (many) have associated the constellation with the Old God Dumat over the ages, it's worth noting that the elven gods factually predate the Old Gods by millennia—in other words, Mythal came first, but as with so many elven signs and symbols in Thedas, she was once again supplanted, mercilessly, and her origins obscured once again with those preferred by the human Tevinter conquerers.

With its quietly alien dragon face atop the body of a naked female figure, the
winged statue of Mythal that we find frequently across her Temple area in
 the Arbor Wilds is both beautiful and forbidding.

One symbol, of course, is associated with Mythal above all others: that of the dragon itself, and statues and images of dragons appear frequently around her temples and sacred spaces, both in graceful full dragon form (with massive serene, almost mournful figures depicted, heads lowered in either grief or acceptance), and in a woman-dragon form consisting of a womanly figure with dragon wings and a pointed dragon head. The woman-dragon figures are especially striking, because they beautifully reflect the duality of Mythal and Flemeth—the goddess and the witch, the woman and the dragon.

The figures also evoke, for me, a strong visual echo of the Nike of Samothrace (my favorite real-world sculpture, and—true story—when I saw it in person at the Louvre, I burst into tears. Someday I plan to steal it in a nonviolent, high-stakes crime caper and to then put it in my living room, where I will sit and gaze adoringly at it until my inevitable arrest by, of course, the French detective with whom I will be having a doomed but passionate affair). 

Where was I? Oh, right—dragons!

Appropriately, Flemeth (who carries the wisp of Mythal's spirit and awareness within her) is also able to shapechange into the form of a high dragon at will. There are also more subtle parallels—when Mythal confronts Andruil (who has gone mad after her trip to the Void), she fights her in the shape of a giant serpent (which is, once again, a frequent synonym for 'dragon' in high fantasy).

But the dragon isn't just Mythal's symbol. It is a sacred creature, a sacred form, and not only does it look like it may have been a shapeshift all of the Evanuris were capable of accomplishing, but it was also evidently an act of sacrilege for others to attempt.

Retribution and Judgment

Flemeth may be vengeful against those who wronged her so long ago, but she's not, as I mentioned, terribly judgmental in actual temperament. Going back a few millennia, however, it appears that Mythal did indeed have her moments. Based on the Ancient Elven Writing Codex from the Arbor Wilds, Mythal could be fierce in her judgment and retribution against those who took the sacred dragon form, as here:

"His crime is high treason. He took on a form reserved for the gods and their chosen, and dared to fly in the shape of the divine. The sinner belongs to Dirthamen; he claims he took wings at the urging of Ghilan'nain, and begs protection from Mythal. She does not show him favor, and will let Elgar'nan judge him."

For one moment there is an image of a shifting, shadowy mass with blazing eyes, whose form may be one or many. Then it fades.

Even before we get the revelation that she's a living vessel for the spirit of
Mythal, it was always apparent that Flemeth was watching Thedas from a
much larger point of view than anyone else.

So let's look at this fascinating little tidbit: It's directly telling us some really exciting things: That shapeshifting to dragon form is a talent reserved only for the gods themselves. This could mean that all of the Evanuris were capable of the dragon shape-shift, or that (from Mythal's angry reaction and denial of protection), that it's specifically left to Mythal alone. It's not really clear, but would be a wonderful tie right back to Flemeth, and if Morrigan drinks from the Well and becomes  a servant of Mythal, she is then able to shapeshift into a dragon for the final battle, just as her mother once did.

However, the idea that the Evanuris are ALL able to shapeshift into dragon form also adds weight to the frequent argument of some that the Old Gods in dragon form are actually simply the trapped or cursed forms of the Evanuris, themselves, with each (Dumat, Lusacan, Razikale, Toth, Andoral, Zazikel, and Urthemiel) corresponding directly to an elven god or goddess. Of course, this also lends both motive and urgency to why Flemeth (Mythal) is so set on preserving the Old-God souls through the Dark Ritual.

Which would actually be very character-appropriate, if that's the case—that Mythal wished to see the Evanuris punished, but not killed, and that she would still seek to preserve their ancient souls.

It doesn't quite work for me, but it's a cool idea. I still believe the Evanuris are, rather, together and imprisoned somewhere high in the Fade, even as the Forgotten Ones were banished to the abyss... trapped by Solas in the greatest act of retribution the world had ever seen.

Choosing Sides

Let's look back again at that Codex quoted above. It's also implied, at least, according to the defendant, that Ghilan'nain goaded the 'sinner' into the transgression (which fits in perfectly with my perception that Andruil and Ghilan'nain her lover were actively opposed to Mythal). The criminal 'belonging' to Dirthamen can also be interpreted in many different ways, since this may imply that they were a follower of Dirthamen, or may even have been captured by Dirthamen. Some even speculate that the sinner was Dirthamen himself, but I don't get that at all here. "Belonging" to Dirthamen seems far different than "being" Dirthamen, after all.

Then Elgar'nan's judgment there seems to curse the sinner into darkness (into the Void?), possibly transforming them into a monstrous dark form, or perhaps we are simply seeing one of the Forgotten Ones (the enemies of the Evanuris) shifting back into his true form as he is obliterated?

See how each little note or Codex seems to lead to a thousand more questions? It's all so rich and fascinating, but so difficult to pare down! (Right now, even as I write this, I have 18 tabs open on my browser, to different Codices, Wiki entries, elven language translations, and interviews with David Gaider and Patrick Weekes.

Not that I'm complaining. Mythal is an amazingly rich character. But after writing this single post, I'm really thinking we need a whole novel about her! (Hey, I'll do it if nobody else will!)

Sacred Places and Associations

Places sacred to Mythal include an Altar to Mythal in Sundermount, outside
Kirkwall. It's a nice spot—certainly more restful than anywhere else in the area!

Places sacred to Mythal include an Altar to Mythal in Sundermount, outside of Kirkwall, as well as the Temple of Mythal (still guarded by the ancient Sentinel Elves) in the Arbor Wilds (also the location of a second Altar to Mythal nearby, as well as the home of the fire elemental high dragon that is the Guardian of Mythal). There are also statues of Mythal in the Tomb of Fairel and a disquieting, corrupted version in the Tomb of the Emerald Knights.

And let's not forget the Well of Sorrows. Last, but certainly not least, the Well of Sorrows is a pool at the Temple of Mythal where, as Abelas reveals to the Inquisitor and Morrigan and their party, each servant of Mythal passed along his or her knowledge. This was done near the end of each servant's lifespan, for uncounted years, resulting in the Well. It's a deeply tempting object for those seeking knowledge, offering a wealth of information about the ancient elves and days, and yet, with a heavy price, as the drinker from the Well will be bound to serve Mythal without choice or consent going forward for all eternity.

The Well is one of my favorite locations in DAI, as well as posing one of my favorite conundrums. To drink, or not to drink? For my first several playthroughs, I simply could not let my Inquisitors drink. It just felt abhorrent to me to willingly surrender their free will to Mythal (even if I adore Flemeth so much I'd basically fall at her feet if I ever met her).

Then, however, I let an Inquisitor drink from the Well... and it's AMAZING. The benefits are immediately real and tangible. You're able to see and hear things nobody else can see or hear; you can translate things nobody else can translate. You even get some fascinating further translations on the Evanuris and (most disquieting of all) get a tantalizing hint that there may in fact be a link between Mythal and the Calling (but more on that in a separate post).

Best of all, if you drink from the Well, you don't even have to fight the Sentinel Spirits in "Trespasser" (and they're pretty tough), cutting down your fighting time in the DLC by almost half. Nowadays, wherever character-appropriate, I almost always drink from the Well—it's too wonderful not to (and let's face it—no scholar or librarian would ever judge me).

Yep. My Inquisitors are now forever enslaved. Yay! All hail Mythal!

All in the Family

One little detail that I found interesting in the Temple of Mythal is that, in her golden mosaic portrait there, Mythal is depicted as a heavy-breasted, fertile female maternal figure with a radiant glowing halo, and whose arms embrace five little figures, for all the world like chicks in a nest. To me, this is clearly an image of a goddess holding her children, which would suggest to me as I noted in my previous post that, despite conflicting reports, in addition to twins Falon'Din and Dirthamen, as well as Andruil and Sylaise, that the mysterious June was in fact a child of Mythal's and not the husband of Sylaise.

So this means it's truly a family, made up of Mythal, hubby Elgar'nan, and their five children: Falon'Din, Dirthamen, Andruil, June, and Sylaise. As well as the non-familial gods Ghilan'nain, who was raised to godhood from mortality, perhaps as the lover and mate of Andruil, and the mysterious Fen'Harel, who, as I've noted, I believe was originally a spirit and Mythal's closest friend, and who came through at her plea for him to lend her aid when she had no one else to turn to.

To me, this potential family connection is vital to the big picture of the schism within the Evanuris that was to come, because if they're all related (with Ghilan'nain the beloved of Andruil and Fen'Harel closely connected to Mythal, almost as her spirit son made flesh), this adds to both the tragedy of their internal war to come, as well as to the devastating effect it would have had on Mythal. Because, if it's true, this means that Mythal wasn't just betrayed by her arrogant and anger-prone husband, she was murdered by the people she loved and trusted most—her husband and their children, who conspired together to end her life.

Mythal's Fate

Mythal was murdered by the other "gods" and her temple destroyed (and to me, it's certainly heavily implied from Flemeth's tale that Elgar'nan, Mythal's husband, was key in that betrayal, just as Flemeth's husband once betrayed and sought to destroy her). Speculations abound, and I'll be delving into Mythal's murder more deeply in the future, but for now here's what I think, in a nutshell:

I think for many ages (millennia upon millennia to us mortals), that there was peace and joy among the immortal Evanuris, who delighted in their gifts and talents, who loved one another, and who explored the world with passion and curiosity, each finding his or her own joys, pursuits and obsessions. As mother of her eternal and fiery children, Mythal was the judge and justice-keeper, as we know, and she did not hesitate to discipline them when they transgressed.

But I think, for many years, overall, they were happy. I suspect that problems only began to arise out of sheer boredom; beings that live for thousands of years are naturally going to seek out different experiences, and I think that was a major factor here among the Evanuris. A mortal lifetime is a fragile thing of wonder and transitory beauty. But it's all too easy for me to imagine immortal beings who grew restless as the centuries and millennia passed.

Ennui and Despair

These were, as I've noted elsewhere, prickly, passionate and highly emotional beings. Such attributes do not point to a peaceful, ripple-free existence, especially among beings whose powers were literally godlike. I think to address that potential boredom and that sense of ennui, that they would have become seekers of ever-new and unique experiences, prizing the new and unexpected eventually above all other experiences. It's pretty easy to see the ancient elves (and the Evanuris most of all) therefore being, I would imagine, pretty flexible about such matters as sexual orientation and gender identification, even simply in a spirit of experimentation.

The boredom of the Evanuris appears to me to have been in large part due to a rather myopic point of view. They were bored with the world because for them the world was an extension of themselves. People were uninteresting and only useful as potential tools, slaves, or playthings. There is no sense that they delighted in watching the progress of their world or civilization in any kind of higher sense. Just that ever-deepening sense of egotism and arrogance.

This is where I think the evil crept in—the evil of arrogance and boredom, of hubris and vanity. The Evanuris were the saviors of their people, raised on high, and mightier than any who dared to challenge them. They began to believe their own stories, began to assume they deserved more, and slowly they descended into decadence and war, into ridiculous challenges and monuments simply for the momentary thrill of the experiences.

This is when I think Mythal called Fen'Harel into the flesh, and I think not only did he emerge to support and strengthen her, but that he may have forestalled any tensions for many years. Bright and beautiful, and offering an almost limitless knowledge thanks to millennia in the Fade, it's not difficult to imagine that Solas would have enthralled his fellow Evanuris, and that he would have been able to help Mythal maintain peace, at least for awhile.

Until the decadence became darkness. Until the Evanuris began to seek death and war for the sheer pleasure of watching the sacrifice—until they began to enslave and hunt their own people, until they began to scheme and vie for power among themselves, to hunt the darkest depths of the Void, to senselessly destroy the Titans, to (just perhaps) assail the forbidden places high and low for the delight of cruelty and pestilence. 

Here's when I think Solas and Mythal mounted their last, doomed effort to try to protect the People from their fellow "gods." Solas went full-on rogue, freeing the slaves and rallying the people to cast off their chains and fight tyranny. Mythal, perhaps too trusting or unwilling to abandon her family, I think kept up the fight, but from within, not without.

And then they killed her.

Echoes of Past and Future

In retribution for this act, as Mythal's closest companion and friend, Fen'Harel took vengeance upon Mythal by banishing the Evanuris and erecting the Veil. Yet, even millennia later, as Flemeth admits, her spirit still cries out for vengeance.

The past is the future is the past. Solas once mourned for the loss of Mythal
and avenged her murder by separating reality and Fade. I believe he painted
this both in tribute to the past and as penance for the future to come.

Remember that unfinished fresco in Solas's Rotunda? I've been thinking more about it. What if it's not just Solas's regretful foreshadowing of the event to come (in which he must take Flemeth's life-force, given willingly to empower him to save their people), but a flashback to Solas's discovery of Flemeth's murder? The Dread Wolf faces the body of the murdered dragon, the blade still standing in the dragon's bloody back. The wolf's head is bowed in grief. 

The revelation that this could be both a flashback and a flash-forward is one of my favorite little details in the entire story of Dragon Age. And I think it is.

A Wisp of an Ancient Being

Mythal's fate is a tragic one, and it's no less tragic because she was able to find a small scrap of continued life when she joined her wisp to the consciousness of Flemeth. Within the Dragon Age universe, wisps are generally evidently limited in presence and awareness.

The wisp of Mythal that Flemeth carries, however, seems to be something different—something more complex, a consciousness that not only joined symbiotically with Flemeth's, but which also enhanced her powers and awareness, allowed her to maintain an independent persona, and yet which made her something more, something greater. 

Someone greater. Someone who watched over the world, and gave it a nudge now and then. Someone who helped us against the Blight in DAO, and who then donned her fantastic armor and Hair Horns and outfitted herself from that point on for the wars to come (and kudos to Matt Rhodes and the rest of the Dragon Age creative team for the wonderful redesign of Flemeth's character in Dragon Age II—the Hair Horns! The fabulous armor!).

The wisp of Mythal that Flemeth carries seems to be unique among wisp
essences—something sentient and genuinely complex.

Flemeth's account of the experience is one of my favorite pieces of writing in Dragon Age: Inquisition—a poetic account of rage, powerlessness, vengeance, and ascension, and I transcribed it in near-entirety in this post here. 

The important thing is that Flemeth's anger echoes back and overlays nicely with Mythal's own thirst for vengeance. The most important aspect here is that, however much Mythal was once a peacemaker, and however much Flemeth may quietly and benignly (or not-so-benignly) "nudge" the events of the world with her powers and awareness, the rage is also ever-present, simmering beneath the surface. Solas isn't the only one who couldn't get over Mythal's murder and betrayal. The one who felt it even more deeply was, of course (and quite understandably) Mythal herself:

Flemeth: She was betrayed, as I was betrayed—as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!

The important thing here isn't just Flemeth's anger (and the anger of Mythal that she's channeling here), but that she calls the betrayal of Mythal a betrayal of the world itself. This is a major clue, right? That Mythal is speaking for the world itself?

Watching Over the World

Flemeth's words there remind me a little of Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings, actually—when he confronts Denethor in The Return of the King and reminds him, "For I also am a steward. Did you not know?" 

Perhaps Mythal is, in some strange way... a steward herself. A protector of Thedas—not just of its old ways or Old Gods, but of its roots and mountains, its peoples and lives. I think she might be. And if she is, she must make decisions that others will find cruel, doing so as she does from an impartial and difficult vantage point. As with her decision to save the Warden and Alistair while dooming Cailan and Duncan, among many other transitory and difficult judgments. But the love, nevertheless, is always there.

The irony is, this care, this real fascination with and attention to the world at large is why I also believe Mythal was never prey to the boredom and corruption of her peers among the Evanuris. She wasn't focused inward, but outward. She didn't want to find the world within herself, but to explore and celebrate its beauty where it lay. You never get the sense, in hearing or reading about Mythal, or in talking to Flemeth, that she finds people anything less than fascinating and worth loving. She delights in being alive, both as a sensual being, and in her place as a part of something larger than herself, in serving as a vivid thread in a massive tapestry. 

This sense of herself as serving something bigger, however, also, I believe, contributed to Flemeth's abuse of Morrigan. Flemeth, in seeing through the eyes of Mythal, was too focused outward to be a good mother to her child. She was too busy mothering Thedas, or rather—its fate.

It's always how I've seen Flemeth—that via Mythal she answers to a higher allegiance. One that is not always kind.

The Dragon and the Wolf

Ultimately, Mythal's goals may be somewhat aligned with Solas's, but I don't believe they are the same. I believe Mythal cares deeply for Solas and sympathizes with his cause—after all, that final scene between the two of them is fraught with real, palpable affection and deep love. Mythal may even feel some slight (or not so slight) sense of guilt—after all, the elven people were inadvertently doomed because Solas sought to avenge her.

However, I also think she sees farther and aims higher than that. I think she'll help him, to a degree (as when she willingly gives him her power at the end of DAI).

But I think ultimately if it comes down to it, she will act against Solas if he truly threatens Thedas. And while I'd hate to see these two who love each other forced into a battle that could only be tragic for both of them, I also admit... the Dread Wolf versus the Dragon? Man, that's a boss battle I'd pay all kinds of money to see.

Hints from the Dialogue

Flemeth's dialogue snippets through the trilogy are both illuminating and genuinely exciting, thanks in no small part to the unmistakable performance of Flemeth's talented longtime voice actress Kate Mulgrew, whose deep, purring and instantly distinctive drawl imbues Flemeth with a real sense of dignity and knowledge that is also tempered constantly by sorrow, love, amusement, and even rage. Thanks to Mulgrew, Flemeth may hiss with malevolence in one moment, chuckle at the ironies of the world seconds later... and then cry out in regret and sorrow the next. She's gloriously complex.

Is Flemeth (and through her, Mythal) a sort of steward
or caretaker looking out for Thedas? 

But what do Flemeth's words mean? How far is she willing to go? My take on Flemeth/Mythal is that there's a core, a foundation, of unshakable purity there. That she is, again, acting for a cause greater than herself. 

I don't think there's a single word spoken by Flemeth in Dragon Age that won't turn out to be incredibly important in some way. Here's a look at just a few of her more mysterious and fascinating pronouncements:

Dragon Age: Origins: "You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide, either way, one's a fool."

Dragon Age II: "Regret is something I know well. Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poisons your soul."

"We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment... and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."

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

"Truth is not the end, but a beginning."

These dialogue snippets are fascinating in every way. What's she really telling us? Is she warning us in a spirit of kindness or generosity? Or simply giving us an advance look at the irrevocable doom that hovers over Thedas's future?

Mythal better be back after this. She'll be fine. She just needs some more
time at the spa where she got her Hair Horns of Awesomeness, dammit!

We know from the legends that Mythal has taken extraordinary action before, going all the way back to the oldest days of the world, when she constantly battled her mate and her children from actions that might irreparably harm Thedas. I'll always like that she tried. And I admire that she disciplined them when their actions were terrible and impactful enough that they needed to be stopped from wreaking further havoc—that she held back Elgar'nan and Falon'Din, stopped Andruil and Ghilan'nain, that she appears to have tried to leave space for the other creatures of their world—elves, dwarves, Titans and who knows what else—to find their way. And then she died for it.

But here she still is, all these years later, death or no death. Goddess and witch, elf and mortal. Ancient and eternal, maiden and crone. Death or no death, loss or no loss, Mythal never gives up. She's the woman with a dragon's spirit, the person with the eye on the big picture of Thedas as a tapestry only she can read. Even in her final, fateful meeting with Solas, she is wise, prepared, accepting and sorrowful. She's still trying to nudge events the right way, to help Thedas find the light. Still dancing to a song that only she can hear.

Is that song really over, as Solas takes the power she offers, as she submits to at least the facsimile of death from the one being in all of Thedas who once loved, obeyed and tried to avenge her? Even as Solas gently and reverently lowers Flemeth's blackened corpse to the floor of the temple, is Mythal's story finally done? 

Or has Mythal's story and awareness simply been reborn, as occurred so long ago in ages past? After all, she calmly sent a wisp of herself into that eluvian before her final meeting with Fen'Harel, knowing he would appear and what would occur. Can we, from this, hope that Mythal (and hopefully still in her guise as Flemeth) will still return? Solas himself implies that death for Mythal, as "the First of his People," is not an easy matter. And what's death, after all, to an ancient goddess, but one more obstacle to be overcome?

After all, it is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly...

The Wounded Veil (May 2018 Map and Lore Update)

As you may remember, I wrote back in January about the status of the Veil as of the end of "Trespasser," and about my theory that for Solas's plan to eradicate the Veil to succeed, in actuality, all he really has to do is... wait.

In the latest version here, I have updated my original map to reflect additional key locations in Tevinter, the Anderfels, the Storm Coast, the Hissing Wastes, the Blackmarsh, the Lost Temple of Dirthamen, Seheron, and a few others that I missed the first time, and which some fantastic folks on Twitter were nice enough to point out. I also clearly marked every mage circle location specified across Thedas (note: with the exception of the one in Antiva that's never specified as far as city).

Mending the Veil

Beyond Solas's ancient elven artifacts (which I do believe will genuinely help to strengthen and ward the Veil), I did a bit more research and reading, and there is, however real evidence that it's possible to further heal at least some of the Veil tears we encounter across the story.

For instance, in Dragon Age: Origins, a demonically possessed Sophia Dryden can openly heal a major Veil tear right in front of our Warden at Soldier's Peak, in a bargain with the Warden for her freedom. In the "Awakening" DLC, meanwhile, several spirits and demons are presented as actively keeping or holding Veil tears open. The Warden-Commander can then repair those by killing the demons or spirits responsible.

In the Dragon Age II "Mark of the Assassin" DLC movie spinoff Dragon Age: Redemption (about the further adventures of an elven Ben-Hassrath named Tallis, played by Felicia Day), a Qunari Saarebas is able to tear the Veil by using an artifact of the Dalish known as the Mask of Fen'Harel. By destroying the mask, Tallis is able to close the impending rip in the Veil.

These instances seem to be rare, however. In one of the Codices for Dragon Age: Origins, First Enchanter Wenselus is quoted as saying "Once the Veil is torn, it is extremely difficult to mend, some say impossible."

Damage to the Veil

Still, I continue to believe the Veil is doomed... I even continue to wonder if that's why Solas hasn't acted at the end of Trespasser. As I've noted in my Character analyses on Solas and his romance, I do think he's conflicted, and I don't think he is truly prepared to tear down the Veil and doom the world, flawed as it is, that he's grown to care for (much less the people he loves within it).

And let's face it... if I'm right, he won't have to anyway. The Veil is shredded. And I suspect it's actually in far worse shape across Tevinter than I'm showing here, simply because I feel like we have so little information about it as a location in general. But their use of blood magic is rampant and goes back ages, and it's a triple-whammy in terms of thinning the Veil because of the (1) magic use, (2) blood magic, and (3) death and bloodshed.

One of the other things I want to add in this update is that I realized upon further research that the Mage Circles across both Orlais, Ferelden and Tevinter weren't just locations where the Veil went thin through magic use (and in many cases, bloodshed). They were in fact chosen, in almost every case, because they were places where the Veil was already thin. Which is interesting because that's certainly more dangerous for mages and increases the potential for Abomination.

In other words, it's evident that the need for power supercedes the risk of Abomination, and I suppose I can see that when a Blight comes calling—that it's thought to be worth that risk to increase magic potency and strength even if the danger to the lives of mages went up. But then again, that's the tragedy, isn't it? Historically, nobody really values the lives of mages. They're simply tools, weapons to be kept locked away until it's time to use them.

The important thing is, this means that we started with a thin spot for each and every Circle. For each of the most important cultural Tevinter locations where magic use was involved. For each key ancient elven location.

And then it just proceeded to get thinner. 

In other words, it's not looking good for our friends in Thedas—I'm guessing from what we're looking at here that the Veil has less than a millennia of life left to it. Maybe even just centuries. 

Or maybe it's already poised to go up in flames, a potential bonfire just a single match away from conflagration. 

Will Tevinter light that match? Or the Qunari? I still don't think it will be Solas.

Meanwhile, what do you think? And did I miss anything else here? Are there any other factors I should include here? I'd look forward to your input, as always!

The Quiet Apostate: Romancing Solas in Dragon Age: Inquisition (Pt. 1)

Inquisitor: We are both of the same people, Solas.
Solas: The Dalish I met felt… differently... on the subject.

Perhaps the greatest irony to Solas's romance with the Inquisitor is how quietly
he enters the scene in the beginning of Dragon Age: Inquisition.

Massive SPOILERS across all of Dragon Age!

He's so easy to overlook, at first. A humbly dressed companion in homespun, a male elven mage apostate with no vallaslin—with no markings to note allegiance to clan or god. He is a rather curious figure—pale, bald, and thoughtful, neither old nor young, and with a precise and mellifluous voice and a slightly reserved, cool demeanor. He's not especially buff, loud, or commanding. He speaks softly. He's nobody—not really remarkable at first glance. At least not in any obvious kind of way. 

And he certainly isn't your typical heartthrob.

Meet Solas. And given the sheer emotional heights of his final scenes in both Dragon Age: Inquisition and particularly in the DLC "Trespasser," perhaps the greatest irony to Solas's romance with the Inquisitor is how quietly he enters the scene in the beginning.

And I love that. It's just so smart from a dramatic standpoint. Because, when we meet Solas, we barely get the chance to register him in all the tumult—we've been thrown into a world of war and terror that's raining green fire and demons, we're still intermittently begging Cassandra not to throw us back in chains, and we hastily meet Varric and Solas within minutes of battling our first demons and closing our first rift.

In other words, it's all chaos and mess. Everyone's a stranger. Our Inquisitor (whom I'll refer to in the Lavellan character choice since that's the only person who can romance Solas) is confused and scared and tired. Either way, meeting Solas doesn't look or feel all that noteworthy, not in the moment—not least because it's also overshadowed by the return of our wonderful DA2 friend Varric, who's chatty and warm and instantly willing to befriend. Solas is by comparison relatively easy to overlook. Besides, again, we're still traumatized and learning on the run. We exchange a few quiet words and introductions, and then we're fighting onward, through snow and blizzard, through demons and fire, through derision and distrust.

So it's understandable that many of us, we barely look over, especially in a first playthrough, at the quiet elven guy next to us.

And that's exactly what he wants.

The One You Least Suspect

I know plenty of fans keep looking longingly back to the disparate and richly varied race-gated introductions to Origins, but the introduction to DAI is so effective for me because it drops us into the action as an unknown, solitary protagonist who is whoever and whatever we create them to be—into a raw, violent yet beautiful world in which up is down and right is left. We start the story with no one—no family, no friends (we're not the Warden of DAO or the Hawke of DA2). We have no past beyond our near-death and resurrection as events begin. Nobody questions this, and it means a hellish introduction for our characters (especially our Lavellans) in the beginning, and we're further accorded scant support or empathy at first by those around us.

Surprisingly, Solas seems to empathize, however, and he even hints at his own isolation when we first speak on the way to the forward camp:

Solas: You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?

Inquisitor: (my take: OMG YES BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO AND WTF IS HAPPENING). Bioware version: What do you know of the Dalish?

Solas: I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.

Inquisitor (among other options): We are both of the same people, Solas. (Personal subtext: OMG I'M SO CONFUSED AND I REALLY NEED A FRIEND AND SUDDENLY I REALLY MISS MY CLAN)

Solas: The Dalish I met felt… differently on the subject

Inquisitor (in my mind): Sorry. Seriously. Also: Crap. Crap. Crap.

  

It's a foreshadowing of our later discovery, in which we learn later on that Solas's awakening (or, rather, his reentry into modern Thedas proper) was very similar in some ways to our own. In other words, our situation, perhaps, mirrors his.

In a romanced Lavellan, this parallel loneliness and isolation is something I find potentially really moving and fascinating. I believe it also contributes to a greater intensity in the relationship that develops between them, if that's the foundation, as well. They are lonely, cut off, yearning for connection they can never achieve. The parallels and implications are powerful, rich and startling.

On the Outskirts

But even as we are thrown center stage, whether we wish to be or not, Solas keeps to the edges. Even after we arrive at Haven, Solas just hangs out over by his modest village hut, far from the Chantry building or the center of camp. He's there if we want to seek him out (and they're some of the most beautiful and lyrical conversations of the story if we do), but otherwise, he's pretty much invisible until it comes time to heal the Breach. He's barely noticeable, off to the side. Someone to provide some unexpected conversation if we run off to the edges of the village to talk to him.

Again, it's perfect.

I mean, consider it: Our first meeting with Bull, when we encounter this larger-than-life figure carving his way through a swathe of bad guys in the midst of storm and thunder as the surf pounds beside him, it's downright mythic. Our first glimpse of Dorian is as beautiful and vivid as a fever dream in a shadowed future. Vivienne's entrance is all exquisite drama and masks and glitter and ice. Sera steps from the shadows like an arrow from the string; a spirit of vengeance against the abused weak and small.

So many others, too, we meet in these florid, vivid, highly emotional moments. So I just love the fact that we meet one of the most important characters in the entire story in this rather casual, offhand way. It is also, notably, one of the few times in the game that Solas is not alone.

Solas's romance is sneaky on every level. You start out talking to the quiet
pale bald guy for three minutes, then catching your breath and going, "Wait...
wait... WAIT. When did he get so hot?"

Taking Notice

But that's Dragon Age. Nothing is quite as simple as it appears to be. For instance, if you're me, you start out by thinking, "Well, obviously I'm romancing Cullen because he's so handsome that it's kind of difficult to even stare directly at him—it's like looking into an eclipse or something" (and don't even get me started on Dorian or Cassandra or Varric or Sera, either), but then you end up talking to the quiet pale bald guy for three minutes, then catching your breath and going, "Wait... wait... WAIT. When did he get so hot?"

Which just makes them seem even more realistic. For me, this first DAI playthrough, I ended up romancing Bull (who as I've already noted, I'd also found utterly unattractive at first, until I fell flat for him and realized how amazing he was, which was even better). I loved everything about it and have posted many, many walls of text about my reactions. Bull absolutely remains one of my favorite characters across Dragon Age.

Still... I'd never quite gotten over my surprise crush on Solas, and even before I'd gotten to that final, powerful meeting between Solas and Flemeth, I knew I was going to romance Solas in the next playthrough.

A Date with Gaming Destiny

And then, of course, as I've described previously here on the blog, I finished the game and then did a fair amount of shrieking—in delight, horror, and frustration at the Fen'Harel revelation as well as at what happened to my darling, adored Flemeth (who is OKAY, dammit, she's FINE, she simply needs another trip to the spa LA LA LA CAN'T HEAR YOU).

And, yeah, I've never restarted a game so fast in my life.

I was determined. My next playthrough would be my canon. I'd play a Dalish elf again, but a quieter one, and I'd romance Solas. I'd pay attention to every single conversation, and enjoy my relationship with my lonely, elegant, brilliant, pixellated crush of the moment.

I thought I knew everything, and that it would be fun. The best part of Solas's romance is, unless you romance him, you actually know very little. Because that's who he is; he doesn't show himself to just anyone. Even those he likes (or loves) as companions. So you have to romance him to really know him. And then, of course, it's too late. 

NOTE: Feel free to use this moment to cheerfully curse the genius of Solas writer Patrick Weekes (but please do so lovingly, because the poor guy does get a ton of flack simply for writing a character so complex and realistic that thousands of people fell in love with his character (NOT HIS FAULT), and to also add a hex on the tea-filled flask of our wonderful David Gaider, who (it turns out) came up with the entire diabolical idea of making Solas romanceable. Because he's a genius that way. And then Weekes was the perfect person to make that idea a reality.

In a horrible way. In a horrible, wonderful way.

Anyway. (PS, read Feeder. And then his Rogues trilogy. And everything. And don't miss Gaider's series of beautiful DA novels. Read. Them.)

The end result is that, like thousands of other unspoiled Solas-mancers, I had no idea what I was in for. No idea at all.

And then it happened.

Subverting the Formula

Thanks to Bioware, the romances in the Dragon Age trilogy are always as varied and unique as the characters and stories themselves. You can seduce Alistair in the first blush of adolescent love, find blazing, reckless  passion with Anders or Fenris, duel gallantly for Josie's honor, tease and dally with Isabela, heal Dorian's bruised heart, embark on a hot if slightly detached sexual adventure with Bull, you can kiss Cullen on the battlements (after you edge his silently adoring Jim out of the way, of course), or romance Cassandra with moonlight and poetry...

...All this, alongside a dozen other terrific and entertaining romantic choices across the game trilogy.

Each of these romances has been created with real thought, care, and attention to detail, with each further illuminating both the love interests as characters, and the protagonist you're playing for, as a hero with his or her own fears, flaws, and strengths. And they're all beautifully written, designed and brought to life. No romance exists in a vacuum in Dragon Age, and each further enhances our knowledge of the other characters as well as of our own protagonists and who we shape them to become.

For me, for sheer, lyrical complexity and emotion, the most entertaining,
immersive, and devastating of any romance across the trilogy... is Solas's.

But for me, for sheer, lyrical complexity and emotion, by far the most entertaining, immersive, and purely devastating of any romance across the trilogy... is Solas's.

Because, well... it gives us all things, in a storyline that's not just tied to the core story, it's braided to it, entrenched in it. 

With Solas, we get the many-sided fractal that is all the depth, connection, pain, love, fear, sensuality, loss and potential heartbreak of so many other Dragon Age romances in a single story if we romance him. His romance means love and loss, passion and high drama, sexual tension held to the very breaking point in conjunction with intense fear, conflict, belief, courage, and mutual depth of feeling. It's all romantic proclamations and doomed whispers; it's sorrowful glances and unexplained disconnect; it's all of this and more. It's love and connection in a world where magic still exists, and it feels private and pure until one of the most shocking moments in the game (if you're lucky enough to experience it, as I did, unspoiled).

And it's all weirdly perfect, because Solas himself is a paradox, a creature of extremes—someone who's both spirit and flesh, hot and cold, gentle and fierce, abstemious and yet deeply sensual. And, of course, he's ultimately both cruel and kind.

And cruel.

And kind.

The worst things he could possibly be at once. But we'll get to that one later on. For now, let's look at his introduction.

The Quiet Apostate

Solas is a wonderfully designed character (and kudos to the Bioware artists who did so) because his beauty, as with his secret identity, is hidden in plain sight.

For those who don't look closely, Solas is just this bald, pale elven mage of medium height who wanders around with us and who maybe gets a little lofty and condescending from time to time.

But for those who look closely, he's beautiful, unique, and unmistakable—a man in the prime of his life, slimly built, with a long nose and a distinctive, elegantly tapered jaw that both subtly echo his wolf-aspect, and with deep-set pale hazel eyes under straight, heavy auburn brows. His skin is pale and lightly freckled, and the portrait is completed with a beautifully shaped mouth and a cleft chin. His ears are also positioned, again, in this way that perfectly yet subtly evokes something of the wolf when Solas is viewed from straight-on. And of course he finishes the portrait with the ancient wolf jawbone he wears around his neck on a thin cord of leather. 

It's both clue and curse; it's who Solas was... and who he must always be.

In other words, it's awful. And it's gorgeous.

Ultimately, for me, in a visual sense, Solas is like one of those picture-puzzles you have to look away from, and then back, to see the hidden picture hiding beneath the picture. Once you do that, you'll suddenly see a collection of seemingly unrelated things turn into a wonderful image you never expected—a tree, a profile, a visage, et cetera, and this was also how I felt about recognizing Solas's handsomeness. And then you add Patrick Weekes's poetic and layered dialogue. Plus one of the most gorgeous and subtle voices in creation, with the voice contributions of talented Welsh actor Gareth David-Lloyd.

It's a pretty volatile combination. Especially for the unprepared.

To echo the old quote from Aristotle, let's just say, when it comes to lethal attractiveness, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. (And then you add ancient elven armor, maybe, and, um, fall out of your chair. Don't tell me I was the only one. Don't you dare.)

Anyway. Sorry. ONWARD.

Starting the Dialogue
There's a quiet subtext to Solas's earliest discussions that for me only becomes apparent upon replay or revisitation, which is primarily centered on his definitions of those he may or may not perceive as 'real.' This moment can be incredibly impactful based on what we know of Solas, what our relationship is with him in-story, and how open we have chosen to be with him.

For instance, in my own story experience... One minute, I was talking to Solas in Haven, making the rounds as I talked to all the companions, and we began to discuss the Dalish. The character I was building in my Dalish protagonist was proud of her heritage, and Solas followed up on his initial story on the way to the forward camp (in which he'd admitted that the Dalish had attacked and expelled him when he had tried to share his knowledge with them) by expressing further suspicion and contempt for the Dalish people:

Inquisitor: I’d be interested in hearing your opinions on elven culture.
Solas: I thought you’d be more interested in sharing your opinions of elven culture.

He pauses, pointedly.

Solas: You are Dalish, are you not?
Inquisitor (among several options): Yes, I am. The Dalish are the best hope for preserving the culture of our people.
Solas: “Our people.” You use that phrase so casually. It should mean more… but the Dalish have forgotten that. Among other things.
Inquisitor: Oh, but you know the truth, right?
Solas: While they pass on stories, mangling details, I walk the Fade. I have seen things they have not.

Dammit.

Suddenly, for a few minutes, I was as immersed in the game and moment as deeply as I can ever be captured by a book, a film, a piece of art. Suddenly, I was having an argument with a character in a video game who had also somehow managed to get under my skin and irritate me.

I then chose to have my character answer unexpectedly however—not with a counterattack, but with a plea for knowledge and understanding, and Solas's unexpectedly generous and thoughtful response remains one of my favorite story moments in the game:

Inquisitor: Ir abelas, Hahren. If the Dalish have done you a disservice, I would make that right. What course would you set for them that is better than what they know now?

Solas seems like he might continue in anger, then pauses, and in a lovely subtle performance note by voice actor Gareth David-Lloyd, he sighs.

Solas: You are right, of course. The fault is mine, for expecting what the Dalish could never truly accomplish. Ir abelas… da’len. If I can offer any understanding, you have but to ask.

Loss, Syntax and Ancient Sweeties

This is one of my favorite dialogue exchanges in the game. I especially love that Lavellan, instinctively, moves to use the formal elven here, falling back on her Dalish origins (but in a way he will share and respond to), to both apologize for the Dalish's treatment of him, and to ask, with respect, what she and they can learn from him. For me, it's a key, lovely moment, as is his use of elven to answer her in kind. It's incredibly important: It's Solas admitting, despite himself and his previous outbursts one intrinsic fact: That, yes, we are alike, you and I.

Then their potential romance truly begins. At least, for me. In terms of my own story and protagonist, it's the first moment at which I feel the two realize they are more alike than different, and I still support the curriculum enough to keep them in mind.

In addition, I'm always touched that he calls her da'len, or 'young one,' here, as well, in the formal response. It's less an expression of youthful inequality (although, of course, the disparity in their ages here is one of actual millennia) than one of, to me, addressing the forms. Responding within the ritual, as she has spoken to him.

In Solas's awareness, the most dangerous thing that can happen is exactly what
does... when he realizes the Inquisitor is more than a shadow or sacrifice.

My favorite aspect of this exchange is the sudden, complex and precipitous drop in tension. Solas is visibly surprised and moved by the Inquisitor's respectful plea for understanding. And then undone by the realization that, wait, this person is not an enemy. This person is listening to him. This. Person. And a dawning realization, appreciation, and terror, of that awareness surely accompanies this, right?

He's already on the precipice.

Because, for the first time, when Solas argues a point, when he expresses anger or frustration in this hostile and ugly, muffled new world in which he has found himself, someone else responds with love, acceptance and with a plea for better understanding. 

The only problem is, it's someone who's not supposed to intrude on his private circle of reality. They aren't supposed to do that. They aren't supposed to persuade. Or tempt. Or move him.

No. No. No.

In his world, the person who responds isn't real. They're a shadow, a shimmer, a ghost. Not real. Never that.

Except... now, this. The possibility. A sudden kinship, a flashing awareness, a connection.

And he is, after all, so lonely.

Solas is a passionate and intensely feeling man. I think, right here, if there's a romance brewing, it's here when he falls flat. And it's therefore that much more believable that here is when the walls simply come down. And when they do, he thinks of Felassan.

As he must. As he should. But more on that later.

The Romance at the Core

Meanwhile, ultimately, to me, Solas's romance is the best of all worlds, offering a little bit of everything, with the open sensuality of Bull's, the sweet, slight awkwardness and hesitance of Dorian's or Cullen's, the doomed passion of Anders, the hidden dramas, conflicts and guilts of Fenris or Blackwall's romances, and the sheer poetry and lyricism of Cassandra's or Alistair's.

However, what makes Solas's romance wholly unique and different from those of the other companions across the trilogy, for me, is that it's the only way we'll really get the complete portrait of Solas, of who he is at his most open and unguarded. This isn't the case with the other characters—if you have high friendship, approval (or even rivalry), even if you don't romance Bull, or Anders, or Alistair, or Leliana, or dozens of others, you'll still walk away knowing who they are, even if, depending on your choices, Bull's romance does provide an unexpected glimpse of both his capacity for tenderness (or ruthlessness, depending on your choices), just as Sera's illuminates her capacity for both playfulness and cruelty if you're playing an 'elfy' Dalish Inquisitor.

Hidden in the Heart

Nevertheless, there's not the disconnect with other companions that we get with Solas—we still get those glimmers of who we already know them to be, with or without the romance. 

But this isn't really the case with Solas, who's careful and reserved with every word, every glance, every touch.

With Solas, you have to reach out. Talk. Open up. There's no other way.

In other words, to know him, you have to be brave. Connect. There's no other way. Otherwise you never get past the barriers.

If we don't romance or befriend Solas, we'll never really know how complicated he truly is. We won't see him lose control, whether in a kiss he cannot bring himself to break, or in his anguish at the prejudicial and senseless death of a friend. Instead, he comes across as a much more distanced character. He remains self-contained, cold, dismissive, and predictable. The elven mage who thought he knew too much, and who needed no one.

Or so he thought.

Because distances can be bridged. Awarenesses can dawn. And love can awaken empathy, admiration, desire and understanding beyond imagining.

But I'll take a look at that in my next post on Solas's romance...

For those of you who romanced Solas... how soon did you look over and realize? Were you as slow as me, or did you notice him sooner?