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“Right,” Kubide said, eyeing the clean-lined building in front of her, taller than Skyhold, “everyone keep your heads.” She felt naked without her weapons, and she was sure the rest did too. Even the mages weren’t allowed to have their staffs here.
Solas shuddered. “The spirits are disturbed here,” he said in hollow, portentous tones. “We must be wary.”
Vivienne sighed. “Must we do this? It’s beneath our dignity.”
“The Inquisition is on a limited budget until we can find patrons, as you well know,” Josephine informed him. “If we want beds, this is our best option.” Still, she looked shaken at the prospect of entering the monolithic building before them.
“Cheer up! It’s the same colors as your dress, that will help you blend in,” Varric said encouragingly.
Josephine sighed. “I’m not quite sure you’re right.”
Kubide cleared her throat. “Let’s get on with it.”
The blue building loomed over them as the Inquisition’s inner circle went inside. IKEA, the sign declared. The doors whisked open and admitted them to a cool, dry entry, soothing after the hot Ferelden day outside. Other people rushed and bustled about, families looking to furnish homes, servants looking for replacements for houses...
“Welcome to IKEA!” an elf in an IKEA uniform chirped at them. Her eyes got very wide, looking at the thirteen people crowding inside, but she remained professional. “Can I help you find anything?”
“For now, we only need to browse,” Josephine said cheerfully. “Do you have a map?”
Yes, she did have a map. And Blackwall dourly insisted that everyone take at least one, “just in case we lose one of you in this maze.”
They picked the Ferelden IKEA for several reasons. First, it was close to Skyhold—or as close as one could get to the height of the Frostbacks—second, it was relatively cheap, and, third, it was all flat-pack, so toting a castle’s worth of goods back up the mountains by pack mule and wagon would be easy.
All three advisors had very different ideas of what the furnishings should look like. Josephine wanted maximum aesthetic looks, Leliana wanted what was most functional, and Cullen wanted something uniform. Kubide, having browsed the catalogue, was reasonably sure that (though they were bickering about it even as the whole group crowded on the escalator up to the Showroom) it would be possible to achieve all three at once.
That was sort of the point of IKEA.
“Everyone stay close,” Kubide said at the top of the escalator, chivvying the Inquisition to the side so they didn’t block pedestrians. “Blackwall’s right, this place is a maze. I don’t want to lose anyone.”
“I don’t want to get lost in here,” Dorian said, with a concerned look at the furniture arranged neatly around the winding aisles.
“We should not get lost,” Cassandra pointed out, pointing at the big yellow direction arrows on the floor.
Kubide looked at Sera. “And no pranks. Save that for later.”
“Spoilsport,” Sera said.
“We should rendezvous at the cafe,” Vivienne said, peering at the map. “If one of us gets lost, it will be easiest to meet there.”
“Perfect plan, ma’am” the Iron Bull said. “Lunch is on the Inquisition.” He ducked a low-hanging light fixture. Two seconds later, Kubide hit it with her horns.
Only responsible members of the Inquisition got cart-pushing privileges. Which meant Cassandra, Blackwall, Vivienne, and Cullen, in practice. None of them would try to go joyriding, or wander away with anything they got, or hit passerby. Kubide didn’t even trust herself on that point.
Almost immediately they lost Cole. Kubide stopped to look at a Söderhamn sectional couch that Cassandra loved and Varric thought was interesting. When she turned around Cole was gone. His hat, which would be the dead giveaway of his location even in the crowds, was nowhere to be seen among the lamps and tasteful fabrics.
“Solas, you were supposed to be watching him!”
He had the grace to look shamefaced. “I was distracted,” he said awkwardly. “This place is uncanny, even by the standards of one who walks in the Fade.”
“Stuff it,” Sera said. “You gonna get the little spook back or not?”
“Out of all of us, I trust Cole to find his way back when he’s ready,” Varric put in.
Kubide looked at the exposed air ducts on the ceiling and prayed to a Maker she didn’t believe in for guidance.
They made relatively good time through the living room section. Over Cullen’s protests of tradition, Kubide ruled that Skyhold did not need coffee tables or ottomans at the moment. She bowed to Vivienne’s concept of modern art, though, on the grounds that the stone walls were bare and depressing, and waited while the Imperial Enchanter (with serious input from the Iron Bull and sarcastic input from Varric) took notes on which pieces to order or buy later in the store.
It was in sofa-beds that they lost track of Dorian and the Iron Bull. They were trailing the rest. One second they were making bad innuendoes at each other, the next second they were gone.
“I refuse to look for them,” Solas said loudly.
Josephine sighed. “I’ll make a note to pay for damages later,” she said, scribbling on her clipboard.
“Can we please,” Kubide said, “keep it together?”
“How are we supposed to defeat Corypheus like this?” Vivienne demanded.
Kubide didn’t really know the answer to that question, so on they went.
Everyone was very invested in the cabinets-and-storage zone, which resulted in plentiful dawdling. Blackwall had strong opinions about everything made of wood, and Cassandra would only consider storage solutions large enough to properly fit armor and weapons. Varric got extremely hung up on a Bestå storage combination, insisting it would be perfect in the dining hall. Cullen, still grumbling about the coffee tables, refused to participate.
The whole trip ground to a halt at furniture meant for offices. Now everyone really had opinions, especially Josephine and Leliana. Kubide stood back with her head in her hands, waiting out the storm. People going by looked at them all a bit disdainfully, as if similar but quieter arguments weren’t going on all around the Inquisition.
“I understand that budget is important, Leliana,” Josephine said, hands on her hips, “but I spend hours at my desk! I cannot have just a chair.”
“We’ll all have to put up with them for a while, until our budget increases,” Leliana said. She pointed at the nice leather chair, swiveling with a back and armrests, which was the cause of all the fuss. “That is three hundred dollars. There are chairs here for eighty or less, which—”
“—will ruin the backs of the entire Inquisition, and then where will we be?”
Solas, hands awkwardly at his sides, looking extremely tired, asked, “Is there no middle ground?”
“No!” Leliana and Josephine shouted at once.
In the end, Kubide convinced them to settle on a chair that only cost a hundred and fifty dollars. They had a dozen offices in Skyhold that needed chairs, including her own, and people had to sit somewhere.
Desks required a little more argument, though it was less argument and more “accommodating an Inquisition whose heights ranged from over seven feet to four and a half feet tall.” Varric wanted to be able to see over his desk and Kubide would like not to knock hers over every time she stood up. Chairs had adjustable heights. Desks did not.
With the addition of wire storage racks, desk lamps, and other office sundries, they went on. Kitchen was easy enough: they had to feed an army, so it was multiple decent ovens and a plethora of cabinets. Sera talked them into good countertops (“can’t make nothing without a good place to chop shit up”).
“Skyhold does not have plumbing,” Solas said, when Kubide was bent over sinks, consulting with Sera, “so do not bother with those.”
Kubide looked at Josephine. “Can our budget fit a plumber?”
“I can make it fit,” Josephine said with a wince.
“Yeah, I bet,” Sera said, snickering.
A nearby father made a scandalized noise and hurried his children away.
It was in dining that they lost Blackwall. Kubide was examining a Nordviken ten-seater table with Cassandra and Leliana, discussing pros and cons of buying enough to use wherever necessary, when she heard Blackwall mention that he wanted to look at something “over there.”
“Go ahead,” Kubide said, distracted.
By the time they’d decided to go with the Skogsta model instead, Blackwall had completely vanished.
“Where did he go?” Kubide demanded.
Cullen, peering at the map, said, “It looks like there’s a shortcut going back to storage. Perhaps he went through there?”
“So he’s behind us now?” Varric asked. He’d picked up one of the free IKEA pencils and was writing on his map. “A rear guard?”
Kubide looked at her map. “There’s another shortcut through to ‘family’, if he pays attention and follows the map. It’ll put him right by the restaurant.”
“I hope he follows the map, after taking five for himself,” Vivienne said.
“Ugh,” Cassandra said.
The next sections, “bedrooms” and “children,” were easy enough. Kubide couldn’t find a single bed that would nicely accommodate her height or her horns, so she gave up on that until they could get something better.
“I’ll just sleep on the ground,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And buy the biggest Orlesian bed I can manage when we have the funds.”
By the time they emerged into the restaurant, everyone was utterly starving, and the cafeteria could not have looked more amazing. Everyone got as much food as they wanted: some pasta, or fish, or quiche. Kubide stuck to the classic Swedish meatballs, with mashed potatoes, cream sauce, and lingonberry jam.
Cole, Dorian, Bull, and Blackwall were already there, tucking into dessert.
“We thought you’d never make it,” Dorian said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.
“And we thought you and Bull were off testing beds,” Varric said, sitting down.
Bull laughed. “We just got lost,” he said. “Took a right where we shouldn’t have and, boom, middle of the office stuff. Couldn’t see any of you, so we just kept going until we got here.”
“You were ahead of us, dear,” Vivienne said, taking a delicate bite of salmon.
“I went backwards,” Blackwall said, rolling his eyes, “and couldn’t figure out how to rejoin you. Lucky there are more shortcuts.”
“I told you he’d work it out,” Kubide said smugly to Cassandra. She just rolled her eyes and made a disgusted noise.
Solas, sitting beside Cole, looked intently at him. “And where did you go?”
“Fear,” Cole said quietly over his untouched plate, “fear of loss and fear of love unspoken. A new covenant broken by wood finishes.”
“What,” Sera asked through meatball, “in the flying fuck is he on about?”
“Newlyweds about to divorce over a bookshelf,” Solas said.
The reunited Inquisition stuck closer together going down into the Marketplace, which was all the tableware, blankets, rugs, small storage, and so on. Carts began to get very, very heavy.
“I hate this,” Kubide said conversationally, ducking under another fixture as they went through the lighting section. She’d already broken two.
Bull, who’d only broken one, made a face, turning sideways to navigate around a flowery Grimsås pendant light. “You’re telling me.”
All of the decorations were quickly rushed by. They just didn’t have the money for small decorations or novelties. Besides, knowing their profession, they’d accrue such things quickly enough. Gifts, retrieved treasures, tributes—it was part of the life.
Finally, they made it to the warehouse. This was quick: taking everything on Josephine’s list from the shelves in their cardboard boxes, loading them onto dollies, and bringing them up to the register. An easy enough job, between the strong members of the Inquisition and a little bit of help from the mages.
“We came in under budget,” Josephine said delightedly, once they were out of the store and getting help loading the heavy packages on the mules and into the wagons.
“That’s going toward a plumber, right?” Kubide asked, strapping on her sword again. Its weight was comforting.
“Toward roofs first,” Varric suggested. “We can always use a regular privy.”
Sera laughed. “Or go in the woods.”
Solas, staring at the many boxes of furniture, looked distinctly grumpy. “None of this befits a place like Skyhold,” he said.
“We’ll get better later,” Kubide said. She looked toward the distant blue shapes of the Frostback Mountains, painted against the sky, and mounted her horse. “For now, let’s get home.”
Dorian sounded quite cheerful as he said, “The worst is yet to come!”
“What do you mean?” Blackwall asked.
“Even you, my dear fellow, are going to have trouble putting all this stuff together!”