So we're finally to Skyhold! Damned but it's been a long time coming - now I get to really work on that promised romance! :P

Chapter Text

Over the following week the Inquisition gradually moved into Skyhold, assigning quarters and distributing goods to the people. Rubble was cleared away to make space in the courtyard, and repair work started on the more essential sections - the outer walls, battlements, and the stairs that led to them. The interior of the keep itself needed the most work, but all agreed with Cullen’s decision to secure their position first, which meant that rubble was everywhere inside. Spaces were cleared for a few chairs and tables here and there, and Josephine claimed an antechamber room for her office. The hallway from there led to what they were going to use as the new War Room, and Leliana had some workers cutting a table for the oversized map to rest on.

Fen’Falon stepped out of the tower room she was using temporarily and paused, enjoying the sight of everyone running around doing things. The Inquisition leaders were all huddled together across the courtyard from her, deep in conversation about something. Cassandra saw the mage and beckoned her to join the group. Fen’Falon was surprised and pleased at continuing to be included in the decisions of these leaders - it meant they trusted her and hopefully valued her opinion. Realistically though, Fen’Falon was nearly certain that she was only included because she was the supposed Herald of Andraste. She was there so the people had faith in the decisions being made, so that they saw the Inquisition leaders working with their saviour. Fen’Falon didn’t mind, not really, since it also meant that she occasionally got to actually make decisions.

As Fen’Falon walked up to the group, all except Cassandra walked away. Fen’Falon had a paranoid thought that they had been discussing her but quickly drove it from her mind.

“The people are coming in daily from all over,” Cassandra said. “Some see it as a pilgrimage.” Cassandra stepped away from Fen’Falon and indicated that the elven mage should follow.

“The Elder One surely knows about us now, if this many people have heard.” Cassandra led Fen’Falon up one of the intact stairs that led into the upper courtyard. “We have walls and the people to defend ourselves with, but the threat he poses is beyond the war the Inquisition is equipped to handle. But we now know what allowed you to stand against him and what drew him to target you.”

Fen’Falon paused and Cassandra stopped as well. Fen’Falon raised her left hand, the mark still glowing a strong green even now. “He wanted this. He called it the Anchor. And now it’s bonded to me or somesuch and useless to him, so he wants me dead. There’s nothing special to it.”

Cassandra gave Fen’Falon a look that she couldn’t read and continued walking. “Yes, the Anchor has power, but that is not why you are still standing here. Your decisions allowed us to heal the sky. Your determination aided us out of Haven. You are that thing’s rival because of what you did. And we know it. All of us.”

They came to the only intact stair that led into the keep’s main hall and Fen’Falon followed Cassandra up to the first landing. On the landing was Leliana, holding an enormous greatsword that Fen’Falon had never before seen. She wondered if they had forged here at Tarasyl’an Te’las or if they had somehow brought it from Haven. As they approached Leliana, Cassandra turned to face Fen’Falon and stopped.

“The Inquisition needs a leader: the one who has already been leading it,” said Cassandra. Fen’Falon looked out over the lower courtyard and saw that Cullen and Josephine had gathered the Inquisition’s soldiers and followers. The advisors had ambushed her with this offer and there was no good way to refuse it. Now Fen’Falon understood. She was to be a figurehead, a symbol for the people who had followed her here to Skyhold, for the people who had seen her stand up to Corypheus in Haven. Fen’Falon could live with that, she thought.

“It needs you,” Cassandra told her.

“You would have a mage - a Dalish elven mage - lead your Inquisition?” Fen’Falon asked. “Are you sure?”

“You are the one the people look to. You are the one who can stand against Corypheus.”

Fen’Falon sighed. She hated being ambushed like this. “Fine. What do I need to do?”

“Take up the sword. What it means for our future, how you lead us, that is up to you.” Fen’Falon thought it almost sounded like Cassandra was serious about letting her lead the Inquisition, which was madness. No world leader would listen to a Dalish mage, regardless of the kind of power and reputation backing her. Either way, as a figurehead or as a leader in truth, Fen’Falon didn’t think she really had a choice. If the Inquisition wanted to continue as it was, it needed her and the power of this mysterious Anchor.

The sword in Leliana’s hands was a thing of beauty. The blade was mirror-bright like Templar armour, and the hilt was a work of art. Made from what appeared to be drakestone and bronze, a slender wingless dragon coiled about the guard such that its head rested on the blade itself. The pommel was simply a fatter piece of the hilt, but it served to counterbalance the weapon nicely. Fen’Falon grasped it by the hilt and lifted, stunned by how lightweight the blade was. Whatever the cutting edge was made from, it was not steel.

“I will do this,” Fen’Falon said. “An elf will stand for the Inquisition, for us all, to show the world that prejudice can be overcome. I’m not some chosen one to lead the charge - I want it known that I lead because I chose to do so. And I will lead us to a path without Corypheus, without the breach.”

“I am with you wherever you choose to lead us,” Cassandra said. The Seeker and Leliana turned to stand on either side of Fen’Falon.

“Have the Inquisition’s people been told?” Fen’Falon asked Josephine. The Rivaini stood forward from the crowd in the lower courtyard.

“They have. And soon the world will know,” Josephine said.

“Commander,” Fen’Falon directed to Cullen. “Will they follow me?” She wondered if any of the advisors save Leliana - who always seemed to know everything - knew that she was testing the boundaries of her power.

Cullen turned to the crowd and repeated the question. He was met with an enthusiastic cheer. “Will you fight for us?” he asked. The crowd cheered again. Cullen unsheathed his sword and held it aloft with one final rally cry: “Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!”

Fen’Falon took that as her cue to raise the dragon-sword high. The sun caught her face as she did, making her eyes appear bright gold and her hair a deep red, fey and otherworldly when combined with her elfin features. The cheering grew and grew until Fen’Falon could swear that she felt it under her skin and in her bones. She thought she would remember this moment for the rest of her life.

With the chain of command settled, the new Inquisitor and her newly-minted advisors entered the keep. Josephine had already claimed an office space, and Cullen seemed to want to be out in the courtyard or a tower adjacent to it in order to be closer to his soldiers and recruits. The group of five pointed and argued and finally settled on who went where and had what space inside the keep so that they would not step on each others’ toes trying to find things and get organised.

The largest suite of rooms was given to Fen’Falon, and only one staircase led to it from the main hall. It was large enough that Fen’Falon thought if she opened all the balcony doors, she could almost pretend she slept outside, as she preferred. For some reason the advisors balked at the idea that she wanted to sleep in what had clearly once been a garden, insisting that the leader of the Inquisition have rooms inside the keep. Josephine was naturally the most vocal, and further insisted that she be allowed to furnish the room. Fen’Falon did not think anyone but herself and Josephine would ever see the space, though, so she let the Rivaini lady have her way. The balconies looked out over the caldera, a view filled with snow-covered mountains and scraggly trees that managed to survive the mountaintop weather, a view that suited Fen’Falon perfectly fine.