During Trevelyan’s time as Inquisitor, he’d traveled to a multitude of terrains, fought exotic beasts, and explored ancient, dilapidated structures still holding on. However, at the end of all those adventures, he and his companions needed a place to regroup - a place to call home. And that home was Skyhold, a castle that wasn’t exactly in good shape when they relocated from the destroyed village of Haven - holes in the roofs, rubble not cleared out, the place utterly a wreck. Yet slowly, over time, it began to grow and flourish - the walls were fixed, soldiers began patrolling, the interior suited personal tastes, merchants arrived to set up their stations; it became the very definition of a central hub. It became something of a safe haven.
He’d already woken up to find the ‘seat of power,’ as it were, the Judgment Throne. But the war table was the central command, where he received detailed reports from his advisers - it was a hunk of wood that told such an important story, the story of the Inquisition’s growth and helped Trevelyan, as a commander, make important decisions and feel like he had influence throughout the world. Seeing it here, in Orange County, gave him hope that the rest of Skyhold would be out there too. And truly, he wanted it to be - he wanted his companions to find their own spaces again, to make whatever they wanted their own. Leliana was partial to the rookery, Cullen liked the tower, Dorian preferred the library - not like Trevelyan could forget that massive leather-backed chair he acquired, the more he personalized everything.
The old, antique map of Thedas had arrived with the war table but also another map showing the Santa Ana mountains. There, nestled in the canyons facing Ortega Falls, was where they’d find what they were after.
Leliana looked at the map with him, and so he’d asked her to make a day of it. The hike was pleasant, the falls themselves still shimmering and refreshing - they dried up in the summer months, and were best in the spring. To reach Skyhold (if the map wasn’t trolling them), it wouldn’t be much longer now - they’d already gone a few miles, ascending higher and higher. Max had worn his light armor, the Staff of Corruption strapped to his back. Just in case.
“Been awhile since I’ve gone hiking,” he noted, opening his water bottle to take a swig. “At least this place won’t let me become out of shape.” What with the potential fortress up here, and the giant spiders down there and everything.
The roguish blades were retired for this trip - they were more reminiscent of her younger years as a bard, dual-wielding daggers while blending in with the shadows of the night. It was the recurve, a unique longbow with delicate and precise carving, the definition of Marjolaine’s most embedded lesson: just because something is deadly, there is no reason it cannot be beautiful. Perhaps it was a bit morbid, in a way, to carry her ex-lover’s preferred weapon but in a greedier perspective, she had always wanted it. And she finally got it after killing the woman and ripping it from her somewhat warm corpse.
It was Nightingale’s vengeful prize.
With it, strapped on her back, was a belt-style quiver with plenty of arrows. For today’s trek, Leliana had dressed in sturdy boots meant to withstand the elements, thick and durable tights meant for outdoor use and an open-back tunic shirt - it matched the lavender cowl that’d come with her Spymaster ensemble that she also wore today, held together by the Seeker’s broach.
“I don’t know if I prefer searching for this in the grasp of winter or the shriveling heat,” she mused, but she was faring well - she was light and lean, still very much with that assassin’s physique. “If only you could master levitation. An aerial view of our surroundings would be...helpful.” But travel by feet, using the direction of where the sun set and the rest of nature’s hints was what they relied on in the past. Very nostalgic, no? A very dainty hop off a fallen log she climb on crunched the twigs beneath her feet. “I did pack us toilet paper, should you need a stop for a break!”
They had the luxury of that here, thank the Maker. If Thedas only had the perks of indoor plumbing and more detailed hygiene, they’d be going places.
“If only,” Trevelyan chuckled - alas, that wasn’t really in his bag of tricks. But he had the map, and a compass, and knew how to navigate by way of that big, sizzling, ball of orange in the sky - so they’d be okay. “The path should be getting rockier and rockier, the more we go this way,” and it was decidedly off the beaten path also, the well-traveled hiking trails, which he supposed was a good thing. A mysterious structure appearing where everyone could see, that might be cause for concern.
He pressed on, with Leliana, once she’d hopped down from the log. “And how sweet, very ingenious - I think I’m good on the toilet paper for now, but I’ll let you know if that changes.” Yes, something soft on the bum was preferred over sorry, medieval excuses for such things - really, hygiene was just sad all around back then, it was better not thinking about.
“Imagine the possibilities, when we find it though.” When, not if.
Leliana had been a witness to seeing all sorts of thing cross this particular Veil of worlds. Skyhold being one of them wasn’t impossible in a place where things eventually became possible, both good and bad - but this one would be good. Very good, with a nice feeling of ‘coming home,’ she imagined. “You could reinstate the gardens,” she suggested, as they’d grown their own ingredients to harvest for sustenance and other purposes. Healing or poisons, the uses were vast. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if it came ready with a couple plants of our world.”
Stables for horses, the rookery with the presumably empty avian cages she’d get cozy in again, the Undercroft where the dwarven arcanist was typically found for crafting and upgrading equipment. The space station in the darkness of their galaxy - where Cindy somehow managed to nail a penthouse (she was envious!) - came equipped with all sorts of resources from that world - she hoped it would hold true with Skyhold.
As predicted, the terrain they were climbing against became particularly jagged, and a little more steep. They’d have to slow down a bit to make sure they were stepping on sturdy things; nothing that would slip in the loose dirt and cause an uncomfortable accident.
“Though I did have a bit of a..request, if you wouldn’t mind indulging me, dear Inquisitor?” Oh, she was putting the sweet charm on too, that ghostly foreign accent making her decadent voice much more irresistible. During her time as the Spymaster of the Inquisition she had referenced herself as the personification of death or what have you, but there was still the remnants of that quirky and adorable Lay Sister beneath all the layers of old blood.
He would actually love to get the gardens going at Skyhold - having an herb collection would be perfect, and he wouldn’t have to bug Morrigan all the time for samples. Between the two of them, they could work together and really have a flourishing setup. But anyway, now what was this? A request?
Trevelyan liked to think that he and Leliana reached a good balance in their work together, that he tempered the calls for bloodshed a little - sometimes it was the answer, sometimes it wasn’t, and overall as an Inquisitor he wasn’t very aggressive in general. More diplomatic, a lot tender-hearted. Exiling the Wardens (and really, he didn’t think he had the authority to make a decision like that) had been one of the rougher things he’d done - but even then, he’d done it for their own safety. If they were going to build themselves back up they’d need to do it in their own fortress, their own stronghold, away from the dangers of Corypheus - obviously, they were susceptible to a lot of peril and full-out mind control (given what had been revealed at Adamant).
Of course, he didn’t anticipate that shit would hit the fan at Weisshaupt, but when was shit not hitting the fan for the Grey Wardens. Seemed like they were doomed either way, as was the case with a lot of the Inquisition’s ‘adventures.’
“Uh oh,” he laughed a little, slowing his pace - the staff was removed from its holding on his back, and he used it to help navigate a little. Kind of for balance, as a trekking pole. “A request? Let’s hear it.”
Max could scarcely believe it would be too outlandish. Leliana seemed a bit calmer in this life too, no need to carry the burdens of the Chantry’s fuckups here. Which he was glad for.
“Well...” Now that her dearest baby bird knew, it was safe to alert the rest of the masses. Or merely the rest of her friends. Trevelyan would be the second, and she’d get to Isabela and Zatanna soon. “When we went to on our trip, in West Virginia -”
Woop! This was a hill to climb, and she even had to grip some of the neighboring chunks of rock embedded in the earth for a little more oomf. Hopefully some lay beyond it? At least a view of it in the distance or if they were lucky, the bridge itself that carried them into the castle structure.
Anyway, yes, back to the story. “Gale and I, well, we got engaged in this place called the Bald Knob,” snortgiggle, “and I was wondering if it was a possibility to use Skyhold as our venue?”
Leliana had mentioned it to Gale already, but her description didn’t do the site of it justice - she’d have to snap a couple pictures on the phone and send it to him so he could really see what she was talking about.
This particular tricky terrain was one of the more difficult parts of their hike to navigate, but Trevelyan managed - and he was listening, all at the same time, wait, what. Bald Knob? A puff of air that resembled a deep exhale in a whoosh, as he grabbed for a rocky handhold, also could be interpreted as a laugh. “Prime place to get engaged, and congratulations,” he stated grandly, with a warm smile.
He was happy for Leliana. She’d still been involved with the Hero of Ferelden when he dreamed, and their love seemed to have endured. In Thedas, it felt like being with someone for the long haul meant that you’d have to be okay with not being up each other’s asses 24/7 - or rather, separated for months at a time. There just wasn’t any marriage or white picket fences going on.
“I’d be honored if you wanted to have your wedding at Skyhold. Reception too, at the tavern, or wherever you want.” Bringing people up here would be a thing, but there were ways to do that besides going on foot; they could brainstorm, nothing would make him giddier than to be a part of The Big Day.
And sure enough, moving up and over the rock cluster brought them to the main gate - through it was the long bridge, connecting right to the very structure itself. That ancient keep, covered in the trappings of many different eras and factions throughout the years. What a magnificent sight the stone castle was.
There was some kind of expression of glee Leliana let out, some breathy and high-pitched yeeeeeeeeeey while keeping up, laced with a giggle. Success! Venue secured with no deposit required! “Thank you, it’s been quite the ride to get to this point,’’ she smiled. From not even wanting a stable relationship to finding herself one, and having roping her soldier into clandestine affairs that almost caused his death. It was the nudge they needed to get out while they still could, make something else of their lives that wasn’t death and blood running down the halls - it’s what she still was as the Divine, blades hidden in those holy robes. “I’d say we’re fortunate to even be alive after it all.”
Over the last hump and, Maker, there she was. Across the stretch, right into the heart within stone walls. Skyhold, with its high towers and powerful size. In comparison they were small, her and the Inquisitor.
“I would vote for the ceremony and reception to take place in one spot,” Leliana agreed, eyeing him with those powder blue eyes. “Now that I can see it up close again.” Her phone was snatched, woken up from its sleepy state and - snap of what was before them. Sending to Gale… Bam, time stamp. “Maybe you can get ordained and marry us in all your glorious Inquisitor-ness from your throne.”
“Would you really want me to?” Trevelyan asked and, well, in theory it shouldn’t be too difficult, should it? People got ordained all the time. And he did come from a pious family of preachers and ministers - so safe to say, he knew a thing or three. “Because you know I’d do it for you. I understand, about feeling lucky to be alive and wanting to make the most of it.”
Skyhold was a place for one hell of a destination wedding - and he could hardly believe that it was actually here. His own phone was also retrieved, a couple of pictures snapped to send to various people. It would take them a bit to traverse the whole bridge, being careful of course, but since they’d come this far he was curious about the state of the castle - was it as rundown as it had been when they first arrived before, or was it looking like it had once they’d settled?
“I think it’ll be a beautiful wedding,” he nodded, staff flipped around and returned to sling across his back. “Lots of people pay good money, to get hitched in a castle - we can call this one free of charge though,” the Inquisitor added, with a wink.
“If the groom approves, then yes,” she answered, giving the cheeky Inquisitor a pinch to the elbow. It’d be a good personal touch to things, and Gale would surely add his own - there was still plenty to discuss but the location of things was one of the bigger decisions. All they’d need is catering, and they at least had connections to a bakery? “So kind of you to offer your lair, Trevelyan.”
Across the bridge they went, the wind whistling around them. Leliana studied a bit of elven culture, fascinated by them - she’d overheard Solas call it Tarasyl’an Te’las, the direct translation of it being the place where the sky was held back. A reference to the Veil, perhaps? The elves always seemed to have so much more knowledge when it came to world history, the roots of the arcane and everything around it.
Well, most did. The Dalish, for example. “I hope we don’t have to go through the remodeling phase for it again, but the outside seems well? No holes. I see that as a triumph.”
Well, it wasn’t entirely his lair, but no trouble. The castle was here, why not make use of it for something happy? Of course, as they made their way inside, past the large and heavy entrance doors, Trevelyan felt kind of a sinking brick in his stomach - did this mean they’d need to use Skyhold for the purposes related to closing rifts, and a Breach, as well? He certainly hoped not, but it seemed unlikely that the appearance of the fortress was merely a generous gift and nothing more.
“No holes is a good first sign,” he agreed. “I would hate to have to worry about getting this place ready for a wedding - you should just be able to arrange something. I’m sure there will be enough stressors about the other details.” But he’d never planned a wedding, he was just assuming.
However, it looked like their wishes were granted - because upon walking inside, even in just the entranceway they’d see the decor was...very much intact. Personally, when it came time to make their new home a little more, well, homey - Trevelyan had chosen to incorporate a good representation of decor from all those who had a stake in the Inquisition. A lot of the design was Free Marches-themed, and bearing the Inquisition’s very own symbol, but there were other touches here and there - glass like what you’d find in Par Vollen, Andrastian drapes, and the northernmost tower was a mage tower, perfected for the purposes of practicing spells. There were even touches of Tevinter in the decor because, honestly, Trevelyan thought it was beautifully regal - all that black and red, with bronze dragon statues. Maybe it caused Josephine to frown and sigh, and guests would turn their noses up, but who cared - the aesthetics were beautiful and if you didn’t recognize that, then get the fuck out of his castle.
“Also a good sign,” he grinned, voice echoing slightly. It was strange, to not be around such a bustling hub, but they’d bring people up here and oil the cogs to get function going.
Ahhh, it even smelled the same, Leliana noticed - something distinctly earthy, of stone and dirt and ashes. No qualms on the decor, either, since she could appreciate the merging of cultures around here. It was what Skyhold was, and what the Inquisition did. Didn’t matter what race, class, whether you were a mage or sword wielder; all the differences were set aside to join together in a common goal. The Blight had done it to an extent, but temporarily so - this had been the beginning of something better.
The beginning of change.
Her hands couldn’t help but clap together, excitedly. “Just like you had left it,” chuckled the redhead, a smile stretched across her face, ear to ear. So much ground to investigate but she was eager to get started; to see what was here, to reminisce, to see the War Room and the libraries, the rookery and tavern. The smelly barn Blackwall liked to stay in. Maybe Cassandra’s hidden stash of romance novels?
Because of course the Spymaster would know where that was kept. “Will you add any modern conveniences to it?” Odd thing to ask, but valid. Considering this entire structure came from a land deeply rooted in what could be considered the dark ages, the splendors of present science didn’t exist. Meaning there was no electricity, nor indoor plumbing or anything to regulate the temperature.
Past the lower courtyard, as soon as they’d actually gone inside, there lay many explorations ahead - and Trevelyan went for the War Room first, since he was curious about what was in there, since the table itself had ended up in his living room. Along with the actual throne in the throne room - pieces of Skyhold, to be moved here later now that the structure was actually a reality.
He wasn’t in any hurry though, taking everything in, somewhat worried that he’d wake up and this would all be some sort of trolling dream. “Modern conveniences wouldn’t be a bad idea - electricity, indoor plumbing, the whole shebang. Might be expensive to maintain, but...”
Worth it? Especially if it meant using this place for its intended purpose, maybe even for a little more. Was there something to the real estate business, or tourism? He could rent the rooms like it was a hotel - a fun, medieval getaway.
“I think it could be done, don’t you?”
“I think us standing here is proof that anything can be done,” Leliana pointed out, running her fingers across the stone walls, boots shuffling across the floor. “Solar panels, perhaps?” Pricy to install, but efficient in the long run - fire could also be used for lighting sometimes to keep the spirit of Skyhold alive. It was almost a crime to change anything, though times were different here. “The options are vast.”
All of them were spoiled by modern conveniences, let’s just be frank. He wasn’t alone in gathering the funds for this place; she’d be invested as well, and maybe they could convince others to do the same?
Speaking of others, that reminded her… “And maybe we can finally fix Cullen’s ceiling. Everything else was finished, for some reason we forget that our war commander doesn’t have one?”
It was true! Maybe he was too shy to say anything, the poor man.
He laughed at that, a warm chuckle - because, really, Cullen. Having a roof wouldn’t be a bad thing, no. It really wasn’t putting anyone out, but either he just didn’t notice or was too shy to mention - but in either case, Max would make sure he actually had everything that a room should have this go at it. “I mean, going green as much as possible - with solar panels, maybe hydropower, which was actually sort of a thing in medieval times to some extent, that’s all a good idea as well.”
The throne room was where they ended up - it was draped in finery, just lacking that key component - and then through the second door (Trevelyan knew the way by heart, by now) he almost expected to see Josephine standing there where she usually was, or at her desk being about eight-hundred times more diplomatic than he could ever hope to be. But he and Leliana were alone, it was just them - through another door, that was the War Room.
“It needs the table,” Max decided. “I’m going to move that thing here even if I have to figure out a way to teleport something that’s one-thousand pounds and made of wood.” Maybe it didn’t weigh that much, but.
The table and ornate throne room, then it’d feel complete. Leliana twisted the cap off her water bottle for a thirsty gulp - best replenish, considering they’d also have to make the same trek down. “There are a couple of the teleporting sort on the network, ask and you shall receive,” she suggested. “Perhaps some we can ask for the upgrades too.”
If not, finding the connections wouldn’t be difficult - there was a lot of promise and potential with Skyhold, and now it was their duty to take care of it.
“Let us go see if Cassandra’s novels are where she usually kept them?” Her eyes had a glint of mischief, even if the Seeker wasn’t here to tease.
“No....what??” Max had no idea that Leliana knew where Cassandra’s secret stash was - because he definitely didn’t. All he remembered was the teasing about her penchant for smut novels, and Sera getting her to admit that she didn’t wear underwear...
He really shouldn’t think about that. It would just lead to bad things, and the piercing, scolding look in her dark eyes from beyond the Veil - maybe even a disgusted noise as well.
But hell, he was all for seeing if those relics such as ‘Hard in Hightown’ were where they should be. If they were, he’d bring the collection to Hawke - since the bearded Champion would probably appreciate a little memento or two regarding Varric. “Lead the way, then - you always had eyes and ears everywhere,” he snickered, also making a mental note to post on the network for assistance when it came to Skyhold. It was a diverse community, something could be figured out.
There was very little Leliana did not know, and it was good to have those eyes and ears anywhere - traitors were not uncommon, and she had several in her network in Thedas as well. Blackwall’s secret hadn’t evaded her either, but she found his dirty laundry best kept in the dark; his assistance in the Inquisition was more important, though he took the ball with that one and ran with it - thankfully he was forgiven, offered leniency, and continued on with them as a way of redemption.
Plenty of times she did discover a few hilarious things, tidbits about each companion here and there, and Cassandra’s was most amusing. A hardened warrior who settled mainly for brute force, such a sucker for romance - candlelights and kisses with a sunset backdrop.
“I don’t know why she was so secretive about all this,” she chuckled, strolling out into the open outdoors after their investigation of the main building. The Seeker’s quarters were above the armory (unsurprising), and there was that little wooden stool outside she’d sometimes read on. Very nostalgic. But through the door they went, up the stairs with sunlight as their guide, and there was a spot on the wall she honed in on. Move the loose block, and… “Here we go. Swords and Shields.” Cassandra’s one true guilty pleasure. “Varric kept a couple copies of his writings around too, if we want to be awed by embellished storytelling.”
Of course the secret stash was behind a loose block. Trevelyan almost facepalmed - the whole thing was just too funny. “She felt like she had a reputation to uphold, I guess?” he mused, with another laugh - though it could also be that actually admitting you liked Varric’s smut was embarrassing as hell. At least for most people. It was just one of the guiltiest pleasures, not that there was anything wrong with that - maybe it was the medieval equivalent to liking One Direction.
“Swords and Shield though, very nice,” he smirked, taking the book to study. “I say we get all we can and share it with the rest - I know Hawke will get a kick out of all this, and he could do with some cheering up after I dropped the Adamant Fortress bomb.”
Which Max still felt guilty about, don’t get him wrong. He was hoping nothing sort of bled through with that.
Poor Cassandra! It was possible to indulge in smutty romance and be a terrifying force of nature at the same time, no shame there, but then there was the fact that Swords and Shield was actually one of Varric’s worse writings. Well, alright, she could understand the bit of shame, then. “Almost everyone has a secret stash of something,” Leliana smirked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Sera’s Bee Grenades crossed over.”
Maker, talk about lethal. Those little doodles on notes were missed, though. That elf was entertaining yet wildly aggravating.
But, anyway, she took notice of the somewhat solemn look the Inquisitor had. It caused a brow to raise. “Adamant Fortress Bomb? With what happened to Stroud?”
Max missed the bee grenades too - he actually thought about making some, for old times sake. But to really give it some oomph, he needed herbs that did not exist in this world - yet. Who knew what they’d find, when they ventured to the gardens - or what Morrigan would wake up with in her greenhouse.
“Well, in my version, it happened to Hawke,” he said, feeling a headache coming on - were certain things different? That was odd. “I don’t know what happens much, much later but he felt he was responsible for Corypheus then. And the Wardens were falling apart, they were completely mind-warped and out of their minds, as we learned - I ultimately wanted to get them away from that and somewhere they could rebuild in safety.”
Hadn’t happened, but. The next Blight, hundreds of years from now, would need to be eradicated by the Wardens anyway and as long as there were at least a couple - they’d taken a lot of blows there in the south, yet were still intact around the rest of the world. Trevelyan was actually almost glad he’d be dead for the next Blight, to put it bluntly.
Provided that he managed to help save the world again, after Solas’ grand reveal. Maker.
Some things were different was what Leliana learned - Trevelyan’s telling of the outcome was certainly knew, and she listened with mighty curious and blinked those soft blue eyes with some confusion. “Interesting difference,” she mumbled, though the circumstances were much more….grim, she supposed? Mostly when it involved someone people were close to. “The Warden stayed behind in mine. Though given that, that gives this Hawke a fifty-fifty chance of a bleedover.”
Meaning nothing could happen, or something could happen.
Her arms folded once she let that sink more, and she cocked her head to the side. “Please tell me you did not tell Bela what you just told me.” That reaction wouldn’t be tame in the slightest. The ex-bard knew her friend quite well in that regard.
“Of course I told her. I told both of them at the same time - she punched him and then threatened to stab me, but he managed to curb that enthusiasm a little,” Max winced. He could certainly understand being upset about the news - it wasn’t the type of thing you took in stride, and he just had to hope with everything in him that things didn’t sway to the side of bleedover when it came to that situation.
Carefully, he rolled his shoulders, trying to dislodge some of the tension. “I don’t have the mark, so I’m not ripping open holes to the Fade after we’re falling to our deaths,” he pointed out. “Just have to take it one day at a time, I suppose?”
And even if the scenario were to somehow play out here, he wasn’t going to let Hawke stay behind this time. Once was enough.
Ohhh, dear. Punching and stabbing was very Bela. Last thing they’d want to hear after their fresh nuptials would be the looming threat of possible death, so the reaction was understandable. “It’ll be quite the coin toss on whether or not he’ll dream of staying behind or surviving with the rest,” she inhaled, deeply. “Though if times get a little demonic with a hole in the sky, I’d say we’re as prepared as can be.”
The rifts, the anchor. It all went hand in hand - she didn’t foresee one happening without the other. But she knew there was an immense amount of anticipation, of anxiety, on Trevelyan’s part. It’d all tie to him and the responsibility of closing them would be a weight on his shoulders.
“The dawn will come, though, as the song foretold,” Nightingale reminded him, stepping down those wooden stairs back to the lower level. “You’ll be at peace once it happens and it’s over.” And it no longer was a massive what if hovering over their heads like a stormy cloud.
Felt like it was a massive weight, like anvils sitting on his shoulders and concrete blocks on his chest everytime he took a breath - Trevelyan knew that worrying about it so much wasn’t going to actually help anything, but it was there regardless. “Getting it over with - I guess that’s true, once it’s done then it’s done. At least we have a fortress now?”
That made him feel a little better. And having people here, from Thedas, who dreamed the same thing - that was also a little of the burden lifted. He knew that he’d have others to stand with him if (when) the time came to close those Maker-forsaken rifts. “Well - “
He followed down the stairs, out to more open spaces - there was still so much to see. “Should we check into the rookery or the garden next? I’ll leave it up to you.” There was no rush, they weren’t really racing anything but the sunset - climbing down a mountain in the dark wouldn’t be wise, but the late summer days meant they still had a few hours.
To explore, and not contemplate the atrocities of a Breach.
Skyhold now, the possibility of a tear in the Veil later. It was alright to enjoy this - time would slip like sand through their fingers if they didn’t pull away from worrying over things they had no control over, even if it was only for a little while.
“Rookery while the lighting is still bright?” It’d be nice to see her old perch again, the sight of her desk and the avian cages. “Garden, and - woudn’t hurt to see if the Herald’s Rest is stocked with some authentic Thedosian spirits, no?”