They are gone! Trapped, where I imagined they belonged, lost as a price for their vanity, for rising up and seizing power, using it to harm and abuse the people! Even before they were sealed away, before their time came, I was damned and shamed for daring to try and free the People from their chains, from their abuse! "Beware the forms of Fen'Harel! Remember the price of treason, and keep in your heart the mercy of your gods!"
[ It isn't something he can expect someone not from Arlathan to understand. Solas had stood in the wake of the Evanuris, he had been there, had demanded the freedom of those who had never been given it, released them from their chains and their brands... And then he woke here, to see the same markings being used as a form of worship. There are few things that would hurt him so deeply, and this is a wound that will not heal. ]
I come to them with the truth, when they parade with the brands of their slave masters on their faces. They do not fear and respect me, they respect the lie that was built upon my legacy when I fell into a deep sleep. I will not become what the Evanuris were! I will not rise and claim the mantle of godhood where it is undeserved - I will not claim to be anything more than what I am! I was Solas first, and Fen'Harel when they needed a name to damn me by!
[ Solas shifts, dragging his body away, alight with anger. All his frustration with Morrigan, with Sorrel, with Adalia, with the Dalish - all of it rises like bile in his throat. It is an anger born of years of hurt and pain, years of seeing the Dalish wear markings and claim truths, years of being shunned and ignored while basking in the truth of what made him. Of seeing his name damned when he had done no more than free the People. ]
Mythal was dead! Murdered by those who claimed to love her, who claimed her blood, her heritage! They claimed divinity but were no more powerful than the magic they used! I unravelled their lies and showed the People enslaved that they could be better - that they could have better! And -
[ He breathes out, sharply. ]
I am no God, Thranduil. I would not ask you to think of what Mythal was. No one could understand what Mythal had been, at her fullness. [ It's clear that Solas loved her, but what that love was... He cannot say now. ] I cannot use the title of Fen'Harel to have the Dalish love nor fear me. [ Quieter, now. ] I would be no better than those I damned to eternity. I have taken enough from the People - I want to give.
no subject
[ It isn't something he can expect someone not from Arlathan to understand. Solas had stood in the wake of the Evanuris, he had been there, had demanded the freedom of those who had never been given it, released them from their chains and their brands... And then he woke here, to see the same markings being used as a form of worship. There are few things that would hurt him so deeply, and this is a wound that will not heal. ]
I come to them with the truth, when they parade with the brands of their slave masters on their faces. They do not fear and respect me, they respect the lie that was built upon my legacy when I fell into a deep sleep. I will not become what the Evanuris were! I will not rise and claim the mantle of godhood where it is undeserved - I will not claim to be anything more than what I am! I was Solas first, and Fen'Harel when they needed a name to damn me by!
[ Solas shifts, dragging his body away, alight with anger. All his frustration with Morrigan, with Sorrel, with Adalia, with the Dalish - all of it rises like bile in his throat. It is an anger born of years of hurt and pain, years of seeing the Dalish wear markings and claim truths, years of being shunned and ignored while basking in the truth of what made him. Of seeing his name damned when he had done no more than free the People. ]
Mythal was dead! Murdered by those who claimed to love her, who claimed her blood, her heritage! They claimed divinity but were no more powerful than the magic they used! I unravelled their lies and showed the People enslaved that they could be better - that they could have better! And -
[ He breathes out, sharply. ]
I am no God, Thranduil. I would not ask you to think of what Mythal was. No one could understand what Mythal had been, at her fullness. [ It's clear that Solas loved her, but what that love was... He cannot say now. ] I cannot use the title of Fen'Harel to have the Dalish love nor fear me. [ Quieter, now. ] I would be no better than those I damned to eternity. I have taken enough from the People - I want to give.