And before them, empty,
Outstretched lay the land
Which led to the gates of Minrathous.
- Canticle of Shartan 10:7
Halamshiral, Orlais, Bloomingtide, 9:44 Dragon
Idhren spent two days abed. Mostly sleeping. Alternately warring with grief and panic, and answering endless questions about "what comes next?"
He hadn't actually thought that far ahead.
It would take time to wrap up all the Inquisition's loose ends. Josephine had already begun the process with their political allies. The Inquisition's remaining funds could be used to compensate all the soldiers and workers who would now be out of a job. Provided they didn't all disappear into the wilderness to continue Solas' or the Qun's dirty work.
"Will you remain in Skyhold?"
"No." It surprised Idhren how easy the decision came now that he considered it. But without the Inquisition there wasn't much reason for him to stay. "Perhaps I'll take up Varric on his offer of a home and title in Kirkwall."
"You wouldn't go with Dorian to Tevinter?"
"Maybe," Idhren said thoughtfully. They had not discussed it since the last fight and Idhren was wary to bring it up. "Eventually," he deflected. "He's leaving in only a few days, and there's too much that needs finishing here."
That was something they had discussed - how long Dorian should stay in the south. The man had argued for staying through the entirety of Idhren's convalescence. And while the idea was certainly tempting, when Idhren was well enough to think clearly he realised it was a selfish desire on both their parts. With no more Inquisition for him to be ambassador to, there was no official reason for Dorian to stay. He needed to return and deal with his father's affairs sooner rather than later.
They both still had work to do.
His arm still hurt.
The healer that saw him twice a day claimed it was healing well, but Idhren had seen now the extent of the damage. The new pink scar tissue that climbed up to his shoulder like a clinging vine. He nearly vomited at the sight. Not because of the gore, he'd seen worse injuries in his time, caused them even, but because that was his arm. His arm wasn't supposed to look like that. His arm wasn't supposed to end there.
It surprised him that he could actually feel the loss of the Anchor. He'd grown so used to it over the past three years he'd almost forgotten the way it had amplified his connection to the Fade. How his awareness of the Veil had seemed sharper.
The loss was palpable in nearly the same way as the loss of his limb, though not to the extent.
Was his magic weaker because he'd lost the Anchor? Because he'd lost his arm? Or because he was physically so weak at the moment? Or was he imagining the whole thing?
Admittedly he hadn't attempted very much magic yet. But the little tendrils of static he had once sent dancing between his fingers, had so easily directed into fanciful shapes and tickled pleasantly across flesh, escaped his grasp like flighty birds. With the loss of his hand it seemed he had lost his finesse in magic as well as in life.
And that was the most frustrating thing about it. All of those simple, everyday tasks he could no longer perform with ease. Merely dressing and eating could prove a struggle.
It was a good thing he'd already decided he could no longer be the front line of the Inquisition, or what remained of it, because he wasn't certain he'd be physically capable.
"I don't believe for one second that you're actually going to retire," Dorian commented to him. "You'd die of boredom even if you could learn to keep your nose out of everyone's business. Which I know you won't."
Idhren sat on the bed and watched as Dorian packed for his return trip to Tevinter. The scene felt entirely too familiar for his liking. "Obviously not," he assured, "But there's nothing wrong with letting everyone think so. Besides," he paused and looked down at his arm, "It doesn't seem as though I'm much of a front line fighter anymore."
Dorian stopped what he was doing and looked at Idhren, concern creasing his brow. "Your strength will return when you're properly healed and rested, you know that."
He did know that. And he was feeling his magic return along with his physical strength. Maybe it wouldn't return to quite the level the Anchor had allowed, but he wouldn't be an invalid. "It's not just that," Idhren murmured. "A staff is a two-handed weapon."
"Ah," Dorian said simply. "That is true."
"It's fine," Idhren said, trying to convince himself as much as Dorian. "I won't be helpless." He still had magic, he could learn how to use a dagger more effectively. "I just won't be committing mass murder again any time soon."
"Some people will be quite pleased to hear that, I'm certain."
"Oh, I have no doubt," Idhren agreed. But the people that mattered would never think him retired. Solas knew him too well. He would expect Idhren to continue working behind the scenes, pulling strings and finding people just as capable in the field.
"What are you going to do, then?" Dorian asked. "Or have you not decided yet."
Idhren hadn't. Not entirely. Every plan he'd had before the Council needed to be reconsidered. While the Inquisition's end had always been a possibility, he hadn't expected it to go like this. He hadn't expected it to come hand-in-hand with yet another world-ending crisis. And that made his ideas of following Dorian back to Tevinter for a peaceful retirement of domesticity and quiet political troublemaking rather more complicated. "I was thinking of leaving Skyhold to the College of Enchanters." That much had been in the back of his mind for a while now, and could still be managed. "And maybe I'll take up Varric's offer of a house and title in Kirkwall."
"If you'd ever been to Kirkwall you might not be so keen on that thought," Dorian replied disdainfully.
"Varric says it's quite cleaned up since the chantry debacle."
"I suspect Varric's definition of 'cleaned up' and ours might be rather different."
"I think you've been in Tevinter too long," Idhren replied. "We'll have to make sure you get away from there more often in the future."
Dorian let out a soft huff of a laugh, but his eyes were serious when he asked, "Does this mean you've given up your plans of following me back north?"
They hadn't spoken about it since before the Council, and that conversation hadn't gone particularly well. "That depends." Idhren wasn't interested in another fight at the moment. "Are you going to tell me I can't?"
"No," Dorian replied plainly. And that surprised Idhren. He had expected at least a token protest. "I did agree that if you still wished to join me in Tevinter after this mess I wouldn't stop you. And I am a man of my word. Besides, I…" He hesitated, and had that look on his face that said he was battling against a lifetime of conditioning. Idhren waited while he worked past the emotional blockage. "I did some thinking while you were… unconscious." Dying, he didn't say, but it hung between them all the same. "That if it weren't for this stupid council I might have never known anything was wrong with you. And even if I did, I might not have gotten here in time to…" He swallowed thickly and made a vague gesture with his hands. "Well I wasn't much use anyway, I realize, but still…"
Idhren stood up from the bed and caught one of Dorian's hands, which were beginning to ramble as much as his mouth was. It successfully silenced both. "It's okay," he said. "I'm glad you were here."
"As am I," Dorian replied softly.
"There is a lot I need to wrap up here," Idhren said, looking down at their joined hands. Dorian's nails were bit down to the quick. "It will take a while. But after that I think I rather would like to join you."
"It won't get in the way of your latest campaign to save the world?" Dorian asked.
"Hardly," Idhren replied. He sat back down and tugged gently on Dorian's arm to make the man join him. "Skyhold is very nice, but you must admit it's horrendously inconvenient. And not at all secret anymore. Minrathous might be an improvement."
"You plan to run your new spy ring out of my family home, then?" Dorian asked, beginning to smile.
"Do you object?" Idhren asked.
"Not at all," Dorian said quickly. "It's the perfect cover, now that I think about it. We can pass them all off as servants or foreign guests, no one will be the wiser."
Idhren grinned. "That settles it, then."
"I suppose it does."
Dorian left only days later.
And with a clean bill of health Idhren was pulled back into negotiations.
Unfortunately, the Exalted Council had not ended with his last dramatic appearance. It had merely changed directions. Three years on, the Inquisition was a massive organization with land holdings and treaties and military troops stationed all across southern Thedas. And all of those things needed to be sorted before Idhren could officially throw off the title of Inquisitor for good.
It took a week of closed-door talks for the minutia to be settled to Josephine's satisfaction. And then for the official documents to be written up and signed by all present.
And then it was done.
With a handful of signatures at the bottom of a very long and specifically worded document, the Inquisition, in its official capacity, was no more.
Skyhold, August, 9:44 Dragon
"I never could have imagined that disbanding an organization would require so much paperwork," Idhren complained into the crystal sitting by his elbow.
"Well Skyhold was a veritable city-state at the end, there," Dorian's voice came back to him through that same crystal, soft and only slightly distorted. "I don't think anyone expected you all to just pack up at leave all of a sudden."
"That's true," Idhren said, and sighed. "It feels as though there's more paperwork needed to end the Inquisition than it took to run the damn thing, but maybe it's only happening all at once."
"That seems likely," Dorian agreed. "You would not believe how many papers I had to sign to officially take over my father's position."
"No, that I would believe," Idhren replied. "I'm more surprised you didn't have to sign some kind of blood pact."
Dorian's chuckle carried into the room and Idhren had to admit that this was preferable to letters, but it was still a pale substitution for actually standing in the same room. "Don't give them any ideas."
"Oh, I have plenty of ideas for the Magisterium, but that's not one of them," Idhren said.
Through the crystal, from the other end of the world, Dorian groaned. "Of course you do," he sighed. "You'll make me go prematurely grey, you know. I can already feel it coming on."
"Always so dramatic," Idhren teased. He signed the last of the papers before him - reference letters for Skyhold staff now seeking new employment - and sat back in his seat while the ink dried. "I know how to behave myself when I need to, it's not as though I'm going to waltz in one day and make demands of the Archon."
"I wouldn't put it past you," Dorian groused. "But I suppose I'll comfort myself with the knowledge that you'll be occupied with your own endeavors."
"That is the hope, at least," Idhren said. If he were completely honest he was at a bit of a loss in that regard. As it turned out, there were very few people Leliana could verify the loyalty of and with the possibility of triple agents in their ranks Idhren was not willing to leave any doubt. "How are things on your end?" he asked instead.
"Oh, dreadful as usual," Dorian said, though his tone was light. "I had to speak to my mother this morning. She's rather cross with me I'm afraid, but that's to be expected. Thinks I'll run the family into the ground or some such rot."
"What, with your revolutionary ideas like paying the servants?"
"Precisely," Dorian confirmed. "I've blamed most of it on you, by the way. Just so you're aware."
"Oh, thank you so much," Idhren drawled. "That's absolutely the first impression I wanted to make on my in-laws."
"I knew it was. You're welcome."
She was probably never going to like him anyway, if she was even remotely like Dorian's father, but Idhren had wanted to attempt at least a civil relationship. So much for that. "Well, I suspect I'll get to meet her properly soon enough."
"Oh?" Dorian asked, sounding suddenly far more engaged in the conversation. "Does that mean the end of your paperwork is in sight?"
"Unless Josephine springs anything new on me in the next few days, I do believe I've just signed the last of it," Idhren announced. He picked up the sending crystal in its locket and slipped the chain over his head.
"Congratulations," Dorian said as Idhren stood and gathered up his hopefully very last stack of official Inquisition correspondence. "I feel as though we should celebrate in some way."
"Well I know what I would suggest if you were here, or I was there," Idhren commented.
Dorian laughed. "I can imagine," he replied. "But alas, I am not, and you are not. Although if that truly is the last of your official work it may not be much longer."
"Try not to sound too eager, people might think you like me."
"Perish the thought."
"In all seriousness, though," Idhren said, "Even if I left tomorrow it would take the better part of a month to reach Minrathous."
"Yes, I've very recently made the journey myself, if you recall," Dorian sighed. "Twice. And it may be rather more difficult for you."
"Oh?" Idhren asked. He paused on a landing, nearly at the bottom of the tower now. "Why do you say that?"
"Naturally I reported to the Magisterium what happened with the Qunari." Dorian explained, "They were none too pleased. It's given the warmongers among them something to grasp onto, and the paranoid ones are falling to their scare tactics. Now I suspect borders will be tightened as soon as they can gather enough votes. And I would certainly advise against sea travel until further notice."
Yes, if the Imperium was tightening its borders in fear of the Qunari, they would certainly be focusing on the northern sea borders first. "I'll make sure to arrange travel by land, then," Idhren replied. "The Magisterium is that spooked? The Viddasala is dead, and I thought you said the Arishok is claiming she acted without orders?"
"The Arishok is claiming whatever will keep us placated," Dorian replied. "But it's not a wholly unreasonable response. I think they're mostly spooked by the potential invasion via eluvian, and there's not much we can do against that at the moment. Tightening borders is something they can control, and you know how much Magisters love being in control."
"They're scared because for once the Qunari had access to magic they don't," Idhren realized.
"Precisely," Dorian confirmed. "So you can imagine why the Lucerni's grumbles about blood magic and slavery aren't gaining much traction at the moment."
"I can," Idhren agreed. "How much have you told them about Solas?" He decided to delay taking these last papers to Josephine, instead taking a seat on a stair and stacking them in his lap. The Lady Ambassador didn't need to hear this particular conversation, plausible deniability would do her well.
"Very little that's true, if I'm perfectly honest," was Dorian's reply. "Tevinter is the last place I want to give anyone any more wild ideas about mucking around with the Veil. As far as they're concerned he's just some madman leading a cult of angry elves who want to relive the glory days."
If only it were that simple. In fact, if that's all it was he might even be on their side. He wondered how many of Solas' underlings knew the full breadth of his plan. "That's probably for the best," he sighed. "Let the Magisterium have the Qunari, I'll manage the ancient god trying to destroy the world on my own. Again."
"No rest for the wicked," Dorian commented.
"I hate politics," Idhren grumbled.
"As do I," Dorian agreed. "And yet here we are."
Minrathous, Tevinter Imperium, 9:45 Dragon
It was eight years since Idhren had last set foot in Tevinter and vowed to himself that he would never do so again. Eight years was not so long, but it felt he had lived an entire lifetime since then. Two, even. He was certainly a very different person than he had been back then.
Tevinter, he expected, was largely the same.
At his side, Krem grimaced at the sight of the city gates and said dryly, "Welcome home, I guess."
He'd hired out the Bull's Chargers for one last mission: an escort from Skyhold to Minrathous with a lengthy stop in Kirkwall. Because by the time he'd finished wrapping up things at Skyhold and packing the few belongings he was bringing along, it was already winter. And he wasn't about to cross the whole continent in the dead of winter.
"I doubt they're eager to have me back," Idhren replied at length. He cast a glance sideways at his friend, who had been looking more and more wary the farther into the country they progressed. "You could have stayed at the border with Bull, you know," he said not for the first time, "Between the two of us I think Rocky and I can handle anyone who wants to give us trouble. Right?" he called over his shoulder at the dwarf, who was driving their small wagon.
"Aye, sir, they wouldn't know what hit 'em," he called back cheerfully.
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Krem grumbled.
Idhren laughed, "I solemnly swear we will not light anyone on fire unless they attack us first," he declared, "Even if they deserve it." Krem rolled his eyes, but he did crack a smile. "I'm serious though," Idhren continued, sobering, "If you're at all concerned about getting through the gates unrecognized I'll understand."
"Thank you, mother," Krem said with an annoyed look in Idhren's direction, "But I'm fine."
"It's just that you've been looking more uncomfortable the further we get."
"I'm uncomfortable because I've been on this damn horse for weeks," Krem protested. "Not because of this shithole country. Maker, you're worse than the chief sometimes."
"Alright alright," Idhren held up his hand in defeat. Behind, he could hear Rocky snickering to himself. "In that case I'll do my best to get you out of the saddle and into a proper bed by the end of the day."
Rocky's snickers turned into outright guffaws. Krem groaned and covered his face with his hands.
"That didn't come out right," Idhren bemoaned.
As it turned out, they made it through the city gates with no difficulty whatsoever. It helped to have friends in high places. Though they had significantly less of those here in the north.
Minrathous itself was largely as Idhren remembered it. Main streets lined with architecture so ancient that sometimes magic was the only thing holding it up. Monuments to an empire long gone but not forgotten. Idhren recalled being amazed by the grandeur of the city his first time here, but now he found it tacky and excessive.
They found the Pavus mansion with no difficulty. One in a line of equally ostentatious homes along a wide avenue that led toward the city's center, and the Magisterium. Canidius' Minrathous home was in this same neighborhood. Not for the first time since this trip had begun, Idhren wondered what had become of the man, but the thought passed quickly.
"You must be Master Lavellan." They were met at the gates by a middle aged human man, who bowed his greying head to them as Idhren slid off his dracolisk's back. "My name is Lyco. I'm the household manager for this estate."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Idhren replied, offering the man a smile and a respectful nod. "I hope Dorian has not been giving you too much trouble since he took up the title."
"No trouble I cannot handle, I assure you," Lyco replied. "You all must be tired from your travels, please come inside, I've already called someone to gather your things and tend to your animals."
"Thank you," Idhren said. "You have someone familiar with dracolisks, I hope?"
"Of course," Lyco answered. "The Pavus family has always kept them. Although I've never seen them ride one before."
Idhren laughed and patted Bella's neck affectionately. She nipped at his coat, clearly tired and annoyed, and he scolded her with a pointed look. "Neither had anyone in the south," he said, "But I find it makes quite the impression on people."
For the first time Lyco's smile looked more than just polite. He looked legitimately impressed, or at least amused. "Of that I have no doubt."
A moment later three elves appeared from around the corner of the house. They took in hand each of the mounts as well as the cart horses and began leading the animals back the way they had come. "Your things will be delivered to your rooms," Lyco said, beckoning them into the manor.
Inside the home looked rather the way Idhren had expected. In style it was not all that different from any other magister's home he had been to, all marble and gold decorated with icons of past family members and historical scenes. As they entered he heard Krem hiss softly behind him. "It's almost worse than Orlais."
"It's definitely worse than Orlais," Idhren commented.
If Lyco heard them he was professional enough to ignore their comments. "Lord Pavus had several meetings scheduled today and I apologize that he hasn't returned yet to greet you himself. I know he was looking forward to your arrival."
That was disappointing, but Idhren had expected it. They'd spoken over the sending crystals that morning and Dorian mentioned the meetings. It used to be Idhren stuck in meetings all day while Dorian whiled away his days, now it seemed their roles were reversed. "That's alright," Idhren assured, "I can hardly blame you for the machinations of politics."
The look on Lyco's face said that he had definitely been blamed for that in the past. Idhren wished he weren't surprised. "Shall I show you to your rooms?" he offered, changing the subject smoothly. "I'm sure you'll want to rest and refresh yourselves after such a long trip."
After a glance at his companions to gather their opinions, Idhren nodded. "That would be lovely. Thank you."
Krem and Rocky were dropped off at their rooms first, though neither seemed to know what to do with the lavish appointments of a magister's guest room, but Lyco hesitated before continuing further. "Forgive me," he said, pausing to face Idhren, "Lord Pavus informed me you would be rooming with him, but I wanted to check with you as well. Mistress Pavus has - had - her own suite of rooms separate from the late magister's, and I made sure those were prepared for you as well, in case you would prefer."
Idhren was momentarily taken aback by the question. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised, though, given the way upper class marriages usually went in Tevinter. And, after the shock wore off, he was rather touched that Lyco had been thoughtful enough to ask after his comfort. "That wasn't necessary," he assured, "But thank you. I think we can let Mistress Pavus keep the suite, should she ever deign to visit."
Lyco responded only with a small bow and, "Very well," before continuing down the hall.
Dorian's bedroom looked like it was the only room that had been redecorated so far, and Idhren wasn't at all surprised. He'd taken over the master suite, what would have been his father's rooms. Seemed unlikely Dorian would be able to sleep here at all without replacing ever piece of furniture.
"Your luggage will be up shortly," Lyco assured him, standing in the doorway as Idhren looked around. "Is there anything else I can do for you at the moment?"
"Actually," Idhren turned and offered the man a smile. "If you aren't too busy, there were a few things I wanted to ask."
"Of course."
Idhren didn't like how he was simply standing in the doorway as though waiting to be dismissed, but he supposed that was what the man was used to. What most slaves and servants in Tevinter were used to. But Idhren had always tried to be friendlier with the servants at Skyhold. "How long have you worked for the Pavus family?" he asked.
"Nearly my whole life," Lyco replied easily.
A slave, then. Idhren had expected most of the staff to have been slaves, but he still didn't like having it confirmed. "Dorian has granted your freedom, I hope? Or offered it, at least? I know it can be a lengthy process."
"He has," Lyco confirmed. He glanced down at his hands so quickly it was almost impossible to catch. Even years removed Idhren recognized the unconscious fidgets of an uncomfortable slave. "He offered it to the whole household. It was one of the first things he did after taking over his father's position. It was a shock."
"I can imagine," Idhren replied. "How are you handling the transition?" he asked. "I heard that some ran away as soon as they were able. And that others refused?"
"That is true," Lyco said. Again that glance down, like he wasn't certain where to focus his eyes when he spoke. "For me, little has changed. I have a good position in the household, and Lord Pavus allowed everyone to stay. But he has also ensured that we are paid and given time to ourselves, and I don't really know what to do with it."
Idhren couldn't help smiling. He'd been sent to the circle shortly after gaining his freedom and had plenty to occupy his time, but the transition had been jarring all the same.
"If you'll forgive me for speaking out of turn," Lyco continued. "Is it true that you were also once a slave?"
"It's true," Idhren said easily. "So please don't hesitate to speak your mind to me. I try very hard not to let my new status go to my head." Then he added, "And I'll try to make sure Dorian doesn't, either."
That managed to pull a small smile out of Lyco. A genuine smile. "I think you've found the life every slave dreams of," he said softly.
In some sense, Idhren agreed. It had been a long, hard road, but he'd found the thing he'd wanted so desperately in his youth. Happiness. And if even one of the former slaves in this household managed to find that, freeing them would be worthwhile. "It wasn't without loss," he admitted. Lyco's smile faded and his eyes went to Idhren's left side. The most obvious thing he had lost in his life, but not necessarily the most painful. "But you have to fight for the things you want, sometimes. I'm hopeful that what Dorian and the Lucerni are doing will give more people the opportunity."
Dorian arrived home in the late afternoon. Idhren had since bathed and changed out of his traveling clothes and was taking himself on a tour of the mansion that would be his home for the foreseeable future. He had found his way into what he presumed was the magister's study and was staring in dismay at hopelessly disorganized shelves of books when he heard someone enter the room and turned to see who it was.
Nothing had changed about Dorian's appearance in the months they had been parted, save that he looked to be in need of a haircut, but he was done up in the most outlandishly Tevene outfit Idhren had seen him wear since - well, since the last time either of them were in this country together.
"Amatus," Dorian breathed when he saw him, breaking into a wide smile.
Idhren's feet moved without conscious thought, carrying him across the floor and into Dorian's embrace. "I missed you," he sighed against the man's collar as arms twined around his waist and squeezed him tight.
"As did I," Dorian replied. His embrace loosened and he leaned back to look down at Idhren. "I half expected you to have done something else new and outlandish to your hair while we were apart. I see the habit is breaking."
Idhren laughed, "Well, I can't become too predictable. I have to keep you on your toes."
"Ah yes, of course," Dorian nodded with false solemnity. At length he took a step back, releasing Idhren from his arms. "How was your trip? No trouble coming through the gates?"
"None whatsoever," Idhren assured, "A boring, uneventful journey the whole way."
"It was bound to happen sooner or later."
"I suppose it was."
Releasing Idhren fully, Dorian stepped over to the wall behind the desk, which housed a small liquor cabinet. "Have you been settling in?" he asked, selecting two glasses and filling them with wine. "What do you think of the place?"
Idhren accepted the glass that was offered to him as he answered, "I think it's hideous. When are we redecorating?"
Dorian laughed aloud. "I thought you might think so," he said. "Starting with this, I suppose?" he asked, knowingly tilting his glass toward the bookshelves.
"Obviously," Idhren replied. "It's a disaster."
"Well, you have my full permission to rectify the situation," Dorian promised him. "I doubt I could stop you anyway."
"You couldn't," Idhren assured him. But all of that could wait for now.
"Welcome home, by the way," Dorian added. He lightly tapped his wine glass against Idhren's, causing the pair to chime.
"Never thought I'd be hearing that in regards to this place again," Idhren said, "But here we are." He took a hefty swallow of wine. It was delicious, the Empress of Orlais wished she could drink this wine. Tevinter did have its good points.
"Here we are," Dorian agreed, taking a drink as well.
"And Dorian?"
"Yes?"
"Let's get married."
The statement sent Dorian into a brief state of shock. Speechless, he gaped wide eyed at Idhren's grinning face for a long moment. "Oh," he managed eventually, face still struggling to decide which emotion to express. Surprise, wonder, joy. "My mother will have a heart attack," he said almost to himself. Then he grinned, said "Let's do it," and kissed Idhren square on the mouth.
The End.