Chapter Text
Lydra Surana Lavellan’s search for Fen’Harel has taken them to strange places. In the past six months, they have dreamt at every shrine to the Dread Wolf they know of, sleeping in snowy mountain passes and lonely forest glens only to wake with fading impressions of a wolf’s tail vanishing into mist. They have tracked every lead they could find on agents of Fen’Harel, only to hit dead end after dead end. Frustrating as this was, Lydra had expected that Solas would not let himself be found easily. What they had not expected in the course of their search was an invitation to the Marquise of the Dales’ cottage on Lake Celestine.
Lydra has heard a great deal about this favored retreat of Orlais’ nobility. Calling the luxurious villas “cottages" at all seems a farce to Lydra, but it is one that even Marquise Briala insists on.
Upon their arrival, Lydra is led to a sitting room where the Marquise waits, unmasked and dressed more for comfort than ceremony as she pours two steaming cups from a dainty teapot.
“It is good to see you, Keeper,” Briala says with a polite smile and nod, which Lydra returns.
“You know, you might be the first person to use my new title without accidentally calling me Inquisitor first,” they say with a smile as they sit across from her on an appropriately Orlesian sofa.
Briala smirks. “I have been a Marquise for three years now, and many nobles at court still barely remember to address me as ‘my lady.’ This is Orlais though, so it’s almost certainly intentional.”
Lydra nods ruefully. “I wish I could say that surprised me,” they muse before taking a sip of their tea.
“Do you prefer it?” Briala asks, voice genuinely curious. “Being Keeper of Skyhold, rather than Inquisitor, I mean?”
“Oh, certainly,” Lydra responds immediately. “I never asked to be Inquisitor, and that title…” they sigh, “I’m glad that it meant enough to people to let me make a difference, but…it never really sat right with me. As much as most humans like to pretend otherwise, I’m not even Andrastean,” they let out a humorless chuckle. “Being Keeper of Skyhold is very different from the kind of Keeper I trained to be, but… being called that still means a great deal.”
Briala nods, and the two elves sip their tea in silence for a few moments.
At dinner after the ceremony in Denerim where Lydra was officially named Keeper of Skyhold three months earlier, King Alistair had explained that he had decided on that title because “it seemed to fit better than Lord or Lady, and what’s the point of being king if I can’t try out a new title every now and then? Maybe next time I’ll use something like Grand Poobah….” Nonetheless, they suspect that their brother had a hand in his former comrade-in-arms’ choice of the title. It’s also their understanding that he had been the one to approach Josephine with the idea of leveraging his connections as the Hero of Ferelden to have Lydra ennobled “for their service to the people of Ferelden.” This not only ensured that their claim to Skyhold remained unchallenged, but also better insulated them from the fallout that would come as the truth about Solas spread— which it inevitably would, despite their best efforts to contain it.
“I’d like to thank you again for agreeing to meet alone,” Briala says, pulling Lydra from their wandering thoughts. “I know that it is a lot to ask, but I do not do so lightly.”
Lydra nods, lowering their cup. “I assumed as much. My spymaster briefed you on the situation, so you know that Fen’Harel and his agents are a… delicate topic.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Briala replies, placing her cup on its saucer.
It had been a monumental task to convince Cassandra to let Lydra meet with Briala alone. Since their complete collapse in the weeks after the Exalted Council, which they had brilliantly followed up by disappearing for two weeks without a word to anyone, those who remain at Skyhold now keep a very close eye on Lydra. They are seldom left alone for more than a few hours at a time, and never manage to leave Skyhold without a full entourage. As frustrating as their companions’ concern can be, Lydra tolerates it; they know that it’s not entirely unwarranted, after all.
For this meeting, Lydra and Cassandra had reached a compromise that the former Seeker would personally escort them in a coach driven by an armed guard, but only Lydra would attend the meeting. That last concession had been especially hard won, but Briala was their strongest lead so far, and all of them knew that they could not afford to refuse her demand for privacy.
“Were you not an elf yourself, I’d think you assume I have information based on my having connections above my station,” Briala smirks as she speaks, and Lydra finds themself mirroring the expression. “But I am certain that you have had to deal with the same sort of assumption yourself. So, I must ask; why are you here today? Why contact me about this?”
“A fair question,” Lydra acknowledges. “When I last saw him, So…” Fenhedis, even saying his name still hurts. They grit their teeth and continue “…The Dread Wolf told me that you were in control of part of the eluvian network, and that one of his agents had failed to take that control from you,” Lydra explains. “That makes you the only person we can confirm has had contact with an Agent of Fen’Harel. If anyone has actual information on the Dread Wolf and his agents, it’s you.”
Briala tilts her head, intrigued. “You consider the word of the god of lies confirmation, then?” she asks.
Lydra smirks “It’s never that simple with him. God of lies he may be, but at least where I’m concerned, most of that has been…by omission only.” Refusing to dwell on that, Lydra pushes forward, seeing the opening Charter had told them to look out for. “But if I recall correctly, this meeting was at your behest. My spymaster reached out to you about this, but that was months ago, right after the Exalted Council. So perhaps I should be asking you; why am I here today, Marquise?”
Briala is silent for a few moments, and though her expression remains neutral, Lydra knows she is surprised. “Well played, Keeper,” she finally says with a nod and a small smile. “It is refreshing to dispense with the verbal fencing and get straight to the heart of the matter.” She takes a sip of her tea before continuing.
“You are here today because I believe that we can help each other. I have had contact with someone who I had suspected, but based on what you’ve just told me, I am now certain was an Agent of the Dread Wolf– likely the one he tasked with taking back the key to the eluvians. I also believe that he was similar to your…” she pauses meaningfully “… acquaintance.”
Lydra bristles at the obvious euphemism, and has to remind themself that Briala, like so many others, is just trying to be polite. “In what way was he similar?” they ask.
Briala’s brow furrows. “I cannot be certain, but I don’t believe he is an ordinary elf. A modern one, that is.”
Lydra raises an eyebrow. “Really?” They know it’s not impossible. If Mythal’s Sentinels are still around, others from Solas’ time could also have survived into the present.
The Marquise sighs heavily. “It’s the only explanation that makes any sense– not that it’s all that sensible, really,” she sighs heavily before explaining. “I’d always assumed he was Dalish until I actually met a Dalish clan, and they were nothing like him, and when I asked him outright after that, well… he didn’t say no, but he didn’t say yes, either. And he spoke of ancient Elvhenan as if… as if he’d been there.”
Lydra’s eyes flash at this, and they can’t stop themself from asking “when you asked how he knew things, what did he say? Did he ‘learn it from his journeys in the Fade?’” they ask, attempting to mimic Solas’ somber baritone.
Briala shakes her head, smiling. “No- he’d tell me ‘that’s just what the old songs say, da’len,’” she also affects a deep voice with a vaguely Dalish accent, and Lydra can't contain a burst of laughter.
It’s apparently contagious, and for several moments the two elves sit giggling into their tea. Lydra is no bard, but they like to think they’ve learned a thing or two from Leliana and Charter about reading people, and in this moment Briala seems completely genuine– another opening, perhaps.
“So,” Lydra says once the laughter dies down. “What else can you tell me about this… agent?”
“Former agent,” Briala clarifies, “and… I had hoped he might tell you himself. It is as I said; I believe we can help each other.”
Now it’s Lydra who is caught off guard, struggling to move their prosthetic hand fast enough to lower their cup to its saucer without spilling any tea. “Is- is he here?” they ask, unconsciously lowering their voice to a near-whisper as they fight the impulse to turn their head and sweep the room for spies.
“He is safe and in my care,” is all Briala says in reply, her face so still it may as well be a mask.
“And what sort of help would this exchange require from me?” they ask, trying not to sound too surprised or eager.
Briala’s smile takes on a rueful edge. “As you’ve likely gathered, the situation is… complicated. “Felassan– the former agent, I mean– is…Tranquil.”
The word hits Lydra like a blast of ice to the chest, as it always does. Whatever his history, this man did not deserve that. No one did. “How did that happen?”
“I am not certain, and his answers to my questions are vague… but that’s nothing new,” Briala says, and she sounds almost fond. “Regardless of how it happened, for the last few years I’ve heard whispers that there is a chance he can be cured.” She holds Lydra’s gaze as she says this, and they know that she, too, is watching for any potential tells.
Lydra already knows what they will do, and suspects Briala does as well. They’ve known since she said the word Tranquil, but if there’s one thing they learned the value of in their time as Inquisitor, it’s information.
“Where did you hear those whispers?” Lydra asks, trying to keep their tone neutral.
“Oh, they were everywhere when the Mage Rebellion started. That’s all they were though- just rumors,” Briala explains. “Since finding Felassan in his… condition, I’ve been keeping a lookout for more information. A little bird– a Sparrow, if I’m not mistaken– recently told me that you might know something.”
Lydra raises an eyebrow when they hear a familiar name. “You know my brother?”
Briala’s smile widens. “Of course! Lady Morrigan was at the Empress' side for almost three years before joining your Inquisition, and the Hero of Ferelden and I often exchanged information when he visited her at court. He was often willing to help his fellow elves, and could always be relied on for magical advice– and if that advice brought trouble, Lady Morrigan could truthfully say it hadn’t come from her. In return, I would tell him whenever I heard about measures being taken against apostates here or abroad.”
“That does sound like Sparrow,” Lydra admits, still wary.
“All he told me was that I should speak with you,” Briala clarifies. “I’m certain he doesn’t know why I’m interested in the cure for Tranquility. He just thought that you and I could help each other.”
Lydra smiles “that also sounds like him.”
Briala nods and returns the smile before taking another sip of her tea. “I also know that the earliest rumors of a cure all involved the Seekers of Truth, and that an ex-Seeker is currently guarding your coach, which only strengthens my belief that if anyone can help Felassan, it’s you and your… I’m not sure what you’re calling yourselves now, but your associates.”
Lydra’s smile widens. “Touché, Marquise,” they say, impressed.
“I take pride in my work,” Briala replies.
“If he’s Tranquil, that means it’s almost impossible for him to lie,” Lydra starts “so… can’t you just ask him to tell you how it happened?”
Briala is silent for a moment before answering in a soft, subdued voice. “I could do that, but… I’ve known Felassan for… a long time, and he has always guarded his secrets closely. I know I could ask for all of them now, if I wanted, but…” her expression is pained now “that’s one thing I’m not sure he could forgive me for.”
As Briala takes a moment to collect herself, Lydra sees an opportunity, and acts quickly.
“So, I take it that you wouldn’t want us to question him until after a cure is attempted? Hypothetically speaking, of course,” they ask, voice deliberately light. It’s a risky question, and they can’t afford to sound too eager, but the potential advantage is too great to pass up.
Briala raises an eyebrow. “I… if that’s possible, yes,” she says, caught off guard.
“There’s a chance it may not even work, in which case this is a moot point,” Lydia explains, continuing to affect a casual attitude, “but if it’s what you would prefer, we can arrange for it.” Briala nods, and they know they have her. “I take it you two were- are close,” they say, voice soft as they offer the other elf an understanding smile.
“It’s a… long story,” Briala says, “but… he might be the closest thing to family that I have left, and… I think I might be that for him, too,” she muses. “If you decide to help us, I suppose I’ll have plenty of time to tell you on the journey to Skyhold,” she smiles as she says this, and neither of them acknowledge the sheen of tears in her eyes.
“I’d be interested to hear it,” Lydra says honestly. “How long has he been… like this?”
“About five years now,” Briala answers. “I found him with a Dalish clan in the Emerald Graves a few months after the civil war began. I’ve done my best to keep him comfortable since then.”
“Does anyone else know about him?” Lydra asks. How is it even possible to keep something— or someone— this unusual a secret?
“Only the staff here who care for him when I’m called away. They have my complete confidence,” she says, voice leaving no room for doubt or argument.
The two elves sip their tea in silence for several moments as Lydra takes that in. For the entire length of the Inquisition’s existence, a (possibly) ancient elvhen former agent of Fen’Harel was right here in Orlais, a stone’s throw away from the Inquisition’s agents, with no one the wiser. The implications are staggering to consider– and they will do so with Dorian over their sending crystal and a bottle of Seraultine white, once they have the time. For now, though, they must focus on the task at hand.
“Cassandra– the ex-Seeker, I mean– has been…reluctant to test the Reversal– that’s what we’re calling it, the potential cure,” Lydra explains. “From what we understand, it’s not without risk. If it works, the mage can become volatile and lose control over their emotions and their magic, and that’s if they even agree to the Reversal in the first place. I’m not sure how those risks change for ancient elves,” they muse.
“Why wouldn’t they agree?” Briala asks, genuinely curious.
Lydra shrugs “Like I said, the Reversal isn’t without risks, and it is untested. I don’t think anyone really wants to be the first to undergo a ritual that, for all we know, could fail spectacularly, and that we still don’t know the long-term effects of.” They take a sip of tea before continuing. “Most Tranquil aren’t used to making choices for themselves, let alone such important ones.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Briala muses.
“At this point, I’d say that’s our main hurdle to actually trying the Reversal; a lack of willing subjects,” Lydra explains.
“But if he does agree… you will try it? On him?” Briala asks, and for the first time in this conversation, she sounds hopeful, vulnerable.
“Of course– that’s the deal,” Lydra confirms. “As long as he agrees to it– which he might not, like I said.”
“I’m certain he will,” Briala insists. "If you have to convince anyone, it will be your Seeker friend.”
“I will,” Lydra says, resolute. “This is too important– she’ll see that.”
“Are you seriously proposing that we restore the magical abilities of an ancient, powerful mage believed to be an agent of Fen’Harel? Before we interrogate him?”
Cassandra looks almost comical, scowling in full-plate armor amid the pastels and delicate finery of Briala’s dainty sitting room, and Lydra sighs. Cassandra’s talent for presenting ideas she dislikes in the bluntest, least-flattering way possible continues to impress them.
“Former agent,” they correct her, taking a fortifying sip of tea.
At this, Cassandra’s perfectly-arched eyebrow somehow manages to rise even higher than it already has. “Whatever his status, how can we be certain of his loyalties? Tranquil cannot lie; would it not be easier to question him before the Reversal?”
“Those are not my terms,” Briala says, the hardness in her voice rivalling Cassandra’s. “You question him after at least attempting to cure him, or not at all.”
Cassandra looks to Lydra. “Surely you can see that this is madness, In-Keeper,”she hastily corrects herself. “If the Marquise and this Felassan can be trusted, what difference does it make whether we perform the Reversal before or after he gives us this information? Why would she want us to wait until he can lie, unless they have something to hide?”
Briala maintains a calm expression in the face of Cassandra’s accusations, but Lydra scowls, hiding their satisfaction and relief at the other elf’s quick adoption of their suggestion before replying. “If she had something to hide, then why tell us any of this?” they ask, trying to keep their voice even. “We are not the Inquisition anymore, Cassandra. We don’t have the power to demand answers, and acting as if we do will only hurt us in the long run. Marquise Briala has offered to help us, and we should accept her terms. It’s like you said,” Lydra continues, meeting Cassandra’s eyes “if they can be trusted, it shouldn’t matter whether Felassan tells us what he knows before or after the Reversal. So we’ll talk to him after.”
There is a tense beat of silence, and for a moment Lydra worries that they have overplayed their hand…then Cassandra heaves a heavy sigh. “That is if we can even get him to agree,” she grouses, conceding– for now.
“He will,” Briala says, voice certain. “That is one thing you can ask him yourselves.” She stands from the sofa and walks to the door. “I’ll inform Felassan that he has guests; a servant will fetch you to join us shortly,” she says, and with that the Marquise leaves the room.
Cassandra turns to Lydra, still confused. “I will support your decision,” she sighs “but I just… I don't understand, Lydra. Yes, you are an elf and a mage, but you know how high the stakes are.”
Hearing her use their given name, Lydra smiles, reassured. “I do… which is why we can’t afford not to do this right. And yes, I am an elf mage, so it is personal,” they add, “but the sooner we can cure Tranquility, the better. We owe it to every Tranquil to at least try– and this may finally be the willing test subject we need!” They can’t keep the excitement out of their voice– that, at least, is genuine.
Cassandra’s face softens. “Very well,” she sighs. “I hope neither of us regrets your insistence that I leave my sword with our driver,” she quips.
“No one here has any reason to harm us, least of all Felassan,” Lydra reassures Cassandra.
When they had first met in Haven’s dungeon, an elven apostate prisoner and the Right Hand of the Divine, neither Lydra nor Cassandra could have imagined that they would one day become allies, let alone friends. Yet here they are, almost four years later, working together to undo the Seekers of Truth’s greatest injustice against mages. Lydra is fairly certain that this fact alone would leave both of their past selves speechless, never mind that they had spent much of the journey from Skyhold in a spirited discussion of the latest Randy Dowager (the wildly inaccurate depiction of swordplay took Cassandra out of the story, but she agreed with Lydra that the ‘thrusting blade’ innuendos were entertaining, if cliched).
In short order, an elven servant arrives and bids Lydra and Cassandra follow her. As they walk in silence past sculptures and gilded columns, Lydra’s thoughts drift to Cassandra’s expression of shock and hurt at learning of Solas’ plans. When what Lydra sets in motion today comes to fruition, will Cassandra look at them the same way?
Will she even still be alive to do so?
Keeper of Skyhold
By the power invested in us by the Landsmeet, in recognition of their service to the Kingdom of Ferelden and the people of Thedas, we, King Alistair and Queen Cordelia, confer upon Lydra Surana of Clan Lavellan the keep of Skyhold, with all of the rights and privileges that accompany it. They shall henceforth bear the title Keeper of Skyhold.
-Royal Proclamation given at the annual Royal Firstday Celebration in Denerim, 9:45 Dragon