Unforgettable

When One Door Closes

In the midst of the turmoil after the Inquisitor's announcement, Blackwall went looking for possibly the most in-demand member of that now-defunct organization: Scout Harding.

He finally managed to find her in the midst of a group of other Inquisition operatives, giving orders on how to pack up everything the Inquisition had brought with it for transport back to Skyhold, and eventual redistribution.

She saw him; he could tell by the lift of her chin. So he stood there waiting, watching her. It was a shame the Inquisition was disbanding—Blackwall would have put good money on her being the next Inquisitor. But he wasn't overly unhappy about the event otherwise. The Inquisition had been formed to take down Corypheus, and it had done so. Now it was time for its members to move on to other things.

As Harding moved toward him, his pulse quickened. If she could be convinced to become a Grey Warden—but he would never have suggested it. Not just because of the possibility of death from the Joining and the taint spreading through the blood, but also because the Wardens were not what they once were. Those remaining at Weisshaupt were out of touch with the rest of the world, their orders increasingly irrelevant. Those in the rest of Thedas were going rogue more and more often, and their numbers were dwindling as older Wardens died and were not replaced. Not to mention the nearly total loss of the Fereldan and Orlesian Wardens.

No, the Order was not the same as it had been, once upon a time. Blackwall would remain because it was his penance, what he had been meant to do and finally achieved. But he wouldn't recruit for them.

"So you're leaving," Lace said without preamble.

"I am. Likely we won't see each other again, unless your travels bring you to the Anderfels."

"It's not impossible." She had a good poker face, but there was something, some plan or problem, that lurked behind her green eyes.

Blackwall reached out, taking her small hand and folding it in both of his. "You were a breath of air and light into a very dark and gloomy dungeon. I will never forget you, my lady."

She smiled. "May the Maker watch over you."

He bent and kissed her hand, and then let it go, turning and walking away from her before he broke all his promises and rashly threw himself at her feet. Neither Thom Rainier or the false Blackwall deserved her; he would let her go and hope that there were better things awaiting her.

Josephine stood in the empty council chamber, looking around her wistfully. For a brief moment in time, she had been the Ambassador of a mighty entity. She had done her job well—with her help, the Inquisition had become a truly formidable force in Thedas. She didn't begrudge what Thule had done ... but she woud miss this, and her work.

"So. It is over?" A soft voice asked from the doorway, and she turned to find Ciel standing there.

Josephine nodded. "It is over."

"I am sad for you ... but when one door closes, another opens." He lifted her hand and kissed it. "The door to our home, perhaps?"

"I will still have much to do. We must dismantle the Inquisition, and that will take time. And then I must straighten out my family's affairs. Now that we can trade again, we—"

She gasped as Ciel drew her firmly against him and began kissing her neck. "You can do that part from home, can you not? Perhaps from a desk in our bedroom, where I hope to keep you thoroughly occupied for weeks—months—after our marriage?" he murmured in her ear.

When he put it that way, it sounded quite nice. "I suppose that last part can be done from home," she agreed, turning her face up to his to be kissed. The Inquisition was behind her, but work and love both lay ahead of her.

She was content.

Lilias sat across the table from Varric, both of them nursing their ales, neither of them up for much talking. Thule had briefed them privately, along with Alistair and Cassandra and Leliana and Nathaniel, about his conversation with Solas. The others had focused on Solas and his plans, but neither Lilias nor Varric could stop thinking about Merrill, who had disappeared with Solas.

"You think he's keeping her against her will?" Varric asked, his face set in hard lines that were unusual for him.

"No. I wish I thought that. I think she's with him because of her people, because of him, because it's not that big a step from blood magic to work an eluvian to ... other things." Lilias looked around the tavern. No one seemed to be paying attention to her, but it was hard to tell.

"Well, I'm not just sitting here. Come on." Varric set his mug on the table with a thump that sloshed its largely untouched contents over the sides.

"Where are we going?" Lilias asked him as they left the tavern.

"Best you don't know until we get there."

Still, she wasn't surprised to find herself standing next to Varric in front of the eluvian. "She won't know we're here. Does this thing even still work?"

"She'll know. She'll come to us ... if he lets her." Varric grasped the edges of the mirror, staring into it intently. "Daisy. Daisy, it's us."

Lilias shook her head, admiring his optimism but not sharing it—and was startled when the surface of the mirror started swirling and Merrill's dear face appeared in it.

"Varric. Hawke."

"Daisy!"

Lilias stood speechless, wanting to reach out and drag her friend through the mirror and just hug her.

"Daisy, are you all right? I mean—"

"I'm fine, Varric." Her face lit with wonder. "There is so much to learn, so much to piece back together."

"Merrill, you know what he plans to do, don't you? To us—to everyone!"

"I know, Hawke." Merrill looked troubled. "Maybe ... maybe there's a way to have both. I can try to find one."

"So you won't come back?" A tear welled in Lilias's eye and slipped down her cheek.

"No, Hawke. Be happy. For me. You, too, Varric."

Her face began to fade, the swirling taking it over, and Varric tried to shake the mirror to bring her back, but in vain. Merrill was lost to them.