The world came to Skyhold.

It was easier than Cullen had expected. Two months from her passing, he still thought she'd burst into his office every day with some new idea, but each realization that she wouldn't held a little less pain than the last. He'd utterly refused to move into her quarters, and for now they were being used to store the gifts from the visitors who had already come.

These visitors weren't the heads of state that were coming now but pilgrims, holy believers who wanted to pray over the ground of their Herald. Vivienne had delicately tried to suppress the belief that Ellana would bless them from beyond, but some ideas lived in the bone, and once the news of her death had trickled over Thedas, the response had poured in. Cullen didn't have the heart to turn them away. Not when he and Cassandra spent so much of their own time on a bench in the garden, sitting quietly as they considered what came next.

Cullen wondered if Ellana had ever felt the same terror when people turned to her to shape the future of their own world.

The dignitaries arrived in great waves, and Skyhold accommodated them as best it could. It had never been designed as a luxury palace, but somehow they found acceptable quarters for most of the world's leaders. It helped that some of those leaders were friend enough to volunteer for discomfort. Dorian was Archon by a vote of the Magisterium but happily bunked with his soldier. Elissa and Alistair claimed camping would remind them of their youthful days, and Hawke and Fenris lived in the tavern, occasionally stumbling away with the Chargers when they needed to be horizontal.

Even Dmitri took lesser quarters than he deserved. King Van Markham, Cullen corrected himself. King Markus had been dead, for some time, with the Mortalitasi using him as a face for their takeover. Once the truth had been exposed, Dmitri stepped into his place easily. A little too easily, in Cullen's opinion, but what was done was done. Cassandra had made it known he had her support, and the Inquisition's, and the country hadn't objected to the downgrading of the Pentaghasts. The Pentaghasts themselves had been cowed into submission by their most headstrong member. And Cassandra didn't have to be his Queen.

The Nevarran royla had been graciousness itself when Cullen and Cassandra met him at the gates. All of his masks were still in place, the ones that hid him as well as any shadow, but Cullen saw no hostility in his lines. Only the tight grip of his handshake betrayed the remnants of their tension.

When Cassandra was busy with the rest of his retinue, Dmitri leaned closed to Cullen. "So, you've won your prize," he said.

Cullen's eyes flicked to his wife, but he said evenly, "There was no competition. There was only her will."

"Said like a man who didn't lose," said Dmitri with a flashing white smile. "I do consider it quite unsporting of you to almost die, however. What man could hold up against such drama?"

"I'll try to be in less peril, next time," said Cullen dryly.

Dmitri laughed. "I must admit that your victory is all the more complete for winning your enemies to your cause," he said. He paused with a gleam in his eye. "Forgive me, I do not know which address you now prefer. Inquisitor? Commander? Prince Pentaghast?"

"Excuse me?"

"In Nevarra it is custom for those marrying into the royal family to take the name of those they wed. To preserve the claim more easily," said Dmitri. "Thus, you are now prince by right. Did Cassandra not tell you?"

Cullen looked at Cassandra, still ordering people to the sections of camp they were meant for. "It must have slipped her mind."

"Of course. With everything that's happened," said Dmitri completely unconvincingly. "For now I will continue with Cullen, then. My friend."

When Cassandra made their way back to him he bowed and kissed her hand once more, emphasizing her title and grinning at Cullen's discomfiture. His grin only broadened when Dorian arrived to greet another ruler, and the two of them made their way to the tavern, leaving the newly befuddled royalty behind.

The memorial itself was interminable. The pomp and circumstance leeched it of any meaning it might have held, and the insistence of their visitors on speaking removed any relevance. Vivienne and Cullen stood at the dais for speeches, as was required by their positions, but they kept their remarks carefully impersonal. The rest of the inner circle was there, some like Sera under threat of pain, but even Josephine hadn't wanted them to speak. Instead Empress Celene, the Antivan merchants, Grand Clerics, amd even King Alistair stood and made the usual comments. How the Inquisitor was an inspiration. How she'd taken them out of a dark time and into the light. How to carry on her legacy. The subtle undercurrent being, of course, that her legacy was best carried by themselves.

It all made Cullen's sword hand itch. And none of them ever mentioned Solas.

Instead of imagining ways to end the memorial in decisive fashion, he turned his focus to the gathered watchers. Skyhold's inner walls hadn't been nearly enough to contain all who wished to be there, and the Inquisition soldiers and woodworkers had cleared away a large section of land nearby. Cullen had left the delicate task of assigning seating to the diplomats, but even he knew the closer they were, the more important they thought they were. And so it was in the fringes, past the comfortable chairs to where the rest of the crowd stood, that the real emotion lived.

He recognized cooks and kitchenmaids as they sniffed into their handkerchiefs. Off-duty soldiers watched stiffly, their hands clenched on invisible weaponry. Servants, minstrels, even the bartender and his servers clustered in tight circles of grief still raw enough to chafe. When Cullen's eyes lit on Harding, sobbing openly, he remembered the quiet little notes of concern she'd added to her reports whenever Ellana had made contact with them in a newly scouted area.

The Inquisitor looks like she might be a little tired. Perhaps she deserves a rest on her return. Or Please tell the Inquisitor that she doesn't need to search every corner of this desert on her own. By the end, the notes had lost all traces of formality and said things like Ellana is being as stubborn as a druffalo. Order her butt back to Skyhold, Commander.

The memory of Ellana's casual removal of Harding's shy formality, the way she'd simply been what everyone needed, brought him closer to tears than anything else could have. All of these people who loved her, watching. And all of the people who only loved what she represented, talking.

He swept his eyes across the inner circle, the different people who'd been brought together by her vision. The outer crowd was the same, a mingling of elf and human and dwarf, Orlesian and Marcher, Templar and mage, even a handful of Tal-Vashoth standing like beacons among the rest. The only wonder was that she hadn't recruited a darkspawn to their cause, by the end.

The guests on the chairs sat isolated in the groups they'd brought, surrounded by their retinues. As the generic words of the Prince of Starkhaven washed over him, Cullen's eyes continued to move from group to group, considering their meaning. And the new Inquisitor thought about what might be done.

There was very little difference between an informal salon and a war party when there were this many titles in the room, Cullen realized later. Josephine could have told him, he supposed, but if he'd known he might not have come at all.

Then again, at least war was something he understood.

Most of the little wars were polite and icy. Elissa and Celene exchanged veiled pleasantries, dancing around the topic of border incursions in Southern Ferelden. The dwarven representatives argued directly with Vivienne and Cassandra about lyrium supplies, but the rancor was muffled by the gold oozing around the words. Sebastian and Dmitri were engaged in a debate over the morality of taxation, with the burr in the former's voice rising and falling with his offense level.

So it was civil, on the whole. Most of the attendees knew the game they were playing. But when Cullen wandered over to the corner Hawke had claimed, he winced to see Dorian settled opposite her and her companion. Fenris had never been accused of an excess of tact. "How many slaves made those fancy clothes, mage?" he asked Dorian as Cullen came into earshot.

"It's Dorian, actually," he said easily. "And there were several. But I assure you they were quite pleased to do it."

"Amazing that you're so certain."

"Oh yes, it was easy to tell. They rattled their chains in the happiest of rhythms as they worked," said Dorian dryly. "Or perhaps I spoke to them directly. With words. House Pavus's slaves are well-quartered, educated, and I dare say happier than most of your Kirwall peasants. Or even the middle class. And they do enjoy the challenge of topping my sartorial audacity."

"Well if they told you they were pleased, that's perfectly fine. Because it's easy to be honest with your jailers," said Hawke. For once her face was deadly serious. "I expected better of you, Dorian. You have the power to change things, and you prefer to trap people into making clothing for you."

"My dear Hawke, I don't trap anyone," said Dorian, his light words undercut by the angry flash of magic across his skin. Fenris began to glow, and the rest of the room fell silent as they turned to watch.

Cullen slashed a hand between them. "Enough," he said. He tried to put battlefield thunder in his voice, but neither man responded. "This isn't the time. Dorian, stop provoking them. Fenris, stop doing whatever it is you're doing."

Fenris turned to him with a sleepy gaze and stood. The rumble of his voice was soothing as he said conversationally, "I could rip your heart out, you know. After the magister's, of course."

"Not that kind of party, Broody," said Varric from Cullen's elbow. Darren also drifted away from his conversation with an Antivan dignitary to join the growing scrum.

The elf snarled, glow persisting. "So you side with the slavers now."

Varric cocked his head to the side. "I side with whatever gets everyone out of the room alive. 'Death At a Memorial' might make a good serial title, but it's not a personal goal," he said. "Killer, please control your date."

Fenris's eyes flashed dangerously, and Hawke stood as well. Cullen looked around to make sure there were guards in place, then stepped between the combatants.

"I don't think that helped," mumbled Sera around a mouthful of ham. She swallowed, then leaned her elbows on Varric's head. "Is that glow like the Inquisitor glow or some other kind of glow? He doesn't look very holy. Maybe it's some kind of elf thing." She groaned. "Andraste's tits, that's not going to happen to me someday, is it? Please say it won't."

"Hm, I think you'd look good," said Bull thoughtfully. "Sort of like an avenging archer woman fury thing. Might ruin your stealth shit a little. But hey, it would round out the collection. Glowing elf throwing fireballs. Glowing elf with a big-ass sword. Glowing elf girl with a bow and arrow. Nice symmetry there."

"But how would I sleep? I'd try to close my eyes, but it would be like daytime all the time, yeah?" asked Sera. She turned back to Fenris, whose fury had given way to mere irritation. "How do you do it? Does it like, turn on and off?"

Cullen rubbed his temple as the rest of the room stared in bewilderment. Except for Josephine, who was simply glaring. He could almost hear Ellana laughing at them all, egging them on, even joining in herself. You made them this way, he thought. Thanks for that.

His thanks became more genuine as Fenris's skin faded back to its usual color. The Inquisition fought its battles unconventionally, but they did usually win. Varric smiled. "Excellent. Now, Dorian, try to find that small part of yourself that's not a provocative asshole and tell them."

"I'll try, but it really is a very small part," said Dorian. He was still seated and back to his usual imperturbable self. He steepled his fingers sternly and leaned forward. "Upon my return to Tevinter, I will find a comprehensive and exhaustive report on the state of the various slave owners in Minrathous waiting for me. This includes the care they do, or do not, take of the lives they hold. And believe me there will be repercussions for those who lack the courtesy of my own house. In addition, slave auctions will be replaced by a more voluntary form of service contracts. They will be limited in scope compared to what you wish, I'm sure, and it's only one city thus far, but the Imperium's economy requires a different hand than that of the Marches."

Hawke snorted. "Voluntary. I'm sure," she said. "This is just slavery with a better face."

Dorian raised his eyebrows. "I was going to offer the job of ensuring the well-being of the slaves to your lover," he said, turning to Fenris. "And, of course, the just punishment of those who were shown to be resistant. But if you're not interested…"

"You'd trust me in the Imperium," said Fenris flatly. "Among the magisters. Who, I can assure you, will loathe this."

"There are more who want change than you might believe. They merely lacked the power to address it. My charm, and the Inquisition's forces backing it, have given them a voice," he said.

Hawke looked skeptical but said nothing.

"As for you, I believe you have honor. Your fight has not been as bloody as it could have been. Ellana showed me that trust has to begin somewhere." Dorian smiled at Elissa's loud sigh. "Yes, Your Highness, I know you do so dread that little word. But she trusted me. She trusted my father, a thing even I couldn't do. She was my closest friend. And she hated the enslavement of her people in my land. I can't stop it all. And I truly do believe that their portion of happiness is not so small as some would believe it. But I promised her that I would try to improve things. I'd appreciate your help, Fenris."

"I'll consider it," said Fenris.

"Excellent."

Maker's breath. "Why didn't you just say that at the beginning?" asked Cullen, more than a little annoyed.

The mage laughed. "And miss the chance to have such a gorgeous elf truly inside of me? You know me better than that."

"Dorian!" hissed Josephine, and Darren slapped him across the back of the head with a hand that wasn't as gentle as it could have been. Hawke didn't even try to contain her amusement as Fenris growled something under his breath. Bull, Sera, and Varric also grinned hugely, and even Cassandra almost had a smile on her face. That relaxed Cullen, just a little. If she thought it was funny, it couldn't be all bad.

Leliana caught his eye and gestured subtly at the room. He stared at her, dumbfounded. One day he would get used to the Nightingale knowing everything he was thinking before he thought of it. But clearly it wasn't today. She was right, though. This was the time to say what he'd been planning. He only prayed Cassandra would still be speaking to him at the end of it.

He clapped his hands loudly and turned in a slow circle to make sure everyone was watching. The giggles and murmurs faded away as he got the hush he was looking for. Elissa's eyes were piercing, suspicious, and he turned away. Look at Cassandra. If you convince her, you convince everyone.

With a start he saw the Keeper of Lavellan standing beside his wife. The man was young, younger than he expected from his conversations with the Dalish members of the Inquisition about their clans, and he'd said very little throughout the day. Leliana had judged him a non-threat, and she was usually right, but Solas loomed large in his mind. She hadn't been right there. Not at all.

Cullen shook his head. Worry about that later. Cassandra had already moved to keep the man in her eyesight, and she could take care of herself. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly. "I appreciate your attendance here today. Ellana would have been honored by your attentions." A lie, but one that rolled away easily. "But it would be remiss of me, of us all, to gather together so many exalted heads of state without discussing seriously the future of Thedas."

He braced himself for a joke from the less reverent members of the Inquisition, but they watched him solemnly for once. Well, mostly solemnly. Sera was smirking in a way that told him she was going to give him a mockingly pompous speech later, but he could live with that as long as she was quiet now. "We've just come through some of the worst trials our world has seen in centuries. Blights. Wars, magical and otherwise. Terrorism against the Chantry. And occasionally by the Chantry," he said. Vivienne folded her arms in the corner of his vision, and he sighed. "The point is we've survived them. Together.

"I look back on these moments in our shared history and a pattern emerges. The disasters were localized, but the response never was," he said. He pointed at Elissa. "The Hero of Ferelden may have struck the blow to end the Blight, but she arrived there through a coalition of many. An Orlesian and a Fereldan and an Antivan fought alongside her on the Tower. Elves and dwarves guarded the bridge, fought through the city, bled and died for a cause that was bigger than their differences. Noble and common banded together in the ranks. Mages fought with honor and used their magic to save this world."

He looked to the floor. "I regret that my inability to understand this truth caused the Templars to turn aside. We weren't there for Thedas when we were needed. I still saw enemies where there could have been allies, and I kept the Templars isolated and separate. This was my failing, and the lives that weren't saved will always be with me."

Cassandra and Elissa wore twin expressions of exasperation. Cassandra's lips practically moved as her eyes said, Too hard on yourself, as always, but Leliana only nodded at him. She understood the cost of making the wrong choice better than these noble warriors did. They'd always made the right ones.

"In Kirkwall, it was the same," he continued after a slight pause. "The Champion struck the blow against the Arishok, and again against the corrupted mage and Templar who'd lost their ways, but it was only through the aid of others that she was empowered to do so. Her time in the city was marked with compromise. She worked with both the Templars worthy of the name and the mages who deserved better than they had. Elf and dwarf and pirate and prince. The worthy always had a place with her. And Hawke is many things, but she is always a good judge of worth."

Hawke looked at him with wide eyes as Fenris pulled her to his side. Cullen smiled slightly. "After the battle was done, like the Hero and her husband in Denerim, like all of the people who'd joined their causes, the Champion stayed. They all stayed. They weren't coalitions for fighting. They were for surviving. And for preserving what remained."

Cullen paused again, looking at the faces around him. Skepticism. A little confusion. But some understanding. Some dawns of ideas. And, even more hopeful, a few in fierce agreement.

"The Inquisition was this idea realized in full. The problem was a hole in the sky. The solution spread across Thedas. And in this place, the world found its voice," he said. "Not just the ones in this room, but all of the people who wanted to make things better.

"I've fought alongside your people for years. They're brave. They're convicted. They have a purpose that shames even me. I'm shamed further that only the loss of the Inquisitor showed me what it meant," he said. He searched out a familiar pair of eyes and held them. Dark, and beautiful, and full of trust. "Ambassador Montilyet commented once that the Inquisition had parts of almost every nation in Thedas. But that was the wrong way around. You aren't a part of us. We're a part of you. We've grown together, bound together not by politics, not by me or Ellana Lavellan or even Corypheus, but by the common decency of soldiers and kitchenmaids and stonemasons and hostlers."

He gestured to the windows, closed but still not a shield against the hums of the less powerful attendees gathered in the courtyards. "Your people were hungry for this. They still are. For a world that had a rightness for everyone, not just everyone behind a border. Will we fail them? Go back to our old ways? Or will we find something within ourselves that they've already found? A place where a former slave can make the lives of new slaves better?" he asked, gesturing to Fenris. "Not the world as it was, and not the world as it could have been, but a world that's never even been dreamed?"

Empress Celene stepped forward, masked as usual, and said in careful tones, "And this unified world would fall under your control? The Inquisition holds great power, as we all know."

Cullen bit back a groan of frustration. Maybe it was impossible for people so rooted in power to see anything else.

Then Cassandra spoke quietly. "I think the Inquisitor is proposing exactly the opposite, Your Majesty. Centralized power has proven disastrous in all its attempted forms throughout history. Even the Chantry recognizes the need for the balance of the Divine's Hands," she said. She sighed. "The future of Thedas cannot be spoken of without consideration for the future of the Inquisition. But I believe the deeper question facing us is whether the Inquisition should have a future at all."

She gazed at him steadily, no anger on her face, and he tried to send her a thought. I'm sorry. The Inquisition is yours, and I'm sorry. Her expression didn't change, but her fingers brushed her abdomen, just slightly, and he relaxed. She understood him. This was the world he wanted to build. Not for them, but for the life she carried. And she wanted what he wanted, without reservation.

Maker he loved this woman.

His mind snapped back to the task at hand as Dmitri's voice rose. "The Inquisition will lay aside its arms once more?" He made no effort to hide his skepticism. "You have the largest army in the world. Where will they go? Back home? Create another group of Seekers and Templars?"

Cullen shook his head. "No. That will break their unity, and cause chaos in the process. The forces stay together. And your countries remain. But there's no more Inquisitor. No more advisors behind fortress walls. A council of you making the decisions for the world. Not of us."

"You expect us all to simply agree with each other on what's right?" asked Elissa incredulously. "We'll be arguing for days on even the simplest decisions."

"Then argue," he said tightly. "Fight as long as you need with words to avoid fighting with your people. Let them live." He ran a hand through his hair and across his neck. "My siblings and I never agree on anything. And yet we agree on everything that matters. You see who I love," he said, nodding to Cassandra. "And you see where my brother's affections lie."

Dorian waved jauntily to the crowd.

"We could not have chosen more differently for ourselves. And yet we don't war over those choices. In the same way our countries could not be more different. But that doesn't mean we have nothing in common."

"All well and good, but when your verbal fighting's settled, who's gonna enforce whatever's left standing?" asked a dwarf with a beard even more luxurious than Blackwall's. "I bet even your family's got a veto holder."

"You've got that right," muttered Darren.

Cullen glared at him before turning back to the speaker. "What do you recommend?"

Silence fell for a moment before a chorus of voices volunteered for the duty. An argument quickly broke out, then fractured into deeper arguments, no longer polite and icy but full and heated. Cullen shifted on his feet, unsure if this was a sign things were working or things were about to explode in his face.

Darren sidled up to him. "Well, you've definitely got the family dynamics down. Remember that time that you let all the pigs out of the sty because you wanted to see if you could get them back in again? And you couldn't? And we had guests for dinner that night? I'm certainly remembering it right now."

"Be quiet," said Cullen irritably.

"It was a very good speech, though," said Darren more kindly. "You've got my vote, if we have one. If I even get a vote." He frowned. "And don't worry, you'll get Dorian's vote, too. I'll make sure of it."

"Please don't tell me how."

"Okay," said his brother. "But let me ask you something. Do you know if there's anyone here who has fake elf ears to loan me?"

Cullen's head whipped around in shock, but his brother looked perfectly serious. "Bull probably knows," he said to himself and wandered away.

He barely noticed when his wife joined him, but Cullen tried to find himself again when he saw Lavellan's Keeper with her. "Sir," he said, bowing. Why hadn't he ever asked Ellana what the right honorific was? He thought back to her conversations with Solas. "I'm pleased you could join us, hahren," he added, praying it wasn't an endearment.

The Keeper looked startled, then laughed. "Thank you, Inquisitor. But there is no need for such formality. You may call me Tiren. Or Keeper, if you must," he said. "But I hope you will not. Not if we are to be family."

There was a faint question in his voice, and Cullen answered it quickly. "The Dalish would of course be included as equals. Those who wish to be. I know that the clans don't all speak with one voice."

Josephine and Leliana drew in around them as the Keeper nodded. "Much as the rest of the land does not. Or possibly did not, depending on the outcome here. But in this, I believe, there would be interest from many of our clans. For self-preservation, if nothing else. A combination of the world could crush us completely, if it chose."

"I won't let that happen."

"How will you stop it?" asked Tiren. "Your power is already flowing away like the water in a stream."

Cullen looked him in the eye. "I won't let it happen."

The Keeper smiled again. "I see why Lavellan's daughter thought so highly of you," he said. "You are much alike."

"A compliment greater than I deserve." If it had been meant as a compliment. Cullen hadn't forgotten Ellana's words.

The other man must have read it on his face. "Ellana might not have believed it to be a compliment, though it was meant as such," he said. "I have great respect for her. She was born into the wrong place, but she grew into the right one." He reached into his pocket and drew out a bundle of papers. "She wrote to me before her death. Lavellan doesn't mourn in this fashion, but she begged me to come to this gathering. I think she hoped you would make the choice you are making and wished me to speak for The People. And to see you and bear witness to your acts."

"Me?" asked Cullen.

Tiren nodded. "Lavellan has always known the movement of the world outside the Dalish affects us, whether we desire it or not. We sent someone to the Conclave for this reason. But to know that a thing will touch you and to believe it to be worthy of doing so are two different things. Ellana thought us cynical, and so I sent her to teach her the true ways of humans," he said. He smiled ruefully. "It seems I am the one who must learn a lesson."

"The elves have reason to distrust," said Leliana quietly.

"Reasons too easily turn into excuses for those who do not wish to change," said Tiren. "It's good to know there are those in the world who are not chained only to what is."

Cassandra snorted and gestured to the still-arguing throng around them. "And those who still are."

But the noise was fading a little as more and more groups combined, finding allies and compromises. After a few more minutes, Elissa stepped forward. "We've reached a consensus. Mostly," she added as Empress Celene coughed. "It's clear none of us can hold controlling power over the others. Trust," she said with wry emphasis, "is beyond us."

"You'll have to trust someone," said Cassandra.

"Yes," she said. "Namely, all of you. The Inquisitor was very eloquent on the subject of your representative coalition. Moreover, you've shown the ability to hold power and the wisdom to set it aside with care." Celene coughed again, and Elissa glowered at her. The Queen of Ferelden's tones grew icy. "A wisdom that some people are still trying to learn."

Cullen was still lost. "So you want the new non-Inquisition to be… the Inquisition?"

Alistair laughed. "Put that way it does sound rather silly it took us so much arguing to get there. But in my experience, committees are nothing if not silly. Congratulations, Thedas Council. Thedosian Overseers? Watchers of the World?" He looked at Darren, who shrugged. "We'll work on that."

"There are two other conditions," said Dmitri. "One is that Divine Victoria and the Archon are excluded from the new council. They represent their own interests too strongly. Two is that you cannot operate from Skyhold. It's too much a seat of power." He crossed his arms. "We propose an exchange of sorts. Each country welcoming whichever members will come. And you will be free to meet, communicate, and operate much as you are now, freely throughout our countries, only with your decisions subject to the oversight of us all."

Cullen sighed. Another new home. But he saw the wisdom in it and nodded after a quick look at the rest of the group.

Dorian raised his hand. "Tevinter is more than pleased to welcome a Fereldan to its ranks, but it will also take an oaf of a Tal-Vashoth as long as he promises to stop calling everyone a Vint," he said.

Bull shook his head. "The Chargers are mine. I don't move without them. Vint."

"Bring them along, then," said Dorian, glaring. "I'd been meaning to get Krem's advice anyway."

"And Ferelden welcomes Orlais," said Elissa with a small smile at Leliana. "And Antiva, if needed."

Celene frowned. "I wish Lady Montilyet to join my court."

Elissa rolled her eyes. "Fine. And Antiva, on occasion."

"I want Sera!" said Hawke. Fenris stared at her in horror as she grinned like a cat. "She'll fit right in at our house."

The rest of the room chimed in. The dwarves didn't want anyone to sully their grounds, but they were open to news and access. The Antivan merchants were more than interested in Varric's presence, and Blackwall agreed to stay in the Anderfels. Dmitri claimed Cullen and Cassandra with a glee that made Cullen very nervous. He almost asked if he could reconsider when Lavellan's Keeper spoke quietly.

"I was not included in the discussion, but I agree with the wisdom these leaders have shown," he said. "I've been empowered to speak for many clans, and if you will assure our full participation, I will speak for them with you in perpetuity."

Most nodded, but the Orlesian masks remained stubbornly still. "Do it, Celene," said Alistair, a touch of exasperation in his voice. "The Dalish saved us all, if you think about it. Stop playing The Game and start ruling."

"Very well," she said after a minute, inclining her head gracefully. "We offer our assurances."

The room relaxed a little, but Josephine whispered, "I'll keep an eye on that one."

Cullen nodded and lifted his hand for quiet once again. "As for our own part, I propose that Skyhold be given to the elves for their own use once the Inquisition has removed itself. It was originally theirs," he said.

Surprised murmurs ran through the room, and Vivienne stepped forward. "This is a place holy to the Chantry, my dear. Not the elves."

"Halamshiral is holy to the elves," he countered. "We all live in holy places that aren't our own. And if the Maker is anywhere, He is everywhere."

She smiled appreciatively, and Leliana couldn't stop a chuckle. "Well said," said Vivienne. "I suppose I must concede. However, I request that the Dalish allow access to the site for those pilgrims who wish to commune."

Tiren nodded. "It would be ungracious to refuse," he said. "And for our part, we will welcome the heart of the Inquisition."

Cullen's throat tightened, thinking of the grave in the Chantry already flowering over, but Tiren looked to the corner of the room. "Cole. Will you join into Lavellan?"

A slight figure in a floppy slid out of the shadows and back into view. Cullen started guiltily, and he saw Josephine flinch as well. He'd completely forgotten about the boy, and by the look on his face, Cole knew it.

"I'm not an elf," he said, still and grave. "And my face has no pictures."

The Keeper smiled softly. "The vallaslin do not make us who we are," he said. "They say Ellana's face was bare as well, in the end, but she was still Lavellan." He studied the unmoving boy. "She told me about you. She said you were the one who found her when she was lost and soothed her when she was afraid. She loved you very much, and she was insistent that you be remembered. You were a brother to her. Ellana would wish you to be a part of us."

Happiness rose on Cole's face like the sun breaking through the clouds, and Cullen heard Cassandra's breath catch in her throat. He gripped her hand, and he blinked away tears as Cole took a small, hesitant step towards the elven man. "If I stay, may I have a cat?"

Tiren laughed. "Of course," he said. His expression grew serious. "Only you should have two. It's never good to have only one. Every creature needs companions."

Cole nodded. "Yes," he said. He looked around the room and his eyes fell on them all in turn. He stopped on Cullen, blinding in his joy. "We need companions. And I have two families, now."