Sorry for the delay, darlings! Have some Skyhold. :)

Where the Earth Touches the Sky

Even a week later, Finn still hadn't fully adjusted to Skyhold.

A moment ago, he'd come across Josephine bustling through the main hall, stepping over a stray piece of broken wood and looking harried; once asked what the matter was, she'd said the amount of repairs Skyhold needed was beyond overwhelming. Then she'd smoothed her expression over and asked if Finn would like to see some of the completed repairs—Finn had agreed on the spot, sensing her need to have someone to talk to.

At present, she led him through Skyhold's upper grounds; Finn gingerly stepped around a muddy puddle in the middle of the cold, moist grass.

"If you haven't visited yet, the new tavern is there," she said, pointing; Finn looked over at the grey stone building, catching muted strain's of a minstrel's singing inside. "We just finished those repairs yesterday, thank the Maker—everyone has been clamoring for a place to drink."

"I can't imagine why," Finn teased, chuckling.

"I do suppose everyone needs a place to settle their nerves after what happened in Haven," Josephine conceded, patting the back of her braided up-do to make sure every hair was still in place. She turned to briefly look at him, her amber eyes warm. "How are you faring? I'll admit...I was worried when I saw you so hurt."

"Just fine," Finn told her with a smile. She'd actually asked him that before—several times—but it wasn't like he minded. He knew she wasn't scatterbrained and hadn't forgotten she'd asked before; she probably just wanted to make sure he wasn't faking it.

"Good." Josephine smiled softly in return. "I must say, it has been a headache trying to find suitable quarters for everyone here… Warden Blackwall keeps insisting he sleep in the barn with all the horses, Commander Cullen's quarters up on the battlements still don't have a proper roof, and your sister wants to sleep in one of the garden's trees instead." Her eyes flickered, calculating. "Would you be so kind as to give me your specifications before I accidentally find you ill-suited quarters?"

"I'm not too picky," Finn said. He gestured in front of them. "You could always put me over the tavern." It was more of a joke than anything else; he didn't even know if there was a room over the tavern. The stench of ale wafting upwards might get old after a while, but at least he'd be right where all the action and gossip took place.

"You jest, but there is a room." Josephine strode forward, motioning for him to follow. "Come."

Miracles did happen.

Finn kept pace with her as she pushed open the tavern's door and stepped daintily inside. He noticed immediately what this tavern was lacking—namely the stenches of ale breath and sweat. Not a terrible thing to be missing. It did have several polished wooden tables and benches arranged around a central hearth, in front of which a minstrel plucked at her lute and sang a song Finn couldn't quite listen to due to its rapidity. It looked nice in here, warm, inviting; Finn breathed in deeply as he followed Josephine up the stairs, inhaling the scents of lumber and liquor.

He caught a quick glimpse of a corner room on the second floor just before Josephine led him up the next set of stairs; in it was Sera, lounging on the bay window seat, propped up by what looked like a thousand pillows of a thousand wild colors. There was a cabinet inside, one door swung open, contents spilling out onto the floor; not to mention the slashed fabric drapes hanging around the window itself.

Finn gave a bemused shake of his head and ascended the stairs after Josephine.

She led him up and around, finding a dust-covered door at the back of the third floor; Finn oriented himself, realizing just as she opened the door that the room they were entering likely rested on the battlements.

And it was a righteous mess.

He stepped inside, taking it all in. Crumbling, toppled stacks of old, dust-ridden wood planks on the floors, missing pieces of roof, a couple of paintings sitting against the wall completely smashed, no bed—Finn coughed and waved a cloud of dust out of his face, squinting to see through the dirty air.

"I do apologize for the disarray," Josephine said, frowning.

"No, don't worry about it," Finn said amicably. "This'll work just fine once it's cleaned." He moved towards the wood pile, intending to start clearing it out, but Josephine gently grabbed his left bicep, stopping him.

"Please don't strain yourself, Finn," she insisted. "I will have workers begin repairing the room at once."

Finn glanced down at her russet hand on his arm; she let it linger there for a moment, then dropped it. Josephine had a sweet face and warm disposition, but beneath that was a sort of soft, determined will that managed to coax everything into her favor without anyone being the wiser.

Such were the ways of a trained diplomat.

"If you say so," he said with a smile. It wouldn't have strained him in the slightest, but… "I won't exactly argue. What else is on the agenda for today, then?"

Josephine returned the smile, approvingly. "Lady Lavellan and Lady Cassandra had one of the men hammer up a bulletin board in the antechamber where my desk is, so your sister can post missives—you might go see that, if you like. In the meantime, I must go make sure the workers are on schedule. Good day."

"On dhea'him," Finn said.

She left the room, and Finn could just hear her trotting down the stairs.

He remained in the room a moment longer, taking it all in. The Dalish didn't have rooms; before Haven, he'd never slept in something such as this. He was more accustomed to the flimsy tents when they ventured on an expedition, even now. To have four sturdy walls and a roof (eventually…) over his head… he knew many of his clansmen would quail at the confinement, but Finn rather liked it.

"Well, someone's moving up in the world," Varric said; Finn turned and watched him stride into the room, twirling a pen in his fingers.

"Literally," Finn said, gesturing at the stairs. "That's cute, Varric."

"You catch on quick, Frosty." Varric chuckled, taking another step inside and studying the décor. "What would you call this? Abandoned-disaster-chic?"

"What, you don't like the fabulously ripped drapery?" Finn crossed over to the rotting bed frame and plucked up a scrap of brownish fabric, feelings its threadbare roughness between his fingers. "What's the matter with you? I'm told this is all the rage in Antiva."

Varric snorted. "Who told you that? Ruffles? Fireball?"

Finn knew the first referred to Josephine, but the second… "Who?"

"Warden-Commander Nalida," Varric said, nudging aside a scrap of wood with his foot. "Don't ever snore near the guy. You've been warned. I nearly got all my hair burnt off."

"Is that what happened to your beard?" Finn teased.

"So the elf makes a beardless dwarf joke. Ah…just like old times." Varric got a bit of a nostalgic look on his face, then turned and deliberately shut the door behind him, turning once more to face Finn. "I need someone I can trust, Frosty. And you're the most trustworthy guy I can think of right now."

"Aww." Finn pretended to swoon. "You flatter me."

"Cut the crap." Varric laughed, but his expression very quickly deadened into a more serious one. "With all that's been happening with Corypheus, finding out his identity and him tearing Haven down and bringing the fight to our door, I decided I couldn't sit around and not help. Not after what he did to your sister. So…I reached out to an old friend of mine."

"Who?" Finn asked, even though he was fairly certain he knew the answer.

"Hawke," Varric said.

There was silence for a moment. Finn inhaled slowly through his nose.

River Hawke. The Champion of Kirkwall. The name every free mage cried when they rushed into battle.

"And what did you ask her?" Finn said. "Did you ask her to write back with answers, or to come to Skyhold? Because we both know Cassandra will rip you a new one if she finds out—"

"If she got my letter, then she's on her way here right now," Varric answered, sighing heavily. "I know, I know—Seeker won't be happy about this. That's why I came to you, Frosty; if she does toss me off the battlements, I need someone to get Hawke out of here alive. But this has to happen. Hawke personally knows how powerful Corypheus is."

Finn debated asking him to elaborate, but decided he'd have the opportunity to ask River herself, soon enough.

"Cassandra wouldn't hurt Hawke," Finn reassured him instead. "At least, I don't think she would. She's reasonable."

"We'll see. Varric didn't look convinced. "I may need to hide her in—"

The door creaked open, and in strode Dorian and Iron Bull, both squabbling about something. Bull had to duck to fit through the door frame.

"There you are," Dorian greeted when he saw Finn, visibly relaxing. "I've been looking all over for you. Some horned flummox," he shot Bull a scathing look, "has been pestering me senseless about giving in and admitting the Qun is better than Tevinter."

"You'll give in eventually," Bull said confidently, looking about the room. "Damn. This place could use a pick-me-up."

"What're you going to do, give it whiskey?" Finn joked.

Bull laughed. "I can't think of a better pick-me-up than that, buddy." He looked down at Varric, who didn't look up, probably to avoid the strain of craning his neck so far back. "Say, Varric—you up for a drink?"

"Always." Varric nodded his goodbyes to Finn and Dorian, then followed Bull out the door.

Finn looked up at Dorian, who was studying the room with an increasing air of disgust.

"Dorian—" Finn started.

"What is this monstrosity?" Dorian scoffed.

"Dorian."

"No, Finn, look at this." Dorian pointed to a painting leaning against the wall, the only painting that hadn't been damaged by time and decay. "That is singularly the most horrendous piece of art I have ever seen."

Finn took the time to actually look at it, and couldn't help agreeing, secretly—the thing was a painting of a bald man's bust, in a strange stylized fashion, and it was so random and out-of-place that Finn couldn't help bursting into laughter over it.

"All right, all right…it's gross," he admitted. "I'm assuming Josephine will have it removed, though."

"I would expect no less of her," Dorian said. "Really, we can't have you sleeping in such squalor."

"It's not forever," Finn said. "They'll clean it. Hey—I've been meaning to head into the antechamber outside the war room and check the new board they put up. Just to make sure there aren't any impending journeys to go on. You want to join me?"

"Always," Dorian said with a smile.

Finn was making a valiant effort to concentrate on the handwritten messages pinned to the board, but it was rather difficult with the way Dorian's practiced hands massaged his shoulders into a near gelatinous state.

It was a good thing Josephine wasn't at her desk; Finn had let a couple of short, contented huffs slip out already.

He skimmed his finger along the board; there were only two notes pinned to it. The first had been a request from Warden Blackwall that they search around for some ancient Warden artifacts he'd caught wind of scattered across Ferelden and Orlais, to which Nanyehi had written If we're in these areas, we'll take a look directly beneath it. The second…Finn squinted to read the ornate handwriting.

Finirial, if you would, please meet with me today. I have business to discuss with you.
~ First Enchanter Vivienne

"Do you have any idea what she wants to see you for?" Dorian asked from behind Finn, his hands working out knots at the base of Finn's neck.

"None," Finn blurted out, then thought a moment. "I lied. That's not true. Cassandra had mentioned getting me dispensation from the Chantry so I won't be brought in for apostasy. Maybe that's what this is about?"

"Or maybe she wants to chastise you for your choice of footwear," Dorian said.

"That might be more likely," Finn said, laughing. At the mention of his feet, he brushed the bottom of one against the opposite leg. As much as he'd enjoy standing here and getting a shoulder rub for literally the rest of his life, he knew he couldn't keep Vivienne waiting. "I should go, I think."

"If you must."

Dorian dropped his hands at the exact moment Sera burst through the door, a quill and small jar of ink clutched in her hands. She regarded Finn and Dorian for one bored-looking moment, then her expression turned devious as she found Blackwall's note pinned to the board and began scribbling with enthusiastic fervor.

Finn's curiosity got the better of him.

"Are you responding to Blackwall's note, or…?" he asked, trailing off.

Sera snorted. "I'm sketching, Finnie. Need to have something to do around here, what with everyone moaning about Haven and Coryphe-arse." She stuck her tongue through her teeth in a sort of concentration, continuing to draw.

Finn peered over her shoulder to look at the drawing. Then he slowly backed away, turned, and left the room without a word.

"I didn't get a chance to see it," Dorian told him, striding after him and letting the door slam shut behind them both. "What was she sketching?"

"Count yourself lucky," Finn said, shaking his head. "It was a crudely-drawn arse with Blackwall's beard on it. Frankly, I will never un-see that."

"Maker's breath." Dorian chuckled under his breath as both of them entered the main hall. "You poor thing. Hopefully someone tears that note down before it blinds anyone."

"I wish I was blind," Finn joked.

"Somehow, I get the sense that isn't the case." Dorian stopped Finn near the main hall's exit; there were various people milling in and around the hall, so he reduced his farewell to a quick squeeze of Finn's shoulders. "Don't forget to tell me how your wardrobe-trashing session goes."

Finn rolled his eyes. "I'm fairly certain I'm seeing her for something less petty, Dorian."

"So you say." Dorian smiled, then turned away and headed up to the library, leaving Finn to head down the ramp and onto the grounds.

It took Finn a few minutes to locate Vivienne. On the way, he took in Skyhold's sights—soldiers sparring with each other in battered armor, the occasional stablehand walking a horse and tugging it along each time it tried to drop its head and graze, nurses kneeling among wounded men and women lying on blankets in the grass. When he did find her standing out on the grounds and inspecting her fingers, her white robes immaculately spotless and the horned hennin at the top of her head polished until it glinted, she noticed him immediately and looked up.

"I'm glad you found my note," she said. Her eyes crinkled somewhat. "Darling, you look dreadful. Are you quite all right?"

Here Finn had been thinking he actually looked pretty good today. But no; she very likely was referring to the injuries he was healing from, if he was any judge.

"Getting better every day," he said. "Did you have something you wanted from me?"

"Not precisely, my dear." She studied him with her keen brown eyes for a moment. "I would refer to it as more of an...arrangement. Cassandra tells me you have the makings of a knight-enchanter, and described to me in great detail how you took a pride demon's lightning whip back at the temple. So, I have a proposal for you—I would be more than willing to take you on as a student, provided you prove yourself as an attentive one."

Finn considered it. The techniques were originally elven, but he knew he'd have a difficult time finding a Dalish mage who could teach it to him. Not to mention Vivienne was a First Enchanter and knew the ins and outs of training mages.

"I would really appreciate that," Finn said.

Vivienne gave a smile. "Excellent. No sense in dawdling, then—to be a knight-enchanter, you must have an extraordinarily deep mana reserve. Now, I'd like you to imagine this mana reserve as a muscle. It can be strengthened, and it can atrophy. What I want you to do with this knowledge is spend the next few days strengthening and expanding these reserves."

"And how would you recommend I do that?" he asked.

"Practice, darling." Vivienne held out her palm, summoning a crisp, crystalline globe of white ice. "The more you use these mana reserves, the deeper they run. As often as you can, I want you to be spellcasting, just as I'm doing here. When you run out of mana, wait a minute or so, and start again. This is absolutely essential to becoming a knight-enchanter."

Finn mimicked her, summoning a globe of blue-white ice.

"No, no, no." Vivienne gave a lilting, very Orlesian laugh. "Your ice magic is too easy for you to do. It won't strengthen you. Focus on elements you don't have as much control over."

Balls, Finn really wanted to curse. Ice magic was easy for him to summon, ridiculously so—although, thinking about it, that probably wasn't the point of this assignment.

"You're right." He clenched his palm, concentrated, and summoned a sparking ball of flame instead. It licked at his hand, brushing his skin with its heat, making him want to flinch away to avoid getting burned.

"Very good." Vivienne nodded once. "I will expect to see progress from you the next time we meet. For now, though, I must be attending to business. Au revoire, my lord Lavellan."

Finn voiced a quick farewell, standing there in the middle of the grass with his hand on fire and wondering who might come by and inform him he was burning.

Finn's hand was still on fire half an hour later, when he saw hordes of people gathering by the long, crooked ramp that led into the main hall.

He'd already been approached twice and asked if he was aware of his predicament. One nurse had even come up to him with a pail of water ready to fling, to which he'd quickly reassured her that no, he was a mage, and this burning-hand-trick was entirely intentional. The majority of people passing by, though, gave him queer looks and continued on their way.

It occurred to him that he could've found some way to amuse himself during this half hour—reading a book or chatting with a friend, perhaps—but he found himself worried about burning pages, and couldn't find any of his friends nearby to speak to.

Regardless, there was plenty of commotion to keep his attention now. He neared the throng of people, keeping a requisite distance to avoid startling any of them, and watched Leliana appear from within the main hall, a greatsword balanced horizontally on her two flat palms.

Finn spotted Dorian standing with Varric and Sera in the crowd; as if he could feel Finn's eyes on his back, Dorian turned around, raised an eyebrow, then excused himself from them and joined Finn at the back of the gathering.

"Need I ask?" Dorian said, standing beside Finn and eyeing his burning hand.

"Knight-enchanter training," Finn replied. "What's going on here?"

Dorian swiped a finger through the globe of flame above Finn's palm, the biting heat not bothering him in the slightest. "The people have been begging for someone to be named Inquisitor, as you well know," Dorian informed him; yes, Finn knew, he'd been hearing it all over the place. "Well, as luck would have it, they've finally done it just now. And they've named Nanyehi."

It didn't surprise Finn at all, what with everything Nani had done—falling out of the Breach with the green Anchor on her hand, ending the mage-Templar war by announcing the mages as free allies, preventing Corypheus from following them through the secret path up the mountain, dragging herself back to camp, scouting ahead of them all and finding Skyhold. It was rather heartwarming that despite her Dalish heritage, all of these people still plainly saw her as their Maker-sent savior. He watched her step lithely up the steps beside Cassandra to join Leliana, her dark red hair fluttering in the breeze.

She caught his eyes in the crowd when she reached the top, but this time, he realized she wasn't looking to him for affirmation; she actually gave him a confident smile before looking away.

"Inquisition!" Nani yelled, and the crowd's chatter ceased. "Corypheus may have dealt a blow against us, but we will not stop! We will not bow! And we will not break! No matter who we may have been coming into this, we are now allied to stop Corypheus! Stand with me!"

Vir bor'assan, Finn thought in response. Bend, but never break.

A whooping cheer rolled through the crowd.

Seeing his sister up there reminded Finn of the way she used to lead hunting parties; smart, strategic, confident, wicked with her bow. Getting sucked into the Breach had dealt a blow to her confidence as well…but here she stood, now, addressing an entire crowd of shemlen when previously she would have hid and sneered at them from the darkness.

Cullen stepped to the front of the crowd and unsheathed his longsword, holding it high. "Will you follow?" he shouted; the crowd cheered again in answer. "Will you fight?" A third round of cheering. Then he turned around to face Nanyehi once more, and she grasped the greatsword from Leliana, lifting it high in the air so its silvery tip stabbed the blue sky.

The answering cheer was deafening, and Finn let the ball of flame in his hand extinguish.

His eyes met Nani's once more, and both of them smiled.