#solasfic
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The Heretic: Chapter 1: The Trial
Artwork by @Sullydoodles
"A tattered journal is found within the walls of Skyhold, entrenched in secrecy that could shatter Inquisitor Moon'Hwa's life as she knows it and will test the trust of her advisors. This is no ordinary journal, the more it reveals the more Moon'Hwa discovers Solas's true nature and her role in it. Lost recollections surface into blinding Revelations. The Lavellen Clan is not what it seems. The Keeper guards a dark secret that will ultimately leave Moon'Hwa with a heartbreaking choice, for the good of Thedas. She has limited time to solve this mystery and regain what was lost, the inquisition pursues her and her mark threatens her life. A chain of events appears to be linked, as a wolf's shadow watches her every move. Moon'Hwa is left to fight the will of the gods, alone. The odds are against her. Will she prevail?"
Set 5 (estimate) years after Inquisition. our unlucky Inquisitor is put on trial for egregious crimes she has no memory of enacting, all based on a decrepit journal. Are these mere hollow accusations? Or could they possibly be true?
This is a Dark Solas fic and is NSFW. Please see the full warnings below the line.
Gore, Blood, Sex, Language, Torture, Poor Grammar, (Haha)
MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (You have been warned >:)
#just leave a comment fest#fanfic#fanfiction#ao3#darksolas#solavellan#solasfic#dragon age fanfic#fen'harel#betrayal#moon'hwa lavellan#villains
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That thing about Solas and the Inquisitor’s kid was going around again, so I felt like writing another one. Solas deserves to have his stupid plans be called out by children. :P
Adaia Ashalle Cyris and Tamlen
...
“What does hooey mean?”
“What does-” Dorian’s approaching voice cut off, a sigh echoing down the spiral staircase. “Spell it for me, won’t you?”
“H-u-e,” the other voice replied, serious in the particularly earnest fashion only a child could be.
“Hue,” Dorian clarified. “It means a shade of color that has not had any black or white added to it– a pure color.”
The voices were approaching the rotunda, which could only mean one thing. Dorian was trying to escape. Resigned, Solas reached for the book he was reading and slid a scrap of paper between the pages, closing it. Not a suitable volume for a very prying da’len to be looking at.
“Is blue a hue? Is purple a hue?” the child’s voice asked doggedly. Much like her words, as Dorian appeared in the archway, the small elven girl behind him was following like a tail. Perniciously close.
“Yes, blue and purple are hues– oh look! It’s your Hahren! He’s so much better at fielding endless inquiries than I am,” Dorian lightly touched the girl’s shoulder, propelling her past him into the rotunda. Solas gave him a flat look, and Dorian made a pleading gesture from behind the Inquisitor’s eldest daughter, clasping his hands together. “Well! This has been a marvelous hour, but I’m afraid I must be off to…report. To Josephine. About something I’m sure I’ll think of by the time I get there.”
The mage beat a hasty retreat.
Adaia half-turned to watch him go, solemn golden eyes thoughtful. Her expressions were much like her mother’s, pensive in rest. But behind the small frown was a six-year-old child possessed of a near-bottomless well of questions, as curious as her younger siblings were in their own unique ways. Solas folded his hands together, watching as she clutched the worn book in her arms to her chest, tucking her chin atop it.
“Are there many words you don’t know in your book today, da’len?”
She pivoted to face him, hugging the book a bit tighter. “Yes. It’s not a learning book, Hahren.”
“There are no books in this world, da’len, that do not have something to teach. What is it about?”
“Poems,” she said without pronouncing the ‘e’, approaching him with one last glance over her shoulder. Her Dalish dress of brightly patterned, hand-woven cloth was rather dusty; she’d been digging through the depths of the shelves again. “Is Dor’an mad?”
“No, da’len, he enjoys being exasperated. That means frustrated.”
She shot him a look so dubiously suspicious that Solas had to stifle a laugh. Adaia shook her head at him soberly, chin-length brown hair swinging. Her voice was dictating but patient, as if he’d said something foolish. “People don’t like being mad.”
“Everyone is different. In this case, though, I believe he likes to pretend to be mad. Do you like the poems?” He took the book as she handed it to him, examining it with curiosity. Verses of Nature; he knew instantly why she’d chosen it. Ada had a particular fascination with insects and plants. The little one leaned against the arm of his chair, arms barely able to reach to fold atop it.
Adaia rested her chin in the hollow between her arms and chest, staring up at him with a penetrating air. “No,” she admitted with a charming frankness. “I like books about bones and mushrooms but there arn’t anymore. The poemtry don’t make sense. D’you like poems?”
“Poetry,” he corrected out of habit, but didn’t correct her grammar. Solas carefully opened the aged book, holding it so both he and the small child could look at it together. It seemed to be a collection of nature poetry. “Well, it may not be about bones, but butterflies and waterfalls. Those are interesting things as well, da’len.”
“Where are the butterflies?”
“In the poem it says they are on the flowers, do you see?” Solas asked, pointing to the stanza.
“No.” Frustration touched her voice and expression, and the little one gave a small huff, lips pursing mulishly. “Not no seeing. I see it. The butterflies are dancing on the– the…”
“Roseate,” Solas supplied. He took a moment to consider his audience, and then chose his explanation. “Which means pink. Pink like the dawn. Do you understand what I mean by that?”
“Yes,” she dismissed. Still, she repeated the word as if imprinting it on her memory. Which, knowing Adaia, she was. “Rosey-ate blooms. Blooms means flowers. Pink flowers. It don’t say where.”
“You wish to know where the butterflies can be found?” he asked, understanding dawning. When she nodded ferociously, he smiled. “This is a poetry book, da’len. It is for learning about feelings, not learning where to find butterflies.”
Owlish amber eyes stared at him with a gaze as penetrating as a dagger. “Why?”
Once again faced with the eternal question, Solas sympathized with Dorian’s hasty retreat. He knew the Tevinter mage was exceedingly fond of the serious, inquisitive girl, so she must have been at it for quite some time. “Do you remember when your siblings were babies, da’len? Did they often cry?”
“Mamae says babies are learning the world. It’s scary an’ new. That’s why they cry.”
“What an excellent way to put it!” he agreed, not surprised that Inquisitor Mahariel had so concisely explained things to her daughter. He had watched the way she spoke to her children, and it was much the same way she spoke to adults– simple, concise, and to the point. “As we grow older, we learn there are many, many more things in the world than we ever knew. There will always be new things to learn.”
Ada shot him a dubious look. “Even Hahren?”
“Even Hahren,” he reassured her, finding that more true by the day. “When you learn something new, do you like to share it with people?” He asked, already knowing the answer that her sturdy nod affirmed. “When people feel things, they also like to share them. That is what poems are for.”
“An’ babies?”
“When a baby is born, it only knows to cry when it is feeling new things, yes?”
“Yes,” Adaia said with a tinge of disgust. She shook her head with a roll of her eyes, in a rather impressive mimicry of her father Darian. “One time, one time Tamlen fell, but he wan’t hurt, an’ he cried anyways. Cried an’ cried.”
“What did your parent do?” he inquired, rather than drawing her away from that tangent.
“Papa,” she corrected him firmly. “He picked up Tamlen an’ he threw him in the air.”
It wasn’t the point he had been intending to make, but the da’len was, after all, only six years old, and there were limitations to a child’s comprehension. “By throwing him in the air it made him happy. Does looking at butterflies make you happy?”
Adaia’s lips pursed into a line as she seriously considered his question. Her hands reached out, and she took the book from him again. Solas relinquished it in silence, the pages rustling as Ada flipped through them. He could practically see her putting together thoughts in her head, fitting together the pieces of their discussion into a wholly new conclusion. It was a fascinating thing.
Granted, often the conclusion she came to…
“Poems are for reading when you crying,” she decided.
…was vastly different from the one he would expect.
“At times,” he agreed, fighting back the urge to try and explain the nuance to her.
“An’ you cry because things are un’aspected,” she finished.
Well.
That was a more insightful statement than he was anticipating. “Yes. When you feel new things, writing or reading a poem can help you learn about those feelings. Do you understand?”
“I already know butterflies,” she decided, closing the book emphatically. “It’s not un’aspected.”
“But do you know how to say how you feel when you see a butterfly? Could you write a poem to tell me how you feel about butterflies?”
“Happy,” she said, closing the book emphatically. “There!”
“Hmm?”
“There I said it,” Adaia declared, standing on her tip-toes to drop the book on his desk. She dusted off her hands, and then thumped her fists on her hips. “It’s easy, Hahren.”
Solas chuckled, amused. “But could you say it in a poem, da’len?”
Ada stared at him, and then abruptly turned and bolted out of the rotunda, bare feet slapping across the floor. In confusion, he watched the colorful little blur disappear. Well. Perhaps she’d tired of the conversation. It had never happened before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.
With a glance at the book of poetry, he went back to his own reading, shaking his head lightly.
He could not help but feel he’d done a poor job of explaining himself.
Solas had thought that was the end of the conversation, but after dinner a messy, wrinkled piece of paper had been left on his desk. It appeared to have been written in charcoal, and a great many words had been smudged by a small hand. Still, it was legible enough, and all the words were spelled correctly– likely someone had helped her.
It read:
There are butterflies in Amaranthine
They are white and some are blue
Daddy and Papa took me up up up the mountain
The butterflies are not here
The sky is blue
The clouds are white
I am only a little sad because
I can see the butterfly colors in the sky
There are no fireflies in the mountain
At night there are stars
So I will not cry
Solas read it over several times. Strange, the sudden uneasiness he felt from the child’s simple, bare words. It was an echo of the pain of many a long and sleepless night, thinking of what must be done, and what was to come for him, for this world...
And for the shadows that remained.
A child’s innocent verse about missing butterflies should not rouse such emotion within him. Unwilling to examine his own feelings, he put it away. Still, it haunted him, and he went outside to clear his head in the night air, he stared at the stars that flickered in the darkness and thought of the shadows. The echoes.
He felt things he was unwilling to feel.
Unexpected things.
It was an excellent poem.
#Solasfic#adaia tabris#not that anyone cares but#Inquisitor Mahariel isn't the Hero#Darian Tabris is#they're in a triad marriage with Zev :P#hey buddy the dinanshiral is a bad idea#just saaaaayin#out of the mouths of babes
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The Heretic: The Aftermath
Former Inquisitor Lavellan is being pursued by Inquisition forces down the treacherous mountain slopes that cradle Skyhold. Will she make it to the Storm Coast or be caught and hanged for her "supposed" crimes?
CW for The Heretic under the line. This is a DarkSolas fic.
Gore, Blood, Sex, Language, Torture, Poor Grammar, (No really.)
Copious plot holes, (Guys it took 7 years to write, I didn't always have the story straight:/) Oh yeah, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!
You have been warned.
#solasfic#solavellan#darksolas#dragon age inquisition#fen'harel#dragon age fanfic#dai#epic#tragedy#just leave a comment fest#villains#fanfic
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The Heretic: Crywolf
Chapter 5
Moon'Hwa has escaped the dark clutches of Redcliffe and jumped right into the depths of another. Solas makes his first physical entrance into the story. Can he convince Moon'hwa to give up the Anchor to him? Can Moon'Hwa free herself from his demands? Or will they just kiss already and make up?
This is a Dark Solas fic. In fact, I wrote most characters in this fic as villains, even Moon'Hwa. There are no heroes here.
CW under the line
Body horror, gore, drowning, blood, sex, torture, run-on sentences, bad pacing, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You have been warned. >;D
#solasfic#solavellan#darksolas#fen'harel#dragon age inquisition#dragon age fanfic#fanfic#tragedy#dai#villain#theheretic#postrespasser#moon'hwa lavellan
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The Heretic: Threads of the Wicked
Chapter 4
Our fateful Inquisitor makes it to Redcliffe, but she is greeted with new troubles and some old ones! It's hard to hide in the crowd with a glowing appendage, will her identity be found out?
CW under the line---This is a Dark Solas fic. In fact, I wrote most characters in this fic as villains, even Moon'Hwa. There are no heroes here.
Gore, death, torture, Oh my! Blood and body horror! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!
#solasfic#solavellan#darksolas#dragon age inquisition#fen'harel#dragon age fanfic#dai#epic#tragedy#just leave a comment fest#villains#fanfic
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The Heretic: The Wrath of Resolution
Chapter 12
In the opening flashback, Moon'Hwa returns to Skyhold with The Iron Bull. Where she must face her fate and a surprising twist that threatens to unravel everything she once believed about herself and Solas.
A jump to present and Moon'Hwa finds herself within the home of her rescuers far from the battle that almost took her life and...far from Solas...or so it seems for now. Moon'Hwa learns quickly that she must return the favor and save her rescuers from themselves. The Dread Wolf tracks her with the Anchor and without her Runecrafting glove, it glows brighter than any beacon.
CW under the line---This is a Dark Solas fic. In fact, I wrote most characters in this fic as villains, even Moon'Hwa. There are no heroes here.
Gore, death, torture, Oh my! Blood and body horror! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!
#solasfic#solavellan#darksolas#dragon age inquisition#fen'harel#dragon age fanfic#dai#epic#tragedy#just leave a comment fest#villains#fanfic#daifanfic#moon'hwa lavellan
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The Heretic: Mangled Hands, Mangled Minds
Chapter 3
Former Inquisitor Moon'Hwa Lavellan is now a fugitive, forced to seek provisions in a small village for her journey to the Storm Coast. Unfortunately, old memories haunt her and the Inquisition hunts her, but they aren't the only ones. Will she ever find relief?
This is a Dark Solas fic. In fact, I wrote most characters in this fic as villains, even Moon'Hwa. There are no heroes here.
CW under the line
Body horror, gore, drowning, blood, sex, torture, run-on sentences, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You have been warned. >;D
#solasfic#solavellan#darksolas#fen'harel#dragon age inquisition#dragon age fanfic#fanfic#tragedy#dai#villain#theheretic#postrespasser#moon'hwa lavellan
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Sparring Day WIP/Snippet
It's the bare bones of something y'all, but I would like to share it. This fits into my prologue series which takes place during the events of DAI before everything sort of goes to shit...
For some context: Solas and Moon'Hwa slept together the night before and Moon'Hwa unfortunately woke up to an empty bed. Solas was nowhere to be found for half of the day. Moon'Hwa really isn't happy about it. Nevertheless, it is her training day and today she is training against a battlemage. Solas decides to take his place...
' Solas placed a steadying hand on the mage’s shoulder, “Eskel you are relieved,” and maneuvered in front of him into my direct line of sight.
“Oh, this should be GOOD!” The Iron Bull slapped his fist into his palm.
The battlemage slunk out gratefully, wiping his brow with his sleeve and the crowd absorbed his humble shape, while his replacement kept his eyes trained at my feet.
“How dare you,” I growled lowly, my fingers twitching with fragile rage.
“Ready yourself.” Solas ordered coldly with his head lowered, pulling his dawnstone staff from the leather holster on his back.
I couldn’t help myself, the sight before me provoking a deep scoff, and my wrists spun my daggers in agitated ringlets, “What makes you different than any other mage at my disposal?” The words tasted bitter in my mouth, and I swallowed the rest roughly before they could bubble out. Solas seemed unaffected by my regurgitating spite and raised his staff and along with it, my hair stood on end. The air crackled and sizzled, a tangible buzzing emanated from his direction and his eyes finally met mine.
“I am not afraid to strike you.” '
#dragon age inquisition#darksolas#solavellan#solasfic#daifanfic#theheretic#moon'hwa lavellan#fen'harel#Solas and Lavellan fight#sparring#snippet#solas snippet#Solavellan snippet#prologues to the heretic
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WIP Wednesday: Two Queens (working title)
Well it seems I have risen from the dead. I am actually posting on Wip Wednesday for once in like 7 months. There is some possible lore deviation here but what is fanfiction if not an expansion upon canon material? This is still in its rough stage so please bear with me.
CW Gore and murderous thoughts.
I untangled each bundle of braids and snipped them at the base while Solas went back to resting his eyes, still sleepy from our previous activities.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and freed more hair from his head.
The course braids slid to the floor hissing like serpents.
I checked the mirror to see his eyes still closed and Dal’nim unsuccessfully attempting to disassemble one of his braids on her own. She glanced up at me with a coy smile and finger pressed to her lips.
I grimaced and caught my own reflection in the polished shears. They were sharp enough to do the job, they could slice more than just hair.
His neck was exposed, and his eyes were shut.
"You asked me earlier when we played chess ...if I joined the Evanuris in their deleterious game.”
I jumped, startled, and nearly took off my own finger.
He watched me curiously with a brow held in question.
I nodded slowly.
"I was one of the Pawns...then I became a Knight...then a King and then...something more."
"You were a slave?" I asked as gently as I could, trying to recover from my surprise, my tongue coiled around the last word hesitantly.
"Not exactly," Solas explained and finished with a sorrow drenched whisper, "She asked me to fight."
"Mythal?"
Snip.
"Yes." He answered after a pause.
"...so, you had to prove yourself."
"Not to her. Them." He hissed, as if referring to them at all was akin to a heated knife slicing through flesh.
"You became something more? Did Mythal elevate you?" I probed, genuinely interested.
Snip.
"I ascended as a general to lead her armies against them. To give orders, strategies, plans that ensured success. Victory canonized me as a god...as one of them."
Snip.
The memory that his imagery conjured struck a chord in an already fracturing symphonic resolve.
“Pawns, although simple can accomplish great things.”
In that moment he wasn’t referring to me. He was talking about himself.
Remorse settled into my chest, even though it had no right to. Every time an opportunity arose to kill this man, my own hand hesitated. As if it had a will of its own, its own beating heart, mind and soul. Instead of relishing in the self-serving redemption of ridding this world of its greatest threat, my heart rejected the thought of him drowning in a pool of his own blood.
I would have to convince it otherwise and I was running out of time.
Snip.
I counted all the areas of his body that would be lethal to these sheers.
Snip.
There would be four, I could run them through his eyes, slash his jugular, stab them through his heart, or jab them through his mouth. I had killed others in similar ways, would the Dread Wolf be different?
I warred with myself, my inner voice screaming at me from the abyss of my mind. “You asked for this! Coward!”
I kept waiting for someone, anyone to come in and take Dal'nim away... Even Talek would be acceptable I was desperate, and I would be willing to faint surprise if I had to. Moments past and I delayed time as much as I could.
I bore into his head, devoid of most hair, visions of Dal’nim’s face bathed in his blood haunted me.
It would be now or never.
"Why are you hesitating?"
I nearly choked on my own saliva and I inhaled sharply and met his eyes in the mirror.
His inquisitive gaze climbed down my face and torso to land on my hands, shifting languidly from left to right. A question followed soon after.
“Why are you spinning the shears?"
I caught myself, wrists still rotating as if I was holding my decorated daggers and ready to strike.
The door creaked open with a moan that split the silence. The Inquisition double agent peered in, eyes wide as he took sight of me with the sheers.
I lowered my shaking hand with the sheers, placing them on the table next to the chair.
Opportunity lost.
#solasgetshishaircut#theheretic#twoqueens#solas angst#solas romance#solas is fen'harel#agentsoffen'harel#post trespasser#tension#daific#solasfic#WIP Wednesday
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Sparring Day continued (Rough Draft)
'He offered me no time to react-- Violet lightning cleaved through the air, splitting my hair from my head as I veered to dodge with my teeth chattering into my cheek.
“Lightning is nearly impossible to avoid. It can jockey through metal, water and air, you can fry armored soldiers on the spot within a blink, and with one targeted strike; end them.”
I flipped into a muddy puddle with a splash, decorating the onlookers with a cascade of mud and they jostled themselves backwards another ten steps. I glanced down at my feet submerged within its brown reflective depths, a violet flash and a clap of earth shackling thunder propelled a fizzling static cloud that now hurtled in my direction. I twisted awkwardly, twirling out the water and onto a dryer patch of grass and gravel. A deep scorch is all that remained of the area I had evicted myself from.
“You will have no time to fight a Mage if you constantly need to defend and retreat. You can only hope that I run out of mana before I kill you.” Solas admonished from his corner; he hadn’t moved a step since he entered. He hadn’t needed to, and it only agitated me further.
“Then I propose we keep dancing until you bleed dry.” I jeered, my resentment besting me.
The ghost of a grin crossed Solas’s face, and the air seemingly grew colder, a chill plunging down, knocking into each vertebra along its descent.
“You dance well. Let us witness how long you can endure. Tell me, how will you perform on ice?” '
#solavellan#darksolas#dragon age inquisition#solasfic#daifanfic#theheretic#moon'hwa lavellan#prologues to the heretic#sparring#inquisitor fights solas#solavellan snippet#dark solas
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The Heretic: To Reap, To Sow, To Kill
Chapter 18
Oh my, can't believe I have been posting these chapters for 18 weeks now!! Also, almost forgot this time! Haha!
Solas and Moon'Hwa dive deeper into his world. The pair are tied to this deleterious purpose and the only path is forward. Partnered by their shaky bond, the two descend into the depths of a mountain, Moon'Hwa devises a plan for escape and a possible method of disposing of Thedas's greatest threat once and for all. Can Solas survive an entire mountain caved in on him? Moon'Hwa doesn't wait around and find out as her escape leads her to something horrific and ancient and very much still alive. Solas has tucked away many secrets in this hallowed place.
CW under the line---This is a Dark Solas fic. In fact, I wrote most characters in this fic as villains, even Moon'Hwa. There are no heroes here.
Gore, death, torture, attempted murder, violence, Blood and body horror! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH! In future chapters!
#I wrote most characters in this fic as villains#Gore#death#torture#solasfic#solavellan#darksolas#dragon age inquisition#fen'harel#dragon age fanfic#dai#epic#tragedy#villains#fanfic#daifanfic#moon'hwa lavellan#theheretic#elvhen artifacts#elven artifacts#yeah I dropped a mountain on solas#andruil#evanuris#trapped in a mirror
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The Heretic: The Veil Is Thin, Here.
Chapter 17
Moon'Hwa is left to ruminate alone in the labyrinth, her memories return and anxieties grow as each hour crosses into another day. Tucked away like a knife, she devises a plan to escape through deadly opportunity. There is much about this place that remains foreign to her, but no matter where she explores she feels him everywhere. Especially, when she stumbles into someplace she isn't supposed to see and its too late to turn back. The Dread Wolf's scheme and her involvement is unavoidable and...involuntary.
CW under the line---This is a Dark Solas fic. In fact, I wrote most characters in this fic as villains, even Moon'Hwa. There are no heroes here.
Gore, death, torture, murder, violence, Blood and body horror! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH! In future chapters!
#I wrote most characters in this fic as villains#Gore#death#torture#solasfic#solavellan#darksolas#dragon age inquisition#fen'harel#dragon age fanfic#dai#epic#tragedy#villains#fanfic#daifanfic#moon'hwa lavellan#theheretic#elvhen artifacts#elven artifacts
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The Heretic: In His Hands
Chapter 16
omg, I almost forgot! Haha! I was gone all day today!
There is nothing more profound than the truth...or more damning. Moon'Hwa is confronted by it, her own mind betraying her, no longer can she feast upon the lies of stubborn innocence, for she has the text that states her sins, and now...she has the memory to accompany it. Worst of all, trapped within an unknown place, he finally has her in his hands. Solas makes his permanent entry back into her life. Whether she likes it or not.
CW under the line---This is a Dark Solas fic. In fact, I wrote most characters in this fic as villains, even Moon'Hwa. There are no heroes here.
Gore, death, torture, violence, Blood and body horror! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH! In future chapters!
#I wrote most characters in this fic as villains#Gore#death#torture#matricide#solasfic#solavellan#darksolas#dragon age inquisition#fen'harel#dragon age fanfic#dai#epic#tragedy#villains#fanfic#daifanfic#moon'hwa lavellan#theheretic
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The Heretic: Maternal Favors
Chapter 15
Alright y'all. Please look at the CW warnings for this one. This is heavier than the last. Last one was a doozy and this is a knockout. So just be careful.
Former Inquisitor Lavellan, alone, truly alone save for the memories she left in the ash, pursues the forbidden grove that shelters someone she long thought dead. Her father's dying wish has her committing a henious and unforgivable act, but can she force her hand to slay someone most precious, all for the greater good? The forbidden temple in the sacred grove holds more than she expects. Fraught with remorse and regret the wolf she had evaded until now finally has her cornered.
CW under the line---This is a Dark Solas fic. In fact, I wrote most characters in this fic as villains, even Moon'Hwa. There are no heroes here.
Gore, death, torture, matricide, attempted suicide. Blood and body horror! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!
#I wrote most characters in this fic as villains#Gore#death#torture#solasfic#solavellan#darksolas#dragon age inquisition#fen'harel#dragon age fanfic#dai#epic#tragedy#villains#fanfic#daifanfic#moon'hwa lavellan#theheretic
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The Heretic: Cinders on My Tongue
Chapter 14
Oh man, this chapter is a doozy.
The Inquisitor, Hawke, and Aveline escape Kirkwall and are on their way to Ostwick with the Inquisition in hot pursuit. Unfortunately, Moon'Hwa's predicament affords Aveline many reasons to fuel her regrets in aiding the deposed Inquisitor. The Gaurd Captain of Kirkwall and the Champion both have much to lose if Spymaster Leliana sets her sights on them. How much are they willing to sacrifice in the name of someone only bound to Elvhen legend?
Their meager bonds of unsteady trust are tested when the trio collides head-on with the forces Commander Cullen is routing.
When Moon'Hwa does find her clan in the later half of the chapter... let's just say... she wasn't the first to pay a visit. Instead of her brethren, Keeper, and daughter, she finds only horror and the remnants of malice. If only she had arrived a couple hours sooner, if only she wasn't left with a heart-wrenching choice. dun dUN DUN!
CW under the line---This is a Dark Solas fic. In fact, I wrote most characters in this fic as villains, even Moon'Hwa. There are no heroes here. Well, maybe except for Hawke, and honestly Aveline isn't that bad either. So I take back what I said. Haha!
Gore, death, torture, burning alive, mentions of child death, Oh my! Blood and body horror! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!
#I wrote most characters in this fic as villains#Gore#death#torture#solasfic#solavellan#darksolas#dragon age inquisition#fen'harel#dragon age fanfic#dai#epic#tragedy#villains#fanfic#daifanfic#moon'hwa lavellan#hawke da2#Aveline da2#free marches#hawke saves the day
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The Heretic: Crossfires and Crossroads
Chapter 13
Posting a day early because I will be too busy tomorrow!
Moon'Hwa of the past wakes, provoked by a harrowing nightmare. A mysterious bowl of soup has been delivered to her and a note from an unknown sender from someone who hopes to gain her trust.
Moon'Hwa of the present and her escort make their perilous attempt at escaping an Inquisition-controlled Kirkwall. But Inquisition soldiers aren't the only ones they need to avoid if Moon'Hwa hopes to make it to Ostwick in one piece.
CW under the line---This is a Dark Solas fic. In fact, I wrote most characters in this fic as villains, even Moon'Hwa. There are no heroes here.
Gore, death, torture, Oh my! Blood and body horror! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!
#I wrote most characters in this fic as villains#Gore#death#torture#solasfic#solavellan#darksolas#dragon age inquisition#fen'harel#dragon age fanfic#dai#epic#tragedy#villains#fanfic#daifanfic#moon'hwa lavellan
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