This chapter was partly inspired by the song "In the Red Dwarf's Tower" by Blind Guardian.
TW for a potentially shocking (because of who does it) moment of vindictive torture. Also some mentions of canon homophobia and slavery, but if you're reading a fic featuring the Dorianmance, you already know about that.
Chapter 7: The Red Dwarf
Max awakened early one morning shortly after they had been settled in at Skyhold to a summons. A confrontation was occurring in the courtyard, and it was to him to resolve it. That was all the information the courier could give.
Scowling and keeping his grumbles under his breath, Max pulled on some clothes and shoes and tramped down the many stairs.
"This thing is not a stray puppy you can make into a pet, Solas. It has no business being here."
"Wouldn't you say the same of an apostate?"
When Max reached the courtyard, his eyes widened in surprise.
There, before him, was the young—being—who had introduced himself as Cole. But he only existed in my head, didn't he? Max thought in bewilderment. In the Fade in my head. What's he doing here?
And Vivienne and Solas were having an increasingly heated argument—heated, at least, on Vivienne's side. Cassandra was there too. As soon as Max made his appearance, they turned to him.
"Inquisitor. I wondered if perhaps Cole was a mage, given his unusual abilities."
"He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him," Solas said. "These are not the abilities of a mage. It seems that Cole is a spirit."
"It is a demon," Vivienne said in an expression of utmost confidence.
"If you prefer, although the truth is somewhat more complex."
"Cole saved my life at Therinfal Redoubt," Max said at once. "If not for him, the envy demon would have won. It would have emerged impersonating me and you would be talking to it now, thinking it was me. Cole stopped that from happening. I trusted him then and wasn't betrayed."
"That was before we knew what it was," Vivienne said at once.
Max raised an eyebrow. "You mean what you say he is."
"It is a fact, Inquisitor."
"If it is, then where's your evidence that he's a demon and not a spirit, as Solas says?"
Solas himself spoke up then. "His nature is not so easily defined."
"Speak plainly, Solas," Cassandra said impatiently. "What is he?"
"Demons normally enter this world by possessing something. In their true form, they look bizarre, monstrous. But Cole has possessed nothing and no one, yet he appears human in all respects."
Max was not convinced. "The envy demon told me it was capable of that too—of impersonating me while never actually possessing my body. I need more than that, Solas."
Solas was clearly not offended, and in fact smiled at Max's reply. "Of course. You are a thinker. But Cole did not come to the physical world to deceive and manipulate, as the envy demon meant to. He is not a spirit of Envy. He has come here to help. I recommend that you let him."
"Help how?" Max turned to Cole, but the... spirit?... was gone.
His heart sinking, trying to avoid the looks that must be gracing Vivienne's and Cassandra's faces, he led them around until he found Cole again—at the medical area of the courtyard.
He was crouching next to a dying soldier, muttering to the man. "Haven. So many soldiers fought to protect the pilgrims so they could escape. Choking fear, can't think from the medicine, but the cuts wrack me with every heartbeat. Hot white pain, everything burns. I can't. I can't. I'm going to... I'm doing. I'm..."
The soldier stopped breathing.
"Dead," Cole concluded.
"Did you kill him?" Max gasped in horror.
Cole gazed at him innocently. "I helped him face death. I was there with him. But no." He wandered to another fading soldier. "Every breath slower. Like lying in a warm bath. Sliding away. Smell of my daughter's hair when I kiss her goodnight."
"Stop," Max protested as this soldier died too. "Let them have their privacy in death, Cole. Don't tell everyone else their final thoughts. It's not right."
"I used to think I was a ghost," Cole said, though it was not clear to Max that he was actually responding to Max's remarks. "I didn't know. I made mistakes... but I made friends, too. Then a Templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything. I learned how to be more like what I am. It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can help." He gazed at Max again. "Please, let me help them. No one else hears them."
"You don't have to tell everyone else what they are thinking, though. You can be with them as they pass and keep their thoughts to yourself. If they wanted their thoughts known, they would have shared them with us."
"I am... hurting them by sharing?"
"I don't know, but you're hurting me. I don't want to invade their privacy." Max crouched low and gazed at Cole. "Maybe in the Fade, spirits can't help but share their thoughts, but in this world, it's private unless we speak. Got it?"
Cole seemed to struggle with the concept, but he managed a nod. Then he rose to his feet and stepped over to yet another soldier. "I help the hurt, the helpless... here is someone." He stooped next to the soldier. "Hurts, it hurts, it hurts, someone make it stop hurting. Maker please..."
Max nearly jumped on Cole as the spirit drew a terribly sharp dagger.
"The healers have done all they can. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy. Help." He raised the dagger.
"Don't you dare!"
"His body is failing."
"He is alive. Where there's life and consciousness, there's a chance. He might recover."
"How do you know?"
"I don't, and neither do you." Max gazed pointedly at Cole. "That's life. When people beg for mercy in the throes of pain, they don't always mean what they say. They just want the pain to stop, but that doesn't necessarily mean they want to die right then and there. If you stick that blade in him now, it isn't mercy, but murder. You don't want to be a murderer, do you, Cole?"
Cole dropped the dagger as if it were on fire. The word itself seemed to burn him. "No," he whimpered. "No."
Max nodded. "Do not use that on sick patients. Only on the enemy in a fight. You want to help, but you're not helping them by ending their lives sooner than they should be ended."
Max was relieved to get away after that confrontation. The truth was, if he had not met Cole at Therinfal Redoubt, he would have agreed with Vivienne—at least, about the risk that he posed, though he still would have disagreed that Cole was a demon. Seeing the spirit hold out the knife was disturbing too, and he hoped that his message to Cole got through.
The lack of mage Healers for the Inquisition bothered him. Petra and Lysas had informed him, regretfully, that Viscountess Hawke had not sent any. Even during the war, many of the Healers had not been part of the army. She and Anders—and Max gathered it was more his idea than hers—had established several city-owned clinics in Kirkwall where mage Healers could treat the ill, and most of the free mages who had that talent served civilians. After the war ended, those who had joined the army had mostly gone to the city clinics too. The Inquisition had medics, but they were not mages.
Another request to write down, he thought to himself as he headed toward a different area of the courtyard. Several of his friends and companions had gathered to watch the work crews clean up and restore the grounds. Carver Hawke and Merrill were among them, striding through the ruins—which still held a sort of wistful, sad, ancient beauty—and talking quietly to each other. Max smiled as the sunlight hit his face. He sat on a stone bench beside Dorian, who returned a pointed, smirking look and gave a quick nod.
Max didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard to avoid it in close quarters. Leliana stepped into the courtyard from Skyhold. She gave Carver a shrewd look, which sent his expression into one of panic—the panic that prey feels when it is cornered, Max thought. He wondered about that...
But not for long. Leliana spoke to him immediately. Her voice was low. "Warden Carver. I have to ask you some questions about your instructions from before you left Vigil's Keep."
Carver sighed as if expecting this.
"Your commander, Warden Cousland, has not been answering my letters. I have not heard from her personally since before the Conclave. I understand that she believed there was a threat that required her to lock down security. A fear that Corypheus could get into Wardens' heads and pull out information from you, although there is no actual evidence that he has done so. But now that she has sent you and Warden Tabris here—and you have Joined Rainier and Felix too—there are four Wardens among the Inquisition. For her to have done this means that she must see the threat as lesser now, does it not? So she can communicate with the Inquisition now without worrying that Corypheus will get into her mind and steal information about his foe's military plans?"
Carver gave her a regretful look. "I'm sorry," he said, "but she doesn't see it that way."
Leliana scowled. "Then what is she thinking? I disagree with her, since she has no indication that this has occurred, but if she does still fear it, why has she sent you here and let you make more Wardens?"
"Actually," Carver said, grimacing, "she gave us strict orders not to interact with the Inquisition high command about any secret matters except those relating to Wardens. We are to provide information and support to you about Corypheus on an as-needed basis. She wants us Wardens kept out of any other military or political discussions, because she does fear what you said and doesn't want us knowing anything about what you are planning." He gave Max a look to mean that he wanted the Inquisitor to know this too.
Leliana had no verbal reply to that. Irritation—and resignation—filled her face as she glowered. "As you say, Warden Carver," she managed.
Carver was grateful to make his escape, Merrill following after him.
Dorian turned to Max as Leliana stalked off in a different direction. "Relationship trouble, apparently," he muttered quietly. "Even in Tevinter, we know about the Hero of the Blight and Sister Leliana." His expression became awkward. "It's a rather scandalous topic among the altus."
Max gave Dorian a querying look. "Leliana and Lady Cousland are a scandal in Tevinter? Why?"
Dorian broke his gaze with Max abruptly and stared ahead. "Keeping the bloodline going is paramount, so same-sex relationships are a scandal," he said in clipped tones. "At least, exclusive ones like they have made public to all of Thedas. The altus are frightened that others will follow their example. In Tevinter high society, those who have such inclinations are encouraged to find lovers among favored slaves and keep it discreet."
Max's face curdled, and his heart was sinking, though he knew not why—or was unwilling to articulate why, at any rate. He just would not have expected Dorian to have this attitude about same-sex relationships... and, worse, there were his words about slaves...
"A master and a slave cannot be 'lovers,'" Max said sharply. "It's rape."
Dorian turned around roughly to face Max. Offense shone from his face. "That is a mightily judgmental word, Inquisitor."
Pain lanced through Max at Dorian's pointed, deliberate use of the title rather than his name.
Dorian continued. "You don't think that they could ever form a friendship? That a master could never be kind and respectful, treating slaves as equals—"
Max could hardly believe his ears. "As equals?" he repeated in disbelief. "One owns the other! By law, the master holds the power of life and death over the slave! Of beating, branding, mutilation! Even if a particular master wouldn't do those things, the one who is enslaved would have no legal recourse if their master did! Can't you see that is inherently unequal?"
Dorian gazed back evenly at him. "What I see is a man making sweeping, judgmental assertions. If there is friendship and kind treatment between master and slave, who are you to call it abuse and rape?"
Max rose to his feet. "Judgmental," he repeated. "Yes, I am judgmental about slavery. Just as I was a Libertarian in the Circle for the same reason. Even when Templars and mages were friends, before the war, one had absolute power over the other. That doesn't mean every Templar was abusive, but it did mean that mages had no legal recourse against those who were, and it meant that a mage-Templar relationship was inherently not a relationship of equals! Perhaps a master in Tevinter is so sure that he's kind, generous... that the slave he takes to bed is a 'lover.' But can he ever be sure that the slave agrees?" Max continued before Dorian could reply. "Maybe the slave is thinking, 'if I say no, I'll be punished.' Maybe the slave isn't thinking that consciously but it's in the back of their mind. Maybe they do trust their master, but there's a shadow of a doubt all along that they will suffer severe repercussions if they ever say no—or even hint at this doubt to their master at all! So the master doesn't know what the slave is really thinking. It's not a free relationship if any of that is true."
Dorian wanted to object as Max stormed off, but the truth was, he could see the Inquisitor's point of view. And he found it impossible to argue against.
Max stalked into Skyhold, his heart pounding in distress. He couldn't say that Dorian's attitude about slavery surprised him—after all, the man was the son of a magister, and Max realized he had known all along that he was probably exposed to slavery through his family. The subject had never come up until now, but he wasn't surprised at the confirmation. And he did believe that Dorian, if his family had slaves, would be a kind master. That wasn't the point.
The issue was what Dorian had said to lead into that discussion. Max had not faced it, but he realized now that there was a reason why he had focused on Dorian's presence in the envy demon vision and brought him into his inner circle so quickly. In the Ostwick Circle, most of Max's romantic and intimate experience had been with male mages. He just found the physique of a well-toned, handsome male body extremely attractive. And subconsciously he had thought Dorian was the same. To hear, instead, that Dorian either wasn't—or, as seemed more likely to Max, that Dorian had internalized the attitudes of his social class in Tevinter and might well have taken male slaves to his bed to hide his shame—well, that was extremely painful for Max to face.
In fact, he couldn't face it at all right now. He wanted something else to do, something that would let him take out his anguish and frustration on a thoroughly, indisputably deserving target. We still have that Red Templar from Therinfal Redoubt captive, he thought as he swept through the great doors to Skyhold's hall. Innocents died while he was safe in the Chantry dungeon.
Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra, and Vivienne were talking quietly near the head of Skyhold's court. They fell silent as Max approached.
"Ladies," he said briefly, "I think it is high time we interrogated our prisoner, Fornier."
Leliana smiled darkly. "An excellent idea, Inquisitor."
Red Templars were extremely dangerous, so it was judged best for Fornier to be bound and enclosed during his questioning so that he could not shoot pellets or spikes at them. The question was, who would subdue him?
A solution arrived in the form of Cassandra. She turned to Max as they neared the dungeons. "Inquisitor. I need to tell you—I cannot be certain of this, but I have encountered Red Templars and red lyrium on several occasions now, beginning in Dragon 9:36 when I went to Kirkwall with"—she sighed—"Lucius Corin to investigate the Templars there at Hawke's request. I do not think red lyrium can affect Seekers."
Varric, who had decided to accompany the others, raised his eyebrows at her. "You never told me or Hawke that."
"I have told no one until now, Varric. I have not been sure of it. I have not seen it as often as some, such as those who fought in the Mage-Templar War. But every time I was around it, it had no effect on me. I sensed nothing amiss in my mind. I cannot be positive that it would not contaminate my body, because I did not risk that, but I do think that my mind is immune."
"If Seekers have a special power over red lyrium, cast Smite at him, anything, to subdue him," Max said, "and then we'll put him into a suit of armor too thick for him to shoot the filth through."
Cassandra nodded. "As a mage, you might want to stand back when I do."
Max shuddered. He had been caught in the Holy Smite before by accident in the Circle. It was not an experience he cared to repeat.
Rainier, Sebastian, and Cullen joined them as well, carrying the heaviest suit of armor they could find in Skyhold. Max stood back as Cassandra knocked Fornier dizzy with the Smite—and it worked, interestingly to Max. Then he and Vivienne cast sleep spells on him, as the others pulled him roughly into the armor—and chained the arms to the sides.
Fornier was not doing well without his steady supply of red lyrium. Deprived of "sustenance" from the outside, the red lyrium that had already gained a foothold inside his body was beginning to consume his flesh instead. Small spikes and crystals were projecting from the surface of his skin, with bruising visible underneath as more grew and their sharp edges poked at the man's internal flesh. Max and everyone who accompanied him to the man's cell were revolted and horrified as they gazed at him through the bars.
"Vile, but that answers some questions," muttered Varric.
"Red lyrium is both life and death to them," Cassandra said grimly. "If they do not take it, the red lyrium in their body consumes them. If they do... death still comes to them." She sighed. "We must question him, then execute him—and dispose of the body safely so that it will not contaminate the earth."
"We mages can burn it with our hottest fire," Max said. "That worked at the crater in Haven."
They roused Fornier from his artificial sleep and stood back as he became aware of his confinement in the heavy armor. The Red Templar glowered at them and bared his teeth in anger as he realized his predicament.
"Enough," Leliana said, striding forward, her voice shockingly cold. Max did a double take; wasn't this to be his interrogation? But she let no one else have a word in. "Former Knight-Captain Fornier. You have survived when better men and women fell in Haven due to the attack by your friends who are serving Corypheus. That will not be the case for much longer, but before you die, you are going to answer our questions."
To their surprise, the Red Templar laughed, a cynical, triumphant cackle. Blood trickled from a break in his skin down his neck. He grinned at them. "I'll answer your questions, all right. It won't stop the Elder One. Nothing can, certainly not a pathetic rabble like this." His death's-head grin widened. "Or do you think the Maker is with you? If so, I got news for you about that."
"Enough," Leliana snarled again, and Max thought he detected a note of pain in the word. "Our questions are not about your deranged worship of this ghoul, and that is all he is, an ancient ghoul with delusions of grandeur. We have questions about important matters, namely red lyrium and his plans for it."
Max decided to sit back and let her handle it, since she was determined to. She would probably do it better than he would, anyway. Interrogating a prisoner was a hard task and Leliana had become a hard woman.
The handful of Red Templars who had accompanied the Venatori to Haven were far from the only ones in Corypheus's service. In fact, Fornier revealed that the companies that had fled Starkhaven behind Samson and Carroll had grown in size since their disappearance at the end of the Mage-Templar War the previous autumn.
"And where are they?" Leliana barked coldly. She drew a sharp knife from her belt and held it threateningly next to his left ear.
Cassandra's eyes widened. "Don't get too close, Leliana—"
"You ever heard of the Emprise du Lion?" Fornier responded.
"It is in Orlais. Is that where they are?"
"I don't know if that's where all of them are—the Elder One might have sent some of them elsewhere—but that's where they're making new ones. There's a quarry around a village called Sahrnia." He laughed, and his eyes gleamed in the dungeon light. "Place is doomed, and it'll still be doomed even if you try to rescue them." His laughter grew louder. "In fact, you do that, 'Herald,'" he said with a mocking leer to Max. "You go there and try to play the hero. It will make things easier for the Elder One to wipe you off his world like the smears you are. It's too late for the Emprise. Carroll wrote to us that the red lyrium was burrowing deep in the ground."
"And this," Leliana said in contempt, "is what you worship now: a ghoul who means to corrupt the world as he takes it over. This is what has replaced the Maker in your pathetic mind."
Max knew suddenly that was a mistake, and sure enough, Fornier leered at her with that ugly grin, blood trickling between broken teeth down darkened gums. "What's replaced the Maker in your mind since you lost faith, Sister? Nothing, ain't it? So who's actually worse off?"
Max, Sebastian, Cullen, and Josephine gasped as Leliana's knife sliced through Fornier's ear. The fleshy shell fell to the ground with a soft plop, and dark blood poured from the hole in his head. Rainier, Varric, Cassandra, and Vivienne were not shocked, Max noted vaguely. He raised his gaze to the steely-eyed, cold-faced woman in chain mail, the bloody knife in her hand, as she glowered at the bleeding prisoner.
But Fornier seemed to feel no pain anymore—that or the red lyrium taking over his body and bruising him from within drowned out all other pain. He didn't even attempt to stop the bleeding. He just smirked at her, pleased to have provoked her to such an act.
"Who hurts worse?" he whispered thickly. "Me, or you, Sister?"
"Enough!" she snapped, sheathing her knife and coming back to herself. "You are the one being interrogated, Red filth." She glared at him. "What is Carroll doing in the Emprise du Lion to make more Red Templars? Feeding it to villagers he's taken prisoner or impressed into working the quarry?"
"That and other things. He's got giants there."
Red Templar giants, Max thought with a shudder. Varric also exchanged an uncomfortable look with Cassandra.
Sebastian spoke up, his usually friendly face shockingly hard and angry. "The first surge of Red Templars, from Tantervale and Starkhaven—those who fought the Free Mages in the Mage-Templar War. Did Carroll and Samson create them in this same way?"
Max raised his eyebrows. Sebastian had been on that side during the Mage-Templar War; didn't he know such information himself? Or had he been kept in the dark about the details? It must be the latter, Max realized—otherwise Sebastian would not have such a desire for revenge against the foul order.
"Ah, the traitor prince speaks," Fornier smirked. "They were part of it, Samson mostly. But they couldn't do it alone."
"Who helped them?" Sebastian growled.
"Eh... the Orthodox Chantry, Orthodox Divine I ought to say, hired some crazy surface dwarf."
"I was extremely close to her and I never heard of such a person," Sebastian snarled.
"From what I hear, you never heard of a lot of things until after the fact," Fornier sneered. "Maybe you weren't as close to her as you want to believe! This dwarf was named... Dagna, that's her name. Elthina hired her out of some Tevinter Circle back in early 9:38. That'd be why she kept it secret from you, traitor prince," the Red Templar leered. "It wasn't about faith for Dagna. It was about research. Samson came to Tantervale not knowing anything about red lyrium except what he'd learned from Meredith, who was the subject of her own experiment. Elthina wanted someone who could 'perfect' red lyrium. Belief in her little creed wasn't important. That's why you never knew."
Sebastian was gobsmacked—and horrified. So, Max noted, was Leliana.
"We met Dagna briefly during the Blight," she muttered. "She wanted to go to the surface to study magic—not to cast, of course, but to study the theory. Elissa helped her enter the Fereldan Circle as a guest scholar. If I had known that this was what would come of it..." She shook her head in anger.
Max turned to Fornier, determined to ask at least one question himself. "Where is she now?"
"Still in Tantervale, last I heard. Unless the Elder One has her in his service now," he added with a chuckle. "He'll get her, 'Herald.' He always gets what he wants eventually."
"We shall see about that," Cassandra spoke up loudly. "Come. Cullen, I am afraid I must ask you to see to this man's execution—and summon some Free Mages to burn his body thoroughly—but we are done here."
As they trudged up the stairs, Sebastian spoke in angry tones, which surprised Max, considering how devastated he had appeared when Fornier told him about Elthina hiring Dagna for red lyrium work. "I was blind to the magnitude of the Red Templars' corruption until the very last," he said. "I knew they existed, but I did not know what they were actually doing with the substance. Elthina kept me in the dark about the fact that red lyrium consumed their bodies." His gaze hardened. "And as we have now learned, also about her early plans for them. She did it because she knew that I would disapprove. She hid other things from me too until after the fact, the terrible Annulments, the Satinalia Massacre, the attempt on Divine Justinia's life... for the same reason."
"Prince Sebastian," Josephine began soothingly.
He shook his head, determined not to accept comfort. "I care not that this Dagna was not Andrastian, but I do care that Elthina hired her to 'perfect' this vile substance early in the war. That suggests that she was more complicit, and less of a victim of the Red Templars herself, than I have wanted to believe."
Varric raised his eyebrows at this statement, the first negative thing he had ever heard the prince say about Elthina.
Leliana's mind was elsewhere. "The Chancellor of Tantervale is a bit of an idiot, no offense, Your Highness," she said to Sebastian.
"None taken. He is an ally, but it is true, sadly."
She nodded. "But we do need to bring Dagna here before Corypheus finds her. I must ask you to give me the names of other contacts in Tantervale, who might know where she is and could get her out without revealing her."
"To bring her to justice?" Max asked in hard tones. Sebastian appeared to agree with that idea, as did Varric and Vivienne.
However, Leliana seemed surprised at the question. "We shall see."
Sebastian, Leliana, and Josephine worked to leverage their contacts in Tantervale, and in short order, Dagna was found. They made arrangements for her to be taken to Skyhold.
The entire process took several weeks, and throughout it all, Max barely spoke to Dorian. The Tevinter mage was distantly friendly with him, but their previously growing rapport was gone.
As the days passed, Max found himself in a conflicting mix of emotions. He resented that Dorian was making no attempt to rethink his views about slavery, to consider that Max might have had a point. If he chooses a belief like that over a closer friendship—or more—with me, then I don't suppose I've lost much, Max thought angrily during these moments.
But at other times, he thought that perhaps he should make the first move and apologize. One could apologize for hurting someone's feelings with a principled stand while not apologizing for holding that principle. Perhaps he had been too harsh in his verbiage, he supposed in those moments. Perhaps Dorian had had slaves in his bed and had taken Max's remarks personally. Perhaps he thought Max had called him a rapist, if so. And he would have reason to think so, Max thought unhappily. I made no exceptions. If he has done that, I did call him a rapist. Maybe I should apologize.
But the unavoidable truth then interfered. I meant what I said about master-slave "relationships," though. And Dorian knows I meant it. He won't believe it if I tell him that I didn't mean him. He'll know I did, and that I'm only sorry that it hurt his feelings. He'll know I'm not apologizing for my beliefs... because I don't think they are wrong, and for this particular belief I can't make an exception just because I like him. For some ideals I could put my friends ahead of my beliefs, but not this one. I can say I'm sorry I upset him, but I can't say I believe this about every slaveholder in Tevinter except him. And he will know that.
Max realized that the only chance was if his words didn't apply personally to Dorian and he had taken offense on behalf of his family or homeland instead.
Dorian is like me, Max thought. He has to be. He might even be like Lady Cousland is said to be, exclusively attracted to his own sex. And since that isn't accepted in high Tevinter society, what are the odds that I haven't personally insulted him? What is the chance that I haven't accused him of rape?
Max sighed. It did not seem very hopeful. At the moment, all he could use to occupy his mind were his friendships and his duties.
At last Dagna arrived at Skyhold. Max was feeling hard and resigned these days, and he was fully prepared to have her questioned, tried, and executed for her role helping the Orthodox Chantry schism create Red Templars. When he actually saw her for the first time—a cheerful, somewhat goofy young dwarven woman, not a bright-eyed fanatic or cold sociopath—his resolve wavered.
He remembered his dispute with Dorian. If I can cut off a growing friendship and possibly even romance because of an ideal that I can't compromise on, I mustn't let an innocent-looking young face sway me in this case either. His expression hardened again, and he prepared to order Dagna to be imprisoned in a holding cell, when Rainier tapped his shoulder.
"You gave me a chance to make amends for the wrong I did," the Warden told him in an undertone. "And I meant to have those innocents slain. I knew what I ordered. I'm not so sure she meant for her studies to be used in the way they were."
Max glanced at Dagna, who was chattering animatedly with Adan and Minaeve even as Cullen's soldiers had firm grips on each of her shoulders. The Inquisition scholars were not put off by her remarks, whatever they were, either.
"We have a problem in the Emprise du Lion," Rainier continued, "and she might be able to help us, Trevelyan. She might know more about the filth than anyone else in Thedas, except Samson and Carroll themselves. And she doesn't look to be evil like them. This is an opportunity we won't see again."
A memory of a different day suddenly slammed into his mind. "The evidence of guilt is quite literally on his hand! We must end the threat at once." It was the voice of Cassandra, angry, personally vindictive, and ready to condemn in a way that could not be undone. Ready to make a terrible mistake.
Max recoiled. I will not become that just because I have power now.
He stole another glimpse at Dagna. Adan and Minaeve still were not troubled or disturbed at all by their conversation. In fact, the three of them reminded him of mage scholars back in the Circle library, talking and exchanging ideas eagerly about some theoretical topic.
Skyhold has an extensive magical library and Dorian likes to spend time there...
Max shoved the thought out of his mind, but it was too late; he had already briefly replaced Dagna with Dorian in his imagination. And with that, his decision was made.
"Dagna," he said, approaching her. She stopped chattering with Adan and Minaeve and looked up ingenuously at him. "Welcome to Skyhold. We have been informed that you were deeply involved in working with red lyrium for the northern Marcher Chantry schism."
Dagna nodded, looking ashamed, but also not inclined to dissemble. "I do regret what they used my studies for, Herald—or is it Inquisitor now?"
"Either."
She nodded to herself. "But I don't regret the study itself. Knowledge is just that. We choose what we do with it. The Marcher Divine... or, I guess, she was a false Divine?" She frowned contemplatively. "She told me that they were fighting mages who wanted to destroy the Circles. The Hero of the Blight got me introduced to a Circle, the one in Ferelden. There were all sorts of fascinating books there, knowledge, study opportunities. And I had worked for a Tevinter Circle too, Tine Tower, which had even nicer things. She said she was fighting people who wanted to destroy the Circles, so I didn't see anything wrong with working for her..." She gave him a surprisingly bitter look. "I guess that's not exactly what it turned out to be, but that's what she told me at first. I came from Orzammar, so I didn't see anything bad about Circles then, and I still don't fully understand all the politics of your Chantries..."
Max suppressed a sigh. Dagna was indeed a true innocent when it came to the moral issues of the Mage-Templar War, let alone the religious differences among the three Chantries that had existed at the time. It truly had been just about research for her. In fact, it had been so exclusively about research in her mind that it hadn't even occurred to her that the people she was working for might do terrible things with her work. With her background, she hadn't known enough facts about the two sides in the war to foresee that.
If I were uprooted and dropped in—say—Tevinter prior to the Breach, would I have fared any better? Max thought darkly. Might I have decided to work for the Venatori if they had offered what seemed like a good opportunity? I likely wouldn't have known any better either. They might have exploited me as thoroughly as Elthina exploited Dagna.
No, he couldn't put her to death.
He finally managed to reply. "There are followers of the Orlesian and the Tevinter Chantries here in Skyhold, and one thing we all agree upon now is that the woman who hired you was a false Divine." He thought for a moment about mentioning Sebastian Vael, but he was not sure what the prince's current beliefs about the late Elthina were anymore. They seemed to be in flux since Fornier's revelation. In any case, the Marcher schism didn't properly exist anymore, so Sebastian was back in the Orlesian Chantry. "But never mind that."
Dagna nodded again. "She hired me because Samson was the only person still living at the time who knew anything about red lyrium. He had this suit of armor that could shoot it from the gauntlets, which he said Tranquil in Tantervale had crafted for him, but they were all dead after handling it too much. And that was just an early version of the armor. There were several iterations..." She broke off. "She wanted me to produce reports for them about the properties of red lyrium and try, just in my lab mind you, to purify it." Her face fell. "I didn't realize they were feeding my experimental results to people until the Red Templars appeared in battle. And then it was too late."
"How did you avoid becoming contaminated with it yourself?"
She gave him a sideways smile. "Figuring that out was practically the first thing I researched, Inquisitor."
He considered that. "Well, I hope you can reproduce your results for us—and that you will also be willing to work to undo some of the damage that, unfortunately, your research for the schism inadvertently caused. There is apparently a big quarry and a massive field of red lyrium in a site in Orlais, and we want to try to get rid of it before it spreads even more."
Dagna beamed. "I didn't mean for harm to come of my work, and I'm totally on board with trying to fix it, Inquisitor. When are we going there?"
The Emprise du Lion.
Despite the fact that it was the height of summer, the Emprise was covered in ice and snow. It was south, but not that far south. Permanent year-round ice should not be on the ground anywhere except the uncharted regions south of the Korcari Wilds. Max's companions—who, for this venture, included the naturalist Minaeve, now finally recovered from her burns, and the arcanist Dagna—had much to say about the conditions.
"A frigid place covered in snow and ice? 'Let's bring Dorian!'"
Max wished that this jest had been directed personally to him, but Dorian still was distant—as cold as the environment surrounding them. His statements were general, addressed to anyone. It hurt.
"It is angry. The cold makes it less angry," Cole remarked.
Dagna replied as a scholar would. "The cold may have slowed its growth above the surface, but these conditions are causing the red lyrium to burrow even deeper into the soil to seek warmth below."
Minaeve concurred. "I have seen this in plants that live longer than a season. The roots of trees and shrubs burrow deep in wintertime in cold areas—particularly when there is not much ice or snow on the ground. Snow and ice provide some insulation from even colder conditions."
"So the snow and ice here are good?" Max asked.
"I wouldn't quite go that far, but the situation is not as bad as it might be," Dagna said carefully. "But freezing still is not a good solution, despite that it makes the red lyrium 'less angry.' It doesn't kill the roots; they are too deep in the soil, and it's not frozen except near the surface. In fact, the cold just drives the roots of this red lyrium deeper."
Dorian spoke up. "Then it sounds to me that we can evacuate the entire area—which we ought to do anyway, given how much this foul substance has spread—and have the Free Mages cast firestorms on it. A controlled burn."
"This is a very wide area," Varric said. "How are you going to get the mages who are inside the perimeter out? The fires they cast will combine into one massive firestorm—and that may well char the red lyrium, but it will also envelop them on all sides."
"True," Dorian agreed. "I wouldn't want to be in the middle of it. Dagna," he said, turning to her, "does red lyrium break down in corrosive chemicals?"
"Depending on the chemical, it can," she confirmed. "It is alive, so it can be killed, and extremely lethal poison is one way to do it. Lye or worse." She thought about it. "The Kirkwall poison would probably work too, if we had it. But there are many other kinds that are lethal quickly."
"So instead we could create large amounts of something and soak the entire ground in it," Dorian suggested.
Minaeve was scandalized. "That will kill everything else! Every tree, bush, every creature that cannot escape! That will cause environmental damage that won't fade for decades, if not longer! And if it got into the river..."
Dorian shrugged. "Red lyrium is doing far worse, and it will keep growing. The toxicity of poison will go away in time."
Max cut in. "She makes a good point about the river, though. About the mass firestorm idea—why would we have to cast firestorms in a ring? Why couldn't we just go east to west or north to south in a straight line? Nobody would get trapped that way."
"We... could," Varric said. "They'd have to be very careful, though."
"Let's look into that, then," Max said.
The Emprise was not just filled with spikes and slabs of red lyrium—which the mages in the group destroyed with fire wherever they saw them. It was also full of Red Templars and contaminated creatures. They took pleasure in killing the Red Templars, particularly Sebastian—though after the first few, Max recalled Fornier's claim that some of them had been Sahrnia villagers forced into "service." It was now largely impossible to sort out who was who, and they were all doomed as soon as the substance took hold in their bodies, anyway. But that reflection did put a damper on the vindictive pleasure that Max had been taking in slaying them. As for the poor wildlife, the only emotion any of them felt was sorrow.
The quarry was viler than anything they had seen in Haven. Even Varric, who had had the most exposure of anyone to red lyrium, had not seen anything this bad.
"Hawke and Blondie told me that there were some really bad sites, like under the Chantry of Hercinia," he confided. "They found dead Templars laid out in coffins, the lids up, the stuff growing from them and creating a red miasma in the air just like this." He waved his hands. "But I wasn't there."
Sebastian, Max noted, was appalled at this information, and the look on his face tightened yet further into grim resolve. "The Maker gave me a second chance for just this purpose," he said. "And I will work for the eradication of red lyrium from Thedas."
No one wanted to say it, but the Emprise situation was bad enough that it seemed doubtful that could happen.
They worked their way through the region, finally coming upon Suledin Keep, an ancient fortress dating from the days of the elven empire. It was a rambling, labyrinthine maze, very easy to get lost in—particularly with the overgrowth of plant life and the coating of snow.
The fortress was "home," of sorts, to the giants that Fornier had mentioned. They were corrupted with red lyrium, locked in cells. Some had already died, and others were in terrible pain.
"We have these things in Tevinter," Dorian remarked after they put one out of its misery. "They're considered a pest species, and Tevinter mages have developed ways of dealing with them... but Maker, they're tough."
That, Max had discovered when they had had to fight one that had gotten loose. Even Iron Bull, by far the tallest and strongest of the party, had been injured in that fight. They all sported bruises and cuts. Max once again lamented the lack of mage Healers for the Inquisition. Elfroot medicine could help, but there was only so much it could do.
And all the evidence they had found so far pointed to another fight ahead. Carroll was not present in the Emprise—perhaps he had had advance word of their coming—but Max was not convinced that he was fully in charge of things anyway. It seemed that Corypheus had yet another demon in his service, and this demon had taken over much of the "cutting-edge" work with red lyrium in the Emprise, such as the experiments on the giants. Carroll might well have been relegated to being the foreman at the quarry. But Max thoroughly expected to meet a demon in the heart of the keep, and for that fight, they needed to be healed and rested first.
As Max stretched and tried to let the elfroot take effect, he noticed that Dorian sat down beside him. That made his heart thump with hope. He glanced around quickly; all the other companions were too far away to hear.
"You want to talk about it?" he asked in a low voice.
Dorian nodded, gazing ahead as if ashamed to face Max. "I thought about your views and... honestly, I see your point now. Individual kindness doesn't make it right for one person to have total power over the other."
"I'm sorry for my hard words," Max said, to his own surprise. "If they applied to your family... or... to you..." He broke off.
"You've been worried that you accused me of rape," Dorian said wryly. Max nodded. "Then rest more easily on that point. I haven't taken a slave to bed." He scowled. "My father did urge me to, because... well, as you likely guessed, I prefer the company of men. And it's as I said, that is not well received in altus society. I admit, I have visited brothels, and I am sure some of the workers there are enslaved... so... perhaps your words had some truth—"
"I didn't realize—"
Dorian waved that off. "I'm not particularly proud of it, Trevelyan."
"You can call me Max."
Dorian smirked. "As you say. But—yes. I visited brothels, but I wasn't proud of that, so I preferred to have flings with free men of my own social class, more or less. Truly scandalous," he said with a bitter smile. "And my father, my family, does own slaves. I do not own any in my own name, but I did grow up around slavery. I liked to think that they were always treated with kindness in my household. But you are right that my father has absolute power over them. And when you used the word 'rape'... well, you're not wrong. I knew it, too, when I refused my father's suggestion. I knew on some level, though I couldn't admit it. And when you said that word... I couldn't ignore that perhaps my family wasn't as kind to our slaves as I'd wanted to believe."
"I'm sorry," Max offered. "Sorry that you have to think of him so."
"My father and I have long had a... complicated relationship," Dorian snarled, and Max knew that this snarl was not directed at him, but at the father. He also knew that he was not going to get any additional information from Dorian about his father just yet. "But you want to love your parents no matter what they have done, you know?"
Max grimaced. "I... yes, there was a time."
Dorian raised an eyebrow at Max's use of the past tense, but he did not ask for details either. "The Imperium does not 'need' slavery in order to keep existing, but we have always had it, and people often do not like change."
Max laughed darkly. "Isn't that the truth? I see that in the Inquisition."
Dorian sighed. "So when you threw it in my face, no holds barred, I did not want to face it. I admire that about you, Tr—Max. You're not afraid to stand up for your beliefs."
"Are you?" Max said quietly.
Dorian stretched. "It's harder sometimes in Tevinter," he admitted. "Among my specific stratum of society, anyway. That's part of why I came to Haven."
"Escape?"
He nodded. "It seemed easier to do the right thing away from all that."
"Is it?"
"Actually, yes. For me. Though I'm sure it's different being Inquisitor."
Max thought about that. "It isn't easy," he confessed. Words began to burst out as if there was a direct line from his mind to his mouth, as if it were out of his control. "I have tried to do the right thing, to save as many innocents as I can. That's why I went to Therinfal. I knew there were some Templars there who hadn't taken red lyrium, who had remained with Justinia throughout the war, and I wanted to save them. I justified it because we already had an alliance with the Free Mages. But because of that decision, I couldn't save the mages at Winterwatch." He gazed unhappily at Dorian. "Because of my decision, you lost your mentor and would've lost Felix too if the Grey Wardens hadn't shown up in the snow. I might never have met you, for that matter, if you hadn't managed to escape in time to warn us."
"That's enough of that," Dorian said. "Magister Alexius made his own choice. I'm sure it feels like the world rests on your shoulders, but it doesn't. You are not responsible for everything that everyone else does." He rose to his feet and gave Max a wry smirk. "You just have to keep the Inquisition from turning bad, and eventually you'll probably have to kill Corypheus."
Max laughed cynically. "And the demon in this fortress?"
"Nah, for that you have our help."
When Max and his companions returned from Orlais, Petra and Lysas were waiting in Skyhold's great hall for them, wearing their light armor and looking very stern and military. Petra carried an official-looking scroll, and Max noticed the sigils of the Free Mages, Kirkwall, and VMTO affixed to it. He had a feeling he knew what was about to happen and what that scroll said.
He was not wrong. Petra approached him formally and presented him with the scroll.
"Inquisitor," she said, "as you can see, Viscountess Hawke has commanded our return to Kirkwall."
Max read the scroll. It was, unfortunately, as she said.
.
To Inquisitor Trevelyan and the Inquisition:
The Viscountess and Consort of Kirkwall, Commander and Enchanter-General of the Free Mages of Thedas, hereby invoke article 5 of our contract. We command all remaining mage soldiers of the Free Mage Army to depart from Skyhold and any other Inquisition installations at which they may be stationed, and to return to Kirkwall at once, without delay or hindrance.
The "crisis in Kirkwall or its allied cities" that we invoke is the ongoing presence of Corypheus and his forces. The Inquisition may be fighting them in Orlais, but they are present in the Free Marches as well. Venatori have been spotted south of the Minanter River near Tantervale, attempting to attack our cleanup force as it purges the area of the red lyrium our enemy used in the Battle of Tantervale. In addition, Margravine Campos of Hercinia has reported Venatori in her city.
Finally, we have received word that the Inquisition has not just conscripted the Templars and Seekers who did not take red lyrium, but has also hired an "arcanist" who previously worked for the so-called Orthodox Chantry to create Red Templars. We, the Viscountess and Consort of Kirkwall, are not pleased with this situation, and we will not have the Free Mages in such an environment.
Because we have fought and won a war for mage freedom, we grant the right to every mage to choose their own course. But any mages who voluntarily choose to stay behind will henceforth be considered members of the Inquisition rather than the Free Mages of Thedas. If such mages are not citizens of Kirkwall, they will not automatically be admitted back into the city; and if they are, they will undergo questioning about their activities in the Inquisition if they should decide to return home. Please be aware of this if any mages elect to stay with you.
Despite our decision to recall the Free Mages and our disapproval of the Inquisition's conscription choices, we do not consider the Inquisition a military enemy of Kirkwall or the Vimmark-Minanter Treaty Organization. However, Kirkwall, VMTO, and the Free Mages of Thedas will fight Corypheus in our own way, and will not take commands from an organization that hired one of the researchers responsible for unleashing Red Templars on Thedas. It does not matter if this Dagna was not a "true believer" and only found red lyrium a fascinating research and experimental topic—as Varric Tethras writes to us. Some doors should remain closed, even in the face of overweening curiosity.
We continue to pray for the Inquisition's success in defeating Corypheus's forces in Orlais and will work toward that same end in the Free Marches.
Sincerely,
Viscountess Caitlyn Hawke of Kirkwall, Commander of the Free Mages of Thedas
Lord Consort Anders Hawke of Kirkwall, Enchanter-General of the Free Mages of Thedas
.
Max was upset, but he would not dream of trying to stop the mages from leaving—much as it pained him. He handed the scroll back to Petra.
"But—the Emprise!" exclaimed Dorian from behind.
Max's heart sank. If Hawke and Anders were strict about their order, this was the end of his hopes to have the mages destroy the Emprise red lyrium by a massive firestorm. Frantically he turned to Petra.
"When we were in the Emprise, we had the idea of asking mages to cast firestorms across the region to purge it of red lyrium," he pleaded. Petra began to shake her head, but he continued in growing desperation. "They won't make an exception for that?"
"They said no delays," she said. "If we allowed this one, where would it end? I understand your point—red lyrium is truly vile—but fire doesn't have to come from a mage. You could craft firebombs... and you do have a few mages of your own to help it along. Yourself for one, Inquisitor."
Max sighed in resignation. "Then I appreciate your service," he said, "and the aid you gave us in Haven to close the Breach and fight the Venatori in the valley. I'm sorry to lose you. But we're all still fighting Corypheus, just in different places, and you must do as your leaders command."
Petra nodded. "They sent specific instructions to us," she said, "to march north to Jader where Kirkwall ships will be waiting to pick us up."
Max felt a lump in his throat. "I suppose you must make ready, then."
"I am afraid so."
"Best of luck in Hercinia and the battle plain near Tantervale."
Behind Max, someone muttered—he thought it was Cassandra—but he could not hear what she said. Petra also did not make it out, but she was accustomed to grouchiness from the Seeker, and she did not remark on it. She and Lysas rolled up the scroll and departed the main hall.
When they were definitely gone, Max's companions began speaking aloud, expressing their irritation at this new development.
"The claims about Venatori in the Free Marches are nothing more than an excuse," Cassandra said. "The real reason is our decision to conscript the Templars and bring on Dagna, but their contract required them to give a 'crisis' reason for recalling the Free Mages."
"There might actually be Venatori, Cassandra," Varric said.
"I am sure there are," she agreed, "but what I am saying is that this is just an excuse for Hawke and Anders. They already have over half of their army still in Kirkwall to deal with whatever threats may arise. They used the Venatori presence in the Free Marches as an excuse to pull the rest back."
"And they imply that if any mages chose to stay with us, we would dispatch them to Kirkwall to spy," Leliana said.
"And you're saying you wouldn't?" Varric said, eyebrows raised. "'Cause in that case, I'm calling bullshit."
"I would do it. It would be smart," Iron Bull said.
Leliana scowled. "Yes, it would be, but one cannot force espionage if someone is unwilling to become a spy."
"Hypocrites," Vivienne remarked, glowering. "Self-righteous hypocrites. 'Some doors should remain closed,'" she mocked. "Such as producing a terrible chemical weapon? They certainly had no objection to opening that door. It's not as if we are going to have Dagna make red lyrium weapons for us."
"I should hope not," Max said roughly. "It's like an infectious disease of the earth itself. As terrible as Kirkwall's poison gas is, it doesn't remain for very long and it doesn't grow. Red lyrium does. It feeds on life. We've hired Dagna to destroy the stuff, not make it for us."
There was a general murmur of approval, but Max noticed that Leliana had not replied. He looked around for her, but she had left the main hall.
So ends our association with the Free Mages, he thought unhappily. I wanted to be one of them, and then when I had to accept that I never would be, I hoped to be their friend as Herald and Inquisitor. So much for that too. At least I have friends of my own here. And I just hope that this Inquisition doesn't become enemies with Kirkwall, VMTO, or the Free Mages before this is over.
Notes: I decided to keep Dagna's canon history, including her winding up in Tantervale by 9:41 before the Inquisition recruits her. As appalling as the implications of that are for this AU—in which the erstwhile Orthodox Chantry schism, based in Tantervale, created Red Templars three years early—it just works far too well for me to reject it merely because I like Dagna. So. Yes. Dagna is partly responsible for the Red Templars who fought the mages in Spells. I'm not going to edit that completed story to insert mentions of her; I'll just say that "Fidelia" (Elthina) never spoke of her on-page because she did not want to say much about owing such knowledge to a non-Andrastian. In fact, Dagna has personal knowledge of Samson's armor. I'm sorry. But, like Sebastian, she can redeem herself here.