Leliana rubbed her temples, persuading a headache to fade away.
Justinia had declared her intentions to host a divine conclave, calling all enchanters and high-ranked Templars to convene with her and Chantry authorities to search for a solution to the war. The conflict was hurting southern Thedas and piercing the fault lines in the land's institutions. After a Resolutionist's assassination attempt of the Divine in the Grand Cathedral, the conclave's venue was changed from a Chantry to the neutral grounds of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Unable to ask for support from the knights-divine without risking political backlash, Leliana and Cassandra had to organise the Divine and the temple's security themselves. The task was only one of many hurdles. Thankfully, Cullen's retirement from the Order and enlistment into the Divine's provisional forces helped ease Leliana's concerns in the security's professionalism.
At a glimpse of deep blue outside Leliana's window, a soothing warmth bloomed in her chest. Here now arrived another balm to her worries.
Leliana stepped out of the stone building she had appropriated for an office while she was to remain in Haven. The small village had become an administrative site for Chantry officials who were working in the weeds to have the conclave run smoothly, like Leliana, Cassandra, Cullen, and Leliana's friend Josephine. The contract diplomatic advisor was exceedingly helpful in pacifying attitudes and moving things along. Every day, another local from around the area could be found helping tidy Haven for the arrival of the Divine and all her guests. Cassandra and Cullen meanwhile focused their resources on clearing the path to the restored Temple of Sacred Ashes and recruiting guards for the venue.
"Leli!" a distant figure called out.
Leliana's face split in a grin, and she dashed through a pile of snow. "Solo!"
Braided white hair swung as Leliana hoisted her beloved into the air with a twirl before pulling her into an embrace. A faint perfume of herbs tickled Leliana's nose as she sighed into Solona's ear. The warden squirmed, ticklish. They parted with cheeks pink from the cold and a shared warmth, yet their admiration of each other lasted only briefly before they were locking lips. The couple kissed with the effort of rooting out the time that they had been apart, savouring the realness of them together.
When they finally truly parted, Leliana sighed. "I love you."
"I love you," Solona returned with a twinkle in her eye.
The two of them hooked their arms together and began strolling through Haven's outskirts, where the clamour of busybodies almost faded away. Leliana and Solona made a game of who could crunch the most leaves and pine straw under their feet. With her snow white hair and deep blue warden garb, Solona resembled a snow princess floating through her domain. Her presence in Haven seemed to bring with her the sun as she smiled. Leliana and Solona had worked hard to restore Solona's ability to express happiness again.
"I'm glad Soldier's Peak sent you as their messenger," Leliana confessed.
"Oh, let's not talk about work, my love." Solona leaned her head on Leliana's shoulder. "Once I complete my task as a courier, I must leave."
"Not return?" Leliana verified.
"It's time," Solona confirmed. "The First Warden called for me and Avernus. I'll be one of the few wardens from Soldier's Peak to have seen the Anderfels."
"Indeed," Leliana pressed a kiss on the top of Solona's head, "let me regale you with stories of the nugs I've been raising in Val Royeaux."
They circled Haven until dusk fell, before retreating to Haven's tavern for dinner. Leliana nodded to Flissa as they settled in a corner closest to the fireplace. The couple basked in each other's company while slowly working through their meal. By the end of it, they clasped hands and leaned into each other to watch the flames.
Leliana murmured. "How does Elissa plan to attend the conclave?"
Solona chuckled. "Carver convinced her not to come."
"What?" Leliana turned in her seat to look at her lover, voice dropping. "Where is he."
"He lives up to his nickname — you know the one, from Ostagar? — using his friends as messengers." Solona amusedly revealed three envelopes one at a time. "Warden-Commander Duncan again reminds Divine Justinia that the Grey Wardens are duty-bound to political neutrality in times of both peace and war. Recruitment processes are likewise independent of political and religious beliefs."
Meaning anyone was allowed into the Wardens, permitted they survived a Joining. Whether or not recent recruits included former Circle mages or Templars was moot.
Solona continued. "Elissa writes to you her explanation for why she has declined the Divine's invitation for the conclave. This last one is from Carver."
Leliana accepted an envelope no wider than the palm of her hand. "It's light."
Solona propped her chin up on the table to watch Leliana. The firelight danced on Solona's profile, making her bronze skin almost glow. Leliana felt an irresistible urge to fix a stray hair behind Solona's ear and feel the woman's warmth through her fingertips. "You know him: a person of few words."
"Then the Grey Wardens are bowing out from the conclave," Leliana guessed.
"We never vowed to come." Solona tucked Leliana's small braid behind her ear, then pressed her palm into Leliana's cheek. "Besides, it's only Soldier's Peak. I understand our Orlesian counterpart might attend."
Solona's hand moved to the back of Leliana's neck, and they leaned into each other with pressed foreheads. To be one's love was to share in vulnerability. Though they had difficult pasts, they had found peace in each other.
Solona whispered. "I want you."
Leliana's heart skipped a beat, before she brushed her knuckles up Solona's chest and pushed her braid over her shoulder. "Je suis fou de toi."
That night, they embraced so as to imprint themselves in each other's body and soul, lighting their minds with the ecstasy and release of a shared wholeness. The renewed passion and joy carried Leliana through their final parting and the days it took for Carver to answer Leliana's letter. When the dark-haired soldier stepped through Haven's gates, a pang of longing went through Leliana's chest at his electric blue eyes. They weren't the more subdued steel that Solona possessed, but so soon after her departure, Leliana found herself moved by reminders of the woman.
In the time Leliana hadn't seen Carver, he had finally seen fit to wear the white armour of a Shielder without trying to conceal it. Lined with gold and emblazoned with the Theirin crest, there was no hiding the armour's function, and the deep red cloak over Carver's shoulders completed the colours of the Theirin heraldry. The faint iridescence in the golden helmet hanging from the side of his belt identified it as the dragonscale helmet Master Wade had smithed as part of a set more than a decade ago, split between the former members of Carver's party. Leliana invited Carver into her office, and they both collapsed into a chair.
"I didn't think you would actually come," Leliana remarked.
"I had a choice?" Carver raised a brow. Leliana's letter had been passionate. He set the helmet aside. "Gathering prominent figures in one place invites an attack."
"So the Divine shouldn't hold a conclave at all?" Leliana rhetorically asked. "The mages and Templars will be invited to a venue where neither side would wish to perform violence. The Chantry is sacred ground, but given the recent attempt on the Divine's life, the conclave will instead be held in––"
"A temple," Carver finished. "The Temple of Sacred Ashes, specifically. Elissa and the rest of us combed through Haven's tunnels ourselves, and I'm sure you've seen the pilgrimage maps. Securing that venue is a logistical nightmare."
Leliana pursed her lips. "Not without aid from the Grey Wardens and vetted mercenaries."
Carver scoffed. "Like Tal-Vashoth."
"Neutral parties uninvested in the war," Leliana reasoned.
She refrained from biting her lip. When the Divine had handed her and Cassandra the emergency writ for an inquisition, the question of an inquisitor had arisen. However, both the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall had declined to fill the role if called to.
Elissa had emphasised her neutrality as a warden, and that her interference in Circle matters during the blight had been supported by legal warden documents. If she had been close to apostates during the blight, she "couldn't say" where they were now. Likewise, Elissa was grateful yet not moved that Arl Eamon, Bann Teagan, and their sworn soldiers still remembered her contribution to the felling of a demon and undead army in Redcliffe — a story that stuck with Templars who heard it even now. Meanwhile, Garrett Hawke refused to be propped up as some figurehead for people living as far as across the continent from him. He had to deal with enough controversy as it was, being a mage ruler, a former mercenary of noble and commoner Marcher and Ferelden blood, an apostate untrained by the Circle yet with a fraternity leader for a sister, and a lover to an elf who had killed his former Tevinter master.
No other public figures had the acknowledgement of both mages and Templars, and while Leliana had composed songs about Carver, he stubbornly clung to anonymity when he could. Claiming he was not only "the Carver," but a sibling to the Fade-touched Hawkes without his willingness to back it up — much less posture with it — would prove fruitless. The same could be said of other people with vague reputations that Leliana knew of. The Divine's circle had to contend with having no inquisitor written into the back-up plan, for now.
Leliana continued. "The conclave is a Chantry-driven event, yet we can't call on Templars or Seekers to run protection. Cassandra and I are short of resources to match the scale of the assembly."
"I can't in good conscience send people to an attractive target," Carver replied. "All of the Chantry's and its institutions' major players in one place? We're fortunate enough that the venue is this far south and deep in the mountains from Tevinter. At least we would know to station the bulk of our security in the oldest and least explored levels of the temple, since the conclave's greatest threat is spiders or dragonlings crawling out from ancient tunnels."
"Well," Leliana quirked her lips, "if you dislike the idea of the conclave so much, then help me organise the security yourself."
Carver opened his mouth, realising he had walked himself into the ambush. Leliana's friend grumbled. "I'll forward your concerns to my commander and inform you if the king's army can assist."
Maybe, security around the Temple of Sacred Ashes would be so tight, Corypheus and his enthralled wardens wouldn't be able to sneak in.
As if Carver could control everything.
He pinched his nose bridge with mounting stress. If he was leading the Ferelden part of the conclave's security, he had to keep himself grounded in the present. Shielders and soldiers of the king's army coloured the snowy mountainside of the temple and Haven in silver, white, red, and gold. Carver noticed Cullen walking around in an orange surcoat over his armour and a red, feathery fur stole scarf wrapped over his cuirass and under his pauldrons.
While Leliana said nothing, Carver knew Cullen was present as part of the Divine's back-up plan for an inquisition. Cullen's orange and red clothing probably referred to Kirkwall and Ferelden respectively, marking his neutrality while reflecting his origins. The thought of Kirkwall excited Carver's acidity. At least he had managed to persuade — beg — Bethany to keep the Illuminati out of the conclave. After all, Grand Enchanter Fiona and Lord Seeker Lucius — successor to the recently missing Lord Seeker Lambert — were sending delegates and not attending themselves, in case of a trap.
As individuals involved in the temple's protection, Carver and Cullen worked together the most, since other tasks evidently demanded Cassandra and Leliana's attention. Carver had to awkwardly confirm Cullen's suspicions that he was indeed Bethany's other brother, the one that was in Maric's Shield and had tattletaled on Kirkwall's Chantry to Cassandra. Cullen thought he had recognised Carver's appearance. Apparently, the stress of serving as Kirkwall's knight-commander had piled so high, when Cassandra had invited Cullen to the Chantry, he had accepted on the spot. Carver's passing likeness with Bethany had given Cullen flashbacks.
Now, they coordinated amicably. Since Cullen was technically the full-time member of the conclave's security, Carver as the third-party assistance answered to him. The blonde was flustered to have to approve of Carver's suggestions or to have the power to order Carver around, aware that Carver's military experience outstripped Cullen's. A round of Wicked Grace nourished Cullen's confidence once he learned Carver's tell. It was worth a lighter coin purse.
Carver raised a brow as he noticed Shielder armour entering Haven's Chantry. Two chambers in Haven's largest structure were currently serving as Cassandra and Josephine's temporary offices, while Leliana and Cullen worked in stone buildings in the village that suffered less foot traffic. Carver had been meaning to check on the hidden passage in the Chantry's sanctuary that Haven's cultists had built, and that privileged Chantry priests had performed summer pilgrimages through before the Urn of Sacred Ashes had disappeared. Carver wondered what business Cassandra or Josephine could have with soldiers under Carver's care.
As Carver strolled down the Chantry, he passed by a room next to Cassandra's office with its door propped open by a Ferelden soldier. The soldier and her friends were facing the centre of the room, most of them crouched or sitting on the ground, laughing. When the Shielders ahead of Carver strode into the room, the soldiers swiftly silenced, caught off-guard.
Carver recognised Daveth animatedly gesture. "We was just watchin' the Seekers' guest, sers. The lady leader summoned the ones stationed here, an' called us over to keep the guest in one place before they returned."
Another soldier quickly nodded in confirmation, her short bangs flying.
One of the Shielders, Maker's Breath, crossed his arms. "Seeker Cassandra called all of you here?"
The soldiers shifted in place guiltily.
Daveth angled himself towards the centre of the room. "The guest started makin' small talk, an' it'd be rude to ignore a mate, yeah? His stories can crack a man up."
The motion drew the Shielders' attention to the guest in the centre of the room hidden by the small crowd of soldiers. By the time Carver reached the sanctuary doors, he heard the Shielders joining in the soldiers' laughter at the guest.
Who spoke with a familiar voice.
Carver pivoted for the room.
The Shielders had joined half of the soldiers on the ground, elbowing each other in shared humour. At the sight of Carver, however, Maker's Breath bolted to his feet and saluted.
"Ser!"
The entire room hastily straightened and saluted.
Carver caught sight of a certain dwarf in a chair. He choked. "Tethras?"
Varric twisted in his chair to look at Carver. "What in — Shiny?"
Carver sighed. "Dismissed."
As one, the Shielders and soldiers filtered out of the room and closed the door behind them. Varric gave Carver's armour and cloak a once-over, gaze briefly snagging on mended damage Carver had earned from surviving a fallen tower.
"Shit. You are in charge."
"Why are you here?" Carver demanded.
Varric innocently raised his hands. "Ask the lady Seeker. She's somehow misled into believing I can shed more light on red lyrium than what Hawke, Stannard, and I have already told her–– Woah, getting touchy-feely, are we?"
Carver continued searching Varric's coat. "Tethras, you've invaded my privacy more than once." He withdrew. "You have a shard of red lyrium."
Varric patted his coat down. "Why would I want anything to do with Bartrand's stupid idol?"
"A shard from it," Carver corrected. "Rivaini parchment in your pockets. You managed to find a buyer in Rivain who bought Bartrand's former mansion unseen, but you had to resolve rumours of it being haunted. That's where you found the shard. Cassandra wouldn't drag you with her to her work over dust, meaning you didn't destroy it. I wouldn't trust Bianca."
Varric reared back in his chair.
"You have to find surface dwarves skilled in lock-smithing somewhere," Carver reasoned. "It was wise of you to schedule your researchers on a rotation; reduces the risk of enthrallment to the 'song.' I would tell Cassandra what you know."
Varric twitched as Carver passed him. "You're just going to leave me here unattended?"
"If you leave Haven, it's on my head." Carver opened the door and raised a brow at him. "You don't want to face the consequences."
The day of the divine conclave finally arrived, and a sea of Chantry, mage, and Templar authorities streamed into the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Carver had the honour of shaking Divine Justinia's hand in private before he left her to compose herself for the assembly. Justinia had quietly thanked him for his theory on the origins of Tranquility. Leliana, Cassandra, Cullen and Josephine stayed in Haven to oversee the passage to the temple and the crowd that had gathered. While only officials like revered mothers, enchanters, or knight-captains were allowed entry, people of lower ranks had also followed their leaders to the mountains. Carver, his soldiers, and vetted mercenaries were alone to stand guard over the conclave.
As the opening of the conclave drew near, Carver double-checked the security. In as massive and endless a maze as the temple, Carver and Cullen's forces had to manage the venue through patrols. They lacked the manpower to have someone stand guard at every blindspot and point of entry. Carver nodded to sentries of the lowest secure level, before descending for the older floors of the temple that hadn't been renovated.
Tap tap tap taP TAP TAP.
Carver warily located the sound of approaching footfalls, before something suddenly ran into him from around a corner.
"Oof!"
Carver caught a woman from stumbling, startled. His torch clattered on the ground. "What are you doing here? This section is off-limits!"
The woman jerked away, clutching a staff. In the awkward angle of light, Carver recognised the leaf-shaped cut of Keeper or First armour. Only the Illuminati counted Dalish among them, and Bethany had sworn to focus her fraternity on maintaining order in the Free Marches. Just as Carver opened his mouth to question the stranger, a woman's cry hollowly echoed from around the corner, faint as if it had risen from the lower levels of the temple.
Carver cursed. "Stay here."
The stranger reached out after him as he drew Summer Sword and hurried past her down crumbling stairs. "Wait, you're going alone—!?"
The stranger's voice faded as Carver stumbled into a scene of an armoured woman brandishing a sword and shield at a qunari male, who towered between her and a Carta thug. The three were armed, panting, and bore the roughed-up appearance of a recent exchange.
"Help, over here!" the armoured woman called over her shoulder to Carver. "The qunari are invading!"
"I'm a Tal-Vashoth, you ignorant human!" the male accused. He recognised Carver's armour in his torchlight. "My ears are sharp; I heard scuffling in the lower levels and traced it to an elf and this dwarf trying to sneak in. Then this Templar ambushed me and let the elf escape!"
"Templar!? I'm a revered mother's guard, you––!"
BANG.
Summer Sword intercepted the man and woman's blades by a hair and exploded with holy light. The two warriors and the dwarf staggered back at the force.
Carver sheathed his sword. "Only permitted delegates are allowed into the temple. The two of you are coming with me."
The woman and dwarf debated Carver's hand on his pommel for a tense moment before grudgingly dropping their weapons and moving to his side. The Tal-Vashoth grumbled in hollow relief and angrily marched past them – before Carver caught his arm.
"Wait," Carver demanded, freezing.
The three strangers impatiently turned to him. "What are you waiting for?"
"Do you hear––?" Carver asked, before shoving the man aside from the stairs without waiting for a response.
Sound became colour, light became torture, and touch became the iron stench of flesh and blood. Carver hadn't debated if he had imagined the faint echo of a lisping voice. Once he had heard it, he had instantly reacted, even if he would have ended up igniting the already frayed tempers around him. It didn't matter. He had guessed correctly.
The temple exploded.
…
..
.
..
…
Agony.
…
..
.
..
…
"More bodies!"
"Wait, I see breathing––"
"Don't move the rock––!"
Pain.
"Bride of the Maker, stop it!"
"We need stretchers!"
…
..
.
..
…
Daylight piercing his senses like clouds rolling away from the sun. Jumbled gravity. Nausea.
Carver's eyes slitted open to blurred figures, before the world slowed. Cassandra had a hand on a soldier carrying the front half of a stretcher. The Seeker's lips formed the shape of Carver's name beneath knitted brows.
"C…."
Cassandra leaned into closer focus, voice gentle. "What?"
Carver lacked the strength for her name. His thoughts skipped ahead. "Four more…a Tal-Vashoth…a woman…a dwarf…an elf…."
"Me?" The Dalish woman from earlier crouched into sight. Fresh rope marks ran around her wrists. Her left hand glowed a brighter green than her hazel eyes.
Carver's lungs felt bound by rubber bands. He wheezed. "You…alright?"
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She emotionally nodded. "I'm going to try to close the big rift."
Carver's eyes slid shut against his will. "Know…you will."
…
..
.
..
…
Sorrow.
Carver wished he hadn't heard. Three bodies piled over one meant one survivor. Someone else had cheated death again.
Three people who could have become heroes.
The murmurs of healers faded out.
…
..
.
..
…
Carver groaned, his throat cracking with the pain of razors. He felt someone beside him shift with movement, before he opened his eyes to a cup of water. His gaze travelled past it to grey-purple eyes.
"You––!"
Phantom blades snipped Carver's strength, and he collapsed bonelessly back into a cot.
"You shouldn't move," Solas helpfully stated.
Carver wanted to wring his neck.
Solas wiped water off of his roughspun garments, picked up the cup from the ground, and scooped it into a nearby basin. When he held it before Carver, the latter reluctantly parted his lips and drank the water tipped into his mouth. After he drained the cup, Solas set it aside.
"You are capable of rationality," Solas observed. Carver felt belittled. "I mended your wounds, but only time and sustenance will restore your internal body and strength. One must vigilantly exercise the mind in this period of healing."
"Why?" Carver croaked.
Solas tilted his head a degree. "The loss of one's faculties is the most dangerous injury of all."
"Don't be smart." Carver turned his head to face Solas. The motion spent half of his strength. "You healed me and now seek an exercise – a negotiation. After learning my password, what will stop you from slitting my throat?"
As the words left his mouth, Carver already knew Solas wouldn't disrespect an agreement. The sage merely levelled an unimpressed look at Carver before leaning back on his stool. The wooden structure around them was absent of healers, housing only unconscious patients and a recent graduate, Carver. From the faint dust, Carver recognised he was in the equivalent of a coma ward, or an infirmary dedicated to sedated patients.
"You set the terms of your death," Solas reminded. Carver couldn't tell if the description was genuine. "The self-proclaimed Elder One hinders both our plans with his recklessness. Like a sip of water, I would reverse his momentum with assistance."
Carver choked. "My help," he deadpanned.
Solas' gaze darkened, eternal and bottomless. "You have remarkably low self-esteem." That was the first compliment Carver had heard from him, and just as unprompted and thin as Carver would have expected. "My network investigated yours to the extent capable, and in your rippling effects I read one who both heeds the imperceptible and spins it as a spider in a web."
"Maybe I can just see the future," Carver replied.
The planes of Solas' face shifted, insulted.
Carver's recording of everything Dragon Age must have seemed like a secret, insightful journal to Solas. One in which Carver had not only laid out Thedas' true history, but also the current shape of granular events and how to manipulate them – thus saving Solas the legwork. Carver even knew around when Solas would awaken and what his plans were, down to how Corypheus would mess up. With Corypheus' recent actions, Solas and the mind behind the journal had a reason to work together for a cause. Though a man could go a day without water, why wouldn't he sip what he could find? Carver was a rational convenience.
Carver sighed. "You and I suspend our plans. Our networks don't interfere with each other. So long as we're committed to hunting down Corypheus, we're not going to aim for each others' lives."
"I'll have my orb," Solas stated.
"And Corypheus will permanently die," Carver added. "Punishment enough for someone who screwed up your plans, right?"
Solas slowly stood up. "Careful what you wish for…Carver."
Carver watched him leave the infirmary. "Solas," he dismissed.
The hidden god paused, then closed the door behind him.
;
A/N:
We're in DAI, now! It's the year 9:41, so Carver is 28 years old.
While Carver's eyes are cyan blue in-game, I don't think cyan is a common term, so I've let Leliana (and past people) describe Carver's eyes as electric blue. Since belts of electric resistance exist in-game, it stands to reason that "electric" is part of Thedas' vocabulary. Carver has also called Solona's eyes electric blue before, since their eye colours are similar enough from his perspective. He additionally called Solona's eyes "steel blue" as he spent time around her.
It was a tough decision to allow only one DAI origin to live! However, with the cast expanding into DAI, I have to be easy on myself as a writer. For fun, the 1H human warrior would have gone through a transformation from racist to die-hard comrade (like Pressly from Mass Effect). The 2H qunari warrior would have inspired Thedosians to see past his horns and find a man worthy of deep respect. The dwarf rogue would have skipped past tall people drama to quietly amass a small fortune through trade and join Sera's pranks on the side.