Work Text:
The Inquisition comes for him. A lady armoured in faith and steel asks him to be their leader, tells him he would be a good fit for the role, what with how he's handling Kirkwall. He can only laugh. He was never meant for ruling, he tells her, put him back on the farm in Ferelden and he would be a happy man indeed.
So why hasn't he gone, she asks. He tells her. The city needs him; the mages need him. Were it not for him, the few of them still left would be dead or made tranquil. And he has done well, truly. At least now, they can walk the streets – not entirely without fear, perhaps, but they can walk them without fearing templars on their heels for simply existing outside a circle. The Chantry's influence in Kirkwall, too, is much less.
The templars that were left were given a choice; join the city watch under Aveline and a mage Viscount, or leave Kirkwall. The recent battle was still fresh in mind, of what havoc could be wrought by a commander many trusted greatly, had trusted for years and years. Some chose to join the watch, some – too entrenched by the Chantry's teachings – left for other circles, other cities. And some simply left, refusing Kirkwall and Chantry both.
The city closed ranks when the Chantry tried to assert its influence again. Its people remembered all too clearly Knight-Commander Meredith, and five years with a mage upon the city's throne had shown many that mages were, perhaps, not the great evil they may have thought.
For he had done right by the city, as best as he could. The Tal-Vashoth, who once plagued the caravans and travellers who would enter the city, had instead been brought under Kirkwall's wing, working whatever trade they wished. And those who had refused the offer to join the city? Well. The sharks and fish had not gone hungry that year. The streets, too, had been cleaned up. People – Tal-Vashoth and poor and those who merely lacked something to do – had been put to work building, giving homes to those who yet needed it. It was still a work in progress, true, but it was a work going well.
Maybe the truth of it was that he couldn't really bear to part with what he had built. Was building.
***
Varric leaves. The Divine herself asks him to come, and Brand knows by now the faith Varric holds to his heart, loath as he is to admit it. So Brand bids him farewell, jokes and laughs and cries a little and tells Varric to get back, that if he dies away from Brand, he'll find Varric and kill him again for it.
They exchange letters some times. Ravens arrive from wherever Varric is, telling about an explosion at the conclave, that Brand shouldn't worry because Varric is fine, there's no need to drag Aveline and Fenris to Haven, that Brand stay where he is because Kirkwall needs him. He tells about someone surviving the explosion, appearing out of the Fade, closing the rifts that had started popping up. Brand sends letters back, telling about the improvements he's making to Kirkwall, how things are going with Aveline and Fenris, how more Tal-Vashoth travel to the city in hopes of a second chance, a chance for redemption, how well the building project is going. They write about everything and nothing, but they can both read between one another's lines, Things are dangerous here, Brand, I want you to finally be safe for once and I want you to be safe too, Varric, not just me and There's people here you should stay away from and We miss you.
***
Varric doesn't come back. A year or so passes, and a raven arrives to tell him they've moved from Haven to a castle in the Frostbacks called Skyhold. Brand can read between the lines here, too, but now he doesn't need to. Varric wants him to come to Skyhold to try and help the Inquisition with some advice. He's sent a letter to Ciaran, too, apparently, although he wouldn't mind Brand asking her if they cross paths and it hasn't yet reached her. Enclosed in the letter are thorough instructions of the best way to get to Skyhold from Kirkwall.
***
He tugs Aveline and Fenris along, leaving in charge a council he trusts to do his will – a pair of mages, a former Tal-Vashoth, an elf, and a human. He's been working on improving things for the elves, too, and won't see his hard work undone.
They make their way to Skyhold, complaining about the boat trip and then the cold and then the heights, all in good humour. Eventually they reach the castle, and they have to stop to gape for a little while at the sheer immensity of it where it stands, crowning one of the bigger peaks.
There's only one entrance for those without wings or climbing ropes, and that's via the main gates. They stand wide open, letting people enter and leave as they please, and the three of them ride in easily - They had had to get a horse for Brand, with his bad leg, and decided they might as well take one for each of them, three sturdy little mountain horses that seemed at times half goat. A guard directs them towards the stables, where there was room for a fair amount of horses – not enough for an army, certainly, not yet, but enough for now. After that, they ask another guard for where the great hall is, where Varric said he'd be waiting. The guard explains easily enough, and they make their way up too many stairs to get there. Brand's leg aches and aches, but he refuses help from Aveline or Fenris, determined to manage by himself and his cane.
As soon as they enter, it's clear where Varric has made his home. One corner of the room, by a fireplace, holds dwarven furniture that can belong to no-one but Varric. He's not there, however, and they decide without speaking to make themselves at home. The chair is low for Brand, but a great relief for his leg nonetheless.
They wait there, talking quietly about the Inquisition, Skyhold, how they think things are going back in Kirkwall right now. They watch the people going to and fro, too, builders still working on repairing what age has done with the castle, a few mages helping them with lifting, people who walk with purpose and people who dawdle around. Eventually, a lady who calls herself Leliana comes to speak with them. They ask where Varric is, and are told he's out with the Inquisitor, but that he should be back within the next few days. Apparently, a raven is already sent to alert him of their presence. They don't ask how she knows who they are; she has the air about her of someone who knows much and tells little, at least to those she does not trust. They request somewhere to live while they're here, and she shows them to a set of quarters near the great hall. They're clearly meant for people of high stature – large, soft beds, and good-quality furniture – and they are left alone to decide their rooms. In the end, Aveline and Fenris take rooms to either side of Brand's. They put their things there – it isn't much; a few sets of clothes each and some smaller items – and decide to have a look around the castle.
***
They spend the next few days exploring the castle. Brand talks with anyone and everyone about the Inquisition, hears their words and what they think of it and what it does for them. He speaks with elves and mages, servants and soldiers, builders and healers. In the tavern he meets the qunari captain of a sellsword company and his lieutenant, and speaks at length about the Tal-Vashoth in Kirkwall – some of them choosing new names for themselves, some keeping their old, all of them doing good – and hears the Qunari's opinion of them. Aveline speaks with the lieutenant – Krem, he calls himself – hearing what their company does, how they help the Inquisition and how the Inquisition helps them. Fenris finds another elf, and they seem to enjoy one another's company, share certain opinions.
Later, Brand meets a mage in fine clothes, speaks with her about the Chantry and mages and Kirkwall. They disagree on much, he finds, despite their both being mages. He meets another mage, below the library, an elf, and learns about the past and the present, about the rifts and their effects. He doesn't understand everything, but then he hasn't spent years studying it, either, and he asks when something confuses him.
Nobody questions the staff on his back or the armour on his person, nor the cane he walks with. Some ask about his past, how a person nobody had heard of could rise to become the viscount of a city. Once, he could talk for hours about farming. He finds that ability in him is much diminished. He's forgotten much, he finds to his dismay, and wonders if he should start tending the land again.
Aveline finds an old Warden near the stables, and they talk about fighting and soldiers and command, about the good the Grey Wardens did. He seems surprised when she says it, surprised anyone would remember them at all outside a blight, much less in a positive way. Brand talks with the stablemaster, learns about the strange animals the Inquisition brought back, harts and horses and lizards and much besides. Fenris stays with the animals, seemingly content to enjoy their presence. Brand can see the good effect it has on him, how some of the stress washes away. He knows things are not so bad for Fenris any more, that nightmares of mages and lyrium no longer torment him so, but all the same, being around so many mages is not good for him, for his head.
Brand meets with Cullen some days in. They talk much of Kirkwall, of the past and the present and the future, of what the city has become and what it could become. They talk of memories and templars, and Brand tells him how the templars in Kirkwall fare. They are part of the city watch, now, together with many of the Tal-Vashoth and some mages. Cullen seems amazed at what Brand has achieved in only a few short years, and worried over what the Chantry may do to reassert control of the city. He tells about the Inquisitor, how, in truth, they spend more time in the field than at the war table, seeming much more happy to travel around with companions than making the decisions that need to be taken for the Inquisition to do its job.
***
A week passes before Varric returns to Skyhold. Trumpets play, loud enough that the whole castle hears, as a party of travellers and several full carts enter through the gates. The Inquisitor has returned, it seems, and the castle did not waste time in announcing it. Brand decides to stay where he is, up at the battlements, rather than spend an agonising half-hour making his way to the great hall or the stables. There were far too many stairs in the castle for his liking, though of course Kirkwall was not much better.
“They must love the Inquisitor greatly indeed, to pull such cheer at the sound of the trumpets.” comments Fenris beside him, and Brand could not help but agree. All about, people seem to light up as the trumpets sounded, and he knows this the sight of a regent loved. For was that not what the Inquisitor was, truly? He knew well enough by now that, should the Inquisitor so desire, the Inquisition was strong enough to conquer any one of the Free Marches cities without problems. And he did not doubt that some in Kirkwall would welcome it.
Well. Better the Inquisitor than the Chantry of five years ago. He had heard the words of the people here, and though he knew they would be biased by their love, he also knew how to hear the truths. Mages walked free, with neither oaths nor templars to shackle them, and what resources were brought in were spent on aiding people, helping those struck by Corypheus, by the Orlesian Empire, by any number of things. Even enemies of the Inquisition were shown mercy, according to many. One who would cause the whole world's doom had been given freedom to research as he desired. Many who fought against the Inquisition were allowed to go home if they so desired, or even aid the Inquisition.
“I'll go get Varric for you” he hears Aveline say when the people dispersed and went back to their jobs. Good. Aveline would pull less attention than Fenris, even if they had been there a few days.
He asks one of the passing soldiers if it was normal for such cheer to be raised at the return of the Inquisitor, and was told yes, and that it was not unusual for it to last some days either. They loved their leader very dearly, so it would seem.
When Varric arrives at the battlements, Brand pulls him into a bear hug, telling him “I thought I told you to stay out of danger, Varric” and receiving a “Says you, letting Tal-Vashoth into the city unsupervised and standing against the Chantry when they come knocking” in return. They talk at length together, about things that could not go in a letter in case it were intercepted, about plans and people and stories, until the sun hangs red and low over the mountains and then some, until the stars come out and they shiver from the cold that set in within what seemed like minutes.
***
When he realises that the mage the Inquisitor had brought along was a Tevinter, he tracks the man down and explained to him very carefully what Fenris would likely do if he found out. The man seems a good person, regardless of his origins, though he does also seem a mite arrogant. He's also far too flirty for Brand's tastes, and Brand makes sure to explain very thoroughly how disinterested he is in anyone, in any way besides platonic. It's a routine he's gone through many times already, and this is not the first person he's disappointed and confused with it.
***
A few days later – for Varric seemed nervous about them meeting – The Inquisitor came to the battlements with Varric to meet Brand - for truly, it was Brand who had the information they so desperately needed, alongside Ciaran, only Ciaran had not yet arrived.
“Inquisitor. It is an honour to finally meet you.” was answered with a “Truly, the honour is mine, my lord. If even half of what Varric has told me about you is true, you are an extraordinary person indeed”
“Please, call me Brand. 'My lord' sounds so stuffy, and I was a farmer long before I became a Viscount.” he means what he says. He'd never liked the titles or the balls or any of that; he found it all far too pompous for his liking.
“As you wish. No need to stand on ceremony for my sake, either. I have to agree with you on the titles.” It was rare to hear Trevelyan's name, rather than title. Most people were caught on the snag of faith, or could not see the person beneath the title. For it was only a human, after all, on whose shoulders the entirety of the Inquisition seemed to rest. It was no surprise, then, that Trevelyan preferred to stay in the field. Even the running of only Kirkwall would leave Brand worn and weary every day, and he could scarcely imagine the work it took to run an organisation such as this one. They were lucky indeed to have the advisors they did.
They speak much, not only of Corypheus, but also of ruling, of the Chantry and the mages and the templars, until a lady in a ruffly dress appears on the battlements and tugs Trevelyan along with barely a glance. It is something Brand has seen before, an ability of Merrill's and Isabela's on Ciaran, and he does not doubt its potency.
***
Finally, finally, Ciaran shows up. Merrill and Isabela and Anders are all with her, Maker be praised, and look to be in a decent shape too. At least, they do from his viewpoint by the entrance to the great hall. He manages to pull himself up and get his cane, and makes his way slowly down the stairs to the bailey to meet them. Halfway down, Anders notices him and goes to help, the others soon following. He refuses their help – he's managed for years already, and he will manage even now – but embraces them as soon as he's down. Many years have gone by since they saw each other last, but their love has not diminished; they are family, after all, a family they built on their own, and it will take more than years and distance to tear them apart. He keeps the letters in a little stone chest in his house, so they will not be lost or burned away, and he keeps the words encased in them within his heart – Ciaran's sarcasm and goofy comments, Isabela's wit and filthy jokes, Merrill's honest naïveté and wonder, Anders' observations spiced with Justice's frankness. He treasures them deeply, and the joy he feels at finally reuniting with their writers cannot be described.
They stay like that for a while, simply basking in each others' presences. Eventually, though, they have to break apart, though by then Aveline and Fenris and Varric had joined in the hug. Brand leads them all to his own quarters, still refusing assistance, and they get well and thoroughly drunk that night, ending up in a pile on the floor - Brand's bed is too small to hold them all, and they take all the blankets and duvets and pillows they can find and make a pile of softness to sleep in.
***
Come morning, when the sun sits high in the sky, someone knocks on the door, first softly and then more firmly. Ciaran wakes first, but she lays near the middle of the pile, her head in Isabela's lap and Merrill halfway atop her. She's loath to wake anyone else, but the knocks don't look like they'll die down any time soon either, so she looks about herself for who's lying nearest the edge that she can reach without waking anyone. It turns out to be Fenris, near her feet and curled up next to Brand. She pokes him with said feet until he grumbles an annoyed “what?”, and she manages to drag his attention to the door, where the knocking is still getting louder, ever so slowly. With an angry sound, he gets up and opens it. Outside stands someone in mage's robes, tan and dark-haired and moustached, and a few years ago she might have easily fallen for him. Now, though, she was plenty happy with what she had.
When he sees Fenris, he seems to tense up in fear, and doesn't respond at first when Fenris repeats the question he had asked Ciaran a few moments ago. Then, in the most hilariously false Antivan accent Ciaran's ever heard, he says the Inquisitor has requested the Hawkes' presence. Having said his piece, he walks away, a little stiff-legged, and Fenris shuts the door and curls up again where he'd been before. It'll take many more hours before anyone will get up, Inquisitor's summons or no. Ciaran lets herself get cozy again, already starting to doze off, happy and cared for and warm with affection for the people around her.
Hours later, people finally start to wake up, some complaining about their heads. Merrill complains only a little, but Anders and Justice do it more, and louder, arguing between themselves about it. Brand isn't admitting it, but she knows he's nursing a hangover too, and decides they'll all have a good meal at the tavern. They manage to make their way down there,but as soon as the food has reached them, a kid in armour appears and tells them the Inquisitor wants them in the war room immediately, and that if they do not go at once, the kid has been authorised to get the guards to drag them there physically. While Ciaran somewhat doubts their ability to do this, she also figures that pissing off their host to the point of being physically dragged somewhere within a day of arriving probably isn't a good idea. She grabs Brand by the arm, as well as some food off both their plates, and hauls him along to the war room. The kid shows the way and she shoves half the food into Brand's palm and eats the rest. When they open the doors, several other people are already present; she recognises Knight-Commander Cullen from Kirkwall, as well as the mage from earlier that morning. They're all standing around a huge, ornate map table, its features raised and sunken according to the geography of the lands. Brand stands next to her, managing to look more tired than she feels, a feat in and of itself. She notes, that, despite this, one of the people around the table seems somewhat starstruck at her presence, despite her tiredness and the fact she's only wearing a pair of breeches worn soft with use and a stained tunic. Brand fares little better, in similar clothes and the addition of the food still in his mouth. She hears someone saying “Thank you, Krem” and looks at the speaker and oh, that was a nice looking someone. Deciding that the time for saving themselves from embarrassment or awkwardness had already passed, she instead opened with a “So! Here we are, finally”, hiding her lingering bits of fear behind bravado. Because she did fear them. She feared bringing Anders here, to the den of the lion, so to speak, and she feared for Brand being here, and she feared for Merrill most of all, that someone would come along and tear them all apart, because this was a Chantry organisation, whether the Chantry itself supported it or not.
“Finally, indeed” comes the answer from a lady in purple robes. She seems unimpressed with them, if a little amused, and Ciaran decides she doesn't care – she arrived yesterday, and if they expected her to be ready for a war council the immediate morning after, they are sorely mistaken. Finally, the person who thanked the kid – Krem? - speaks up again, introducing themselves as “Trevelyan” and asking how Ciaran's trip had been. She's a little taken aback at the question – it rings honest, but it's a strange question to ask in what looks like it will be a war council. She responds honestly enough, though sarcasm manages to make its way into her words all the same.
***
Some time later, the rest of them turn up as well, and the mage with the moustache – Dorian, she remembers – starts doing that ridiculous accent again. As it turns out, he's from Tevinter, and Ciaran guesses that someone tracked him down to explain Fenris to him. She wonders how long he'll keep that accent up, if he'll do it the whole time they're all there.
The people there are reluctant to let them all in, until Trevelyan speaks up, saying to let them in. It gets somewhat crowded, but the others pitch in with details often enough to make it worth it.
***
The council drags on and on, until Isabela and Ciaran both decide they've had enough, and drag Merrill out with them, making some quick excuses; she knows Brand will cover it easily enough. They make their way to the area where Brand and Aveline and Fenris' bedrooms were and pick one at random, barring the door behind themselves.
***
It doesn't take long before the rest of them decide to call it quits too. Brand has already gotten Trevelyan's assurances that Anders will not be imprisoned for his actions – it was something they had all agreed on, that they would not aid the Inquisition without those reassurances – but he is still reluctant to leave Anders alone, and pulls him and Fenris and Aveline along to the tavern for a late dinner. Fenris and Anders get on far better now than in the past; they still bicker, but it is of the friendly kind, and they found long ago that they share many views. Brand does not doubt they've missed one another, no matter how they may have started. Ten years of friendship, even if it started in rivalry, is nothing to scoff at.
***
They don't end up in quite as big a pile now. Varric had to deal with other business immediately after the council, and Brand has an idea of what Merrill and Isabela and Ciaran are doing together. They still end up sleeping on the floor, though, too tired from the council to bother pulling the mattresses and sheets and pillows into the bed.
***
The next morning drags on, but there is no knocking at the door to attempt to drag them up; presumably, the Inquisition has learned how futile that effort is. Of course, they wake a mite earlier too, making their way to the tavern. Brand knows there will be no sight of Ciaran until it is much later in the day, either, for the joys of an actual bed rather than a ship's cot or a bedroll are many. Instead, he decides to show Anders about the castle, introducing him to some of the mages Brand has spoken with over the past few weeks. He doesn't speak of Anders' actions, of course, and the mages do not ask; Anders seems happy to learn of how the Inquisition treats them, the freedoms they are afforded. And it is amazing; much as in Kirkwall there are no shackles on the mages here, and they are free to do as they please without fear of templars. There are some, of course, but they are those who wish to see mages as equals, rather than slaves and prisoners.
***
More days pass, some with meetings and councils, others not. Once, they have to stand on ceremony as Trevelyan decides the fate of some poor sod. It's over quick enough, and the verdict is a merciful one; far more merciful than Brand would have been able to afford in Kirkwall. The benefits of being the Herald of Andraste, he supposes, even if Trevelyan themself doubts their status.
***
A week and a half passes. Brand and Ciaran both send out letters to old contacts, trying to see who is yet alive. Two of them answer the letters, a pair of wardens the Hawkes met when they fought Corypheus. They agree that Ciaran will meet them outside Crestwood, alongside Trevelyan and a few others. Brand curses his leg, that he can't go as well, and resigns himself to staying in Skyhold and hearing how things go in Kirkwall. Aveline wants to know, too, he knows, but he wishes he could go with Ciaran.
***
Days pass, and Ciaran returns with Trevelyan and the Wardens. Brand speaks with them, too, talking of all the things there was no time or chance to in a letter, things that would do harm if the letter was found by the wrong party. They talk of adventures had, of Kirkwall and Orlais and Ferelden and the Wardens, of Blights and of people. Because that's what so much of it comes down to, isn't it? The people. It's the people the wardens fight for, the people Brand fought for. The only difference was the scale, for where Ciaran and Brand fought only for themselves, and then their friends, and then eventually for all of Kirkwall, Stroud and Loghain and the other wardens fight for all of Thedas, for every beggar and every king, reward or no.
***
Investigations are set into action, and the Western Approach draws the Inquisition's gaze. Ciaran and the wardens head out together with Trevelyan, and Brand settles in for many more days of doing nothing. Well, not nothing – he receives mail now and again from Kirkwall, asking his permission or opinion, and he takes his time learning the Inquisition's position in relation to the other powers in Thedas, as well as its tactics, and he does spend much time with the others. But he worries over Ciaran, and his focus slips away from the letters and the writing more easily than normal. Getting through it is twice the struggle it normally is, and he finds himself distracted from the games and conversations. He knows Merrill and Isabela are worrying as much as him. There's nothing they can do, though, but distract themselves and hope.
***
Ciaran returns again, still living, although with some scratches and bruises. Anders pulls her with him to heal her, Isabela and Merrill following as Merrill chatters about what she's found out about the castle and its inhabitants. Brand knows he won't see her again for a while, but just the knowledge that she's alive and in one piece is enough to soothe his mind.
***
Many weeks pass, now, and Brand half wonders if he should return to Kirkwall soon. He's been away for most of two months by now, and Skyhold is even less friendly towards his leg than Kirkwall was. But he knows he won't, not until the business of the wardens at least is finished. He decides to join the Inquisition in going to Adamant, if only to feel like he's doing something worthwhile. Of course, that prompts the rest of them to follow too – Ciaran was already going to go, but without him at Skyhold there's little reason for the rest of them to stay there either, so they all go together. It's a fun trip, far more fun than what might be expected from a journey down the mountains to besiege one of the strongest fortresses in all of Orlais, formerly abandoned or no.
When they reach Adamant, the siege is set up quickly enough. The fortress has been repaired of most of the wear of hundreds of years of not being used, and the walls are strong. When the gates finally crack, Brand and Ciaran fight together, but soon find they do not fit as they once used to; Brand is out of practice from spending his time ruling instead of fighting, and Ciaran has become used to fighting alongside Merrill and Anders and Isabela, and her style has changed with it. So they split that way instead, Brand taking Fenris and Aveline and Varric. They still wreak havoc on the battlefield, but it is not the same.
They shred their way into the main bailey, where the wardens fight amongst themselves, and then into the courtyard, where they find the Venatori the Inquisition has been searching for. Trevelyan shouts for the rituals to stop, and convinces the Warden-Commander just as the Venatori calls down a dragon to attack them all. The bridge collapses beneath them, and Trevelyan opens a rift to save them all, and in the next moment they're trapped in the Fade with no way out.
***
The time in the fade is distorted – it feels like hours pass for one, while another feels only minutes. They do a headcount, and find five of them have fallen in – Brand, Stroud, Trevelyan, Dorian, and Cassandra. It feels like there is another, but the subject slips from Brand's mind whenever he thinks about it, and he chalks it up to the raw Fade playing tricks with their minds.
***
They manage to claw their way to the rift, only for a demon to show up, blocking it off. Brand thinks of all who would be lost, should it make its way out, and readies himself to make a desperate last stand, buy the rest of them time to make it out, and he can feel Stroud doing the same beside him. Together, they'll surely manage to buy Trevelyan and the others enough time to get out.
***
Ciaran and the others are left to watch as several people plummet from the bridge, and she can hear something scream in the distance as she watches it happen, some creature, utterly inhuman, howling its lungs out, and it takes a long while for her to realise it is herself, as she collapses where she stands and wails. The world goes blurry about her, and she can't think of anything but Brand, Brand's body crushed on the rocks beneath, dead, broken, gone. Distantly, she feels people touching her, but she cares little for that, not with Brand dead gone smashed shattered gone.
***
The Inquisitor returns from the Fade.
Brand doesn't.