Thank you all for reading! Special thanks to suilven for her superior betaing skills and friendship.
Alistair found himself next to Blackwall at lunch the next day, standing in line to be served. He tried to avoid the false Warden as much as possible; he could understand the deception, but when so many true Wardens had died, it was hard to see this one who had pretended to be and wasn't. Nathaniel Howe felt it even more strongly than he did, since so many of the dead Wardens had been his close friends and Vigil's Keep family, but Nathaniel was rarely seen in public, so he ran very little risk of encountering Blackwall unless he wanted to.
The King who was once a Warden and the Warden who wasn't stood next to each other in silence as the line moved forward. Some kind of pork, Alistair thought, sniffing the air appreciatively. And apples. Skyhold certainly beat the Void out of having to skin and kill whatever they could find along the road and then boiling it in that confounded kettle.
Blackwall cleared his throat. "I understand that Corypheus is able to possess Grey Wardens."
Alistair glanced at him sharply. "He is." It wasn't something he would have chosen to discuss in the middle of the main hall at lunchtime, however.
"Huh." Blackwall considered that for a moment. "For the first time, I'm glad I'm not one."
"Only because you haven't turned yourself in yet," Alistair reminded him.
"The Inquisitor asked me to remain and lend my blade to the cause."
It had been Leliana, not the Inquisitor, but Alistair didn't see the point in quibbling. "Yes, well, it's probably for the best. I'd hate to have to face off against you in battle."
He hadn't meant it as a compliment, certain that he could take the other man, even now, but Blackwall nodded as though it had been one. "Going up against a darkspawn, and the last thing you want is a Grey Warden. Funny how these things happen."
"Yes. So funny." Alistair was relieved that it was his turn to have his plate piled high with pork and fried apples and potatoes and onions. He nodded at the server for a little bit more, and her eyes widened. Clearly no one had briefed her about Grey Warden appetites.
The Iron Bull was sitting with Lilias and Merrill and a few of his Chargers. Alistair carried his plate over.
Lilias looked up, meeting his eyes, and she blushed, which he loved to see. They hadn't talked since his declaration of love yesterday, not seriously, and so he didn't know where that would lead, but she was happy to see him, sliding down the bench to make room, and for the moment just sitting near her was enough, feeling her knee nudge his beneath the table.
"So to kill Corypheus, all we have to do is kill his dragon," the Iron Bull was saying.
"Wait, what?" This was news to Alistair.
"Oh, yeah, that apostate, the one with the …" The Qunari glanced at Merrill and cleared his throat. "Uh, the one with the black hair. She said as much."
How did people find out these things? Alistair was constantly amazed at the way rumors flew around here.
"I don't see how that gets us anywhere, Chief," said Krem, the Iron Bull's lieutenant.
"Don't you? It's a dragon. The Inquisitor and I have killed five together. We're good at killing shit." He gestured with his fork across the table at Hawke and Merrill and Alistair. "The king here took down an Archdemon, and Hawke and her team killed a dragon in Kirkwall. Varric told me all about it."
Lilias shook her head. "You don't want to believe everything Varric says."
"Oh, I don't … but the bones of the story were true. I have an ear for these things." The Iron Bull's single eye rested on Lilias with interest, and Alistair inched slightly closer to her. Big and smart and exotic, the Iron Bull's path through the willing partners available in Skyhold was legendary.
The Iron Bull caught Alistair's movement and grinned widely, enjoying the display of jealousy he had provoked.
"Yeah, just one more big fight to put this asshole down for good." The Qunari nodded, spearing a chunk of pork. "I knew we'd get here."
"And the Chargers are going to be right there to help," Krem agreed.
The Inquisitor happened to be passing by just then, and he clapped Krem on the shoulder. "I wouldn't want to do it without you, that's for sure."
"There we go. The Chargers and the Inquisition, kicking Corypheus's ass!" The Iron Bull's voice was loud, carrying across the tables, heads turning to hear him. He winked at the Inquisitor, who chuckled in response. Alistair wondered if the whole conversation, at the Qunari's trademark volume, had been cooked up between them to help build morale.
It was hard to concentrate too fully, though, with Lilias's hand finding his under the table, her callused and dexterous fingers interlacing with his. Hungry as he had been and still was, he suddenly wished the meal was over and he could get her alone. Looking up, he met her eyes and saw an answering eagerness there, and they both put their heads down and worked steadily through their food, to the obvious amusement of the Iron Bull and the Chargers, and the total oblivion of Merrill, who was clearly quite distracted, vacillating between a dreamy abstraction and a fidgety nervousness anytime the door behind them that led to Solas's atrium opened.
Leliana sat in Josephine's office, sipping fragrant tea. She thought about the days on the road with Leyden, when often all they had was water straight from a stream, and sometimes not even that, and now here she was back in the world where drinking a beverage was as much social, as much part of the Game, as it was about health or happiness. At least here she didn't have to pretend—Josephine knew her as well as she was comfortable with anyone knowing her.
Josephine sighed, her own cup of tea untouched. "When will he come, do you think?"
"It's hard to say." Morrigan would have a speculation, but Leliana had no intention of giving the other woman the satisfaction of asking.
"I hope it comes swiftly. Waiting is …" She shook her head. "I wish it was over."
"Have you heard from your prospective suitor?"
"Not recently. I wish he would come before—no, I wish he would wait until after—no, I wish he wouldn't come at all. Oh, I do not know what I wish!"
Leliana smiled. "He will find you receptive, then."
Her friend's blush spoke more truth than her vehement denials. "There are more important things to think of. Our Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, is soon to be challenged by a darkspawn who thinks himself a god. If—when—he defeats Corypheus, he will be more than a holy man. He will be a legend. And the Inquisition with him. We must prepare."
"What a long view you take, Josie. And how depressing to enter the realms of legend."
"You talk as if you had not already done so. Sister Leliana, the companion of the Hero of Ferelden, Sister Nightingale, the Left Hand of the Divine …" Josephine leaned forward. "Tell me, my friend. Will you become the Divine?"
"I …" She had been so cagey about this, not wanting to admit it to anyone. "I want to. Yes. I want to very much." Where that would leave things with Nathaniel, she didn't know … but she didn't know where things with Nathaniel would, or could, go, anyway, so it hardly changed the situation.
Josephine smiled. "You don't have to tell me. I know you well, remember."
"It feels as though I shouldn't admit to it—but do I not have every right to consider the options? Vivienne is—impossible, and I cannot imagine the Inquisitor bringing himself to recommend Cassandra …"
"And who is left? Still … be very careful, my friend."
"Oh, Josie. I always am."
"I know. I just—do not want you to become complacent."
Looking down into the steaming teacup, Leliana understood exactly what her friend was trying to say, and it was a timely warning. It did not do to let one's guard down.
After a tete-a-tete with Alistair that was satisfying in many ways, Lilias took a walk across the courtyard, needing fresh air and time away from him to think, before she got too carried away. Being in love was wonderful, but … could she trust it? Could she trust him? And if she did, where could they go? He was still the King of Ferelden, and she was still the disgraced Champion of Kirkwall, a jumped-up apostate's daughter.
She found herself in the library, approaching Dorian's corner, finding him curled in a chair looking off into space appearing as though he felt much as she did.
"Oh, it's you. Tell me, how are you?" he stirred himself to ask.
"Confused. You?"
"Much the same. The Temple … what you and Merrill told me about it … It has me thinking." He sighed. "I should go home, back to Tevinter."
"Now?" she asked, alarmed.
"After we defeat Corypheus. Assuming we do. Assuming I survive." He shook his head, getting to his feet and looking discontentedly out the window. "I complain and complain about how wrong things are back home, but what have I done about it? Nothing."
"I understand. I fled Kirkwall rather than stay and try to rebuild. It … well, it wasn't my home, but it could have been. My mother wanted it to be, and instead I ran."
"Yes. As did I."
"I'm not sure how that relates to the elven temple, though."
Dorian raised his eyebrows as though he thought it should be obvious. "You encountered ancient elves. A piece of history that the Imperium didn't destroy. It makes me think that there might be something left in my country that is still good, still worth fighting for." He looked down at Lilias. "Is that what you want, to find something worth saving in Kirkwall?"
"I just … want to know what to fight, and how, and where, and why."
Tipping his head back, Dorian laughed. "All the great questions of life, in fact."
"I suppose they are, aren't they. Do I owe it to Kirkwall, to my mother, to go back? Do I owe it to myself to move forward? I don't know."
"You're here now, fighting with the Inquisition for what you believe in. Isn't that enough?"
She looked up, meeting his grey eyes. "Is it enough for you?"
"Ah." He looked surprised, considering it. "Yes. For now, I believe it is. I want to save my home, I'm certain of that, but Corypheus has to be stopped first, or there will be nothing left to save."
"Yes. I—I'm sorry I didn't stop him for good the first time."
"You couldn't have known."
"No." She looked down at her hands. "But I'm sorry anyway."
"We make a fine pair, don't we?"
Lilias nodded. "I'm just glad I'm not the only one with these questions."
"Far from it, I imagine. I suspect if you stopped any of those who cross Skyhold so busily, they have similar questions—and similar certainty that at least for now, they're in the right place." He reached for her hand, holding it tightly. "I had forgotten that. Thank you for reminding me."
"And you for reassuring me." They clung to one another, trying to draw strength and courage from each other.
Thule had been dragged up to Vivienne's rooms, the mage's imperious summons making him worry about what it was that she wanted.
She led him into her sitting room, reclining on the settee. "Quite the momentous experience, so I understand. A lost elven temple in the midst of the Wilds. Not something one discovers every day."
To the best of his knowledge, Vivienne had no interest in elves or their history, so he was curious as to why she'd be this excited.
She continued, frowning, "We should consider the very likely possibility that Morrigan will use her newfound power against us."
Oh. That was what it was. Jealousy of Morrigan, who had taken her place in Celene's court, and Morrigan's suddenly increased power. Although based on her behavior in the War Room, Thule didn't think Morrigan found her new power completely a positive thing. No doubt she would come to as she got used to it, he supposed, and then it was certain that they wouldn't be able to trust her. "I think that's far more than a possibility," he said. "It's practically a guarantee."
"Then what will we do to prepare ourselves?"
"We watch her," he said immediately.
"Already done, my dear. Leliana certainly keeps a sharp eye on Morrigan's whereabouts, and I have my own spies reporting her movements to me. But what else? How do we prepare ourselves against her treachery?"
"Well, we certainly don't trust everything she says." He didn't entirely trust Vivienne, either, so he didn't want to get too thoroughly into the details of their plans.
"I understand she claims she can become a dragon."
Vivienne was remarkably well informed, he thought. He wondered where she got her information. "She seemed to indicate as much," he said carefully.
"Hmm. Circle records have limited information on shapeshifting. There are mentions of counter-spells that may prevent mages from transforming—or, from reverting to their true forms." She lifted her eyebrows at him, her meaning clear.
Thule grunted noncommittally. He was intrigued by the idea, but he didn't want to give Vivienne more power, either.
"Not to worry," Vivienne assured him, "I have my people researching these spells already. If they have ever been documented, I'll find them."
"And you'll keep me informed?" he asked, getting to his feet.
"Of course."
He wished he believed her.
Downstairs, he found Varric at his usual table, scribbling away in fits and starts.
"What do you think of our experiences in the Wilds?" he asked, sitting down on the other side of the table.
Varric groaned. "We went to an elven ruin so a witch could consume a pool of magical goo, and then walked through a mirror and wound up back here. Stones, the shit that happens to you is so crazy, there's no way to think about it without driving yourself halfway around the bend. If it's all the same to you, I'm just going to pretend it never happened."
"You said it," Thule told him. "How about we play Wicked Grace instead?"
Relieved, Varric dug the cards out from under a stack of papers. "Best idea I've heard in a week."