thranduil oropherion (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rowancrowned) wrote2015-03-22 06:02 pm
rowancrowned) wrote2015-03-22 06:02 pm
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[ 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.
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(it does not cross his mind that solas is being anything but truthful.)
he releases solas, and steps back. gone is the stiletto-sharpness of his words, meant to flay his friend open so that they might address the ugly truths. ]
You are no god, no more than I. You are dear to me and close to my heart. You returned when Mythal did not.
[ he must rethink some things. reorganize. his voice is not hoarse, they were not that loud, and shielded from the hearing of the rest of the gallows too, but he finds his glass, and drinks deeply from it. he would rather address the wine than his friend. ]
They do not parade, Solas. [ softly. ] They simply know no better, and cling to what scraps they have. If you want to give them something, give them love. Unconditionally. Accept that they will stumble, like children, cry, like children, have fits of temper, like children, for children is all they are.
[ he hesitates, a moment of consideration, of interrupted thought: ] They die like flies, breed when they are but children, but Solas, but there ought to have been enough of those who followed you, who knew the truth. Where did they go? Did they have no children? Leave no record? This is too much to forget, even with how little time they had.
[ how had they all died? how was the truth forgotten this badly? ]
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[ Thranduil knows, now. Solas would not be fool enough to think that this will remain a secret for long, but the knowledge has always been there for the Dalish to take: they were simply unwilling to listen. There are things he would not tell them himself, knowing their reaction, but...
He is old, and he is tired, and he fighting to reclaim so much that was lost to him. His plan is set, he simply needs the parts to fall into place. Corypheus' end is simply one of those things. ]
I never left, Mellon nin. I slept, long into the millennia, and I watched as ages passed me by. I waited to have the strength to return, I hoped that the People would be enjoying the fruits of their freedom... But it was not so.
[ Solas turns, does not watch his friend drink, cannot bear to look upon him. His sadness is etched upon his face, surely. ]
I cannot love them they way that they are. Not when I see the scorn in their eyes and the ignorance in their hearts. I had tried, but in comparison to the People they try and claim to be...
[ His breathing is quiet, and he bows his head. There might be tears, but he forces his face away, to hide them from the one who might witness them. He is hurt, and he is shattered, but he will rebuild once more. He will be Solas again when the morning comes, but for now he can be weak.
Where did they go, he asks, and Solas can't even bring himself to laugh. ]
The creation of the Veil was designed to free my People from would be Gods. The Veil was a means to trap them where they could do no harm. It robbed the People of their immortality, and over time those that followed me fell to ruin and died. While I rebelled there were many who would not follow me, who damned my name - when I slept?
[ And here is the truth of it all, the heart of the matter, the last secret he has: ]
'Fen'Harel's Veil has turned our empire to ruins.'
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he has the full tapestry, now, not merely frayed ends. he needs to comfort his friend, first, but already he is adjusting his plans to make room for the truth, so long hidden from his sight. ]
Solas, [ he says, and when the other elf does not look up, he says again, sharper, ] Solas.
This is not beyond repair. There is yet space to make things right.
[ corypheus must fall, first, but this world is unblemished beyond the blight, and even that is not so insurmountable as melkor nor sauron. so many of thedas' problems would be solved by the guarding hand of a people unrestrained by time. thranduil has questions, chiefest among them the containment of the evanuris, the forgotten ones, but they can wait.
he steps closer and offers his hand. ]
You did well. I will thank you for it, if no one else has.
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There's nothing left to tell, and he is exhausted from the weight of it. He feels as though he might fall apart, but he has someone - more than one someone - to push the pieces of himself together again.
The sharpness of his name makes him lift up and he hesitates, staring. ]
Is there?
[ For a moment, all Solas can do is stare at the hand offered to him. He doesn't know what to do with it, at least at first, and there's some hesitance to him. He's afraid of what it might mean to take the hand - he's afraid of what it might mean to accept everything that Thranduil offers. The comfort, the warmth, the friendship.
Things he had given up, things he had lost.
Solas takes the hand. ]
No one wants what the Veil did to the People. That is why I must end it.
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[ something lurks behind his eyes, in the way he momentarily gazes past solas, past this room. ]
He can be dealt with. Then the Veil, and the Blight, and finally things will be in their proper order.
[ he squeezes solas' hand, offering what comfort he can with the warmth of his affection, his certainty.
but another thought occurs to him: ]
What of the remaining Evanuris, when the Veil falls?
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He doesn't know. His eyes flick over to Thranduil. ]
It will take more time than I think you imagine it will, my friend. But I am prepared to give it whatever it needs.
[ This is his plan, his mistake, his thing to repair. He has to do it, and that is why he is still getting himself tangled with all these people. ]
... I had plans for them. Should they survive still... [ He shakes his head. ] It will be dealt with.
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We do not need a repeat of the past, [ he says, and hopes that will suffice rather than a drawn out conversation on what the remaining evanuris would likely do without the restraining influence of mythal (supposedly) or solas (at his full strength).
he smiles, wan. ]
Our last few meetings have been unpleasant. I apologize. I promise I get no joy from seeing you in distress.
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No. We do not. [ Frowning, Solas turns his head away. He has said enough this time, he thinks; he has bared his soul enough that he feels as though he might never be able to piece himself together again. It is painful, he thinks, but at least it is done. He cannot regret that.
Slowly, he turns back to look at Thranduil. ]
I come to you when I am distressed. It is no fault of yours.
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[ though how absolute, how trustworthy, to be someone's comfort. if he is to be an anchor of sorts, then let him be so. he has skill enough in being stubborn.
he turns his head, glances over at solas from under lidded eyes: ] It is a silly thing to worry that you think of me in such a way, I am aware. I suppose I am concerned more with the frequency that it happens. These past months have not been kind to you. Nothing has been kind to you in a long time, Solas.
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[ Solas thinks, then, that perhaps he should begin to be more reticent. He should begin to pause his complaints to Thranduil, if only to lighten the burden. He is already heavy with secrets; Solas does not want to add to that.
Waving a hand, he turns away. ]
I do not think kindness is something I am worthy of. Not as it stands.
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[ it is accompanied by the barest touch of the backs of thranduil's fingers to solas' cheek. ]
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[ Solas barely turns into the touch to his cheek, his eyes closing for the barest moment before he breathes out. ]
I do not need to be coaxed. Your company is enough.