Summary: Madanach heads to the Montsimmard Circle for negotiations, only to find the Templars there had their own ideas about ending the strike - ideas which turn out to have been not among their better ones. Fortunately Madanach has better luck... but the most taxing negotiations don't involve the strike itself, but Cicero Senior's return from captivity.

A/N: It's largely one big scene but there's loads here. The strike negotiations, Madanach in a Circle, two Ciceros... and a few other things I'm sure you'll like. Do you like Templars being given the runaround? There's a lot of that. :)


Magic was a marvellous, marvellous thing. It meant Madanach could shapeshift into his eagle form, fly out to Montsimmard, spend only two days doing it, land in the Inquisition base near the Circle tower, requisition a small honour guard then follow Eola's notes to open a portal that allowed a fully armed Orc bodyguard to come through, a few of Josephine's administrators following.

Said Orc glanced at the nervous Inquisition soldiers, wondering what their problem was.

"Portal magic apparently unnerves them," Madanach explained, glancing at the sacrificed nug and motioning for a couple of recruits to clear up. "Just wait until we build a wayshrine."

"Viv'll love that," Borkul laughed. "Yeah, we're just going to build this portal link to Skyhold in your Circle, hope you don't mind."

"Maybe not in the Circle, but this base is getting made more permanent, and it's getting a wayshrine, I already told Cullen to start making arrangements," Madanach said, getting to his feet and brushing his robes off. "Honestly, sending things on the back of a cart all that way. Like we're back in the third era or something."

Borkul didn't quite see what a change in era had to do with better magic, but he didn't argue. He followed Madanach to the Montsimmard Circle, Inquisition soldiers behind them, and it turned out the Templars on the door had no idea what to do with them.

"Oh! Messere, I… the Circle is closed to casual visitors right now. There has been an incident..."

"I know about the incident and I'm not a casual visitor," Madanach said tersely. "In case the Inquisition uniforms didn't give it away, you're talking to His Worship Lord Madanach, Seneschal of Skyhold and Deputy Inquisitor. We've been led to believe we're not getting our potions and enchantments due to the Formari going on strike for better pay and conditions."

Madanach couldn't really see their faces behind the helmets but the body language said it all.

"Messere, we apologise, we had no idea you'd been dragged into this personally, we believed the First Enchanter would be returning. We've sent word but… we've had no response. Messere, they're out of control!"

"They've blocked off half the tower, and whenever we try to get near, there are traps! Gases! It's a mercy no one has been killed! And it's not even magic! Our Templar abilities are useless! And… messere, somehow they have taken our weapons. All the swords, maces, bows, arrows, all vanished. We are undone if this gets out. Undone!"

A little frisson of amusement from the troops at his back, some of whom were ex-Circle mages themselves. Borkul was barely hiding his laughter. Madanach could barely keep the smile off his own face.

"That's awful," Madanach said, trying not to laugh. "Well, it seems we can help each other out. You want order restored and your things back. We want our supplies. Happily, I think we can resolve this for you. If you're so kind as to let us in, I can make this whole mess go away for you. How does that sound?"

Madanach had literally never seen Templars that happy to see him before. Before he knew it, he was being ushered in, being escorted to a Knight-Commander who actually seemed apologetic.

"Messere, if I had known the Inquisition would end up attending to this personally..."

"Don't apologise, it sounds like this is past overdue my attention," Madanach sighed… and then he glanced at the Templar barricade, seeing Templars wielding kitchen knives and whatever they'd been able to improvise weapons wise, and an infirmary down the hall where Chantry sisters and healer mages were tending to injured Templars. Most seemed to be having shards of metal or glass removed, or were recovering from the after effects of poison gas, but he saw one having an ebony arrow removed, and there were a few bloodied crossbow bolts lying on a trolley, clearly having been removed from someone.

"It's come to violence already?" Madanach said, alarmed. Cicero was a malevolent little troll, but one who could follow orders. Madanach hadn't expected any casualties, not yet.

"We weren't expecting them to fight back," the Knight-Commander admitted. "We planned to just beat that mage into submission, him and his excuse for a Templar, and arrest the pair of them, then force the Formari back to work. How were we to know they'd craft traps and steal our weapons? And arrows? Where did they learn to shoot? We don't let them near weapons normally!"

Madanach clenched his fists, shoved down his magic, reminded himself not to make any sudden moves around the Templars and carefully got his emotions under control.

"Anything can be a weapon if you know how to use it," Madanach said. "And they know how to use their crafting gear. Also some of them are quite cunning, it turns out, and I've been informed one of them has a kinsman visiting. A kinsman who's very good with a bow and who'll use it if pressed. Apparently he has been. Tell me, anyone on your side dead?"

"No," the Knight-Commander admitted. "The Revered Mother says they'll live."

"Right, right. And you say it was a Templar decision to break the strike with violence, they didn't start it."

"Of course they didn't, Tranquil can't fight," the Knight-Commander snorted, before glancing at the infirmary. "Or so we thought. Ugh, it's this rabble infiltrating and stirring them up. They were never any trouble before this, never! Even LaRose only ever made the odd awkward remark. We wrote it off as him getting senile or not knowing what he was saying."

"Oh, he knew," Madanach said softly, glancing at the doors to the Tranquil quarters. They were protected by a cunningly wrought barricade made of melted down scrap metal with spikes pointing outwards, and behind it could be seen several robed Tranquil, all watching this with interest… or watching at least, their faces were the usual blankness expected from a Tranquil. But they were listening. "Listen, we need our supplies. We've got a siege to launch! But… our Ambassador seems to think we can negotiate, and I agree. Will you stand your men down so I can talk to them?"

"Your Worship, with all due respect, the danger… we cannot let the Herald's husband come to harm!"

Madanach finally lost his temper, patience running out, and he stopped bothering to hide his magic. The temperature abruptly dropped, ice forming on the ceiling, the light levels dropped as shadows drew in, and Madanach stepped forward, Ebonyflesh striking into existence, blue-green outline reminding everyone he was a battlemage first and foremost.

"Borkul, if any of these fuckers think shutting down my magic is a bright idea, kill the Knight-Commander," Madanach said cheerfully.

"On it," Borkul said, reaching for a warhammer where the head could crush even a Templar's helmet.

"Your Worship, there is no need to-" the Knight-Commander spluttered, and Madanach finally let loose with his real feelings.

"I am this close to conscripting every single person in this gods damn Circle tower into direct Inquisition service, including you, and if that happens, I can guarantee every single Templar here is getting reassigned to the Western Approach so the Formari can work in peace!" Madanach snarled. "Now, we want our supplies. The Formari want fair terms and conditions. You presumably want them to stop sniping at your men and be able to go back to work monitoring the mages for demons. So you're going to do that. You're going to stand down the Templars, get every single one of them back to routine duty somewhere else, and then you're going to leave the negotiations to me. Am I clear?"

The Knight-Commander's face had gone scarlet, expression twisting in rage at some upstart mage talking to him like that… but he'd heard Borkul's orders and knew he had no choice.

"As you wish," he said curtly, before ordering all Templars to fall back, and a few of the more junior ones to get the Templar barricade disassembled. Madanach had Inquisition soldiers stationed to ensure his back was watched, and then carefully made his way down the passage. So far, no traps but best not to take any chances.

Using Illusion magic to help his voice carry, he addressed the Tranquil directly.

"Good morning, Formari. I received your letter. As a gesture of good faith, I got rid of the Templars for you. May we talk? I didn't come to fight, I do have an offer for you. In particular, I'm after Cesaire LaRose. He and I have things to discuss."

Movement from behind the Tranquil lines and then the sound of someone jumping on a box, and then Cicero himself peeked over the barricades, beaming.

"Reach-King! I knew you'd come! See, see, did Cicero not tell you the kind and wise Deputy Inquisitor would help?"

"You said kind and wise Inquisitor, not him," an Orlesian woman said firmly, and then a Templar's head emerged and the helm was removed to reveal a thirty-something woman frowning at him. "But it's good you came. The situation's getting out of hand. My former comrades turned out to be disinclined to listen to reason."

Evangeline, for it had to be her, glanced over his shoulder, still frowning.

"You didn't bring the First Enchanter with you? She might have smoothed things over with the Knight-Commander for you. And this is her Circle. She has a right to be here."

"Perhaps we already made her an offer, Ser Evangeline," Madanach purred. "She's not keen but Ambassador Montilyet's smoothing over the finer details. Just remains to be seen if the Tranquil here are willing to listen. So. Where's your uncle, Cicero. I got his letter. Can I talk to him?"

"Yes, of course, of course!" Cicero cooed. "We shall fetch him immediately! Could one of you – thank you, Remy."

The doors to the laboratories opened, and one of the Tranquil slipped inside. A few minutes passed… and then there was movement behind the barricade, and to Madanach's surprise, part of it turned out to be on hinges, iron lattice work opening to form a gate.

"You put a gate in your defences?" Madanach asked, not having seen that one before.

"Yes!" Cicero squeaked. "It was occasionally necessary to sneak out, so they put a gate in. Tranquil are very good at crafting things."

"Indeed. It was the only role allowed us for years. We became skilled from necessity. Now necessity drives us into new roles. Or not so new in my case. I am no stranger to intrigue, Reach-King, as you well know."

Cicero had stepped back, as had the various Tranquil, all watching the old man who'd appeared, arm in arm with a man in his thirties who might just be Enchanter Rhys. But Rhys was less interesting than the old man he was supporting.

Light-brown skin typical of Cyrodiil – it turned out half-Nordic Cicero was the pale-skinned anomaly there. Lined face, dark brown eyes exactly like Cicero's… and so were the facial features. Long silver hair, shorter than the nephew who was taking his other hand… but it was clear the two were kin. And the accent… even after all these years in a foreign country, there was a hint of Cyrodiil yet.

"Cicero Senior, I presume," Madanach said, and while appearances were likely deceiving, seeing a frail old man before him had a way of disarming him a little. "I'm here to… this was supposed to be a rescue mission, I wasn't expecting it to turn into defusing a full-scale uprising."

"It is not yet a full-scale uprising," Cicero Senior said, shrugging. "You know what those entail. We seek pay and adequate working conditions. We are not yet intending to take over the entire Tower. That might have been our next objective had you not come."

Madanach could see this happening all too well, and was rather glad it hadn't descended into slaughtering Templars.

"Well, I'm very impressed with your ingenuity," Madanach told him. "So impressed I'm recruiting you. I could use a bard's expertise from time to time. You get to come to Skyhold, and we might be able to reverse Tranquillity for you too."

Cicero Senior blinked… and then to his surprise, shook his head.

"No. I will not abandon my Formari comrades. We wish payment and time off like the Inquisition Formari have, or no deal."

Madanach rubbed his forehead, having seen that coming but feeling he had to try.

"You want Inquisition terms and conditions for all the Formari in this tower or you're going nowhere," Madanach sighed. Cicero Senior nodded.

"Yes. I thought that was quite clear in my letter. I… should have been more explicit, perhaps."

"Perhaps," Madanach said wearily. "Well, you're in luck, Ambassador Josephine's used to dealing with bardic flourishes. Me, I'm just a Reachman warlord who prefers more straightforward ways of communicating."

"So my nephew tells me," Cicero Senior said, eyes not leaving Madanach's. "Yet for all your apparent bluntness, I am still not hearing an offer."

Cheeky little… he wanted an offer? He could have one.

"Fine. You want Inquisition contracts? You can have them. I'm conscripting you all. We want our potions. Inquisition lives are depending on them. Also runes, grenades and poisons. We're facing a siege against an ancient fortress manned by Grey Wardens and demons. Anything that might give us the edge is useful. Drop any other orders until we've won. And I don't want anyone working more than eight hours in a row. Also take breaks. You're all staying here at Montsimmard for now as your tools and supplies are all here, but there'll be opportunities for secondment to Skyhold."

He'd expected cheering but of course there was none. Still, there was a fair bit of whispering, and then one of the Tranquil, a young elven woman, spoke up.

"Would we be able to carry out personal research to produce enchantments that target Fade creatures or Blight creatures?"

"Sure, if you think it'll help?" Madanach said, and the elf nodded briskly.

"We will have something for you, Your Worship. We had some fruitful lines of inquiry already. Some of us were liaising with the Blight Witch's people and the Inquisition Arcanist. It was how we first heard how differently Inquisition Tranquil were treated."

"Well, now you're Inquisition Tranquil as well, congratulations," Madanach told her. "I have some of Josephine's staff here who will handle the paperwork, and once we have everyone's details, we'll start sorting out bank accounts in Val Royeaux for your wages to go to. Some of it will come here too. Don't worry about Enchanter Vivienne, she already agreed."

"And the Templars?" Cicero Senior said shrewdly. "We hope there will be no… retaliation."

"I'll have Inquisition soldiers here to keep an eye on things," Madanach promised. "In fact… given we're fighting Grey Warden mages and demons, we could use more Templars in the Approach. I'll see about borrowing the ones here that can still fight, swap them for Inquisition personnel. Maybe a breathing space for everyone will be in all our interests. Although Enchanter Vivienne did insist Rhys and Evangeline leave. I'm afraid you two can't stay here. You can join the Inquisition if you like."

Evangeline glanced at Rhys, who nodded.

"We can do that. I don't think either of us are fully combat-ready yet though."

"But I have friends among the nobility and Rhys can point you to a few caches once used by the rebels," Evangeline added. "We can get you aid."

Useful indeed. Madanach agreed, and turned his attention back to Cicero – both of them, and now the formal negotiations were largely done, he dropped into their native Tamrielic.

"Well, Signor? Ready to come home? Elisif wanted me to tell you you went above and beyond the call of duty for the Empire, and you're getting a full retirement pension. In the meantime, we'd be honoured to have you at Skyhold, and I think Cicero would very much like that."

Cicero nodded happily, patting his nonplussed uncle's hand. Cicero Senior blinked a couple of times, and nodded, seeming a bit confused now he'd got what he wanted. Madanach guessed he'd not thought beyond the planning and now the objective was achieved, he had no idea what happened now.

"If you wish it, I will come with you," Cicero Senior said, rubbing his temples. "I have concerns over my reaction if you restore my emotions though. My sister and my wife are dead. I have lost decades of my life to the Chantry. I will have to cope with old age. But… my nephew still seems pleased to have me in any capacity, so for his sake, yes, I will come. They tell me my daughter Leliana is at Skyhold too. But she has never met me. I suppose she will not be bothered. She is not here, after all."

"I'm here," Leliana said softly, and how long she'd been there listening in was anyone's guess. She wouldn't have understood the Tamrielic anyway, although Madanach couldn't put somehow learning it off Maia or Morrigan past her. Still, she must have heard her name. And unlike her father's flat monotone, Leliana's voice was filled with emotion. "When I heard… I had to come."

Madanach stepped back, watching in amazement as the normally self-contained spymaster approached the Ciceros, one younger one practically bouncing with delight, and the other… had not taken his eyes off her, although his expression hadn't changed at all.

"You're crying," was all Cicero Senior said, clearly confused. "You… Cicero said you do not normally show your emotions. And that you were not interested in meeting me."

Leliana wiped her eyes, shaking her head.

"I thought you'd be like… they always told us Tranquil were walking automatons who just did what they were told. No feelings. No desires. Just working. Even Lyra said that. But… you organised a strike. On your own! And I heard you talking to Madanach, you refused to leave unless your fellows had help too. You're not an automaton. Maybe none of you are… but you're still the Black Rose, aren't you?"

Blinking from Cicero Senior but little else.

"They called me that once. In another life. Alas, I am a bard no more. Music does not bring the pleasure it once did. They tell me you are skilled though, in all matters of the art. That is good. The Inquisition no doubt owes much to you."

"It does," Madanach said softly, stepping forward and placing a hand on Leliana's back. "We'd fall apart without her."

Leliana let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob.

"It won't come to that," she said softly. "I've made arrangements in case they pick me as Divine. Maybe they won't… but if they do, you will not be left in the lurch."

"Good to know," Madanach said, although that really wasn't the point. Still, it had piqued Cicero Senior's interest, for he reached out suddenly to take Leliana's hand.

"They raised you Andrastian and you ended up in the Chantry. You served the Divine, then the Inquisition, and now they consider you as the next."

"Yes," Leliana said, confused. "You clearly did your research, messere."

A pause from Cicero Senior, who shook his head.

"We are kin. Do not call me messere. If you cannot manage Papa, my name will do. Cicero. Or Cesaire. Maybe the Orlesian version is easier for you. Be that as it may. You are candidate for Divine."

"Yes," Leliana said, still not sure where this was going. "And you… aren't even Andrastian, are you? Maker knows what you must think of the Chantry after all this."

"No feelings at the moment, but when I regain them, I will be angry," Cicero Senior said clearly. "Very angry indeed. I..."

He winced, rubbing at his forehead with his free hand, then took a deep breath and spoke again.

"Promise me you will make it better. Free mages. Free elves. No exalted marches to convert Tamriel. And… no more Tranquil. No one else to ever have this done to them. I bear it because I feel nothing now. But I also know I lost much because of it. So please, child. End the rite. It is no mercy."

"They might not even pick me," Leliana whispered. Cicero Senior shrugged.

"Then the debt is not yours to bear. But if it falls to you, promise me you'll change things."

Leliana nodded, taking both his hands in hers.

"I promise. You have my word."

Cicero Senior nodded, releasing a breath that even he'd not realised he'd been holding.

"Thank you – ow!"

He let Leliana go and reached for his head, grimacing in pain.

"Uncle!" Cicero cried, reaching for him, and Cicero Senior leaned into him, closing his eyes.

"Willowbark tea will fix it," Cicero Senior whispered. "Pay it no mind, it is just my body wanting to feel but not able to."

Cicero pulled his uncle into a hug, whimpering.

"Reach-King, we have to fix him, we must, we must!" Cicero cried. "It is hurting him!"

"Of course, if he's all right with that," Madanach promised, patting the old man on the back. "Are you all right with that? I think I need to get you back to Skyhold first though. I may be able to do it without waiting for Eola, but not here. Too many Templars."

"Understandable," Cicero Senior whispered. "Yes, Reach-King, I will take the cure. Now I have met my Leliana… she deserves a father who can love her. And… I believe Cicerito might like it too."

"Yes, yes, I would, I would!" Cicero cried, and Leliana looked like she was about to burst into tears. Madanach really couldn't have that.

"Then let's get you home- Cole?"

Cole had materialised out of nowhere, attention on the elder Cicero, ignoring Rhys calling out his name. And slowly, Cicero Senior looked up, blinking, something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Shock. Fear. Relief.

"What… what is that. What are you doing. What are you? How are you doing that?"

"I can't be near the Tranquil at Skyhold, I start making them real again and they cry," Cole said quietly. "I have to leave. It's too much. They forget after. But… I think I could make you real again forever. I needed to know you wanted it first though."

"What are you," Cicero Senior whispered again, wiping a tear from his cheek. "And can you fix me? Really?"

"I'm a spirit," Cole said, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. "I help the hurting. I help undo the knots of pain and help people feel happy again. But… this will make it hurt for you now."

Cicero Senior nodded, tears still in his eyes.

"I know," he gasped. "But… I'll be able to play music again too, won't I?"

"Sonnets, symphonies, stirring the soul, words to calm a grieving heart or enrage it, nimble fingers on a six-string lute, memories of sweet Oisine singing while she worked, of Stelmaria singing a lullaby to sweet Cicerito. Songs of Orlais, songs of Cyrodiil, a melody telling your life story, picking up again after years of silence but the melody's still the same. Oisine and Stelmaria are gone but their blood survives. And so have you."

Cole had drawn nearer as he'd spoken, singsong voice seeming to hypnotise Cicero Senior, and then Cole's fingers found his forehead, light flaring, and the one-time Black Rose cried out.

"Uncle!" Cicero cried, catching him as he collapsed in his arms, Cole stepping back, and for a moment, no one was sure if it had worked or not. And then Cicero Senior's grip tightened on his nephew's Inquisition gear, and Cicero realised he was crying.

"Uncle?" Cicero whispered. "Uncle? What is it? What is wrong? Please tell me!"

Cicero Senior sat up, rather fruitlessly trying to wipe tears away before giving up and finally looking up at his nephew.

"Cicerito," Cicero Senior gasped, staring up at his nephew with tears rolling down his cheeks. "My little Cicerito. Is it really you!"

"Yes, uncle, yes it's really me!" Cicero cried, starting to wipe a tear from his own eyes as he realised his uncle could feel again. And Cicero Senior promptly flung his arms around him, sobbing helplessly on his nephew's shoulder, finally, finally free.

"Poor bastard," Madanach said quietly to himself, before risking a glance at Leliana. To her credit, she hadn't run away, although she'd gone very pale.

"Are you all right," Madanach asked, sidling a bit nearer and putting a hand on her back. And then to his surprise, Leliana actually hugged him, head buried in his robes. Which was awkward, to say the least, but Madanach found he could forgive her. Cuddling her back, he stroked her hair, hoping this would soothe her at least a little, even if he would later have to pretend this never happened.

Which just left Rhys, not to mention Evangeline, both staring at Cole. Who noticed this, and promptly shuffled away, not meeting their eyes. Still, he wasn't vanishing either, so that was something.

"Cole," Madanach said firmly. "This is the bit where you talk to them both. Especially Rhys."

Cole just shuffled that bit further away, still staring at his feet. Madanach sighed, gritting his teeth.

"I'm sorry, Enchanter. Cole is… not good at human interaction. Well. You know him better than me, it turns out."

"I do," Rhys said, sadness and affection in his voice. "Cole, it's all right. I know you're a spirit. I know you're trying to help. And that this world is big and confusing and scary. I know you made mistakes. But it's all right. I'm still your friend."

Was it Madanach or had Cole relaxed just slightly. No, there it was, Cole's hat brim rising as Cole peered out, looking to him of all people for advice.

"I don't have a goddamn clue, Cole, but if you do want to be friends, talk to him. Maybe in private? Away from the Tranquil, Sithis knows we don't need any more being healed today. Unless one of them asks you, of course."

"They all ask when their feelings return," Cole whispered, sombre. And then he finally turned to Rhys, still not quite meeting his eyes.

"Talking is good," Cole whispered. "I'll be in the library." And then he disappeared.

Rhys didn't even look surprised at that having happened.

"He's been with the Inquisition the whole time?" he said, disbelieving.

"Since the battle at Haven," Madanach said, leaving out the part where he'd have had the creepy little weirdo kicked out if it was down to him. "He's… helped. My wife is fond of him."

"Glad to hear it," Rhys said, smiling. "Is it all right if we go find him?"

"Sure, I can look after Cicero, and there's staff to handle the Tranquil, here they are, look."

Some of the staff were Tranquil themselves, all armed with checklists and paperwork to start the onboarding process. With things settling down, Rhys and Evangeline went off to find Cole, which just left Madanach with a spymaster who was wiping her eyes and looking like she'd rather be anywhere but here… and two Ciceros who were having a quiet conversation in… what was not Tamrielic. Because the translation spirit was having to translate it for him.

It is their native language. The street tongue of Cyrodiil.

Technically a form of Tamrielic but strayed so far from Standard, you couldn't understand it any longer unless you were born to it… and here were the Ciceros chatting away in it. They even had their own private language. That definitely spelled trouble.

But at least he could tell what they were saying.

"Your mother is dead, isn't she."

Cicero nodding, staring sadly at his uncle, who'd put his head in his hands and started crying again.

"I'm sorry!" Cicero gasped, cuddling him. "I couldn't do anything! She told me to hide and went out to fight, and I never saw her again."

More crying from the elder Cicero, and then he looked up, shaking his head.

"I should be apologising to you, boy! I wasn't there… I could have saved you if not her, looked after you! I am so sorry, Cicero."

"It was not your fault either!" Cicero protested. "You were a prisoner!"

Cicero Senior went quiet, one of his fists clenching.

"Yes," he said curtly. "I was. Because of the Daedra-damn Chantry. Nephew, if they do not pick my daughter as their next leader, may those below claim every last one of them."

The iron barricade actually rattled, and thank the gods Tranquil smiths made their work stand up to just about anything, because Cicero Senior's magic was apparently quite potent.

As it was, Leliana had caught the word Chantry in close conjunction with Daedra and considerable anger, and was looking alarmed. She was also looking for exit routes, stepping away from Madanach and preparing to flee.

"Madanach, what are they saying," Leliana said softly. "He's angry, isn't he."

"Yeah, a bit," Madanach admitted. "But not at you."

Leliana didn't look convinced, and might well have started retreating right there if Cicero Senior hadn't caught their own conversation and turned his head sharply in Leliana's direction.

Father stared at daughter, truly staring at her, truly seeing her for the first time, and under the scrutiny, Leliana swiftly looked away, cheeks flushing pink. Because he could feel now, he had feelings… which meant she now needed to deal with hers. And his.

A few moments passed, and then Cicero Senior broke the silence.

"Leliana?"

Silence from Leliana, who still didn't turn to face him… but did nod.

"That is my name," Leliana said shortly, and Madanach, who'd had hopes to start with, began to feel them drain again. Cicero was also staring sadly at Leliana, a hand on his uncle's back, because said uncle must be feeling the sting of his child apparently rejecting him.

But apparently tales of recovered Tranquil being emotionally all over the place weren't universally true, it seemed, because Cicero Senior seemed to be reining his in at least a little. He didn't cry at least.

"Yes. You're named after my mother. We could agree on a girl's name. We couldn't agree on a boy's. She wanted Florian. Florian! What sort of name's that, honestly."

"A better one than Septimo," Cicero said, not missing a beat, and his uncle turned slowly to stare at him.

"Nipote. Silencio!"

Cicero cackled, before assuming a faux-innocent expression and unassuming posture.

"Cicero shall not say another word, Uncle. Cicero shall be here, being silent and doing nothing. You will not even notice I am here."

Cicero had said that in Thedosian, clearly for Leliana's benefit, and it had the desired effect. Leliana giggled, glancing in her cousin's direction, looking up in his direction instinctively as she recalled she was really very fond of him and glad to have him around.

Except then she recalled that in order to truly have a cousin in her life… she needed to at least talk to her father.

Who'd turned from telling off his nephew to looking at his daughter with renewed interest.

"You look a lot like your mother," Cicero Senior said softly. "Tell me, how old were you when she died. What do you remember? Anything?"

"Not much," Leliana admitted. "I was four when she died, I think. I remember her singing. And blonde hair. And standing on a beach, holding her hand and watching the waves. I was happy! I… I loved her very much, I think. I miss her."

Cicero Senior's expression had shifted as she spoke, sadness and grief in his eyes.

"So do I," he whispered. "There were a lot of love affairs in my youth, I admit that, but when I heard her singing in the kitchens for the first time… that was when the Black Rose cut off all his other amours and thought only of her. My beloved Oisine..."

He did turn then, hands covering his face as he wept once more, feeling all the force of a grief that he'd been prevented from feeling for years… and one Leliana shared.

Cicero had whispered 'uncle!' and gone to offer comfort… but he wasn't the only one this time. Leliana gasped and went as well, going to her father's side and rubbing his back.

And Cicero Senior promptly put his arms around them both, holding them tight, the three of them with their heads together, three Di Rossos comforting each other and finally being family.

Madanach watched, wiping a tear from his own eyes, even while part of him whispered these three were also consummate troublemakers who could make his life hell if they wanted. But even so, seeing them like this was rather sweet.

"Will you tell me more about her?" Leliana was saying hesitantly. "If… if it's all right?"

Cicero Senior nodded, brightening up immediately as he realised he'd not been rejected after all.

"Yes! Of course, of course! If you can bear a foolish old man's tears now and then?"

Leliana nodded, smiling, wiping a tear away from her own eyes.

"I wouldn't mind hearing tales of the Black Rose's adventures either," Leliana added, and Cicero Senior did at least have the decency to blush.

"Ah. Er… some of them are… unsuitable. But there are some I could share!" And then a sly grin. "Some of Sister Nightingale's adventures might be worth hearing too. And I have many questions for my nephew. Please tell me you have some stories that didn't involve slaughtering innocent people for the Brotherhood?"

"A few?" Cicero ventured, looking rather nervous all of a sudden. Madanach did not blame him at all.

"Perhaps it's time we got you all back home to Skyhold?" he said, stepping forward. "Sister Leliana probably has work to do. And maybe my daughter will be back from the Western Approach. Sirrah, you know your nephew married my daughter, right?"

"Yes, it was in the book – Talos, I need to reread the book! I'll enjoy it now!"

A pause as Cicero Senior remembered Talos-worship wasn't legal any more, and a glare at Madanach as he also recalled who definitely didn't care about that.

"Eight, now. Not Nine. Really, Reach-King?"

"Hey, it wasn't my idea!" Madanach protested.

"No, you're just pleased about it," Cicero Senior sighed. "Ugh. Very well. I shall have to get used to the idea, I suppose. The last war orphaned my nephew. I'm not so devout I want another one over it."

"Mama said you'd probably burst into flames if you went near a temple," Cicero said, happily reminiscing. "She said you'd done some terrible things before now. Never said what though. Did you stab a priest? Steal from the collection box?"

"Stole seven solid gold Dibella statues from the Temple of Dibella and fenced them to the Orlesians," Cicero Senior said cheerfully. "Six very happy nobles and the madame of the White Rose all paid me a fortune for them. Do not look at me like that, I had a sister pregnant out of wedlock to support."

It dawned on Madanach that the return of the notorious Black Rose was going to cause problems he'd never even anticipated, even as he remembered hearing the tale of the Theft of the Seven Dibellas from the High Priestess of their temple, who'd wanted to know if any had ever ended up in the Reach. Sadly not. Now he knew where they really were… and it also dawned on him that there must be a lot of Orlesian art pieces in Tamrielic collections too. Hadn't he always thought that portrait of Andraste and Maferath being saluted by their troops that everyone here seemed to like resembled one he'd received as a wedding gift from some Breton noble? It must have been based on a Thedosian original.

Madanach turned wearily to Leliana, who'd tried to stop laughing and failed, and lost it completely when she met his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Leliana said, although it truly wasn't her fault. "Did you want me to make enquiries? Don't worry about how to get them back. A few rumours that they're cursed and they'll be begging us to take them."

"Thank you," Madanach whispered, feeling the headache coming on already. "Shall we get a move on? I really don't like Circles."

Something they could all agree on. And so the three Di Rossos followed Madanach back to where Borkul was waiting. Time to go home.


A/N: I'm really getting fond of Cicero Senior. He's just so... unrepentant. Next couple of chapters will be him settling back in at Skyhold and meeting people.