A/N: Many thanks to SeekerOfMagick for your most kind revew! Ready to meet our new hero?
Alliance Forged
Lieutenant Gideon Fabria grumbled under his breath while he waited in the back of the overcrowded ballroom-turned-meeting hall. He had been summoned from the battlefield 'posthaste' to attend to the Magisterium, only to now be left tapping his foot while politicians drank and gossiped. His calloused hands itched for his broadsword, but coming armed would be considered improper form. He settled for swiping his fingers through the unruly black curls that reached his earlobes. Not quite military length, yet he managed to get away with it.
After the Siege at Ventus, the lieutenant wanted nothing more than to return to the field – not out of bloodlust or a warmongering spirit, but rather to see to his fellow troops. His company had been in a bad way when he glimpsed them in the heat of battle; if not for this all-important mission, none of them would have been in that city in the first place. After the appearance of the dragon, it all was a blur. And practically the second he was discovered alive, a messenger from the magisters had accosted him to demand a report on that bloody mystical Orb. If any of his men had been harmed because of this venture…
Gideon rolled his pale blue eyes as the mages finally began taking their seats. He sank further into the observing crowd, praying it would swallow his hulking presence. He had hoped his minimal black leather armor would make him feel safer among these vultures; it failed utterly. The warrior found himself leaning against the back wall, questioning his life choices up to this point. He scratched the dark stubble he had forgotten to shave that morning, unable to think of any answers.
His father had been an Altus mage who married young and in love to a humble merchant's daughter – a scandal that dogged his father's steps to this very day. Two of their three sons and one daughter had been born with magic; Gideon had not. He was considered a Soporati, a non-magical citizen who still held some semblance of respect. As a child, he had received the best education and the finest upbringing; yet he always felt as if he were in the shadow of his mage siblings, even the younger two.
At the age of twenty, the lad had joined the Imperial Legion. Not only did he expect it to sate his adventurous spirit and teach him what a life of finery could not, but it ensured a future with respect and a guaranteed living founded on his own terms. In the ten years since, all his expectations had proven true. There was even word of a promotion on the horizon. He was no longer a spoiled child, but an officer and a practical man with little tolerance for frivolity – like this meeting.
Determined to ignore the initial housekeeping matters of the Senate, Gideon's eyes sought out alternative entertainment. He was familiar enough with Magisterium procedure; he felt no need to be too intent until he was called. His attention was ultimately caught by two female dignitaries hovering near the doorway, likely foreigners from their attire. Both possessed red hair and hardened eyes filled with doubtless uncountable tales of adventure and destruction – it was a look he had seen many times from his fellow officers.
The taller female wore a dark, hooded coat and watched the room intently for danger - perhaps a bodyguard. The other one was an elf with features both fair and strong, wearing a formal coat of royal red. Her thick hair was pulled into an intricate braid that flaunted her pointed ears. It wasn't until he spotted the folded fabric where her left arm should have been that Gideon realized who this lady was: Inquisitor Inara Lavellan, the woman who had amassed an army built on pure inspiration, brought down Corypheus, and saved the world.
Now, despite the formal disbanding of the Inquisition, the Herald had an uncountable network of spies and scouts, and had the ear of nearly every country's leader. Many declared that she would be the one to stop the new threat of the reemerged elven god Fen'Harel; yet there was a growing rumor that she and the world-eating deity had been lovers. He wondered what was true.
"You haven't talked much these past few days," the hooded one said quietly, the accent of an Orlesian heavy on her tongue. "I know this matter has been troubling you. What will you tell them?"
Inquisitor Lavellan's gaze did not waver from the magisters, but she shifted her weight in discomfort. When she spoke, Gideon discovered at least partly why so many had followed her. Her voice was rich, passionate, commanding, and wise, yet he could hear an undertone of exhaustion and sorrow.
"We need the power and resources of the magisters; I will be the first to admit that. But I will not sacrifice the principles that the Inquisition stood for. I will not taint its memory with the blood of slaves. If I must choose between what is convenient and what is right…" Her human companion frowned. "Will you support me?"
"Always," was the unhesitating reply. "I have faith in our current resources, but I get the feeling you will not want to yet rejoin our main force?"
The Inquisitor smirked.
"Our work here is not yet done, Leliana, whatever words may be exchanged today. We're close. I can feel it."
Their conversation was ended by the Archon's summons, and the women made their way forward. Gideon too nudged toward the front of the sparse crowd, curious as to what the magisters could want with the Herald today. It was said she had been in the city for over a month with little to show for any formal negotiations – something about a condition proposed by the Senate and their doubts in Fen'Harel's threat. Gideon too had once been one of the skeptics; however, recent acquaintances had shaken those misgivings to the core.
Following a few hollow words of formality, the Inquisitor and Archon stared at each other in silence, a seeming contest of wills passing between them. Finally, Radonis spoke.
"Do you have your answer, Lady Inquisitor? The rebellion has shown no sign of breaking. Neither have the Qunari."
"Have you found the third Orb?" the elf challenged teasingly. "The Solasans grow stronger by the day, and they may yet beat you to the objective. My scouts spotted at least one Foci be taken through an eluvian only last month. They are on the move, and time is running short."
"No, we have not," the mage allowed, his eyes downturned with false submission. So, they had read Lieutenant Fabria's report. Then why was he here? "But we know its location." Radonis folded his hands politely, a snake preparing to strike. "I believe we have given you ample time to consider our offer, and the situation within our own walls has only escalated. What is your decision, Lady Inquisitor? I trust you to make the right choice for your cause. Will you help us?"
"To reign in your slaves?" Lavellan sighed, hooking her hand comfortably into the back of her belt. "In recent history, it has been revealed that, during the days of Arlathan, my people were subjected to bondage under the rule of the Evanuris. It matters not if the leaders are false gods or despotic men. Tyranny may have many faces."
"Those are radical words, Inquisitor." The Archon's eyes glittered hungrily. "Were you a citizen here, they might be considered treasonous."
"I suppose it is well I am a diplomat not of Tevinter." Master Dorian Pavus barely managed to mask a smile behind his hand. "I will remain to assist with the threat of the Qun and the Solasans, but I draw the line at internal political affairs. Besides, I cannot risk my position with the other kingdoms that do not favor involuntary servitude. The words I spoke just now of despotic men and tyranny were not mine, but those of the King of Ferelden. I trust you will understand."
The Archon thought he had her cornered, but the Dalish had negotiated her way from outright defiance to diplomatic tact. Of course she could not help quash the slave rebellion! She had a half-dozen other countries with already established ties who did not share Tevinter views on slavery. Should she help with this, she would risk their ire. Gideon's lips ticked upward in approval. A loophole. Clever girl.
"Very well. I appreciate your position," Radonis ultimately admitted defeat. "However, I am not sure what we can offer with our attentions so divided."
"Simply to allow my help where I can give it, and allow me to be privy to any information regarding the Dread Wolf. Should he be confronted, I will be there."
The Archon's fingertips had gone white as he pressed them against the table surface. Though he tried to mask his thoughts, the turning cogs of his plotting mind were quite evident. He was likely debating whether it was better to have the Inquisitor close at hand or as far as possible; she was, after all, the only touchable connection to Fen'Harel – and Gideon suspected that Radonis knew this quite well. He also speculated that not all the magisters were fully convinced of an ancient mythical elven deity suddenly being such a threat compared to what was in front of them. Politics…
"You are welcome to stay in our city, of course, despite the danger. But you could just as easily advise from a place that better suits your sensibilities."
"I may yet be of use here," the woman gracefully shrugged. "There remains the threat of the Qunari, which could easily spread to the rest of Thedas if not stopped here. That is certainly not just a Tevinter problem. I may also help connect you with the resources of other countries, should the need come to pass."
"Very well." With a sudden smile, the lead mage sunk back into his chair. "The intelligence of your network is welcome. We would ask for a slightly more formal approach with this alliance, however. From now on, you will be exchanging information with Captain Gideon Fabria, formally of the twenty-second scouting infantry under Captain Macarius. His unit was responsible for tracking down the location of the third Foci before they were cut off by the Qunari. And the survivors of the battle are already singing of his heroics in the field."
Gideon strode out of the crowd, trying to ignore the hollowness of the Archon's praise. The magisters knew full well that his unit had ignored the directive to return to the Senate immediately after they learned of the bloody Orb's hiding place. They had stayed to bolster the forces of Ventus until help could come, fully aware that their knowledge of the Foci would be the only sure way of commanding the Magisterium's attention. Those trapped in Ventus would have likely been left to die, otherwise.
"I appreciate your gracious words, Lord Archon," the soldier managed. Oh, how he hated this. The Legion had protocol, but at least it was honest. "But might I remind you that I am a lieutenant. I would not presume to claim a rank greater than that which is bestowed upon me. And, with all due respect, it is not your place to promote officers of the Legion."
"And your superiors have given their full consent," Radonis snapped, probably sickened simply by the warrior's lack of magic. "I expect commendations for your bravery at the Siege will be announced shortly. You will not be returning to your unit…Captain."
Anger warmed Gideon's insides as he straightened from his bow, no longer content to grovel before these overdressed nugs.
"Sire, though I am flattered by these honors, I cannot simply abandon my men! They were left behind at Ventus and are likely wondering after my whereabouts. I fear my captain may have been among the casualties. I must return to the frontlines."
The Archon's jaw dropped in exaggerated shock as he gasped,
"Were you not told? Your men are dead. You no longer have a detachment to which you can return. Due to your successes at Ventus, you are being called to a greater purpose." The feigned sympathy disappeared as quickly as it had come. The news left Gideon with a dull ache in his belly. He had lost men before, but this… "We will discuss the details of your assignment later, but while we have our noble guest in our midst…"
He had nearly forgotten her presence. For the first time, the newly appointed captain looked into the eyes of the leader of the grand Inquisition. Her gaze was wary, and from this angle, the dark circles of many sleepless nights were apparent. Yet those eyes told a thousand tales – hidden, secret, and soul-crushing. He did not envy her responsibilities.
"An honor to meet you, Your Worship," Gideon inclined his head, forcing himself back into a calm state. He had withstood the sounds of war; he could withstand the proprieties of society for a day.
"Is there anything you would wish of Inquisitor Lavellan?" Radonis pestered.
His new contact, the esteemed Herald of Andraste, observed him with glittering eyes.
"What sort of information will you be looking for, Captain?" she purred smoothly. "The positions of Qunari forces perhaps? Resources? Or the trail of another Foci or other artifacts? I understand that venture consumed much of your time during these past months."
What would he ask of her? The military part of him required knowledge of the Qunari's movements. But their people needed resources, with the growing number of displaced refugees from the coast. And then there were the blasted Orbs that might possess the power to defeat their enemies in the right hands – or mean the end of the world in the wrong hands. He took his time contemplating the options.
But then, the man's lips twisted into a smirk. There would be time for favors and deep discussions, but the magisters had wasted his time enough today. He tired of their underhanded wiles dancing around with empty words. They had the nerve to surprise him with the news of his dead comrades, and now expected to get something useful for their troubles only a moment afterward? They had another thing coming…
With all the sobriety he could manage, Gideon leaned conspiratorially toward the elf. He could sense the hooded Orlesian's tension and the magisters' anticipation. She was quite a pretty thing, despite everything she had been through. He only hoped she had a good sense of humor as well.
"How 'bout we start with a kiss?" he grinned impishly.
The Inquisitor blushed behind a tensed jaw, but he saw the masked amusement. He liked her already. The mages burst into an uproar, accusing the Archon of promoting a buffoon. It did not concern him, however. Radonis always got what he wanted, and Gideon's dependable record spoke for itself. The break allowed him time to slip back into the crowd without further ado, hellbent on escaping from this room.
Before he passed the threshold, however, he once again spotted Inara Lavellan and her companion, who had also evaded attention. She was being approached by two of the less conniving magisters on the outer edges of the disruptive gathering.
The soldier managed to catch a few bits of the conversation. Dorian Pavus scolded the woman for her bold language, but promptly applauded the steadfast and entertaining gesture. The second mage was a little less forthright in his opinion, but Inara abruptly grabbed his arm in earnest as she pulled him aside. Her tone was quiet, yet deadly and demanding:
"Feynriel. I need you to get a message to the Blue Wraith, or one of your other rebel contacts."
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