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“Inquisitor?” Josephine called out to Taren as he went rushing past her office. He skittered to a halt mid jog, and took a few quick steps back toward the sound. His arms were full, piled high with bandages and bundles of dried elfroot which threatened to topple out of them with the speed of his turn. They were destined for the healers’ tents, and he was busying himself with the errand, but it was nothing that couldn’t wait for a request from his advisor.
Josephine was standing in the hall outside of her office, flagging him down. She had a quill in her hand and an urgent look on her face. “I have a Dalish elf here, he says he knows you.”
Taren had moved past her and through the door before she could finish the sentence. Just the words “Dalish elf” were enough. One of the People, finally.
The figure in the chair opposite her desk was turned away, head slightly bowed and shoulders hunched, but he turned cautiously as the Inquisitor entered, a long slender neck careening around the back of the chair to look toward him, silvery blond hair so light it was nearly white flopping messily over his eyes.
“Aneth ara, Inquisi-”
Taren interrupted the greeting as a wide smile spread over his face. “Th-Theo?!”
The elf at Josephine’s desk stood, all six and a half feet of him rising out of the low chair. He raised one hand in an awkward but friendly little wave, and Taren promptly dropped the towering pile of supplies he carried.
Taren all but leapt into him, wrapping his arms around the young man so quickly and so tightly that the force of it generated a surprised “oof” on impact. Theo didn’t return the gesture, but stood there, towering over Taren like a birch tree, arms stiff and spread out to the sides like long, awkward chicken wings.
That wasn’t like the Theo Taren remembered; the brat he knew would have hugged back with matching enthusiasm, lifted him off the ground while calling him some teasing nickname that played off his own stature. Taren let him go, quickly. The shattering of the world had affected everyone, and anyway, it didn’t matter: he was just happy to find a familiar face.
Taren held the young man out at arms length, hands gripping him almost at the waist, as his own shoulders came up only to his biceps. “How long has it been? What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you, da’len!” He wasn’t so little, now, hadn’t been for years, but he would always be a da’len. Taren flooded the space between them with excitement, but Theo still looked rather stunned, not returning his smiles. Taren paused, releasing him and taking a long look at his face. Same simple Valaslin - Taren remembered how he had winced and gripped his hand through every second of their application - same unruly silver hair, though cropped a little shorter than he used to wear it, but his eyes were a little less bright, and the smile he finally returned was tinged with irony.
“Is everyone alright?” Taren spoke in slow Elvhen, dread seeping into the question. He had received letters from members of the clan, updates on life since he had left, but not enough.
“Yeah,” Theo answered, and his smile picked up a little, reassuring. He kept their conversation in the native tongue. “They’re fine, busy. Bereth and Sulahnna just had another baby.” Another one, no wonder there hadn’t been many letters. A newborn would occupy the whole clan.
Taren was beaming again. “Tell me everything.” He requested excitedly. Theo only shrugged.
“You know me,” he replied, “I haven’t really been around.”
Taren tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. Theo was like that, always away for long stretches; hunting, trading, facilitating the movement of city elves and Dalish mages to other clans. It was something they had in common, as well as the reason that he had seen so little of him, after he had come of age.
“Why are you here?” Taren asked again, looking over his gear and around the small office. Theo was in a hunter’s attire, light leathers and a thick scarf. A cloak to match was draped over the chair, and a bow and quiver of arrows leaned on the desk. Spread atop the desk were a collection of papers, formally written in Josephine’s elaborate looping script and stamped with the symbol of the Inquisition. They looked important, and vaguely disciplinary. “Are you in trouble?” That was more like the Theo he knew.
Taren remembered Josephine now, standing in the doorway looking on with an expression of confusion and mild amusement - though mainly confusion - as Taren had prattled on in lightning fast Elvhen. He was normally slow and quiet in speech; the unfamiliar tongue of humans took more consideration, well-versed though he was.
“Is he in trouble?” He asked her, his expression settling into one of concern.
“They’re saying you can stop what’s happening to the sky - to the world,” Theo explained in quick, quiet Elvhen before Josephine could give her answer, “I wanted to help.” Taren smiled again, small and proud. Of course he did.
“It seems your friend got himself into an altercation with Commander Cullen the moment he arrived.” Josephine relayed her part of the answer with seriousness in her tone and a purse of her lips.
Taren sighed, but he was close to a laugh when he spoke. “Why does everyone who wants to join us insist on attacking my Commander first?” He remarked, rhetorically. Theo gave him a questioning sideways glance. “Never mind.” He sighed. “Cullen’s fine?” His attention was still on Josephine, who nodded. “Then he’s forgiven.” He said quickly.
Josephine shook her head with slight exasperation, but she moved to her desk and began clearing away some of the papers.
Taren turned back to Theo, all smiles once more. He returned to the quick, excited Elvhen. “So, who else have you met? Do you need a tour? I can introduce you around, or there’s a tavern. Do you need a room? It’s a bit cold to sleep outside, up here, but you should see the sky at night - so many stars, sometimes auroras!”
Theo was shaking his head, still looking stunned, but less uncomfortable, some genuine amusement returned to his smile. “I’m not staying here .” He said, and he gave the high castle walls a look that Taren understood. He wasn’t yet used to dwelling somewhere so closed up and heavy with stone himself.
“Me neither, as much as I can help it.” Taren said. Looking around again, he remembered his errand; the bandages and herbs were now piled onto a decorative table. Josephine had gathered them up while he had been busy making excited greetings. “Well, help me deliver these, at least.” He made the request invitingly, already gathering some of the supplies into his arms. Theo took the rest, and followed him from the ambassador’s office while throwing one last wary glance over his shoulder.
Theo took in the surroundings as they walked, eyes surveying the various diplomats and workers in Skyhold’s main hall, ears perking at the whispers that followed wherever Taren went. Taren heard them too, but he was mostly accustomed to it, and something about having a little piece of real family in tow put him more at ease than he would usually be. He explained a little about the things they passed; “library through there, and they call that ridiculous thing my throne. I hate it. Well, I suppose the craftsmanship is impressive, I don’t know, I let Dorian choose the actual design. I just don’t like to do any actual sitting in it.” Theo didn’t appear to be really listening, but he didn’t mind. “Anyway, these are for our healers, there are a few elves there, but they’re all Circle mages. So strange, Circle mages, but they do know their spells.”
Theo visibly relaxed once they stepped outside, and Taren smiled to himself; he knew that feeling, too. “After this, I can at least introduce you to Scout Harding,” Taren offered as they approached the tents, “she heads up most of our expeditions. I think she’s headed to the Emerald Graves next, if you’re interested.”
Theo nodded. “Like I said, I’m here to uh -” he paused, head turning to watch an elf in pale blue mage robes exchange greetings with an Inquisition soldier. They didn’t wear the Templar uniforms anymore, but this soldier had been one - they had a certain way about them; you could just tell. Taren watched too, his gaze less anxious and more subtly concerned. His policies had fostered peace, but there were still tensions. The interaction ran its course, and he heard Theo let out a quick breath. “I’m here to help.” He finished.
Taren brightened, his smile hanging just a little off center, and shoved Theo lightly with his shoulder. “Of course you are, you big soft beanpole.”
And then, finally, Theo laughed.
----
A little over a week later, Taren had the chance to reunite with Theo again, once he had finally put enough hours of dull war room meetings in to organize his own rift-sealing expedition to the Emerald Graves. Scout Harding told him that he was the fastest messenger and best hunter she had ever met when he asked, and that made Taren smile, but when Theo did arrive at the Inquisition camp that evening, the messages he brought were not as uplifting.
“The Mad Elf is a threat to our very way of life, such heretical rhetoric cannot be trusted -” Taren held up a hand as Theo read him the letter. It was one he had intercepted from some Orlesian Comte or Baron or somesuch to another, and he had heard it all before. Theo clearly had not, however, and he seemed to be attempting to burn a hole into the page with his eyes. Taren decided to lighten the mood.
“I think they’re talking about you.” He chided, nudging Theo with his elbow. Theo’s brow was still furrowed, and he prodded the letter with one angry finger.
“Says ‘Taren Lavellan’, here.”
Taren grabbed the letter and looked at it, feigning surprise. “What? But I haven’t an angry bone in my body! Me? Mad?” He tossed the letter aside. “You know how these shems are, they think we all look alike. Must have mistaken you for me.” He winked.
Theo rolled his eyes, but it had done the trick. “I’m as tall as two of you, little brother.” Tongue and cheek, Taren was nearly ten years older.
“Hmm,” Taren returned the eye roll, “but I am not the one who punched Cullen in the teeth last week. Must be you.”
“I didn’t punch him in the teeth !” Theo exclaimed, his tone embarrassed, even a little frustrated, “I grabbed him by the collar.” He crossed his arms and blew a stray wisp of silver hair from his eyes with a huff. Apparently this wasn’t something fit for joking about.
Taren sighed, “sorry, da’len.” He said, heartfelt. “What was that argument about, anyway?” Concerned. Theo was still so rigid compared to the young rascal he remembered, even out here, where the world was green.
“Nothing.” Theo muttered.
Taren frowned, but he didn’t press it. He had a habit of asking too many questions; it made him a good Inquisitor, but he also knew that sometimes all that was needed was a good friend. “Come on,” he said instead, “food.”
Theo wandered off to eat by himself during the meal, quietly staying out of the way of the Inquisitor’s party of trusted companions. Taren wanted to introduce him, especially to Dorian, but he let him be, and simply gushed a little about his old friend. He told Dorian of the time that Theo had nursed an injured squirrel back to health, and when it had imprinted on him and begun following him around, how he had crafted it a little wooden dish of its own and attempted to teach it tricks with which to entertain the clan children. It hadn’t really worked, the squirrel mostly ate acorns and ignored commands, but it did ride on Theo’s high shoulders for a time, probably mistaking him for a tree. He was just finishing up the story when Theo cautiously approached.
“Aren’t you a tall drink of water?” Dorian said admiringly as Theo made his best attempt at a friendly introduction. “Pleasure to meet you, Taren says only nice things.”
“Mostly nice things.” Taren corrected teasingly, patting the seat beside himself.
Theo took the seat hesitantly, and was still quiet as the jovial conversation continued around him.
“Hey,” Theo said, after a while, “do you think you could come check out a cave with me tomorrow?”
“Sure,” agreed Taren easily, “what’s in it?”
“Don’t know,” Theo answered, a small smile finding its way to his lips, “need someone itty bitty to crawl inside and find out.”