This was written for KCousland as part of the CMDA Secret Santa fic exchange. Merry Christmas, everyone!
It was Cassandra who brought her the news, about six weeks after Corypheus' defeat. Niamh had spent the afternoon at her favourite spot in Skyhold, in the herb garden, busily tending the rashvine nettles. They always needed lots of extra care at this time of the year. She hummed a soft little melody as she plucked out weeds and carefully snipped off brown leaves.
"Inquisitor. It is done." Cassandra's face wore a strange mixture of relief and elation. "The Conclave has agreed on a new Divine. They have chosen Leliana."
It took Niamh a moment to compose a proper reaction to this astounding piece of news. Her mind was racing as she got to her feet and brushed the earth off her robes.
Part of her was immensely glad the clerics hadn't picked Cassandra. Though the Lady Seeker would no doubt have made an admirable leader of the Andrastian faith, Niamh had dreaded the thought of having to face their foes without her at her side.
Vivienne would hardly have been a better choice, of course, considering her plans for reinstating the Circles. Niamh had spent most of her life being trained to be a Keeper, to lead her clan through wisdom and protect them from harm. The idea of locking up mages in a tower, simply because of what they were, had always seemed utterly foreign and perverse to her.
But Leliana… Would she be strong enough to deal with the rivalling factions in the Chantry? Weren't her ideas far too radical to meet with sufficient support? And what would become of the Inquisition without her?
Niamh sighed. "Thank you, Cassandra. It is a huge honour, of course."
Cassandra snorted. "And one I am glad to be spared, Inquisitor. Leliana is up in the rookery, in case you wish to talk to her."
"Well, I guess I'd better." Niamh brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Congratulations are probably in order."
Leliana accepted her well-wishes with perfect equanimity, her pale face betraying not the slightest hint of anxiety or surprise.
"You knew." Niamh didn't even bother to make it a question.
"Yes." Leliana nodded. "I've known for several weeks, but I was waiting for the official announcement to talk to you. Of course I've already made arrangements."
"Arrangements?" Once again, Niamh was struck speechless by Leliana's quiet efficiency.
"The Inquisition will need a new spymaster. Now more than ever you'll need to remain on top of things." Leliana affectionately petted one of her ravens while removing the tiny message cylinder attached to its leg.
"It won't be easy to fill your shoes." Niamh handed her a treat for the bird from the box on the table. "Do you have someone in mind already? Charter maybe? Or Harding?"
"Charter is a promising candidate, but she won't be ready for another few years at least." Leliana sent the bird off with another gentle pat. "And Harding told me she's not old enough yet to spend the rest of her life cooped up in a tower, spotting birds and watching the world go by." Her lips twitched. "Her words, not mine. No, I've made other plans. I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine, Inquisitor."
At her gesture, a man stepped from the shadows behind her. Niamh just barely avoided an undignified squeal of surprise. How could she not have noticed him there? She really needed to pay more attention to her surroundings.
The man tossed back his hood, revealing long blond hair and pointed ears. "Zevran Arainai, formerly of the Antivan Crows, at your service, Inquisitor." He executed a small, polite bow. He was dressed in comfortable leathers that emphasized his slim build, with two daggers strapped to his back. "I already had the pleasure of helping the Inquisition out with that unfortunate little affair regarding the late Lord Enzo of Rialto."
"I remember." Niamh was torn between amusement and apprehension. "You were most helpful."
"I believe Zevran would be very well suited to take over my tasks, after a small period of adjustment." Leliana shot a loaded look at the former assassin who responded with an expression of sheer innocence. "Of course the Inquisition can't be seen to use the methods he is used to from his time in the Crows, but-"
"Ah, I assure you, no one will see us use such tactics." Zevran's smile was almost cat-like in its ferocity, but at the same time it made Niamh's heart skip a beat. "What do you say, Inquisitor? Will you accept my oath of loyalty?"
"If you are ready to tie your fate to someone like me." Niamh raised her hand to show him the mark of the Rift, burned deep into her flesh. "This is all I have going for myself. This is the only reason most of them accept me as their leader. I'm a Dalish elf, a mage, an outcast. Not really hero material."
Zevran's golden-brown eyes met hers, and there was no trace of contempt or doubt in them. "I've pledged my oath, and far more than that, to an elven mage before, Inquisitor. I've never regretted it."
"You mean-" Niamh blushed. Of course. He'd been with the Hero of Ferelden, too. And from the way he'd phrased his reply, they had been more than just friends and companions.
Niamh felt a small pang of disappointment at the thought. She hadn't met many other elves since joining the Inquisition, and she'd been lonely without one of her kind. Solas had always rebuffed her attempts at befriending him, and Sera… Sera had been nothing but a disappointment from start to finish. And while she liked Cullen and Dorian well enough, human men still scared her a bit. Besides, there could be no doubt that Zevran was a particularly attractive specimen, even if he wasn't Dalish. His looks were striking enough to be a distraction, and his voice made her melt inside. But it seemed that his heart was already taken.
And yet… the Hero had gone through the Eluvian with Morrigan, hadn't he? He was Kieran's father, and Morrigan seemed to have a close, if unconventional relationship with him. Niamh sighed. So many questions, and she was unlikely to get a straight answer any time soon.
Zevran was still patiently waiting for her decision. But of course it was already made, had been from the moment she'd set sight on him, really.
Straightening herself to her full height, Niamh extended a hand in greeting. "Welcome to the Inquisition, Zevran Arainai. I will accept your oath and I look forward to working with you."
Zevran kept to the shadows as he crossed Skyhold's vast courtyard, both by habit and by inclination. He was probably safer here than he had been in all the years since he'd left his Warden's side, but there was still no reason to let his guard down.
Leliana would be staying for another two weeks, and they had agreed that he would spend as much time as possible at her side, to learn about the mechanisms of her spy network. He intended to put his free hours to good use as well, and make himself familiar with the fortress and its inhabitants.
The atmosphere at Skyhold was cheerful, almost festive, with everyone basking in the afterglow of having defeated the ultimate evil. A bit like Denerim after the Archdemon had gone down, but with far less death and destruction. Nice and peaceful. Almost too perfect.
Zevran spent an agreeable afternoon exploring the battlements and the buildings surrounding the Great Hall. There were a number of familiar faces around: Varric who had been with Hawke when they'd first met; and Commander Cullen who had been present at the fight against Meredith. Both of them looked older and wearier, but that was only to be expected. He had a friendly chat with a cute dwarf called Harding who was in charge of the scouts and would report directly to him, and he spent an hour in the smithy talking to Dagna and refreshing his memories of Orzammar.
It was only when he came to the gardens that his mood took a turn for the worse.
She was there, with the child. Morrigan. Of course Zevran had known about her involvement with the Inquisition – Leliana had warned him before he came here. But still, watching her stroll around the gardens, with the boy at her side, her maternal smile distinctly at odds with her haughty features… It hurt.
Looking at the boy was even worse. It was impossible to overlook the resemblance to his father, impossible not to recognize that smile, a smile only few people had ever seen on the Warden's face. He'd been aloof, distant, wary. People had called him cold and unfeeling, but Zevran knew better. As did Morrigan, no doubt.
She had noticed him, of course. No hiding from her. Inclining his head in greeting, he watched her carefully. "Morrigan. Or should I say Lady Morrigan?"
"Zevran!" There was the tiniest hint of uncertainty in her voice, and she glanced briefly at the boy, as if worried about his reaction.
The child looked unperturbed, of course, just friendly and curious. I doubt they ever mentioned me to him. And why would they? Again, the pain tore through him, the pain of losing his lover, his friend, his Warden. I should never have left for Antiva. I should have stayed with him. Yet in his heart of hearts he knew that it wouldn't have made a difference. Not with the child as part of the equation.
"Who is this, Mother?" The boy had a pleasant voice, and he was slim and graceful. Half-elven.
"This is Zevran Arainai, Kieran, a former companion of the Hero of Ferelden. We knew each other during the Blight Year." Morrigan sounded calm and composed again. "And of course there's no need for titles or honorifics among us, Zevran."
He raised an eyebrow. Was that an offer of peace, or at least a truce? Zevran wasn't sure. "It's been a long time, Morrigan," he said aloud. "You're still as beautiful as ever."
The compliment had been automatic, an empty phrase, and predictably, she snorted at it, but refrained from calling him out for it. I guess we have all mellowed a little.
"What are you doing here, at Skyhold?" Or maybe not. Morrigan's tone was still cold as a blizzard on a winter's night. "Surely the Inquisitor doesn't wish to be publicly associated with the Antivan Crows."
"I haven't been a Crow for many years, as you are doubtlessly aware." He let a sliver of sharpness creep into his own voice. "Leliana asked me to take over her duties, and the Inquisitor agreed. You will have to get used to my presence, I'm afraid."
"I see." Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "Once again, you have managed to get into the good graces of the one in power. You were always wily like that."
It was an effort to subdue the surge of fury he felt at her words. It wasn't like that. It was never like that! But he couldn't let her see that, couldn't let her know how much he'd cared, still did. So he settled for a bored drawl instead. "It takes one to know one, my dear Morrigan. We are not so dissimilar, I think. You have always had your own agenda, too." He didn't even have to glance at the boy to make his meaning clear.
Morrigan's lips set into a thin line. "We will talk later. In private."
"Of course, my dear." Zevran wasn't about to make a scene in front of the boy. And anyway, what was there to say?
He turned to leave, but he couldn't stop himself from looking at the child once more. So much like him. He would have to stay away from the boy if he didn't want to end up needlessly tormenting himself. And he had to focus on the present and his new task.
Zevran Arainai, working for the Inquisition. He shook his head at himself as he wandered back to his new quarters, above the tavern. Why had he agreed to this? Part of it was that he'd been getting tired of fending off the Crows by himself. But if he was really honest, it had been more than that. The desire to be part of a greater whole again, to recreate some of that purpose and meaning he'd felt when they'd fought the Archdemon.
Still, this was different. This Inquisition was an actual organization, with headquarters and a chain of command and proper supplies. Not just a merry band of misfits joined by a common cause. His eyes were drawn over to the tables set up in front of the tavern. A huge Qunari was raising his tankard with a bellowing laugh, while a dark-haired mage dressed in Tevinter robes called for more wine, and Varric reached for his writing pad to take notes. Or maybe it's not all that different, after all.
It helped that the Inquisitor seemed just as ill-fitted for her position as he felt for his. She was an interesting one. A Dalish elf, slim but tough, her delicate features hard to read because of the numerous tattoos. Zevran hadn't seen such elaborate vallaslin in years. But then of course she was a mage, destined to become a Keeper one day. He wondered what she really thought of a city elf like him.
His room was directly above the tavern's main room, so it wasn't exactly quiet, but its charm more than made up for the noise. Almost the whole room was taken up by a huge bay window overlooking the courtyard, with a padded bench running the length of the wall below it. Someone had decorated it all with cushions and carpets and curtains – probably Sera, the elven archer who had lived here before she had left after a particularly epic quarrel with the Inquisitor. Leliana had told him all about it during supper.
Either way, it was pleasant, if a little overstuffed, and that was easily mended. His few belongings were already here. As per his instructions, no one had touched the trunks to unpack them. Good. He wouldn't want anyone to get hurt.
With a happy sigh, he settled on one of the benches to watch the sun set over Skyhold. He was content with what he'd seen and learned so far. It wasn't perfect, but he would stay, at least for a while.
Only once before had he committed his life and his loyalty to a higher cause, and it had ended in nothing but pain and sorrow for him. But maybe, just maybe, the second time would be the charm. It was worth a try.
Extra special hugs and thanks to suilven for betaing this for me :)