Summary: With a Dragonborn child to find, Miraak needs to talk to its Dragonborn father... only to find out said father knows both more and less than expected. Leliana's information opens up further intriguing possibilities... but shuts them down for someone else. Meanwhile, trouble is brewing out in the Dales and when it leads to Miraak not getting the stone for his memorial, it's time to go and investigate.
A/N: A long chapter with lots going on! The Dragonborn Child plot continues, there's redone versions of various canon cutscenes, and while going for the Emprise du Lion right after taking Skyhold is a Very Bad Idea due to everything being about level 19, that doesn't apply to the First Dragonborn who fell out of the Fade about level 50. So off to the Emprise it is!
The morning after, and with Dorian in tow, Miraak went looking for Alistair. Because Dragonborn babies. At least one Dragonborn child anyway, and Miraak needed answers, and Dorian was tagging along because he was desperately curious himself.
Miraak had just about forgiven him for the previous night, but damned if he was admitting out loud just how much he liked being petted and fussed over.
It was almost as much as he liked the new collar Dorian had got him. A velvet ribbon choker with an enchanted Inquisition badge on the front, that could be discreetly worn with anything and looked like a badge of office, not a badge of ownership. Dorian had fastened it on that morning and kissed him gently, telling him if he liked wearing one that much, he should have one he could wear openly.
Miraak had held him, feeling suddenly very emotional, which was ridiculous but… damn it. It was a thoughtful gesture and unexpected and Miraak had realised Dorian was worth everything. Even if his brand of sadism was ridiculously fluffy. For Dorian, Miraak would put up with much.
Alistair was sitting with Fiona, having breakfast in the Great Hall with Varric and Alistair seemed to have introduced Fiona as his mother already.
"You are going public already?" Miraak asked, and Alistair looked up, arm round Fiona and beaming.
"Yes!" Alistair said, smiling adoringly at Fiona, who glanced down, blushing. "We've done Leliana already. And we ran into Solas so I told him. We looked for Blackwall too but he's sleeping in for some reason. Not like him but maybe he had a rough night. Never mind. Shall we do the tavern as well? We should tell Bull and Krem at least."
"We should, it'll get word spread without us having to do it," Fiona said, looking up to meet Miraak's eyes. "Your Worship. This parenthood thing will take much getting used to but I regret nothing. Thank you, Inquisitor. You don't know what you've brought me – us."
"I can guess," Miraak said, instinctively squeezing Dorian's hand. "But if you're finished with breakfast, I would speak with you in private. It turns out we have more news."
They were, just about. Fiona brought her tea with her, Alistair swallowed the remaining half of his croissant in one go, earning a tut from his mother, and then both followed Miraak back to the quarters.
"Your table manners, Alistair, really," Dorian sighed. "You can't just swallow food all in one when it's bigger than your mouth."
"It's a talent," Alistair said, smirking… at least until he remembered he had a mother now and said mother was giving him her most disapproving look.
"Alistair. You're not in a Warden barracks now. Behave."
"Yes mum. Sorry mum."
"Ah, don't worry, such things don't bother me," Miraak laughed, glancing at his blushing brother. "Do you know, back on Solstheim, it was the custom to consume an entire herring by swallowing it? Those were the days."
Alistair was trying to imagine this, Fiona had done and immediately wished she hadn't and Dorian looked like he might be about to vomit.
"Don't worry, fariiki, we'd remove the fins, scales, head and tail first. And we did cure the meat. We weren't complete barbarians."
"Oh my god," Dorian whispered. "I can't look at you right now."
Miraak just smirked more. Revenge was so sweet sometimes.
"Shall I get them to prepare some for you? I'm feeling nostalgic."
"NO!" Dorian cried. "Maker, no – let's get to the quarters. I think I need to sit down."
Miraak left off teasing Dorian, and they settled in the quarters, Dorian stepping out to the balcony for some fresh air, while Miraak indicated for Alistair and Fiona to sit on the couch while he summoned the chair from his desk.
"Dorian can have the bed when he's feeling better," Miraak said, glancing after him, starting to feel slightly guilty. Only slightly, of course. Dorian was probably just being dramatic.
"So what did you want to talk about?" Fiona asked. "Is there a problem with me acknowledging Alistair? Leliana didn't seem to think there was, in fact she squealed."
Miraak had a hard time imagining that but Alistair confirmed it was true.
"We're working on her," Alistair said proudly. "We'll have her showing emotions and mercy one day, just you wait."
Miraak would believe it when he saw it, but Leliana wasn't his problem. No, his problem was a little niece or nephew out there who was Dragonborn, didn't know it… and might be in danger.
"I should like to see that, but she's not why I called you here. No, we… this is going be difficult. I apologise in advance for any offence caused but… we used magic to confirm Alistair's relationship to you, Fiona. Alistair's aware of the magic, it needed him as a focus, and it confirmed what we suspected. But it also threw up another result, one that surprised us. There is another Dragonborn out there, out in Orlais. And… they're related to you. Specifically… Alistair, you have a child out there."
"What?" Fiona gasped. "But the Taint, that should make it impossible!" Then she glanced down at herself ruefully. "Ah, what has ever been normal about this family. But… a child! Alistair's a father?"
"Yes," Miraak said, watching Alistair for his reaction, and he'd expected many things. Shock. Surprise. Denial. Tears.
He'd not expected no reaction. He'd not expected Alistair avoiding his eyes, staring grimly at the floor, shoulders hunched but otherwise not reacting at all.
"You knew," Miraak said softly. Which brought up a whole other set of issues, primarily why Alistair had never once bloody mentioned this. Miraak really had no good answer for that one.
"Yes," Alistair said, gritting his teeth. "I knew."
"But… why didn't you say?" Fiona gasped. "Is it a boy or a girl? What's their name? Is Bethany the mother? Who's looking after them?"
"Bethany's not the mother – it was before," Alistair said, still not looking up. "At the end of the Blight, about a couple of weeks before we killed the Archdemon."
"Nine years old," and that was Dorian, returned from outside, apparently feeling better now something had taken his mind off his beloved swallowing an entire raw herring. "That makes them nine years old. Concrete information, Miraak! We're getting somewhere! What else? What's their name? Come to that, what pronouns should we be using?"
"I don't know!" Alistair snapped back at him, and then he hunched in guiltily, head in his hands.
"I don't know," Alistair repeated bitterly. "It was part of the agreement. Morrigan wanted to raise the child alone, with no involvement from me. I was twenty years old, it was fine by me at the time. Morrigan went to ground after the Blight. We never did track her down. I wasn't really looking if I'm honest, but I wondered… and you found her?"
"We found her," Miraak confirmed. "Or at least, we have a lead. Maybe now we have two, now we know who we're looking for. Morrigan. One of your companions in the Blight. And you had an affair with her. One that resulted in an unexpected child."
Alistair said nothing, and Fiona put an arm round him to try and comfort him.
"Alistair, you were a young man and you were fighting a Blight. No one here is judging you," Fiona said softly. It didn't work.
"I'm judging me," Alistair snapped. "It wasn't an affair. It was an agreement. A deal. One Lyra begged me to go through with because otherwise one of us would have died facing the Archdemon. I told her I was fine with it being me but… she wouldn't have it."
"One of you would have died?" Miraak said, frowning. "I know it must have been dangerous, but why say it like that? As if the death of one of you was certain."
"Because killing an Archdemon was impossible, they kept regenerating," Fiona said quietly. "That was back in the First Blight, and we had a century of that until someone finally realised that they were using the Blight to prolong their lives, leaping into another Blighted creature and being reborn. Darkspawn are mindless, they don't have souls, it's easy to take one over… but if the nearest Blighted creature has a soul of its own, when the Archdemon transfers, the soul fights back. It can't win but it can destroy the Archdemon soul. They mutually annihilate each other. And that's how you stop a Blight. The Grey Wardens Blight themselves so one of them can take the dragon's soul and destroy it, at the cost of their own life."
Miraak listened, heard, and began to realise why darkspawn might be drawn to the dragon blood. Natural enemies but also linked. And Archdemon dragons… Liriel said the high dragons here weren't Dov, just beasts with a certain level of intelligence but these Archdemons were different. These Archdemons sounded like Dov. A Dovah's soul could survive physical death and if it was Blighted, it might use that connection to reincarnate. And with no Dragonborn to absorb that soul…
"I could have killed the Archdemon and lived," Miraak realised. "I take dragons' souls when they die. And Alistair… gods, Alistair, you might not have died either."
Alistair said nothing and then he seemed to collapse, falling into his mother's arms and crying in her lap, shaking in silent tears. Fiona gasped then leaned in, holding him tight and whispering to him, calling him her baby, telling him it was all right, she was there, she'd look after him.
Getting off his chair, Miraak knelt by Alistair, rubbing his back, wishing he was better at this, but this was his brother, and Miraak never had liked seeing his loved ones in pain.
Miraak guessed it was working somehow because Alistair had reached out with his free hand to hold Miraak's, and seemed to be bearing up a little.
"It was all for nothing," Alistair whispered. "All for nothing – I lost my virginity to someone I didn't love or even like to save Lyra's life and mine, and you're telling me I could have said no, killed the Archdemon and not died."
"And then been a Dragonborn with no idea what you were, and likely a target for every passing demon with an eye for power," Miraak said, his own life rankling at him. "You would have known less than even I did when I started out. And look how I ended up. You weren't to know. It was not the fault of any of you. You did your best."
"And it was not for nothing," Fiona said, a fierceness in her voice that belied the tenderness with which she held Alistair. "There's a child, a Dragonborn child! Maybe you promised not to be involved, but I didn't. I wish to know my grandchild. And you said it yourself, Miraak. Just as a mage with no one to train them is a risk, how much more a Dragonborn. We need to find them, bring them here and train them in the Thu'um. Don't we, Inquisitor."
Miraak looked up, saw Fiona's determination, and realised he'd acquired an unexpected ally.
"My thoughts exactly," Miraak said, grinning. "But first, tell me more of this agreement. This ritual that was supposed to save you, how did it work?"
"I don't really know," Alistair admitted. "But Morrigan seemed to think if the nearest Blighted creature was a Grey Warden's unborn child, the unformed child soul wouldn't be destroyed. It'd merge with the dragon's, and the kid would be born with the old god dragon's soul. Apparently Morrigan wanted to save the Archdemon from the Blight, Lyra didn't want us to die, it worked out. I just… had to have sex with Morrigan. I mean, it wasn't unpleasant? But it was bloody weird and I don't really like talking or thinking about it, and then I met Bethany and have been happy with her ever since."
"What does she think of all this?" Dorian asked, and Alistair flinched guiltily.
"I never told her," Alistair whispered, mortified. "Ah fuck."
Awkward indeed, and Miraak did sympathise. He didn't envy Alistair having to explain this one, but he had some time to prepare. At the moment they had neither Bethany nor Dragonborn child anyway.
But Morrigan, former friend of Lyra Surana. That was something to work with. That was something Leliana could look for, and they had an approximate location. What this Morrigan would think of them, Miraak had no idea. But if you'd wanted to produce a Dragonborn, this ritual seemed tailor-made to do it. He had a feeling she'd know, at least on some level, what her child was.
Whether she'd want an adult male Dragonborn muscling in and insisting on mentoring her child was another matter entirely. But Miraak owed it to this child to try.
Alistair and Fiona on their way, and Miraak walked Dorian as far as the library, which still gave him shivers even now. It would be a very long time indeed before large collections of books didn't make Miraak nervous.
Dorian didn't even seem to mind, just settling down in his chair, the Eye of Miraak settling in his lap to watch over him as always because damned if Miraak just left him unprotected around the books. Mora was not finding his lokaal if Miraak could help it.
But for now Dorian was safe and happy and watched over, and Miraak went upstairs to find his spymaster… arguing with Cullen apparently.
"I'm sorry," Leliana gasped at a scowling Cullen. Cullen slammed a scroll on the table, snapped "So am I" and then took his leave, only flinching a little as he took in Miraak's eyes boring into him.
"Do I need to speak with him," Miraak said softly, because while advisors disagreeing was one thing, Leliana actually looked hurt.
"No, no," Leliana said softly, not meeting his eyes. "He was just dropping off the names of those we lost at Haven."
"That in no way needed to come to you," Miraak said, coming to stand with her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Why was he here? If it was to rub it in, that is not his job."
"No but… when word of trouble first came in, I withdrew my agents," Leliana said, shaking her head, clearly still grieved. "If I'd left them in the field, they could have slowed Corypheus's forces, bought us more time!"
Miraak recalled asking Dorian last night if he'd done the right thing and wondered if they were all going to start second-guessing themselves. Should he check on Josephine next?
"Could they have stopped him advancing at all?" Miraak asked. "Prevented the battle entirely?"
"No, of course not-" Leliana stopped and sighed, conceding that at least.
"Then do not dwell," Miraak told her. "We all did the best we could with what we had that night. I used Bend Will on that dragon and Liriel used Dragonrend, and neither worked, and I am starting to think I should have shouted the Blight out of it instead. That might have done more to help than any other act. We survived. Corypheus fled the field. He did not get what he was after and we struck him a blow. That is what matters. Don't let the past weigh you down, fahdoni. Think of the future."
Leliana stared at the table, then smiled to herself.
"It was not just on me," Leliana said quietly. "And I still have most of my agents. We can make use of them yet. If you can make mistakes… maybe the rest of us do not need to be perfect either."
"Maybe not," Miraak said, uncomfortably reminded of Thom telling him last night he was more of an inspiration as a fallen sinner trying to atone than he'd ever be as an uncorrupted hero. Dear Akatosh, no, Miraak wasn't a heroic inspiration!
Still, if it made Leliana smile again, it was worth it.
"I will think on it, Inquisitor," Leliana told him, smiling up at him. "Now, did you need something?"
As a matter of fact, yes. Two things in fact.
"Morrigan was a companion of yours during the Blight. Do you know what happened to her?"
"I know… some of it, anyway," Leliana said, staring out of the window. "She disappeared very thoroughly after the victory celebrations, but Lyra traced her later. She was last seen disappearing through a portal to who knows where and we lost all trace of her for years… but she did resurface a couple of years ago."
"In Orlais. Northwest of here," Miraak said, looking rather pleased with himself for knowing this.
"Yes, how did you…" Leliana was frowning at him and Miraak just smiled.
"I have sources. I know her approximate location but not the details. You found her? Where is she? What's she doing?"
"You and I are going to have to talk about your sources one day," Leliana said, eyebrows knotting together in a frown. "But yes, I know what she's doing. Would you believe she's at the Imperial Court in Halamshiral? She's arcane advisor to the Empress herself. Managed to completely usurp Vivienne's role, although Vivienne is still officially Court Enchanter. I've been watching her for some time. She knows some dark magic, Inquisitor. You should be careful."
"I also have dangerous magic at my own disposal," Miraak said, smile just widening. "Thank you, Leliana. There was talk of us going to the Orlesian Court, wasn't there? Empress Celene is holding some manner of peace talks that Josephine wanted us to attend."
"The Grand Masquerade Ball, yes," Leliana said thoughtfully. "It will not be for some time yet. And Josephine is very much working on the invitation. But if we can get in… Celene was assassinated in that Dark Future. The ball would be a perfect opportunity to strike. I don't know if Morrigan is involved. She has no Tevinter connections I know of. But she was never known for her loyalty. She was always a loner. She might turn against Celene if someone else made her a better offer."
"What if we made her an offer?" Miraak asked. It sounded like Leliana's opinion of Morrigan wasn't a lot better than Alistair's. All the same, it sounded like Lyra had trusted her, and she'd helped fight the Archdemon – given Lyra and Alistair a chance to survive in fact. She wasn't all bad… and even doing it because she felt sorry for the Archdemon and wanted to save it from the Blight was commendable in a way. It was in fact the sort of thing Miraak might have done. If he'd had a womb of course.
"You want to recruit her for the Inquisition? Are you serious?" Leliana gasped, staring at him.
"Yes," Miraak said, folding his arms and standing firm. "She's a mage of powerful and unconventional abilities. We can use that. Also I am reliably informed she has something of interest. I want that something here at Skyhold. For that to happen, she needs to be with us."
Leliana shook her head, rubbing her forehead.
"We would need to prove she is not actively working with the Venatori," Leliana sighed. "I have suspicions but no real evidence. And she would have to agree. Morrigan works alone, Inquisitor. She does not form alliances. She even had Lyra kill her own mother. Who turned out to be able to turn into a dragon, can you believe?"
No, Miraak could not believe, but now he wanted very badly indeed to meet Morrigan.
"If she knows how to do that and can teach me, she's hired," Miraak said instantly, entire face lighting up. And to his surprise, Leliana stared and then burst out laughing.
"Of course you want to learn that," Leliana laughed. "In truth, I am surprised you can't. Ah, never mind. All right, Inquisitor. I'll have my agents monitor her and when we get to the ball, as long as she's not working with the Venatori, we'll see if she can be made an ally of. But be warned, Inquisitor. She's not trustworthy."
That didn't matter. It was her child Miraak was after. If he could win her trust and befriend her, all well and good. But if not… if he could get to the child anyway… well, maybe he could work with that. And dragon shapeshifting? He'd not even known that was possible! He definitely had to learn that if he could.
"Was there anything else, Inquisitor?"
Yes. Yes, there was, wasn't there. Miraak tore his mind from fantasies of soaring through the skies like a mighty Dovah and returned his thoughts to the present, and the other matter he'd wished to know about.
"What have you got on the Callier massacre?"
"The Callier massacre?" Leliana gasped, clearly having heard of it. "That was a dark business. An entire family, murdered! Even the children! Young children at that, none could have mistaken them for adults. What is our interest in the matter?"
Miraak led her aside to avoid prying eyes.
"Say we had intelligence on one of the perpetrators. Thom Rainier."
Leliana's eyebrows rose, surprise on her face, but she also looked pleased.
"The Orlesians would reward us handsomely for information on his whereabouts," Leliana said thoughtfully. "Even more if we handed him over. Where is he? And… how do you know about him when I did not?"
"I'd rather not say," Miraak said, hating himself for ordering this but also knowing he'd feel worse about the alternative. "What if we're not turning him in?"
"What… why would you not?" Leliana gasped. "The man ordered children killed! Children, Miraak!"
"I know," Miraak said softly. "But he's an Inquisition member. Joined up under a false name, made himself indispensable and has been an asset ever since. Not only that, he's been living under that identity for years. He's trying to atone, be a better person. He's not the same man as he was. I… would like to give him another chance if I can. So what can we do about the charges."
"This is murder of a noble, Miraak, there are children involved!" Leliana said sharply. "And Lord Callier was a close supporter of the current Empress, she won't let it slide! And we might need Celene's favour. This is no petty crime we can bribe officials to ignore or that could be settled with coin."
Miraak had been afraid of that.
"Our best course of action is for no one to know of this," Leliana sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I will compile a report for you, to be delivered confidentially. And I do have people close to the Orlesian courts and guards. I will monitor for any leads on Rainier that come up and inform you. Inquisitor, if they turn up evidence pointing to us…"
"I know," Miraak said softly. "I will take responsibility. In the meantime, gaining influence at court might help, yes? Perhaps if Celene owes us. We're going to that ball anyway, we might be able to increase our leverage as well as prevent her assassination."
"Maybe," Leliana said, although she clearly didn't entirely approve of this. "I hope you know what you're doing, Herald."
Frankly, no. By all rights he should be having Thom arrested. But…
Vahlok had sacrificed his beloved nieces and nephew to the dragons and called it justice. Then they'd come for Greta and her kids, and that had kickstarted the Dragon War in earnest as the Jarl of Windhelm killed the cult's envoys and declared for the Tongues. Miraak had seen from Apocrypha, approved and learnt then that obeying the law wasn't always the right thing to do.
Disobeying this one wasn't necessarily the right thing, but it wasn't wrong either. Thom might not deserve mercy, but nor had Miraak and he'd got it anyway, on condition he do something spectacular to atone.
Maybe Thom could do something to atone too. More than he'd manage if they hung him anyway.
Cullen was in his tower office, looking annoyed about something. Gods only knew what, but there was much to organise. Skyhold was looking a lot better than it had when they'd first moved in but not quite good enough. Not quite. Not yet.
Wasn't what he wanted to discuss anyway.
"Cullen," Miraak announced. "You do not need to always get along with your colleagues, but the way you spoke to Leliana earlier was unacceptable. Don't do it again."
Cullen had the grace to look guilty.
"I'll apologise to her, Inquisitor. I'm sorry. It's just… she's not the one who has to tell the kin who did make it here that we lost their relatives. And her decisions may have cost lives."
"All our decisions can cost lives, and sometimes there isn't a way that doesn't," Miraak snapped, trying not to remember dragons descending on Solstheim. "I could have saved lives, maybe even Haven, if I'd used a different Shout on the dragon. Didn't occur to me until later. Something Alistair said about how Archdemons can only be killed by Wardens."
"You weren't to know that, Inquisitor-" and then Cullen took his point. "All right. Point taken. I'll try to be more understanding. It's just been a rough day and… Your Worship, I never mentioned this before because you weren't officially in charge, but now you are, you should know."
Ominous. Also intriguing.
"What is it? Nothing that will compromise your position, I trust?"
"Not yet," Cullen said, not meeting his eyes. "You know Templars get their power from taking lyrium. It lets them stop magic, but it also comes at a price. It's addictive, and it also causes dementia in later life."
Miraak had not known that.
"Are you telling me you and our entire force of Templars are drug addicts?" Miraak hissed. "That makes us fatally dependent on our lyrium supply, Cullen! I can cope with no longer having Templar abilities to call on, but not a force of addicts in withdrawal!"
Miraak had had to deal with the occasional moon sugar addict before now. They were always, always, trouble.
"Our lyrium supply is secure, and our Templars are coping on their daily rations. Only… I no longer take it."
"You… no longer take it. The substance you've been dependent on for years."
Miraak rubbed his forehead, wondering why the hell no one had told him this before. Well. He'd not been officially the leader, had he? And now he had to deal with his bloody commander being a damn addict.
"What are the withdrawal symptoms, exactly?" Miraak said wearily. "Irritability? Impatience? Short temper? And who else knows. You don't just decide to do this alone."
"Seeker Cassandra is aware," Cullen said, gritting his teeth and glaring at Miraak. "Mostly it is muscle pain. There are knock-on effects on my temper. Seeker Cassandra is watching me, Inquisitor. If she detects a problem, she will arrange to have me removed from duty. I suppose now she'll make a recommendation to you instead."
Miraak was half-tempted to order him back onto it right now, but for the time being he'd live with it. For now.
"I detect any problems with your performance, I will replace you myself," Miraak growled. "But… I suppose it is a brave thing to do. Why, I might add? Other than wishing to avoid lyrium dementia, of course."
"Because I will not be bound to that life any longer," Cullen said, staring at the desk. "Whatever the consequences, whatever the suffering, I accept it. My own crimes as part of the Order will never be punished legally. Perhaps this will do instead as penance."
That sounded familiar. Gods damn it, was there a man in this Inquisition not doing penance for something? Well. Iron Bull wasn't. Dorian didn't have anything to atone for either. But as it was, with him, Blackwall, Varric blaming himself for Corypheus's return, and now Cullen, they had quite the little gang forming. They should have a cards night. Drinks for the atoning war criminals.
Miraak recalled begging Dorian for punishment and not getting it – well, not getting the humiliation he'd been hoping for anyway. What did Cullen have. And what would a dominant with principles do?
"Don't see it as a punishment," Miraak said softly. "See it as… moving on. The Chantry's crimes, the Circle's crimes – they are not the sins of one person. They are on the institutions. Restitution and justice are the Inquisition's job – my job. It is not on you alone. If you must do this… don't just rely on Cassandra. When you apologise to Leliana, tell her about this. She might already know, but it will be different hearing it from you. You are not punishing yourself, you are healing yourself. And people being healed take advice from healers. They also take pain medication on the bad days, don't they."
"I… yes, Inquisitor," Cullen admitted. "Inquisitor, you have to know I did and said some horrific things as a Templar. I once said mages weren't people! And told Lyra Surana to have an entire Circle annulled including children because some might still be abominations. She said no. Thankfully."
"Oh, like I haven't done worse," Miraak sighed. "When the Dragon Cult went to war, we did not show mercy to our foes either. You know what I was, what I deserved as my fate. You gave me another chance. Show the same to yourself. You are making amends and doing better, no? What was it Dorian said? That's all any of us can do? You are doing your best, Cullen."
"Thank you, Inquisitor," Cullen said quietly, hands on the desk, staring down at it, at the odd equipment with a Fereldan version of Andraste on the box lid which Miraak realised might be equipment for taking lyrium. "You are more understanding than I deserve. You know I argued for keeping you on mostly practical grounds, don't you? Leliana's the one who actually likes you."
"I know," Miraak said, lips twitching at this. "I also recall you hearing I'd spent thousands of years in a hell dimension in the Fade and offering sympathy. You did not have to. But it was well-meant. Lead my armies with honour, Commander. That's all I ask. For the rest… you are not alone. I have Dorian, and Dorian makes me show vulnerability. I don't know what you have… but you should lean on your colleagues if no one else."
Cullen said nothing, thinking this over. Then…
"Maybe I will tell Leliana, it'll provide an excuse for my temper if nothing else," Cullen sighed. "Perhaps… perhaps Rylen and my other direct reports could stand to know. Ambassador Montilyet too, maybe. I will think about it, Your Worship."
Miraak hoped he would. That he seemed serious about giving up lyrium boded well, but not if the withdrawal killed him. Miraak would have to see. Still, he'd managed all this time all on his own. What more could he do if he just opened up for once.
"I ought to thank you, you know," Cullen added, and Miraak tensed up immediately. He did not like Cullen's tone at all. "For being, well… you."
"Thank you, Cullen. Mind explaining what that actually means?" Miraak said, wary.
"Just that you've done terrible things as well, but you're still here trying and surviving and managing to make all this look easy. I wasn't tormented by demons for anything close to what you had to put up with. If you can do it… I should be able to as well."
"You don't know the half of it," Miraak said quietly, remembering endless green skies, black tentacles, going out of his mind with boredom and always the fear Mora might decide today was the day he'd pay his plaything a visit… or tire of him entirely and end him. "Also you are not Dragonborn. Had I not been… I might have ended up a tentacled horror myself."
That his eyes were still blue and not the Daedric black that indicated the taint of Apocrypha had taken hold was a miracle Miraak still gave thanks for every day.
"All the same, you're very together for a man who had all that happen to him," Cullen said, watching him with surprise. "I met you days after your escape, remember. Anyone else would have been a screaming wreck but not you."
"The adrenaline had yet to wear off," Miraak told him with a smile. "Note it took me weeks to feel safe enough to remove the mask in public, and it took Dorian's help to do it. I still don't always feel real but the Inquisition is helping."
He deliberately did not mention sitting in a bath on his own in the cabin and huddling up, shaking all over, afraid he'd open his eyes and be sitting in Apocrypha's slime or that tentacles would rise up to claim him. Or sitting by the lake, staring at the sky, blue visible from the mask slits and tears rolling down his cheeks as he realised he was free. Completely lost and unmoored, his people and religion gone… but free. There'd been many days he'd feared he was going mad, and hours spent staring into space in private and private crying fits he'd hated himself for, wrapping in blankets and weeping for his mother, Saering, his kin, the cult, his dragons, all of it. He'd even mourned Zaan, and he'd hated Zaan.
It had taken a while to truly get used to it all and pull himself together, and it had been thanks to the travelling, the missions, getting to spend time with people like Varric and Blackwall and Cassandra and Vivienne… and later Dorian, of course.
What had Cullen had?
"I don't know what you went through and you don't have to tell me, but… it is possible to recover, Cullen. Just… talk to people. Let them help you."
"I will try, Inquisitor. And… thank you."
Miraak wished he wouldn't. Bad enough Blackwall thought he was an inspiration. He didn't need Cullen thinking it as well.
Blackwall was next on the list and despite reports he'd slept in, unusual for him, Miraak found him up and about, carving some wooden… horse… thing?
"What are you carving?" Miraak asked, frowning at it. It looked familiar but he couldn't place it.
"This? Just something to keep the hands busy. Unless you wanted to know what it is. It's a griffin. The Wardens used to have them as winged mounts. Then they went extinct. I don't know why."
It looked like a winged lion with an eagle's head, not the sort of thing you'd expect to be real. Then again, perhaps no one expected dragons to be real either. When you thought about it, they didn't really make sense. Miraak had memories of the Reach Ambassador once drunkenly wanting to know how dragons worked. Seriously, how did they work? How did a thing that size and weight stay in the air? How did the Thu'um work? Why didn't they breed? Why why why…
Ambassador Caradach ap Eola could out-why his niece Saara and that was an achievement. But the man was long-dead and thankfully Dorian hadn't yet started asking questions about how dragons worked.
So was Saara and Miraak preferred not to think about that for too long. Better to remember the tiny child who'd pestered him with questions and loved watching the dragons from the temple with him. Miraak truly missed having children around. The Inquisition's children were usually hauled away by parents or siblings or Enchanters and told not to bother the Inquisitor before he had a chance to really talk to them.
"You know you don't have to pretend around me any more," Miraak told him. "You don't need to pretend to give a shit about Wardens if you don't really."
Blackwall lowered his tools, not looking up.
"I never said I didn't care," Blackwall said, voice fierce but low. "I might not be him, but he was a man willing to give his life to do the right thing. How can I not respect that. How can I not respect his legacy. Me, I'm scum, I know that. But he was a good man."
"He likely was," Miraak said, thinking over Leliana's file on the real Blackwall. "I wish I'd had a chance to meet him. But don't count yourself out. You are not without honour."
"A dead man's borrowed honour and we both know it," Blackwall said, returning to his work. "But you let me stay and serve anyway. I will always be grateful for that. Even if the worst happens and you're forced to give me up. I won't forget you gave me a chance, Inquisitor."
"Don't, I had enough of that from Cullen this morning," Miraak sighed. "I am an appalling human being who is acting heroically to impress Dorian. I am no inspiration."
"Now who's selling themselves short," Blackwall chuckled, glancing up at him, sly grin on his face. "All right, Your Worship. You're a terrifying bastard all set to bring the Wrath of the Maker to his foes, I know that. But you know you're more than that to the people out there. They believe in you, Herald. They believe you're the hero that's going to save the world, fight for order and justice."
"Of course they do," Miraak purred, remembering fighting Corypheus, taunting him… and the look on his face as he realised he'd just lost his prized orb. "Because I will do that and enjoy myself in the process. But there is nothing holy about me."
"You survived a hell realm for longer than anyone's been alive and you're here to tell the tale," Blackwall said solemnly, finally turning to meet Miraak's gaze. "Never mind the truth, Miraak. They need to believe you're the hero the stories claim you are. They need to believe the Maker sent you, that it was him who snatched you away from certain martyrdom and him who brought you back to help at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Even the ones who know a demon did it think the Maker kept you safe all that time and brought you back. I think even Seeker Cassandra thinks it. She won't say it. But I think she thinks it."
Oh gods, that was all he needed, this mania of inspiration infecting Cassandra too. How ironic, when he'd got here he'd seen the Inquisition and plotted how best it might serve as the foundation of a new Cult of Miraak… and now it had actually happened, without him actually intentionally crafting it or Bend Willing anyone. And Miraak didn't know how to react at all, because it just wasn't who he was any more, and more to the point, the adulation was not based on the truth about him and could all come crashing down at any moment, and the whole idea of him as some Andrastian saviour now made him want to hug Dorian very tightly.
Once you started interacting with people as real people, realising most of them weren't seeing you as one was a disconcerting thought.
"I'm not…. Oh gods. Blackwall, this is exhausting," Miraak said, shaking his head and not wanting to think about this any more. "Let them believe what they need to. I have an Inquisition to run. Now. Let us talk of other things. Did you spend time with Serana last night?"
"And if I did?"
Blackwall's attempt to outstare Miraak faltered before it even got started.
"She doesn't need me to defend her honour, but she is my guest. Is there something I should know?"
"No. Not as such," Blackwall admitted. "We did sit up late, talking. She's a fascinating woman. She was telling me about her family. Nobles from a far off castle I'd never have heard of. Funny how that goes with you and your friends. All from places we've never heard of."
"Serana's distant kin to my people, she hails from the same land," Miraak told him. "And from what I've gleaned, her family had particular reason to be reclusive."
"Aye, she told me about her maleficar father," Blackwall said, shaking his head. What Serana had told him exactly, Miraak didn't like to imagine. "Trying to achieve immortality, making pacts with demons, some prophecy that he'd get ultimate power if he found a way to put out the sun. Apparently Serana and her mother ran away with these older scrolls that contained the rest of the prophecy to stop him getting his hands on them, and then Serana found Liriel who offered to help and ended up killing her father for her and rescuing her mother who'd hidden out in the Fade, can you believe."
Miraak could definitely believe, and resolved to get the unedited version off Serana himself later.
"Anyway, with a past like that, Lady Serana deserves everything life can offer her," Blackwall continued. "She deserves better than me, I know that. But she's charming company, and beautiful to boot. Tell me, Miraak, are all your people stunningly attractive? I'm not into men, but you're an imposing sight and I can see why Dorian took one look and lost his head completely. I've heard half the women of Skyhold mourning that they never had a chance with you. And Lady Serana is… something else again."
Faint blush of pink on Blackwall's cheeks, and a happy little smile on his face, and Miraak hoped he didn't look like that when thinking of Dorian. Did Dorian look like that when he was thinking of him? Miraak wasn't sure, but part of him hoped it was so, at least sometimes.
"Well, be careful," Miraak warned him. "I doubt she told you everything about herself. She's honourable, yes, but also dangerous. Watch yourself."
"I feel I should be put off by that, but in all honesty, Inquisitor, I'm still not afraid," Blackwall said, still that besotted look on his face. "I'm not worthy of her, and she's not indicated she's interested anyway. But… I don't fear her. Even if she's dangerous… ah, I probably deserve it."
Thom did not deserve being Serana's thrall, or even her willing blood source for that matter. Still, if he wouldn't be put off…
"Be careful then," Miraak told him. "I know your crimes merit atonement for… but that shouldn't be being harmed by your own lover."
Blackwall's eyes went to Miraak's collar then, the Inquisition symbol on display even if the band it was attached to nestled under the collar of his formal tunic. Mercifully he said nothing.
"Non-consensual harm," Miraak said pointedly. "And the consensual part's not always safe. Do what you must, but if you need help… come to me. Serana is strong but so am I."
"I don't doubt it," Blackwall said, eyes moving away from the collar and meeting Miraak's. "Very well, Inquisitor. I don't think it'll ever be necessary. I know my worth and I know Serana's. But if I ever need you, I'll be sure to find you."
Miraak hoped so too. He didn't think Serana would intentionally hurt Blackwall… but when a vampire got involved with a mortal human, the potential for harm was always there.
Josephine was last on the list, and it turned out the reason she wanted to see him was to do with the stone for his kin memorial.
"What do you mean it's not coming. You said demand for stone had been through the floor due to the war! Do they not know who we are?"
"It's not that simple, Inquisitor," Josephine sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Sahrnia quarry would have been an ideal supplier – the war led to customers cancelling their orders and they're not far away, they'd be glad for the business. But… no one can get hold of them."
"No one can…" All right, perhaps there was a legitimate problem. "Why not, what happened."
"Unusually cold weather has frozen the river and snows have blocked the roads. The entire Emprise is cut off. That might be considered merely unfortunate, messere but… the bridges have also been destroyed, deliberately it appears. And… a maidservant of a family friend of mine recently returned from the Emprise speaking of strange red crystals in the fields and these strange soldiers in the area. Your Worship, I fear Red Templar involvement."
"I don't get my kin memorial because of fucking Corypheus's minions? Unbelievable," Miraak snapped. "Get us in there, Ambassador. I want to find out what's going on."
"Of course, Inquisitor," Josephine said, consulting her notes. "I mentioned the river had frozen over. That has stopped river traffic but it might be our way in. We will need sturdy mounts and our bravest soldiers, used to the cold. It will take considerable resources, but we do have those resources."
Just about, it turned out. And morale improved immensely once Miraak decided he was going in person. Except for Dorian's, for whom the choice between being away from Miraak or having to trek through the mountains was not remotely an easy one.
So Miraak made it for him and told him he was taking Vivienne instead. Vivienne's luxury tent would be very much an asset in the mountains. So would Iron Bull's knack for providing entertainment. And of all the rogues, Varric was the one Miraak got on with the best.
And so Inquisition forces trekked up the Elfsblood River's frozen valley, making slow but steady progress, Miraak at the front inspecting the ice along with a few Avvar recruits, recalling his father teaching him and Halbard how to detect weaknesses in the ice.
He'd not thought it would come in useful here, but there it was. Maybe Harknir might actually be proud of him.
We're doing this for your memorial, old man. I hope you're happy.
Of course, on arrival at Sahrnia, it soon became apparent there was far more at stake than one stone delivery. It turned out the quarry owner, facing ruin, had sold her quarry to the Red Templars.
"You sold it to them?" Miraak roared. "What were you thinking, woman?"
"Please, messere, all our customers cancelled their stone orders because of the war! No one wants a new bathroom or fountain for their garden while the war rages! We were desperate, the Templars were helping! They were kind at first! They brought supplies! They offered coin. People went to work, they had jobs, there was hope! It was only later they changed. Workers stopped coming home. They stopped being kind. Then they started… taking people. And the red crystals appeared. Please, messere, I know it was wrong, but we have suffered more than any for my mistake."
Mistress Poulin appeared to be doing a damn sight better than the other villagers, but what good would pointing out the price had been paid by others do.
"I will take back that quarry but it will be Inquisition property after this," Miraak growled. "I might consider putting you in charge of it. Inquisition, let's move."
"Practical decision, darling, I approve," Vivienne purred, following him out of the village. "These poor people have suffered enough under her poor leadership."
"Yeah," Bull added. "You shouldn't have an important economic resource that an entire community relies on under the ownership of one person. Because then you get shit decisions like this and suddenly outsiders are taking your resources and telling you what to do. You don't get that under the Qun."
Thank Bormahu Solas and Cassandra weren't in the party, because that would definitely have started an argument, but while Vivienne glared, she said nothing, and Varric was ever the diplomatic type.
And then they found the lyrium. Lots of it, ugly red stone living in destroyed buildings and along the road, and… melting the snow. Odd.
"It's warm," Miraak realised. "Red lyrium gives off heat. Interesting."
"Like it's alive," Varric said, shivering. "That's reassuring. Can we please get out of here?"
"And it's singing," Miraak said, listening closer.
"That really isn't! Tentacles, please, everyone who's heard it singing has gone mad and killed a load of people, can you please leave it alone?"
"I know the song," Miraak murmured, hand inches from the lyrium. "Blight song – this has the Blight?"
"Andraste's ass, I cannot handle this – who wants to tell Sparkler the Inquisitor went crazy from red lyrium. Because that is not a job I'm volunteering for."
"All right, boss, maybe you should step away from the tainted rock now," Bull said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Wait, I want to try something," Miraak insisted. "Need to see if my Thu'um can cleanse this."
Vivienne placed a hand on Bull's arm and led him back.
"Let him work, darling. Nothing else has helped."
That Vivienne still had faith in him despite certain terse words on mage freedom of late was reassuring. Maybe this would win her over.
"SLEN SKAH VO!"
The shout hit the stone and… did nothing. Fuck.
"What? That worked on Alistair!" Miraak cried. "Gods take this Blighted fucking country and it's fucking tainted singing stone that's ruining my Thu'um and… wait. I know what I did wrong. Let me sit over here and get my breath back."
Varric could take no more of this and could be seen going over to what had once been someone's herb garden and uprooting elfroot out of sheer frustration. Miraak ignored him and crouched by a rock, thinking it over and before long he was ready to try again.
"GOL SKAH VO!"
Thu'um hit lyrium. The red lyrium start glowing gold, orange fire blazing, too bright to look at, and then gold fire shot into the air, burned out… and left untainted blue lyrium behind it.
"Holy shit," was Bull's response. Even Vivienne was impressed. And Varric… Varric had seen and was cackling, rubbing his hands in glee.
"Holy shit, we have made back all the expedition costs from this alone!" Varric laughed. "Tentacles, I'm sorry I ever doubted you."
Miraak patted Varric on the back, then put an arm round Bull as well, and would have hugged Vivienne too had he not seen her face and thought better of it. It was true though, this would sort out the Inquisition's lyrium needs for some time to come. They'd still need Dwarven assistance to transport and handle it of course, and cancelling the lyrium contracts with Orzammar entirely was likely unwise. But perhaps the price-gouging would stop now.
Back to the camp to start making arrangements, a bird sent to Josephine announcing they had a lyrium source now, make arrangements to collect it, and then on to the actual task of liberating the Emprise.
That proved harder. Fighting the Templars was hard enough, but Miraak's Thu'um shattered their lines and knocked them down and left them easy prey for Bull. First one Templar base fell… then another, with even one of their Behemoths not being enough to withstand Miraak and Vivienne's frost magic combined… or Bull's axe shattering it after.
The hardest part was the sheer amount of red lyrium to cleanse, and Miraak ended up just dealing with the stone nearest the new Inquisition camps, and leaving the rest. Dagna the Arcanist apparently could make use of even the red lyrium in her enchantments, so perhaps it didn't all need cleaning right now. He could send Alistair along to do some more later.
And then they set up camp in the middle of the Emprise, near the ominously named Tower of Bone, and made for the quarry.
More red lyrium here, more Templars – they'd expected the bulk to be stationed here. But not the cages full of terrified villagers who revealed the Templars had been using their comrades to grow the lyrium.
Even Miraak was appalled by that.
"The way is clear, get yourselves to our camp, they'll take care of you," Miraak told them, wondering just when this sort of thing had started bothering him this much. He'd once sacrificed people to the Dov without a thought. Apparently the Templars doing the same by sacrificing villagers to the lyrium bothered him now.
That's different.
Yes it is, you weren't ordering it this time.
Fuck that, I rebelled.
Eventually. After a demon told you to.
That and guilt. Apparently indirectly causing the death of a hated rival in the process had bothered him, then and now.
It didn't matter. He was here and these people needed him. So on it was, clearing out the quarry, cleansing lyrium, killing Templars, freeing villagers… and finding out some interesting things. Documents from Samson himself – Cullen would find these of interest. And orders to a lieutenant to… give goods and supplies to Mistress Poulin in exchange for names. Names of villagers for the Templars to take.
"Collaboration with the enemy. You know, people normally hang for that, darling," Vivienne noted.
"You know, if you summarily executed her at the village, I'd be OK with that," Bull added.
"What is wrong with you two – at least give her a trial!" Varric cried. "You think the Templars were giving her much of a choice?"
"She did not tell me this before," Miraak growled. "I do dislike being lied to. But… I suppose a trial is the usual process. I am not giving her the quarry back."
"No one's saying you should, Tentacles," Varric said quietly. Indeed not, and Miraak already had some ideas. But before that, there was one item left on the agenda. Apparently operations were not being run from the quarry but from the old elven keep on the hill.
Miraak did like that keep. It was very pretty. It would look even prettier with the red lyrium gone and Inquisition banners on it.
Taking it was not easy. They had giants. Giants.
Until Miraak bent the will of the first one they met and then things got rather easier. With a giant on their side, they were able to power through the keep, and Miraak took great pleasure on unleashing his new giant friend on the demon who'd been organising all this in the first place, turning down the creature's pathetic attempt to bargain.
"You have nothing to bargain with, Daedra," Miraak mocked as demon met giant and did not come off well. Neither came off well, and after finishing the demon, the giant too perished from its injuries.
"Rest well, friend," Miraak said softly, closing its eyes. "Bormahu ofan drem."
"If friend is the right word for you mind-controlling it with the Voice," Vivienne said pointedly.
"Hey, cut him some slack, the giant didn't want to be here either," Varric pointed out.
"Would you have rather had to fight it?" Miraak asked, getting up. Obviously not but Vivienne still couldn't sit easy with something that was almost certainly contrary to Andraste's teachings even if it wasn't technically forbidden. At least he was restricting it to beasts. And he did have a point – Vivienne would not have wanted to fight giants without one on her side. Still. Still.
The keep claimed and it was back to Sahrnia to arrest Mistress Poulin.
"I'm sorry!" she cried. "What would you have had me do? They would have killed us all if I had not done it."
"You could have confessed earlier," Miraak snapped. "It would have gone better for you if you had. As it is, you are never getting that quarry back. I'm claiming it as an Inquisition asset. You produce stone for us now. I have a keep to build… and a memorial needing building. Take her away. Now who's in charge with her gone."
No one, it turned out, but several of them were quite bright and they all knew how the trade worked and… within an hour, Orlais had its first worker-run cooperative set up, Miraak taking inspiration and a few tips from Bull on how the Qun organised this sort of thing, and had he but known it, the cooperative would exist long after the Inquisition ended and survive future Orlesian social upheavals for a long time to come.
"Taking advice from a Qunari?" Vivienne said, nose wrinkling, and Miraak just shrugged.
"He had some to give, and I found it useful. Vivienne, I've no intention of converting, but I have no desire to run this quarry myself. They run it themselves, it saves me a job. Should it go badly, perhaps I'll intervene. If it goes well… we get stone for Skyhold's mage tower and my kin get their memorial."
"See, Tentacles, that's what I like about you. Most heroes turn up and are pleased because they saved the situation and stopped a great evil. You turned up because your stone delivery didn't happen, and once you've sorted everyone out, all you care about is your memorial stone."
"We had a mission objective and we achieved it," Miraak said firmly. "I… suppose all the gratitude, the new lyrium supply and the stunningly beautiful keep are acceptable side benefits."
They were indeed, and it wasn't long before Alistair and Dorian made the journey to see the newly refurbished Suledin Keep themselves.
"Wow, this place is great!" Alistair gasped. "You can see for miles, and it's so pretty! Can I invite Mum down here?"
"Yes, if you want," Miraak said, amused. "All this architecture is old elven buildings, she might find it of interest. I will need you here for a time anyway, zeymah. I need to teach you the Shout to cleanse lyrium. We need it to boost our stores."
"Ooh, yeah, good timing," Alistair said, recalling developments just before they'd left. "There's trouble in Orzammar and the lyrium supply dried up. We were going to wait for you to come back, but Josephine was free and happened to have received diplomatic contact from King Bhelen a bit before so she sent a delegation to find out what was going on and… well, it turns out they're having earthquakes out there. Big ones. That aren't subsiding. Mines are collapsing, the mining's had to stop, they're upping their prices on what they do have…"
"You want me to go out there and negotiate," Miraak finished. "Do you want me to use the Thu'um to stop the earthquakes? I have never tried, but I might be able to."
Alistair shook his head.
"No. At least not yet. We already sent a party out to the Storm Coast where the main fissure opened up. We also had to use a load of resources to build a platform lift down there to the Deep Roads, what with the dwarves not able to come topside. Er. I hope that's all right. I was going to volunteer myself but if dragon blood attracts darkspawn, I don't know if I should be down there any more. It's all right though, we sent Blackwall instead. And Cole and Solas. And… and my mum's going. Because she's immune to the Taint somehow, it's why she left the Wardens. I mean, she was one once, she's done this sort of thing before, she'll be fine, I'm sure. Only she was a lot younger then and… and I miss her."
Of course he did. Poor man must be worried sick about his mother going into danger and him no longer able to join her. Miraak put an arm round him and hugged him, letting Alistair snuggle into his shoulder. He was one of the few people Alistair, at six foot two, could actually do this with.
"She will be all right, Alistair. She is a mage. Getting older just means we've had time to get better at our craft. She has that impressive frost staff of hers back. I almost pity the darkspawn."
Alistair hugged him back for a good few minutes, patted his back and let him go, smiling despite the sadness in his eyes.
"She'll be OK, won't she. Blackwall will look after her, right?"
"Of course he-"
Blackwall was no more a Warden than Dorian was. Blackwall was Blight-vulnerable as anyone, not familiar with the Deep Roads – and they'd just given him the tank role on a mission to them.
"Of course he'll look after her," Miraak said, forcing the smile to stay in place, because of course Blackwall had agreed. He had a role to keep up. Not to mention this new found self-sacrificing sense of honour. He probably thought it a fitting punishment.
Miraak patted Alistair's shoulder and made for the writing desk, removing his gloves so he could grip a pen and summoning the Eye to cast a warming spell over the desk.
The Eye had been busily sitting in Dorian's lap already doing that very thing, and it wasn't long before his petulant amatus arrived, fur cloak wrapped round him and pouting at Miraak.
"Sorry lokaali, I needed it," Miraak sighed. "I have to send word to Caer Bronach immediately. Serana's going to kill me."
"Serana?" Dorian asked, surprised. "Whatever for?"
Alistair had followed him, looking honestly confused by this point.
"What's Serana got to do with this?" Alistair asked.
"She and Blackwall are… a couple. Sort of," Miraak sighed. "Heading in that direction anyway. And my Inquisition just sent him to the Deep Roads. So I need to tell her that and hope she can get to the Storm Coast from Caer Bronach before Blackwall arrives. If nothing else, a Blight-immune mage who can see in the dark can only be an asset down there."
"He's a Grey Warden, he'll be fine," Alistair said, frowning. "He's done this before? I mean, he might get killed, but it's not like he doesn't know what he's in for. It's a risk we all take from the moment we Join, and he knows that, doesn't he?"
Miraak said nothing, not looking up from the letter he was penning in Tamrielic, and then he felt Dorian's hand gripping the shoulder of the hand he wasn't writing with, rather harder than was strictly necessary.
"Do we need to talk, pet," and while Dorian's voice was quiet, there was a certain harshness to it. Someone was clearly figuring things out.
"Yes, after I've sent this," Miraak said wearily, accepting the inevitable. Attaching the letter to one of the birds, he got up and patted Alistair. "Zeymah. I need to speak with Dorian. I will see you later, yes?"
Alistair's eyes had hardened as he stared at Miraak, clearly becoming hostile.
"My mother is on that mission, Miraak," Alistair said softly. "If she gets hurt or doesn't come back because of Blackwall…"
"I know," Miraak said softly. "My brother. I am sorry. There are things I know but cannot tell you. Were it not for Liriel's warning, I'd go myself, you know that. I might even disregard that but my presence would make the danger worse."
"He's a senior Warden, you shouldn't need to even be there, he should have this one!" Alistair snapped.
"Unless he's not one," Dorian said quietly, leaning and lowering his voice. "And someone among us worked that out but has kept quiet."
Silence, during which Miraak evaluated his options and realised that lying to these two was not a price worth paying for keeping Blackwall's secret.
"In the tent," Miraak sighed. "This is confidential."
Neither man looked particularly impressed by this but they did follow. Whether that would be the case in half an hour… Miraak wasn't remotely sure.
The tent flaps closed, the Eye was hovering above the tent casting a muffling spell, and Miraak was sitting cross-legged on his bedroll with Dorian watching him and Alistair radiating suspicion, and blocking the tent exit in the process.
"All right, so what the bloody hell is going on," Alistair snapped, glaring at Miraak. "How the fuck is Warden Blackwall not really a Warden. And is this related to why he's been avoiding me since I found out about my mum?"
"Probably," Miraak said quietly. "Serana worked out he didn't have the Taint. She made him confess everything to me. Warden Blackwall's been dead for years, the real one. Ours is a wanted criminal who the real Blackwall wanted to recruit to the Wardens. Except Warden Blackwall was killed by darkspawn before he could take our man in to be Joined and our survivor decided to steal his identity and go travelling."
"He stole his… fucking hell. And you knew and kept it quiet?" Alistair snapped.
"I had my reasons," Miraak said, not meeting Alistair's eyes.
"They'd better be good ones," Alistair shot back at him, seething. "Because thanks to you not telling anyone, he's gone on a mission with my mother to the bloody Deep Roads!"
Miraak flinched, then glanced at Dorian, reaching for his hand. Dorian was shaking his head but did take it.
"Miraak told me someone in the Inquisition wasn't who they pretended to be but not who it was," Dorian said softly. "I wondered if it was Solas but Miraak's got no motive to cover for him. But he and Blackwall are actually friends."
"He's not the man he used to be," Miraak said quietly. "He's done nothing but act with honour since I met him – may have saved me when we first met. He's a good fighter and we need every blade we can get!"
"He's not the man he's claiming to be now, mate!" Alistair sighed. "Maker, Miraak. Of course he's acting honourable, Warden Blackwall wouldn't be anything else! You don't know what he'll do if he's…"
"We did expose him, and he confessed and accepted his fate, he didn't try to fight or run. Still hasn't," Miraak said, glancing up at Alistair to see how he was taking that. A little awkwardly. A little less hostile. Good. "And now he's agreed to go to the Deep Roads despite knowing the taint will kill him if he's infected."
"You are aware of what the taint does to a non-immune person if it gets in their blood, aren't you," Dorian said, hand still holding Miraak's and while he'd not said he approved exactly, Miraak got the sense he had his back.
"Of course I'm aware – for fuck's sake," Alistair cursed, finally dropping his gaze from Miraak. "I mean… fuck. I mean… whatever he did, and I'm assuming it was bad, I'm not sure even he deserves that death."
"No, and he's risking it, because of me," Miraak said softly. "And I never asked him to, but he's doing it anyway. He doesn't even get a pardon out of this! Here am I, the man who enslaved an island and plotted to take it over and rule once more, and what do I get? Pardoned and put in charge, given a chance to atone. What does he get? The fucking Deep Roads."
Miraak put his head in his hands, fingers in his hair, hating the injustice, because he should be joining Thom Rainier on the gallows if there was any justice. But there was not, and Miraak was not nearly selfless enough to put his own neck through the noose.
Thom Rainier was doing precisely that, and Miraak knew then Thom was a better man than him.
"Mate," and Alistair was moving to sit on his other side, arm going round his shoulder, forgiveness clearly coming. Again. Completely undeserved. "He might not die. He's got good gear, and he's very good at fighting."
"Anyone on that party, with the possible exception of Cole, could die, including your mother, and now you hope he lives?" Miraak asked, not really getting Alistair sometimes. How did you go from angry to forgiving that quickly?
"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even know she was my mum, and she insisted on going," Alistair sighed. "Also she was very firm I wasn't. Maker, if I'd known Blackwall wasn't really a Warden, I'd have ignored her and gone anyway."
"You would not, you don't have the taint masking your dragon blood any more," Miraak snapped, his own anger rising at that. "One Thu'um could get you and everyone else killed."
"Yeah I know," Alistair said bitterly. "Fucking hell. She'd better come back, you know. If she doesn't…"
"If she doesn't, and Blackwall could have prevented this, I will turn him in myself," Miraak promised, feeling morally all right with that part at least. "I gave him another chance on the understanding he'd fight for my Inquisition, not let my kin die."
"You are aware Fiona's not your kin, aren't you," said Dorian, letting go of Miraak's hand only to snuggle a bit closer, and Miraak reached for him as well.
"She's Alistair's and that's enough for me," Miraak said, lover and brother in his arms and clearly no longer angry with him, and contentment with himself finally returned. "Well, Alistair? Am I forgiven?"
Alistair muttered and wrapped his arms around Miraak's waist, head on his shoulder.
"Suppose," Alistair said, scowling. "Long as you keep your promise. You prick."
That would do. Miraak smiled and hugged his brother before glancing at Dorian, who'd been quiet throughout all this.
"And you?" Miraak asked. "You're all right with it."
Dorian just shook his head and kissed Miraak on the cheek.
"Amatus, if you honestly think I hadn't guessed, you don't know me very well," Dorian sighed. "I understand why you did it and I still love you. Whatever you decide, I'm here for you."
"Don't tell him that!" Alistair cried. "He'll be executing everyone who ends up on trial before him!"
Not true, he'd already pardoned one Movran the Under, father of the Avvar he'd killed, enjoying a few drinks and spending a fascinating evening learning more about the Avvar… just as Movran had been listening rather too intently to tales of the Dragon Cult. It had ended with Miraak assisting in arming and supplying the entire clan with a view to them moving north and setting up a traditional Avvar mead hall within Tevinter borders. It had made Dorian laugh anyway, and that was as important as any material benefit the Inquisition might receive.
"I will not do that," Miraak promised. "Although I do have a collaborator with the Red Templars on her way back to Skyhold for trial. Vivienne seems to think hanging is normal for that and Bull was outright in favour. Varric less so, but he did remind me she had very little choice in the matter. I am tempted to execute but something tells me I shouldn't."
"It's not collaboration if she was forced into it," Dorian reminded him. Alistair having shifted position so he was lying on his back with his head resting on Miraak's lap and showing no sign of moving, glanced up.
"So let the ones she screwed over make the decision. Send her back to help them out, work for them."
The former owner sent back as an employee of the collective now owning and running her quarry. An excellent idea.
"I might do that," Miraak said thoughtfully. "Thank you, zeymahi."
Dorian however had gone very quiet, seeming bothered about something, and Miraak didn't think it was Mistress Poulin.
"What is it, lokaal?" Miraak asked. "Something wrong?"
"Nothing," Dorian said softly. "Doesn't matter."
"Dorian," Miraak growled, knowing that for the falsehood it clearly was. "What did we discuss about telling me about your problems?"
"It's not – I don't have any problems, Miraak, and I cannot be seen to be interfering in the judicial process!" Dorian protested.
That could mean anything but thankfully Alistair stepped in.
"Oh, is this about Alexius? They sent him to Skyhold. Anora doesn't want to deal with him after all. Tevinter's stripped him of his title and exiled him so don't worry about that. He's in the cells right now! I dropped in before we left to gloat and tell him what I thought of him trying to conscript my mother. I… suppose Dorian would quite like mercy for him."
Dorian had said that very thing over dinner once back at Haven, but that had been before anyone was asking Miraak to be the one judging him.
"Don't…" Dorian whispered, sounding something close to broken. "Miraak, they'll all think I talked you out of execution if you spare him."
Miraak patted Alistair then put both arms round Dorian and kissed his forehead.
"Dorian, you do not need to say anything. I know what would upset you. I know he cared for you, and you for him, and that he treated you better than your own family ever did. I know he deserves punishment but I will not kill someone who treated you kindly once."
"Miraak, you don't have to-" Dorian began and then Miraak silenced him with a kiss.
"Hush," Miraak finally said as he broke off. "I will decide his punishment but it will not be death. He's a capable mage. He might be useful. I will have to think."
Dorian nestled in to Miraak's chest, smile on his face.
"Thank you," Dorian said quietly. "I know he should be punished. I just don't want to unduly influence…"
"Dorian," Miraak sighed, recalling all the time they'd had this argument. "We've established you're a good influence and should keep doing it."
"He's right," Alistair added. "I know what it'd be without you. Heads on pikes time!"
Miraak said nothing, lips quirking into a smile, and Dorian just tutted.
"Civilisation, Miraak. You're living in it now. Rule of law, not desecrating corpses, all that."
"This from a necromancer? Dorian, sometimes it is necessary to send a message…"
"The rest of us just write letters, amatus."
"Letters? You think the fear of the Dov will be struck into someone's heart by a courier?"
"Some of those letters are vicious, Miraak!"
"Words spoken by one who is not a Dovah are not something I will ever live in fear of."
"Unless Dorian says them, eh mate?"
"Hah! He knows you well."
"… the pair of you stop it or I'm sending you back to Skyhold."
Needless to say, neither of those things happened. The First Dragonborn turned Herald of Andraste might be a ruthless warlord at heart, but where his family were concerned, he'd put up with much. He'd already lost one family. He wasn't losing the second.
A/N: Ambassador Caradach ap Eola is definitely a long distant ancestor of Madanach's.
Next up, I've got to think about how to write The Descent when I've not played it in ages, and with Serana and Blackwall developing a budding romance and with Fiona along. It'll be interesting, that's for sure.