And finally there is a decision of some kind about Anders. And then we called it a day because, after all, this story is not solely about him.

Enjoy!

Wintersend part 26

At the same time that the first rays of the sun peeped over the mountain range, the Bull woke up. He did not, as most people do, slowly float to the surface of existence. And neither did he, as most people do, need some moments to adjust to the reality of everyday life. He did not have to come to terms with the fact that the yummy dish that, gloriously naked, was sharing his picnic blanket in the flowery meadow was, alas, but a dream, nor, for that matter, did he have to realise with relief that the nasty hairy spider (or wild screaming Fog Warrior) marching up to him aggressively, only belonged to the nightmare that was pestering him.

Due to his Ben-Hassrath training, he was immediately alert and ready for action. Any action. Whatever action came along.

Sadly the action he had in mind when he opened his eyes had, clearly, left the bed. Mildly frustrated he worked himself up on an elbow.

The gloriously naked yummy dish that positively was not a dream, had opened the curtains and stood staring out of the window for reasons that, for the moment, escaped the Bull entirely. He did it very attractively, though. That, at least, was something.

Without turning around Dorian said accusingly, 'I know you are ogling my bottom.'

The Bull was surprised he had heard him move but decided not to comment on it. Instead he said carelessly, 'I'm just wondering why the hell you're standing over there instead of lying here next to me.' He smirked and added, 'Enjoying the by you so much praised feather matrass. But, while we're at it, do me a favour and admit that me ogling your behind is the only reason why you're doing it.' After a second he continued, 'And may I add you have the cutest ass I've ever seen on a human.'

Now Dorian turned his head and over his shoulder he glared at the Bull, one brow raised prettily. 'I'm not quite certain I should take that as an insult or a compliment, especially coming from a Qunari. And for your information, I was just admiring the sunrise. At this hour of day the mountains look particularly beautiful. A balm for the soul.' Then he cocked his head. 'Only on a human? Did you really say that? I'm affronted!'

Bull laughed out loud. 'I knew that would trigger a reaction! Come back to bed and I'll show you how much I adore that tight little tushy of yours.' Invitingly he tapped the sheets. 'I must say I am pleasantly surprised to see you keep your body in good shape. I thought all you pampered Tevinter mages were fat and squashy.'

'I like my body in good shape,' Dorian said belligerently while he walked back to the bed, showing Bull another alluring feature of his physique, which made it hard for the Qunari not to drool or to undertake immediate action, 'I'm vain. And, as I already pointed out to Varric, I am not pampered.'

'Of course you're not,' the Bull tutted soothingly, 'that you keep in your liquor cabinet an exquisite collection of the most expensive wines in Thedas, does not proof anything at all of you being spoiled like a mollycoddled toddler.'

Incensed Dorian flared up. 'I did not ask for it, you unspeakable big-horn–'

Brusquely the Bull silenced him by dragging him into the bed and attacking his mouth with his own in a sweltering kiss.

After Dorian had managed to surface from the inflamed passion, he spluttered weakly, still feeling offended, 'It was the priceless Josephine who apparently thought I could not survive without –'

'I did not give you permission to speak, and I'm not finished with you,' Bull growled, upon which he treated the Tevinter mage to another sample of heated Qunari making out. Dorian gave in, especially when his lover began to demonstrate how adorable exactly he found his behind by kneading the muscles with experienced fingers. And shortly after that made clear he did not only drool over his manly parts, but very well knew how to make use of them in all sorts of enticing ways.

Within no time they got entangled in a bout of fiery lovemaking that completely wrecked the bed. Again.

Hawke looked around with rising amazement. 'Really?! A library? Down here? You have to be kidding me!'

Evelyn shrugged nonchalantly. 'We call it the Vault Library,' she said with a lopsided smile. 'That's to say, I do.'

'Seriously?' Hawke cried out exasperated, missing the irony in the voice of the other woman completely. Pregnancy was, again, taking its toll or, better, amplifying her emotions. And her intensified feelings, for some stupid reasons, barred her common sense, and apparently her hearing too. Besides that, she might have spent six years of her life in the luxurious environment of Hightown and even have boasted a library she had been very proud of, the idea of hiding books in a cellar and calling it a Vault Library sounded in her ears not only silly but even decadent. After all, she had spent more years scraping and saving. 'What's next? An underground Opera House? An open air Conservatory at the Upper Gallery? Cassandra writing a novel?'

Leliana started to chuckle. 'That would be a sight to behold! Especially how she would wreck her stationary in the most interesting ways every other word! I bet she would give the phrase "The Pen is mightier than the Sword" a whole new meaning by using the pen as a sword.'

Evelyn started laughing and then fluttered her hand. 'Believe me,' she told Hawke, 'I was as surprised as you are when I stumbled upon the space.'

'And such an interesting place to meet too,' Hawke went on mordantly because she was more or less on a roll. She wrinkled her nose. She shied away from a cobweb; she wasn't particularly fond of spiders, though she did her best not to show it. Strangely she attacked the large cave-dwelling monsters without a second thought but for some reason their smaller eight-legged counterparts gave her the creeps.

'I think it's some kind of forgotten archive,' Evelyn replied, 'rather than a neglected library. But, whatever the case, please don't let Dorian know, the poor man would get a seizure. He's already upset enough about the state of the library upstairs. And I thought that was pristine.' She grinned softly at the vision in her head of Dorian getting enraged about the, in his eyes, totally inappropriate way of the classification of the volumes. He acted as if, should Corypheus not succeed in turning the world apart, the Skyhold librarian would easily do the honours for him. 'I chose this place because I'm pretty certain we won't be overheard down here.' She looked around the faces of the people she had asked to join her. 'I want your opinion about a delicate matter: what to do with Anders. Only you know he's here in Skyhold and I like to keep it that way.'

Only an hour earlier she had, with the healer Ariane in tow, visited the room on the ramparts, now some kind of top secret location, because Hawke had asked for her. And so she had been briefed about Anders's situation and about what Cole had done. Evelyn immediately had called for the hush-hush gathering while Ariane had stayed with the mage who was still asleep. Besides the three of them, Cullen and Leliana were also present. Of course there were more people who knew about Anders's existence, but Evelyn wanted to make a decision this morning and she didn't need fruitless discussions. The more people, the more ineffective said discussions, after all. She had dreaded getting lost in some kind of perpetual debate.

The Spy Master now frowned. 'What do you mean? I take it the problem will solve itself, now he has had the Calling for real.'

With a sigh Hawke butted in. 'Yes, well, Cole has more or less solved that problem.'

Leliana reacted with the viciousness of one of her birds. 'What?! How can that be possible?!' She scowled angrily. 'So we are stuck with him?'

The thought of Alistair, now King of Ferelden, and especially the image of Elissa Cousland shot through her mind. Both wonderful people and both infected with the Darkspawn taint and condemned to an early death. Somewhat unexpectedly Alistair had proved to be a great king and ruled the country with a gentle yet steady hand. Elissa, after all the good she had done, had vanished and had not been found as yet, no matter how much effort had been made. Leliana feared she had had her Calling unusually soon, but hadn't told Alistair to spare him the grief. Silly, of course, but typical Cousland. It seemed extremely unfair that Anders, with his history, would slip through the cracks, while two such wonderful persons would have to suffer for being a Grey Warden. Or, in Elissa's case, presumably had suffered already. 'What has he done?' She sounded harsher than she intended. Or, perhaps exactly as harsh. Her eyes hardened.

Unimpressed Hawke shrugged dismissively, teaching the Spy Master a valuable lesson of recognising battles being valuable enough to fight.. 'Cole had a theory about killing Darkspawn in the Fade and with doing so shutting the song up. It seemed to me as a completely crazy and yet plausible idea.'

Cullen sighed. 'What he says sounds like gibberish to my ears half of the time,' he said wearily, 'mostly I don't know what he's talking about and the parts I do understand make no sense.' He gave the gathering a wan smile. 'Though I wish I could follow him now and again. I don't think he means harm.'

'Indeed,' Hawke continued unperturbed, 'but, as it turned out, Anders didn't have the Calling after all. It was some kind of trick his former buddy Justice plaid on him. Cole has taken care of that and, as we speak, Anders is recovering from his ordeal.' She gave Evelyn a little wink. 'In the caring hands of your, or rather your Spy Masters', unsurpassed healing mage.'

'Great,' Leliana muttered morosely, professionally ignoring the stab, 'there goes the easy solution.'

Cullen could sympathise. 'Just like Cole, making things complicated,' he grumbled.

'Well, that's totally contrary to what you said not a moment before,' remarked Evelyn with a strained smile. 'So easy to convict someone you don't understand.' She shot a dark glare at her lover. 'To him it's always clear and honest. He always wants to help. That you don't understand him doesn't mean he's a bad person.'

She just didn't say, You're acting as biased as Vivienne, but it came close. Cullen could simply hear the words form in the air. He sagged under her angry glare. 'I didn't say he was a bad person, only hard to follow.'

He took Evelyn's hand in his but, notwithstanding she accepted his token of peace, she went on relentlessly, 'Remember how he put peeled plums on the windowsill once? To attract flies that on their turn attracted spiders, so the cobwebs could be used for infected wounds? To us he may think in bends and curves, to him the road is straight. And in the end he finds the solution.'

'I remember that,' Leliana asserted, pensively. 'And I remember also that the infirmary made good use of the cobwebs.' She pinched the bridge of her nose. 'But Cole meaning well, does not solve the problem.'

Fenris, who hitherto had leant deceivingly nonchalantly against a heavy table on which stood a large lectern, now said, 'Then what do you propose? Hide him on the ramparts forever? Put him to death? Chase him away so another can do the job for you?' He uttered his words with a generous amount of sarcasm, inadvertently adding to the Spymaster's already abundant self-annoyance.

Leliana snapped. She was not used to this pesky feeling of indecision and she lashed out in a rather juvenile way. She stuck out her chin and snarled, 'I'd thought you would be the last one to be concerned about Anders's fate.'

Fenris took a step forward, leaving the heavy table behind, together with his casual posture. He pointed to the vault's ceiling, his silvery green eyes boring into hers. 'That person in the room up there,' he declared with emphasis, 'is not Anders. Not the Anders I knew, distrusted and despised. That person up there is broken and shattered, misled and misused for years. That person does not deserve the death penalty.'

For a moment it seemed as if Leliana wanted to put up a fight, but then she deflated. 'Of course you're right,' she said tiredly, 'but I really don't know what to do with him. The only thing I do know right now is that I don't want to send him to Val Royeaux.'

And then Hawke declared out of the sudden, 'I think we're making a bigger problem out of this than is necessary.'

'How do you figure?' Evelyn informed eagerly, sensing a way out.

'Have you looked at him recently? Really looked at him? I dare state that his own mother wouldn't recognise him. I hardly recognise him. And how many people know what he's supposed to look like anyhow? He seems to have grown ten years older in the past few weeks and he's as thin as a skeleton. If punishing him is not an issue, then what is?'

'He will recover,' Cullen objected, 'someone will identify him. And then what?'

'I don't see that grey hair turn into strawberry blond again in a hurry,' Hawke tackled his protest. 'Ask just anybody to describe him and I bet they'll picture a ghastly beast, seven feet tall, big-boned with a heavy set jaw and flaming eyes and a cruel expression. Even the ones who knew him back in Kirkwall. Their remembrance will be of the monster the Chantry have made of him. In short: the typical image of your average psychopathic mage.'

Cullen tried to suppress a nervous chortle and Leliana looked at her unfathomably but at least not disapprovingly.

'Why haven't I come up with that?' Evelyn cried out, visibly relieved. 'Let him grow a beard, preferably a grey one, cut his hair, dress him up nicely, give him another name and he can act as just the next healer who came along to help the Inquisition. It's brilliant!'

'Yes,' Hawke grinned smugly, quite satisfied with herself, 'I can't imagine why I didn't think of it earlier, it's so simple and so obvious. But I suppose that's what you get for being pregnant.'

She only got aware of what she had said when she caught the eyes of the others, staring at her in perplexity.

'Well,' Fenris said finally, straight-faced, 'I must admit you've kept the secret longer than I expected you'd do. But, if I may give you some good advice, I'd hurry to Varric if I were you, before he gets wind of it and lets you grovel for the rest of your life.'

Without waiting for further reactions, Marian turned and ran out of the Vault Library, right through the cobwebs.

'Uhm,' Cullen volunteered carefully in the awkward silence she left behind, 'I suppose congratulations are in order?'

Fenris smiled. 'They are,' he reassured him, 'thank you. And if you will excuse me now, I go after her before she and Varric get the chance to kill each other.'

'What's the matter?' Varric asked, alarmed, when Hawke hurtled into his room next to the Great Hall, flushed and panting. 'Did you bump into an Archdemon? Or Vivienne? Is Corypheus on his way to destroy the castle? A major row with Fenris?' (A Story Teller could still keep on dreaming, he reasoned.) 'Or did you find out they ran out of your favourite brand of cognac? In that case I can be of help, I'm sure.' He already reached for his liquor cabinet.

'Oh just shut up, you oaf, and stop jumping into conclusions,' Marian bitched, trying to catch her breath. She didn't know exactly why she was angry with Varric and, actually, she wasn't angry with him as such, or with anyone else for that matter. Hormones, she thought, bloody, stupid hormones. I hate them.

'I wouldn't call it jumping,' Varric reacted, a little offended, 'I'd rather call it a quick but balanced thought up string of possible events.' He waved the bottle in her direction. 'A large one, I presume?'

'Better not one at all,' sounded Fenris from the door opening. 'You didn't have to take my words literally and rush that fast to the dwarf's apartment, Marian. Or were you afraid your declaration would arrive here sooner than you?'

Marian plopped into a chair. 'Great,' she groused, 'and now I'm in the company of not one but two witty men. How am I ever supposed to win this fight on my own? Where's the pirate queen when you need her?'

Varric, who was of the opinion they were both acting very strange, looked suspiciously from the one to the other. 'Care to explain? Or shall I extend my guessing game? I still have plenty of possibilities in reserve.' Since neither Hawke nor Fenris showed any interest in the cognac, he poured himself a strong one.

Like a flash Hawke recuperated and beamed broadly at him. 'But I'm positive not this one.' She beamed some more and added, 'Remember your question from a few months back, right here in this very room?'

Varric looked puzzled. 'My dear lady, I've asked so many questions and even more things have happened since! How do you think – '

Hawke interrupted him briskly. 'Oh, but this you must still know since it was too idiotic. I'm referring to the one about the triplets.'

Varric, who was always quick on the uptake, but in this case not quick enough to beat his emotions, dropped his glass and the contents sloshed over the table. He didn't even curse; he just started to cough ostentatiously to prevent he'd burst into a furious rant or, worse, tears. Or, worse even, he coughed to disguise said tears.

'Yes,' smirked Hawke, enjoying herself tremendously, 'you're going to be Uncle Varric.'

'Uncle Varric,' Varric echoed, his eyes glassy. He was still fighting to keep the salt water works at bay.

Fenris came to his aid and refilled the glass that he pushed into his hand. 'Don't drop it again,' he warned, 'I believe you need it.'

But then Varric got a grip and started to laugh. 'Finally!' he exclaimed, 'You took your time! I thought it would never happen and then where would I be with my clever idea!'

Fenris and Hawke shared a look. 'Meaning..?' the elf informed cautiously.

Varric put up a smug expression and leant back into his chair. 'You didn't know it, but the Amell property was confiscated by the Seekers.'

'And you didn't deign to tell me,' Hawke said flatly.

'Was confiscated,' Fenris, who was a good listener, reacted, 'I assume you remedied that.'

'I did. I pilfered the deed from Leliana and put it in the name of your future offspring. All legally done, signed by both out Spymaster and Aveline in her function of acting Viscount, and me of course. You can't blame me for not foreseeing you'd take ages to get pregnant.'

'Why not in my name? Or Fenris's?' Hawke's head was reeling. She had expected that moving back into the Estate would have been impossible and not only because Fenris and she were persona non grata. Obviously they had secretly returned to Kirkwall a couple of times, even to her old home, if only to retrieve some gear and stuff they needed for their new home. Or some items she had been attached to. And always they had to avoid Templars who stood on guard at the front door, and had to sneak in through the cellar by the Undercity route.

'Because, my lovely expecting heroine, you two were labelled criminals by the Chantry. But any offspring, by some loophole Aveline, of all people, discovered, could easily inherit the real estate, lock stock and all. So, I made sure the deed was in my hands before it could be destroyed. I must confess both Leliana and Aveline have been of great help.'

'I'm not at all surprised Aveline knew about the loophole,' Marian smiled, 'I think she knows "the Complete People's Law of Kirkwall" by heart.' She had to blink back sudden tears. 'Dear Aveline. I miss her.'

'Aunty Aveline,' replied Varric, with a sudden devilish streak in his eyes. 'Remember to let her change some particularly nasty smelling nappies when the time is there, well filled.'

'I take it she didn't let you buy the Hanged Man…?' Fenris let the question hover in the air, knowing the answer already. But still he was surprised by Varric's reaction.

The dwarf grimaced. 'She did, in the end. But she let me bleed for it. You have no idea how many favours she called in. She used me as a rubble cleaner, a social worker and banker all in one.'

'And you love her for it,' Marian said with a sweet smile.

'So,' asked Fenris, 'when this is all over, can we return to Kirkwall without repercussions?'

Varric finally took a sip from his cognac. He poured the elf a glass too and provided Hawke with a glass of juice he used to mux his rum with. 'Yes. As long as you are willing to hire the estate from your daughter or son.'

On this Hawke burst into a fit of laughter. 'You hear this?!' she guffawed to her belly, 'As if your Mum and Dad aren't going to pay plenty enough for you already! What with all the food and clothes and education you need! And the icing on the cake is you can throw us out when we deny you your weekly allowance!'

'Luckily it's not that easy,' Varric assured her. 'Junior will have to be at least twenty-three years old before he/she can pull that trick.'

Marian rose from her chair, walked around the table and took Varric in a warm embrace. 'You're my best friend,' she affirmed with misted over eyes. 'And you will always be.'

On the upper floor of the Heralds Rest the young recruit Donal Sutherland sat in perfect happiness at one of the wooden tables. He was drinking a, he thought, well earned pint of the best lager the pub had to offer. He had passed on the valuable information about roving bandits and not even that, he had been taken seriously and had been given the opportunity to wipe them out. Which he had done. With help of the Inquisition Forces, of course, but still. And the Lady Inquisitor had personally climbed the stairs to thank him for it.

Admittedly, she had spent a long time talking with the impressive Qunari named the Bull, and with his Adjutant Krem, but afterwards she had taken the trouble to come up and pay him a compliment.

And even more, she'd said he had done well and she had welcomed him in her ranks. He was still floating.

'Did you hear that?' Sutherland swooned, addressing the silent elf he had recruited along the way. He had been in dire need of help when his horse bolted and, by pure chance, the elf came along and helped him to retrieve his steed. And, being an elf, he had in no time calmed the animal down. He didn't say much and asked for even less, and Sutherland had been in some kind of elated state, still was. He only wanted to assist the Inquisition in their holy effort to fight the evil that had come over the world. He had talked enthusiastically about it to Voth, the suddenly appeared elf, and in the end had taken him with him to Skyhold. Without questions asked, because, well, why? He had helped him, hadn't he?

He had pointed him out to the Inquisitor, had even gone as far as to mention he was a mage, but he didn't consider that grassing out. The Inquisitor herself was a mage, wasn't she? She wouldn't mind another mage in her army. His breast swelled a little. He was part of the Inquisition Army now. He did important work. He heaved his cup with lager at the silent elven mage.

Voth smiled thinly back and toasted with his cup of red wine. He hardly took a sip. He looked around. He had had plenty of time and opportunity to scout the place; astonishing few people were om guard within the walls. It was surprisingly easy to plan an attack from the inside. Everyone was naively trusting, as if people only came here for good reasons.

He smiled again at the childish human who had dragged him within this fortress without any suspicion.

In his head he repeated the words of Maliphant, the leader of the Freemen in the Emerald Graves. 'Say little, listen instead. Collect intelligence. Keep your eyes peeled. Remember the layout of the buildings. Pay attention to the guards, notice the changing. Don't write anything down. Report only to me.'

Tomorrow, the young enthusiastic fool Sutherland had told him, they would go out on patrol. The perfect opportunity to slip away to the Emerald Graves and tell Maliphant all he knew. He was sure he would be rewarded.

Most people looked down on elves as second hand civilians, some considered them noble savages. Voth just thought they were all fools. He could slip through every border and boundary because no human would notice an elf. Even not the ones who thought about them as noble. They would hide in their guarded houses and practice philosophy.

He didn't even know if he wanted them to pay for all the humilities his people had to suffer under their heel. Sometimes he thought he didn't care any longer. But the money always came in handy. And so he had joined with the boy Sutherland, had followed him to Skyhold, had stamped every building, every warrior, every move the army made in his head.

Tomorrow he would slip away and go to the Emerald Graves and tell Maliphant there would be a Wintersend party in the castle that would provide for a score of opportunities. Would tell him about the weaknesses of the seemingly unconquerable fortress. And especially tell him about the whereabouts of the Inquisitor and how and where to abduct her.

He smiled somewhat more brightly and allowed the boy Sutherland to clap his shoulder.

The near holy enthusiasm of the army, that was the Inquisition's greatest flaw. Too little professionals. Too many pilgrims-turned-soldiers.

Voth shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't care less. Let them stew in their righteousness. He just wanted to survive.

And you thought we were reaching the end; just the Wintersend party and… done.

No. That is, I hope you like me to go on for a while longer. I have much more in store.

(And, seriously, Donal Sutherland?)

Thank you so much for reading so far!