SKYHOLD

"There was a letter for you." Zanrye said slowly.

"Is it a naughty letter?" Dorian asked, his smirk ever present. Zanrye almost threw up his hands there, not saying anything. The peace talks were in days and each day prior, his plate was filling more and more. He'd already had to deal with Cullen's talk of being a lyrium addict, he'd gone and found the heart of a wolf for Vivienne on some obscure quest, and now Mother Giselle was speaking ill of Dorian and came bearing news of his family.

If Zanrye knew anything about the man, it was that matters with his family were complicated, to put things lightly. He and Dorian had only interacted with jokes and instructions for the lessons being taught to the mages. And yet now he had to address the man, who was little more than an ally, as if he were a friend. The look on the man's face at the news made Zanrye wish that someone else were in his place. Dorian raged with the letter in his hand.

"I'm willing to bet this retainer is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and take me back to Tevinter!" Dorian exclaimed. Zanrye, who was sitting, looked up at him wearily.

"You think your father would do that?" He asked lightly. Dorian paused.

"No." He declared. "But I wouldn't put it past him." He inhaled to compose himself. "We'll go and meet this so-called family retainer. It it's a trap, we'll just escape and kill everyone. You're good at that right? If it's not, I send the man back with the message that he can stick his alarm in his wit's end."

"If we're going to do this, we should go with a more open mind." Zanrye told him, his tiredness slipping into his voice. "At least give the man a chance to say what they want."

"I didn't ask you for what you thought now did I!?" Dorian said curtly. Sathan mythal, was all Zanrye could think, begging to Creators to deliver him. Dorian must have sensed this because, though his face remained the same, his voice started again, "That…was unworthy of me. I apologize. There is no harm in hearing what this man of my father's has to say." His voice became surly once more. "If I don't like it, however, I want to leave."

"After we've heard what they have to say." Zanrye urged.

"Yes, yes. After." Dorian said and turned away. Zanrye was being dismissed. He stood and then left the area, leaving Dorian to stew and sizzle. Zanrye checked off his mental list as he ascended to the upper ramparts. He knew the scout was coming before the man reached him. He knew it was time.

"I know. Varric's waiting." Zanrye said and walked out to stand beside the short man.

"Inquisitor." He said.

"Hello Varric." Zanrye sighed, sitting on the raised wall.

"You feeling alright? I see bags." Varric told him. Trust Varric to say what others wouldn't.

"I'll be fine." Zanrye said almost testily. "I just need to finish all these errands…and rest up…before the meeting…."

"I'm sure Scribbles could take some of the burden off of you." Varric offered.

"She and Cassandra are already doing their shares and more." Zanrye replied. "And what's this about Cassandra going to kill you? Who is this Hawke character exactly?"

"I can't believe you don't know already." Varric shook his head. "But when she…"

He did not finish his sentence before Seras Hawke walked out onto the landing with the two of them. The human woman was tall, decked out in armor with furs and spikes, a greatsword at her back. Her hair was perhaps a bit longer than Cassandra's but wavier. Her eyes were green, almost like Nishia's. But she toned at a lighter brown than Nishia. She was maybe four or so shades darker than Zanrye's sister Mima. Her looks did not compare to her stare, however, which spoke of battles and leadership.

And she carried with her a presence that demanded seriousness. Varric introduced the two of them, Zanrye shaking her hand.

"I was thinking you could help the Inq out here with Corypheus." Varric said. "We did fight him after all." Zanrye's gaze fell on the woman who simply walked over to the edge of the rampart, bending over it and looking onto the courtyard.

"Reminds me of my home in Kirkwall…." She said, her tone not at all wistful. "So many people —all out there depending on me." She inhales. "What a burden…."

"Well this one overlooks Thedas." Zanrye said, voice near blunt. "And I've seen the cost of losing…. All of Thedas will suffer unless this demon-mage-thing is stopped."

"And I'm sure you're doing what you can to put your plans to stop him in motion." Hawke said evenly. She was not rising to his tone. Her eyes were still on the courtyard, however.

"I am." Zanrye said, wanting to get past pleasantries. "And yes the burden remains. This burden was once yours—"

"It has been mine since Corypheus reared his ugly head again." Hawke said, looking back at him and standing straight. Zanrye's eyes met hers and he knew it was time to get to business. "I may be able to help you. Varric and I fought and killed Corypheus. But he corrupted the Grey Wardens the last time—manipulated their connection with the darkspawn."

"He was able to get into their heads…make them turn on each other." Varric said gravely. Zanrye's eyes widened and he remembered what Leliana had told him so long ago—and thought to Blackwall, the Warden they had picked up at her request.

"So…if the wardens have gone missing…" He said slowly.

"They may have fallen under Corypheus's control again." Hawke said firmly, anger undertoning her gaze.

"Could have?" Zanrye's face was hard. He looked between the two before him in disbelief. "We need to be certain—we can't let a Grey Warden possibly remain at Corypheus's disposal."

"And we will find out." Hawke said calmly. "I have a friend within the Wardens. His name is Stroud. He was worried about corruption the last time we spoke but I haven't heard from him since then."

"And is your friend gone with the wardens?" Varric asked.

"No." Hawke said. "He told me he'd be hiding in an old smuggler's cave near Crestwood."

"And how exactly do you know about Corypheus or the wardens if you aren't a member of their order?" Zanrye asked her, arms crossed.

"Because the Templars are Kirkwall were using strange lyrium. Red lyrium. I sought out the wardens for help with how to deal with it." Hawke said. Zanrye's stomach dropped.

"That's the same that the Templars with Corypheus had." Varric spoke out what Zanrye had been thinking. He looked to the Inquisitor who merely cursed under his breath.

"Stroud will hopefully know more." Hawke said.

"Well, I appreciate the help. We should get started as soon as possible." Zanrye said to her, inclining his head ever so slightly.

"I'm doing this as much for myself as for you." Hawke said quietly. "Corypheus is my responsibility. He managed to survive me once. I'll make sure there isn't a second time."

Zanrye didn't see this scout until she was right at his elbow and holding a clipboard with her. He turned to look.

"Yes?" He said impatiently.

"Keeper Mithlanel and his party have been waiting to speak to you for the longest now, Inquisitor." The scout said. "Ambassador Montilyet has done all she can to entertain them thus far but…."

"I understand." Zanrye sighed. He turned to Varric and Hawke. "I apologize about this. But Varric, can you and Hawke get me a map on Crestwood and this Stroud's last known location? We'll head there after the meeting at the Winter Palace—straight after. Report all notes to Cassandra on it if I'm unreachable."

"Um…I don't, uh, think I should deliver them to her." Varric said slowly. Zanrye remembered and sighed even deeper now. Nuvenan dina, his mind echoed and he shook his head.

"Then give it to Josephine." He said tiredly and walked back into the fortress. The scout was ever at his side and he made his way down the many steps and across the grand foyer where all manner of people were speaking to all manner of Inquisition members. Construction was still underway but the foyer was mostly done, with carpeting, flooring, and roof work done. All that was left was the miscellaneous decorations—some Zanrye wasn't sure of even still. He'd have to ask Vivienne to go with him shopping again soon to find the appropriate drapes he supposed.

"Keeper Biloro." Zanrye said to the man as he entered, grasping his hand and bowing his head deeply. Josephine was standing with them and there were cups of water on her desk for each of the five people present. He saw instantly that Tiana was with him, as well as his First and a guardsman whose face was rigid and never-changing. He was a champion of mythal. Zanrye continued on, coming to stand near where Josephine sat before her sitting guests, "I apologize for the late arrival. I was delayed upstairs with another person with a message."

"That is quite alright." Keeper Mithlanel said nicely. "Your Ambassador has told us much of the plans for the upcoming stronghold that will be built in the Oasis."

"Yes." Zanrye said, trying to find it in the papers. "And we have the plans for the construction… right…somewhere here…." Josephine pulled it out from the middle and handed it to him. "Here." He passed it to Keeper. "We were thinking of also constructing a base-type structure for your clan, big enough of course for other clans who may come as well. It would more-so be for storage and housing of livestock but I was thinking we could also add some rooms for the potential need to house our—your Clanspeople within them."

"That would be very good." Keeper nodded. "I have already made contact with three other clans, two of who relinquish their rights and claims, and the other that wishes to join us—as an ally as well as resident of the area."

"That extends to an alliance with the Inquisition?" Josephine asked.

"Yes." Keeper nodded. Josephine let her smile come out and she looked to Zanrye, who had to smile back at her.

"I will be leaving most of my instruction to take place via my Ambassador Lady Montilyet, as I have said." Zanrye told them formally now. "You've assured me that is fine?"

"I have. With my condition of course." Keeper said, eyeing the woman. "I would have my own chronicler with her as well. And one of my guards will oversee the processions." That sounded agreeable to Zanrye but then something bothered him. He squirmed a bit.

"Will we be requiring our own guard, Keeper?" He asked the man, eyes searching.

"The guard will be there for our protection." Keeper said kindly. "We are to be not only on your territory but with only a few members ready to defend should any attack happen. I know you would not wish that," Zanrye had opened his mouth to protest, "but you can't be there to police everything that goes on in your Inquisition."

That was what Zanrye had been thinking. He nodded, sighing and continuing, "And when my Ambassador journeys to the Oasis—to your territory?"

"Then by all means, she may bring an escort." Keeper said. "I trust you will manage to keep the escort within cultural bounds."

"I can." Zanrye nodded, and he would most definitely be sending her with at least two elven soldiers—maybe Solas too when he could spare him.

"I have to get back to the Oasis soon." Keeper informed him. "But all documents have been signed and I will leave my chronicler Molepna here with guard Tiana to watch over him."

Zanrye stood and Josephine escorted the Keeper to the door while Molepna bent over the different papers that remained, two copies of everything. Tiana smiled up at the Inq.

"You look tired." She said.

"I am." He responded. "I'm glad you seem to have seen better day though. How've you fared since the temple was opened?"

"Nicely, as you no doubt know." Tiana laughed softly. "We've made a lot of progress. Missed your company though. And your dance moves."

"I haven't had time to do much dancing." Zanrye said tiredly.

"You should try every now and again." She said. "Find time. Come to the temple. We're always ready to find a reason to have a gentle night."

"You know I can't find time for that." Zanrye said to her wryly.

"Not for me?" Tiana winked. She was flirting—but playfully. Zanrye couldn't help but grin at it and shook his head in response again. She rolled her eyes, her smile mischievous. "Alright Inquisitor. But I don't see how you'll be able to find much fun outside of me."

"I think I'll manage." Zanrye laughed.

"With who?" Tiana crossed her arms, ready for more banter. "I don't see any other lovely elven ladies in your service. None of these shem wenches count and Sera is—"

The look on Zanrye's face stopped her midsentence. At the word, his eyes widened and it made him give her a look to be quiet as he remembered they were not alone. Josephine was seeming to absent-mindedly read through the papers, waiting for him.

She was only a few feet away. There was no way in all of Thedas that she didn't hear them.

And yet she did not make it known that she did. Zanrye moved from the desk now, giving Tiana a look before he came to stand before Josephine. She looked up at him with a blank face but the light tinge in her cheeks gave her away. She'd heard, alright. Fuck.

"I…trust that you can take care of things from here, Josephine." He said to her softly. She nodded to him, only the color in her cheeks betraying her. He paused and managed, "I will ensure that proper conduct is upheld during this process." He promised her.

"Of course." She said as if she had no idea what he was referencing and Zanrye's tiredness came once more. He wasn't in the mood to play the game. And he also was starting to feel like shit, from his exhaustion as well as his guilt. He nodded to Tiana and the chronicler and then left the room.

He walked through the foyer and out into the upper courtyard, seeking somewhere quiet to gather his thoughts before the next things on his list.

What he found was bad news that rocked him.

He had gone to the side post near the stables and the tavern where she usually was. He looked into the empty rooms and to the battle dummies, brow furrowed. He asked a scout, two guards, and even Cullen. And finally the mysterious boy Cole—who Zanrye had barely said three words to after allowing him to stay—gave him the answer.

Cassandra was gone.


PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Zanrye tried to be understanding as Josephine paced before him in her office. He walked in on her looking distressed and for a moment, he thought it was because of earlier and he wanted to run back out. But it wasn't. It was for a different matter entirely that had him wrestling to make sense of it and put importance to it. After the subterfuge from Mother Giselle on account of Dorian's family and Cassandra's disappearance, he didn't think he could take much more of this. And now Josephine was talking about her rich family's "plummet." He almost tuned her out but then she looked at him with those eyes. He paused, considering what he had listened to.

"Um…so, what can I…we…do about that, Josephine?" He asked, trying to sound attentive.

"I negotiated a chance to reinstate the Montilyets as landed traders in Orlais." She sighs. "We could rebuild with that…." She sighs again and her face contorted and her words peaked Zanrye's interest instantly. "But when I dispatched paperwork to Val Royeaux…. I just learned …that my carriers were murdered. And the documents…restoring my family's trading status were destroyed."

He was shocked and some weird adrenaline seemed to take over his system and he was suddenly wide awake. There was a threat, a threat that'd been directed at Josephine. It was as if some animal—maybe the Dread Wolf himself—had been birthed in Zanrye's chest.

"Who did it?" Zanrye asked sharply. His face was darkening.

"Leliana was able to find a contact." Josephine said. "Comte Boisvert claims to know who killed them and why. And this…this is why I am telling you." She inhaled. "His only request is that you come with me when I meet him so that he may be seen publicly with you."

"And what will that do?" Zanrye arched a brow, suspicious. "What does he want?"

"Allies and rivals will take note if he is visited by one such as yourself." Josephine said reasonably. "He will be using us but…." Zanrye had no concerns.

"If meeting him is what it takes to find out who's murdering your people, of course I'll come with you." Zanrye said, straightening. And gladly he would. An anger was already beginning to grow within him. He couldn't believe it. Someone had attacked them…attacked Josephine more explicitly. He was oddly protective of her; he couldn't remember being this protective before—or perhaps he never had the chance or reason to before. But now…now someone was after his Ambassador…a woman you care about….

"Thank you Inquisitor!" She practically squealed. "It means…you are too kind. I will arrange things immediately."

She was going to return to her desk when Zanrye reached out to stop her with a hand on her arm. She seemed startled by him and her bright, strange eyes came to rest on his own. He held the stare for a moment before he spoke.

"This isn't a kindness." He said simply, his voice hard. "And it isn't a question—or a favor for you. You don't need to ask me for help." She started to speak but he kept going. "I need you to know this. There is no question." His voice lowered further, his anger slipping in. "If someone poses threat to you, I'll handle them.

He was not opening a discussion but telling her how things would go. Josephine's eyes were surprised and she nodded shortly and slowly. But there was a flush in her face and a look in her eyes that told of her awe. Zanrye released her and she walked slowly to her desk, her eyes on him as he left her office.


PRESENT

REDCLIFFE

Zanrye wanted to instantly go to Val Royeaux, go looking for Cassandra in wherever, and mostly fall down and go to sleep but they had been summoned and Dorian was ready. He took Vivienne and Sera with him as well, leaving Solas to watch over Skyhold in his stead (what with Josephine preoccupied herself). The two stood guard a ways away as Zanrye and Dorian entered.

He was surprised to see the man himself—with vague resemblance to his Tevinter mage ally. Dorian's shock and anger dwarfed Zanrye's own. The man gave a weary sigh as Dorian threw out accusations and Zanrye felt his own defensiveness build up. He didn't quite know their history but the man had just tricked them into coming, refusing—as Dorian pointed out—to be seen with either of them, Zanrye included.

"Considering you lied to get him here, Dorian has every right to be angry." He said, voice hard, arms crossed across his chest.

"Oh and that's not even the half of it." Dorian said to him, eyes on fire like Zanrye had never seen them. He turned them on his father and said lowly, "And maybe you should know…."

"Dorian…" His father's voice was warning. "There is no need to—"

"I enjoy the company of men. My father disapproves."

The statement was dropped with a voice filled with disappointment and venom. The words did not match and for a moment, Zanrye was stunned to silence. He'd already begun to have an inkling that Dorian might prefer at least both women and men, seeing the comments he made about Cullen and the like, but…was this…where the rift was coming from? Was this something that had caused such hatred between him and his family?

"So it's because you…" Zanrye spoke too slowly and Dorian got testy with him.

"Did I stutter?" His eyes narrowed. "Men and the company thereof. As in sex. Surely you've heard of it." He couldn't even help having good comebacks when he was furious beyond coherence. Zanrye tried to re-stabilize himself.

"This isn't…news, Dorian." Zanrye said, trying to keep his voice calmer and his response quick.

"It shouldn't be." Dorian said darkly. "Why anyone should care, I have no idea."

But Zanrye did have an idea why people would care—or, why elves would…but he also knew there was more to this. If he'd learned anything about the different shem cultures, it was that the northerners and those in Orlais could be expected to have those types of quirks. Many would engage with whomever they desired, though reproduction was still had in a large enough capacity. Only in Ferelden were the shems there less likely to behave in that way. He even knew a few Dalish tribes had elves who also shared that quirk and preferred both the women and men on occasion. There had been no such occurrences in his own tribe. That type of thing was not… present in elves untouched by the influence of shems…. In all honesty, his Clan and others would deem this double-taste quirk a "shemmy" thing in itself since it mainly occurred in city elves and was not mentioned at all in the tales of the ancient elven peoples.

"I take it…this is a big problem in Tevinter?" He asked tentatively.

"Only if you're trying to live up to an impossible standard." Dorian said bitterly. "Intermarrying, eugenics…trying to create the perfect mage; perfect body…mind…. Perfect leader."

His anger was palpable and Zanrye could sense a strange kind of…pity…rising within him. Not because he didn't understand where the dad was coming from—already he did. Dalish society viewed these quirks as 'not elfy.' Truth be told, the idea Dorian presented was completely foreign to him—of only connecting to the same sex. The few elves who carried the double-taste irregularity were uncommon. Those like Sera who exclusively enjoyed their own sex…were more than rare. Never in his life had Zanrye encountered that among the Dalish. The double-taste elves ended up continuing on the elven line. He'd never seen what would happen to an odd-taste.

But Dorian's words continued to move him anyway. His situation continued to weigh on Zanrye, who tried to figure why. They hadn't had any of odd-taste in his clan yet this scene resonated with him on another level…. The words seemed to carry with them the echoes of other words, more often said within his own clan and many others.

Not about fondness for one the same as you. But rather for one entirely different….

"Every aberration or deviance is seen as shameful and must be hidden." Dorian spit out the last word and. He seemed to be spewing years of pent up frustration. "He taught me to hate blood magic. 'The resort of the weak mind;' those are his words." He paced. "But what was the first thing you did when your heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?"

The question hung as Dorian's face went from angry to hurt and Zanrye suddenly felt affection for the man that he never felt before. Beyond pity…beyond empathy.

"You tried to—change me." Dorian said. And Zanrye knew instantly what he meant.

"I only wanted what was best for you—" his father started and it took all of Zanrye's self-control not to interject.

"You wanted what was best for you." Dorian shot back. "For you fucking legacy! Anything for that!" His words held hate and he walked from his father, walking to Zanrye, head cast down. He was making moves to leave, Zanrye saw. Leave it…like this.

"You can't…" Zanrye heard himself say softly. "You can't leave it like this Dorian…." The man lowered a glaring gaze at him which Zanrye held. "You…won't forgive yourself." With reluctance, Dorian walked over to where his father stood.

"Why did you come?" He asked flatly.

"I had no wish to drive you to the Inquisition—" the man started.

"You didn't." Dorian said, almost exasperated. "Joining the Inquisition is the right thing to do. And once…I had a father who would have known that."

He was done. He didn't even look at Zanrye as he headed for the door. Zanrye made to follow him when the man spoke.

"Once…my son trusted me…but I betrayed that trust." The man said and Dorian turned back. "I only wanted to talk to you, to hear your voice again…to ask—to ask for forgiveness." The old face was battling tears. Zanrye was shocked to find that his eyes, though dry, stung as well. Dorian looked to him, searching for a path and he nodded to him. He left as Dorian approached the man once more, one final attempt. Zanrye gazed before he left the tavern.

Once outside, away from the drama and in the cool air near the Hinterlands, he realized now the comparison. There were no occurrences of this in the Dalish…yet their racial pride was always grounds for slander…for "fixing" those who did not conform.

And Zanrye wholeheartedly believed in that. All his life he had. The blood of the elf was critical and must never be compromised. The Dalish were their only hope. The city elves were tainted, most of them. And a Dalish who carried such a taint was even worse. He'd spit on those who did, could not even begin to understand them.

Until he became tainted himself…. "Just one," "just this once," "just her," were not good excuses. He and many of his kin had laughed at such and sneered at the city elves who used them or the rumored Dalish exiles who were found out to have acquired a taste for the shemlen.

And now here he was…denying his feelings…while giving into them at every turn, plowing this shem with gifts and attention and consideration. If any in his clan knew (outside of the likes of Nishia or Po if he was alive), he may no longer be able to claim clan Lavellan. He'd never seen it happen…but somehow he knew it to be true. They'd mourn him, berate him, maybe even try to …"change him." 'Why should anyone care,' Dorian had asked. And for the greatest sin for all Dalish, Zanrye could think of every reason for people to care…why they should care. All that happened between them and the shems…their positions in Thedas…. How dare anyone think it okay to compromise the Dalish legacy? How dare he?

And like with Dorian being son of a magister, Zanrye now had position—true importance. The world was looking at him now and every decision would have effects outside of just himself. He would have to represent all Dalish, to carry elves into the light—like the fabled Grey Warden of old (was he a fiction or truth). He knew he needed to show a strong, Dalish union, represent his people right. He couldn't afford to have this deviation…to be chasing after shem fruit. And yet he did…. Yet he wanted to.

Zanrye prayed for Dorian's success with his father as he made his way back to Skyhold.


PRESENT

SKYHOLD

Two days later, Zanrye stormed into Skyhold with Josephine in tow. She kept trying to speak to him but he would not have it. Blood stained his armored front. He walked into the war room and instantly confronted Leliana.

"Please." Josephine was nearly begging. "This can all come to an end without—"

"Josephine, be quiet." Zanrye snapped, voice hard. She glared at him, throwing her hands up. He turned to Leliana. "I want your people to find this contract and destroy it. And if you have to kill any in this 'House Riposte' on the way, do that as well."

"This is not the way I want it to be." Josephine told her friend. "The contract is so old and if we simply reinstate them—"

"When they ordered hits on your people? On you?" Zanrye glared at her.

"This is not the way things are done and this could very well make a bad situation worse." Josephine said earnestly.

"It would be quicker to simply eliminate the threat." Leliana said to them.

"Exactly." Zanrye glared. "We go to this meeting only to be greeted by not the Comte but an imposter—an assassin at that."

"Who you killed though he was only giving us fair warning." Josephine said.

"Fair warning and a threat." Zanrye rolled his eyes at her. "Leliana…if you don't dispatch people, I'll go and do it myself."

"I'm behind you Inquisitor. Josephine wants to go about this the long, hard way." Leliana said, inclining her head towards him, walking to the war room. "Whenever you're ready, I am."

"This is not the best way! There is more risk in that than…you must…" Josephine sighed heavily. "This is too much risk to put on yourselves and the Inquisition. This is my own family affair and I will not let the Inquisition forces face this."

"It's not entirely your decision, Josephine." Leliana said somewhat slyly. "You are the Ambassador and your problems, now that they threaten your life, have become the problems of the Inquisition."

"This matter regards my family's fortunes—"

"I'm not going to have assassins plotting against you or your family line." Zanrye said bluntly.

There was nothing more to be said. Zanrye nodded to Leliana who began walking to the table and bending over notes about the house she'd already accumulated. Josephine stood there, helpless against the two of them, and she sighed, her voice changing, her tactic of argumentation changing.

"I do think that my approach can work." Josephine said simply. "It is my responsibility to oversee my family's affairs, not either of yours."

The guilty approach. It would have worked on him any other time but this time it only had him loosen his stance very slightly but level her with an intense stare.

"I'm not taking control from you." Zanrye said. "It's your family and your own call. But to protect you from danger, as Inquisitor, I am taking steps to protect the organization and one of my most trusted members of it. These assassins are a threat."

Josephine gave him a look of resignation and she shook her head.

"Oh cheer up Josie." Leliana said. "Let us help you. Use whatever reasons you want if you can't stomach us risking resources for you."

The knock on the door startled them all. Zanrye called for the person to come in. A scout. Again. He scurried to Zanrye's side and whispered in his ear. Zanrye sighed and looked to Leliana.

"Get your people on it." He said and then looked at Josephine. "Let me help you." He paused. "Things will turn out fine."

He followed the scout up the tower library, the man chattering away about when Dorian had finally returned and where he was now.

"Alright, alright." Zanrye told him at the entrance to the alcove. "Have some tact and leave us why don't you?"

The scout turned red and scurried off, muttering to himself about procedure. Zanrye sighed and approached the man tentatively. Dorian was gazing out the window, composed but with eyes that were sad and tired. He didn't even acknowledge the Inquisitor's presence before he began.

"He says we're alike." Dorian said, not needed to introduce the 'he' spoken of, "Too much pride. It's funny…once, I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that to me. Now," at this he looks to Zanrye, "now I'm not so certain. Now…I don't know if I can forgive him."

Zanrye held back a sigh and stepped toward the man, leaning against a tower of books himself.

"When you said he tried to change you…that was with magic?" He asked, dreading the answer.

"I refused to marry the girl he chose, put on a show and lock who I was away with the rest of me that was deemed unsavory." Dorian said, eyes on the horizon. "It was no doubt selfish…not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside…for the good of the family." His voice turns as if he can still hardly believe what he's saying, "He was going to do a blood ritual, alter my mind. When I found out, I left."

"Can…blood magic actually do that?" Zanrye's voice was hushed.

"Maybe." The softness of Dorian's voice made Zanrye's body ache. "It could also have left me a drooling vegetable…. He chose that risk…over scandal." He sighed heavily. "I can't imagine who I'd be if it'd happened…I don't…I don't think I'd like that Dorian."

"Are you…are you going to be alright?" He asked. "After all that…was said."

"No." Dorian said hollowly, words piercing to Zanrye's heart like one of Sera's arrows. "Not really." He turned to Zanrye fully now, his face clearing only enough to make room for appreciation. "Thank you for telling me to go…for coming with me. I didn't know what I expected but…now I have something." As Zanrye nodded, Dorian gave a laugh. "Maker knows what you must think of me now—after all that I said…did…."

Zanrye stared at him, and the man stared back with tired eyes, ashamed eyes, eyes that seemed… oddly, to mirror Zanrye's own but were still different; they were battle-weary and seemed to be a little lighter…the burden of fear…no longer present….

"I think…" Zanrye paused. "I think you're very brave, Dorian."

The tevinter mage's eyes lit up and he nearly cocked his head, uttering, "Brave?" Zanrye gave a low nod, not quite able to meet the other man's eyes for a good while. But then he did. He had to —to see what he was not.

"It isn't easy…to abandon tradition." Zanrye said slowly. "Where you lived…being the son of a Magister…." He couldn't keep eye contact. "You chose to walk your own path, to follow the truth rather than denying it…no matter what it meant…in the reality you were born into."

Dorian's gaze told Zanrye that he knew, or at least suspected, that Zanrye was empathetic. He seemed to ponder the words. And then he had a small smile creep onto his face.

"Well," his lofty voice returned though mellower than usual, "I suppose my bravery has earned me the right to drink myself into a stupor. Been that sort of day. But…if you've a mind…or a care…you can join me. Whenever you'd like."

The man left Zanrye on that and the Inquisitor found himself yet rooted, feeling like a friend...but a failure.


PRESENT

VAL ROYEAUX

The news came three days later, just two days before the peace talks were to start. And Josephine had gone to Val Royeaux to formally meet with the traders. It was a success. Everything was a success. For once, Zanrye felt as if he could sigh with relief. It was another matter at least subdued if not altogether taken care of. Now if he could just locate Cassandra before he popped a blood vessel….

He now waited for her at the harbor, where one ship was pulling in. He saw her come out, watched her bid the man she spoke to adieu. Her gaze turned toward the setting sun and the ships moving to and fro. And her eyes were sad. Guilt crept into Zanrye and he felt the urge to go to her and leave her alone as well. But then she leaned against the side…and Zanrye's compulsion to go to her was too great. So he did.

"You'll be able to get your ships in within the month then?" He asked lightly. Josephine didn't move, merely looked out at the water.

"Yes." She said softly. Her face was closed as she followed, "and thus we outwit the house of Riposte." She did not sound happy or sad but longing.

"It's not pleasant…" Zanrye said, almost warily. "But you're safe…and you're free from the Assassins and the nobles…."

"I do know that the Assassin Guild was probably filled with all kinds of unsavory individuals Inquisitor." Josephine said to him softly. "I just…." She said nothing, just looked and Zanrye resigned to look with her. He knew he'd done the right thing…eliminate the threat…but….

"Did I mention…I used to be a bard?" Josephine asked. Zanrye's head turned to hers as her own turned to look on him.

"You were a singer?" He asked, incredulous.

"That is the official job." She said, turning so her back was to the rail and water. "They sing and entertain, converse…spy. It was common for young nobles to practice The Game in such a fashion, through the avenue of a bard."

"And is that why you joined on?" He asked her.

"I was attending university in Val royeaux when I learned about them and their true purposes." Josephine said, smiling now. "There was…an air of romance about them: secrets and stories and fascinating people!" She giggled. "A group of us—young gentry from Antiva—decided on this …exciting life." Zanrye hesitated.

"You seem a bit…" She began to smirk and he had to grin as he finished, "steady…for that type of lifestyle." Her laugh was short but solid.

"It did not suit me well at all." She agreed but then her face darkened and she crossed her arms around herself. "During one intrigue, I…there was another bard who was sent to kill my patron." She looked Zanrye dead in his eyes and he could see the formidableness in her gaze. "We fought, or perhaps scrapped is the appropriate word. Either way…we were at the top of a steep flight of stairs and he drew a knife, the other bard. I—I pushed him, away from me." Her gaze left him face, regret written in her eyes. Zanrye had felt many things for this woman but pity was not really one of them. But it was there now. He paused, and then spoke his mind.

"I don't…see the fault. You protected yourself and your patron from him." He said.

"But it was such a waste!" Josephine said, voice now fierce like he'd never heard it before. Her eyes were grief-stricken but firm. "I took off his mask…I knew him. I…I…" she inhaled. "If I'd stopped to reason, if I'd used my voice instead of scuffling like a common thug…." She exhales and then composes, "I always wonder…even now…who that man could have grown into…."

Zanrye eyed her for a long second before he replied.

"He seemed willing enough to murder you for the Game." He said bluntly. "He seemed willing enough to scrap…. You may have ended up dead had you not acted."

"And yet what could have been gained had I paused…would he have actually used the blade?" Josephine countered. "Death…is a permanent solution to a problem and doesn't always open as many avenues…or carry as far…as the voice does."

"I don't think violence is the answer to everything Josephine." Zanrye said earnestly now. He would not let her eyes wander from his. "I don't think that at all. But I know…I know…what second-guessing can do, what stopping for those moments can do. His death may be a waste, yes, but think of how much greater yours would have been…to everyone in the Inquisition." She blinks, her face softening. "Sometimes, violence is the only way to gain certainty. Words and even contracts can be voided…and then more is lost than one, or two, or ten…lives." He looks down now. "And with this…I stand by my decision. Because I'd rather protect you, and take care of the threat instead of relying on the words of those who show they want to do you harm." He inhales and looks at her, "And I don't want to have to apologize for that…."

He was tense and he saw understanding slip into her eyes. She seemed to weigh his words and she nodded slowly.

"And you don't." She said. "Everything is solved…you acted as you saw fit…and though it may not have been how I wanted, it was still what I wanted." She sighed, scoffing. "I don't even… I don't believe that I have even thanked you. For your part in this. For helping me." And her eyes truly did look like she appreciated him. Zanrye spoke the words before he could process them, the syllables easily slipping from his mouth.

"I've told you that it isn't a favor." He said, his eyes reflecting the intenseness he felt in that moment, staring at her face, beautiful and kind. "I would do this again, in a heartbeat." Her tense neck gave her away. He saw the tinges of red appear in her cheeks, the red that mirrored that of his own ears.

"I…" her voice was breathier and sent chills into Zanrye the moment she uttered one word. "You have done much for us—the Inquisition…and for me in this personal matter, I…."

"Josephine," he half laughed. "You deserve nothing less from me…." He realized he was leaning towards her as he continued, "You're a very…" wonderful, incredible, ideal "remarkable woman, Josephine…." She giggled nervously with him, sounds that had Zanrye swallowed up in seconds, enthralled with her. He couldn't help but to imagine her now as a singer.

"Such talk." She chided softly, attempting to regain composure and failing, her hands coming together before her. "I'm—I'm…quite overcome…." They were very close—at least how Zanrye could see. His voice came out deeper and lower than he thought it would.

"So am I…." He said, eyes earnest, only being able to see her there before him, too close to him by his own doing. She did not reach out to him but seemed to be magnetically pulling him closer and closer to her….

"Zan, I…" Her voice said his name in a dazed tone that at once made Zanrye want to reach out and grab her and kiss her. The urge was strong. His body was reading hers. Her lips, slightly puckered. Her eyes, dilated, keep trailing from your eyes to your body. Her stance, one of tantalizing demureness, her hand bracing on the rail beside them.

"Do you want me to stop?" He practically whispered, the question nearly rhetorical, serving only to heighten the erotic tension already present, his ears ready and needy for her to tell him not to.

"Oh, no." She breathed, her head shaking and a minor swoon taking her. The sight alone nearly drove Zanrye insane and he knew he leaned in further but then her voice kept stuttering out, "I mean—I mean yes!" He paused in his tracks as she kept on gibbering. "I meant no! I mean…I don't…" She stared at him and then out to the sea and just like that the spell was broken. She huffed and turned to face him, hands now clasped before her, composure obtained. "Well. If you meant to draw a blush to my cheeks, you have completely succeeded." She cleared her throat and turned to look ahead towards the road. "Come. Let us…let us return to Skyhold before anyone notices us."

She took lead. Zanrye numbly followed her, his face as red as hers; but there was a self-satisfied smirk present on his face as well.


PRESENT

SKYHOLD

It was only a day before the peace talks when he finally got the notice from Bull. He went down the steps 2/3 at a time and then made it to the old reading room, where Cassandra sat, fresh out of her armor and into her day clothes. She sat, looking at a lit fire. Zanrye was beyond relieved. But he was also annoyed. He walked in and stood before her.

"Well?" He asked her. Cassandra slowly looked up at him. "Where have you been?"

"There was…something I needed to do." Cassandra said slowly.

"Cassandra, you can't just run off." Zanrye said testily. "I needed you here—as did everyone else. Where the hell where you? No word? No warning? You didn't think that I would come looking for you—that I'd be worried that something happened to you? What were you trying to accomplish? And why be secretive about it to begin with?"

Cassandra's head turned to look upon him and Zanrye was stopped midrant by her expression. But they were both warriors. They understood the need for something comprehensive, not an abstract throwaway like the one Cassandra had given.

"Where did you go?" He asked finally, arms crossed, leaning against a beam supporting the roof above them.

"You remember when I told you of my brother Anthony?" Cassandra asked.

"Yes. Dragon hunters…." Zanrye responded.

"Yes…" She gave a dry laugh. "The profiles of those the Seekers needed to take out have become my own dragons now…among other things." She sighed. "I can never thank you enough for your help…taking care of those apostates and templars."

"That was months ago." Zanrye said to her, voice engaging but thin. "That's old news. I'm worried about what's been happening now…why you ran off. You said we'd gotten all of—"

"We did." Cassandra cut him off. "And yet…the reason behind us having to take on those cases was because of the Seeker's silence on the matter."

Her face was closed and she sighed heavily, her burdens coming to bear. Another burden. Another problem. Zanrye sat beside her now and laced his hands together. He waited for her, saying nothing. Finally, she began to speak.

"I…should have told you where I was going. For that I apologize." Cassandra said. "But I knew you would be alright without me for a few days. I did not think I would be gone for more." She sighed. "I was tracking down the Seekers."

"How could you do that?" Zanrye asked. "The Lord Seeker—"

"Is but one member of the Order." Cassandra said. "And even he, the true Lord Seeker Lucius, has escaped us. When the red Templars attacked Haven, not one seeker was in their midst. The Seekers seem to have vanished from the face of Thedas."

"Why do you want to find them now?" Zanrye asked. "I understand this is your…old order outside the Inquisition but…why now?" She sighs long at this question and looks to him with a grave expression.

"I have a growing suspicion that Corypheus has imprisoned the Seekers." She said.

"Imprisoned?" Zanrye asked dubiously. "Not killed?"

"They could in fact be dead." Cassandra said. "But I cannot yet believe they are."

"And you think Corypheus has them somehow imprisoned?" Zanrye couldn't understand this theory quite yet.

"Resources. Just like with the Templars." She explained.

"Then they could be infected like the Templars." He said seriously.

"Seekers do not use lyrium Zanrye." Cassandra said, a bit annoyed she had to remind him. "If he wished to corrupt the Seekers, lyrium must be forced upon them." She looks ahead. "That may have happened…but it would not have begun that way." She rubs her head. "There's… something missing here."

Zanrye looked to his Second, his Seeker, his right-hand, his…friend.

"Finding them means a lot to you." He stated, eyeing her knowingly.

"I may have left the order but I will not abandon them." Cassandra said firmly. "And the seekers started the war against the mages. They would not have simply vanished." She paused now and her voice changed slightly; she adopted a bartering tone. "I cannot assure that rescuing them would benefit us. They certainly would not look upon the Inquisition favorably. However, if there is even a chance that we may…"

Zanrye exhaled loudly but had to turn a smile on the woman.

"If you want to find them, we'll find them Cassandra." He said kindly and he saw the woman's face soften as he lent his approval and offered his help in the same breath.

"If we could." She said. "I know that we have other duties to attend to…."

"Right." Zanrye remembered and gave her a glare that was light. "We have to prepare for the peace talks with Celene and Gaspard. For the next two days, I need you to put the Seekers out of your mind and focus with Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine about making sure our people get in there, making sure we're set up, making sure we know all we need to know; you know how this all goes."

"Of course." Cassandra huffed and shook her head. "Never a moment's rest."

"Not when you're in my small council." Zanrye promised her and then stood but came to rest a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him. "We'll deal with this as soon as the threat to Celene has been handled. I give you my word, Cassandra." She nodded, a small smile on her lips. "All that you've gathered from your tracking, you write down and give to Leliana and she can dispatch people while we're away alright?"

"Yes Inquisitor." She said, standing as well, her face fierce with appreciation and hope. Zanrye moved his hand from her but the support was there. He sighed. She hesitated. "You…may want to sit out of the meetings until tomorrow…. You look like you could do with some sleep."

The comment made Zanrye laugh—too loud. Cassandra was startled but he kept laughing, his tiredness presumably making him delirious.

"I'll do that." He grinned, rubbing his eyes. "You can all inform me of the plans tomorrow." He made his way to the door and then stopped in front of it, turning to her. "And I don't want to hear of any more problems until then. Much as I like you all, I am thoroughly done with listening and tending to the needs of the masses." And with that, he went to his room and made sure to doubly latch both doors.


Helpful Information

RECAP

We have arrived at the Winter Palace segment. (not doing bull or sera's quests)

SEMANTIC/NONSEMANTIC

Information about the Dalish is scarce but the idea that they do not acknowledge and rarely ever practice bisexuality (and would most likely not tolerate exclusive homosexuality) is mostly lore-driven. [See gay/bixexual elven figures in DA:O, DAII, and DAI as well as vague information in World of Thedas].

Elven racism and adherence to reproductive powers is also lore-driven. The worst thing an elf can do is be with a non-elf, a shem being the worst possible choice. Elven blood is also sacred and because their children do not carry their phenotype, they are even more sensitive and disparaging to elf+other matings. (of course this view varies from clan to clan, though the overwhelming majority [as my Clan Lavellan is made to represent] have this view)

NON-INQUISITION CAST:

Tiana- (girl) Clan Biloro

Keeper Mithlanel= (boy) Clan Biloro