"My agents have found no trace of Solas. He has simply vanished."
"Unless he wants to be found, he won't be." Matril shook his head at Leliana.
"You know more than you let on, Inquisitor." Leliana raised an eyebrow.
"I try to, generally." He shrugged. "But in this, I have only supposition." He frowned. "I think it is a truth that would cause only misery upon revelation anyway."
#
Dorian was in high spirits, basking in the hero's worship he was receiving. It was good, watching him enjoy himself. "I'm happy you're here, after all that's happened..." Matril smiled.
"I fully expected to die." Dorian waved his glass of wine. "It would have been thematically appropriate. And you." He tapped the glass against Matril's chest. "You could have been a martyr. Oh, the songs they would have composed."
"There will still be songs." He glanced over his shoulder. "Varric and Brehan have already put their heads together."
"Yes, but they won't have the same gravitas." He brushed Matril's hair back. "We'll just have to be satisfied with being alive. And together." He hesitated a moment. "I've decided to return to Tevinter. Perhaps not right away - too many interesting things here. Plus there's you. It'll be hard enough to leave, but I certainly won't until I'm through with you."
Matril laughed. "Or I'm through with you."
"Oh please." Dorian rolled his eyes. "We both know that won't happen."
#
He smiled as he listened. The Inquisitor sang for them, his voice strong. There had been a few surprised faces. But then, the man was a bard. Dorian half closed his eyes, letting the song wash over him.
When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of Leliana standing next to him. She gave a small shake of her head. "He sings with an Orlesian accent."
"It's an Orlesian song." Dorian chuckled. "Ask him to sing Andraste's Mabari, and everyone here will swear he's Ferelden."
She took a deep breath. "There is a case of Agreggio if you can give me a lead."
Dorian leaned in close. "He's not from Kal'Hirol."
Leliana narrowed her eyes at him before walking away.
#
"Seriously." Varric folded his arms. "How many of your identities owe me money?"
"He saved the world, Varric." Dorian spread his own arms. "Surely any perceived debt has been more than paid."
"Clearly you've never negotiated with the Dwarven Merchant's Guild." Matril shook his head at Dorian before returning his gaze to Varric. "Let's talk about the money I'm owed."
"What money?" Varric scoffed.
"Alright, money may be a strong term in this particular case, but I am in possession of a writ entitling me to the liver and several other vital organs of one Gamlen Amell, unless he pays the money owed for the loss of merchandise provided."
"What merch..." Varric narrowed his eyes. "Tell me you weren't behind those wandering hills?"
"He fell for the wandering hills ploy?" Matril blinked. "Maker's breath, that's bad even for Kirkwall."
"Hey!"
"No, those 'lyrium infused charms'."
"The ones he tried selling to the templars?" Varric snickered.
"Wait..." Cullen's voice came from behind them. Varric and Matril both winced. "The ones that spontaneously exploded?"
"Cullen." Matril folded his arms. "Are you insinuating that templars would be foolish enough to fall for what is so obviously a scam?"
"That's pretty low." Varric shook his head. "You would think you'd have a little more respect for men and women you personally served with."
"You were their knight-captain, Cullen." Matril gave him a disapproving look. "Surely you trained them well enough to know just how dangerous lyrium can be."
"Frankly, it's insulting that you could even imply such a thing." Varric glared.
"You know, I've half a mind to tell them what he said." Matril looked down at Varric.
"Do you know what something like that could do to morale around here?" Varric's eyes widened. "These people just won a victory. They deserve for their commanding officer to have more faith in them."
"Agreed." Matril turned back to Cullen. "Commander, I'm severely disappointed in you."
"I'm sorry, Inquisitor." Cullen shook his head. "I don't know what -"
Both Varric and Matril winced as Leliana walked past, smacking them both in the back of the head before continuing on her way.
#
"So you'll be Divine." He raised an eyebrow.
"Brehan has volunteered to remain, to take over my duties as spymaster." Leliana smiled. "Not that you could not handle such, but I think you will be busy with other duties."
"It's going to be a pleasure working with you, Divine Nightingale."
"I look forward to what the future brings, Inquisitor Mouse."
#
He was almost to the door when he heard a voice behind him. "Going somewhere, Amatus?" He turned to see Dorian walking toward him. "You didn't think one brief chat would be enough, did you?" Dorian's smile was just a touch wicked.
"Did you need me for something...?" He gave a smile of his own.
"I do. Come with me." Dorian caught him by the front of his jacket and pushed him through the door.
#
The warm sun came in through the stained-glass windows. Someone had replaced all the draperies around the room. "See?" Dorian smiled. "Much better." Matril started to open his mouth, and Dorian put his hand over it. "Yes, yes, I'm sure you have all the things to say." Dorian shook his head. "Two things in private before you run off. First, you are terribly dull, and I hate you."
Matril just shook his head at Dorian before walking toward the balcony. The sun was starting to set outside. "And what's the second?" He leaned on the railing.
Dorian came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Matril and resting his head on Matril's shoulder. "I hope this ends soon."
He smiled as he leaned back against Dorian. They stood for some time, watching the sun go down. "You may be the worst liar I've ever met."
"Come now. There's Cassandra and Cullen."
"True."
#
He woke with Matril in his arms. The blond locks were once again in disarray, and Dorian smiled as he brushed them from Matril's face. When the green eyes opened, Dorian leaned down and kissed Matril. "Good morning, Amatus."
"Callum."
Dorian blinked. "Pardon?"
Matril met his eyes. "Callum Tevan ni Vael."
"I..." Dorian's eyes widened. "That's your real name?"
"That's the name I was given when I was born." He smiled, and took Dorian's hand. "Starkhaven." He shrugged. "Yes, those Vaels. I think I'm actually something like fourth in line for that throne these days."
"Your true identity, at last." Dorian smiled.
"No." Matril shook his head, then leaned in to murmur in Dorian's ear. "My real name has been Matril since the first time you whispered it."
"The things you say..." Dorian kissed him.
#
Jerath heard a twig snap behind him, and turned. "You?"
"Warden Tabris." The Inquisition's elven mage, Solas, stepped into the ruins, his staff in his hand. "I am sorry. It was not supposed to happen this way."
"What are you..." Jerath frowned.
"We do not need to be enemies. When we met in Redcliffe, I sensed..." He took a deep breath. "Do you know me?"
He frowned at the name. One of the memories that was not his whispered a name, and he exhaled. "Fen'Harel."
"Yes." The Dread Wolf nodded. "I did not believe what I had sensed at first, until..." He looked Jerath over. "Razikale."
In the back of his mind he felt Morrigan's fear. Jerath closed the walls around his mind, shutting off the link that bound them together before sending a command to Nathaniel. Stay there. Keep them safe. I'm sorry. He closed his eyes, and then nodded. "Flemeth is dead then?" Jerath raised an eyebrow.
Fen'Harel tilted his head, and then nodded sadly. "It was necessary."
"Which of us are you trying to convince?" Jerath shook his head.
"Razikale..." Fen'Harel took another step towards him. "You remember what our people were. You remember Arlathan."
"I don't need to remember. All I need to do is look around. Orlais. Tevinter. Antiva." Jerath laughed. "Pretend there is any difference if you wish. All that's changed is the shape of the nobility's ears." He set his hand on the hilt of the dragonbone blade.
"You know you are no match for me. Not here. Not now." His eyes began to glow. "Come with me."
There was silence for a moment, and then Jerath shook his head. "You, of all people, should know better than to ask. All your supposed wisdom, and you would risk the likes of me forgetting purpose." His own eyes went solid black, and dark veins appeared beneath his skin. His voice deepened, taking on a strangely reverberating undertone. "Come, hound. The music plays."