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With the sun high in the sky and warming the depths of Skyhold, the Inquisitor flicked his daggers to and fro, moving through a series of precise movements as his trainer watched in the background with a stern gaze. She would nod here and there when he executed a movement with deadly precision, and when he swerved his dagger sloppily she would cluck her tongue in disapproval.
His body dripping in sweat and his stomach heaving from moving non-stop for the past hour, he struck the daggers into the chest of a dummy and thanked the gods his trainer clapped her hands, meaning he was finished for the day. Ever since Heir had walked through the doors of Skyhold, he knew he wanted to learn the ways of an assassin from her – he just hadn’t known how difficult it would be.
“Just remember. You are not the bulk of the battle. You use every shadow, every corner to your advantage – you use their own weakness against them.” Heir sniffed. “Now go take a bath before I mistake you for the horse’s smell.”
Kievon bowed to her and made sure to grab his discarded shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from his body as he walked up the steps to the second level of Skyhold. Cole had been there earlier to train with Kievon; he was learning the way of an Assassin as well, though it was almost a second nature to him. Cole knew where to put the daggers, but he wasn’t all that great at defending himself. Kievon had insisted he come train with him as to learn, but some distraction would come along, and off Cole went.
So it had just been him in the training field that day; Cullen was down with the recruits outside of Skyhold for a training session, meaning the only guards left were the ones on duty. His usual set of spectators was missing.
“Hey boss,” Iron Bull cheered from the door of the tavern. “You still got some fight in you? Krem here could use a blocking buddy. I’m trying to teach him to defend himself from multiple people, and not just one. All of the raw recruits aren’t around to use as dummies.”
“I don’t know how much fight I have left in me today,” Kievon smiled. “How about Blackwall? He’s working on his Griffon down in the stables.”
“Good idea, boss!”
“There you are!” Dorian shouted from the front doors of Skyhold. He was dressed in his usual leathers and had a book tucked underneath his arm, his black hair and mustache were perfect as always, primed and flawless after his daily ritual of taking a bath. “I wanted to show you this book I found, it has the most interesting history about the Dalish, but I’ve encountered a whole passage with Dalish phrases and what not. I need you to translate.” He bounded down the stairs.
“I’d be happy to,” Kievon said. He held out his hand for the book but paused when he heard the familiar call of a Hart and the clicks of their hooves against stone. Curious, he went over to look over the ledge to see a brilliant Red Hart pound into the courtyard, and what he saw nearly made his heart skip a beat.
It was his brother, Arthian, dressed in his Dalish garb, a long green cloak spread out over the back of the Hart. His brother was three years older than him, with a face and body like their mothers: long limbed, slightly taller than average, and dark blond hair cut close to the head. Having not seen his brother since he left for the conclave, it was more than a pleasant surprise.
“Arthian!” Kievon shouted, not bothering to use the stairs. He hitched over the wall and landed nimbly on the stone cobble.
“Aneth ara, Kievon!” his brother replied and swept off his Hart with ease. His Dalish armor glinted in the sunlight, but showing the wear and tear of old armor worn too long. The two marched together and grasped each other in a tight hug, laughing as they did so. “Inquisitor, is it not?”
Kievon pulled away, a wide grin upon his face. “You may call me as such, but to you I will always be Kievon.”
“Look how skinny you are!” Arthian leaned back, his eyebrows curved in judgment. “I see you are building your strength, but it doesn’t help if you don’t eat properly.” He poked Kievon’s stomach with a firm finger.
“I keep telling him that, myself,” Dorian said, sounding a bit grim as he moved to greet the newcomer. “Dorian Pavus, at your service. And who might you be?”
The guarded sound in his lover’s voice made Kievon chuckle. Was that jealousy he was hearing in his voice? “Dorian, this is my brother, Arthian.”
Dorian’s look of surprise and relief happened instantly, his mouth curving into a large circle as he took in the news.
Arthian eyed him up and down. “You are the mage Kievon writes about?”
“He writes of me? Of course he would! I wouldn’t hesitate to write about me either. But yes, I am ‘the mage.’”
Arthian seemed to accept his response, as he nodded firmly and set his mouth in a grim line. He turned to the Inquisitor and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Kievon, there is a reason I have traveled here.”
“I figured as much. Is the clan safe?”
“Yes, thanks to your soldiers – but it’s another issue. A personal issue. And, ah, an issue you may want to discuss alone.”
“Whatever you have to say you can say in front of Dorian,” Kievon said, his stomach starting to fill with dread. He started to pull on his shirt. “What is it, brother?”
His brother let out a long sigh, putting both of his hands behind him. “When we ran into the Alerion clan three years ago – do you remember the woman you pursued during that time?”
Suddenly, Kievon wished he had agreed to have the conversation alone with his brother. He ignored eye contact with Dorian and lightly shuffled on his feet. “Yes, I remember. Nihris. It obviously didn’t work out between us, considering where I am now.”
“She passed away several weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kievon murmured.
“And she left behind a two year old daughter.”
Kievon let out a small gasp, his mind grasping wildly at the situation. The way his brother was speaking… he and Nihris had only spent a few nights together – it wasn’t possible – no, it was entirely possible – but, no. No. He stared blankly at his brother and bit his lip as he looked to Dorian, who looked… bemused? Slightly surprised? But oddly keeping quiet.
“Are you saying…?” Kievon finally asked in a hushed voice.
“She’s yours, Kievon. She has your red hair, green eyes, your freckles – she’s like a female version of you. The Alerion clan entrusted her to us, since Nihris’s parents had passed, and they felt it more fitting for the father to have the daughter. But you’re here, living in Skyhold.”
“This isn’t something you could write in a letter?”
“I was afraid you would protest me bringing her here.”
“No. No. You are not to bring a child into the premises-”
“I rode ahead, but the aravel should be arriving shortly. She travels with my wife and my children.”
“So, what, you bring her here to meet her father? Then you’re going to just take her away?”
Arthian tilted his head, his gaze sad. “I was hoping you could take her on and raise her as your own.”
“Skyhold isn’t a place for a child, much less a two year old,” Kievon growled. “Day in and day out I risk my life. I travel for long journeys and barely have a moment of time for my own. I have the mark,” he held it up for his brother to see, the angry green light shining like a beacon, “as a reminder of what I have to do. I do not expect to live through this, Arthian. Why would you bring her here, only for the possibility of her seeing her father die on the battlefield?”
“If you do not want her, then my wife and I will adopt her as our own. But I want you to meet her so you can make the choice for yourself.” Arthian turned his head as the sound of the aravel approaching echoed throughout the halls. Strong, white Halla entered the courtyard with ease, pulling a battered aravel behind them. “Our clan is threatened day in and day out, Kievon. There’s a chance your daughter wouldn’t make it even living with us,” he said in a low voice. “But you must make that decision yourself.”
Kievon finally looked to Dorian, who was rubbing his mustache in deep thought. The mage caught his gaze and nodded, seeming to understand his feelings right away. They were at the point in their relationship where they could tell what one was feeling from just a gaze. Dorian wasn’t upset, just surprised. And Kievon was just a vast range of emotions, ranging from anger, to surprise, to furious, and even to curiosity.
The aravel stopped in front of them.
“What is her name?” Kievon asked as the door opened, his heart pounding.
“She is named Kievril, partially after you and her grandmother. She answers to Vril, though.”
One by one Dalish piled out of the aravel; Arthian’s wife, a striking woman with sharp features, his eldest son, his two youngest daughters, and finally, a little red-headed girl. She was short, dressed in a small cloak of emerald green. Her hair was tied to the side in small pigtails and she sucked on her thumb, with a halla figurine tucked underneath her arm. A dash of freckles settled across her features, and the same, brilliant green eyes Kievon saw each time he looked into the mirror looked straight back at him.
“She is truly a striking image of you,” Dorian pointed out quietly.
Arthian picked up Vril from the aravel and twirled her in the air, sending her into a fit of giggles. “There you are, my little halla! I have someone to introduce to you!” He set her down on the ground and placed his hands son his shoulders, facing her towards the Inquisitor. “You know who I’ve been telling you about?”
Vril briskly nodded her head, green eyes wide and pinned onto Kievon.
Defeated, he knelt down in front of his daughter. His daughter – what a weird word to think of. Considering his lifestyle, he hadn’t thought it was possible. Even when he knew Nihris, he didn’t sleep with her with the thought of having children in mind. No, it was just for fun. Having a child named partially after him, though…
“How are you?” Kievon asked softly. “I’ve been told you’re my daughter. Do you know who I am?”
Again, Vril briskly nodded her head. She pointed and said, “Da.”
Kievon smiled. “Yes. I’m your da.”
With an excited squeal, she dashed toward Kievon and flung herself on him, suddenly chattering away in broken gibberish, with a few words audible here and there. She ran her hands through Kievon’s long hair, laughing and comparing it to hers.
Kievon picked her up and motioned for everyone to follow him up the stairs to the main throne room. “Your name is Kievril?”
“Vril!” she said happily. She held up one finger. “I’m two!”
“Two! My, my. I do believe you mean two,” Kievon said, holding up two fingers. “Isn’t that right?”
Vril shook her head and held up one finger. “Two.”
Cassandra stood near the training dummies, dressed in plain clothes for the day as she went about her duties. She paused in and lifted an eyebrow at the Inquisitor in question, having noticed the newcomers.
“Tell the companions to be in the throne room in ten minutes. I have had a predicament creep up,” Kievon said with a sigh.
“Of course,” Cassandra responded with a firm nod. She went off to hunt down everyone else.
There were few visitors to Skyhold that day, with everyone tucked away in their rooms or off on a stroll somewhere. Varric sat at his table near the door with a pile of papers in front of him. At the sight of the little girl, he instantly chuckled. “I see we have some new companions.”
“Yes, yes we do.” Kievon moved to sit on the throne, setting his daughter on his knee.
“What’s this?” Morrigan said from the garden door, Kieran peeking around from behind her. She and her son moved into the throne room and stood near the wall, arms crossed. Her son, a shy little boy who kept to himself, settled directly beside her.
“I would prefer to explain it once, and then everyone can gossip about it to everyone else directly after. It would save me the job,” Kievon said.
Dorian had kneeled down in front of Vril, introducing himself and shaking her hand humorously. Vril reached out and grabbed one side of Dorian’s mustache and pulled, causing the man to gasp and laugh at the same time. Vril seemed all the more fascinated that the hair was attached.
One by one the companions piled in, cozying themselves around the large throne chair. Once they were gathered, Kievon cleared his throat. No less than fifteen minutes he had discovered he had a daughter, and it was the more harder realizing she would be hard to let go, especially after introducing her to everyone. But he needed to know how everyone thought about having a little one in Skyhold – they had Kieran, a young boy no older than ten. Surely it would be fine.
But the chance she may end up without a father bothered him all the more.
“Everyone, this is my daughter, Kievril. Surprise!” Kievon grinned uneasily, scratching Vril’s head affectionately.
“How did I not know about this?” Leliana demanded. “I knew everything about you. Everything.”
“If you had figured out I had a daughter before I did, I’d be worried. Actually, no. I’m disappointed, Leliana,” Kievon teased, then frowned. “This is also my brother and his family. If you could kindly take Vril to the gardens while I figure out a few things, Arthian?"
“Of course. Come, little halla.” Arthian picked Vril up and he and his family made their way to the gardens, with Varric kindly showing them the way.
Once the door was shut there was a sudden outburst.
“How did I not know?”
“Way to go, boss.”
“A child, eh? We’ll raise her right here in Skyhold. I show her the way of the sword. She’ll be the best little trooper in no time.”
“A kid? Been busy, have you?”
Kievon let them chuckle it out over themselves, then coughed and went into Inquisitor-my-ass-is-on-the-throne-pay-attention mode. “So I just find out I have a daughter, and you all don’t think it’s dangerous if I have her here? What will I do when we’re gone? Leave her here? What if Skyhold is attacked while we’re not here?”
“I agree. It is too dangerous,” Cassandra said.
“On the other hand,” Varric shrugged, “we do have a very extensive staff on hand. You know the cook? Her daughter just arrived in Skyhold a month ago and she has a little youngin’ of her own. She serves the meals down in the battlements and has a nice little tent set-up down there. We could bring her and her own kid up here, give her a room of her own, and she could watch little Vril while we’re away.”
Josephine nodded. “We would double her pay and make sure she has everything she needs.”
“I would play with her,” Morrigan’s little boy said softly. He looked up to his mother. “Is that all right?”
Morrigan smiled, her cold demeanor softening when looking at her son. “If she stays, of course it is.”
With a long, exasperated sigh, Kievon ran a hand through his hair. “So that matter is solved.”
“The only issue that lingers is if you want to raise her as your own,” Solas said, hands held behind his back.
Kievon stood. “Everyone, return to what you were doing. I need a moment alone.” He motioned to Dorian to follow him, and together they escaped up to their room, walking up the stairs in silence.
“Do you wish to hear my thoughts?” Dorian asked once they reached the top of the stairs.
“By all means, please say what you’re thinking.”
“So, children.” Dorian crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “This has struck you with complete surprise. You’re starting to feel guilty if you send your daughter away to be raised by your brother. But, let me ask you a question – do you see yourself in her?”
“Yes. I think it’s obvious. We almost share the same exact features.”
“Do you see yourself devoting time for her?”
“I don’t – I don’t know, Dorian.” Kievon wandered over to his desk and started cleaning the clutter of papers and books absently. “Children? I was married to another man. There wasn’t any thought of children ten, fifteen years ago. Sure, I played with and taught the children of the clan, but I never once put out the hope I would have one of my own. I was content with my husband and my love to him. To have a daughter with a woman I barely knew… I just don’t know.
“I guess… I guess I’m just irritated she didn’t tell me!” Kievon slammed his desk with his fist. “I’m not angry that I had a child. I’m not. I’m angry that I wasn’t there for her from the very beginning. Where the hell was I when Nihris gave birth? Why didn’t she try to contact me? Did I leave her that heartbroken that she felt like I wasn’t worth reconnecting with? What kind of father can I be when I have to explain someday that I abandoned her mother?”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have. That’s the point, but instead I took Nihris for granted and left her. Maybe she thought I wasn’t good enough to raise a child.” Kievon settled back down in his chair with defeat. “Maybe I’m not. Sure, I’m Inquisitor now. But that doesn’t mean anything if I can’t be a good father to a daughter who doesn’t even know me.”
Dorian kneeled before the Inquisitor and took his hands in his. “I can relate by trying to share my own experience. … How do I say what I want to say? Tevinter doesn’t raise children. We mold children into what we want them to be. You know this, I’ve explained how I was raised to you before. There isn’t any such thing as love, or devotion. When I realized I could never have and raise children of my own because of my preference of men… I never once pictured having a child. There was no point in it. There was nothing to be gained in wasting my time away with something I would never get to have.
“The great thing about Fereldens is that they have families. Loving families. From what you told me, you were raised in a loving and kind environment. And now you have a choice: You have a chance to raise your daughter exactly how you were raised, and even better than your parents raised you. You’re a great man, Kievon, amatus, and if you don’t see that, then you need to accept it. And plus, you have me for a role model. Nothing could go wrong.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“We were planning on staying here for the next several weeks. You have been granted a daughter at nearly the perfect time in this war. Skyhold is powerful than ever, we have strong alliances, and before you know it, we’ll have solved our problem with this Elder One sooner than you know it.”
“Say we defeat Corypheus,” Kievon leaned forward. “I now have a daughter to travel with. I planned to visit my clan after all this is over, and I know we haven’t quite discussed your plans to return to Tevinter.
“Yes, well…”
“I love my clan and I miss the forests. But I think what I would miss overall is you. You have been my anchor throughout this Inquisition, Dorian. If I have a daughter to raise, then I want to raise her with the perfect man.”
“You do realize the kind of father I had? I’m afraid my parenting skills would be a little rusty. I have no role model save for myself.”
Kievon leaned over and kissed him slowly, the mustache tickling the sides of his face as it always did, then pulled back. “Then you need not be worried, as you are the perfect man.”
“Yes… yes I am, aren’t I?”
“You are.”
“As for Tevinter… I remember Felix and realize I should have done what he did, standing up against the Magesterium. I cannot run from Tevinter all the time. I have to go back.”
“I will follow, as will Vril. We’ll travel as a family.”
“I suspect this is a discussion for a later time,” Dorian said wryly. He got to his feet and pulled the shorter elf up with him. Vril’s giggles traveled through the window facing the garden, along with an array of mixed laughter. “Let us go see your new daughter, shall we?”
Hand in hand, they made their way to the garden – Varric was speaking to a messenger, no doubt summoning the cook’s daughter in a heartfelt letter. He waved to them as they passed.
The garden was full of herbs and plants, a place offering relaxation and comfort. Kievon had planted much of the herb garden himself from the herbs he had gathered. He thought, there’s one thing I could teach Vril. An intriguing thought.
With several of the companions gathered around to make conversation with the Dalish and to make sure they felt welcomed, it was a heartwarming sight that not everything was lost in war. There was still companionship and family. It was probably the first time his brother’s family had traveled away from the protection of the clan, so it was important his brother received the best treatment. Sera had somehow been roped into chasing Vril around, which she did with a mischievous look on her face.
“If there’s one thing Vril will be around here, is very loved,” Dorian pointed out.
Kievon smiled and held out his hands to Vril, who dashed over to him with haste. He swooped up his daughter in a twirl and laughed, a first, hearty laugh he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
He realized he couldn’t disagree with Dorian’s statement one bit.