hasal

He realized her hand was extended, fingers reaching for him as steady as the eyes she stared at him with. Those eyes.

And when he glanced down he saw it there on her wrist.

The twin, the other half, his heart, hers—

Ara’lin’hasal.

- Message Sent on Ao3 by Aicosu

So for the past week I’ve been binge reading this seriously brilliant Solavellan fanfiction by the incredible @aicosu, and it positively stole my heart to the point I just had to draw fanart for it (drew it from Solas’ perspective). If you’re at all a fan of Solas/Lavellan, I can’t recommend this fic enough - a modern fantasy AU, with a romance kindled through texting. Featuring great pacing, tons of intrigue, humor and awkwardness. Read it. Just do it ;)

Parti Nagy Lajos: Rímként a nyár

Micsoda már a délután, micsoda már,
a redőny leffedt legyező,
ha akarom, félig feltekert madár,
a strandon most csavarnám, épp most
csavarnám ki fürdőruhám,
kikerülném, de konokul csapódik ide
rímként a nyár,
micsoda már a délután, micsoda már,
ülhetnék pilledten földszintes
eszpresszók teraszán
s podravka pivóval olthatnám szomjam talán,
micsoda már ez a délután, micsoda már,
válthatnék rímet, mint inget
egy átizzadt fabulon-naptej és rexona
illatú füredi mozi után,
micsoda még a délután, micsoda még,
no lám, no lám,
mondhatni, fölöttébb izzik a nap,
s mint egy benzinkút ég,
s mondhatni, fű közül szemlélve
kiváltképp mondhatni,
selejtes tűzoltólétraként hasal a vízen a stég,
afelé haladtam lassacskán, s lám,
nem válik sehogysem teljessé metaforám,
micsoda még a délután s micsoda már,
ha lassan kiürülő strand lenne e vers, mi tagadás,
talaján Tandori lábteniszezne és Cseh Tamás,
és piszok lassan hűvösödne, és plédem alatt
óvatos csomókba húzódna össze a gyep,
s egy tévedésből útrakelt lángospapír
zsírozná össze füzetemet,
szóval egészen enyhén estébe hajlana már,
micsoda még ez a délután s micsoda már,
napolaj-maradék, alig innen
a bőrbe-szívódás pillanatán,
vagyis estébe hajlana, s égne a hátbőröm,
karbőröm, ahogy az alkonyat ég,
s hullnának vízcseppek, dalcseppek,
haját ha fésülné száz táncház, száz discoték,
no de ennyit a strandról,
amely mint vershelyzet eleve kitalált,
s ahonnan úgyis csak fáradtan ballagnék ki,
akár e szövegből,
tollait szorosan illesztve
nyugszik a redőnymadár,
túl a bőrbe szívódás pillanatán
mi lehet még ez a nyár, s micsoda már

Queen of the Sea

Fairest thing you’ve ever seen
Witch or goddess? In-between!
Lowly maiden like a Queen
Naime with green eyes

Lived along the sea alone
In a cottage made of stones
Where the wind would twist and moan
Under stormy skies

Naime, Naime! Lift your head!
Lift your voice and raise the dead
Sing sea to shore and hearts from stone
Sing the last lost soldier home
Sing to Heaven high above
Sing for pain and sing for love
Sing for me and me alone
Naime, on your throne


While the earliest known song* relating the legend of Naime dates to Hasafel’s time, there have been multiple versions of the tale set to music. One of the most popular (no doubt due to its rollicking, sea-cadence melody) is Queen of the Sea. While easily three hundred years old or more, it can still be heard nightly in the streets of Saint’s Walk in the Undercity.

Though the story of Naime is quite well-known, arguments persist about her origins. The main thread of the tale is rarely questioned: her being chosen as a sacrifice to the sea-god either to avert or in response to disaster, her singing in the hour of her death, the sea-god Hasal falling in love with her and raising the city of Hasafel from the sea for her.

However, the question of Naime’s slavery is hotly argued. Primarily, whether she was originally a slave, or if that detail of her history is due to a misunderstanding about the broken chains which lay at her feet in even the earliest representations of her. While some say the chains represent her bondage, other scholars insist that they are only the chains with which the villagers bound her to the rocks as a sacrifice for the sea-god, and do not indicate formal slavery.

There is some evidence that the slavery angle came to prominence in the years before Valnon’s founding, when St. Alveron and his people were in servitude to the warlord Antigus. There is no concrete evidence of her slavery even as little as a century before. However, the idea of Naime the slave becoming the queen of Hasafel is now so firmly meshed with her legend that there is no separating it. Once St. Alveron made his sister Lavras the Queen of Valnon, she was considered to be Naime reborn, and even now the most through arguments against Naime’s slavery find very little traction.

Hasafel’s earliest history has been nearly lost, with only fragments of oral history remaining. The Temple has tried to track down the pure strain of the legend, but it is so mixed with embellishments and time that the task is quite impossible. Naime will likely always be shrouded in mystery, and it is perhaps her elusive nature that makes her so appealing, and explains why Hasal and Naime persist in the modern Vallish consciousness when so many of the other old gods and goddesses have been all but forgotten.


*Naime’s Lament or Naime te M'hi (lit. The Tears of Naime). The 2nd century translation is the most commonly heard when it is not sung in the original Hasafeli.