Rajmael of Clan Lavellan

by Powerslammer

Rajmael is an elf possessed of great pride and an incredible power. Born with a powerful name and a greater destiny, he has lived his whole life by the the Vir Tanadhal. And now he must use his ancient knowledge to stand against forces that threaten his world and everything he loves. Watch as he stands as a Dalish Elf, a Herald and as The Inquisitor. Please, please review.

43. Enter the Exalted Council

Enter the Exalted Council

Never before in this history of Thedas had there been an age as turbulent, uncertain and chaotic as this one. From the first day, the very moment, in which this era began, it was steeped in brutal conflict. It earned its names when a High Dragon, once thought to be long extinct, began to rampage across the Frostback Mountains, destroying Orlesian territories. Divine Faustine II gave the current century this name knowing that it would be an age of hardship and upheaval. No one could have predicted how right she would be. For in almost all the years that have passed in the Dragon Age, there has never been true peace

9:02 Dragon: With the help of his friend, Loghain Mac Tir, Maric Therin, the rightful King of Ferelden, drives out the Orlesian forces back through the Frostback Mountains at the Battle of River Dane. Maric kills the Orlesian puppet king, Meghren, in a duel at Fort Drakon. A year later, Maric is officially crowned King of Ferelden and takes his rightful place on his ancestor's throne.

9:21 Dragon: The ruthless and tyrannical Viscount of Kirkwall, Perrin Threnhold, attempts to cast the powerful and influential Templars out of his city. The attempt fails and Viscount Perrin is executed by the very Order he sought to oust. Marlow Dumar is made Viscount, and Meredith Strannard is appointed Knight-Commander of the Templar Order in Kirkwall by Grand Cleric Elthina.

9:22 Dragon: A cult of blood mages, conspiring with Grand-Cleric Callista and Knight-Commander Martel, plot a coup to take over the Chantry and assassinate Divine Beatrix III during the Ten Year Gathering, with dragons. The plot fails thanks to the efforts of Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast and Enchanter Regalyan D'Marcall. Most of the blood mages, along with Callista and Martel, are killed in the battle.

9:29 Dragon: After five centuries of inactivity, and being all but forgotten by the world, the Darkspawn discover the Old God Urthemiel. A new Blight is declared by the ancient Order of Grey Wardens. Warden-Commander Duncan, leader of the Order of the Grey in Ferelden, sets off to find new recruits to combat the Blight.

9:30 Dragon: The Blight begins in Southern Ferelden. The Darkspawn lie poised to invade all Ferelden from the Korcari Wilds. King Cailan leads a joint force of the Ferelden Royal Army and the Wardens of Orlais in an effort to stop the Blight before it begins at the ruins of Ostagar. The Battle of Ostagar, is a disastrous failure. Loghain Mac Tir betrays his king, leaving him to die. Most of the Fereldan army and the Grey Wardens are slaughtered, along with King Cailan and Duncan. Loghain attempts to forcefully gather the Fereldan lords under his banner, but many refuse, seeing him as an opportunist and traitor. The kingdom is thrown into civil war as the Blight ravages the land.

9:31 Dragon: Many desperate Fereldan refugees flee their homeland to the Free Marches to escape the Blight. Many flee to Kirkwall, and are met with hostility and prejudice from the xenophobic natives of the city. That same year, an entire fleet of qunari warriors, led by the Arishok, the commander of the entire qunari military, are washed up on the Wounded Coast and are left stranded in Kirkwall, with no means of returning home.

9:34 Dragon: After too many provocations and abuses from the citizens of Kirkwall, secretly orchestrated by Chantry zealots, the Arishok decides to overthrow Kirkwall's leadership and impose the Qun on the city. He leads a well planned and coordinated assault on the city that kills many and burns much of the city. Viscount Dumar is executed in his own keep at the Arishok's hands.

9:35 Dragon: Meredith Strannard officially assumes stewardship of Kirkwall, imposing her strict rule on the citizens, and even stricter sanctions on the Circle's mages. This causes the already high tensions between mages and Templars to rise even greater. Meredith starts using the Rite of Tranquility more liberally, in an attempt to stop magical corruption, but many see it as oppression and abuse. The mages' already miserable lives become even more unbearable, and many covertly try to undermine Meredith's authority, some resorting to blood magic and give credence to Meredith's accusations. Mages and Templars seem ready to tear each other's throats out, while the citizens of the city are caught in the middle. The people look to Grand Cleric Elthina to stop the conflict, but she urges patience and maintains neutrality. Meanwhile, the conflict continues.

9:37 Dragon: The rogue Warden and apostate known as Anders finally has enough of seeing his fellow mages being tormented and imprisoned at Meredith's hands while the Grand Cleric does nothing. He decides to finally remove any chance for compromise and assert action. Anders destroys the Kirkwall Chantry in a massive explosion, killing hundred, including Grand Cleric Elthina. Meredith unjustly calls for the Rite of Annulment to wipe out the Circle, even though the mages were not responsible, and the Templars begin slaughtering all mages in the city. Chaos erupts as demons and abominations run rampant in the city, destroying much of it. The mages and Templars face off in a final confrontation at the Gallows. First Enchanter Orsino suffers a mental breakdown, resorting to blood magic and turns himself into an aberrational Flesh Golem. Meredith is driven insane by the strange red lyrium sword she constructed, and turns on her own Templars. This event left much of the city in ruins and many people lost their lives.

9:38-39 Dragon: The Chantry convenes over the events at Kirkwall. Many are concerned that Circles all over Thedas may begin to rebel, while some think that the Templar Order should be restricted. To prevent the chances of more mages rebelling, the Chantry officially dissolves the College of Enchanters, forbidding to allow any more meetings. Unrest grows in Orlais as Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons begins to start sewing dissidence against Empress Celene in an attempt to gain legitimacy for the throne.

9:40 Dragon: A cure for mage Tranquility is discovered. The Circle of Dairsmuid is unlawfully annulled by the Seekers. The College of Magi convenes at the White Spire in Val Royeuax and votes to break away from the Chantry, refusing to bow to its stringent conditions and harsh authority over them. Lord-Seeker Lambert officially annuls the Nevarran Accord, pulling both the Templars and the Seekers away from the Chantry's stewardship to hunt down the mages.

Sick of being mistreated in their own homeland, the impoverished elves of Halamshiral declare Mien'harel, rebellion against their oppressors. Empress Celene marches to the former elven capital and burns the city to quash the rebellion. Duke Gaspard takes advantage of the situation and attacks Celene with his army, out flanking her and nearly killing the empress. A three-sided civil war erupts within Orlais; Gaspard and Celene who vie for the Gilded Throne, and Briala, who leads her fellow city elves against them both. The War of Lions engulfs the largest empire in Southern Ferelden.

9:41 Dragon: In a desperate attempt to stop the continuing violence that threatens to bring ruin to the world, Divine Justinia V calls for a Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes for the mages and Templars to meet, and reach a peaceful solution. Many thousands of people from all over Thedas attend this historic gathering. Everyone, including the Divine, is killed in a massive explosion that destroys the entire temple. A tear in the Veil known as the Breach rips the sky open and demons begin pouring into the world. A being known as the Elder One, claiming to be one of the seven Magister who broke into the Golden City, declares war on all of Thedas, and seeks to forcibly enter the Fade and make himself a god over all creation. He would lead an army of Tevinter Mages, fallen Grey Wardens, Red Templars and demons against every living soul in the world.

However, despite all the conflicts and bloodshed this Age has seen, there has never been an age with as many great heroes in the annals of its history. First there was King Maric the Savior, a prince born in the wild, his life on the run, but would free his country from a century of foreign occupation. Some would call him the greatest king since Calenhad the Silver Knight.

King Alistair Theirin, the forgotten son of Maric. Born to a peasant, raised by the Chantry, and recruited into the Wardens, he would rise above his bastard status to reclaim his father's throne ending civil war and uniting his country against the Blight. In the years since his ascension, Alistair had proven to those who might doubt him that he is his father's son.

Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden. With his legendary wrath, he avenged his betrayed family, gathered an army of mages, elves and dwarves to combat the Blight. He would go down in history as one of the greatest warriors to be born in Ferelden, and the only Wardens to ever exist that slew an Old God in single combat and lived. He created the Knights of the Silver Order, an order of warriors whose purpose would be to protect Ferelden's borders and protect her people. His name would forever become synonymous with patriotism.

Garret Hawke. Born a peasant, raised a farmer turned soldier. He would rise from a fleeing refugee to Champion of Kirkwall. Detective, defender and lover. Deep Roads explorer and soldier of fortune who left his mark on the world with whatever he pursued. Hawke delved in unknown depths of the Deep Roads, defeated the Arishok in single combat, and stood for the downtrodden mages, defying the Templars' cruelty. His many exploits became the stuff of legends and many throughout the world would look to him as inspiration and hero for all that he accomplished.

Cassandra Pentaghast, princess of Nevarra and daughter of House Pentaghast. She rose through the ranks of the Order of Seekers faster than most could dream, pushed beyond her limits by her loyalty and piety alone. She would become the most famous of her secretive Order when she saved Divine Beatrix III from a coup attempt within the Grand Cathedral and a blood mage's plot. For her heroism, she was declared the Hero of Orlais and the Right Hand of the Divine.

Now the world is staged for a new hero, one whose accomplishments united nations and saved the world from total annihilation and damnation. Rajmael of Clan Lavellan, a Dalish mage and self-proclaimed priest of the elven gods. He would rise from obscurity to become one of the greatest heroes in the history of Thedas. Found in the ruins of the Conclave, he bore a mark of mysterious origins that could seal the tears in the Veil. Though reluctant at first, and adamantly denying any loyalty to Andraste or the Maker, and denounced by the Chantry, the people see Rajmael as a hero, and he is made the Lord Inquisitor of the New Inquisition.

Through his efforts and leadership, the Mage-Templar War was brought to an end, sealed the Breach, seetled the War of Lions with Empress Celene remaining on the throne, and halted an army of demons. Inquisitor Rajmael would lead the New Inquisition in the War Against The Elder One with an army from almost every culture and walk of life in Thedas, the only one of its kind in history outside of a Blight. After being thwarted by the Inquisitor at every turn, the Elder One forces his nemesis into a final confrontation at the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and tried to force the Breach open once again to swallow the world. Inquisitor Rajmael slew the Elder One and sealed the Breach once again.

Year 9:44 of The Dragon Age:

Thanks to the Inquisition and the leadership and wisdom of Inquisitor Lavellan, the world has changed for the better. The war-weary nations of Southern Thedas have enjoyed a tranquility few have ever known as the world heals from the Elder One's machinations. There is a peace that has never existed before. Mages are no longer feared as potential abominations, elves are seen with respect and even admiration, and Orlais and Ferelden are even beginning to work together.

However, as the Chantry says, all things in this world are finite, and the Inquisition now faces what very well might be its end. The Inquisition is now the most powerful institution in the South, some might argue the most powerful in all Thedas. And as with anything that is great and powerful, there are those who fear it, and those who wish to exploit it. Ferelden sees the power and influence of the Inquisition as something that could easily abuse its status and authority. Many in Orlais see the power of the Inquisition as an opportunity to regain the prestige and influence it once wielded, and perhaps return back to their days of expansion.

After two years of keeping the critics at bay, Divine Victoria I convenes the first ever Exalted Council. The Council will convene at the Winter Palace where the representatives will voice their concerns and reasons for the Inquisition continuation or dissolution, with the Chantry acting as mediator. The representatives of Ferelden and Orlais will present their cases before the Divine, and Inquisitor Rajmael must stand before this council and convince them of the necessity of the Inquisition's continued existence and independence, or yield to the demands for their disbandment or servitude.

The Winter Palace, Halamshiral, Orlais...

The sun was still rising, but the day was bright. The gilded walls and pillars of the Winter Palace shined brightly in the daylight, and the banners of the many lords who were attending this gathering were hung high and fluttered in the warm spring wind. Many people from many kingdoms were gathered in the Palace. Not just from Orlais and Ferelden, but people from Antiva, Nevarra, the Free Marches, and even the Tevinter Imperium had come to attend this historic gathering.

The delegates from the Chantry, Orlais and Ferelden had already arrived the day before. Now everyone was waiting on the true subject of the council: Inquisitor Rajmael. However, everyone was stuck waiting for the Inquisition's arrival. It would seem the Inquisition's entourage took a detour south to the Arbor Wilds, for some personal matter of the Inquisitor's. That just gave the people who had already arrived more time to debate and gossip amongst themselves. Right now, the hot topic besides the Inquisitor was the newly appointed Divine.

Many of the attendees did their best to get as close to the new Divine as they possibly could, but her bodyguards permitted only a seldom few to actually approach her. Some wanted to see her to gain the blessings of the Most Holy, while others wanted to see whether the rumor and scandal that surrounded this young woman who rose to the most exalted rank in all of Thedas was true or not.

Divine Victoria was a storied and controversial figure. If rumor was to be believed, back when her name was Leliana, she was supposedly a bard and assassin in her youth before becoming a lay sister of the Chantry. Then she became a companion of the legendary Aedan Cousland and assisted him in his efforts against the Fifth Blight, then returned to the Chantry. While she was still officially a lay sister, she became a close servant and confidant of Divine Justinia V, then official Spymaster of the Inquisition. Leliana's accomplishments, as well as her well known piety and character, was enough to convince enough of the remaining Grand Clerics of her worthiness, and thus they elected to raise to the Sunburst Throne. A decision that brought joy to many, and concern to others.

Not even settled into her new miter, and already Divine Victoria's new policies and movements were causing people headaches. Her new policies concerning the mages were merely a start, one that caught most people off guard. But even more scandalous were the reformations Divine Victoria wanted to bring to the official Chant of Light, wishing to add to it, even verses that had long been removed from the official canon. Some considered it revolutionary, while others considered it blasphemy. Some were worried that she would not be able to remain neutral and give fair judgment over these proceedings, given her close association with the Inquisition.

All attention that was so ardently pressed on the Divine was suddenly pulled away when the court criers' fanfare sounded the approach of the Inquisition's entourage. Everyone hurried to the palace entrance to see the Inquisition's approach. Today might very well be the last day anyone will ever seen the Inquisition's march again.

Inquisition soldiers marched in formation and carrying their banner through the gates of the Winter Palace with disciplined unity, their footsteps and movements were like as one. The soldier parted the way into tightly formed ranks around the entry; the honor-guards held their axes at the ready in front, the bannermen held the Inquisition's flag proudly, and every soldier saluted in flawless, disciplined unison as the Inquisitor and his advisors rode into the Palace entryway.

Everyone began whispering excitedly amongst themselves at the sight before them. Even when the Empress arrived at this summit, they were not as excited. The sight of the these three great individuals was a pleasure very few could claim to have seen.

Commander Cullen, the general of the Inquisition's military who trained a ragtag group of volunteers, conscripts, peasants and mercenaries into a formidable force that would give any standing army reason for pause. Given the militaristic successes of the Inquistion, every knight in court knew to respect this former Templar. Every Orlesian lass and lady giggled beneath their masks and fans at the sight of this handsome blonde Fereldan soldier as he rode his horse pass them, and Cullen did his best not to notice.

Every noble who attended this gathering watched Ambassador Josephine with admiration as well as caution. Behind Josephine's noble grace and Antivan beauty was a sharp and cunning political mind that could easily be a make or break any noble. It would take even the most seasoned player of the Great Game a lifetime to reach the heights of political reverence, yet Josephine brought the entire Inquisition to that point by her own will and cunning alone, turning the Inquisition into a political power house.

However, every pair of eyes, from lord to servant, was looking upon perhaps the most important individual of this entire summit: Lord Inquisitor Rajmael. The elven servants in the palace dared to neglect their duties to look upon this elf who had risen so high in the world of the shemlen. Rajmael rode his silver white halla, Neirin, straight and proud, as an equal, and even a superior, to all the lords present. Without him, there never would have been an Inquisition, and today he might decide whether or not the Inquisition would continue to be.

"Ugh. Another parade, another bloody negotiation." Cullen groaned under his breath. He despised these formal ceremonies so much.

"Smiles, everyone. We must be very careful how we present ourselves." Josephine insisted, smiling brightly for everyone to see.

"Why did Divine Victoria call this Exalted Council in the first place? She's kept Orlais from bothering us for two years." Cullen said inquisitively.

"At increasing political cost, yes. She has done all she can, but the Exalted Council has become a necessity." Josephine answered seriously. She looked up to the balcony and noticed the Orlesian delegates, who were watching them like vultures behind their masks. "Orlais would control us, and based on their many marriage proposals, they have very specific plans for you."

Cullen lowered his head, dreading what they wanted from him. He had hoped that he never had to deal with such political maneuvering after his first visit to the Winter Palace. Josephine couldn't help but smile amusedly at his awkwardness.

"Our greatest concern is Ferelden. They would see us disbanded entirely." Josephine looked up at the balcony on the opposite side of the entry, waving politely to the Ferelden representative. The representative was neither receptive nor amused by her gesture.

Hearing his advisors' concern, Rajmael slowed Neirin's stride to move alongside them so they might speak.

"Josephine, who will be sitting on the council, and what should I know about them?" Rajmael asked, pointing to the banners.

Josephine looked at the banners and recognized the most important ones instantly. "Two wyverns either side a sword on a split field of yellow and blue, reverse...that is the crest of House De Montfort, Duke Cyril's family."

"I know we had dealings with him in the past, but of the man, I know very little." Rajmael admitted.

"He is a distant cousin of the Empress, and like his late father, Duke Prosper, Cyril is a formidable player of the Game, trained in the Chevalier arts by his father Prosper de Monfort." Josephine explained. "He has a leading seat on the Council of Heralds, so he wields great influence in the Orlesian Court."

"And the one from Ferelden?" Rajmael asked, pointing to the other banner.

"A lone tower on a red hill, white field. The Guerrin Family's heraldry." Josephine noted. "That means Arl Teagan is here."

"Arl Teagan? The lord of Redcliffe?" Rajmael recalled, remembering back when the mages had taken refuge there. "We took back his castle from Magister Alexius and saved the village. Would he not show us some clemency in these proceedings?"

"All the clemency he had for us has been spent in the two years he waited for this council." Josephine admonished softly. "He is one Ferelden's most respected politicians, and is famous for never backing down, no matter the opponent. We must tread carefully with him if we want the Inquisition to continue."

There were two more banners standing alongside Redcliffe's. Both of them were unknown to Rajmael, though he knew little of heraldry in the first place. "What about those other two? The one's next to Arl Teagan's?"

Josephine looked at them curiously. They were not that familiar to her as well. "A silver sword upright before a blue mountain and above rushing water? Oh my, that's the Order of Silver Knights, the order founded by the Hero of Ferelden to protect the kingdom's borders."

"The mountains represent the Frostbacks and the water represents the Amaranthine Ocean and Waking Sea. The areas that surround Ferelden's borders, that they've sworn to protect.." Cullen explained, a hint of pride in his voice.. "Many members of the Silver Knights attended the Conclave as bodyguards and were killed when the Breach opened. They must have rebuilt their numbers over the last two years."

"Sure looks like it to me." Rajmael pointed over to the rather fearsome looking contingency of soldiers posted with the Fereldan delegates. Each one of them was clad in high quality silverite armor, and looked like they were ready for a fight at the drop of a hat.

"Oh, my. They look like they're here for a fight." Josephine observed.

"That's usually how Fereldan-style politics goes, Ambassador." Cullen stated. "And these are not your usual run-of-the-mill soldiers, either. Word is that these men and women have all been trained by Aedan Cousland himself."

"Why would they be attending this summit?" Rajmael asked curiously.

"No doubt to prove to these Orlesians and their Chevaliers that Ferelden is still a country to be reckoned with." Cullen shrugged. "My countrymen never turn down a chance to bare their teeth when Orlais challenges them. Look over there."

Cullen pointed over to a man in his early forties. He was a plain-looking man with dirty blonde hair. Like the rest of the Silver Order, he wore silverite splintmail armor and there was a symbol on his breast that signified that he was highly ranked. Instead of carrying a sword like most knights, this man had a silverite flanged mace strapped to his hip. Oddly enough, the man didn't carry himself like a soldier, yet despite this, the rest of the Silver Knights showed him the utmost respect.

"That's Ser Alec." Cullen informed, speaking with deepest respect.

"The Ser Alec the Valiant?" Josephine asked, awed by the man's presence.

"Who?" Rajmael asked curiously. As an elf, even after these last few years, Rajmael still wasn't familiar with human heroes.

"He used to be a simple farmer, but the darkspawn slaughtered his livestock and destroyed his crops." Cullen explained. "Driven by desperation to save his family from starvation, Alec attempted to steal some grain from the crown and was caught. Normally, theft from the crown is punishable by death. Instead, he was conscripted into the army by Aedan Cousland himself. Alec showed great prowess and leadership skills during the Amaranthine Crisis, and all the common folk made him their hero. The Hero of Ferelden was so impressed by his skills, that he was the first man to be recruited into the newly founded Silver Order. The way I hear it, Ser Alec is now the Lord Commander of the Silver Order."

"Wow. Not bad for a farmer." Rajmael said rather impressed. "The man's a hero, but why didn't I hear about him back when the Inquisition was started?"

"From what I understand, most of the Silver Order was killed in the Conclave, those that were left, including Ser Alec, were trying to recuperate from their losses so that their Order wouldn't die out in a single generation." Josephine answered. "That's why they weren't able to protect much of Ferelden when the Breach was opened."

"And now they're here demanding our disbandment. Nothing like having an Order of heroes against us to make matters worse." Rajmael sighed.

"Don't discount yourself, Inquisitor. There are many throughout the world who consider you and this entire Inquisition to be heroes." Josephine assured.

"Still, their presence will make things difficult." Cullen stated dourly. "With the Silver Order reestablished, many Fereldan lords will believe they no longer need us."

"That is why we're here to argue our case at the Exalted Council, Commander." Josephine reminded. "We should be working alongside people like the Silver Order, not butting heads with one another. The Exalted Council must be made to see why we're still needed."

"I hope you have some impressive speeches lined up, Ambassador. Because I think this crowd is going to need some convincing. Wish Varric was here, he could probably bullshit this whole Council into believing us." Rajmael spoke. "Let's just say, for argument's sake, that this doesn't go in our favor, and the Inquisition does disband. Do the two of you have any fallback plans?"

"I wouldn't call it a fallback plan, I'll just take up role as head of House Montilyet sooner than I was expecting. And the Court of Antiva has offered me several prestigious offices, should I wish to return to home." Josephine answered casually. "It wouldn't be too bad, I suppose. Maker knows I'll probably need to keep an eye on Yvette."

"Well, you certainly have more going on for you than I do." Cullen stated gruffly. "I was a Templar for most of my life, never really had any other plans for the future, let alone expected a career change to military commander. I suppose I'll rejoin the Order and try to help them serve without being leashed to the addiction of lyrium. There are many who deserve that chance."

"That is an admirable goal, Commander. I think there would be many who would wish to see your Order reformed." Josephine complimented. "And what about you, Inquisitor? Do you have any other plans? Take up leadership of your clan? Become a full time parent for Eva? Maybe find more time to spend with a certain Seeker?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Josephine. We still just might get through today. But I do have some plans if this doesn't go our way." Rajmael answered.

The three Inquisition leaders continued talking as they made their way into the Winter Palace. They were so focused on their worries for the Exalted Council, that they didn't notice the other banner with the Fereldan delegation. A banner depicting twin axes crossed behind a winged wreathe on a blue field.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael stood alone in the Exalted Council's meeting chamber. It was quiet now, but soon it would be filled with heated arguments and vicious debates over the Inquisition's continued existence. Ironically, this was the only place in the Palace where Rajmael could find some peace and quiet. This was going to be another life changing decision, and he wanted a moment of solitude before the council convened.

This was going to be yet another historic event, one that could have serious repercussions on the world at large. And once again, he found himself to be the epicenter of this change. Yet, right now, all Rajmael could think about was how much he wanted to be anywhere else, and about how everything led to this moment after Corypheus' death.

At first, everything was great. Even when the Blight was ended, there hadn't been such celebration. Then everyone started to leave, and when most of them were gone, things seemed to fall apart with them.

There had still been no word on Solas, even as Leliana's best agents used every resource and trick they had to try and track him down. It wasn't that Solas was hard to track, but very good at evading them. The elven apostate was more clever and cunning than most would think. There were so many unanswered questions Rajmael wanted to ask, but at this point it seemed unlikely that he would be able to get the chance.

First to depart the Inquisition was Sera and Vivienne, which was no huge loss to Rajmael, as far as he was personally concerned. With the world saved, Sera decided to go back to what she was good at and resumed the life of a thief with the Red Jennies. As it was, Rajmael had no idea where Sera was, and he really did not care. Putting up with her attitude was a chore Rajmael hated, and it made it difficult for him to even bother to care if she was even alive.

Vivienne went back to resume her post at the Orlesian Court, and quickly became an outspoken critic of Leliana new policies concerning mages and a rival of Enchanter Fiona's College of Magi. She even kept a firm grasp over the loyalists who followed her, granting them some political sway. There were still many in the Orlesian Court who owed her favors, and those who were loyal to her deceased lover Bastien, and that allowed Vivienne to keep hold of her footstone in the political world.

Once peace keeping operations were established, Iron Bull decided to take his leave. He was a free man now, no longer bound to the Qun, and decided he liked not living under the employ of a revered institution. Iron Bull decided he loved the life of a mercenary, so he and his Chargers went back to what they did best: kicking ass and getting drunk. Rajmael was still hearing stories about their exploits. The only thing that made Bull slightly apprehensive to depart, was leaving Dorian. The two of them had gotten close over the course of their battle against Corypheus, and even closer when Corpheus was killed. But the two of them new that their lifestyles and obligations would eventually cause them to leave.

Dorian decided to go back to the Imperium and settle the matters he left behind. After what he had seen Rajmael accomplish, he was determined to make some real changes in the Imperium. Too many of his countrymen were stuck in the past, it was time for them to change along with the rest of the world. Sadly, he couldn't just go back to Tevinter with Iron Bull. The son of a Magister returning from the South with a Qunari lover in tow would just invite more trouble than he could handle, and kill any movement he started before it began. So, he had to leave Bull behind.

With his crimes pardoned, and no longer needing to live a lie, Blackwall decided it was time for him to go back into the world and make up for the terrible things he did. He chose to start by seeking out those who were left of his company, and try to make up for what he did to them. He's started going by his real name of Thom Ranier now, trying to start anew with the name he had forsaken. Rajmael wished him the best, both in helping his men, and regaining the honor of his name.

Rajmael was unsurprised when Varric told him that he was going back to Kirkwall. With Corypheus dead, and Cassandra not holding him at swordpoint, the dwarven merchant decided it was finally time for him to go home. He wanted to make sure that Kirkwall was taken care of, and see how his friends were doing. After everything Varric had done and been through, it was a choice Rajmaell wholly supported.

Cole's departure was quiet and subtle, which was something Rajmael had gotten used to from him. Rajmael found a note of thanks on his desk one morning saying that Cole decided to leave and find out more about what it's like to be human. Rajmael was happy to know that Cole was now seeking to find out more about what life had to offer, and he had no doubt he would continue to be compassionate to everyone he met.

Cassandra was the last to leave, and her departure was the most painful. Her company was the only thing that made Rajmael's time as Inquisitor tolerable. However, like everyone else, she to had her obligations to fulfill. Cassandra had gotten word that there were other Seekers had survived, and she went to seek them out, perhaps even reestablish their Order. The two lovers kept in contact, writing letters as often as possible, wishing to be together as soon as possible. The chance to see her again at the summit was the only consolation that Rajmael had here.

Rajmael's heart cringed painfully at the thought of the events that happened the day before. He had gone to the Temple of Mythal where many of his kind were now studying the ancient secrets of their past. Many Dalish clans were now using the Temple as a safe haven to train their da'len gifted with magic, instead of only needing to keep a few with their clans. Rajmael's adopted daughter Eva was there. He hadn't seen her since Junnarel died, and he wanted to meet her, with the hope that seeing how she has grown up might lift his spirits. Instead, all he found was heartbreak and anger. Eva's angry words and pained tears still tore Rajmael up inside, and it is very possible that any future relationship he might have with Evanura and Nethras' child is now destroyed. And it was all his fault...

Rajmael grunted in pain as a searing pain like a knife stabbing him erupted in his hand, and the Anchor began flaring in his palm. After he sealed the Breach a second time, the Anchor was as stable as can be, but lately, this magical mark had been becoming more and more irritating. At first, it just crackled in his hand like a minor annoyance, but now it was acting out, and getting painful, like someone was stabbing him in the hand. This was why he still had agents pursuing Solas. Perhaps he could tell him what is wrong with the Anchor.

"Greetings, Lord Inquisitor." A familiar, gentle voice addressed sincerely. Mother Giselle walked into the meeting chamber and bowed respectfully to the elven hero. "It has been too long. I hope the years have been kind to you."

The Chantry Mother's unexpected arrival took Rajmael's mind off the pain in his hand. He wished he could answer her question honestly. "How have you been, Mother Giselle?"

"I spent last summer in Empreise du Lion, overseeing the relief efforts there. The townspeople send their regards. The Dales are finally recovering." Mother Giselle answered with a gladdened heart.

"I'm glad to see that you've continued to help, even after Corypheus' death."

"Winning was always ever only half the battle. The rest, and possibly the most difficult, comes after victory has been achieved, for that is when the most healing is needed." Mother Giselle smiled. "Divine Victoria has asked me to greet you on her behalf. She is currently addressing the Fereldan delegations concerns."

"How has the new Divine been doing these last few years?" Rajmael asked curiously.

"That is hardly for me to say, Inquisitor."

"I can recall more than a few occasions where that didn't stop you before, Mother Giselle." Rajmael reminded, remembering those moments like they were yesterday.

The elder Chantry Mother took Rajmael's point with a smile. "Victoria has proven herself most adept at maneuvering the politics of her station, as well as winning allies with bother her intelligence and her faith. After everything she did for you, Divine Justinia, and during the Blight, many consider her a hero. It's a blessing in these trying times. We are lucky to have her."

"I suppose I should meet with the Divine before the Exalted Council starts."

"I believe she would love that, Your Worship. The Divine sees the good that you can do, and have done. Duke Cyril will wish you greet you on Orlais' behalf. I believe he is currently speaking with the Tevinter Ambassador. Many of your friends have expressed desire to meet with you. I hope you can oblige them before the Exalted Council begins."

"The Imperium has sent an ambassador to these proceedings?" Rajmael asked curiously.

"Yes, Your Worship. Dorian Pavus has taken the chance to return from Tevinter." Mother Giselle answered. "It will be good to see him again. I owe my apology. I allowed my distrust of the Imperium to could my judgment when we first met. He took a great risk to come help us, and deserved better treatment."

"You're going to apologize? To Dorian?" Rajmael asked rather surprised. He remembered how she seemed to wish him gone, and Rajmael recalled that most members of the Chantry weren't usually so apologetic.

"I have little patience for those who cannot admit when they were wrong, Your Worship. Myself included." Mother Giselle said sternly, more towards herself than Rajmael. "I shall have to make my apology very public. I know how much Messere Pavus loves an audience."

"Well, I suppose I should meet with my friends before the Exalted Council begins. I doubt I'll get the chance once we begin." Rajmael determined, turning to leave.

"Your Worship, a final question before you depart, if I may." Mother Giselle beckoned. "This Exalted Council...Fereldan would see the Inquisition disbanded. They do not trust any power that could overtake them. And Orlais would see its power as a feather in a Chevalier's helmet. A weapon to use for their influence. What do you wish to do with the Inquisition?"

"I don't know, Mother Giselle. That's what I came here today to determine." Rajmael answered in honest apprehension. "Both sides have their points and faults, and the Inquisition's neutrality is as much an advantage as it is a hindrance. I'll argue my case, but I will also listen to what they demand."

"A most wise attitude, Your Worship. There are too few who would weigh the outcome for everyone involved, and think only of their own agenda." Mother Giselle complimented sincerely. "I wish you luck in the negotiations. Maker watch over you, Inquisitor. I shall not take anymore of your time."

Elsewhere in the Winter Palace...

Marquis Briala walked through the Winter Palace with her head held high. Today, she strode through these grand halls not as a servant, but as an equal member of the aristocracy. A notion that still surprised people. It had been two years since she last set foot in the Winter Palace, the night where she and Celene and reunited and Briala was elevated to the position of Marquis of the Dales. It had also been two years since Briala ventured with the Inquisitor and came into confrontation with his adopted brother, who was leading a cult of elven fanatics who wanted to plunge Orlais into another civil war and kill an innumerable amount of humans with an ancient magic well.

Since then, Briala had dedicated herself to ensuring the fair treatment and equalization of all elves in Orlais. She had also granted lands to the Dalish clans so that they might have a place to rest, maybe even settle. She had also worked alongside Inquisitor Rajmael to ensure the sanctity of the Temple of Mythal that was discovered in the Arbor Wilds. Together, they passed a law that decreed the cultural and historical significance the Temple had to the elves, and that only elves were allowed to enter it, so that they might rebuild their heritage. Even Divine Victoria passed a decree that all elven mages who wished to take sanctuary and train in the Temple of Mythal were to be left alone, and not interfered with by the Templars or anyone else.

This caused some controversy with scholars and Chantry officials, who wished to deny the existence of the temple because it conflicted with centuries of official and biased records that denied elven history. There was not much these naysayers could do now. The elves had a place in this world, and the rest would have to adapt.

Sadly, Briala and Celene, like many nobles here, came here only to witness the Exalted Council, not participate in it. As the ruler of Orlais, Celene must listen to the will of her people, and there were many in the court who wished to see the Inquisition come under the leadership of Orlais, whereas Ferelden wanted to see them drop their banners and disperse. Either way, Celene was obligated to abide by the outcome of the Exalted Council.

Since neither she nor Celene would be taking part in these proceedings, and since neither of them have had a proper sabbatical in ages, the two of them decided to spend as much time together as possible. They wouldn't bother with meaningless talk and gossip of the nobles and dignitaries, especially since everyone was here to see the Inquisitor. Today, Celene and Briala would spend every hour of this gathering together, and they would make every second last.

As Briala made her way to the Imperial Chambers to wait for Celene, she noticed someone in the interior art gallery of the Winter Palace, looking at the statues of the Grey Wardens. He was a tall man, Fereldan judging from the armor he wore. He had a mane of dark hair pulled back into a knot, and blue eyes looking intently at the masterfully carved statues. The most striking thing she noticed about him were those blue tattoos on his face. Something only a Fereldan could do something so brazen.

The statues the man was looking were chiseled out of solid marble and carved into the images of knights, men and women both, all armed with swords and lances. Each face was carved so realistically that they looked like they would come to life. Celene had the previous gallery of statues removed and replaced with these over a decade ago. Everyone was awed by the gesture.

Briala didn't know why, but for some reason she felt compelled to speak with him. Like his apparent interest in the statues urged her to take part in admiring the craftsmanship of these works.

"Magnificent aren't they?" Briala observed next to the stranger. "These statues were commissioned by Empress Celene to commemorate the Grey Wardens' victory over the Blight in Denerim ten years ago. She brought the best, most skilled artisans from all over the empire to depict their heroism. Each one a true piece of art."

"Pieces of art? Pieces of shit is more like it." The stranger scoffed with a think Fereldan accent.

"I beg pardon, Messere?" Briala asked, rather surprised with the man's tone and reaction.

"This is supposed to honor the Wardens at Ferelden?" The man asked almost offended. "No mabari war hounds, or even a presentable griffin. I do, however, see plenty of lion and steed motifs, the symbols of Orlesian knighthood and nobility. If this is supposed to honor the Wardens at Ferelden, then it's a fucking insult. All I see is more Orlesian propaganda in an attempt to capture glory over something they had no part in."

"And who are you to make such judgment, Messere?" Briala asked one part curios, the other part offended.

"First of all, I'm someone who studied art and symbolism at the University of Val Royeaux. Second of all, I'm someone who was actually there in Denerim when the Blight was ended. So to see the Orlesian trying to cast those events like it was something glorious like they were the ones who saw it happen, is pretty insulting."

"Excuse me. I hate interrupt your conversation with such a lovely creature as this lady here..." A tanned elf with an Antivan accent interrupted. "But perhaps you could continue your conversation about the symbolism and presentation of Orlesian art another time? I'm sure there's other things we could be doing?"

"Right. Please excuse me, Mademoiselle." The Fereldan stranger turned and left the gallery.

Briala was left somewhat stunned by not only the man's words, but also his observation. It was true that the statues here did little to portray the actual events during the Blight, or even capture any Ferelden influences. They were commissioned by an Orlesian empress and crafted by Orlesian artisans, so it only made sense that they would look Orlesian. How art convey true events if it doesn't even represent the truth accurately?

Briala decided to push the thoughts of the man and his opinions of art aside. Celene was waiting for her in the Royal Apartments, and Briala didn't intend to keep her lover waiting.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael walked out of the Palace and made his way down the step down to the garden where most of the guests and attendees were congregating. The last time he was here two years ago, when he attended Celene's ball party, he was so preoccupied with trying to find the assassin that he never got to see the garden. It still didn't compare to beauties of the wild that he was used to, but it was lovely nonetheless. As he made his way down the steps, he saw a certain beardless, hairy-chested dwarf shooting the breeze with a human noble.

"The Prince of Starkhaven wrote to you again." The human noble informed. The man was a Marcher, judging from his accent.

"Of course he did. Just add that to the pile with the notes from the Merchant's Guild." Varric waved off.

"Oh, and Guard-Captain Aveline had a very...colorful message for you." The noble added. "Apparently, she isn't very happy with the state you left Lowtown in."

"Aw, jeez. Look, Isabella's the one who decided to throw a going away party. I can't help it if she decided to hire a half-assed fire dancer and got Daisy to start casting spells drunk." Varric groaned. The surface dwarf glanced over at the Inquisitor and looked at him like he was his salvation. "Rajmael! Andraste's perky tits, am I glad to see you."

Rajmael was a little worried as to why both the Prince of Starkhaven and the Guard-Captain of Kirkwall wanted Varric. Knowing the dwarf, he had to have been in some kind of trouble. "Alright, Varric. What did you do this time, and who'd you piss off?"

"Oh, why, Lord Inquisitor, I am offended." Varric huffed sarcastically. "I'll have you know that I've never been convicted of anything. Officially."

"And unofficially?"

Varric shifted in place rather sheepishly. "I'd probably be serving ten life sentences followed by an unceremonious execution into an unmarked grave."

"Oh, if any of that were true, my job would probably be much easier." The nobleman muttered to himself.

"And who're you?" Rajmael asked the human.

"Oh, this is Bran Kenric. Until recently her was the Viscount..."

"Provisional Viscount." Kenric corrected.

"...Of Kirkwall." Varric finished.

"You mean to tell me the former head of a major city-state is now delivering your mail? How did that happen?" Rajmael asked disbelievingly.

"I have finally, gratefully, resumed my post as seneschal, now that Master Tethras has been elected Viscount of Kirkwall." Bran Kenric answered, relieved to say it himself.

Rajmael suddenly felt dazed, like someone struck him on the head with a mace. "I must be having a stroke or something. It sounded to me like you just said Varric was made the Viscount of Kirkwall."

"You heard right, Inquisitor. That's exactly what he said." Varric assured.

"Well, it seems you two have a great deal to discuss. Why don't I excuse myself." Bran walked off a small distance away from them to give them a moment.

"I...I think I need to sit down and take a moment to process this." Rajmael said trying to wrap his mind around this. He looked over to Bran with a look of bewilderment. "Varric doesn't enough have enough responsibility to attend a Merchant's Guild meeting, lies with every third breath, and I'm pretty sure he cheats at cards, yet you'll elect to lead an entire city-state?"

"That's exactly what happened, Your Worship." Kenric called over.

"Don't make such a big deal out of it, Inquisitor." Varric urged. "It's mostly just a formality. There's a keep that's more like a tomb, a throne more uncomfortable than reunions with my family, and a pointy crown I wouldn't be caught dead in. And an endless amount of complaints I have to do something about."

"Still, how the hell did that happen?"

"Well, when I got back to Kirkwall, everything was still a mess." Varric sighed. "None of the nobles wanted to step and take the job of being Viscount because they thought it was cursed, considering the tragic demises of its previous holders. No one was doing anything about the state the city was in, so I decided to coordinate relief efforts, get the businesses and harbor running again, and I guess they took that as me volunteering for the job."

"If you're doing all that, then what's the Champion doing? Is he still in the Anderfels?" Rajmael inquired. He hadn't heard any word of the Champion since he left for the Anderfels to tell the Grey Wardens of Weisshaupt what happened to their brethren in the South, and he Rajmael was eager to hear any word of him.

"Funny you should ask, 'cause Hawke's back in Kirkwall now, got back half a year ago actually." Varric answered gladly.

"Well, that's outstanding news! Tell me, what happened at Weisshaupt? What do the Wardens intend to do?" Rajmael asked, half curious and half excited. He had heard all the exploits of the Champion and wanted to know the details of his latest adventure.

Varric shrugged and scratched his head uncomfortably. "I...can't really say. Sorry, Inquisitor, but Hawke wants to keep the details of his latest exploits a secret, for now. And I sort of promised on Bianca's cocking ring that I wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone."

"You know I'm not too bad about keeping secrets, either, Varric." Rajmael reminded.

"I know, Inquisitor, but I this is Hawke's story to tell or withhold, and not for me to blab about. I mean, I'll probably just makeup some bullshit story that everyone will believe, but I'll have to wait for Hawke to give me the OK to write down that story. Anyway, enough about that. I was hoping to catch you before the summit began. I got you a sort of present." Varric handed Rajmael an expensive-looking scroll stamped with the seal of Kirkwall.

"What's this?"

"This, my friend, is the official recognition of your titles and holdings in Kirkwall." Varric revealed with a big grin on his face. "Congratulations! You're an official Comte now."

Seneschal Bran walked over in protest. "You can't actually do that without..."

"Too late! Already did it." Varric interrupted smugly before his attention back to his friend. "I also drafted an alliance with the elf-led City Council of Wycome, and Keeper Deshana. Your clan's got some political muscle in the Free Marches now."

"That still needs to be reviewed by the..."

"You were leaving us to talk, remember?" Varric reminded the fussy seneschal. Bran sighed in frustration and walked away, but not out of earshot of their conversation.

"Giving lands and titles to men of authority? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were being crooked, Varric. Well, more crooked than usual, anyway." Rajmael joked.

"Look, it's not that big a deal, Inquisitor. And besides, what kind of politician would I be if I didn't pull impossible favors for good friends?" Varric laughed. "I have no idea how this Exalted Council's gonna turn out, but at least you'll have a title and a mansion waiting for you in Kirkwall if things don't go your way."

"Maybe we can get together in the Viscount's Keep and play some Wicked Grace with your friends." Rajmael suggested jokingly. "You can throw a couple of buildings in the pot."

"No! Not again." Bran shouted. "The Guard-Captain is still mad at you for trying to bet the guard barracks to Captain Isabella, who was going to turn it into a strip club."

"Aveline needs to calm down. I knew Rivaini was bluffing that last hand." Varric insisted.'

~XoXoXo~

Iron Bull had arrived with his Chargers before the Inquisitor did. They were doing a job clearing giant spiders that were nesting in some lord's vineyard in Northern Orlais, and were able to get it over with quickly before making their way here. Iron Bull couldn't believe that the Winter Palace actually had its own tavern. He always thought the Orlesians found such things to be too uncouth and lowbrow to have any place in the Winter Palace, but this proved that even people as snooty and uptight as Orlesian Nobleman needed a stiff drink now and again.

To make the time pass while they waited for their former employers arrival, Krem and the boys thought it would be a good idea to place bets on Iron Bull against the other tavern patrons in an arm-wrestling match. Thankfully, most of the people here were tanked enough to actually think they could win, and the Chargers were making some easy money.

"YEAH! What now?!" Iron Bull laughed raucously as threw his current opponent right off the table.

The Chargers laughed with their chief while the other betters around the tavern groaned in disappointment. They all bet a lot of money on the Bull's latest victim, but it turned out to be a bad investment. At this rate, they might be sitting through the Exalted March without their clothes on.

"Come on now! Is there not a real man among any of you Blighters here?!" Krem challenged, holding the winners purse in his hands. "Whose gut the guts and the biceps to take on the Iron Bull? I got this heavy bag of sovereigns for anyone who thinks they can take the Bull by the horns!"

The patrons all looked amongst themselves, but no takers stepped forward. They all wanted to see the massive oxman get beaten by a local, but after three Chevaliers, one captain of the guard, and four hired musclebound thugs, their hope was beginning to wane. Where was the Champion of Kirkwall when you needed him?

"I'll take that bet." A thick Fereldan accented voice sternly called from the back of the crowd. The crowd cheered and made way for the challenger who sat at the table opposite of the Bull.

"Ha-ha! Oh, you're all in for it now!" Laughed a tanned elf with an Antivan accent.

"Alright everyone! Here comes your savior. Get your gold and place your bets!" Krem hollered loudly.

Iron Bull eyed this stranger, and had to admit that he looked a lot tougher than the last eight humans he throttled. He was obviously some kind of military officer, judging from the way he carried himself, but it was hard to determine his rank since the guy wasn't wearing a uniform. The definitely from Fereldan, judging by the black armor her wore adorned with hound motifs. His companion was a tanned elf with dirty blonde hair and practically reeked of the Antivan leather armor he was wearing. The only thing that made Bull not take these guys all that seriously were ridiculous designs they had painted on their faces.

"So, guy, what's you name?" Bull asked, setting his arm on the table.

"You can call mer 'Ser', qunari." The man stated gruffly.

"Hmph. Little hard for me to take your tough-guy-talk when you're wearing makeup. But I gotta admit, it makes you both look kinda cute." Iron Bull mocked. "Tell me something, do you guys do each others' make up often?"

"Careful Chief, men who wear makeup are always more dangerous than they look." Krem joked sarcastically.

The stranger's eye twitched angrily. Obviously, he didn't care for the mercenaries' jokes. "Alright, now you've gone and made this a little personal. Nobody knocks the ink."

"Ooh. You're even cuter when you're made." Iron Bull laughed.

"While I do admit that these marking are to enhance our already ridiculous handsomeness, I cannot abide your mockery." The elf huffed. "So how about this: I'll wager this bag of coins, a round for everyone in the house, and all of your men have to wear makeup for the duration of your stay here if my friend here can beat you."

"Alright, Chief, now you've got to kick this guy's ass." Krem insisted. "We've never backed out of a bet, and I sure as shit am not wearing makeup here."

"Okay, you've got my attention. But what if I win?" Iron Bull asked.

The elf paused thoughtfully for a moment before inspiration hit him. "Tell you what, I'm in a good mood today, so in the event that you do manage to beat my friend here, I'll give an Orlesian Battering Ram."

That was all the incentive Bull needed. He quickly took out his money and placed his arm on the table. May as well enjoy himself as much as possible while he waited for the Inquisitor.

"Oh, come on! Do you really need to be a disgusting perv here!?" The Fereldan man groaned in disgust at his elven companion.

"Hey, we're in a country full of...adventurous individuals. Besides, where will ever get the chance to see such a fine qunari specimen again?" The elf defended.

The stranger scoffed in disgust, placed his arm on the table and locked his grip with the Bull's. Despite the man's stature, the Tal-Vashoth mercenary still towered over him and had a huge advantage in reach and weight. To many in the tavern, this wasn't even going to be a contest.

Krem placed his hand over the competitors' interlocked fists and checked if they were both ready. "Alright, you ready, Chief? You ready...Ser? Begin!"

Iron Bull clenched his fist around the man's hand and torqued all his upper body strength, looking to finish his opponent right off before this contest even started. The Chargers cheered to see their Chief knock his opponent's arm down so fast.

"Ha! Pay up, elf!" Krem laughed. "Oh, and if you're going to do that trick you mentioned, I'd recommend plenty of rendered nug fat."

"As eager as I am to fulfill my bargain, I'm afraid you're celebrating a little too soon." The elf stated, pointing to his friend.

The elf was right and their celebration was short lived. Bull was failing to press the man's arm to the table. In fact, all his motion was stopped dead in place. Nothing happening, despite Bull's effort.

Bull was stunned, it should have been over now. The man's arm was bent over the side, yet no matter how much Bull pushed, he couldn't slam his arm down.

"Hm. Not bad, Tal-Vashoth. Guess you're not as weak as you look." The Fereldan stranger complimented sarcastically. "But you're still not strong enough."

Iron Bull was almost shocked senseless when the man began pushing his arm back. Iron Bull pressed all his weight down on the man's arm, trying to smash his wrist to the table, but it wasn't working. The man smiled a sinister grin, clenched the Bull's hand so hard, it felt like he was cracking his bones.

"Grr! C'mon! What the shit?!" Iron Bull shouted in frustration. This couldn't be happening. This stranger was actually forcing him back, no matter how much the Bull fought. He summoned all his strength to halt this guy, he wasn't going to lose in front of his men.

"Okay, I'm bored now." The Fereldan yawned. In one swift motion, he slammed Iron Bull's wrist to the table and threw the massive mercenary to the floor.

The tavern was filled with cheers and groans of all those who won and lost their respective bets. Krem and the Chargers were left crestfallen at not only the loss of everything they won and having to buy the house a drink, but the prospect that they must now all wear makeup for the duration of the Exalted Council was most humiliating. Krem was especially unhappy.

"Oh, come now, ser. Don't look so sad." The smart-aleck elf urged mockingly. "I think you'd look rather fetching in some makeup."

"Come on, let's go. I'm done here." The Fereldan stranger called his companion, collecting all the gold and leaving Iron Bull on the floor.

Stitches just came back from the latrine when he returned to the Tavern. He expected to see his Chief and the rest of the Chargers celebrating with ale with the gold from the money they had won from the arm wrestling bets. Instead, he returned to see his commander on the floor groaning in pain, and worse yet, seeing Lieutenant Krem putting on makeup. This was either a bad dream or the apocalypse. His realizations came to life when the Fereldan warrior with tattoos on his face walked past him. All he could do was stand there with his jaw hanging open like an idiot as the warrior walked past him.

"Hey, Skinner! Don't just stand there with your mouth open, looking like an idiot." Iron Bull hollered. "Come over here and give me a hand. I think that guy may have dislocated my shoulder."

"Be glad that's all he did, Chief." Skinner said, checking for any injuries. "Don't you know who that was?"

"A pair of pricks." Krem stated while applying some blemish to his cheeks.

"Oh, just be glad their not in earshot, Lieutenant." Skinner replied. "Last time I saw that man was in Denerim ten years ago during the Blight. Leading the charge to Fort Drakon."

"Wait a minute. No...you've gotta be shitting me!" Realization hit Iron Bull upside the head like the mace that took out his eye, and now shared Skinner's astonishment. "Hot damn, I almost had my arm dislocated by that guy?! I should have bought him a drink."

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael decided to make his way over to the tavern that was in the garden. With so many visitors here, all talking to each other and meeting people they hated, Rajmael had no doubt that there were enough alcohol here to drown a village. By the time he arrived there, Iron Bull and the Chargers had already caused a ruckus. Iron Bull couldn't stay long, seeing as he had an injury to tend to. Rajmael was beyond surprised to learn that someone not only beat the Iron Bull in an arm-wrestling match, but also managed to dislocate the Bull's arm in the process. Rajmael didn't know whether to be shocked or scared, because a man who was capable of beating Iron Bull in front of his men must have been one mean son of a bitch.

While Bull went off to have Stitches pull his massive arm back into his socket, Rajmael decided to sit down and have a drink. Take a moment to relax before the damned Exalted Council started. His pointed ears pricked when he heard the melodious singing voice that could only belong to Maryden Hawlewell, the lovely bard of the Inquisition's tavern.

The young minstrel was singing a ballad about the Inquisition and the people who fought for it. Orlesians, Fereldans, and Inquisition members alike began gathering around the beautiful young singer and gently tossed a few gold pieces her way as she sung. It was like Maryden's music had made all of them forget that they were all here to argue with one another, and was bringing them a sense of harmony and unity, if only for the briefest of moments. And standing at the front of the gathered crowd, was a young man wearing a wide-brimmed hat and patchwork clothing, and was looking at the pretty minstrel with more intent than the other onlookers.

Rajmael was actually quite surprised that Cole was standing amongst other people instead of hiding in the background watching them, and that he was actually allowing himself to be seen by people. Now that Cole was human, he must be getting used to being seen. What shocked Rajmael the most and almost made him choke on his own drink, was when the young bard finished her song, and Cole walked up to Maryden and gently kissed her. A gesture Maryden happily returned Cole's affection.

Rajmael swore he had never seen anything so adorable anywhere in human lands.

"Hello, Inquisitor." Cole greeted happily, finally noticing his friend's presence.

"Oh, Lord Inquisitor. Greetings." Maryden addressed with a smile.

"Is this what it looks like between you two?" Rajmael asked with a grin.

"Yes." Cole laughed warmly, holding Maryden's hand in his. "I wanted to learn more about being human, and I think I found the best part of it with Maryden. Her songs make people happy, forget their troubles. And I can make her happy in return."

Maryden hugged Cole close to her. "The world has ample pain, Inquisitor. The compassion Cole has is a rare gift indeed. I can think of nobody else to inspire to keep seeing."

"Well, then, carry on you two. I suspect many people would appreciate your gifts, even if only for a moment."

~XoXoXo~

It had been two years since Thom Ranier had set foot in the Winter Palace, back when he was using the name Blackwall. Two years since he revealed the truth of his identity and his crimes. Two years since the Inquisitor absolved him of his crimes and gave him the chance to redeem himself. Ever since then, Ranier had worked tirelessly to try and make up for the things he did by seeking out the men he betrayed and beg their forgiveness, aid them in any way he could. It had been difficult, but now Ranier had a purpose that was more fulfilling than anything he had ever done before in his whole life.

Now this Exalted Council, a gathering of prissy nobles who were so quick to forget that the only reason why they're still alive to complain is because of what the Inquisitor did for them. Like so many times before throughout history, people were so quick to discard their heroes once they became an inconvenience. Now that the Inquisition has served it's purpose, the privileged and powerful wanted to get things back to the way they were and get rid of the ones who saved them. It would seem the Inquisition and the Grey Wardens had more in commons than people might realize.

The Inquisitor was there for Thom when he needed it, he could do no less for the man who gave him a second chance. Some people needed to be reminded that Rajmael was a hero who gave up more than most could imagine to keep the world from falling apart. If Ranier could remind them in any way, he would.

In an attempt to pass the time and kill his boredom while he waited for the Inquisitor's arrival, Ranier decided to set up a few dummies in a corner of the garden and do a little target practice. He had seen Varric and Sera throw knives in the heat of combat like it was second nature, so he decided he might give a try. After the first five failures, he realized that knife-throwing was a lot more difficult than it looked. Mostly, he just kept hitting the target with the side or pommel of the knife, and even when he did manage to land the knife in the dummy, it was always off the target he threw at.

Thom decided to give it another try. He held the knife firmly in his hand, aimed it at that damned target on the dummy, and threw it hard. The knife veered way off target and took a bad bounce of the marble wall. Ranier ducked as the knife flew over his head.

The stray knife was caught in midair by the mailed hand of a stranger that Ranier didn't recognize. He was a tall figure with a mane of dark hair pulled back in a knot to hold his bangs. His black armor looked Fereldan, judging from the design. Most noticeable was the blue tattooing on the man's face.

"Well, I've got to admit, that was a terrible throw. You're more likely to harm yourself than your target." The stranger observed in a thick Fereldan brogue.

"Really? You think you could do better?" Ranier challenged.

The stranger flipped the knife in the air, caught it by the blade, then flicked it out of his hand with astounding speed and dexterity. The knife flew the air and landed right between the dummy's eyes. Ranier had to admit, that was damned impressive.

"You're throwing too much from the shoulder and not enough from the wrist. And you don't want to hold the blade too tightly, your grip should be more delicate to let it fly out of your hand." The stranger instructed.

"Well, you do seem to be more of an expert at this than I am. I'll remember that, thanks." Thom said graciously.

The stranger eyed Ranier like he was trying to recognize him from somewhere. "You...you're Thom Ranier, are you not? One of the Inquisitor's companions?"

"I am, ser. And I did have the honor of fighting by the Inquisitor's side." Thom confirmed.

"Ah, perfect. So many new faces here, I wanted to make sure that I wasn't mistaken. You see, I've actually been looking for you, and wanted to take a moment of your time, Thom Ranier." The stranger requested.

"Oh? How might I help you, Ser?"

"Would you look up there, please?" The stranger pointed his finger straight up.

Thom Ranier directed his eyes skyward, searching for whatever his new acquaintance was pointing at. All he could see was a blue sky. Then he felt what must have been a battering ram smash him square in the chest. The stranger planted his mailed fist straight into Ranier, sinking his knuckles a couple inches into his body. He struck his unwitting victim with such force he actually lifted Ranier's heavy frame into the air. Ranier fell to his knees, gasping for breath, trying to get air back into his lungs while at the same time trying not to puke his own guts out.

Not even letting Ranier have a second to recover, the stranger grabbed him by his hair, and forced him to look his attacker in the face, and Ranier was too hurt to fight back. There was a terrible anger in the stranger's eyes as they seemed to smolder like fire. And his teeth seemed sharper than normal, like a beast's.

"That, Thom Ranier, was for daring to take the name of Blackwall as a smokescreen to evade your crimes." The stranger growled hatefully. "A man who would kill an entire family then have the gall to falsely wear the mantle of the Grey is an insult to everyone who actually served in the Wardens. An it's insult I will not ignore. And after the shit you pulled, punching you is the least you deserve." The stranger turned his back on Ranier and proceeded to walk away. "Don't bother getting up. I'll just hurt you more. Or go ahead an ignore me, that'll be more fun."

The Fereldan assailant walked away, while Ranier remained on the ground trying to recover from his attack. Never, in all the years he spent on the battlefield, had he ever been hit like that. He didn't humans could hit that hard, which made him wonder how in the Maker's name was he still alive.

Still, by now, Ranier was used to people being mad and hitting him for the things did. He lost count how many times he had been hit by his former comrades after twelve. And the man did have a point, it was the least Ranier deserved. He just never expected to get hit that hard by anything that wasn't a giant. Which made Thom wonder one thing: Who or what in the Maker's name was that mean bastard?

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael sat back down at his table to enjoy a glass of wine before looking for more of his comrades. A glass of West Hill Brandy sounded perfect right now. Great taste, and enough liquor to get a decent buzz. Just as he began to savor his drink, he noticed something that was most unwelcome to him.

"And just what the hell do you want now? Did I not make it clear that I never wanted to see you again?" Rajmael asked angrily to the person standing behind him.

A certain elf sat herself across from Rajmael with a humble look on her face. It was the Red Jenny who once fought with the Inquisitor, Sera. The two of them had a massive falling out after the discovery of the Temple of Mythal when Sera blatantly insulted and mocked the elven people, and Rajmael made his disgust for Sera's immaturity, hypocrisy and racism very clear. After Corypheus' death, Rajmael was quite content to see Sera leave.

"Look, I know things went bad 'tween you an' me." Sera started off calmly.

"No, you made things bad between you and me, with your constant ridicule and disrespect towards my people, and your immature attitude." Rajmael reminded sternly.

"Yeah, then you slapped me, and made me look like a right arse in front of everyone in the Inquisition." Sera jabbed back bitterly.

"And I could have done worse with full justification. You and I both you've done worse to people for less." Rajmael countered, his voice starting to rise.

Sera sighed, trying to take a calming breath. "This isn't why I came here."

"Then what did you come here for? You and I were never friends."

"Look, what I said was wrong. Andraste's tits, I was being a total bitch. And I'm sorry, to you and your little girl." Sera finally confessed, swallowing her foolish pride. "I still don't believe in any of that elfy stuff, but I shouldn't acting like an arsehole to people who've been getting a raw deal forever, like a lot of pricks that came here."

Rajmael quirked an eyebrow in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. That it was actually Sera saying these words, and actually making sense. "Is that all? You come to me now to say something you should have said two years ago?"

"Look, I'm not really good with talkin' these kind a' words, 'kay? I was really mad at and thought you were being a prick, and I needed some time to actually think things out a little bit." Sera explained, remaining calmer than Rajmael had seen her. "I took a lot of time to think about the things you said to me, an' after a while, I started thinkin' maybe you were right. I was thinkin' too much about me, and not how the things I did could make things worse for other people. I coulda been doin' somethin' more with my Friends, tried harder to make the little people's lives better, and try to stop bein' such a arse to elves, even if I don't like elfy things."

"And? Doing things like what?" Rajmael asked, wanting to see if Sera actually meant what she said.

"Well, I got some Friends together. All of 'em were in the wrong place, or the wrong sort of whatever. So I got everyone together and made an 'us'. Now we're a real thing, not just a thing that the nobs forget when we nab their knickers. Red Jennies who can do a lot for a lot of people. Really make a difference, even if these nobs make the Inquisition go away." Sera explained with that Denerim lingo of hers. "And all that stuff I said about elves being stupid, well, that's why I'm talkin' to you."

Rajmael didn't know if he was already drunk from the brandy, or if what he was hearing was real. "Lots of people say lots of things that don't end up meaning anything. I believe you said something like that once, Sera. Words don't mean anything unless you put them into action."

"Well, I guess I'm just gonna have to prove it, 'cause I'm not gonna let you get away with thinkin' I'm just a total bitch no one should like. If ya need me for anythin' during this whole Exalted Council business, I'll be here." Sera offered.

That had to be the most mature thing Rajmael had ever heard Sera say. There was only one thing he could do at a moment like this. "Sera, wait. Would you like to have a drink, on me?"

A big grin spread across Sera's face, and happily sat back down at the Inquisitor's table. They were still far from being friends, but this was certainly a better start than when they first met.

~XoXoXo~

Vivienne held a glass of Champaign in her hand in the middle of the garden salon, surrounded by a following of admirers. Once again, the Imperial Enchanter found herself right where she belonged: the center of politics, wielding her influence, and at the forefront of Orlesian diplomacy. In the years since Vivienne left the Inquisition, she quickly set to work to rebuild the Circle of Magi, as apposed Divine Victoria's new, impractical policies concerning mage independence. Allowing Fiona and malcontents to practice magic with no oversight, despite being the ones who started the Mage-Templar War, was the first step to another magical conflict. In the Divine's naivety and shortsightedness, she failed to realize that she was setting a precedence for another Imperium here in the South.

Magic is dangerous, and mages, no matter how many are inherently good people, are a danger to everyone else. Just like the incident at Kirkwall with that lunatic Anders, it would only take a few irresponsible mages to destroy countless innocent lives and turn the entire world against mages. These were undisputed truths, and if the Divine wasn't going to address this issue as it should be, then Vivienne was determined to do it for her.

Thankfully, Vivienne still had many of the Loyalist Fraternity, mages who understood and appreciated their place in the world, under her leadership, and thanks to the political connections she made with her dearly departed Bastien, she had the influence to give them actual standing in politics. Soon, she would resurrect the Circle of Magi from the ashes of the Mage-Templar War that would rival Fiona's pitiful College of Enchanters, and it would exist outside the Divine's pitiful mandates. All Vivienne needed to do was sway more of the lords of the South to her cause.

"Ah, Madame Vivienne! How blessedly wonderful it is to know you are here." An Orlesian duke greeted. He was dressed in a fine snoufler-skin doublet with dyed blue and green to compliment his family mask, which was extravagantly adorned with sapphires and emeralds. In his right hand, he carried a horse-headed cane to support him, for he walked with a severe limp. He had suffered some terrible injuries many years ago after a confrontation with a Fereldan.

"Duke Girarde, how lovely to see you." Vivienne greeted graciously. The two of them became acquainted through her darling Bastien many years ago. Right now, the duke stood to be one of her greatest supporters, for they shared many strong views on the matter of magic. "Tell me, my dear, have given any thought on the matter we discussed at your wife's salon?"

"Oh, yes, of course. And I want you to know, you'll have my house's full support." Duke Girarde promised.

"Excellent! I believe you'll find you made the right decision. You will surely benefit from this in the future." Vivienne assured with a dazzling smile.

The duke hobbled over to the table and grabbed himself a drink, keeping all his weight on his cane. "After the last few years of utter insanity, how can I not? The Empress makes a rabbit marquis of the Dales, the Divine gives mages freedom with no supervision, it's madness!"

"Indeed. We live in days of many changes, and must remain the sensible ones if we're to guide our people through them." Vivienne agreed. "We cannot let the shortsighted foolishness of a few endanger the many."

"And your efforts these last two years have certainly solidified your faction's place in Court." Girarde complimented. "But remember, Madame Vivienne, what you have done is merely a start. With my house's assistance, you will be able to extend your influence throughout the rest of the South."

"I can assure you, my dear duke, that your house's assistance is well placed, and will be well rewarded."

"If there was any country that sorely needed the vision of someone like you, it would most certainly be Fereldan." Girarde took a large drink from his champaign glass as though to wash the taste out of his mouth for saying that country's name. "That uncultured, backwater excuse for a kingdom lacks any form of civility. We rule those putrid dog-lords for nearly a century, and you would think they'd learn a thing or two from us. Instead, they are content to remain a nation full of barbarians."

"Better a nation of barbarians, than an empire of inbred pansies." A grim voice behind them said disrespectfully with a thick Fereldan accent.

"How dare you?! Who do you think you are?!" Duke Girarde demanded as he leaned on his cane and turned to face the man who dared to have the gall to insult the empire right in his ear.

The duke's bravado vanished into thin air as he turned as pale as a corpse and his crippled legs almost gave out from beneath when he came face to face with the man. The man in question was a tall, imposing figure with dark hair in black Fereldan armor and blue tattoos on his face. His eyes were filled with a twisted sense of glee, reflected in that sinister, toothy grin of his.

"Aww, you don't remember me, Girarde? Well, I could never forget you. How're the legs doing?" The Fereldan asked, his sinister grin growing wider, showing off his oddly sharp-looking teeth. "Now, what was that you were saying about Ferelden? Maybe you and I should have another...conversation. Like we did back at the University."

Duke Girarde went as pale as a corpse and began shaking like a leaf where he stood. He trembled so hard he could barely hold his cane in his hand. His eyes were as wide as carriage wheels, filled with a terror Vivienne hadn't seen outside of a demon attack. The Orlesian duke was so gripped with fear, he actually wet himself right where he stood.

"I-I-I, augh, I-I'm s-sorry M-M-Madame V-Vivienne. M-my h-h-house c-ck-can't support you." Girarde stuttered frantically. He turned away and began hobbling towards the exit as fast as his crippled legs could get him, leaving a trail of urine behind him.

"It was good to see you again, Girarde. We should do this again some time!" The Fereldan mockingly called after the fleeing Orlesian noble.

Vivienne stood in utter astonishment and outrage. One of her most ardent supporters, whose backing and influence could have greatly aided her cause, just blatantly ran out on her like a scared child, wetting himself in public, to boot. And this uncouth, vile-mannered dog-lord ruined this opportunity for her. To say she was livid would be a colossal understatement.

"Do you have any idea what you've just done?" Vivienne demanded the Fereldan stranger angrily.

"I just said sent a grown man crying like a little girl and pissing himself in public, while simultaneously ruining whatever deal or machination you intended to have with him." The stranger answered sarcastically. "And it only took five minutes and a few sentences. And my mother didn't think I'd ever have a career in diplomacy."

Vivienne couldn't believe this man's blatantly disrespectful attitude. It was everything she could do to ignore the impulse to freeze the man where he stood and shatter him like glass. "Just who do you think you are?"

"I think...I've got better things to do with my time than waste my breath on some old Orlesian social climber." The man said answered rudely as he downed a drink.

"This might be too much for an ignoramus like you to see, but I am not actually Orlesian." Vivienne corrected condescendingly.

The stranger finished his drink then wiped his mouth on his mailed sleeve. "Maybe not by blood, by you are in your heart, which is even more disgusting. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got more important things to do than waste my time with a decrepit old mage."

The stranger rudely shoved his way past Vivienne and walked away, his back intentionally facing the enchanter. Vivienne wanted so badly to throw a spear of ice into the man's back, or at least blow one of his legs of to see him crawl on the ground, but she was above such inclinations. The man was trying to goad her into a fight, to make her look like an emotional fool and discredit her agenda in front of witnesses, she knew he was. Vivienne would not play this man's game. Still, she couldn't help but wonder who that vile Fereldan was.

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael came upon Thom Ranier, doubled over on his knees with a fist-shaped indention in his torso. Rajmael used his healing magic to undo any damage that might have been done to Ranier's internal organs. Apparently, some prick was still pretty angry about Thom's crimes, and decided to take the opportunity to throw him a cheap-shot. In an attempt to help Ranier get his mind off the incredible amount of pain he was in, the two of them talked about what he had been up to for the last two years. Rajmael was gladdened to hear that Ranier had been trying to make up for what he did to his men, to try to give hope to those who were downtrodden and desperate. In times like these people needed someone to give them hope, and Ranier's redemption could help bring that.

After his conversation with Ranier, Rajmael decided to finally seek out the most important person in this whole gathering. Most important as far as he was concerned, anyway. Cassandra, his Nevarran princess.

Rajmael made his way to the very edge of the garden, a quiet spot on top of the hill where it overlooked the entire Orlesian countryside, and that's where he found her. His vhenan. Unlike many other ladies, she wore no fancy gown or precious jewelry, which was typical of her. Instead, Cassandra wore the armor and tunic of the Lady Seeker, her new rank as head of her newly reestablished order, with the Eye of the Sun emblazoned on her chest and pauldrons.

The only thing different about Cassandra that Rajmael could see, was the tightly braided ponytail that extended down the middle of her back. Rajmael couldn't help but think of how cute it made her look. Cassandra hadn't seen him yet, and she had a very nervous look on her face as she unconsciously fiddled with her fingers. No doubt she was trying to plan out how to greet him in her mind, but couldn't think of a proper strategy, such was her way. Rajmael decided to surprise her a little.

The Inquisitor stealthily made his way around her and tapped the Seeker on her shoulder, making her turn around to see him. Cassandra, one of the most fearless and fearsome women he had ever met, nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of him.

"Ah! I-Inquisitor! You're here...good. It's...nice to see you again." Cassandra said nervously. She was trying to plan out their reunion in her head, but his sudden presence caught her off guard. She couldn't think of anything proper or romantic to say.

"After all this time apart, that's all you can say to me, Cassandra?" Rajmael asked, faking disappointment.

"Well...I was trying to think of something to say. I had written it down, but lost my notes along the...hmph!" Cassandra's explanation was cut short when Rajmael pulled her into a deep yet gentle kiss. Cassandra melted into the embrace, and held her lover close lest her legs give out. Even after all this time they've been together, Rajmael's kisses still made her knees weak and her heart race.

After being apart for so long, Rajmael didn't want to stop kissing Cassandra. Sadly, they both needed to breathe. He finally released his lover, and gently caressed her face, his eyes gazing at hers. "I've missed you so much, ma vhenan."

"And I you, my love." Cassandra sighed contentedly.

The two of them sat on a nearby bench to take a moment to reunite. Cassandra talked about what she had been doing since she had left to find more of the Seekers who survived Lord-Seeker Lucius' insanity. She managed to find a few who were in hiding and scattered to the winds. She had told them the truth, not only of Lucius' betrayal, but also of their Vigil, how they are temporarily rendered Tranquil to be given their abilities. Some felt betrayed and refused to return, while others accepted it, and chose to help Cassandra rebuild the Order. Cassandra was now the Lady Seeker of the Order, and was rebuilding the Seekers in the Hunterhorn Mountains. This time, every recruit would know the truth. No more secrets, no more lies. They would be devoted to the truth, as they always should have been.

As Cassandra spoke, she couldn't help but notice how worn out Rajmael looked. Like he hadn't slept in ages. That vibrant, colorful aura she had sensed from him when they first met had dimmed significantly. The years and stress as Inquisitor had taken an obvious toll on him, but he was trying so hard not to appear weak in front of others. He had done so much for so many, yet everyone never seemed to care what effect this life had on him.

"Enough about me, though. How have you been, Rajmael?" Cassandra asked with genuine concern. "I know being Inquisitor has never been easy on you, but you have done so much good for so many. How is your clan? How is Eva?"

An air of somber melancholy gripped the Inquisitor when he heard his adopted daughter's name. Of all the questions that could have been asked, that was the one Rajmael was most reluctant to answer. He had just seen Eva the day before, but it was not a happy reunion.

"Did something happen to her, Rajmael?" Cassandra inquired, sensing her lover's dourness. "Please You know you can tell me."

Rajmael looked in Cassandra's eyes and saw the concern she had for him. He still felt the sting of the words that were said with Eva, the guilt that he had been hiding now tore him up inside. But it was pointless to hide his feelings from Cassandra. He knew she loved him, and wanted to share in his burdens, as he did with hers. How could he keep this from her?

Rajmael took a deep breath and decided to tell her. "You know why I was late coming to the Exalted Council, yes?"

"Of course. You wanted to stop at the Temple of Mythal, to look in on your clan and all the elves that have made their pilgrimage their." Cassandra confirmed.

"Well...I went there to check on Eva. And I couldn't have predicted how horribly wrong it would go."

~Yesterday, At the Temple of Mythal~

Where the majestic Temple of Mythal was once lost from the sight and memory of the elves, a missing testament to the greatness and power of their people, it now stood as a beacon of hope and a reminder of what they could be. After the Inquisitor discovered it in the Arbor Wilds and protected it from Corypheus defiling hands, the knowledge of its discovery spread like wildfire across the world, an elven temple untouched by human hands, rich with the knowledge the elves had lost. Elves from all over Southern Thedas, Dalish and City elves alike, began to flock this sacred place to rediscover their lost heritage. And with this lost lore, they could take the first steps to rebuilding their broken people.

However, wonder and hope weren't the only things this temple inspired with its discovery. There were also many who wished to deny and admonish the temple's existence. Chantry members who refused to acknowledge the sanctity of this place, denouncing that anything that praise are to anyone but the Maker is heresy. Then there were those who outright refused to believe in any kind of elven greatness. Many of these condescending voices demanded the eradication of this temple for the sake of their petty prejudices.

Thankfully, these demands were quickly silenced. The Temple of Mythal was under the official protection of the Inquisition and the Marquis of the Dales, and supported by Divine Victoria, which stopped anyone from wanting to make any action against the temple or those who visited it. What's more, the Inquisitor adamantly refused any human entry to the Temple of Mythal, whether their intentions were benign or not. This was a place of elven knowledge, therefore only the elves should be allowed to learn its secrets and spread them as they saw fit.

Now, the temple was no longer an empty ruin, but a bustling site full of life. Elves from every walk of life were making prayers and talking amongst themselves as they studied and exchanged lore and knowledge with one another. Whole classes of elven children were learning from elders about their lore and history, while craftsmen, healers, and hunters were teaching their skills to apprentices. All the relics and treasures that the Inquisitor had gathered, even the ones he reclaimed from the Vir Banal'ras in Elgar'nan's Bastion, were being carefully studied and catalogued by the many Keepers and their Firsts who came here.

But most gratifying of all, was seeing all the young elven mages practicing their magic inside the temple's courtyards without fear of persecution. There were so many of them. The Dalish used to only be able to have only one or two mages in a clan, and would need to send any other mages away to another clan. Some clans would just discard the extra mage entirely. This practice was born out of necessity, for with only one Keeper, there could only be so many apprentices, lest they draw the attention of demons or Templars. But now that they had a place where they could train in magic in safety, without the fear of discovery, and with other elven mages to teach them, the Dalish no longer needed to perform such barbaric practices. It wasn't the empire they lost, but it was a good start.

It had been two years since Rajmael had first set foot in the Temple of Mythal. He didn't just learn of his people's past here, he witnessed it with his own eyes. He partook in a ritual that petitioned the favor of Mythal to gain entry to these walls. Spoke with the truest elvhen, the Sentinels, the immortal guardians from the time of Elvhenan. And not long after that, Rajmael met the vessel of Mythal herself. However, Rajmael was not here for any of that. He was here to visit his family and clan that had come here.

Rajmael found Eva at her and her grandmother's tent just outside the temple. Ariva was out teaching the other da'len the ways of the healer while Keeper Deshana was with the young mages. Rajmael could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw Eva. Two years apart, and she was growing so fast he almost didn't recognize her. Her hair was longer and held in knotted tail, and she was much taller than when he last saw her. Eva was the mirror image of her mother, Evanura, when she was that age.

Eva was sitting on a small chair, reading a book. She was so engaged with what she was reading she hadn't noticed her foster-father's presence.

"Aneth'ara, da'vhenan." Rajmael greeted with a happy smile.

Eva looked up from her book, but didn't rise from her seat. "Andaran'atishan, Rajmael."

There was no joy in Eva's voice, no look of greeting on her face like Rajmael was hoping to see. Instead, her voice was shaky, filled with apprehension. There was a frightened bewilderment in her eyes, like she had seen something so horrible, but couldn't believe it, like some kind of nightmare. Something was clearly wrong.

"Eva? What's wrong?" Rajmael asked deeply concerned.

"What's wrong? Why don't you tell me?" Eva all but demanded, her lips quivering, her on the verge of tears as she handed Rajmael the book she was reading.

Rajmael didn't understand. Was the contents of this book upsetting her? What could it possibly say? Rajmael opened the book and flipped through its pages, glancing at the words written inside.

Evanura, my darling, beloved Evanura,

It has been weeks now since the Templars and their damned Chantry took you from me...

Rajmael couldn't believe his eyes as he suddenly realized why Eva was so distressed. This was her father's journal. It recorded what Nethras did after the Templars attacked their tribe and killed Eva's mother. Now Rajmael understood the inner turmoil Eva was feeling.

"Eva, where di you find this?" Rajmael asked in utter shock.

"I don't think that is important." Eva returned vehemently. Her green eyes filled with confusion and anger. "What is the meaning of this, Rajmael?"

Rajmael took a deep breathe, trying to breath some courage into his lungs. He dreaded this moment more than any of the unholy creatures he had fought during his time as Inquisitor. There was no avoiding it now, and there wasn't a lie he could make that Eva would ever believe, even if he wanted to. Rajmael had to tell her the truth.

Rajmael told Eva everything. That her father survived his encounter with the Templars and was taken prisoner. How Nethras discovered the Bastion of Elgar'nan and revived the Vir Banal'ras. Nethras' plan to used the Elgar'nan Enansal at the Temple of Nehn'numinas to poison the humans of the South. How Rajmael killed her father with an ethereal blade, and buried him near Skyhold.

"Oh. Father..." Eva wept bitterly, tears of pain burning her face. Her eyes scowled angrily at Rajmael, full of hurt an betrayal. "How...how could you? For two years...two years you've been lying to me! You didn't think I had the right to know that my father was still alive? That is was you, not the Templars, that killed him?! What, were you too busy being the damned Inquisitor to tell me this little detail!? I deserved to know!"

Eva's words stung Rajmael worse than any weapon could, and wished there was something he could say to somehow assuage her anger and his own guilt. "Not a day goes by that I don't hate myself for what I did. Your father and I were as brothers, but I had no choice. My duty compelled me to act against him."

"Your duty? Is that all you think about? I haven't seen you are even heard a word from you in two years. Do you mean to tell me you care more about the stupid world than you do about me, our clan?!" Eva yelled, her voice cracking with anger. "You were one of us before you became a hero to the rest of the world, a hero that everyone wants to get rid of now. I loved you like my father, and you...lied to me. I thought I meant more to you than that..."

"Eva...I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you." Rajmael had no more excuses than that.

"Well...I guess that's just one more thing you failed to do." Eva said painfully with tears burning down her face. She turned her face away from him, unable to look him in the eyes. "I hate you, Rajmael...I HATE you!"

Rajmael felt like a white-hot blade stabbed his heart and twisted when he heard Eva say those words, but dared not go after her. For as much as he wished he could deny it, no matter his reasonings, he did betray Eva. Of all the injuries he had sustained in his difficult life, this one cut the deepest.

~XoXoXo~

"Oh, Rajmael. I'm so sorry." Cassandra said full of sorrow. Her heart truly felt for him, she knew Rajmael loved that child more than anything in the world, like she was his own daughter.

"The worst part is that is that she has every right to be angry with me." Rajmael admittedly regretfully. "I kept the truth from Eva because I was afraid of what she might think, what she would feel, even though she deserved to know the truth. I tried to tell myself that I would tell her when she was older, when I thought she was ready, but that was just an excuse. Now, I may have destroyed my relationship with her beyond repair."

Cassandra held Rajmael's hand in hers consolingly in an attempt to raise his spirit. "My love, I know it seems hard right now, but I know you two will move past this. I know what Eva is going through. When I was her age, after I lost my brother, I was angry at the whole world and I looked for any reason to take out my anger on anything. I eventually got over my anger, but I had no one in my life who truly cared for me. Eva has you, and I know how much you love her. I know that you two can get past this."

"I truly hope you're right, ma vhenan." Rajmael sighed. "I just don't know how in the world she even found Nethras' journal. How could it have just wound up in Eva's hands?"

"We moved all the relics and treasures the Vir Banal'ras had acquired. Perhaps that journal was amongst them?" Cassandra guessed.

"A mystery for another time, I suppose." Rajmael paused for a moment, trying to push the fallout with his adopted daughter out of his mind. As much as he didn't want to, he had to focus on the matter at hand. "Well, I suppose I've had my pity-party. Perhaps it's time to get back to addressing the reason why we're all here."

Rajmael rose from his seat, but Cassandra never let go of his hand.

"My love, I know the time you've had as Inquisitor has not been easy for you, and what comes next will be even harder. But no matter what happens next, no matter what decision you make, know that I will stand with you. You always have me."

Rajmael couldn't help but be touched by Cassandra's words. He was one of the only people who knew of Cassandra's hidden romantic side, and he was the only one she would share that side with. He held her hand to his face and basked in its warmth. "Of all the things that have happened to me as Inquisitor, you're the greatest, Cassandra."

Rajmael and Cassandra walked from the garden, and in hand, and Cassandra leaning on his shoulder. Some lords and ladies began whispering of scandal and impropriety at the sight of the Inquisitor with the Lady Seeker, or more profoundly, a Dalish elf with a Nevarran princess, but neither of them cared. Amongst all the turmoil and political machinations, the two of them had this brief moment together, like something out of one of Varric's cheesy novels. Walking hand in hand through the palace gardens, caring only for each other.

As they walked, there was one more memory that stirred in the back of Rajmael's mind.

~Yesterday, At the Temple of Mythal~

Rajmael stood in his Keeper's tent outside the Temple of Mythal. Deshana and his stepmother both stood inside with him, and they had both learned what happened between Rajmael and Eva.

"I am sorry what has happened between you and Eva, Rajmael. I know how painful this is for you, even if you're trying to keep it to yourself." Deshana may be blind, but even she could see how much this pained her former First.

"She is young, Rajmael, and has been through so much. Her heart is filled with conflicting emotions." Ariva consoled. Being a lifelong parent herself, she knew these things were a part of growing up, and Rajmael's childhood was not unlike Eva's. "Remember when you were her age? You had been through so much and were filled with so much anger, but you moved on."

"That's because I had you, Nethras and Junnarel." Rajmael recalled nostalgically. "I haven't been there for Eva, and now I'm not sure I ever can be."

"That is part of what we wanted to discuss with you, Rajmael." Deshanna revealed seriously. "From what we have heard, the human kingdoms are now calling for your Inquisition's disbandment, is that correct?"

"Ferelden is, yes. Orlais, on the other hand, wants the Inquisition to become legitimate by answering to imperial authority." Rajmael answered dourly.

"You mean to say they want you to be their serfs. Typical Orlesians." Ariva scoffed. "What do you intend to do, Rajmael?"

"I honestly do not know yet. Both sides have their valid points as well as their flaws." Rajmael answered unsure. "The Inquisition has done more in the last two years than the Chantry has done in two hundred, and our independence allows us to solve problems without being hindered by political baggage. However, we only declared the Inquisition to restore peace, not play nanny to the world."

"Then perhaps it would be best to just disband and let all your soldier go home to their families." Ariva suggested earnestly. "Do not repeat the same mistake the Chantry did by trying to regulate the world to a certain mandate."

"Are you saying that because you care about the welfare of the world, or because it's what you think I should do?" Rajmael inquired curiously.

"Rajmael, everything you have done as Inquisitor has made this world better, for our people especially. Never, in almost two thousand years, have our people known such respect." Deshanna said proudly. "Now our people need a leader, one that both the elves and humans will respect and listen to. We want you to become the Keeper of Clan Lavellan."

This revelation caught Rajmael completely off guard. It's what he had been trained for his whole life as First under Deshanna, but he never actually believed that day would come. He always thought of Deshanna as eternal, and never actually considered taking her place.

"Deshanna...you actually want to step down as Keeper? Clan Lavellan has never known another leader like you."

"I know, and it is precisely why it's time for me to step down." Deshanna answered wearily. "I'm old, Rajmael. Very old and very tired. I've guided four generations of our clan, and now we're entering a new era full of change. The clans need a leader who can help guide our people in this new era if we're to keep what we've gained."

"And what about Ariva? Wouldn't she be a better candidate for being the Keeper?" Rajmael asked.

"I most certainly could, my son, but Deshanna is right. The clans need a Keeper who both our people and the humans will listen to." Ariva concurred. "Your voice guarantee that our people are heard. You could finally come home, my son. Be the leader our people need. Be the father that Eva needs right now."

This was a fair argument. Rajmael never desired to be Inquisitor, and the years of this tiresome duty have taken their toll on him. He longed for the simplicity and familiarity of his old life. However, he owed it to the men and women who served under him, who died in service to him, to at least stand up for the Inquisition. He was never one to simply roll over for anybody.

"I shall...consider it, Keeper Deshanna." Rajmael granted. "I cannot make a decision until the Exalted Council begins."

Ariva stood up and walked over to her adopted child, and hugged him close, as if she were still afraid to lose him. "Please, come home, my son. Come home..."

The Winter Palace, Present Time...

Rajmael and Cassandra made their way over to the Palace Villa where the most important guests and members of the Exalted Council were housed. The Orlesian guests and delegates were busy sipping wine and bantering the latest scandals and gossip amongst themselves while taking bets on what would happen during the Exalted Council. The Fereldans mostly kept to themselves, remaining silent or speaking only when they needed to. Being in the heart of the empire that once enslaved their people had many of them on edge, and the Fereldans were experts at holding a grudge.

Everyone began chatting amongst themselves at the sight of the Inquisitor and Seeker Cassandra walking to the villa, but none approached them. If Rajmael had been walking by himself, they'd probably bend his pointed ears with meaningless conversation, but with Cassandra at his side, none dared to approach him.

As they made their to the upper floors of the villa, they heard the all too familiar, glib, confident voice of a certain Tevinter mage. Dorian, their old comrade and now Ambassador to the Imperium, was currently engaged in a conversation with none other than Duke Cyril de Montfort.

"Orlais is on your side, Lord Pavus." Duke Cyril insisted. "The Inquisition's support is not something to lose lightly."

"Which is why the Orlesian court wants to have it net and collared like a fancy trophy to put on display? Forgive me if I'm not totally convinced of the Orlesian court's altruism." Dorian rebutted, unconvinced. His eye caught a glimpse of his two companions and decided they were more worthy of his attention. "But I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me! I've some old friends to greet." Duke Cyril took the hint and left the Ambassador to greet his friends. "Inquisitor! Seeker Cassandra! How absolutely marvelous to see you two again. How long has it been? Don't tell me, I despise feeling old. Maker's breath, it's goof to see you both again."

"Dorian! I see you're making friends, as always." Rajmael jested.

"Oh, yes. I just love making nice with political sycophants. Reminds me of home." Dorian smiled sarcastically. "Orlais wants the Inquisition tamed, Ferelden wants it gone, and the Imperium sends one lowly ambassador. Whish is me, by the way. A 'reward for my interests in the South'."

"It would seem that your reward is our punishment, Pavus. It seems we'll never be rid of you." Cassandra jibed sarcastically.

"Ah, Seeker Cassandra. My, you two still look so adorable together, like something out of cheap romance novel." Dorian laughed. "If you two want sew any wild oats or let off any pent up steam before the Exalted March begins, there's this cozy spot behind the flower beds around the outer walls. No one would suspect anything."

"Ugh! Andraste's tears, Dorian! Have you no sense of decency?" Cassandra groaned.

"I'm afraid I left all sense of decency, propriety and shame back in Tevinter, Seeker." Dorian chuckled.

"I'm afraid to ask this, but how is it you know of this most private of places in the entire Winter Palace?" Rajmael asked apprehensively.

"Oh, now that is a tale. You see, Bull met this most charming Antivan elf, and he was the one who actually told us of that spot. So the three of us went over there and had ourselves an Exalted Council Meeting in private."

"Ugh! Really, Dorian!?" Cassandra groaned, looking like she might vomit.

"Yes! He even gave Bull an Orlesian Battering Ram!" Dorian laughed heartily.

"Guh! I'm sorry, but I must go now, Rajmael, before Dorian's deviancy makes me vomit. I will see be with Divine Victoria." Cassandra quickly made off, a queasy look on her face that made it look like she actually was going to vomit.

The two mages walked over to the balcony, and both took in a moment to survey the scenery and realize where they were now. Not all that long ago, neither one of them would be have been welcomed with open arms are treated with the utmost respect, quite the opposite in fact. Rajmael was a heathen Dalish mage, and Dorian a mage noble from the Imperium. Life had certainly taken them in places they never expected to be.

"I'm glad I was able to come here. I fear this may be the last time we see each other again." Dorian said with his voice full of depression. "When the Exalted Council is ended, I'll be returning to Tevinter...for good, this time."

"What are you talking about, Dorian? Is something wrong?" Rajmael asked, rather surprised. Dorian always hid his feelings behind his witty personality. For him to be acting like this must have been dreadfully serious.

"It's my father. He's dead. Assassinated, I believe." Dorian answered sorrowfully. "I just received word this morning: a sickeningly cheerful letter congratulating me on assuming his seat in the Magisterium and my rise to lordship of House Pavus. We only met a few times when I was home. I honestly had no idea he had kept me as his heir. My rank as ambassador, it was his doing I'm told. His last attempt to keep me away once the trouble started. I must go back."

Rajmael remembered Magister Halward Pavus, and the issue father and son had with one another. Halward had difficulty accepting his son's sexual orientation, but came to Ferelden to ask his son's forgiveness. Rajmael did what he could to assist. "I know things between you and your father were difficult, Dorian, but I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Inquisitor. It still doesn't feel real." Dorian said sadly.

"What will happen between you and Bull if you go back to Tevinter?"

Dorian sighed deeply. "He wants to come with me. I'm truly sad to say that a qunari simply cannot walk around the Imperium, even in the company of a magister. He doesn't want to hurt me, I don't want to hurt him. We're working it out as best we can."

"So what will you do when you get back to Tevinter? When you're officially a magister?"

"Oh, now that's where things are going to get interesting, because I can't wait to degrade and embarrass the Magesterium with my charming antics!" Dorian smiled. "I'll need an entirely new wardrobe!"

"And after that?"

"I find my father's killers and grant them the same courtesy. Then I find all the sorry bastards who are ruining my country's name, and do the same thing to them. They're probably the same people, so I'll almost literally be killing two birds with one stone."

Rajmael couldn't tell if Dorian was joking or being serious. "I doubt that's as quick and easy as you make it out to be. You might consider making some friends to help you out."

"Oh, now that's where it's really going to get fun." Dorian chuckled. "I got into contact with my old friend Maeveris Tilani, and she's gathered other Magisters who feel as we do. I'll teach them manners, take them shopping. What fun! We're calling ourselves the Lurceni."

"Well, Dorian, I wish you the best of luck in all of your endeavors." Rajmael bid sincerely.

"If you could give me whatever luck you had being the Inquisitor, I'd certainly put it to good use. Magisters are slippery bastards. Oh, and before I forget..." Dorian reached into his pouch and handed Rajmael a strange foreign locket with a blue crystal set inside it that seemed to be vibrating on its own will. "A small going away present. It's a sending-crystal, very useful for communicating across great distances, and very rare. If I ever get in over my head, or you being to go mad from the lack of my charming presence, this crystal will allow us to communicate. What? You think just because I'm leaving, you'd never see me again? That would be too cruel."

Rajmael couldn't help but smile at this gesture. There was no denying that he would actually miss the Tevinter pariah. "Thanks you, Dorian. I'll treasure this."

Dorian smiled, and looked like he might even start to weep. "No, thank you, Inquisitor. For everything you've shown me. You're my role model, you know? You've shown me that it's possible to change the world for the better, and that's exactly what I intend to do for my homeland. I couldn't ask for a better friend or shinning example to follow. Now, let's go, before they drink all the good wine."

~XoXoXo~

The Exalted Council was going to start soon. Rajmael decided to meet with the last of his comrades before the main event began. He made his way over to the Chantry delegation where the various Chantry Mothers and Grand-Clerics where debating amongst themselves and praying for the Divine's wisdom in these proceedings, and the Divine's guards stood silently in the closed helms with the Chantry Sunburst emblazoned on their chests. Rajmael couldn't sense any Templars amongst them; either these were newly appointed guards, or these were Templars who followed Cullen's example and no longer relied on lyrium.

The Chantry's delegation certainly stood out. After all, it certainly wouldn't do for the heart of human faith to blend in with the crowd. They were surrounded by the Sunburst banner, and Chantry mother's giving out blessings, hearing confessions and making prayers. One thing that struck Rajmael as odd was seeing someone in Chantry robes handling a litter of nugs, and handing some of them to certain delegates. Leliana had taken up nug breeding as a hobby, and must have gotten a new litter.

Rajmael saw Divine Victoria, his former spymaster, whom he had shared deep secrets and terrible arguments with. Despite their differences in the past, the two of them still managed to get along and work well together. Then Leliana's coronation came and she had to leave the Inquisition to lead the Chantry. Rajmael was beyond surprised about the reformations Divine Victoria made, not just the ones concerning the mages, but the reparations she made towards his people. Never in the history of the Chantry had their been a Divine who was so giving and respectful towards the elves.

These changes made Leliana many enemies, people who didn't want to see these changes, either out fear of racism, or because it conflicted with age-old beliefs. Some believed Victoria was too young and naïve to be leading, while others felt she was playing favorites over the majority of the faithful. So far, the Divine was able to handle them diplomatically, but Rajmael wondered how long it would be until someone actually decided to make a move against her. As the Inquisition's former Spymaster, Rajmael knew she could probably end a conflict before it began, so he wasn't too worried about her.

At the moment, Leliana was engaged in a conversation with Arl Teagan, the Lord of Redcliffe and the representative of Ferelden on the Exalted Council.

"Divine Victoria, Arl Teagan, I hope I'm not interrupting." Rajmael addressed.

"Of course not, Inquisitor." Leliana assured politely. "I was merely catching up with Arl Teagan. It has been a few years since we last saw each other."

"Inquisitor. Good to finally make your acquaintance." Arl Teagan said with respect.

"How is Redcliffe doing these days?" Rajmael asked.

"Blessedly quiet. The mayor sends his greetings. The people of Redcliffe remember the man who saved them during the Breach Crisis." Teagan said honestly. "My nephew Connor also send his regards from the College of Enchanters."

"If it's not too much to ask, I was hoping to take a moment of the Divine's time." Rajmael requested.

"Perfectly alright, Inquisitor. We shall speak again later, Your Perfection." Teagan obliged.

"I just wish we could meet under happier circumstances. Many people are frightened by the Inquisition's power, but I will do all I can to allay their fears. Sadly, as Divine, I must also do my best to remain impartial and render fair judgment to everyone."

"Any advice you can give me before this Council starts?" Rajmael asked.

"Represent the Inquisition as best as you can, remind people of your accomplishments, and let them know you are not a tyrant to be feared." The Divine answered sincerely. "I may no longer be your spymaster, but I will always be there if you need me." Leliana walked over back to her delegation to greet her other friends who were waiting for her. Leaving Rajmael alone with the Arl.

"I'm glad you've finally arrived, Inquisitor. King Alistair is anxious for news concerning this matter." Arl Teagan stated.

"And what is your stance on this matter?"

"The Breach is closed, Corypheus is dead, yet Skyhold's army remains. Ferelden can no longer ignore foreign soldier on its borders." Teagan answered staunchly.

"Well, at least you're honest about it. Glad there are actually politicians who speak plainly."

"You are owed that, Inquisitor, especially after all that you've done." Teagan assured. "These Orlesians will speak empty platitudes and false courtesies while trying to reign a noose around your neck. I shall not keep you longer. We will exchange plenty of words when the Exalted Council begins."

~XoXoXo~

Instead of giving sermons or making prayers, like some would expect the Divine to, she was instead talking and laughing with her friends. Leliana was overjoyed to see her old companions and coworkers again.

"Oh, Josie, it's so wonderful to see you again!" Leliana laughed as she hugged her friend close.

"It has been too long, Your Perfection." Josephine said happily.

"Please, Josie, there's no need for formalities between friends." The Divine insisted. "Oh! We simply must shop at the Avenue of Flowers before we leave. There are these most beautiful shoes on display, and I would love for us to buy a pair for us to remember."

"I shall place it high on my schedule." Josephine promised, jotting it down on her clipboard. "Perhaps we could see an opera while we're at it."

"Cullen, how is your family?" Leliana asked.

"I'm an uncle now, my brother Branson had a son. My sister Mia is now teaching him to beat me at chess." Cullen said proudly.

"I'll be sure to send her a few strategies. I know you weaknesses now, Commander." Leliana joked.

"Come, now. Teaching a toddler how to cheat is hardly befitting the Divine, Most Holy." Cullen remarked.

Cassandra lowered her head to the Divine respectfully. "It is good to see you again, Most Holy."

"Come now, Cassandra. We've been through so much together, there is no need for formality between us." The Divine insisted.

"Well, it's good to see us all together again after so long. Perhaps not the most ideal of circumstances, but at least there's no giant hole in the sky." Rajmael greeted, genuinely happy at this little reunion of theirs.

"Take your blessings where you can, Inquisitor. There's always a silver lining." Leliana greeted happily. "And speaking of reunions, there's an old, very good friend of mine I would like you to finally meet. Wait here a moment." Leliana walked away from them over to the Fereldan delegation.

For a moment, Rajmael was worried she might be bringing back Arl Teagan. Instead, she brought back someone else entirely. A tall, powerfully built man with a mane of dark hair held back in a knot. He wore black Fereldan-style armor with hound motifs engraved on it. Most distinguishing of all were the blue tattoos on his face. While Leliana was smiling brightly, everyone else stood in utter shock and awe at the man's presence. Rajmael recognized the man immediately.

"Holy shit. Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden." Rajmael said with his jaw almost hitting the floor. Rajmael could scarcely believe his own eyes, seeing this man standing before. Only this was no spirit posing as the Hero, nor was it some alternate version of him from a distorted timeline. This was the genuine article, in the flesh and blood. The real Aedan Cousland.

"Imagine my surprise when I learned Aedan was coming here." Leliana said cheerfully. "I've been so busy with my duties as Divine I hadn't even realized that you had returned!"

"Imagine our surprise seeing him now." Cassandra commented, her face just as blank and shocked as the others.

There was a brief moment of absolute silence, like everything in the world was put on hiatus as all of them stared at who was probably the most famous of all living legends standing before them. How could they not take a moment to fully come to terms with such an event?

"Are any of you going to say something, or just continue to stand there with a stupid look on your collective faces?" Aedan asked, quirking his eyebrow at their shocked expressions.

Josephine quickly tried to regain her composure, embarrassed by her own manners. "Oh, do please forgive our rudeness, Lord Cousland. It's just that we never expected such a...distinguished figure to be attending these matters."

"It's General Cousland, actually. And if I'm a distinguished figure here, then what does that make Divine Victoria?" Aedan grinned at his old companion. "You look familiar Ambassador. Is it possible we have met?"

"I do not see how that's possible, Lord-General Cousland. I have spent little time in Ferelden, I'm afraid." Josephine answered, rather flustered.

"No, I'm sure of it. Did you attend the University of Val Royeaux?" Aedan inquired.

"Yes! I began attendance there back in, oh, what was it? 9:27, I think." Josephine recalled.

"Aw, yes, that's it. You were in Professor Kantrell's class of Culture and Politics of Thedas, if I remember correctly." Aedan stated, the memory coming back to him. "You would have arrived just as I was being expelled from the University."

"I recall someone being expelled from the University that your for a rather, ahem, violent act, but I never would have guessed it was you." Josephine realized. "Tell me, General, what were you studying at the University? Were you there to study war with the Chevaliers?"

"Ha! As if those cheese-mongering horse-humpers could teach me anything about war!" Aedan laughed. "No, no. Believe it or not, I was actually there to study art."

"We've met before as well, General Cousland. Twice in fact." Cullen stated respectfully.

"Really? I don't recall." Aedan said with honest indifference.

"I was the Templar that was imprisoned by Uldred in Kinloch Hold?" Cullen reminded, but Aedan's face was still drawing a blank. "We met again when in Kirkwall when you went there to bring our countrymen home? You were going to split my skull in half when you attacked the Gallows? None of that rings a bell?"

"All Templars look the same to me, and mean even less to me. You'll have to forgive me if I never cared to remember you." Aedan stated blithely.

"Aedan, please. You promised me that you'd show some civility before the Exalted Council begins." Leliana reminded. The last thing she wanted was bad feelings between those she considered her friends.

Aedan rolled his eyes in slight annoyance. Then his eyes caught hold of the very reason this Exalted Council was gathered. The reason why he was here, in an empire he hated, instead of back in his own country. The Inquisitor.

"So...this is Inquisitor Lavellan." Aedan observed as if he sizing the elf up like a lamb for the slaughter as he walked up to him. "The great hero who sealed the Breach and has the gall to keep an armed presence in Ferelden. The so-called Herald of Andraste."

Rajmael readied himself for anything. Aedan Cousland's anger was legendary, and so was his hatred for anything that might threaten his country, and especially anything to do with Andraste or the Maker. And he always dealt with the things he hated with violence. At best, Rajmael was expecting to hear some vulgar insults and death threats, and at worst, he was expecting the Hero to try and knock his head off. What happened next caught, Rajmael could never have anticipated and caught him completely off guard. Everyone was shocked senseless, even Everyone was shocked Leliana could scarcely believe her eyes.

Aedan Cousland, the most defiant and violent of all Ferelden's warlords, who spat on an authority other than his king's, bowed to the Inquisitor in deepest respect.

"I am honored to finally meet you, Lord Inquisitor." Aedan spoke with the utmost respect.

Rajmael returned the gesture, and bowed to the Fereldan warrior. "The honor is mine, General Cousland."

"Thank you for what you did for my country. And my son." Aedan said with deepest gratitude, rising from his bow.

"You are welcome."

Everyone stood in utter silence, unable to believe their eyes. Even the Breach was less of a shock than this. As they all stood there, trying to come to terms with what just happened, a certain Antivan elf walked up to them, accompanied by several other people. Another elf, a human and a dwarf. The elf was a young woman with auburn hair in light leather armor with a well-crafted bow on her back. The human was a young man, just a little older than the elf, and had a green elven-styled blade hanging from his hip. The dwarven lad was by far the youngest of them. He hadn't even grown a beard yet, but was old enough to carry a sword and shield.

"Ah, Leliana my dear, did I, uh, did I miss something here?' The elf asked, wondering why everyone looked so bewildered.

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you, Zeveran." Leliana answered, still in shock.

"Ah. Zevran. Where've you been?" Aedan asked his Antivan comrade. "You just disappeared."

Zevran smiled lecherously. "You remember that musclebound Qunari you beat at arm-wrestling? Well, I caught up with him and that charming ambassador from Tevinter, and the three of us found this rather cozy spot behind the flower bed and we..."

"Ugh! Please, stop! Just stop!" Aedan shouted at the Antivan assassin. "I have enough psychological issues as it is without having to know what deviancy you do when people aren't looking."

"Oh, yes, you are correct, my friend, and for me to such things in such lovely company is appalling." Zevran languished sarcastically. "O Most Holy, would you here my confessions and absolve my worldly sins? There are just so many things I have done, perhaps it would be best to hear them in private. Away from everyone else. Just you and me?"

"Just who do you think you're talking to, Antivan?!" Cassandra asked, outraged at the elf's audacity. "This is the Divine not some tavern girl you can blatantly flirt with!"

"It's alright, Cassandra." Leliana laughed. "I actually find it refreshing that there are those who would still look at me that way, instead of only seeing this miter I'm wearing. Just it's never going to happen, Zevran."

"Oh. Just seeing you those robes of purity, far beyond the reach of common women, never able to have you...it just makes me want you even more." Zevran continued flirtatiously.

"What's an Antivan Crow doing here in the first place?" Cullen asked curiously.

"Why, by the invitation of my dear friend Aedan, of course." Zevran answered gregariously. "Such a grand party with so many lovely people, how could he not invite one of his oldest friends?"

"And the fact that I don't trust Orlesians, their agenda, and the fact that they are always trying to assassinate anyone who opposes them by bard or by poison, was another reason." Aedan stated factually. "Having a former Antivan Crow as a friend certainly has its benefits."

"It's true. I told all those years ago that I would be wonderful at parties." Zevran reminded, fondly remembering the good old days.

"And who are these others that you have brought with you?" Leliana asked curiously, looking at the others Aedan brought with him.

"They're with me." Aedan stated. "My former squires. This is Beven, Arl Teagan's brother-in-law, now serving as his bodyguard and knight of Redcliffe."

"It's a t-tremendous honor to meet you. Both of you, Lord Inquisitor, Most Holy." Beven stuttered, trying to keep his cool in front of such exalted figures.

"This is Amethyne, knight in service to Bann Shianni of the Denerim Alienage."

"Really? I've...never met an elven knight before." Rajmael said with a curious eyebrow raised.

"Well, I've never met an elven Inquisitor before. I guess our people really are starting to move up in the world." Amethyne smiled proudly.

"And this is Aedan Kondrat, my current squire." Aedan introduced the final one.

"Oh, my! You're Oghren's son? Oh, but you're adorable!" Leliana stated giddily, and couldn't resist the urge to pinch his cheek, making his comrades laugh beneath their breaths.

"Oh, thanks. I'm so glad I came here now, and that my father's not here to witness this momentous occasion." The dwarven Aedan said embarrassed.

"I'm glad you papa's not here, too. There'd be no alcohol left for anyone else." Zevran commented.

"When last I heard of you, General Cousland, I heard that you were seeking a cure for the Blight." Rajmael recalled. This was the very reason why he wasn't present during the War of The Elder One. During that time, they could have really used someone like Aedan. "Did you...find what you sought?"

"Yes, I did." Aedan said solemnly.

"Really? How did you do it?" Josephine asked curiously.

"I'm afraid that information is privileged." Aedan answered evasively. "No offense, but I do not really know any of you, and, while I may no longer be a Warden, I still respect their duty and their secrets."

"Perhaps you might answer me this, General: What is your stance on the Exalted Council?" Rajmael asked, deeply curious and somewhat worried about this inquiry.

"I'll be honest with you, Inquisitor." Aedan stated seriously. "I have the utmost respect for you and what you have accomplished. I think you're a great leader and a shining example for your people. I owe you a tremendous debt for what you did for my family. However, when we get into the Council Chamber, I'm going to fucking crucify you in front of all those people."

Rajmael was afraid the Hero might say something like that, and had no doubt he was going to follow through it. "Well, now I'm glad I asked."

"It's nothing personal, Inquisitor, it really isn't. I am merely doing what I think is best for my country." Aedan explained honestly. "Your military, your resources, they owe no allegiance to any nation, and they are completely devoted to the cause of the Inquisition and to its leader. You of all people, as elf, should understand my concern when a powerful institution wields so much unbound authority."

Rajmael did understand what Aedan was getting at. After all, it was the same scenario with the Chantry when they called an Exalted March on the Dales.

"If I might also give my own advice on this matter, Inquisitor." Aedan suggested. "I am led to believe that you have a family as well. Go back to them. You have done great things for your people, and I have no doubt your loyalty to them is beyond reproach. Go back to them, lead them, and leave this Inquisition behind."

"And what about the rest of the world?" Rajmael asked.

"Fuck the rest of the world." Aedan rebutted sternly. "You think I joined the Wardens because I cared about Orlais, the Free Marches? No. I only joined to protect my homeland. The rest of the world can burn, for all I care. What has this world ever done for you and your people to deserve your undying loyalty? Go back to your people and your family, and be the leader they need. Thedas never appreciates its heroes for long."

Aedan nodded his head respectfully to the Inquisitor and left with the rest of his comrades. As soon as he was gone, the Divine walked up to the Inquisitor earnestly.

"Would you walk with me?" Leliana beckoned.

Rajmael obliged her and the two walked towards the grand entrance of the Winter Palace. Leliana gazed at the marvelous architecture of the Palace. Not in awe, but more like remembering.

"When I first came to the Winter Palace, I were just eighteen." Leliana remembered with a small smile on her face. "I was mesmerized by it all! The rich hangings. Pillars of splendid marble. More golden lions than I could count. It's all still here, but I no longer see that same palace of my youth."

"All things change, and nothing is ever as beautiful or flawless as we want it to be. I've learned that the hard way." Rajmael agreed, remembering how his own long held beliefs had been shaken.

"You're correct, Inquisitor. Now all I see is hands rubbed raw to make gold gleam, tears shed in the night of silk embroidery." Leliana said lamentingly. "Others overlook them and forget their pain, but I am Divine, and I cannot be blind." Leliana looked over to the delegations that had come to oppose them. "Aedan was right, you know. The world never appreciates its heroes for long, and there will always be those who fear them. But nothing worse than the hand that guides it all."

"Mine." Rajmael confirmed, looking at his hand that bore the Anchor

"Yes." Leliana acknowledged. "Already your actions have begun to reshape the world. And many people fear such change if it happens so quickly and so much. It was only a matter time before they moved. I'm surprised that it took them this long."

"For Ferelden and Orlais to find something they distrust more than each other, that's a feat all on its own." Rajmael chuckled.

"It is something that cannot be overlooked, and perhaps they are right. Perhaps the Inquisition's time is coming to end." Leliana finally said.

"Is that the mandate of Divine Victoria I? That the Inquisition should be disbanded?"

"Pragmatic advice from your friend and former Spymaster." Leliana assured. "As Divine, it is my duty to think of Thedas, and all her peoples. We set out to restore peace, and now peace is upon us. While I wouldn't have said it the same way as Aedan did, he did have a point. You have done so much for this world already; you became the leader and hero we needed, even though you never wanted to be, and you have every right to want to resign and go home, if that's what you wish. Or even spend more time with Cassandra, I know how much she misses you. You've more than earned the right to a peaceful life."

Rajmael didn't know whether or not Leliana still had agents watching him, or if she just knew him that well. It seemed like everyone was giving him the same advice, and for once, he was inclined to listen.

"After everything I've been through, all the horror and hardship I've seen, the blood I've spilt...I think I'm done. I am ready to finally go home." Rajmael said with deepest desire. "However, I also owe it to the men and women who serve under me, who have died under my command, to fight for the Inquisition they gave their lives for, that they believed in. I won't just roll over and tuck my tail because human lords demand that I do. That is not who I am."

"I would expect nothing less of you, Inquisitor." Leliana smiled proudly. "Know that I will be honored to stand by you, no matter which decision you make."

"Well, then, Divine Victoria, let's not keep the people waiting any longer. I'm sure they're eager to finally get this party started. Shall we oblige them?"

"Lead the way, Lord Inquisitor."

Author's Note:

Alright, so here it is! The final arc in the Rajmael of Clan Lavellan story.

This will probably be the longest arc I've ever done. So expect the unexpected and some more cameo appearances.

I will try to post more chapters every few weeks, instead of a couple of months apart.

I've been planning this arc out for months, so I am going to bring all my abilities to bear on this one.

Please read, review and enjoy.