A Candle in the Darkness (A Dragon Age: Inquisition fanfiction)

To Dissolve the Inquisition

29 Solace, 9:44

As soon as morning had fully arrived, Cullen and Antonia called the others together in the Divine's rooms.

Josephine hadn't seen the arm yet, and she pulled Antonia into a hug with a face full of mute misery. "My dear friend, I am so sorry."

"Me, too." Antonia disentangled herself. She had won a measure of control over her grief, and didn't want to jeopardize it. "You've all heard what happened, what Solas wants to do?"

There were sober nods.

"I knew there was something off about Chuckles, but I didn't think he was crazy," Varric said.

"He doesn't think he's crazy."

"They usually don't."

"The point is, how do we stop him?" Leliana asked.

"Much as I hate to say it, I don't know if we can, at least, not until he begins to make a move."

Leliana and the Iron Bull and Dorian exchanged looks, but none of them said anything further.

Antonia went on, "What I wanted to tell you all today, though, is this: The Inquisition has done the work it was created to do. We defeated Corypheus, we closed the Breach, we solved the mystery of the death of the Divine. From here, we will only become more of a target for the ire of other countries."

Josephine shook her head sadly. "All too true, I am afraid."

Looking at all of them, remembering the cold camp at Haven, and the Breach, and Corypheus, and the disaster that Skyhold had been when they first arrived, and all of Josephine's many letters, and the Iron Bull turning his back on the Qun, and Varric always there to cheer everyone up ... Antonia could feel tears welling in her eyes again.

Cullen put his arm around her, pulling her close. "What the Inquisitor is trying to say ..."

"Is that she is disbanding the Inquisition," Cassandra finished.

Antonia looked at the Divine, worried that she was offended. After all, Cassandra had begun what Antonia was so summarily ending. But Cassandra was nodding, and so was Josephine.

"It is time."

"This Exalted Council has proved that," Josephine said sadly. "Ferelden will take us apart, or Orlais will take us over, if we don't take steps to do so ourselves."

"You give any thought yet to how you're going to dismantle, boss?" the Iron Bull asked.

Cullen answered for her. "We'll do what we can to make each of the keeps a self-sufficient entity; private constabularies, if you will. And the soldiers can be reassigned to the keeps."

"I can use the favors we have accumulated to provide some protection for the keeps while they are finding their feet," Josephine said.

The Iron Bull nodded his approval. "The spies can do the same; and anyone who wants can join up with the Chargers. I've got a feeling we'll be plenty busy."

"There are going to be less people to resettle than you think," Varric said. "Anyone notice the sudden servant shortage this morning?"

"My morning tea was quite late," Cassandra agreed.

The dwarf grinned at her. "That wasn't the servants' fault."

She rolled her eyes, huffing at him in disgust.

The Iron Bull quirked an eyebrow in their direction before turning back to Antonia. "The elves are gone, boss. Not all, but a lot."

She felt a chill work through her. "Solas's doing? I was ... hoping we'd have more time before he got things underway."

"We may still," Leliana assured her. "Powerful trickster god or not, he will still have to organize his people."

"But we have little time left before the Exalted Council convenes. We must decide what to do."

"I know what to do." Antonia squared her shoulders, looking around at all of them. She clenched her left hand—or she tried to, before she remembered it wasn't there. "I'm going to dissolve the Inquisition."

There was sorrow in the faces of her friends, her partners and companions, but understanding, as well. She was the Inquisitor; it was at heart her decision. But if one of them had spoken up, just one, she would have reconsidered.

No one did, and Antonia was grateful for it. She was tired of fighting, tired of putting her needs behind that of everyone in Thedas, and for nothing. Dorian had told her once that no one would thank her; he had been right. They hadn't. But she had won so much in the process—the love and loyalty of all these people chief among them.

"Good," she said softly. "Now let's go tell the rest of Thedas."