Salt pours onto the hard floor as melted iron flows in right afterwards.
Arturia pulls back the bag of mystical salt and ties it close, finishing the circle that leaves her with another feeling of nostalgia. The magical circle not dissimilar to that of a Summoning Circle, but its purpose certainly is.
Tevinter letters fills the circle, symbols that will be known as ancient given time. All ingredients and tools bought and waited for have accumulated at last to this final product; the smallest miscalculation, any extra weight or any extra pinch of ingredient, even a grain, or anything less than necessary could be the death of them. Arturia won't deny that she does feel concerned, but there's no turning back now. The only path left is forward.
She hears shuffling from behind her and turns to meet Dorian, carrying a new satchel he obtained from the market. "Feeling eager to go back home at last?"
Home. The question alone could bring about a multitude of answers and feelings. Home has long been gone, but here, lies the doorway to her new chapter in life. Arturia looks back at the circle, and soon nods assuringly.
"Very. I wonder if I could ask you the same thing," The knight's golden eyes flickers down to the satchel in Dorian's arms. "Souvenirs, or do you intend to stay?"
"Souvenirs, rest assured," Dorian promises with cheer, and presents his trophies by which he may or may not have swiped by his distant ancestor's discretion, or lack of general interest. "I just want to see the look of those faces when they see me carry ancient and long lost homeland tools in tip-top shape as if they had only been made yesterday. Can't tell whether that makes these worth more or less, but they'll certainly pull their hairs over how authentic it is. Which reminds me, I need you to carry this for me."
With an unnecessary amount of flourish, he reveals another satchel in his hand and without asking for permission, forcing it into Arturia's arms as he states, "Be careful. It would mean the end of everything if those happen to shatter."
Believing she was carrying dangerous chemicals, Arturia takes it upon herself to open the bag and investigate. "...Really, Dorian? Wine bottles?"
"The finest! And I'm not leaving this era without them," Defiantly replies the mage, lifting his chin up quite pompously at the unimpressed look being sent his way. "I only have so many hands, and thankfully there's no weight limit in our transport. It's best to take what we can get that would have otherwise be forever lost in our time."
"Didn't you argue about the fragility of time? And how one should be careful not to change so much in the past?" Arturia asks pointedly while raising a thin blonde brow.
"Oh yes. How careless of me! To think that I nearly caused our future to implode by bringing in wine bottles! You never know. A mage could have decided to drink this, be so inspired by it, he solved world hunger!" The Altus' sarcasm fills the air with exaggerated movements. "There's no need to worry. These are simply things that people won't miss. They have plenty of these in this era as is. We may not be able to change the past, but we can change our future. Think of it as if we're digging up lost artifacts but skipping a few steps... granted, going back in time is a bit dramatic, but as least we didn't have to dirty our hands - technically."
"I still don't see the purpose of getting this many wine bottles," Arturia retorts, taking a particularly expensive looking glass bottle and giving it a quick look over. "Granted, they're very good drinks, a little bit reminiscent of another batch I had a cup of a long time ago, even if they were served by a man I hated. But I digress. You cannot have me carry these for you to get drunk with. I believe we're past the master-servant charade."
"That we are, but I really, really want to them," Dorian simply argues back without an ounce of shame. "They're also parting gifts from Remerien, and I can't say I have the heart to deny gifts from family."
Arturia sighs, unable to come up with a counter to that or more accurately, not wanting the effort into doing so at the moment.
"I've also discovered something very interesting during our time here," Dorian suddenly announces, lifting the satchels over his back, "While I was in the city library, reading through what would eventually be lost texts and scrolls, I stumbled upon this apparent fact of this era that's no longer common knowledge in our own. Question: how many constellations of dragons are there?"
Arturia frowns as she thinks back her lessons with Josephine, the Antivan woman she stills remembers the face of, and has been missing quite dearly along with several other people. "There are seven constellations."
"Well, you'd be correct, but here, you'd actually be wrong. I didn't even know about this as well until recently. As it turns out, there are in fact actually Eight Constellations of Dragons. Not seven. Each of these constellations representing one of the Old Gods. Can you imagine that? An eighth God who we knew nothing about! I wonder if there simply weren't enough followers? Or perhaps the fall of the empire had consequently buried this God along with the rest of history."
Arturia looks quite surprised at that, turning to Dorian fully while putting the glass in her hand back in the satchel. "Who is this eighth god?"
"That's what I wanted to know. Unfortunately, the library had been closing at the time and I couldn't look into it further. It had also nothing to do with getting us back home, so as interesting as it was, I ended up putting it aside. Oh dammit, I should have brought a few more books along. I doubt even in the past, there hasn't been at least a few books that's past it's return date."
He sighs, looking at the room and the shelved books and scrolls around them. "There's so much knowledge here that we didn't know, or won't be able to know. All of this. Here and within reach, and then suddenly..."
"It's all gone," Arturia finishes with a soft voice of sympathy, her eyes lowering for a brief moment, "As it happens when any kingdom meets its end."
"Sad to say, but yes," Dorian nods somberly, allowing a hint of sadness at the inevitability of said fate. "I can't say whether it would have been for the better or for the worse, but it's undeniable that the Tevinter Empire grew too big, too ambitious. Whether it would have been good or not, especially comparing it to our future, it was a lesson for all of us, that no one should have so much power in one place, in one hand."
Hearing that, Arturia takes a glance at her own hand, where her Mark remains. The Tevinter mage realizes the implication of his words, and makes quick work to recover the damage.
"Let me rephrase," Dorian states, letting out a quick cough into his fist before going on again. "While I don't think one person should have so much power, for instance, you can't really trust me with a pair of slippers, there may be someone who are proven to be worthy of handling said power. As long as one doesn't abuse it so much. I think, after getting to know you for as long as I have now, while we were stuck here, I can safely say that - for someone as young as you are - you truly hold a valiant heart who takes her duties seriously. I look forward to seeing you grow. No doubt, you are a capable leader, just as I have heard in rumors."
Arturia recalls the nightmare vision she had to endure back at Therinfal Redoubt. Her corrupted self in that black armor and mask. A vision she would never wish for it to come true. "Perhaps, but you are not wrong that no one should hold this much power alone. Not I, not Alexius, and certainly not this Elder One who wishes to become a God. The only thing that gives me ease that I won't find myself falling into a dark path is the company I've surrounded myself in. Or, more accurately to say, the people who have founded me, and I'm grateful everyday that they did."
The knight suddenly lets out a small smile.
"I don't desire to be alone ever again. I'll share my burdens with the people I've come to trust now. That includes you, Dorian. I hope that, after we return, you will continue to aid the Inquisition. We could use someone as honorable and skillful as you to help us in our mission."
"I'd be honored to accept such an invitation," Dorian states, giving a bow to the knight that was half mocking, half serious. "Frankly, I was going to do that regardless. With the Breach, you'll be needing all the help you can get, but I'm glad to make it official. Rejoice, Sir-Lady Pendragon, the most promising, handsome, and wittiest mage of all Tevinter, now raise his staff in service of the Inquisition."
Arturia bows her head back respectfully at Dorian, and just then, another voice cuts in. Remerien walking down the steps of the basement they stand in. "Apologies, friends. I've been preoccupied with preparations for a guest of the utmost importance who will be coming shortly. I can no longer delay this meeting. If you want to leave today, now is the time. I regret our parting cannot be anymore momentous as this."
The Tevinter magister held out his hands and shook them with Dorian and Arturia. "It's been a compelling several weeks. I wish our time could extend, but the Old Gods have given you a mission, and you must answer it."
"It's been an utmost pleasure, Remerien," Dorian states, a familial warmness in his voice and expression. A hint of sorrow for parting with a dear friend. "My only regret is that we can never repay you the debt of your aid in sending us home. Instead, you have our deepest thanks."
"Oh, believe me, the debt has been repaid. You made my life more lively!" Remerien assures with a fond chuckle. "To think that I am a witness of what was believed to be a disproven theory. And now, I'm about to accomplish what no magister has ever done. I'll hold onto this forever, and the two of you in my memories forever, even if no one else must ever know of this."
Their time together has forged their bond into that of not only friends, but family. A timeless relation between those of the past and future. Remerien turns back to Dorian, and grants the man a hug. The mage of the future is clearly surprised by the gesture, having only experienced this sort of friendliness from his own one friend, and then slowly he returns the hug with his own.
"Goodbye, dear uncle."
"Farewell, my nephew. Save the future."
They release each other and then Remerien turns to Arturia, "I don't know what you are, but I believe you only have the best intentions in mind. There must be a reason why you were given that strange power in your hand, and I believe you are going to meet that reason soon. I have no doubt that you are destined for great things, Arturia Pendragon."
Destiny. Or fate? Either way, Arturia is determined to mark her own destiny, and ensure her nightmare will never meet reality. For the people of Thedas, she will bring everyone to a brighter future. The knight nods resolutely at the magister, giving a respectful bow of her head to the man. "I am grateful to you for allowing us into your home. It has been an honor, sir Remerien."
After saying their goodbyes, Remerien then helps Dorian and Arturia in opening up the portal. Their staffs are raised up high in the air, and at the same time, they channel magic into the circle.
Ancient words began to spill from Remerien, Arturia overhearing the magister's and is able to understand his chanting.
"-Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Repeat five times. Once filled, simply shatter."
It is a spell that rings all too familiar in Arturia's heart. A call of the past, to be pulled into the future. The summoning, or resummoning, of the King of Knights and the mage by her side.
'Who taught him these words in this world?'
The echoes of time began to screech through. Arturia feels her marked hand rumble and crackle with pure magic as a portal began to split open into swirling green energy. They hold their position for a moment longer. Putting power into the portal, controlling it, letting it flow, until they could feel a connection between the past and future.
"Go! Now!"
The knight and mage share a look, and nod.
They lower their staffs and rush for the portal, leaping into the entry, vanishing from sight, along with the portal.
Remerien is blasted away from the aftermath of the impossible magic at work. He slams into the bookshelves, completely shattering through the woods. He coughs through the smokes of the casted magic, and hastily looks back at the circle.
His two visitors of the future are gone, leaving him to wonder if they made it through. "Gods... Guide them in their venture."
He stands up then, groaning at the pain at his back, but a little bit of healing magic alleviates it. He calls down his servants to clean up the mess, and who answers is the mother elf whom Arturia had rescued from the market, no doubt having just put her child to bed in the sleeping quarters.
After a while and helping with the clean up, careful to tread around the planted magical ingredients that only an experienced magister can handle, another servant came down the stairs and spoke to Remerien. "Master, a visitor has come."
Remerien had just finished his cleaning of the circle and nods, "I'll see to it at the living room then."
"Yes Master. Dinner has also been prepared."
With another nod, Remerien bid the elf to help with the rest of the cleaning, and goes back up the stairs to meet his esteemed guest of the night.
Remerien sits at the end of a long, extravagant, and truly expensive looking table that had multiple plates of foods of all sorts across it, fit for a party of monarchs. Yet even for this impressive variety of meats, breads, fruits, and vegetables, there seated only two people at the dining table. Remerien himself, and his guest.
The magister of House Pavus savors his bite of the sirloin, cooked medium-rare as he preferred, yet looking over to his guest, longtime associate, and even longer friend, he sees the other man's served plate is being left untouched. "You've not once eaten your food. Has your journey for divinity made you forgo earthly desires and necessities, Corypheus?"
The seated guest is silent as he simply stares at his plate.
"You have been in deep contemplation all throughout dinner," Remerien notes, the silence proving to be increasingly unnerving with each mounting moment. "Please, share with me your troubles, and if I may know, why are you in your more... public form? You never needed to around me. You have even implored me to dismiss all my servants. Is it awful news?"
His voice echoes throughout the hall, proving that is indeed without any servants, all sent into their resting quarters upon the request of his honored guest.
"...My reasons may be beyond your understanding at the moment, but soon, you will know everything." The man most know as Corypheus at last responds, adjusting himself in his chair into a more poise position. "It is nothing so ailing. I simply prefer for us to discuss in private, as what I have in mind is not for the endeavorless. Yet, before I do, have you been delving into more of your experiments, Remerien? I feel residues of magic from where I stand."
Remerien remains calm as he pauses his eating to answer, dabbing his mouth with his handkerchief. "Oh yes. Forgive me, friend. I had hoped the wards I set up were strong enough to prevent any scent of it. So not to deter your appetite."
"You should know that such a thing, however impressive they are, would not be enough to hide my senses," Corypheus answers in a chiding manner, not unlike a parent finding out that their child put their hand in the cookie jar. "I must say, though, they are quite potent, much more than before. Did you intend to offer your home to the Gods? Aiming to reach the Golden City before us, are we?"
"The only thing that ended up soaring was myself, and a broken bookshelf is what ended up being the result," Remerien answers with a stiff roll of his shoulders, making an effort to be as showy as possible to throw off any suspicion. "That's the last time I'll dare get too close to one of my experiments. It felt as if I was close to discovering something, but it seems I went beyond my calculations."
"You most certainly reek of it. Then do I take your efforts as rekindled interest?"
"Excitement, more like. And more so out of dread that I as a man would inevitably fall behind, should everything go according to plan. Even still, I am only more determined than ever to continue my research here on my personal domain." Remerien replies before swiftly changing the subject. "Speaking of which, how goes the process?"
Corypheus mood shifts slightly from his playful demeanor and into a more serious tone. "It's beginning to happen. Our plans to enter the Golden City are nigh. The Old Gods gave us their blessings, and we shall see the heavens where no man has ever set foot. Even the Architect of the Works of Beauty sent us a message, confirming his aid."
"Then you do intend to pierce through the Veil," Remerien declares, worry creased his brows. "But is that so wise? Surely we are all aware of the risks, and I know I've given you my share of thoughts. But will there truly be no consequences to your venture?"
"Dumat has not failed me once, and so my faith will remain unwavering." At that devoted proclamation, Corypheus then removes his glove. Strange runes, glowing markings all around his hand, pulsating inhuman power. "A new age will be upon us. And you will be a witness to it. There still lies a seat for you, Remerien. Will you not let me avert your mind yet? Godhood awaits us all."
"It pains me to deny you, old friend. But my own God has not given their blessing. I'm worried about this. And I fear that it is a sign that something is afoot."
Remerien then unveils his own hand, removing the glove to reveal similar markings as the one Corypheus holds.
The very same markings Remerien saw on Arturia's chest when she was first discovered in this world, and the reason why he helped her and Dorian as much as he did.
The elves had been tending to any injuries of the girl when she first appeared in this era, and then they discovered that mangy scar, informing Remerien immediately that this girl was blessed by her, and that she needed to return to once she came from to finish whatever business she has had them doing. With how sharp-eyed that knight was, he'd been worried his lie of never seeing more than what his magic couldn't find would have been seen through, but thankfully that did not come to pass.
"Unfortunate, but I suppose there are many things you remain attached to in this world," Corypheus sighs, clearly disappointed but accepting of Remerien's decision, concealing his marked hand again. "Very well, I will respect your choice. Enjoy your struggle as a mortal for however long you may have it. I will leave you in charge of my estate while we journey beyond the Veil. This may be the last time we will ever speak to each other."
With that, Corypheus stands up from the chair and heads for the exit. "But if not, I hope to see your soul into the Golden City, and I may invite you to my own dinner table then, if fate proves to be so generous."
"I hope for that greatly. Farewell, it is then, my friend. May the Gods watch over you, as they welcome you in their home."
With that, Remerien bids Corypheus goodbye, and the mysterious figure left, leaving Remerien to his pondering, sitting in the chair.
'The weakening of the Veil most certainly explains how Arturia and Dorian ended up here.' The man sighs, 'Oh how I wish I could know what happens in their time. But... it's not mine to worry about. It is theirs. However...'
He looks at his unconcealed hand once more, tracing his thumb across the glowing markings. 'That they were here as a sign of distortion and discord... I may be at the foot of the source of their trouble.'
Arturia feels the rush of magic flow through her Magic Circuits, clenching the staff in her hand.
Her entire being rushes through the river of time, and its effects coursing into her system. Her face cools by its splash, and the turmoil in her heart cleanses. Dowsed in the waters of unchanging history, she reemerges from where she and Dorian last stood in their era, renewed and refreshed. Onto the ever shifting tides of the present, their future once more undetermined.
The King of Knights and the Pavus Mage of Tevinter stand in front of the swirling dark green fog of magic, and they look upon the scene before them.
The companions and allies of the Inquisition stand from all sides, and looks upon the duo in wonder and relief at the arrival of the differently dressed knight and mage. Solas in particular looks to have a flash of understanding in his eyes, glancing at the staff in Arturia's hold before simply nodding at her, as if to say 'welcome back'.
Arturia couldn't help but smile at the sight of her allies, realizing how much she has truly missed them.
Varric. Iron Bull. Blackwall. Harding. They all look at her with various expressions, all of them impressed. For it seemed to them, she had disappeared for a brief moment, only to waltz back into their reality with apparent ease.
'Oh, the stories I have to tell them...'
The knight then turns her attention to the sole magister left alive in the room. There stands the man who had sent her and Dorian on quite a ride, even if that was far from the intended result, with the stunned expression of Alexius before them saying it all. It feels as if it has been ages since Arturia has seen this man. She ought to punish him right here and now, yet she finds her heart without any anger. Even for all the damage he has done, seeing him here and now, looking utterly defeated just at the very sight of her survival, and her having all the time in the past to think over everything, she could only feel pity for this magister.
She twirls her staff and swings its end to her back. The pole clanks against her armor like a gavel as she states unfettered, "I'll say it one more time: it's over."
"You'll certainly have to do better than that if you want to kill this feisty little lioness," Dorian speaks up afterwards, with one being able to hear the smirk in his tone of voice.
With nothing left up in his sleeve, Alexius merely drops to his knees. His face looks completely heartbroken.
"I ask you, Alexius," Arturia firmly demands with all of the presence of a monarch, mercy taking hold as her staff remains lowered. "Do you surrender?"
The magister looks upon the anomaly in shining armor, and sighs brokenly full of despair and defeat, "You won. There's no point extending this charade."
All members of the Inquisition in the room look upon the clearly surrendering magister, and all lower their weapons. Here, the madness of Redcliffe finally comes to an end.
Felix walks to his father's side, his eyes showing only compassion and love for the man whose own grief and desperation drove him to the dark arts. The old magister looks up at his son, and can only say his name in apology, in both the magister's failure and actions, "Felix..."
"It's going to be alright, father," Felix assures as he kneels down, smiling sadly at Alexius.
Tears well up in the old man's eyes as he chokes out, "But you'll die..."
"Everyone dies, father," Felix responds sympathetically, with acceptance and finality. "It's only a miracle to have our remaining days be with the people you love."
The doomed son outstretched his arms and holds his father close. The magister accepts his warmth, and manages to hold back his cries as he hugs his son. Soldiers of the Inquisition approach them, and after allowing them a moment, the magister is let go, and Alexius stands up. He turns to the soldiers and simply offers his hands to them in silence.
As the soldiers bind the magister's hands, the companions of the Inquisition all hurry up to Arturia and Dorian to check up on them.
"Damn! That might be the best magic trick I've ever seen," Iron Bull declares, laughing good heartedly at the sight of Arturia's unharmed state. "Good to see you back. You too, pretty boy."
"Oh man, I was about to have a heart attack!" Harding pipes up beside the looming qunari, letting out a huge sigh of relief. "You really got us going there."
"I won't lie, you gave us quite a fright, disappearing like that," Blackwall confesses, smiling in relief as well.
"Nice staff. Looks like I'll be needing to revamp a few details in some of my works," Varric chuckles, walking up and knocking on the new staff Arturia holds close.
Solas smoothly steps up to the returned pair as well, eyeing Arturia up and down. A subtle look of content on the elf, "It seems you're back to normal."
He points at her eyes. Arturia blinks in surprise at the action, understanding quickly what he is implying. She summons her sword and then holds it up in front of her face to see her reflection.
The golden irises of her draconic blood are gone and her more familiar, more approachable emerald eyes returned. Her humanity is restored, the lingering trauma of the Envy Demon now appeased. An after-effect of having jumped through time twice perhaps?
"Welcome back, you two," Solas continues on, smiling at the knight and the other mage. "I take it you had quite an adventure?"
Arturia gazes back up at the elf mage, her emerald eyes regarding the others in the room, and another genuine smile forms on her features as she nods at the group. "We most certainly did, and all I can say... is that there's no place I'd rather be than here."
The group is warmed by her words, and they match her smile.
The Iron Bull reaches out and gives a noogie to the knight's head. Harding laughs at the sight as Blackwall stands close, looking for any injuries on Arturia, who is flailing about like a fish out of water. Quite obviously not used to the physical affection displayed by the hearty qunari, and the warden couldn't help but chuckle behind his beard.
This is when Varric decides to stand beside Dorian, looking up at the man.
"What's with all that stuff you're carrying? Pretty sure you didn't have any of that when you got here."
"Oh, believe me, it is a long, long story. Even if it may only seem like seconds to all of you," Dorian looks back over to Arturia, who meets his gaze, and unspoken understanding between them, feeling glad to have come home after so long. "All things considering, I think everything turned out fairly well-"
Their eyes then flicker to the entrance of the throne room, where they hear the sounds of several marching footsteps heading their way.
"...or not."
The group is forced to end their celebration early as groups of soldiers walk into the throne room. Heavily armored men and women announcing their presence and promptly take their position in front of each pillar. Arturia calls for her reasonably worried and still on-guard Inquisition to stand down, sensing no hostility from the sudden arrival of these armed forces, and she immediately recognizes the two different sigils they carry - each representing a different ruler. Her green eyes then turn for the approaching pair at the end of the room.
"No way..." Varric's eyes widen in total the recognition of one of them.
"Oh, this ought to be good..." Iron Bull mutters. Both Blackwall and Solas appear to be the calmest out of all of them, yet they too visibly tense at who is approaching. The only one who truly seems unfazed is Dorian, who seems to be deciding if he should either bow or hide, and Arturia, who gazes back at the walking monarchs unflinching, willing her sword away.
Here comes the most important people to ever set foot in Redcliffe on this day. A woman of blond hair tied into a tight bun and a regal dress of royalty, and a tall man with bright red hair, wearing his leather fur coat. All that is missing is a crown to declare both their status. But then again, so is Arturia.
"Grand Enchanter," King Alistair coldly greets the frozen elf mage, who seems to have grown paler than usual. "Imagine how surprised I was to learn that you have given away Redcliffe castle to a Tevinter Magister? Thankfully, Queen Anora and I came to a consensus, especially after hearing how the magisters have been threatening her people."
"K-King Alistair! Queen Anora!" Fiona sputters out, a brief burst of her feet to approach the king before she forced herself to stop. Hands clasped together nervously as if to hold something back. A strange look in her eyes that seems to imitate horror at the sight of the king, but in fact, there is something deeper than that. Arturia is able to notice it, hearing the woman's voice askew both shocked yet gentle. Not simply out of respect, but... familiarity?
"Grand Enchanter Fiona," The queen addresses the mage, contempt evident in her voice and expression. "When I granted your mages sanctuary, I thought it was understood that they would not force my people from their homes."
"Y-Your Majesties. Please, let me assure you. We never intended any of this-"
"Perhaps not when it comes to the magisters, but I know what you intended," Alistair interrupts her, and the disappointment is evident in his eyes, softening in sorrow and betrayal, "I wanted to help you, but you made it impossible."
"And I should have never helped you," Anora adds in, just as disappointed but clearly more furious at the perceived betrayal. "Now, you left me no choice: I am rescinding my offer of sanctuary. You are to leave Redcliffe, and once that's done..."
"You are to leave Ferelden, at once. By orders of Queen Anora, and myself," Alistair concludes, solemn, but completely resolute and unmoving.
The blow of his words shocks Fiona, and she nearly stumbles back as if they physically struck her, "Your Majesties! I beg your pardon. We have hundreds who need protection! We... We have nowhere else to go."
Hearing her voice of desperation, Arturia walks up to the elf woman's side, "Not nowhere. While Alexius' intentions have been folly. Yours is true. If you are willing to stand back in as leader of the Mages, we will continue as what we have arrived here to do."
"...To formally sign a peace treaty with the Templar Order, and join the Inquisition," Fiona generalizes, looking to Arturia with suspicion in her eyes. "And what are the terms of this arrangement exactly? You cannot expect my people, or I for that matter, to believe that the templars are willing to negotiate our freedom that easily? Even if you have stayed off their assaults on our camps."
"The templars have seen the errors of their ways and are willing to try and do better than before," Solas informs while stepping next to the Herald of Andraste, providing support to Arturia. "They are willing to hear you out, and after finally prying themselves away from the true culprits of this war, nothing should stop either group from settling matters that should have been resolved when Justinia was alive."
"In any case, you'll probably get something better than what Alexius promised you," Dorian adds in as well. "Anything's better than that, yes?"
"And the Inquisition is your only remaining chance for your people's freedom."
At the assuring words of both mages, Arturia capitalizes on their promise with a show of her staff, grasping it by her side. "You have my word, Grand Enchanter, that with the Inquisition, you will not be our prisoners, but our allies."
Fiona looks at the staff in Arturia's hold and her eyes widened at its design and gentle pulse of power. She looks back at the unwavering emerald eyes of the herald, seeing only the truth in her gaze. "...And will you assure that the others will treat us that way?"
"I will. The Breach threatens all on Thedas. This is a time for unity, not division. Working with, and not for, the templars under the same banner of the Inquisition, we must gather all of our support, combine our efforts, and seal that wound in the sky. No longer as enemies, and not to subjugate others, but to fight as equals."
"I'd take that offer if I were you," Alistair voices clearly, giving a curious look at the young Herald in the room before declaring seriously to the mage leader. "One way or another, you're leaving this kingdom."
His declaration seems to hit a chord within Fiona, but the woman accepts his words with grace, and bows her head. "Very well, the mages will accept the terms of the Inquisition. For us at the very least, our war with the templars is over."
Fiona lets out a breath as if a huge weight has been lifted off of her shoulders. Arturia sympathizes with that feeling, bowing her head to the mage gratefully.
"We will do our best to seek peace with the templars, and close the Breach together. You have my word on that," The former Grand Enchanter finalizes.
She offers her hand and Arturia shakes it, and thus, the alliance is forged.
Fiona gives one final respectful bow towards the discontent royalties in the room, a look of regret in her eyes at Alistair, with an inexplicable caring that lasts only a second, she then departs from the throne room to inform her other mages of their immediate leave and new situation.
"If the Inquisition wishes to take responsibility for the mages, so be it. Just get them out of my kingdom," Anora fiercely orders, and then retreats from the throne room to amend the lasting damage done to her people.
Alistair sees off Queen Anora before turning to Arturia.
"I suppose I should leave as well. Before I do though, I have to say... you're a lot shorter than I was expecting."
Arturia meets his gaze. At this distance, they assess each other fully. One regarding the other as if in appraisal, instantly acknowledging the dignified stature that carries the dreams of thousands. Led thousands. Fought several battles and have the eyes to tell their stories.
A meeting between kings.
There is a brief chortle from Dorian, but Arturia pays him no heed. Refusing to break eye-contact with the king as if in a contest with the man. "...I seemed to be getting that a lot. But I assure you, this short girl has felled hundreds of demons, Your Grace."
"On that, I have no doubt," Alistair slightly smirks, nodding slightly at the girl. "I hope you know what you're getting into. But I am impressed that you are even in the position to be able to unite the mages and templars, and to put an end to that bloody war. Congratulations, Herald of Andraste, now let's hope your able to truly make history."
Arturia bows her head appreciatively at the king, and Alistair takes this moment to leave, "Keep this up, and who knows? We might meet again someday."
"Perhaps we will, if Maker allows it," Arturia speaks her parting words of the king, and sees him off.
Varric walks up and gave a pat on the back to the knight, "He is right. You just made history, pancakes."
Arturia never thought she'd see the day where she missed being called that.
"And this won't be the last of it," Solas informs.
"Not by a long shot, I assure you," Dorian speaks up, joining the group, "Now to fix any lingering time-altering affairs, seal the Breach, and there will be many more histories to make yet."
Arturia nods, looking at her armored gloved hand, once more seeing the reflection of her emerald eyes, she declares to her companions, "Let us be off then. There's still work to be done, but first, once we return to Haven... I believe, a celebration is in order."
"Now you're talking!" Iron Bull cheers, laughing as he patted the knight's shoulders, careful to not smash the bags that the knight is carrying all of a sudden after that disappearing act. "Drinks on me then! I'm going to make sure all of you get absolutely shit-faced."
"I'll take you up on that," Blackwall says, "I could certainly use a drink after today."
"Then I have the perfect beverage to celebrate with!" Dorian swiftly takes the satchel around Arturia's shoulders. "Be careful now, these bottles are very exquisite. You wouldn't believe the adventure we've went through before we got a hold of this."
"Oh yeah? Where exactly did you guys go?" Harding joins in on the conversation. "You were gone for at least five seconds."
"As long as time itself is involved, it may have been much longer than that," Solas informs, very intrigued to hear the story from Arturia and Dorian.
"Well, since all of you are wondering, I'll go first!" The Pavus mage answered. "So, after Alexius used that necklace to banish us, we were-"
Arturia overhears Dorian beginning his dramatized tale of their time leap adventure, smiling to herself as the Inquisition group made their way for the exits. 'It's certainly good to be back.'
She owes Irisviel, and perhaps Andraste herself, for bringing her here to this world. Where she'll make damn sure to protect it with all her heart, mind, body, and soul.
