Regrettable and Inevitable
a/n- Well, I have once again been a neglectful writer, but I ask that you forgive me for this. I have had a great deal of other writing to do in the last few weeks so I have been unable to focus my time on this story. I have also been trying to plan out some of the events in Halam'shivanas (which, if you haven't given it a try, I recommend. *shameless plug*) so that they fit into a story hopefully as cohesive and believable as Inquisition itself. Anyway, I won't keep you any longer. I'm going to ask this time whether anyone can find it in their hearts to review. I would love to hear from you. Enjoy!
Redcliffe's throne room was filled with dreary autumn light, but Enya relished this faint hint of sun over the greenish tint that had filtered through the windows in the future. She let her grief fuel the anger that boiled in the pit of her stomach as she gaze upon Alexius' startled face. With a sucking, pop, Dorian snatched the amulet out of the air and drew himself up to full height in the absence of the Time Rift. Enya approached Alexius and he stumbled back a few steps before falling to his knees in defeat. He was a coward, too afraid of death and failure to see what his other self had come to realize. His head hung. He did not even have the stomach to look her in her face at his defeat.
"Put aside all claim to Redcliffe and we'll let you live," Enya commanded.
Alexius peered up at her now from under his hood and flinched at the fury that filled her emerald eyes. She knew he would cling to that offer, he wanted to live. Enya stepped closer to him.
"Very well," he assented, "This game has gone on long enough."
His eyes travelled to where his son stood beside the tall Ferelden throne. Felix stepped forward, his mouth drawn in pity as he knelt, "It will be alright father."
"No it won't. You'll die,"
Enya's vengeance seeped away at the mournful expression on the magister's face. Felix grasped his father's hand.
"We're all going to die someday," the young Tevinter man rose and allowed Leliana's men to place his father in restraints.
"Thank you, Herald," Felix commented, then nodded to Dorian and departed after his father.
Enya nodded to him and watched the Inquisition's men leave. Drawing a shaky breath, she glanced down at the foot of the steps to where Cassandra and Solas stood, still very much alive and untouched by red lyrium. Cassandra gave a small smile, her face shining with quiet approval and Solas nodded acknowledgement. They could not possibly know her relief to see them, but nevertheless, their small gestures deadened the pain in her heart.
"Well, at least that's over," Dorian's voice dripped with relief.
Enya nodded to him, just before the echo of marching boots filled the hall. She raised her eyebrows as two dozen Ferelden soldiers marched into the hall. They were followed by a man that she could only assume was King Alistair. His blonde hair and large nose, coupled with his unmistakeable noble dress left little doubt that this was the man Josephine had described to her during their lesson on Thedas' leaders.
"Grand Enchanter Fiona," he called out as he paced forward, "imagine my surprise when my informants told me that rule of Redcliffe had been handed over to a Tevinter Magister."
Unbidden, all eyes in the room fell on Fiona. The Grand Enchanter struggled to draw herself up to full height, as though shame held her down. She approached him, though, which Enya found unusual for one of her standing.
"King Alistair, I…" Fiona stuttered as she addressed the king.
"Especially since last I checked the ruler of Redcliffe is Arl Teagan."
Ferelden's king had an odd way of ruling and of speaking to his subject, Enya observed, but she recalled that he had been raised outside of nobility, the bastard son of his father. Perhaps that was what made his speech so congenial and yet powerful.
"Your Majesty, we never intended…" Fiona's words failed her, the kind of stammer that came from measuring every word for its response.
A surge of pity filled Enya for the Grand Enchanter. It was clear from the way she approached the king, reached out to him with what appeared to be compassion, despite her mistakes, that she cared a great deal what he thought. It was odd for Fiona to be so hesitant. She had once been Grand Enchanter and when Enya first encountered her, she had seemed to have the capacity for forceful declaration.
The king cut her off again, but there was regret in the rhythm of his strong voice, "I am well aware of what you intended, but I cannot allow it to continue. Ferelden was willing to give you shelter, but no more. You and you followers are no longer welcome in my Kingdom."
Enya descended from the dias as he spoke. They had come to solicit the aid of the mages nearly a fortnight before and now was their chance.
"But where will we go?" the Grand Enchanter forgot propriety in her distress, though Enya doubted the Ferelden ruler even noticed, "I have hundreds who need protection."
Enya stopped next to her and clasped her hands behind her back, "The Inquisition still requires the help of mages to close the Breach. In exchange for your aid, we could offer your people sanctuary and purpose."
Fiona's forehead wrinkled with her frown, "And what might be the terms of this arrangement?"
Enya opened her mouth but Dorian spoke, "A better offer than anything Alexius gave you."
"We cannot trust that they will not try to take matters into their own hands as they have here. They have shown what they will do without proper supervision," Cassandra brought her hand down to rest on the hilt of her sword, "I suggest we conscript them into our service."
"Conscription would eliminate all opportunity to prove their loyalty. The mages have lost all chance of support outside of the Inquisition. We are their final chance for freedom."
Solas' reasoning was sound, though she could understand Cassandra's as well. She could not help but remember her own induction into the Inquisition. It had not been her choice and she'd resented the leaders for their imposition despite her kindness toward them. No, if the mages were to join the Inquisition, she would not limit them. Perhaps they would have to keep a close eye on their new recruits, but everything they did would be of their own free will.
"It seems I have no choice but to hand my people's future to you, Herald of Andraste."
Enya sensed the trepidation in her tone.
"I will not conscript your aid, Grand Enchanter. Your people will fight at our side as allies," She finished this statement with a triumphant smile.
The Grand Enchanter's shoulders sank slightly as she exhaled and a relived smile crossed her face, "Let us hope that the rest of your Order has minds as open as yours, Herald."
"They will have to. The Breach is a threat to us all, regardless of our origin. We cannot afford to be divided in such trying times." Enya declared, though even as the words left her mouth she could feel Cassandra's frustrated gaze burning into the back of her neck.
King Alistair drew closer to them and crossed his hand behind his back as well, "I would take that offer, Grand Enchanter. One way or another, you and your people are leaving my kingdom. I cannot risk another insurrection, regardless of intention."
Fiona hung her head and for a moment, Enya thought she spotted actual tears on the elf's face, but as the Grand Enchanter faced her, there was no sign of the dampness she'd though to be there.
"I would be a fool not to accept your offer, Herald," Fiona gave her a grateful smile, "I will ready my people and journey to Haven to meet your Inquisition. The Breach will be closed. You will not regret this decision."
Enya nodded back to her and sincerely hoped Fiona was right. The Grand Enchanter left with a deep bow to the King. Ferelden's ruler was silent for a moment though Enya was not unaware of the way he scrutinized her. She turned to him and raised her chin and squared her shoulders, her Dalish pride revealing itself. He was a good man, she could tell, with a kind heart. The way he had shown true remorse when he exiled Fiona spoke volumes.
"I've heard of you, if I'm not mistaken," Alistair's comment was calculated, yet there was a note of jest in his voice, "You're the one they call the Herald of Andraste, are you not? Then again, I could be mistaken. My sources are not as reliable as they used to be."
He cast a pointed glance at a soldier dressed more formally than the others. The man shifted foot to foot.
"You are not mistaken." Enya answered, "Though I don't claim to be anyone's prophet."
He chuckled, "Honesty does you credit. Though, I recommend that you are not always so quick to dissuade that claim. It helps remind people that you aren't something to be feared."
"To be feared?" Enya's brow knitted together.
The king sighed, "Your Mark gives you power that many would fear if they did not think it of Divine origin. Still others may find it disingenuous for you to deny your patronage."
Enya nodded to him, "I'm sure my being an elf helps little as well."
Ferelden's ruler frowned, "That is likely true, but I wish it were not so."
"My ambassador said that after the defeat of the Archdemon, you allotted lands to the Dalish in Ferelden." Enya acknowledged, "Yet at Arlathvehnan, there was but one clan that called Ferelden its home."
Alistair sighed, regret creeping into his face, "I made a promise to the Hero of Ferelden. You know, of course, that she was Dalish. Ferelden's mistrust and poverty after the Blight lead to hostility between the farmers and the Dalish. Eventually, any clan that attempted to move into Ferelden was either killed or left under duress."
It was to be expected, she supposed, yet she had hoped otherwise, that somewhere the was a small place where the Dalish were accepted but it seemed that was impossible.
"Regrettable though it is, in a world so divided as this, it is hardly a surprising outcome. Even the word of a king has little sway on the prejudices of his people."
Enya glanced at Solas, who'd come to stand by her shoulder. He met her gaze and nodded. She could not tell whether this was a sign of approval or simply acknowledgement but she returned it with a blink. The grimness of his words set his jaw and tightened his cheeks as he turned to Alistair.
"Unfortunate though that may be," Alistair nodded to Solas.
The King stepped toward her and offered her his arm. It was a courteous gesture, one that surprised her, but she took it, nonetheless. She could picture the fury on her father's face.
"Are you certain?" she questioned.
"Oh let the tongues wag, Herald," The Alistair lead her from the throne room, his guards trailing behind him, "I know you will not pay me the respect I am due as a king, but I can pay you the respect you are due as the Herald of Andraste."
Alistair had grown far past the shy, awkward Grey Warden recruit that proliferated the tales of the Blight that Varric occasionally told around the fire, Enya realized. He had accepted his position as King to great effect. His care and respect toward her, shamed her in a way, and she realized that despite her protestations, he believed her to be Andraste's Herald.
"I owe your Inquisition a great deal of thanks for ridding us of Magister Alexius and his Tevinter cultists. The Grand Enchanter should have known better than to seek their help." King Alistair's face grew troubled, "I wish that it was within my power to help the mages but I cannot sacrifice the good of my kingdom for the pity of a rebellion."
They'd reached the doors to the castle and the King returned her hand to her, with a bow of his head, "I wish you luck in closing the Breach, Herald. You've done Ferelden a great service, one we will not forget."
Enya bowed to him, for he had shown her a great deal of kindness, despite her rudeness. As the Ferelden soldiers and its king mounted their horses in the courtyard, she watched and considered the oddity of a Dalish elf from the Free Marches walking with a human king.
Cassandra stood at her shoulder, and Enya knew without looking that the Seeker was frustrated. Her stance was taught as the string of a bow and when Enya did examine her former captor's face, that tension was echoed in the sharp line of her jaw. The Seeker watched the King and his men leave across the bridge of the castle with a short huff.
"For a man who has held his throne for nearly a decade, he lacks caution," she commented, "He gave the mages his protection and look what it brought him."
"I will not go back on my word, Cassandra."
Another deep breath left the Seeker's chest, and she met Enya's gaze. It no longer mattered to Enya that she must look up to Cassandra. No matter how angry, she was not intimidated by the intensity or power in the Seeker's stance. Instead, she levelled the same conviction back, a vein hope to reassure and overpower the former Divine's Right Hand. Enya saw her friend's face change, soften in the light of the courtyard and though Cassandra's eyebrows knotted inward over her nose, an example of her further anger, she let out a resigned growl and stepped away.
"Very well," The Seeker assented, descending the steps into the courtyard, "We should not tarry here. We have a long journey ahead of us."
Enya nodded, a small grin slipping unbidden onto her face. Cassandra's tactic when she'd been beaten was always to change the subject to something innocuous. In the wake of her adventure into their dark future, this simple fact of character was a small comfort. Dorian pressed passed her, approaching the Seeker where their horses were tied. He made a gesture and a comment. Enya could hear Cassandra biting reply even at the top of the stairs.
It was then she noticed the sensation that she was being watched. Solas considered her from the arch of the Castle doors, that same narrow eyed expression of careful thought and cautious contemplation. It vanished, replaced by his usual serene mask as he noticed her attention. He approached her, languid, soft steps padding against the stone. When he drew level with her, Enya fell into step next to him, contemplating the authority with which he spoke on matter of leadership. They began the long descent down the stairs toward the horses.